#I assume you don't space his name here ^^;;

[just-your-average-cryptid]

The White Rabbit was a joke. That's what everyone thought - some rando in a cheap mask and an impeccable suit doing corporate sabotage for kicks. Sure, they left a trail of explosions in their wake (or fried servers, or pockets of space where physics had taken a bribe and a day off), but they didn't kill people. They couldn't be that strong.

Not like Knifepoint.

The guy was as unsubtle as his name suggested, and equally deadly. He'd kidnapped 10 people as his opening number, leaving an obscure trail of clues to their supposed location. Some of the best people on the Hero Force roster had spent harrowing weeks tracking him down, praying they would get to the victims before he did.

They were good people, she thought. Good people that deserved better than what he did to them - to that poor kid, barely out of high school and already being sent on a case like this.

Someone had to do something. Someone he couldn't pull apart like a tiger with a pumpkin full of meat, toying with their food before sinking their teeth in. Someone he wouldn't expect.

Then again, when had anyone expected what the White Rabbit would do next?

The old slaughterhouse was a bit on the nose. Plenty of tools for his torture routines, but not very creative. For a guy who could come up with killing methods out of other people's nightmares, she expected more than the red lighting and excessive hooks that seemed straight out of a budget shlock horror flick. Glancing up, she could see a maze of catwalks above the work floor. They would be useful in a moment.

"Little rabbits shouldn't be in a place like this..."

"Oh dear, you must think I'm here by accident. I assure you—" she said, yanking him by the collar through the darkness, "—I know who I'm dealing with."

"Do you?" he rasped, grinning with bloodstained teeth. The knife was already in his hand, swinging to her side. He collapsed when it should have connected, and she was gone.

"Yes. A little child who thinks making himself big and scary will frighten the other children, so he can tell them what to do. A dog who's been surrounded by foxes so long, he's forgotten what a real wolf looks like."

An overhead light chnnked on, the White Rabbit sitting casually on the cone above it. The building had been disconnected from the grid for decades, but that was nothing. Things never quite worked the way they should around her.

"A wolf in rabbit's skin, eh? Why don't I peel it off and see what kind of teeth I find?"

She laughed from two feet to his right. "You can certainly try."

He lunged, stabbing in the direction of her voice only to knock into a pillar. Clutching his head in frustration, he threw the knife to the ground and watched it bounce and jiggle like a rubber toy.

"Awww, is someone feeling upset? Do you need a time-out?" The world lurched to the side and over as he scrabbled at the concrete, tumbling to the ceiling-floor. She waited for him to notice her, sitting cross-legged with a tiny mug. "Tea?"

He scrambled on all fours, leaping as the world tossed again before comfortably settling right-side-down. He plummeted into the dark and never hit the floor.

The White Rabbit strolled up beside him, just out of reach as he continued to tumble endlessly. There were no walls, no floor, nothing in all directions but the endless dark. He would keep "falling," as much as one could call this suspended descent falling, until she decided he wasn't.

"They always say it's the stop that kills you. 'Course, that's assuming you will stop. I do wonder, if you and I stayed here for a brief eternity, if you'd keep falling forever. Nothin' to eat, no way to drink, but nowhere to fall to. Normal is a distant dream here - you're not really breathing, either, did you notice that? Probably not. You're too busy believing you can kill me if you reach just a little further." She watched him strain towards her, sipping her tea. Perfectly warm, a hint of lavender, as always. Quite pleasant. "Could just leave ya here. Finish my tea and be on my merry way. But that's too boring, you know?"

He landed upright, somehow (she imagined that "upright" was starting to feel less stable, now), breathing hard despite not really doing much for the last few second-hours of this dance. Granted, all time was now and forever for her. Maybe eternity really was that long for someone like him.

"What... the hell... are you?" he rasped, hand to his throat as he gulped in air like a man in the desert gulps down an oasis.

She loomed over him, red lights flickering and blinking out around them. "What shall I leave you with?" Her hand pushed through his chest, felt the electric tingle of nerves pulsing against her fingertips. "What's it feel like, to have all your alarms going off at once? Pain and heat and cold and hunger, clawing and writhing under your skin?" Knifepoint shuddered as she wrenched her arm back. "You want to cut people open, see how they tick, poke and prod them like lab rats. Why bother? I can show you everything there is inside you - every blood cell running through your veins, every breath of air in your lungs, every point of light pinging your eyes." He fell to his knees, convulsing, scratching at his arms and neck. A flick of her hand and it stopped.

She crouched in front of him, a smile creeping across her face from behind the rabbit mask. Few every saw it from this close; it was far more ornate than it appeared, but more importantly, it had holes instead of eyes. The swirling cyan glow his gaze eventually met was her own.

"You asked what I am. Let me teach you."

Knifepoint was found in his hideout after an anonymous tip, though Deputy Martinez had seen enough "anonymous" packages to know this was their work. The White Rabbit, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and had left surprisingly little evidence of their presence. The extract team had come heavily armed after what happened to Owlet, but he was just... sitting there, on the floor, muttering to himself on loop. One of his knives was found several feet away, seemingly altered by the Rabbit's powers into a floppy mockery of the weapon that had terrorized the city for weeks.

"Report in."

"Knifepoint's bagged, though you won't get much out of him. Looks like he finally snapped - the rest of him, at least."

"Any sign of the White Rabbit?"

"Not a one. No explosions today."

"Is he still conscious?"

"We're not sure. Eyes are open, body moves normally, everything works like it does when you're awake - but he's not responding to anything. Extract carried him out and it's like he didn't even notice, just keep repeating the same phrase."

"Well... what was he sayin'?"

"Everything is nothing is now is forever is nothing is everything is now is forever is everything is nothing is now is forever... on and on with hardly a breath."

"The hell does that mean?"

Martinez glanced up at the roof. For a moment, she thought she'd seen someone up there. She'd been having a lot of those moments since she started this chase. "I don't know, but... if they could do this to him now..."

"You think it's an escalation?"

"I think it's a warning."

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At worst, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. All fun and games until things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[siriuslylantsov]

sobriquet

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, kissing and all around domesticity, bit cheesy, little teasing, spencer gets momentarily overwhelmed with how much he feels but i dont get into the nitty gritty.

a/n: sobriquet is the french word for nickname. anywho i just need spencer reid to call me angel. hope you like this! happy reading :)

wc: 1.3k

◦ /ˈsəʊbrɪkeɪ/ ◦

the bright noon sun filters through the sheer curtains as you wake up, groggily pulling yourself into a sitting position. you rub at the sleep in your eyes with a low grumble. the space beside you is vacant, you run a hand over the spencer shaped chasm indented into the mattress. it's gone cold so you assume he's been up for a while, having let you sleep in, probably perched on the couch, book in hand.

you drag yourself into the living room of spencer's apartment, despite the daylight scattered across the space, it still feels cosy, relentlessly cosy. which is probably why you spend so much time here, like you are now. a rare case-free weekend off presented itself to the team, so the two of you decided on spending a lazy 2 days together.  

you bend at the waist and wrap your arms around spencer's shoulders when you find him on the couch. he lets out a slightly distracted hum, pressing his lips to your forearm in a kiss, though it's more open mouthed as you catch him in the middle of reading a passage. you squeeze him once and walk to the kitchen. he follows you, needing a refill to his coffee.

both of you work in silence, spencer engrossed in the pages in front of him as the moka pot heats up on the stove while you grab the carton of milk from the fridge. when you open the cabinet for the box of cereal that resides there, you don't find it. strange. you open the one beside it in hopes that you'd find it there, you don't.

“baby, where's the cereal?” you ask spencer, peering behind boxes and packets for a glimpse of the tell-tale red of the kelloggs logo.

his eyes dart up from his book, finally tearing away from the words. did you just call him baby?

you push up from your knees, turning to look at him expectantly, “spencer?”

his eyes are wide, eyebrows pinched up ever so slightly that a line forms in the middle, you want to smooth it out. he looks alarmed, so you cross over to him, taking the book out of his hands and setting it on the counter, turning off the heat to the stove at the same time.

“hey, are you okay?” your voice is low so as to not alarm him further, but still pressing to know what’s wrong.

apart from the alarm, his face is unreadable. “what did you just say?”

you graze a hand over his forearm, “are you okay?”

“no. before that.”

“um... where's the cereal? spencer, are you-”

“you called me baby,” he interjects. barely a whisper but you catch it.

oh. your lips part, trying to get a read on his face, you can't. “did i?” you respond meekly, playing dumb in case he didn't like it. the two of you haven't experimented with nicknames much, the relationship being fairly new and only used to addressing eachother by first or last names.

he nods, lips curling into a small smile. oh. “say it again?”

you want to protest but he's quick to stop you with a “please.”

“baby,” you chew your bottom lip nervously, searching for any recoil in his eyes, you find none. his smile only grows.

“again.”

“spence,” you whine, feeling embarrassed.

“please,” he repeats, eyes big and imploring.

you sigh, how do you possibly deny him? chagrin be damned.

“baby,” you whisper, almost cooing, as you raise a hand to cup his cheek.

teeth peek out of his mouth now, grinning wholeheartedly. his arms find solace around your waist as he pulls you in, tucking his head into your neck. you can feel his smile on your skin, and you giggle.

“i take it you like it then?” you murmur, threading your fingers into his hair the back of his head.

he presses a kiss to your neck. “of course i do, angel,” he responds, words trailing off tentatively.

angel. your brain runs circles around the way the word sounded coming from him, how good it sounded, angel. in a matter of seconds, he’d managed to turn the tables and you understand why he reacted how he did when you called him baby, you wouldn't mind him calling you angel again either.

you pull back to look at his face. he's a shy and sheepish thing when you take him in. your face isn't as unreadable as his was, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled at the corners as you try to bite back a smile, so he calms easily. 

“that's new,” you remark, poking at his chest.

“yeah,” he says, pulling you closer as he leans against the counter. “you like it?”

“mhm,” you hum giddily, rising on your toes to kiss him. 

his lips move against yours gently as he kisses you back. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. you nip it before pulling back.

“i've got morning breath,” you explain simply, alleviating his confusion.

he's indifferent when he leans back in, “does it look like i care?”

you give him a quick peck on the nose before exhaling a puff of hot air into his face, trying to drum up as much bad breath as you can. you laugh as his face scrunches up in mild disgust, nose wrinkled, and lips pulled into a pout. he's quick to recover though, head dipping to kiss you again. sighing into the kiss, you push his face from yours and hide under his chin. his arms move higher and wrap across your shoulders.

“in the hallway,” spencer says abruptly.

you hum into his chest in confusion, and he explains further, “the cereal is in a bag in the hallway. i finished the last of it earlier and went to go buy some more.”

“you went grocery shopping? just for cereal?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, but he can make out what you're saying.

“yeah, gotta make sure my angel is fed,” he murmurs into your hair that tickles his chin.

you groan a little at how corny he sounds but bury further into him regardless, clearly flustered. he huffs out a chuckle at your state.

“oh don't be so smug,” you grumble, lifting your head up to look at him. god was he pretty.

“angel,” he drags out, almost taunting, but inherently laced in affection. he can't help it, you are an angel personified to him, the name was only fitting. and it wasn't often that you were on the tail end of the teasing, so he's making sure to take advantage of whatever was making you all giddy as if you couldn't do the same thing to him tenfold. 

when he sees the glint in your eyes though, he knows you're about to. he braces himself internally as you hold his face with two soft hands, cradling him. he shifts slightly to kiss your palm, admittedly trying to avoid your gaze. 

“beautiful,” you start, and he's already done for, turning his head further into your hand. you're not having it, so you bring him back to you, firmer grip this time but fingers still as soft as before. “perfect,” you continue, words also firm, “angel boy.” 

you seem to have rendered him silent, an easy thing for you to do because it's you, chipping away at any and all words he had stored simply because of what you called him. it's unbelievable that a mere nickname could reduce him to this–he’ll be sure to try it on you later. but for now, he just hugs you again, dropping his head back into your neck and arms around your waist. yours loop around his neck, rooting his head where it is. 

your fingers press into his scalp, massaging lightly. you continue murmuring little things into the silence, turning your head so he hears you better. angel, baby, genius boy, pumpkin, sweet cheeks, shnookums. 

his head lifts up, bewildered, “shnookums?”

“hey! i don't know what you're into,” you lean back in surrender, hoping to bring some humour into this because frankly, he was overwhelmed, and you knew.

he lets out a low chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours and you melt sleepily against him.

“i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too, angel girl.” 

m.list | reblogs and replies are appreciated!

[suncoved]

BIG MAN ON CAMPUS! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; fratboy!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; you come to your first college party and have the worst panic attack of your life. who knew your knight in shining armour would be the captain of the biggest fraternity and the biggest fuck boy on campus

warnings ; panic attacks, anxiety, drugging, angst but like fluff!!

"Liv, i'm really not sure about this"

You're best friend and roommate looked at you with a blank stare, watching as you pulled the tight white dress down that had ridden up your thighs. She had dragged you out of your dorm only 20 minutes ago, telling you that if you didn't come she was going to wake you up with a bucket of ice water.

"Cmon babe, you made me promise i would drag you to at least one party this year. and i don't break a promise. Which also means that i promise if you don't like the first 30 minutes, then we can go home and eat 30 pounds of ice cream and pass out in our makeup"

You smiled at her, trying to push yourself through whatever anxiety was coursing through you. Liv was really a good friend, even if she was harsh about it at times, you know that she wanted the best for you.

The smell of booze and sweat hit your nose immediately as you walked into the frat house, the music blasting and the rainbow lights blinding against the otherwise dark space.

Liv pulled you to the corner of the living room, smiling brightly at you and giving you an extra tight hug. "Ok! I'm gonna go get us some drinks, stay right there and don't move!"

She had to yell because of how loud the music was, wasting no time before disappearing into the kitchen.

You stood in the party like a fish out of water, biting your lip as you looked down at your feet.

You'd like to say that you weren't that much of an introvert. I mean sure you liked to be curled up with a good book from time to time, and you were studying a bit more than healthy. But you like to go out and shop with friends, talk to new people in your classes and slumber parties on the weekends.

But parties were something you did not do. It had a combination of all the things you disliked most in life. loud music, people yelling, drinking, flashing bright lights and... frat boys.

You'd already been brought out of your shell at college, you were confident enough now to present in classes and partner up with new people on assignments, but this was pushing it.

You were a sweet girl, but naive. You didn't have enough experience with greedy men and even you would admit that you resembled a lost deer more often than you would like.

You lifted your head as you heard someone approach you, looking up quickly as you assumed it was Liv coming back from the kitchen.

But it wasn't Liv.

A brunette looked straight at you as you made eye contact with him, a red solo cup resting in his hand.

"What's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone in the corner" he stated, inching closer to you as you subconsciously stepped back a bit. "I'm Jeremey"

He reached out his hand to you to shake, only to receive a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Normally people reply back with their name, Babe"

"Oh! Sorry!" you replied flustered, repeating back your name as he grinned wide, showing his bright smile.

You didn't want to admit that when Jeremy was talking to you, you continually kept glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that the next person to walk out was Liv, who was going to hopefully come to save you from this conversation.

"Hey, I was experimenting in the kitchen, wanna try my new concoction." Jeremy dangled the red solo cup in your face, the liquid pink and smelling of strawberries.

"No thank you. I don't drink" you replied sweetly, hoping to be polite and not upset him. "There's barely any in it, promise. Pleaseee, don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?" He replied in annoyance.

A pang of hurt shot through you as you panicked, how could you have been so rude! Jeremy was taking time out of his day to talk to you and you rejected a drink he made you?

"Oh! no, I'm sorry. Thank you so much" you replied, taking the cup out of his hands and looking down at the liquid. He watched closely as you took a sip, your face twisting at the strong flavour of vodka.

"What do you think?" he smirked as he asked, bringing his hand up to your lips and wiping the extra liquid off with his thumb.

"Its- its great, thank you" you replied, your heart beating faster as you started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable. He watched you closely as he hinted to you to drink more, looking down at you like he was a wolf, and you were his prey.

You held back tears as you felt the room start to spin under your feet, your cheeks feeling hot and your hands shaking involuntarily. It hit you quickly that this wasn't alcohol that was making you feel like this, no, it was something else. Something much, much worse.

And you didn't want to stick around to figure out what it was.

"Um, sorry Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom" you spoke up, using all your courage to push through the crowd quickly as he followed.

Your breath was now speeding up as you fought your way through the waves of people, your steps becoming faster as you felt the room spinning more and more, tears streaming down your face.

You didn't know where the bathrooms in this place were, but you didn't have time to think about that now.

You just needed to find Liv, or someone, anyone.

Your eyes fell on a room at the end of the hall, light spilling out of the crack where the door failed to meet the floor.

You didn't have time to think, just to act. Your balled fist made it up to the door, knocking over and over again as you looked behind you, Jeremy in the crowd but looking all over for what you assumed to be you.

You didn't even want to begin to imagine how stupid you looked, or how impolite you were being as your knocks became harsher and frantic as Jeremy came closer.

"Jesus, learn how to wait your fucking turn" a voice sounded as the door opened. you didn't even look away from Jeremy as you tumbled into the bathroom, accidentally bringing the person in the door with you.

"Yo, what the fuc-" the aggressive voice came to a halt quickly, but you all you could focus on was your breathing, which was out of control.

Your cheeks were wet with tears as you closed your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and letting yourself sob. "I- I can't breathe" You let out, unknowing if you were talking to yourself or the person in the space with you.

You couldn't even handle your anxiety and emotions when you were in control of your body, let alone now.

That's the main reason you don't drink, because you tend to freak out to the point of no return, and this, this was much worse.

Your face was buried in your hands as the person softly closed the door to the bathroom. You didn't even register him softly moving you to sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom, kneeling down and removing your hands from your face.

You opened your eyes to see a man's face looking back at you, his features painted with worry and his body distanced enough away from you as to not upset you even more.

"Hey- hey. Its ok, what's wrong?" the boy asked, trying not to show how confused he was on how to deal with this situation. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head quickly at his statement, your tears slowly coming to a halt as your vision became less blurry. You could now see his face more clearly. Fluffy dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, soft pink lips.

"Uh, um. Wait" He spoke, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the bathroom. He started frantically opening draws and cabinets, stopping when he found a box of tissues under the sink.

"Here" you looked between him and the box he was handing you before taking it in your hands, your fingers brushing past each other momentarily.

"Thank you, i-i promise I'm not this much of a mess all the time." You replied, earning a soft smile from the man. "It's ok, it happens to the best of us. Have you taken anything, or just drunk?" He asked delicately.

Rafe didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment. Because he'd never felt it before.

Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, He was rude and got into fights on occasion, and he had been known to make girls complete the walk of shame out of his room involuntarily after a big night out, but that didn't mean he would ever leave a clearly intoxicated girl alone at a frat party.

But this, this was different. He had to know what was wrong with you, and he had to fix it. Sure you were a mystery to him and only met you seconds ago, but he wasn't leaving until he knew you were safe and sound... and had given him your name.

"I don't drink- or, at least I didn't. This boy gave me something, it tasted weird. Then I got all dizzy and now- now I can't stop crying" You rambled, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.

He gazed back at you, running his tongue around his teeth before seemingly snapping out of the trance he was in. "Did you know the guy?" He huffed, obviously agitated with your reply as he ran his fingers through his hair.

You shook your head softly, a wave of sadness running through you because you couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Tears started running down your face again suddenly as you kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

He lifted his thumb up to your cheek, softly brushing the tears away. "Hey it's okay, Don't worry. I'll keep you safe"

He didn't understand the feelings he was feeling, He had never craved to protect someone so much, He had never been this gentle in his whole life.

"What's your name?" he asked, distracting you to hopefully stop the flow of tears streaming down your face. He felt like if you didn't stop crying in the next minute, he was going to lose it.

You answered your name to him, earning a soft smile. "I'm Rafe, it's nice to meet you." He finished the sentence with your name, sending shivers down your spine.

"Liv" You gasped, making his head tilt in confusion before you shot up from your seat. "Wow, ma. Slow down, what do you mean?" Rafe replied, holding your hips to stop you from completely falling over. You sat back down quickly in defeat, your eyes wide with panic.

"Liv, I-I came here with my friend Liv. I'm gonna scare her. I need to find her." You gasped, your voice trembling as you spoke. "It's ok, We'll find her. Don't worry, it's ok." He repeated, desperate for your face to get back to your normal expression, aka, not struck with terror.

It was obvious to Rafe through the glaze cast over your eyes, the shaking from your hands and the drooping of your eyelids that someone had slipped something into your drink.

He had hosted enough parties at his fraternity to know what insecure, probably small dicked boys, not men, can do to women. And it revolted him.

"R-rafe. I'm gonna go to sleep now" You whispered, your body finally giving out before you could stop it, his arms quickly coming up to stabilize you before you toppled over.

He bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do, pulling your body into his arms as you didn't even stir. He was scared. So scared.

He didn't know what you were given, how much you were given, what would happen after you woke up, if you even woke up at all.

He carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom, unlocking the door and locking it behind him again. His room was the only one with a lock in the whole house, because he was damned if he was going to walk in on random strangers having drunk sex on his bed.

He rested you softly on his bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillow and resting a blanket over your body after taking your heels off.

He looked at your sleeping form, your long eyelashes resting on your cheeks, your hair falling softly over your shoulders and your chest rising and falling with your breaths.

He looked at you one last time before leaving his room, ignoring every person greeting him as he made a beeline straight for the living room.

He scanned over the large crowd in the house, numerous people dancing, some making out, his frat brothers doing keg stands, and one very panicked girl going up to every stranger she sees.

Rafe took no time before walking straight to the girl in the middle of the dance floor, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns immediately to face Rafe, her face struck with confusion.

"Are you Liv?" Rafe asks, earning a confused nod from the girl in front of him” I am! Have you seen my best friend anywhere? She's about yay height, really pretty, heart of gold, she kinda looks like that baby deer from that Disney movie, she's wearing this white dress and-"

Rafe stops her ramble with a quick nod causing her eyes to widen. "What? Where is she?"

"In my bed" Rafe replied, remembering he wasn't all that good with small talk. "What? What the fuck do you mean, in your bed? What did you do? I swear to god-"

"Ok, calm down. Someone gave her something. I found her in the bathroom sobbing before she passed out. I put her in my bed then came down here, end of story" He replied, starting to get slightly agitated.

The girl he now knows to be Liv quickly walks off, heading straight for upstairs where the bedrooms are. Rafe rolls his eyes before following swiftly behind her, though he's glad that there's someone out there other than him trying to protect his newfound soft spot.

Liv halts at all the bedrooms, looking expectantly at Rafe before he walks in front of her and opens his door. Liv immediately rushes to you, still passed out on Rafe's bed.

She sits next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Of course, on the first party she goes to, some sick fuck roofies her and she ends up in Rafe Cameron's bed" Liv speaks, not taking her eyes off you.

"How do you know my name?" Rafe asks, not even bothering to look at the person he's talking to as he focuses on your chest rising and falling. "Ha, everyone knows who you are Rafe. And if I find out you had anything to do with her getting hurt, I'm gonna chop your dick off and feed it to you and make sure everyone on campus knows it"

It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't slightly amused by your best friend's words, holding back his smile and keeping his face stern. "I would never do that shit. Especially not to her" Liv's eyebrow quirked in confusion at the last bit of his sentence.

She knows for a fact that you did not know Rafe Cameron before this night, let alone any frat boys. Liv could cry at the sight of your passed-out form, taking full blame and responsibility for the fact that you got hurt when she was meant to protect you.

She pulled her phone out from her purse, about to call an Uber back to the dorms for both of you. "No, I'll drive you" He stated, not leaving room for an argument

Liv nodded slowly before pulling the blanket off you, your body involuntarily starting to shiver from the cold air.

Rafe walked over to his closet, grabbing his warmest hoodie. Liv looked up at him as he raised your body softly, placing the hoodie over your head and softly lifting you up into his arms.

Rafe walked with Liv down to the road outside the fraternity house, receiving hundreds of stares from people in the crowd. But he didn't care, all he cared about was you.

He let Liv open the door to the backseat of his truck, allowing him to place you softly inside before Liv climbed in next to you, placing your head on her lap.

The ride was completely silent, barring Liv's directions to the dormitories, but she didn't miss the way he was constantly looking in the rearview mirror at you.

It didn't take long before Liv was leading the way to your dorm, Rafe trailing slowly behind with you in his arms.

She flicked the light on in your dorm, Rafe quickly knowing which bed was yours from the multiple stuffies and pink blankets. He lifted the covers before placing your head on the pillow once more, knowing Liv was going to get you changed before she slept.

"Thank you, Rafe, for looking out for her when I didn't" Liv said as Rafe walked to your door, nodding curtly in repose to her statement.

He gave you one last look before he walked out of your door, watching as Liv was about to shut the door on him after saying goodbye. Panicked he placed his foot in front of the door before it shut, forcing it open.

"C-can I get her number, please?"

[beanxiv]

˗ˏˋ ꨄ︎ ─── THREE BEATS .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

d. wayne al-ghul x fem!reader , just under 1k word count

note: sorry for taking forever to drop this!!! btw this is partly a character study and partly me needing to output my love for damian wayne .ᐟ mood board linked in the title is edited by me but pics aren't mine obvi ! content: use of pet names, arabic petname translations: qalbi = my heart, hayati (my personal fav) = my life, i think that's all I used in there, but if not lmk and i'll translate!! 🏷: @wiseavenuelove && lmk if anyone else would like to be added :3 [main masterlist] . [dc masterlist]

“ and suddenly, everything that happened becomes easy. « و فجأة يهون كل اللي فات » ─── ”

damian is not soft. he’s the grandson of ra’s al-ghul and the son of talia al-ghul and bruce wayne. he’s ibn al khufach, trained by the league of assassins and honed to be the greatest assassin – to tame the world.

correction: damian was not soft. past tense. even when he tried his damn hardest not to be.

you bring out the best worst in him.

if someone had told him just a few months ago, that he’d be laying with his head in the lap of the most beautiful girl in the world— he’d scoff in their face. and yet—

“look at this one, dami,” you hum, one hand carding through his hair and the other tilting your phone down so he can see the tiktok on your phone. “isn't it so cute?”

you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, and he’s laid up taking the rest of the space, head propped on the plush of your thighs.

“do you want it?” he asks, lifting his gaze from his sketchbook to look at the video then at you. it’s a toy— he thinks. he’s not actually sure what it is, but it looks like a toy.

“no!” you answer quickly, because you should've seen where this would go, “well, yes, but i just think they’re cute. do not buy me one, damian.”

he ignores you, instead clicking his tongue and lifting his phone to his face. “hirono dolls?” he mutters after a few moments of typing and scrolling.

“damian.”

“i purchased four of them,” he hums, not flinching when you shake your head and say his name scolding again. “my finger slipped.”

“they're like twenty dollars each!” you huff, to which he frowns.

“twenty? you’re right, i should get you more.” he mumbles all to himself, swiping at his phone again.

“damian!” you say for about the millionth time, reaching for his phone. naturally, the demon’s son’s reflexes are too quick for you and he jerks it just out of reach.

“you want the doll and i want you happy,” he offers like that makes complete sense— and in his mind, it does.

“i am happy without you spending all your mon—”

“it's my father’s money.”

“even worse!” you sigh in half amusement, half exasperation.

“i don't see how,” he shrugs, sitting up now.

“i dont wanna watch you spend money on me every time i open my mouth about something, dami.” your gaze follows him as he straightens.

“then close your eyes,” he smirks like he always does when he comes up with a smart quip.

you swat at him playfully, “oh, you are so insufferable.”

instead of responding to your insult, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.“i bought five more. they’ll be here tomorrow morning, hayati.”

you open your mouth to say something— another retort he assumes— but before the first syllable even leaves your lips, he tugs you down by your hand to flop against his chest. “don’t,” he murmurs. “let me show my affection.”

you melt against him, arms looping around his neck, “you know, there's a lot of other ways to show affection, robin.”

“is that right?” he mumbles, moving his sketchbook and pens out of the way with his left hand— right arm still circled around your waist— so that he can lay back against the arm rest, taking you with him. “enlighten me.”

and so you lean in, press a kiss to his jaw, then his cheek and nose, until you're peppering kisses all over his face— save for his lips, to his light frustration.

“i think i’ve been enlightened,” he says, taking your chin to pull you in for a real kiss. it’s soft, slow, and entirely unexpected of a man who learned to kill before he learned alif baa and taa. it also serves to show that this side of him is reserved for you, and you only. when your eyelids are fluttering shut, forgetting the world around you– remembering only this boy in front of you who's not perfect in the slightest way but tries for you. this boy who would drop everything to be at your side, who would drain his pockets for you inverse to the way you fill his heart. a boy who'd never think he'd ever belong to someone— or, more so, have anyone to ever belong to him.

and yet here you are, in his lap with your mouth on his, reverent and like a prayer on his tongue.

damian wayne al-ghul is rarely ever speechless, and right now— when your fingers are curling in his hair— his brain feels too foggy to come up with words. forunately for him, words go unneeded when you kiss him, because he finds himself speechless every time you do.

you’re pulling back all too soon, and your eyes are sparkling in a way that makes him feel like there’s a sparkle in his own chest. the silence isn’t uncomfortable, but his heart is beating enough in a way that makes him exhale, “honestly, i would have never thought you would be interested in small toys, though i suppose i shouldn’t put it above you to be so animated over odd things and knickknacks.” you blink at him for a moment, still caught between the phantom feeling of his lips against yours, and the way it makes you feel as if you’re floating. “what?” then your expression slackens into a deadpan, “oh, seriously? you kiss me silly and then insult me?”

he smiles again, the sort of smile that tugs at his lips when he’s trying not to smile, and he laughs a bit– a sound you’ll never get tired of. “i can kiss you silly again if you’d like.” “i’d like very much,” you mock playfully, already pulling him in by the front of his shirt.

© beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, feeding into ai, translating, and modifying on any platform or by any means is not allowed.

reblogs with tags are highly appreciated!

[p1astr81]

Hey!!! I totally love all your works and i wanted to req an angsty story bc ya girl loves trauma😭😭😭 so basically reader asks either osc or max (up to u) if they wanna go on a date and since he's not rlly paying attention he jokes that he'd rather spend the time having sex💀 but reader real8ses that they never really defined their relationship and assumes he's just using her and that they're not anything and the driver is totally oblivious to all this lol😭😭 and anyway a while later reader either introduces him as her friend or flirts with someone else in front of him and he gets rlly pissed and jealous??? And they have a fight and she explains everything and he comforts herrrr❤️❤️❤️ amd then later sets up this big cheesy display to actually ask her out loll anyway yeah you ofc don't have to write this if you don't want to but if you do, enjoy❤️

some of you anons are so sweet I love you

decided to do max bc I have so many Oscar works

You chewed on the skin of your finger. Sat next to Max in the hospitality, he was paying more attention to his phone than you. “What do you think about going to dinner Tuesday night?”

A dry sounding laugh. “I’d rather eat you out.”

You blinked at how direct it was. Your fingers tapped against the table. “Okay.” Was all you could manage as your brain ran wild.

He’d turned down a date. Said he’d prefer sex. As you thought about it, there wasn’t really an occasion where he did take you out.

You weren’t even dating. He’d never made if official, never called you his girlfriend or treated you much like one.

Holy shit it’s hit you like a bullet train.

You were just an object for him to use whenever he needed a good fuck. He was using you.

He only looked up from his phone when you walked off. He called after you, asking where you were off to. You didn’t give him an answer.

The restroom stall clicked closed, securing you in the confined space. The thoughts spoke before you could suppress them.

You were nothing to him but a fuck buddy. You meant nothing. You cared for him, but he didn’t care for you. You were just convenient. Only by his side to satisfy his needs. Did he even see you as a person?

Despite being upset by your revelation, you couldn’t resist his advances later that night.

Weeks on, you still couldn’t help yourself, occasionally accepting his late-night booty calls. But you never enjoyed it as much as you used to.

He’d managed to get himself invited as your plus one to your friend’s beach party. No problem, you’d ditched him easily in the large crowd.

You were chatting with one of your friends when a guy approached. Tan skin. Dark, wavy hair. Hypnotic green eyes. Muscled, too. Toned arms and chest.

Oh, shit. You’d been shamelessly checking him out.

“-and this is, y/n.” Your friend introduced, breaking into your thoughts.

“Yeah. Hi.” You chuckled, cheeks burning—and it wasn’t from the heat. “Sorry, what was your name again? I didn’t quite catch it.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, licked your lips.

His laugh was as captivating as he was. “Andreas.” He flashed his teeth.

“Handsome name. Spanish?” You guessed.

He nodded. “Only the name is handsome?”

Your friend had left the scene. When, you weren’t sure. But she was no longer stood by your side. Your eyes explored his body again. “You’re not terrible looking.” You shrugged.

He laughed again. “And you are gorgeous.” He stepped forward. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

Before he could say anything, an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you. “What’s going on here?” The Dutch accent was plain enough. You didn’t have to look to know it was Max, or know that he was fuming.

“Oh! Andreas, this is my friend Max! Max, Andreas.”

“Oh! Verstappen, right? Man, this is incredible, it’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

Max eyed the outstretched offer and laughed humorlessly. “Yeah.” He muttered before dragging you off.

“Wha- Max! Hey-!” You stumbled after him, struggling to find footing in the uneven sand. “Where are we going?”

“Home!”

You scoffed. “Incase you forgot, we don’t live together.”

He ignored you.

“Max! Let me at least say bye it’s rude to-“

“Fine.” He spat the words like venom, still gripping onto your hand.

You led him this time, over to where your friend stood. You apologized to your friend, wished her happy birthday yet again, and bade her goodbye.

The car ride back to Max’s home was silent but tense. He glanced over at you every few seconds. You kept your eyes on the streets outside.

“What the hell was that?” He accused as the door boomed closed.

You sighed. “What was what?”

“You fucking-“ he scoffed like he’d processed your question mid sentence. “-you were fucking flirting with someone else! In front of a near hundred people!”

You threw yourself on the couch, taking up the entirety of it. Another sigh. You were in no mood for his theatrics nor to entertain them. “And why does that matter to you?”

A singular laugh of disbelief. He marched right over, standing by your side. No matter, your eyes were on the ceiling anyway. “Because you’re with me!” He cried in outrage.

Uninterested, you turned your head. Slow. “Am I now?” You raised your brows.

His jaw dropped. Silence. And then a quiet question. “Are you fucking serious?”

Sat up too quickly, your head spun momentarily. Your brows furrowed. “You have only ever paid attention to me when you want my fucking body!” Your calmness had shattered, replaced by the pent up rage of the last few weeks. You got to your feet. “You only take me to races and then pose me as your girlfriend because it’s convenient for you. The only reason I exist in your life is to please you.” Your finger jabbed in his chest with every point. “And you have no right to claim that I’m with you because we have never been on a single fucking date! Not in the five months you’ve been fucking me. I even asked you about going out to dinner and you told me you’d rather have sex.” You scoffed. The hot tears flowing down your face only became known to you when you turned away.

The back of your hand lay flat on your forehead as you took a shaky breath. You whipped around, a weak arm motioning to him. “You… I thought I meant something to you. For the longest time I-“ you choked, shrugged. “Stupid me.”

Max stood. Stunned. Speechless.

He never saw it as you had. Never thought of you as just a fuck-buddy or someone he uses to please himself. Girlfriend, he wasn’t sure if that was the word. Wasn’t ever sure if you even wanted that kind of label. But definitely dating—if there was even a difference between the two. He thought inviting you to races and ordering room service were considered dates. He thought you weren’t into lavish dinners and preferred quiet nights in. Clearly, he was an idiot.

And he told you as much, nearly word for word.

Again, you found the couch. Max sat beside you. “Evidently, we’re both terrible at communicating.” You gave a weak laugh.

“We can be better now, though.”

He had it all laid out. Your favorites scattered around his flat. Dinner plated by candlelight. Dessert on a crystal platter in the kitchen. A projector set up in the living room, prepared to display your favorite movie. Pillows and blankets lined the sofa to make it more comfortable.

And he stood in his nicest tuxedo—potentially too fancy, but it would make his point.

The front door creaked open, and in came you. In sweats and shocked. “Max what is this?” You chuckled. “What are you wearing?”

Your eyes glanced around the room, sparkling in the candlelight. A lavish display. So unlike the Max you knew, but not unappreciated.

He sported a nervous smile. “I’ve been stupid. And I want to correct that.” He pulled out a vase of your favourite flowers and held them out to you. “Will you be my girlfriend?” His voice shook, as did his hand.

You smiled softly, sheepishly. Took slow steps until you reached him. You stared at the flowers. At him. “I can’t tell if I’m underdressed or if you’re overdressed.”

“You’re overdressed. Too many clothes, I think you should take them off.” He grinned. Your brows shot up. “Sorry. Sorry. I- fuck, right.” He cleared his throat. “You look gorgeous.”

You smiled and shook your head. On your tip toes, you kissed his cheek. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

[spotsupstuff]

I'm still working on getting the gardening ending for myself, but I've been collecting some ponderings I'd like to write down. So:

A congregate of thoughts on Watcher lore (as of now):

• I really like that this DLC is right now three kids in a spiritual trenchcoat. None of them is normal. I bet they'd all be friends if they met.

• I really like the color coding of these 3, as for what I've assumed regarding to colors' symbolism in this world: - Black stands for Nirvāṇa, the Void, being outside of the reincarnation cycle - Gold/yellow stands for holiness, ascension - Blue/purple stands for damnation/stagnation - White stands for Saṃsāra, the cycle of reincarnation, the physical world (the Watcher lingers in the physical world, unwilling to leave it)

On the account of blue and yellow being on opposing sides on the color wheel, I'd also gander a guess that the Rot and the Void don't entirely agree with each other/may be on opposing sides.

• Therefore, I don't think the gardening ending was exactly what the Rot Prince wanted to achieve, supported by his last two dialogues with the Watcher:

[Greeting lines]. As with all great deeds, my work is not without great challenge. It has taken eons and the light fades. The paths close and change. I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own.

[Greeting lines]. Forgive me if I go on! You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me.

My guess is that the content that hasn't dropped yet will introduce either a new character/s in a sort of godly roles, or will explain the powers playing behind the wheel flowers and the Cycle.

• A light at the end of the tunnel (or something white/bright with a way to it?) is mentioned by both Spinning Top (at her ending) and the Prince (both as a flowerbud and in that first paragraph I copied up there).

I don't know what to do with this yet, I just found it interesting. Something something the white light within the Void Sea in the original game?

• ,,Outer Rim...?"

The Buddhist cosmology says the world is made out of 9 mountains (Mount Sumeru [the axis mundi], 7 golden mountain ranges and 1 outermost iron mountain range [maybe the withered buildings here are made of rusted iron, buried in stardust]) and 8 seas (7 freshwater and 1 saltwater), with 4 continents within the salt sea who's inhabitants each have a little something extra (except the South I guess, that's where *we* are. well apparently all Buddhas appear here actually, so you know. that's a something).

For an interesting example, the north continent called Uttarakuru is said to house the wealthy, owning no private property, where their food grows by itself and they live in the skies (Iterator cities, nudge nudge).

The name of this region could point to the Buddhist cosmological map being a physical fact for this world. I'd like to think that the dimension hopping aspect to the Watcher's worming through the space-time is at least limited to 4 continents(/realities?).

Also a fan fact: in Chinese mythology it is said the waters flow and stars fall slowly, because a water god with a bad tamper, Gònggōng, broke one of the pillars supporting the sky. Combining this fun nugget with the established lore in a pearl that everything is once eaten away by the Void down below, I'd say it is safe to assume on 89% that the dust mentioned in that pearl comes from the heaven itself and creates a sort of a cycle of the physical matter.

Suppose stardust is what creates everything, powers everything (just as is said in science). Suppose the Starcatchers are superstructures made for conversion of it into desired forms, these ones perhaps in the West of the world specifically, because of their circular shape.

(Meaning Signal Spires are perhaps of the South, while original game- aka Pebbles and Moon- are in the North of this world.)

• I find it fascinating and validating that Spinning Top needed some sort of an Embrace from one of the Five Urges/Hindrances (the third one, companionship) to be able to pass on.

It points to my idea of what the religion is Really supposed to be about: the Five Urges are what they are- urges- and they cannot run rampant. The point isn't to absolutely *eradicate* violence, pleasure, companionship, hunger and desire to live from oneself. The point is to be able to control these things and not cling on to them.

Because if one clings on to something, they stagnate, they cannot progress, they rot and they *fear* losing the something more than they can truly enjoy it or they get far too lost in it to feel it right anymore. To cling on to life means being afraid of taking risks, trying something new and really Living.

But now that doesn't mean going for the opposite is the correct way to go about it- that still creates a desire, a clinging- an urge for death is just as good as urge for life. It binds. It's extremism without careful consideration for what is really the best to do, feel and think in any given situation.

(This goes for love, too, it is GOOD to love, but going too far becomes unhealthy obsession instead of love. Going the other way results in hatred, another utterly useless and harmful thing to harbor. Same as indifference - that is stagnation again, that isn't picking up something, working with it to move forward. Love is a forward motion that is required, but cannot be overdone because as so it would be bastardized into something else, possessive and caging.)

Spinning Top could move on only when she knew that the flipside of the Third Urge- a sickening loneliness- wasn't something to fear anymore.

• Yeah, I don't think we can count on backgrounds too much when it comes to size calculating on the basis that they are probably shaped around gameplay. Specifically thinking about how the spinning top toy changes sizes between it's in-game model and the art. When it comes to Ancients, I'd say the best one can do is do what feels right.

• The Rot Prince is some sort of a boosted up Preta, I swear to heavens. Hungry guy. Maybe the Rot as a whole is a Preta stand in, just way more physical.

• Can't believe my ,,Respawning is real" headcanon has been officially given the thumbs down... The *Strand* Theory is real. (Even though DP is separate from the Watcher, this at least explains why Artificer didn't just go back to the last shelter she slept in when her cubs were still with her. They went to a different strand, where a different Artificer managed the situation better and we are stuck in this reality without them.) (We see them in her Void ending either because they are the one thing her heart wishes for [the Void gives comfort to those who are passing, as far as I am concerned], or because the Void is where all the reality strands and times coincide into one another.)

• On that note, no Fucking wonder the Ancients wanna bail - we don't really know to what extend they were aware of reality's unwounding nature, but assuming it is Pretty Thorough, I too wouldn't wanna live with the knowledge that in one reality I might've died on my loved ones, leaving them broken, while in the other everything is just fine and dandy.

The endless wondering of ,,Did I die in a different reality at any point in my life? Did I leave these people I love behind to hurt, alone, and I can't do anything to help them? I can never know, I'm not allowed to comprehend..." would slowly kill anyone with a heart, I think.

• I wonder if the Prince is a puppet/the Rot made itself a puppet, - because the Starcatchers were Iterator-esque biomechanications with a different directive than iterating on the Big Problem and this is a consumed Starcatcher (something about its budding dialogue feels to me like there was a sense of a Self beforehand that was drowned out by the Rot and then was pulled forward again with additions) - because the Rot is at the edge of the universe (humming a tune) where a messed up slugcat decided to start ripping holes in the reality, therefore connecting different strands including to places where the Rot already existed as a plague upon Some Iterator, which gave spark to sapience and inspiration to a new mind

• The new karma set is definitely a droplet and the ripples it leaves behind. Makes sense, too, there's more ,,movement" within it the more Spinning Top yanks the Watcher around in time-space (accidentally, I'd guess. or the ,,blame" is more on Watcher *somehow*), messing up their physical existence more and more.

Maybe the karma symbols or the imagery itself have something to do with a combination of an axis mundi and the strand form of existence.

Something about there being a main timeline in which each action and decision creates a new ripple, a new strand.

• I wonder if the Watcher could've come across Spinning Top and effectively latch on/follow her, - because they were already dead/echoed (the dream sequence upon reaching the final karma level could mean they did go to the Void Sea and swam pretty deep but turned back and that resulted in Echo-ification? then again why can a lizard bite me. Spinny's laughing at me for it. Goddammit.) - because of their nature as someone who's so damn hesitant about things, who hangs in the backlines, only observes and learns. Very Echo-esque personality - because of their desire to have someone there

• Just realized that we have a canonical design for Spinning Top's mask, hot damn. ,,How do children's masks look like?" answered.

I don't know why, that kind of creeps me out.

• The portals existing outside of us are made by Spinning Top, I'm pretty sure. She's always over them.

Is it normal for Echoes to leave tears like that? I think if the Rot Prince met her and knew she's the one who started this whole journey that resulted in him coming to exist as a consciousness and to bloom, he'd see her as a friend the same way he sees the Watcher.

• I wonder if his approach to the Rot Triple Affirmitive is ,,it's going to get worse before it gets better". He has suffered, too- while he normally speaks gently, calmly, orderly, when he is a flowerbud he seems frantic to me. Like someone breathing through death before getting better.

• Is the concept of the Rot Prince created for the first time in all existences' or is he a repeating pattern, too? The Rot in the least seems to be a pattern, because of what Spinning Top says when we meet her in one of the original regions, eaten through by the Rot.

,,You shouldn't have come here. It's too far." Does that refer to this strand's/ripple's distance from the axis mundi/the water drop creating all these realities? The further out the little wave carries out, growing smaller and weaker, the more rotten through it is? Is it because still water is stagnation, just as the Rot is?

So the Cycle is change and movement, life and love, that exists in a hurtful matter not out of its design, but because it has to contend with absolute stillness/stagnation/the Rot? Or it's all part of the same system, truly designed like this?

Could a Mass Ascension be seen as an escape plan from a ripple growing old? Man...

• A quick attempt at illustrating the previous thought:

Some Pepe Silvia level nonsense going on here.

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

[eraserbread]

suguru is so nice to u until u interrupt his meeting :( now he has to punish u in front of his husband, satoru. or, you and geto's pov from this drabble

check out parts 1. 2. 3. 4.

"just give me an hour, dear! i'll be with you so soon, I just have this meeting-

if you didn't stop him now, suguru would go on and on, assuming you're mad at him. you shake off his worry, giving him a sweet smile as you lounge back on their huge sectional. if you can help it, you always choose to do schoolwork at their house. i mean, come on, if satoru isn't here, all of his textbooks and cheat sheets from years of work are.

"I have this... exam to study for, just take your time."

he's leaning out of his office door down the hall, hair pinned back in a professional twist. you love him like this -- especially when his bangs are out. your brain loses all function when he looks at you with a gaze so packed full of admiration.

"you need anything at all, don't hesitate, okay? let me know."

"'m okay, geto-kun." you've caught yourself latching onto gojo's horny nicknames, but you admit he has a knack for them. in their presence, you're never called by your name. it's always some random love-licked phrase -- ducky was a current favorite of satoru's. suguru is mainly happy calling you his baby and referring to you as 'dear' like always. he's a man of habit, and you're blessed to be one of them.

"alright!" like a whack-a-mole, he disappears quickly behind the door, and you can hear him beginning to talk shortly after. he keeps his door open so you always feel comfortable to rush to him if need be. and, he kinda wants you to. this is his meeting after all, he chose this time and he could reschedule if you asked him just right.

while suguru goes on and on about inflation and property costs nonsense, you turn back to your textbook, balancing a highlighter between your teeth as you skim the same paragraph over and over again. seems like everytime you read it, your brain short circuits and deletes all information about the topic. cruel. your exam was literally next week.

right now, you were studying for your life science course, and though satoru taught chemistry, he's bounced around enough subjects to have ample cheating material. only issue is, satoru and suguru share an office, and suguru is knee-deep in a meeting, currently.

you'd have to be a bother, but you were okay with that.

suguru's smooth voice gets louder as you stand and walk down the hall. you're not too worried about being seen on camera, but you are wearing scandalously short shorts. now, it's just a habit whenever you visit your men. they like to look at you and you were happy to oblige, once more.

"mhm, and that's just the unfortunate truth about living in the city... those house insurance prices..." suguru drones, using his crossed hands as a chin rest over his desk. peeking in through the door, you can see he's in a space with about four or five other people. hell, it's better than twenty.

"and that's true for a lot of us, here-

"sugu..!" you whisper, peeking your head through the door. Immediately he whips his head, eyes wide in worry.

"yes?"

"no- i'm okay, i just." you creak the door further, stepping one foot inside the drafty room. "need to steal some of satoru's textbooks. they're behind you. the camera."

suguru turns around in his office chair, eyeing the insane shelf of books he's looked at for years. its only when you entered their life, did they finally serve a purpose. he nods. "which do you need? I'll grab them."

you take a few steps in the room, assuming his microphone is muted if he's speaking so openly. "life science? anything with bio, honestly. shit is impossible."

"i'm curious to see how much life science a writer will have to utilize." he laughs to himself, smiling as he combs the shelf for anything of the sort. it's true, his husband stock piles on books and material for a rainy day.

"stupid electives. oh, look." you get far too excited when you see it -- a hardcover bound book with 'Science: The Study of Life in All of It's Forms.' on the third shelf from the top. you point it out to suguru, but he's squinting in vain. "third shelf up, sugu."

"aha. gotcha." suguru stands on his toes, reaching up to retrieve the textbook and hand it off to you perfectly out of camera-shot. he's not too worried about his colleagues seeing you, but he's worried about them seeing you like this -- clothed loosely. you can respect his wishes. "go on now, dear."

"yes, sir." you scrape your teeth over your bottom lip as you give him a goodbye look, slipping back out through the door.

you only get a few chapters deep before you're bored and pining again. suguru was still in his meeting, and you really wish you were keeping track of time so you knew when satoru was due to be back.

you stand from your warm spot to take the book back, walking slowly to make sure he's still in the meeting before creaking the door open again. you definitely can wait for him to be done to put it back, but you're bored. suguru is free entertainment - what can you say?

suguru doesn't notice you at first. he's too busy nodding along to whatever gibberish another is spewing. you could call his name, but you didn't want to be too annoying, so you leave the book by the door and drop to your knees.

"yep. it's actually a great idea, once we head into this second quarter that will definitely be a factor." suguru continues, completely oblivious to your stalking. you're on all fours, trying your best to keep your head down as you approach him.

"sugu, i'm so bored."

poor suguru -- he almost jumps out of his skin. "fuck..!" then he curses again when he realizes he's in fact not muted.

"geto-kunnnn, please?"

suguru is flustered as hell trying to mute himself and flip his camera off. tomorrow he will push it off on technical difficulties, but nobody truly would give a damn. it's just a formality thing.

he tries his hardest to come off authoritative with you, but he's just flushed and embarrassed. doesn't help that you were sitting at his feet like the perfect little clingy pet.

"please, what?"

"i'm so fucking bored."

"why is that my issue?" suguru's voice dips a tone lower once he reads your energy. i mean, you're at his fucking feet sitting so pretty and patient. he loves when you look up at him and those innocent eyes widen. god, he's just obsessed with you.

he brings a hand down to pet over your face, tracing your lips against his fingertips. his breath catches in his throat as you part your lips, swirling your tongue across his pointer.

"fuck."

"you have something i want."

"yeah? yeah, you just stay just like that..." he mumbles, guts swimming with pleasure as he digs in his back pocket for his shiny black phone. "take my fucking fingers, baby. pretend like 's my cock you're kissing."

"mm, sugu..." his pillow talk is always the best and his flips it on and off so well. he could be calling you a beautiful angel at one moment, then flipping it and calling you his cock slut. there's truly no medium.

"...and pose real pretty for satoru."

suguru's pointing his phone over you, capturing the perfect lewd photo to send directly to satoru's phone. it takes less than a minute for his husband to respond in flustered messages, it draws a smile across his perfect face.

"somebody's a fan... personal request: pull her shirt up so I can see the goods. what a dork."

"it's like all you guys care about is seeing me naked."

"says the one sneaking into my office looking to get fucked." there's no buffer behind his words, he had you right where he wanted you.

vaguely, he can hear the sound of the meeting continuing, but doesn't listen. it's impossible to do anything when you're staring at him with wet lips and needy eyes.

"fuck, are you fucking kidding me? so fucking pretty." he's growling, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he reaches down to slide his arm under the hem of your shirt, large hand coming out of the neckline to choke you softly. you bare your neck completely for him, shivering as the coolness of his hands take over your entire nervous system. now, you're cold to the touch, and you wanted suguru to warm you up.

instead, he snaps another set of photos, sending them to satoru before tossing his phone to the side. he had a mind to fuck you up. in the nicest, suguru geto way possible. but, there was no nice way to describe what he'd do to you. he wants to turn your ass a burning red before stuffing it full of him.

yeah... that'll do just fine. but, first. he actually leaves his meeting. one cuss word wasn't damaging, but fucking his girlfriend in front of some of the richest realtors in the city wasn't a good idea.

once he presses that 'leave meeting' button, he's dragging you to your feet by the hold he has on your neck. you're already a whining mess for him, trying to catch your footing as he throws you over his lap.

suguru's always been the more gentler one of the two, though looks can be deceiving. satoru was a freak, suguru was just happy to be there to deal with it. but, when they're apart, suguru fills that freaky role just enough to keep you interested.

"gonna make this ass nice and red and give satoru a good shot." he mumbles, large palm massaging over your clothed ass. your shorts were too tight to wiggle off, suguru would actually have to peel them off of you, but he had other intentions.

"w-why?" you whine, standing on the tips of your toes to accommodate his height. "you said to come to you if I needed anything."

"i meant actual, important things. like... hey sugu, where's the pasta? i'd love to make you a meal."

"shoulda told me you were hungry-

"yeah, well now my meal is laid out on my lap." he places a little experimental slap to your ass, watching as you mewl and arch your back. the sight makes him lick his lips. he's so oblivious to the constant string of texts lighting up his phone because you're so damn intoxicating. "uh, tell me if it's to-

"just do it." you whine through clamped teeth, digging your fingers in the thickness of his right thigh. he finally slides his hand between the fabric of your shorts, giving them a few good tugs until they're tight around your knees.

"god, you're already so wet. gonna stain my pants." he growls, dipping his fingers between your cheeks and through your wetness. it's so humiliating, you bury your face deeper into your arm. you don't know why you get like this alone with suguru -- you just want to impress him, to give him an out of body experience. with satoru, its easier to balance out, and you don't have to worry about saying something stupid, because satoru already has.

this was so much more than a crush or baseless lust.

"but, you're a damn menace."

then, it comes: a strong, full bodied slap erupts against your ass, the aftershocks ricocheting off the walls. he hits like a man, not bothering to hold back because he knows you've taken worse. your skin blooms a magnificent shade of red in his wake, just begging for more color from his hand.

so, he hits you again.

and again,

then, once more.

he doesn't even realize your toes are strained and your cheeks are damp, he's terrible at losing himself in the moment. satoru is useful in always bringing him back to reality.

yet, he carries on after a brief pause, sucking in a breath before laying a series of four -- two on each cheek, making you shriek and writhe against him.

you wish you could see his face staring down at you. you're wondering if this is taking as much a toll on him as it was for you. but, suguru is strong, and his self-control is frightening, so probably not. the most he'd likely do right now without satoru is touch you a bit and send you on your way so he can finish his work. but, you don't want that. you came in here for a reason -- craving alone time with suguru for once.

you didn't care if it got you spanked or tossed around; you just wanted to be at his sweet, sweet mercy.

he gives you no warning when he trails his fingers down between your cheeks, biting over his bottom lip as he plays with your clit softly. His touch is gentle, but it shocks you. you seethe out a moan, reaching for something to grab onto in your vicinity. There's nothing -- all you can do is cover your mouth and cry into them as two thick fingers press inside of you.

it makes you shudder, broken moans falling from your muffled lips. it takes him less than a minute to find his way around your body, using his thumb to keep your clit interested as he fondles your g-spot. fingering is one of those guilty pleasures of his -- he loves the way you feel inside, the way you shiver and heat him ten degrees. it's so hot, you're so hot.

"satoru's gonna come home and fuck you limp, i just know it."

"do-don't talk like that!"

"no?" he pouts, raising his eyebrows as he tucks a third finger alongside his two, watching how your darling face turns up in inexplicable pleasure. "you don't believe me?" he's teasing you so fucking hard, using that gorgeous ass tone of voice that tears you at the seams. he doesn't even realize the effect he has on you as he takes another photo, gasping at the results as he sends it to satoru.

you knew you'd be in a whirlwind of trouble once he gets home.

satoru comes home...

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 13

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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Navigation — Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

[theliving-radio]

Sorry If this one is too confusing 😭 

So basically NRC (maybe Ortho too but platonic love) with a s/o that got turned into a cat by a potion mix-up, not naming names Grim and Adeuce 👀 (also, maybe reader could be like a maine coon? Idk but I love the idea of reader was a cat they would be bigger than grim but any cat is cute 😖) but the twist is that s/o is not a normal cat, but actually a flerken (If you don't know what that is, it's basically a space cat from marvel) So when Idia is petting them too aggressive or Floyd is squeezing them too tightly or if anyone is annoying them, they just open their mouth and swallow them up like a fckin snack, and maybe spit them back out when they're in a good mood leaving them so fckin traumatized. And the people witnessing it are like 🧍

I know about the Flerken! I used to be such a huge ass Marvel fan so many years ago! I fell off the band wagon right after Avengers: End Game. I even have an old fanfic posted on Wattpad for Marvel… I… haven’t worked on it in such a long time…

Please don’t attack me lol

Anyway, instead of just every character at once, I did every dorms reaction. Just to add some spice and fun to the mix!

And for the funnies

Warning: human consumption (but not gory or bloody. Just pocket dimension stuff), not part of the Big Brother Malleus writing, can be romantic or platonic (Ortho is clearly platonic)

And I do apologize for taking so long on writing this! Get distracted really easily.

Like REALLY easily. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

“… Oops?”

Grim had no idea how it happened. He didn’t! You couldn’t possibly blame him for accidentally mixing up your drink with the potion assignment he was supposed to turn in!

But here you guys were, back in Ramshackle. Him looking up at your now fluffy fur body.

Cat.

You were now a cat.

“Listen, I can fix this!”

“Mrep…”

“Don’t doubt me hench… cat?”

Your cat self rolled its eyes and stood up on all fours. Before Grim was able to say anything, you picked him up by the scruff of his neck with your mouth and trotted out of Ramshackle.

The scene looked like a mother cat dragging away her baby kitten.

“MRAH! Let me go! I command it!”

You ignored him and went straight to the mirror chamber, hoping that one of your friends in the dorms will help you.

Heartslabyul

Ace and Deuce started losing their shit as soon as they saw Grim being dragged by a larger cat in the Heartslabyul garden.

“Grim, Who’s the fluffy one?” Deuce covers his mouth to hide his smile.

“Did you finally find your parent figure?” Ace teased.

“CAN IT, ACE!” You plop Grim down and trot over to Deuce who bent down to give you scratches.

Grim dusts himself off, grumbling under his breath. “I could have walked just fine! You didn’t have to drag me all the way here!”

You ignored Grim as you happily laid down in the grass and rolled over. Deuce’s eyes practically sparkled when you presented your belly to him, and he carefully rubbed it, making you purr happily.

“Mrah! Henchmen! Stop being difficult!” Grim shouted, his words causing Deuce to stop giving you pets and Ace to let out a strangled wheeze.

“P-prefect!?”

“Oh Sevens! What did you do this time!?” Ace crouches a bit as he begins laughing once again.

Grim crosses his arms and looks away. “I didn’t do anything! It was… it was them! They shouldn’t leave their stuff around in the first place!”

Offended! Scandalized! Wrong!

You picked yourself up from the grass and walked over to Grim…

Then swatted him.

“MRAH!?” Grim lets out a startled sound as he rubs his head. Before he was able to ask why you did that, you swatted him again. And again. And again.

Ace was on the grass floor laughing his ass off. It was like watching a cat hitting their child if they misbehaved.

“I would assume you’re finished painting the roses.” Ace stops his laughing and looks over to see Riddle, Cater, and Trey walking over. Riddle squints his eyes at the roses, seeing some of them still white and untouched by the crimson red paint.

“D-dorm Leader Riddle! We uh- we actually have a good reason why we aren’t finished!” Deuce tries to explain as he picks you up and shows you to the three upper class-men.

Cater gasps as he takes his phone out, quickly snapping photos of your fluffy figure. You only blinked at him and tilted your head, causing the ginger to squeal. “Oh my Sevens! They are totes adorbs!”

“A cat?! Why is there a cat here?” Riddle asks, his face showing confusion before he lets out a gasp. “The Hedgehogs! Are the hedgehog’s safe?! Did this cat do something!?”

“I’ll go check on them right now-!”

“There is no need to do that!” Deuce cuts Trey off. “This is the Prefect!”

There was a long pause between all the Heartslabyul students. The Three upper class-men processing what the first year just said. Riddle stares at Deuce and Ace before opening his mouth. “… what did you two do?”

Deuce sputters and Ace quickly looked offended. “We didn’t do anything! Grim was the one that did this!”

“Mew.” You let out a small meow and Cater broke out from his shock and started rapidly taking pictures once again.

Riddle groans as he takes a deep breath. Inhale, exhale… he didn’t want to blow his head off in front of the Prefect after all. “Grim, explain to me… what you gave the Prefect.”

“How am I supposed to know?! It’s their fault their water bottle and the potion bottle looked the same!”

“What was the potion you made?” Grim went quiet when Riddle asked the question. The dire-beast mumbles something under his breath and Riddle’s eye twitches. “Repeat that again.”

“It was supposed to be a Sleepy time potion! To help the drinker sleep better!”

“HOW DID YOU FULLY MESS THAT UP?!” Riddle full on shouts at Grim, causing the poor, small feline cat to flinch. “A Sleep potion? You messed up a SLEEP potion???”

“Riddle-,” Trey tries to calm Riddle down, but Riddle fully ignores him.

“In what universe could you possibly mix up a Sleep potion for a transfiguration potion?! And you didn’t even bother to check what you brought first before handing it to the Prefect?!”

Riddle continues going off on Grim, scolding him nonstop.

It was too noisy.

Your maw opens, an eldritch presence unnoticed by the others in the room, solely focused on Riddle. A single pink, flesh like tendril lulls out.

Targeting Riddle.

Nobody was able to progress what happened, it went by so fast. One second Riddle was standing right between Cater and Trey, the next he was gone. All they were able to see was a flash of… something… coming from you.

Deuce was the first one to snap out of it and let out a scream, dropping you in the process. Thank Sevens for cat-like reflexes! You landed perfectly on all hours and grabbed ahold of Grim once again, and bolted out of the Heartslabyul dorm.

Trey blinks at where Riddle was once standing, then the universe snaps him out of it. “W-wait! Hold on!”

“Suddenly… Prefect isn’t as cute as a cat anymore.” Cater spoke up as he watched Trey sprint towards the direction where you left.

“Would they even be considered a cat after what we just saw?! What the hell are they?!”

“I was giving them belly rubs this whole time… they could have eaten me too…” Deuce looks at his own hands in horror. Meanwhile Ace was cursing at the sky, and Cater was swiping through his photos he took of you.

Savanaclaw

Leona let out a loud snort when he saw Grim squirming around and getting dragged by a larger, fluffier cat then him. He had to cover his mouth to hide his smirk that threatened to break across his face.

You decided to try your luck in Savanclaw in hopes maybe Leona would help you out. He was in his third year after all!… even though he’s been held back a few times already due to being lazy and not giving a damn. Either way, you hope the lion beat-man can help.

“Prefect! Stop dragging me! You are the henchman, and I am the great mage! I should not have to be treated like this! And what was that from earlier! Why did you eat him?!”

Leona was on his way out to the botanical gardens to nap and get away from his noisy dorm. Now, he is more interested in what the hell is going on.

“Oui, Grim… who’s your new friend? Did you finally get a parent figure to treat your spoiled hind?” Leona couldn’t help tease the dire-beast as he strode over to the two of you.

When you spotted Leona making his way over to you, you casually dropped Grim off. When he was released, Grim immediately ran and hid behind Leona.

“Oui, what do you think you're doing? Get off.”

“No way! I ain’t getting close to the Prefect, after they turned into that… that thing!”

Leona looks over at your new fluffy body…

You were currently grooming one of your paws and rubbing it against one of your kitty ears.

“You turned the Prefect into a harmless house cat?”

“They ain’t a normal house cat! Nor are they harmless!”

As you were cleaning yourself, you felt a hand grab you from the nape of your neck and pulled you up. Leona held you in front of him and sniffed you… just by your scent alone he was able to confirm it was indeed you. But there was also something off with your scent, something unnatural…

“Housewarden Leona!” Leona pulls you away from him and glances over to where the voice came from, noticing Jack and Ruggie making their way over to him. Ruggie was currently eating a donut that Jack offered him just a while ago. He was even going to offer some to Leona.

“Ah, what’s with the fuzz ball?” Ruggie glances over at you and then see’s Grim hiding behind Leona’s leg, taking a bite from his guilty treat. “And what’s got you so spooked?”

“Leona, is that the prefect?” Jack speaks up.

“You smell them too, right? Yeah it’s them. Putting two and two together, I’m guessing Grim messed up some sort of potion.”

“I didn’t mess anything up!” Grim tries to protest as he looks up at Leona.

Ruggie snickers as he goes to take another bite from his donut… he never got the chance.

You lick your chops, eyes focused on the pastry in Ruggie’s possession. He noticed your intent a second too late, unable to protect his treat as you collect it like picking up a mug before swallowing it whole via tentacle.

Everyone went quiet.

You let out a small burp.

“MY DONUT!”

“THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT?!”Jack yells at the Hyena beast-men. “Did you not see what shot out of the Prefect's mouth?!”

“See? See?! I told you!” Grim points his paw at you while looking up at Leona. Meanwhile the Dorm Leader wasn’t sure on what to do in this situation.

Sensing how Leona was unsure what to do, you decided it was time to go.

When you began to approach Grim, he took a step back. “Mrah! You stay away, Henchmen!” Ah, so he was gonna be difficult…

Before Grim was going to protest once more, a single tentacle shoots out of your mouth and grabs him. All three of the Savanaclaw students just watched in horror as you gobbled up Grim.

And went on your merry way.

“… I think I’m just gonna go take a nap in my room.”

“I’m suddenly not hungry anymore…”

“… shouldn’t we go after them?!”

Both Ruggie and Leona walk away from Jack. Not that concerned about what happened, or want to be part of it.

Octavinelle

“Jade?”

“Yes, Azul?”

“Can you explain to me why there is a cat sitting on the lounge bar?”

You sat upon the bar, lounging without a care in the world. When you left Savanaclaw, you hoped that maybe Azul would help out. Unfortunately Jade found you and decided to give you chin scritches.

You really enjoyed those.

Right beside you was a bowl of water and a small plate of cooked mushrooms that Jade really wanted you to try out. He wanted to see if cats could really eat mushrooms. Since you weren’t fully a cat, they should be fine… right?

“I found them in the dorm, they looked so hungry and lost… and I couldn’t just let them be.”

“… so you decided to feed them mushrooms…”

Jade smiles as he watches you sniff your plate before digging in. He’s been watching you eat the Turkey Tail Mushroom for 20 minutes now. This was actually your second plate, and Jade was more than pleased when he saw you scarf down the first.

“These mushrooms better not be harmful! I don’t want a dead animal to scare off our customers.”

“Don’t worry, these types of mushrooms are nonlethal to both dogs and cats.” Jade assures Azul as he gently pets your head, causing you to lean into his touch and purr. Azul only squints his eyes at you, placing his hand on his chin as he comes up with an idea.

“Why don’t we use them to lure in some customers? They seem well behaved.”

Just when you heard Azul say that, you sat up and jerked your body a bit. Azul panics, thinking the worst. “Jade, you said those were nonlethal!” The dorm leader looks at Jade, who looked just as confused as they watched you make coughing sounds and your body jerking.

Then you spit out a large hairball.

A hairball that shouldn’t come out of a cat.

Jade and Azul step back as they just stare in shock as Grim was laying on the lounge's bar face down, covered in saliva.

You went back to eating.

Grim lets out a gasp like he’s been holding his breath the whole time he was inside your dimensional body. He was able to breathe just fine, he didn’t have to be so dramatic.

Drama queen.

“Grim?! What in Sevens?!”

“FIX THEM!”

Grim scrabbles to Azul, only for the Octo-mer to back away from the slimy dire-beast.

“I don’t care if I have to sign a contract! Just fix the Prefect!”

“Oya~? Is that the prefect?” Jade looks in amusement as he watches you finish another plate of mushrooms. Maybe he should have given you something… better to eat.

Azul pushes his glasses up as he glances over to you. Grim didn’t turn you into some type of house cat… no, this was more weird than that.

“Eeh~ What’s with the kitty cat?” Before Azul was able to come up with a good idea to turn you back… and to scam Grim… Floyd walked into the lounge.

You looked over at the eel twin and saw his smile widen as he began to approach you.

Red alert!

Danger!

Activate distraction!

Your body starts jerking again and you cough off something much larger. Something more human like…

Floyd stops in his tracks as he watches you cough up a slime covered Riddle. The poor redhead was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with horror and disbelief.

At least he’s more calm now.

Floyd bursts out laughing as he sees Riddle, the laughter causing him to snap out of it and to finally take in his surroundings. Jade was intrigued by events that were unfolding. Azul stared in horror at the slime that was getting all over the lounge floor, wondering if it would stain at all.

Distraction successful!

You take this as your cue to leave, this time not even bringing Grim with you.

“H-hey! Prefect! Get back here!” Azul chases you as soon as you see an opportunity to escape the Ocavinelle dorm.

As you run, all you hear behind you is Floyd laughing at Riddle's misfortune, and Riddle trying to inform Jade on what’s happening with you.

Scarabia

“Jamil! Jamil, look!”

Jamil was currently finishing up the dishes when he heard Kalim come running into the dorm's kitchen. He lets out a sigh, mentally preparing what Kalim was going to show him. When he turned around to face the dorm leader, it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting it to be.

Kalim was holding you out to Jamil, showing you off to his best friend. You slow-blink at Jamil who only stared at you with indifference. When he looks up at Kalim, he just expresses how unimpressed he was.

“I found this cat trying to get into the dorm!”

“… and you just let them in?”

“They might be hungry and are trying to look for food!” Kalim smiles as he changes his position on holding you, now cradling you in his arms.

You weren’t hungry after your mushroom meal, but you were thirsty. Thankfully, Jamil was able to pick up on that and began to prepare of bowl of water for you. Right as he laid it out for you, Kamil was more than happy to put you down right in front of the bowl.

“Can we keep them?”

“Kalim, you don’t need a pet cat. And it would be a terrible idea to keep them in the dorm. Look how thick their fur is, they would overheat, I wouldn't be too surprised if you hadn’t found them, they would have blacked out.”

Jamil's words caused Kalim to deflate just a bit, but he was able to bounce back up. “What if we find them a new home? That way they would be taken care of and be comfortable!”

Jamil already felt a headache starting to form.

In the corner vision, you see something scitter across the kitchen counter. You lick your lips as you pick your head up the water bowl and zeroed in on the small bug…

It was a harmless beetle.

But you knew for a fact that Jamil wouldn’t think so.

When the vice house warden saw your attention drawn away from the water, he looked at what you were staring at… only to tense up when he saw the beetle.

“Kalim…”

“I see it! Don’t worry, I got it!” Kalim was more than happy to help. The sweet sunshine child went to grab a napkin and a glass cup. When Kalim retrieved his items, he turned towards the beetle and slowly began to approach the counter.

But this wasn’t just any type of beetle.

This bitch had wings.

As soon as Kalim made his first step, the thing spread its wings out and started to take off. The house warden let out a startled yelp, and Jamil was ready to scream bloody murder as he grabbed his magic pen.

As much as you would have loved to enjoy this little chaotic show, you didn’t want to be in the crossfire between Jamil and his magic.

Before any spells were casted, you opened your mouth and a large tendril slipped out and grabbed hold of the beetle, and just as quickly… you drew it back in and swallowed the thing.

Like a frog.

Both Kalim and Jamil stared down at you; the silence in the room felt loud.

“Oh! Thank you very much!” Kalim put down his items and picked you up, raising you above his head and spun around. “You wanted to help, didn’t you? That’s so sweet!”

“Kalim! That’s not an ordinary cat! Did you not see what just happen?!”

“I’m gonna name you Froggy!”

You only let out a small burp as Kalim gave you your new name, swaying you side to side.

Jamil was starting to feel that headache. Just when he was about to protest about Kalim keeping the ‘cat’ again, a familiar voice made its way into the Scarabia kitchen.

“Ah, te voilà, trickster!” Rook walks in the kitchen with ease as he strode over to Kalim who was still holding you. Kalim beams as he sees the Pomefiore Vice house warden. “Rook! What a surprise!”

Jamil took you from Kalim and presented you to Rook. “I’m guessing you're here for… this… please take them away from here.”

“Oh, why thank you! Word has spread that the Prefect has turned into an alien-like cat, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to take them to Roi du Poison.”

“THAT’S THE PREFECT?!” Jamil yells as his headache comes in at full force.

“Oui! I must go now! So thank you!” Rook doesn’t explain anything else as he whisks you away from Scarabia.

Kalim and Jamil just stand there in the kitchen, processing the quick retreat the vice Housewarden of Pomefiore made.

Jamil rubs his temples “ … I’m going to my room and taking a nap.”

“Ah, I’ll get the washcloth.”

Pomefiore

“CUT!”

Vil’s sharp voice echoes throughout the courtyard, making everyone in the Film Club stop what they were doing.

The Film Club was currently doing a short sci-fi horror scene. Vil wanted to give himself and his club members a challenge since sci-fi and horror isn’t their usual go to genre for filming. Thankfully, Ortho and Epel are helpful for stirring them in the correct direction.

“We’ve filmed this scene over and over… yet I feel like something is lacking in this… alien…”

Everyone looks over at one of the actors who was dressed up like a snake-mix-octopus-mix-crocodile.

The actor only gave Vil a little wiggle with his costume.

“Your acting is good, but the costume… I feel like I’m looking at a child's drawing come to life. Where did we get this costume again?”

“This was actually hand made…”

“So it is a child’s drawing come to life… truly a nightmare,” Vil lets out a sigh as he walks over to Ortho to go over the footage they captured. Epel was sitting off to the side to watch how everything was going.

“Roi du Poison!” Members of the Film Club looked over to see Rook. He was practically skipping over to Vil while holding a super fluffy cat. “I have found you an alien!”

Vil blanks as Rook presented you to him. You couldn’t help but slowly blink at Vil and meow at him. He didn’t look all that impressed by seeing you.

“This is a cat, Rook.”

“Oui!”

“Why, in the sevens, would this be an alien? It just looks like an ordinary cat you would find off the street.”

You were more than just a street cat!

Rook was already sensing you wanted to show off that you weren’t just some simple cat, so he took an apple out from under his hat.

Vil was ready to question him before Rook tossed it in the air.

You zeroed in on the fruit and opened your mouth, allowing the tentacle to zip out and take a hold on the apple, and bring it back to you. Students in the Film Club let out a scream as they witnessed the slimy appendage come out of your mouth. Vil didn’t really respond, but he begins to think on how to put you in the movie now.

“House Warden Vil! You have to let them in the short film!” Epel shouts enthusiastically.

“Are they trained?”

“Even better! It's actually the Prefect!” Rook smiles as he announces it was really you.

You nod to confirm it was, and that you understood what was going on.

Vil smiles as he claps his hands together, pleased with the new addition to his short film.

And that’s how you got to be the alien in Vils New Short Film. At first the Club members were a bit weary, but upon learning that you were the Ramshackle Prefect, they fully accepted you instead of just some weird cat Rook found.

Ortho kept staring at you in pure awe when the actors went to the scene to reveal the part of the alien. You let out a hiss and revealed the bunches of tentacles and tendrils, just a cluster of horrors.

Every moment when filming was over, Ortho kept doing scans over your new body. The results he kept getting back were quite curious.

You didn’t turn into an ordinary cat. And Ortho was intrigued by this, even going as far as to send his brother the scans and data he was collecting.

One of the scenes that the club needed to capture was when one of the characters gets taken away from the alien. And you happily delivered it.

By gobbling up your fellow Night Raven Classmate.

Members from the club screamed in horror from behind the scenes as they watched the poor victim be taken away in one gulp. Vil had absolutely no words to say as he watched you target the next sad victim.

“Rook, you mentioned to me offhand that they’ll be ok, right?”

“Oui! The Prefect has taken both Roi de Roses and Monsieur Fuzzball and spit them out in safe conditions!”

Vil raised an eyebrow as he stared at his vice Housewarden, “Define, in your words… ‘Safe conditions’.”

Just when Rook was going to answer Vil, you came padding along.

Then you coughed up the club members.

Both actors just laid there on the ground, looking absolutely wrecked. Meanwhile you just started cleaning yourself.

The Pomefiore Housewarden looked at his own club members with absolute disgust seeing them covered in questionable slime and saliva. “Both of you, shower… Now!” That seemed to have snapped the two members out of their small daze as they scrambled to get up and head to their dorms to freshen up.

“Vil Schoenheit,” Both Vil and Rook turn to see Ortho hovering towards them. “If it’s ok with you, after doing today's scenes, can I take the Prefect? I’ve been doing scans and collecting data on them. I got a message from Idia and he wants to check on them.”

“Well, Idia is more then welcome to have them. We are done for today anyway.” Vil glances over to you.

You were innocently laying on your back waiting for your next victim to pet your tum tum.

“The shots we’ve collected are better than I expected them to be. Prefect,” you pick your head up and look at Vil. “You did fantastic today.”

You slowly blink at him and begin to purr.

Ortho giggles as he moves over to you and gently picks you up. “Come on, Prefect, I’m going to take you to big brother. He’s quite curious about what you turned into… and he wants to play with you.”

You let out a small mew as you let Ortho float away with you. Vil waved Ortho goodbye as he looked over the footage, pleased with the results they got.

Ignihyde

“Wehehehe~ Prefect you have such soft toe beans~” Idia happily let you sit in his lap as he played with your tiny cat paws, he was even taking photos of you from all angles. You didn’t mind, you just sat there peacefully with your eyes closed and your tongue sticking out just a bit.

Ortho giggles as he secretly records his brother playing with you. It was too cute! Plus, their mom has been asking how Idia has been doing, and Idia has been dodging her questioning and all that. Now, Ortho can have something to send to her.

“The Prefect seems to be enjoying themselves, brother! It’s said that cats stick their tongue out when they want to be playful or are relaxed.” Ortho casually mentions the fact as he does another scan over your body. He floats over to Idia and shows him the x-ray scan of your body.

“There’s… no bones.”

“And I don’t seen a stomach anywhere, though I am detecting lots of tunnels reaching to different places.”

“Pocket dimensions,” Idia picks you up, holding you from under your front arms. “Wehehe~ you're an ultra find, Prefect. Like an SSR+ find!” Idia gets off his bed and places you in his gamer chair.

You blink at him with your tongue still out as you relax fully into the soft leather. You watch as Idia taps a few times on his hologram keyboard, pulling up photos from your acting scenes and the x-ray scans Ortho took.

“You can still understand what I’m saying, right? You didn’t turn into just a kitty cat with a smooth brain, right?”

You huff at that and fully sit up, meowing at Idia and flicking your paw at him as if saying “get on with whatever you're gonna say”.

“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna show you what you are… because you look like a cute kitty cat, but that’s your character armor. What you really are-,” Idia motions to his monitor, showing the x-rays. “-is a fleshy alien thing that looks like a large parasite crammed into your cat-like body.”

You stare at the X-ray certain of yourself. It should be concerning really, because how the hell did you turn into that thing? Just a few hours ago you were human, and now you're some type of… alien? Parasite?

Either way you look sick as fuck.

“You don’t seem to be that freaked out,” Ortho floats over to you.

To show you weren’t that troubled by it, you opened your mouth and let out a collage of tentacles. One shoots out to grab Idia’s opened bag of chips, causing the older Shroud to yelp. You bring it back to your mouth and fully consume it, spitting the plastic bag out when you were done with it.

“… make yourself at home I guess.”

“Ah! So you do have a stomach! I can see you digesting the chips!” Ortho exclaimed excitedly.

Ortho sends the X-ray video of you digesting the chips to Idia, making it pop up on one of the monitors. You watched with curiosity. Some would find it disgusting but for you- you just thought it was interesting seeing how your new body functioned.

“Now, I hope you don’t mind if we can do some tests on you, Prefect.” Idia begins putting on his lab gear, carefully watching your reaction.

Ok. Sure. Running some tests wasn't that big of a deal. You weren’t in a rush at the moment, and you were curious about what you are.

That all changed when you saw something that looked like a needle.

Before you had time to back away, Ortho picked you up. And you started yowling, trying to get out of his hold.

“Ah! Prefect, what’s wrong?” Idia turns to see his younger brother struggling to hold you, clearly confused on what got you all fussy.

“Ortho! What happened?!”

“I don't know! They just started acting up!”

Using the wonderful power of cat physics, you're able to escape from the younger Shroud’s hold. Your first instinct was to head towards the door… unfortunately it was closed and you didn’t know how to open doors with your toe beans.

Idia slowly approaches you from behind as you try to find another escape route. Idia then takes the chance to dive down to get you, but you dodge him and begin to scurry around the room. You run from one side to the other, hopping on Idia’s bed and then to his shelf with his Action figures.

“Prefect! You're gonna get hurt!”

“MREOW!” You run across the shelf, knocking down the figurines and making Idia freak out.

“NO! Those are limited edition!” You didn’t listen to Idia’s screams as you practically knocked off every single one of his figurines. You look around trying to find a way out of his room, and that’s when you saw it-

The vent!

A tentacle shoots out from your mouth as you rip the grate off the ceiling. You cast the grate in the general direction of Idia, hearing the sound of what remains of the merchandise fall to the floor. And Idia loud pitch shriek.

You hop onto another shelf and use another tentacle to give you leverage as you swing yourself into the vent. You left Idia and Ortho alone in the room.

Take that! No needles today!

Idia just looks at the mess on his floor, not really sure where to start. Ortho just floats over and pats him on the shoulder, knowing that his older brother was mourning the loss of several of his collectibles.

Diasomnia

When you were able to escape from Idia’s clutches, you immediately went to Diasomnia.

This should have been your first pick! Horton would be happy to help you!

When you entered through the mirror you went straight to the dorm lounge room, ignoring students in the process as they stopped to stare at the fluffy cat walking the halls. Some even tried to pet you or greet you, but you were on a mission!

Being this alien cat was all fun but now, it’s best to go back to living life like a normal human.

“Strange, what’s a cat doing here?” You were ready to ignore the student like you did the others, but this one was quick enough to pick you up.

You were ready to swat at them but stopped when you recognized them. Sebek held you from under your arms as he scrutinized you. “How did you get into Diasomnia?” He asks, and all you do is meow at him.

“No matter! I heard earlier that Master Lilia and Waka-sama were looking for a fluffy cat. Perhaps they were referring to you.”

“Mrew.” Yes! Take me to Horton!

Sebek positions you into a better way where he cradles you into his arms. You start purring immediately, which causes Sebek to stutter. “C-cease your purring! I’m just taking you to Waka-sama and then I'm putting you down!”

No complaints there!

Sebek begins to walk you over to the dorm's lounge room. And you couldn’t help yourself so you started batting at his tie. A few times Sebek scolds you, but doesn't have the heart to stop you.

Oh he would lose his head if he learned it was you, the prefect.

“Ah! Sebek, my boy! You're back, and it seems like you brought a friend!” You perk up hearing Lilia’s voice.

You see Lilia and Malleus sitting on the couch in the lounge, Silver pouring them tea and himself a cup as well. Lilia’s eye practically sparkled when he saw you, vibrating on the spot with excitement.

Oh no.

He knows.

“So you found the Prefect, good work Sebek.” Malleus praises Sebek as he takes a sip of his tea.

Sebek though stopped in his tracks. He was happy to be praised by his young master! But learning that it was you that he was cradling this whole time…

He drops you without thinking.

Silver was ready to take his pen out and have you land safely on the ground, but you landed perfectly fine on all fours.

Thanks to your cat-like reflexes.

“P-prefect?! Why didn’t you say anything?!” Sebek yelled at you. You only give him a glare and start batting at his foot, basically telling him you weren’t happy for the fact he dropped you!

Lilia starts cackling watching the exchange between the two of you. When you were done with fighting Sebek’s shoe, you began your walk over to the couch where everyone seemed to be resting and hop on the coffee table.

You don’t stay there for long until Lilia scoops you in his arms, twirling you around like Kalim did. “Ah! You're just so cute now, Prefect!”

Is he saying you weren’t before?

In response to that, you place your paw on his nose, causing Lilia to laugh more. Malleus hums as he watches, Silver on the other hand was starting to doze off after he took one sip from his tea.

“How long has it been since you transformed, child of man?” Malleus asked as he placed his own teacup and saucer on the coffee table.

You try thinking about how long it’s been. It had to be no more than several hours, right? Then again, you did notice how it was getting darker in the Diasomnia dorm. Didn’t you drink that potion this morning???

“Based on your silence, it’s been a whole day.” Lilia nods to his own conclusion as you try wiggling out of his hold.

A whole day?! Nope! You gotta change NOW!

“Fear not my dear friend,” Malleus gets up from his place from the couch and makes it way over to you and Lilia. Lilia smiles as he holds you out to Malleus.

“Meow?”

“As cute as you are in this form, I would prefer to have my best friend back to normal.” And with that said Malleus places his hand on your head, letting a bright green light come from his hand.

In a blink of an eye, you turn back to normal…

With Lilia still holding you up by under your arms.

“I like to be put down now…”

“Aw, but I’m still having fun!” You let out a shriek as Lilia spins you once again. Malleus couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he watched the two of you.

Silver was fully asleep now, and Sebek only stared at his hands in horror.

“I was cradling them the whole time in their cat form…”

“Were they ever truly a cat though?” Sebek whipped his head to look at Silver who spoke in his sleep.

Nobody truly understood what you were. What you turned into it.

All they hope is that it never happens again…

“Oh gods, my stomach…” you were back in Ramshackle, laying in your bed and holding your stomach. You were feeling such immense pain after leaving Diasomnia. You did eat a lot of things today in that other form, and spitting stuff out as well.

Grim was currently pouring you a glass of Bubble Soda, and set down some crackers by your nightstand… not without swiping some first. “Mrah, Silver told me this would help you with your tummy ache. How you should still eat something along with the medication he gave.” Grim hands you the packet he got from second year.

God bless Silver. Lilia did cook horrible meals, so it made sense Silver would have these on hand.

You thanked Grim as you popped a pill into your mouth and slowly drank the soda Grim messily poured.

He tried.

“I’m really sorry about today… it’s my fault you turned into some weird cat thing…” Grim apologized awkwardly as he sat at the edge of your bed.

You let out a huff and grab the dire beast by the scruff of his neck, making him yelp in surprise as you wrap your arms around him.

“I forgive you, Grim. Don’t sweat it that much, ok? You didn’t know, and you made a mistake, it happens! So don’t beat yourself over it.”

Grim whines from your hug but lets you awayway, wrapping his paws around your neck to hug you back. You also promised yourself that night that you were going to double check everything before you consume it.

Can’t have you turning into an alien cat thing again…

Unless to torture Crowley, then you would be down to do that.

[namism]

accomplices (1) | sabo

➳ categories: canonverse, female afab reader, fake-out make-out trope, pre-dressrosa arc ➳ warnings: nsfw (making out) ➳ word count: 1.3k

➳ summary: The best way out of a dangerous scenario is to fake-pretend a make-out session to disturb the enemy. When you're cornered with the chief of the Revolutionary Army, you put that theory to the test.

➳ cross-posted on ao3

You don't know how you got yourself into this situation, but it wasn't ideal by any means.

"Chief-of-Staff, Sabo. I'm from the Revolutionary Army."

"You are Sabo? From the Revs?"

A group of voices echo from the end of the hallway. Almost immediately, you and Sabo skitter up a flight of stairs to lose track of them, eventually finding refuge in the first room your eyes land on.

With your back to the door, you heave a sigh of relief. Sabo traces the wall to find the light switch. When the room fills with light, you take a proper look at him.

"I know who you are," you say. "I've always wanted to meet the Revolutionary Army."

Blond hair, round eyes, and a black hat. With clothes fitting him loosely and a visible scar spanning the left side of his face, there's no mistaking it.

You tell him your name.

"I'm from the local guerilla. What brings you here?"

"Perhaps with similar intentions. We're here to interrupt a weapons trade," he explains. Your kingdom is a major transport route for a shady underground business, but no one has ever cracked the root of the problem. Some say the weapons they vend lead to an island in the New World, but you have yet to figure it out—as far as you're concerned, the trade has to end.

Suddenly, the door behind you shakes.

"Who locked the fucking conference room?"

The next thing you hear is the tinkling of metal keys. Eyes wide with fear, you watch the doorknob rattle with bated breath. Sabo looks around hurriedly and points to his left.

"In there!"

You follow him to the far end of the room, where a wooden door stands ajar. Sabo pushes it open and lets you slip inside before sneaking in and locking it with haste.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listen to the voices that filter from the outside.

"God forbid those revolutionaries lay a finger on the Big Boss."

It's an excruciatingly long conversation. You learn many things that you aren't supposed to, leads that you wouldn't have known if you didn't trap yourself in enemy territory. Apparently, the local syndicate had intel on the Revolutionary Army's arrival and were planning an escape route the day prior, but an informant from the Dressrosa Kingdom apprised them to stay still. And because of that, you're here.

"What's that noise?"

And because you're here, you're about to be discovered.

"Somebody else is in this room."

"They've figured us out," Sabo states the obvious in a volume not above a whisper. Your breath catches in your throat. Fuck. Were your thoughts so loud that you gave your hiding spot away? How do you escape?

You have locked yourselves in a small windowless room. There's a chair, a desk, and some file cabinets that line the back wall. Sabo is equally muddled beside you, and you notice him drumming his fingers anxiously on his side. You assume he's figured out the issue—the space is too small to use your powers, too small to hide yourselves.

Breath ragged, an idea crosses your mind.

"How old are you?"

He blinks.

"Twenty-two."

With that, Sabo watches your hands fly up to your hair, tossing your locks all over until they're messy. Strange, he thinks, but it only gets stranger as you finger the top buttons of your blouse, popping the first few open to reveal just enough skin. A little more and it would reveal your cleavage, and it's an observation that drives his perverted little brain mad.

"You got a girlfriend?" you ask soon afterward, and, uh, yeah, Sabo is definitely a pervert, and he's definitely mad. You slip your fingers in between the thin threads of your corset, tugging the top strings loose but not too loose, allowing your chest to breathe within the confinements of the garment. He's speechless. "Sabo. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm single," he answers abruptly, then watches you hitch your skirt past your thighs. He stirs.

Shaking his head, he presses his ear back to the door.

"The file room. Did you lock the file room?"

"We should plan an attack while we still can," he whispers. He peers down at you, but he sees your cleavage peeking past your unbuttoned top, and at that moment, his cheeks burn bright red. "What are you doing?"

"Our options are limited," you hiss. "We're trapped. Undo your buttons and stay still."

"Stay sti— what?" You stand on your tip toes and reach for his hair. Sabo is confused, but he leans forward, presses his body close to yours, and allows you to make a mess of his blond head under his hat. When you pull back, your hands fly to his shirt, unbuttoning the top buttons before encircling his neck with your arms. He stirs again. And just like that, he understands.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but he doesn't stop you. He gets it. He understands now.

Sabo doesn't read a lot, but from the few books he'd come across in his life—those romance novels that somehow made their way to the RA's library—he'd learned one thing or two about espionage. He'd also learned about sex and how you can use it to get away with just about anything on a spy mission. And even though he can't do that with you here, he knows exactly how you intend on escaping.

And quite honestly, he supports the idea.

"Come closer," he says, but he doesn't give you a chance because he pulls you into him before you can move. As you melt into his body, Sabo dips his head low and kisses you, tilting his head for extra effect while you play with the back of his shirt. He sighs into your lips.

Fuck.

He really supports the idea.

"If we're doing this, I can move you like this."

Sabo repositions you so quickly that it knocks the wind out of you. You're on top of the desk before you know it, your weight supported by his grip as he practically leans into you and situates himself in between your legs. He kisses you with intent, his lips in full control over yours with every breathless moment overflowing with enthusiasm. Even then, you let him. You allow much of the attention on your lips as you straighten your thoughts, plotting the perfect course of action to escape your enclosure once the door is opened and the enemy deeply disturbed.

But Sabo is too good at what he does. His skin burns hot as he maneuvers even closer to get the most out of the pressing situation. He's a good kisser, somehow reminiscent of the best ones you've had, but he outshines all the others by far.

Tracing his collar, your hands find their way to his unbuttoned top, where they slip underneath the fabric to locate his collarbones. But suddenly, the door shakes again. While it startles you, Sabo kisses you harder and needier than need be. You're nearly breathless.

Your hands fly to his biceps. "Sa"—you moan in between a kiss—"Sabo."

His fingers glide across your waist. "Hm?"

"Give me some space to move," you mutter. "I have a plan. For later."

As he shuffles out between your legs, his lips fly to your jaw. He nibbles at your skin and moves his hands farther up your blouse, eventually restraining himself when he's gone far up your corset. The door shakes another time. Hurriedly, you scoot off the edge of the table and wait with bated breath.

When the door opens, light instantly floods the room. You bury your face into Sabo's shoulder, shielding your faces with his hat. Gasps erupt from the conference room as they witness your scandalous display, but you take advantage of their surprise and hop into action.

You jump off the table and launch yourself back into the main room, using your Haki to force yourself past the men that stand before you. Sabo follows suit, but not before he fixes himself bashfully. With hot skin and a flushed face, he races into battle and does what has to be done.

He doesn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the day.

[fayes-fics]

Rebel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You only wanted a quiet refuge away from the ball, you got a lot more than that…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, rake!Anthony, innocent!reader, frottage incl. clit stimulation through clothing, female and male orgasms.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: For all the Anthony fans, sorry it's been so long since I posted a fic for him alone. I don't recall where this idea originated from other than my wanting to do a trapped-together trope for him. It turned out sweeter than I expected tbh. Thanks to @colettebronte for an awesome betaing, as always. Enjoy! <3

You are grateful to find a little oasis of calm. A small storage room that is cool, dark and quiet—a world away from the loud, stuffy ballroom. The perfect hideout from the undesirable whirlwind of your first-ever society event, escaping your aunt’s clutches at an opportune moment as she was detained by a verbose member of the Ton. Slumped against the wall, shoes removed, and eyes closed, you finally find a calm reverie, your flushed skin cooling….

Until that is, your refuge is rudely invaded.

There is a shaft of almost blinding light and then a whirlwind of movement. The door makes an odd clicking noise as it is practically slammed shut again. 

And then a deep, wracked sigh that is decidedly male.

All of your serenity evaporates, a prickle over your skin at the realisation you are not alone. In fact, you are unchaperoned in a darkened room with an unknown man. 

Fretting for a few moments, you know it's impossible to slip past him unnoticed. So you hope you can stay quiet enough and pray he will leave again shortly. Perhaps it's the darkness that heightens his hearing; maybe it's that you are unable to silence your breathing sufficiently in such a small room, but your hope is instantly dashed.

“Who is there?” his voice rings out loudly, and you wince, knowing it's probably pointless to stay silent but seemingly unwilling to speak.

There is the rasp of a match being struck, and then a tiny flame appears to illuminate the lines of a face. It looks youthful, handsome, well-bred… and very annoyed.

“What in God’s name are you doing in here? And who are you?” He questions as he swings the flame around, looking for a sconce to light, making a quiet sound of victory as he locates one near the door.

“I…I came to escape.” Your confession is easier with his back turned as he lights the fixture. “I'm Miss y/l/n. And you are?”  

He guffaws as he faces you again. “Hah …”

“Did I say something amusing?” you squint slightly as you adjust to the light after considerable minutes alone in the dark.

“I believe you did...” he chuckles, bemused that you do not instantly recognise him. “Well, ‘tis of little consequence,” he sniffs, “as this is occupied, I shall bid you adieu and find a different private space….”

It appears he was looking for escape as much as you. But, what he probably hoped would be his parting words, accompanied as they are by a brusque nod, turn out to be anything but. 

The polished brass door knob spins in his grip, but the door does not relent, staying firmly within its frame. He tries a few more times before huffing and starting to rattle it more insistently. Then, beginning to lean into the door with his weight as if hoping that would shift it.

The door opens inward, idiot… you roll your eyes unseen, assuming the man is playing a prank at first. But the more he repeats the same move, each a shade more frantic than the last, the more you realise it is perhaps not a comedic bit.

“We are stuck?!” You check, indignance flaring. The door was just fine before he got here.

“It would appear so, Miss,” not pausing in his actions as he answers, a curl of hair flopping rather fetchingly over his forehead.

You start to pace back and forth, only a few steps possible in the small room, but an overwhelming need to move to dissipate the nerves creeping up your spine.

“Well, bang on the door then!” you gesticulate, forgetting any manners in your growing disquiet.

“Outspoken...” he pauses to mutter under his breath, but it’s begrudging respect more than chastisement. He starts to do exactly as you suggest: pound his fist on the door and call out for anyone. He presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear an approach. When there appears to be none, he repeats. “You could help, you know…” he throws out pointedly, side-eyeing you.

“Tis not becoming of a lady…” you counter sarcastically.

“Neither is ordering me around, but you seemed to have no issue in that regard,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow that calls your bluff and has you springing to his aid.

With both of you thumping on the door, you hope discovery is imminent, but after a few attempts, no one comes to assist. 

“Urghh! The ball is likely too loud, and this corridor too seldom visited,” you surmise.

“Most likely,” he concedes, a flash of what looks like admiration flitting across his features. “Perhaps we will need to remain in here until the ball is quieter.”

“That could be hours; my aunt will wonder where I am,” you slump your head into your hands before moving to pace again.

“Then maybe she will dispatch a search party. You are not the first debutante to hide in a storage closet, believe me. This may well be the first place they come looking.”

“Not exactly ideal, or did you forget it would be a scandal if we are found here together?!” you point out tartly.

Again, there is a flash of something over his face, as if he enjoys it when you behave the very opposite of polite.

“Of course, I did not,” he gruffs, then softens his countenance. “I shall conceal myself in that alcove behind the door,” he gestures to the corner where, indeed, there is an almost hidden indent in the wall. “Your search party shall be none the wiser. I can make my escape once the coast is clear.”

His suggestion immediately assuages you, believing the sincerity in his tone. There is a beat as you both nod to each other as if sealing this pact.

“You still have not told me your name…” a need to know it after this gentlemanly gesture.

“You honestly do not know?” prompting an attractive furrow between his eyebrows.

“No. This is my first ball. I am here at the behest of my maternal aunt. I have no earthly idea who most of these people are,” you huff, gesturing towards the jammed door.

“Some may argue lucky for you….” his response laced with amusement before he squares his shoulders to continue. “Bridgerton. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Oh…”

If there is one name your cousin has warned you about before tonight, it's the Bridgerton brothers. All handsome, rich, intelligent… and very unlikely to take a wife. It would be wiser to howl at the moon than expect the pursuit of a Bridgerton—her stark words of warning echoing in your mind as you sense him observing you curiously. Your response is obviously not what he expected, that forehead crease reappearing. 

“Oh?” he mimics. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“I am… aware of your family…” You confess, unsure what else to say.

“It does not sound a pleasant recollection,” he astutely surmises. “Am I to assume my family has done yours some harm?”

“No!” you reply quickly. “Nothing of that nature…”.

“Then what?... Out with it!” a mild irritation rising as you hesitate.

“My cousin warned me about the Bridgerton brothers,” you blurt out.

He barks a brief laugh but takes a step closer, his stance relaxing and gaining a swagger.

“Oh, did she now?” his voice changed; deeper, smokier, firing something in your belly.

“Yes…” it's your turn to square your shoulders, crossing your arms defensively for good measure. The trouble is, it just draws attention to your breasts. You don't miss the way his eyes flick down briefly.

“What did she tell you?” he seems to move inexorably closer, dark eyes sparkling in the low candlelight.

“That I should not seek a dance with you,” you admit, seemingly unable to avoid answering this man truthfully.

“And why might that be?” his cadence almost a rumble now.

“You are not marriage material.”

“And is that what you want? Marriage?” Skillfully deflecting an admission it’s true.

“It’s what’s expected of me. What I may or may not want is irrelevant,” you sniff.

“What a pity. I think what you truly want may be something far more… interesting,” Anthony’s tone is like velvet as he draws closer, towering over you. Your body responds almost against your will, a flush running down your torso, a tingle in your arms.

“Irrelevant,” you repeat, as you defiantly glare up at him, heartbeat racing.

“Is it…?”

He seems to know you want this precisely because it's what you should not be doing. The tempting taste of rebellion wrapped up in a handsome face.

A warm hand rounds your elbow, and his lips suddenly brush your ear.  “Also, it seems unfair to condemn me a rake based on the words of another, does it not? Should a man not get the chance to defend himself? Surely you are of sound enough mind to draw your own conclusions?” 

The irony of attempting to defend himself against the accusation while acting the archetypal rake is not lost on you, even as you fight every twitch in your body, a want to grab and be grabbed, almost an itch on your skin.

“Your current actions, my lord, do not exactly dispute her assessment,” you counter boldly, pleased you can tamp the waver in your voice.

His laugh is a warm gust down your neck that makes you shiver.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, “and yet… here you still are…” 

You can’t argue with that. You could indeed easily move away, his hold on your elbow symbolic…. No, it’s that you most definitely don’t want to.

“You are a rake,” you murmur, even as your lips brush his cheekbone.

“And you like it…” he breathes raggedly, skittering across your skin as your heart pounds in your ears.

God, if that isn’t the truth.

“Do I?” you sass and pull back a few inches.

Anthony’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash. The pluckier you get, the more it riles him up and reels him in.

“There is something you could teach all the other debutantes out there,” he tilts his head to one side and reaches for the dance card tied to your wrist, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Enlighten me…”

“That a feisty young woman is far more attractive than a demure, meek girl,” he breathes, a finger now tracing the ribbon on the card, lingering on the delicate skin of your wrist.

“So you can domesticate a free spirit?” you sneer disapprovingly.

“Oh no, no. The very opposite. To let her run wild…” his fingers trail up your forearm, causing goosebumps in their wake, your breath quickening. Then he leans in, his lips by your ear again, breath hot “....and hang on tight because that will be the ride of your damn life.”

“Rake,” you murmur.

“Rebel,” he rumbles in return, goading.

Exhilaration makes you turn a fraction into his cheek, and it’s the permission he needs, moving to capture your lips with his. 

Fireworks explode in your body as, for the first time, a man kisses you. And not just a peck. No, it's a soft, sensual dance at first, his lips warm and wet, opening yours and inviting you to take it further. And you do. Grab his jacket sleeves, feeling the muscular outline of his biceps underneath as his hands move to grasp your waist and haul you against his body. The kiss turns hot and electric, his tongue entwining with yours, you following his motions, a flash of heat spiking through you as if struck by some powerful force. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, both of you breathing hard and staring at each other. 

“Tell me to stop…” he challenges, but everything in his demeanour tells you it's the opposite of what he wants. And it's definitely not what you want.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

There is a noise, male, hungry, utterly arousing, and then he is back on you. Kissing like wildfire and walking you backwards against the wall, velour wallpaper tickling the skin of your shoulders where your dress scoops lower. His hands are hot through the thin silk of your gown, grasping your waist and pulling you into him. His mouth tastes of whiskey, a hint of smoke and something earthy that is sinful.

“What do you want to know?” he asks teasingly, his mouth ghosting over yours. “Do you wish to know a man’s body, to know pleasure, or possibly both?” 

Each option sounds wonderful, tempting, perfect even. But there is one that trips from your tongue.

“Pleasure,” you answer greedily, feeling selfish to continue chasing this fizzing effervescence you have inside, both sweeter and tarter than any champagne.

“Mmm, I thought you might say that,” he chuckles, nuzzling your cheek. 

“Next question. And I shall offer no clues as to what this might mean if you do not know already…. But do you want…” he pauses to swipe his tongue sinfully into your mouth, “tongue…” he breathes, pulling away a fraction, “or…” his hand cups your chin, then two fingers push between your lips, an earthy, smoky taste from holding cigars now lingering on your tongue, “...fingers.”

Instinctively, you close your mouth around the invading digits and suckle lightly, his eyes flaring, and a groan catches in his throat.

1“Good god, I wish you had said you want to know a man….”

You have no idea what he might be referring to, but you can't resist suckling harder on his fingertips, feeling wanton but enjoying the power you seem to hold over him in this moment, his entire dazzling focus on you.

“You did not answer my question, y/n,” he scolds gently, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth and trailing your saliva over your own throat.

“Whatever you will,” you breathe, already missing him in your mouth as his fingers trail lower, leaving a dampness over the swell of your breast that makes your breath quicken.

His lips are back on yours, demanding, plundering kisses that have you wanting more. So much more. As he pulls away, his lips are red and damp, and his dark eyes intense, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Perhaps my fingers are best, for this circumstance at least,” he opines, sounding a touch reluctant, “less incriminating should we be swiftly interrupted…”

Part of you wishes there was some furniture you could push against the door so no one could disturb you, let him do whatever - everything - he wants. Because if it makes you feel anything like what you do now, you’d know you would allow it, consequences and propriety be damned.

“Pull up your dress,” he orders lowly, his lips on your cheek.

He makes a tiny noise of approval as you put your hands at your hips and grab handfuls of your dress and chemise until the hem is high above your knees, looping the fabric over your forearms, the air cool on your thighs. He drops a little soft kiss upon the shell of your ear as if to reward your obedience.

But then you gasp as suddenly his hand slides down your front and cups between your legs, so much heat through the thin layer of your silk undergarment. He makes an approving noise, apparently liking what he finds, pulling your earlobe into his mouth and grazing it softly with his teeth. Two of his fingers drag achingly slowly against the soft material. Your skin seems as if it could vibrate straight off your body and you cling to him, eyes going wide at the intensity from just a light touch.

“So perfectly responsive”, he gusts. “I almost forgot how very beguiling an innocent can be… and such a keen one at that.”

You can tell from his inflexion it's intended as a compliment; he seems so very charmed by your willingness. And you are so very eager for him, for the sensations he is wringing from your body never to cease. As those fingers keep stroking, your mouth is slack, and you press your breasts into him, wanting no inch of your body away from his. His lips are hot on your cheekbone, the other arm caged around you. 

He doesn't make any move to discard your underwear. Instead, he just keeps stroking over a spot between your legs that is rapidly swelling under his touch, viscous warm liquid leaking into the silky material and seeping through onto his fingers.

“Perfect,” he growls and moves faster.

“It feels so different…” you gulp, then clarify, “...to when I touch myself.”

He inhales sharply, his eyes flashing dark, and his fingers curl more insistent against your nub.

“You do this to yourself? An innocent?” He looks unbridled now with both admiration and lust.

You just nod, biting your lip.

“My perfect little rebel….” he lauds.

He is huffing into your hairline now, scenting you as you writhe instinctually on his questing fingers. Someone else’s touch is a magnified experience of what you have done alone before. This is wholly other: another human with you in this moment, him panting with desire, his body heat seeping through clothing, his fingers calloused in a way that catches perfectly on your swollen flesh as his resonant voice and smoky mint breath pleads with you not to stop. 

Grabbing onto his lapel, needing an anchor, you stare up into his deep brown eyes, the look on his face utterly triumphal, his lips lowering to cover yours, breathing each other’s air. Something hard pressing into your hip bone as you ride boldly upon his fingers now. A shiver runs up your spine at how good this is, little sparks firing from the pinpoint of pleasure between your legs. The coiled spring of desire is so much more profound with him, a delicious tension in your whole being. He keeps muttering low words of praise of how well you are doing, and how beautiful you look. Your skin flushes with arousal and exertion, and a bead of wetness runs down your inner thigh just as you are climbing to that point of no return. 

Suddenly, he withdraws his touch, your responding whine trailing off as his fingers swipe through that trickle of moisture. Then you stare transfixed as he brings it up to his mouth and sucks the dewiness from his fingertips, a hungry noise hitching in his throat as he does. It makes you desperate for him, for this. To reach that pinnacle with him. A burning want to do it time and time again. To find your pleasure with him, for him. To experience everything that can happen between a man and a woman.

“I want to know a man too,” you exhale unevenly, not able to censor your wayward thoughts, your abandoned clit throbbing hard in your soaked underwear.

He groans, the vibration of it quaking through him and that hand now cups your jaw. “By god, you will,” he asserts roughly, and you can smell traces of your arousal on his fingers as he leans in and kisses you deeply, the flavour of it tart on his tongue.

“Please touch me again…” your voice a broken plea.

His smile is devilish handsomeness personified, as he does just as you ask. You cry out over his lips as he expertly swipes over that spot again, rubbing even faster now. Rocketing you right back to the point where you have to cling to him, your knees buckling.

His other hand snakes around your body and grabs your breast through your dress. It makes you groan loudly, a yearning for him to strip off the layers, rip away your stays and snag your pebbled nipple between his teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he demands hotly, and you realise your face must give away something of your licentious wishes.

“I want your mouth on my breasts,” you confess the truth raggedly, riding his fingers again, whimpering and moaning with each expert flick of his fingers.

He growls, more untamed creature than man, and he pinches you through the layers, seemingly knowing exactly where your nipple is. The sensation, even though dulled through cotton and silk, makes you shudder and call out loudly. To the point he hushes you, deciding next to swallow your cries with kisses. Stealing your breath with his tongue as his fingers swirl in a rough circle between your legs, a drag that is so delicious, it hurls you right over the edge you skate and into oblivion.

Your whole body convulses, him pressing you into the wall to stay upright, your lungs tight as you scream your release into his mouth, vision swimming, a complete fuzziness as you float away. Nothing like you have experiences alone, a hundred times more visceral, carnal—utterly addictive.

As you return to the room, he is rutting himself against your hip bone, a solid mass between his legs. The feral nature of his movements awakens something in you, and you grasp his neck and pull him down to your lips.

“Do it,” you challenge through gritted teeth. 

Wanting him to reach his peak as much as you just have. Not yet understanding fully what is happening, but everything between your legs clenching and aching for something you can't articulate as he follows your bidding and ruts himself against you furiously now, grunting. You kiss him with ferocity and reach around to grab his shapely rear to encourage his movements. 

That’s the catalyst he needs, and, with an almost howl, he stills, pressed harshly into you, his face contorted, slack-jawed, and you feel a bloom of warmth through the wool of his trousers.

There are no words spoken for a few moments, just harsh breathing, the air heavy with the tang of sex. Then he moves to cup your face tenderly, closing his eyes and tilting his forehead on yours.

“Good god,” he sounds gravelly, sated, floored. “I….”

But he is interrupted by the sound of the door handle being jiggled violently, making you both spring apart lightning fast, clothing being rapidly rearranged. The door finally relents, and a footman’s face appears in the crack. He likely can surmise, and perhaps indeed scent, what has just transpired. 

“I wondered where you had got to, Sir,” he clears his throat, “but then I was passing by and knew this had to be you,” a barely contained smirk suggesting he could well have been guarding the door for a while.

“Jenkins!” Anthony’s relief is palpable. 

“The carriage, Sir, I presume?” he offers pointedly.

“Yes, please,” Anthony nods. As the man disappears, leaving the door ajar, Anthony’s hand slips into yours. Then, in a tone that brokers no argument - not that you have an ounce of interest in doing so - he declares, “You, my delicious little rebel, are coming with me….” 

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[taesanluv3r]

just a sleepless night.

han taesan x reader

a sleepless night w taesan & yn, making up scenarios, taesan has baby fever lol thought of this while reading through taesan's weverse replies last night <3 lowercase is intended. pls ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes! enjoyy

wc: 1,174

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"psst...hey...darling, you awake?"

yn ln shifts under the covers, turning over to face the boy who was whispering into her ear. "yeah...what's up?" she asks, voice just as quiet. "nothing...i just can't sleep, and since you're moving around so much i just assumed you couldn't either" han taesan says, smiling softly as his girlfriend's face came into view, her features clear to his eyes thanks to the hint of light that escaped from the crack of her bathroom door - she couldn't sleep in full darkness, not that she could sleep right now anyways.

yn hummed, scooting closer to him. "yeah...can't sleep...what should we do?" she asks, a hand reaching out to stroke the blonde-ish strands out of his face. "we could just...talk? i don't know" taesan's voice is breathy, with a slight rasp - being that they were so late into the night. "yeah, let's do that" she replied, her fingers still dancing in his hair. "what do you want to talk about, sanie?"

the boy grunted slightly as he moved to lay fully on his back, prompting her to do the same just centimeters beside him. they stared up at the ceiling now, unconsciously giggling at the unevenly placed glow in the dark stars that scattered against it.

"why do you even have these stars up? they barely glow" he says, head tilting to the side, pressing up against hers. "i begged my dad to put them up there when i was like six years old...i just can't reach high enough to take them down" her eyes glisten with the fondness of her childhood memories, dimples seeping into her skin as she smiled.

"were you always afraid of the dark?" taesan moved again, laying on his side to face her; she still laid on her back. yn nods, "mhm...it was worse as a kid though...my parents took turns staying with me till i fell asleep so i wouldn't be scared" the boy sighs, "and now i'm the one doing that for you" she rolls her eyes, "hey, you're only staying over here because my parents are gone for a week, okay?!" she scoffs, jokingly slapping his chest. "otherwise i wouldn't have to be sharing my bed with a giant like you" - "well you wouldn't be if you weren't so scared of being alone!"

silence took over for a moment.

"later...in the future, when we have a daughter..." the boy starts, prolonging his words out of sudden shyness. "mhm..." the girl follows, turning her gaze towards him and signalling for him to continue. "...i wonder what she'll be like..." he trails off, head going to space. yn giggles, "nothing like when you were a kid, i hope".

taesan shoots her a nasty glare, one she could only sort of see with the lack of a brighter light present. "but you know what they say, darling...the daughter is always the most similar to her dad" his voice is shaky as he speaks while stretching his arms out, wrapping them around her body and pulling her towards his chest. "that's true...i mean i'm practically just a mini version of my dad...shit...still, hope she's less of a handful than you were, though" the boy laughs, pressing a kiss to the girl's head. she smiles at him, drawing mindless shapes against the thin cloth of his t-shirt.

"any name ideas? you know, for our beloved daughter" he raised an eyebrow, and she nods enthusiastically - well, as enthusiastic as she could be at this hour. "i really love the name vivienne" taesan's eyes sparkled, "oh, i like that...han vivienne..." yn blushed at his words. she's imagined all kinds of stuff like this before, but the fact that he was just as into it as she were made her stomach turn and heart pound out of her chest.

"you okay?" the boy's sudden inquiry takes her by surprise. "yeah, why?" he just smirks, leaning over so that his eyes were leveled with her own. "nothing...i just, i could feel your heart beating just now...is it this conversation? does it make your heart race?" something about the way he spoke; so taunting, yet there was a hint of genuine concern laced within his teasing tone. yn gulps, "yeah, honestly..." she pauses, thinking of what to say, but he speaks for her.

"yeah, me too"

taesan laid on his back again for the nth time, scratching the back of his head before it made contact with her soft pillow. "i can't wait to meet our daughter...our vivienne...hope she looks like me" yn laughed at the excitement evident in his complexion as she moved to lay against his chest again. "it'd be kind of weird if she didn't look like you, sanie...i mean you are her father" he chuckles, nodding his head in agreement.

"we won't be meeting her any time soon, though...so don't get your hopes up - we can wait till after i finish uni...maybe" he pouts, "what do you mean maybe? do you not want to have a little family with me?" she rolls her eyes at his dramatics, playfully pinching his nose the way her mother used to when she was a kid. "ow! that hurt" taesan whines and it makes her wonder, why on earth she was dating a giant baby?

"you're so mean to me, darling...can't you kiss the pain away?" the boy has on a wide smirk now, laughing at the look of disbelief on her face. "you're so annoying...how do you expect to have a kid when you still act like one?" he rolls his eyes, pulling her up and closer by her waist. "i promise to stop if you kiss me"

who was she to say no to that?

the girl leans in, her lips crashing softly onto his. the boy's hands roam around her back, scrunching up the fabric of her t-shirt. they parted for a second, just to catch their breaths. "you promise to stay with me, right? till the day we get married, till the day we meet our vivienne?" she's confused as to why he was getting so incredibly sappy and loving at the moment, but she would be lying if she said she didn't like it. "hurry up and promise me, i need to know before we start kissing again" he whines, hands remaining stationed on her hips. she smiles, "i promise"

han taesan grins with his teeth and all, pulling her back into his embrace as their mouths looked for each other's. the silence of the room at this hour was replaced by the happy sighs that escaped from their kiss. they were happy to be here, they were glad they couldn't sleep that night. as the kiss got deeper and more passionate, yn ln suddenly lets go with her eyebrows furrowed.

"what's wrong, darling?" he asked, seriously worried. she just shook her head, giggling softly. "nothing...it's just..." she trails off, amused by the horrified look on his face.

"what if we end up having a son?"

...

"let's just hope we don't cause that kid's definitely gonna be a handful"

the end.

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i want girl dad taesan 💔💔💔💔💔 im not ready for taesan & hakie content w kids again im too unwell and crazy for that 💔💔💔 anyways i hope u liked this fic <3 love u always pls send reqs bcs idk what to write anymore 😭 love, kona.

[sugurusfavemonkey]

say you'll be my darlin' - kento nanami (2/2)

*image: soshiu_pasu*

valentine's day special summary: kento just made you not only his valentine but also his girlfriend (this is where the pure and unadulterated smut comes in - minors do not interact) part 1/2

Kento's plan had only encompassed providing you with a memorable Valentine's day and, perhaps, building a foundation for a relationship with you in the near future. Yet, somehow, he had gone and gotten himself a girlfriend.

The term felt so juvenile, yet he couldn't care less because he felt young. The knowledge that you were just as enraptured created a bubble of blissful elation Nanami had no intention of bursting.

He had piled up the plates and was in the process of standing up, having just pushed his chair from underneath the table when you sprung up from your seat, startling the poor man.

"The restroom is-" he tried to direct you as you made your way around the table, assuming you wanted to use the toilette, but you hushed Nanami by wedging yourself between him and the table. "Sweetheart?" the way he looked up at you in question nearly had you losing your nerve.

You steeled yourself though, swallowing hard and placing your hands on his shoulders. Kento, for all his puzzlement, opened up his knees to make space for you in between his legs but remained otherwise neutral. The way his jaw clenched and hands flexed on his thighs wasn't lost on you, bless his heart.

"I want to show my appreciation to you. May I?" you spoke quietly into the otherwise silent room.

He wetted his dry lips with his tongue and your eyes immediately dropped to follow the brief gesture before mirroring it while he searched your face with a weighted gaze, "we haven't even had dessert yet."

"I have the dessert I want right here, Kento." You slapped yourself in the back for the quick comeback and the hitch it elicited in Kento's breath.

"I don't want to be disrespectful-"

"You've been a perfect gentleman all night. Hell! All your life, I'd bet," you stopped him before he took the blame for your forwardness. "Tell me I'm moving too fast and I'll stop."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" Kento smiled gently up at you. The position you put yourself in rendered both of you vulnerable in different ways and you cherished how he so easily entrusted you with seeing this side of him.

"Hmm…" you shook your head, "consent goes both ways."

"I adore how thoughtful you are, my love."

You're unsure if it's the pet name or the intensity behind his gaze, but a shiver ran down your spine.

"I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. This dinner, the flowers… they don't require any retribution," Kento assured you once more, insistent, but you knew he was merely making sure to give you an out in case that's what you wanted.

"I know that. But I want to," you assured him, hopefully conveying just how much you meant the words with your eyes as well. "Consider it my gift to you. I am your Valentine too after all, am I not?"

You didn't give him a chance to answer before you sat on his lap, each of your legs wrapping around his waist. At first, Kento hesitated, his hands hovering awkwardly until they found your hips and slowly glided up to settle on your waist.

You leaned closer until your breaths mingled together and your head spun dangerously with his aromatic fragrance taking over your senses. Nanami is the one who closed the space between you, eyes falling shut as your lips connected.

It's nothing more than a peck, full of unspoken feelings and repressed longing. The air feels charged with tension, your heart pulsing loudly in your ears, temperature running hot at the sheer brush of his warm lips to yours.

He nudged your nose with his before giving you another peck. And another. And then pressing for a bit longer, more intensely, tilting his head so his lips fit better with yours. You let your hands follow the natural curve of his shoulder, one sliding down his back and the other finding its way into the buzzed hair on the back of his head.

With the first brush of his tongue, you were ruined. You opened up to him like a blooming flower. Your entire body tingled pleasantly as he let himself consume you and you let yourself be consumed. Warm muscle exploring and mapping out your mouth sensually.

Nanami felt as if a dam was breaking as he poured the yearning from every moment he had spent craving you into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist until you were sure he had left fingerprints on your skin. You pressed yourself even closer, moaning into the kiss when that did nothing to relieve the ache you felt, your teeth briskly clashing together in your haste.

You only separated when the need for air became too much to bear, a string of spit still connecting your lips.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Kento gasped.

"I think I do." You chirped teasingly as you ground yourself down on his lap, feeling a distinct hardness pressing into your covered center.

"Fuck." That night was full of firsts because you're absolutely certain you had never heard Kento cuss before. "Don't do that," he warned you, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Or what?" You challenged with a giggle as you did the exact opposite, pressing yourself down on him once more. Whimpering at the silver of pleasure it gave you, a teaser of what was to come.

Kento almost growled your name, his breath labored, red blossoming from his exposed upper chest and neck. He gave you no indication before he pushed the dirty dishes further up the table and picked you up with ease, laying you on the table in front of him and leaning over your sprawled form, his body slotted between your spread thighs ad he kissed you again with even more fervor.

Or that, you guessed.

His lips drifted down to your jaw and then to your neck, kissing and biting at the skin, all while rutting into you rhythmically. His ministration had you gasping for air, your head lolling back to the table. You whined pitifully when he abruptly detached himself from you.

"Sit up for me, love" He commanded. And you obeyed… How could you not when you had Kento Nanami in between your legs? His fingers held onto the hem of your top, giving it a few impish tugs, "may I?"

You nodded, wordlessly lifting your arms to aid him in removing the offending cloth. His eyes fell to your cleavage and his mouth fell open, pupils taking over until you could barely see his iris. You used his distraction to remove your bra, throwing it aside the same he had done to your top. Kento let out a guttural sound, something feral from deep within as his hands softly caressed your breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he huffed before he leaned down, pushing you back on the table surface with another kiss. You heard the crashing sound of some dish falling to the ground but neither of you paid it any mind, too absorbed in each other. His lips drifted down to your jaw and then to your neck, kissing and biting at the skin, all while rutting into you rhythmically. Kento's ministration had you gasping for air, your head lolling back to the table.

"K-Kento!"

"Yes, love?" you felt his chest vibrating with his low croon against your skin.

"Please," your fingers searched for purchase on the cotton of his shirt fruitlessly, you feared your nails could have even ripped the material in your desperate pursuit.

"What do you need? Tell me." Nanami had his hands on your chest, massaging the skin nimbly.

"Touch me," you were very close to just begging for it.

"Hmm, but I am touching you."

You rolled your eyes in both pleasure in exasperation, unsurprised his matter-of-fact manners came out even then.

"For f-fuck's sake. Don't- ah," he pinched one of your nipples. "Don't make me spell it out, Ken."

"Right here?" He questioned as he squeezed your tit. "Or maybe here?" The palm of one hand pressed to your covered mound as his middle and ring fingers found your clit even through your clothes and pressed down hard. You moaned.

"Yes! Yes, right there! Please!"

"How could I ever deny you when you beg so sweetly?"

His finger moved to your pants, teasing the button as he searched your face for permission. You huffed a breathy "yes", nodding wildly.

With your consent, Kento unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, pulling them down as he let himself fall to his knees in front of you. Right where he belonged, he thought to himself. He removed both of your shoes, hands stopping to massage your heels before your pants were off. Kento held your leg by your ankle, dropping a few kisses to your calf before setting it down and making space between your legs by pushing your thighs apart.

You lifted yourself on your elbows to peer down at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"I thought I was the one showing my appreciation?"

"What if I want to show my appreciation as well?"

"You already," Kento kissed up the supple skin of your thighs making your voice tremble. "Hmm, you already did. It's my turn."

"Then let me have this. Worshipping you is the greatest pleasure you could bestow me, love."

"Kento! I-" He bit down on your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him the most, "Ah! Fuck! That's n-not fair."

He nuzzled at your pussy through the soaked lace of your flimsy panties, fingers wrapping around each of your legs to keep them open when the sudden touch had you trying to squeeze them together, "did you wear these for me?"

"Just for you, Kento. All for you," you sighed.

"Look at you. So pretty. So wet too," he murmured contently, his eyes locked on the wet patch on your underwear, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin with each word.

Your hand found its way into his hair, nails brushing his scalp when he finally dared to lick a stripe over the thong, a pointer finger sliding it to the side before doing it again.

Kento outwardly moaned when he tasted your slickness on his tongue, "you taste divine, my love. So much better than I imagined."

You wanted to tease him, question how many times he pictured that scenario, just how often he touched himself to the thought of you, but you could only cry out as he slid his tongue through your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking over your clit and your finger tangle in the strands of his hair.

You whimpered at the wet heat of his mouth on you. It felt like he was trying to devour you, pussy first. His tongue alternated between flicking over your clit playfully and running along your folds. It made you moan as you ground your hips upward. His tongue finally relented its attack on your clit., thrusting deeper into your heat. Nanami groaned, loving the feeling as you tugged on his hair to push his face deeper into your cunt. His cock twitched in his pants, precum probably staining through his briefs and pants.

"Fuck, Ken. Feels so good," you panted.

Nanami glanced up to meet your lidded eyes. The sight of your flushed cheeks had him moaning into your pussy, his hips thrusting helplessly in the air at the same time you jerked your hips. He stopped momentarily and snaked an arm up, pointer and middle fingers breaching through your parted lips and pressing down on your tongue, "wet them for me, love."

You clamped your lips around his fingers promptly, sucking in your cheeks as your tongue twirled around them until there was drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.

Kento pecked your lower lips without breaking the eye contact, "such a good girl."

His praise went straight to your cunt, creating even more slick. You could feel a puddle forming on the table underneath you with how wet you were.

His hand slid from your mouth, down your jaw and followed the curve of your neck only to pause briefly to grope your tit and give your nipple a firm tug before continuing on his trajectory down your body, the heel of his palm pressing firmly to your lower stomach just as his lips attached themselves to your cunt again. You kept making small sounds through it all, breath hitching with each of the breaks he took in the path.

Nanami used his wet fingers to rub small circles on your clit, eating you out like a man starved, craving to have your release on his tongue. You started babbling incoherently, throwing your head back and shutting your eyes when the feeling became too much.

For a second you thought you felt him spelling his name on your clit with his digits, but that could also have been something your fuzzy brain came up with.

"I'm s-so close! Ah!" You moan loudly, "gonna cum-"

And then the coil snap, black spots taking over your vision as pleasure explodes inside your veins, thighs shaking and squeezing his head, Kento only groans as he eagerly lapped up your slick. He worked you through your high until you were pushing his head away.

You're a panting mess, laying there on his dinner table as you try to recover and all Kento could think as he stood up was that you looked like a dream.

"Are you alright?" Kento rubbed the outside of your thighs up and down, still slotted in between them.

"Yup. Just- Help me up?"

"Of course!"

He quickly stepped back holding both of your hands firmly so you could anchor yourself as you sat up and then slid to the ground on unsteady legs. You took a deep breath and mumbled a hoarse "thank you". Once you were certain your legs wouldn't fail you, you squeezed his hands, signaling it would be fine to let you go.

Your eyes drifted to the wet patch and the very clear tent on his pants. You couldn't help but feel a new wave of desire watching over you. You licked your lips and stepped until you were flush against him, fisting the lapels of his shirt and pulling him down. You didn't care that he tasted like you or that his lips were still stained with your juices as you eagerly kissed him. Kento hummed into the kiss, arms circling your waist.

He let you take the reins, felt your clumsy fingers struggle to open each of the buttons of his shirt, and helped when you pushed the open garment down his shoulders and arms. Nanami only stopped you when you tried to unbuckle his belt, his large hands circling your wrists and pulling them up. You whined into the kiss, biting his lower lip and pulling away.

"Let me return the favor. Please."

"Fuck. Tasting you got on the very edge of the precipice I wouldn't last if you went down on me, beautiful."

"That's fine, I-"

"It's not fine," he cut you off, placing a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. "It's not fine because right now I need to fuck you. Will you let me?"

You shivered, lips parting in wonder. The tension on his shoulders and blown pupils did little to hide his hunger and you weren't faring much better, "yes, please."

You were embarrassed by the shriek you let out as he easily picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and walked around as if you weighed less than a feather, "I promise I'll give you a tour of the apartment tomorrow morning," (which he does so after bringing you a lovely arranged tray with breakfast in bed and spoon feed you yogurt with chopped fruit before you finally have enough and push him down on the bed to suck him dry).

His strength became even more pronounced when he held you up with only one arm to open the door to his bedroom and before you knew it, he had you laid down and spread over the comforter on his mattress. You admired his shifting muscles as he toed off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and removed his pants until he was standing before you in only his briefs. Nanami was truly a sight for sore eyes, with his mussed-up hair (probably your fault), heaving chest, and deep v-line that gave way and pointed down to a badly concealed dick. 'Happy trail' never felt like a more fitting moniker, the meticulously trimmed blonde hair a path to paradise.

"You're beautiful," you had been so engrossed in gawking at him that you failed to notice he had been doing the exact same to you, soft hazel eyes then meeting yours. You knew that small compliment had you blushing, you started to sit up, legs going to fall close, but Kento stopped the movement by kneeling between them, "don't. Let me see you."

"Fine. But you gotta let me see you too," you bargained with a tip of your chin to his cock. You knew for a fact he was positively packing since the shape of it was so clearly apparent too.

"That can be easily arranged."

You watched in bated breath as he slid his briefs down, revealing his thick, veiny… perfect cock. The tip is red and angry, precum dripping down its sides. You caught yourself wondering if he would even fit.

Kento kneeled back on the bed and jerked you forward on the bed so your head rested on a pillow and climbed after you. He reached above you for his wallet on the bedside table and picked through it until he found a condom and dropped both back on the bed, his attention shifting back to you.

"We don't have to use it. I'm on the pill. And I trust."

He wasn't sure if his cock twitched over the prospect of feeling you whole, with no barriers or if it was your trust that turned him on so much.

"My last annual check-up came up clean, but I will do nothing you don't want to, love."

"I want to feel you, Kento. Every inch of you," you were trying to go for seducing, but you were pretty sure you just sounded desperate.

He pressed a finger to your entrance, thumb catching your clit in mean circles to test the waters, and then a second finger, thrusting them lightly. It's when he starts scissoring them to prepare you for what was to come that you let yourself melt.

"Ken, I'm ready, please," you cried wantonly, fingers digging into the comforter as your entire body quivered.

"Are you, love?"

"Hmhmm. So ready." You nodded maniacally, desperate for more. Famished for him.

He slotted his thighs to yours, opening you up for him, and coated himself in your slick as he rubbed his cockhead head up and down your folds, his lips falling apart, gaze locked on the tantalizing motion. When it caught on your entrance you whined, arms reaching to pull him in closer and ankles locking behind his back, miserably trying to pull him in. Kento smirked and finally pushed the first inch inside. Your mouth fell open and your head lolled back at the stretch, nails digging into his back.

He hissed, shifting to his forearms and he ducked his head down to kiss you, pushing further in, feeling your tightness envelop him until he's bottomed out. You gasped into the kiss. It felt like he was so far inside of you he reached your guts.

It was perfection. Pure, unadulterated perfection. Kento was certain he had just made it into heaven.

"Fuuuuuck," you whined pathetically, "you fill me up so good."

He held to your waist as if he was scared you were only a figment of his imagination as he gradually started to move his hips.

You were putty under his ministrations, holding on for dear life and he fucked you nice and slow.

"Kento," you panted, tilting your head back as he kissed down your throat. He ground deep into your cunt, grunting as you tightened around him.

"You're doing so good for me, my love."

The room was hot and sticky, your bodies moving in tandem. Your little sobs with each new thrust like music to his ears. More than heaven, Kento felt home and, given the chance, he would spend the rest of his life worshipping you. He was so fucking close, but he needed you to cum alongside him.

You cried when he adjusted the angle, "fuck, keep going. Right there!" You supplicated.

Nanami complied, hitting that same spot with hard thrusts and a precision that upheld his title as the 7:3 sorcerer. His hand found your clit again and your breath hitched. He sped up then, hitting your sweet spot again and again and again until you're nothing but a drooly mess.

"It's like you were made for me," he whispered reverently and the praise was all you needed as his next thrust shoved you over the edge. You clamped down around his cock crying out.

When you came, Kento groaned into your skin, working you through it until he felt you go lax. He slid He slides his hands under your ass, lifting you as he shuffled onto his haunches, and he sunk impossibly deeper into your pussy.

"Ah. you're so fucking deep," you panted, completely at his mercy as he began to rock you on top of his cock.

"You're talking me so well,” He promised, watching his cock disappear inside your dripping cunt, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

His eyes flickered to yours, an angel spread on his bed for him and moaned. Not even his sweetest dreams could've conjured such image… such feeling.

"I-I think I'm close again. Ken, I'm- Oh, fuck! Yes! Please, please, don't stop!"

Kento clenched his jaw and tightened his grip, bouncing you on his dick with such force you could do nothing but holding on for the ride. He groaned, pistoling his hips up, barely holding onto his own release.

"Think you can come again for me?"

You nodded feverishily.

"Then rub at your sweet little nub for me," he commanded in between grunts and shaky breaths. You did as you were told, rubbing at your clit using your mixed juices until you see stars.

Nanami thrusted a few more times before he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled you down hard, hitting your cervix and that was enough for you to come, mouth agape in a silent cry as your head fell back, body convulsing and walls fluttering around his cock. With a low groan of your name echoing in the room, Kento felt his cock pulsing, painting your walls with his hot cum. He rocked into you a few more time until you stopped shaking and let the both of you fall back to the bed, mindful not to crush you under his weight.

You sighed, caressing his back as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on your heaving chest, both of you basking in the luxurious bliss of an orgasm.

You didn't know it then, but at that moment Kento decided you would be the woman he would marry, no matter how long it took for you to see it as well.

taglist: @madamechrissy @elliehenry24 @vivivillian

a/n: idc, consent is hot.

©sugurusfavemonkey 2025┃all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate or otherwise modify this work

[westside-rot]

Therapy Hours

Pairing: husband!terry richmond x black fem!reader

Words: 3.7k words

Summary: Terry seeks comfort from the only person who can give it to him.

Notes: Minors DNI. Smut, oral: fem receiving (0ver-stimulation) and cursing. Light by my standards lol. I had to force myself to stop revising this so please forgive any errors. I'll find em eventually and fix it. 😭 In the future I plan on alternating between fluff and smut so the next one should be fluffy/angsty.

Here's a visual of the position used. Not quite the same but close enough 👀: *nsfw pic link* *link #2*

Also please don't repost this on any other sites. Reblogs/comments/likes make me happy.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov

Something isn’t right. You look over to the side and discover the space occupied by your husband is empty. He was there a moment ago, proud and silent in his admiration for you while you sat mesmerized by the view. This picnic was the culmination of a month-long struggle to find balance with work and each other. All you cared about was reconnecting with him in a garden straight out of a fairytale for as long as possible, forever if you had it your way. Now he was nowhere to be found.

You rationalize his absence by assuming he must’ve forgotten something in the car. Likely an item you’d noticed earlier and convinced yourself not to purchase. Satisfied with your answer you lay back on your thick cotton blanket face to the infinite stretch of blue, uninterrupted by clouds with your arms and legs stretched out in opposite directions as far they'll comfortably reach. That’s when you notice the dress you’d been wearing has somehow vanished as well.  You don’t bother pursuing logic this time. It’s beautiful outside and warmed to the ideal temperature for sunbathing. Now you’re a part of that beauty, perfectly made and carefree.

The sun’s warmth penetrates your brown skin and you relax into a gratified acceptance with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. A breeze grazes your skin. You part your legs to it exploration. It's subtle at first then harder as it sweeps up your legs and fixates on your intimate parts. You moan as your hips begin to move in a sensual dance interrupted by something you can’t name. Then you realize the golden reddish hue behind your eyelids is gone. It's dark, darker than it should be for the time of day. You find it impossible to care with so much pleasure running through your system. It doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for your predicament. They can keep you so long as they promise never to stop.

The unknown force answers with more delicious suction. It draws your body into a tight arch and pulls the breath from your lungs. Breathing is pointless where you’re headed. While your brain can’t fathom the destination, it doesn’t get in the way of supplication once you're finally pushed over the edge.  

"Terry..." You moan the name forever present in your heart and mind. His location is still unknown, you trust him to always find you.

"I’m here love." The voice is muffled. You recognize its owner the second you hear it.   The pleasurable void you’ve fallen into rematerializes as soft sheets against your back. Everything else gradually comes into focus, your husband's massive hands anchored on your waist, the prick of his facial hair as his tongue and lips move along your slick folds made warm by each labored breath he takes. Your eyes reset themselves forward as you attempt to reorient your place in the real world, a simple task made difficult by his unwillingness to pull his tongue from your drenched hole. Delirious but still guided by habit you manage to catch sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:00am.

"Shit…We have to be up in a few more hours--" Your hands act in contradiction to your words, pulling him in closer by the neck to keep him on the right spot. "Baby..."

"I know." He flattens his tongue against your clit and latches on. You realize he's responding to the urgency in your voice and not the truth you’re attempting to speak.

Where your first orgasm was tempered by your dream, the second attacks your senses at full force. His strong capable hands absorb the shock as they hold you in place.  It's several minutes before your thrashing subsides to gentle undulations from the heavy breaths passing through your body. His fingers knead the flesh around your waistline. Even though his lips are still dangerously close to your pussy you feel more like the wife he’s attempting to soothe and less like the midnight snack you've been made into. You melt among the pillows with your eyes closed one hand loosely cradling the back of his head, the other bent and draped across your face as he makes out with your inner thighs. It takes you a while to recover your voice, a little longer to remember what you intended to say next.

"What’s wrong papa? Did your regret for not playing with me earlier finally wake you up?”

He doesn’t speak right away. The answer reaches you in the silence long before his words give confirmation.

"I’d take regret over these dreams I keep having. They’re getting worse."

Six months ago, Terry nearly lost his life attempting to protect his cousin. His outer wounds have healed up nicely. It's the scars left on his soul that provoke your bloodlust. If you had your way those piece of shit cops would’ve received their karma long before the worst happened. Mike would be alive. The man you love, a man accustomed to sleeping peacefully by your side every night wouldn’t be routinely attacked by demons you couldn’t see.

Most nights you’re promoted to the role of big spoon. You hate the circumstances, but it settles the panic in your heart to hold your mountain of a man in your arms and grant him the protection he’s given you over the years. Tonight, he's found a different way to cope, a method worth keeping in your toolbelt even if it means resembling a zombie for the rest of the day.

"Baby I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up." You reach down to massage his ears with both thumbs before attempting to bring him to eye level. He resists by nuzzling his face in your thigh.

"Technically I did wake you up." He mumbles, filtering kisses between increasingly labored breaths. The path his lips are taking force you into a conundrum. Press the issue or trust his methods. Brains weren’t meant to work this hard at this hour. It’s cruel and unfair when you realize Terry isn’t weighted down by the same predicament. Every time his breath passes over your sensitive lips you feel your logic slipping further away. He’s giving you a reason to forget and move on. You’re also his wife. The one person on this shitty planet he can always rely on, the only person crazy enough to sacrifice a third orgasm so close after the second to protect his heart from the lie he was attempting to maintain.

You find a compromise in the minute that passes, maybe two. It’s hard to separate the details when he’s making every attempt to bury his face in your pussy. You struggle to be assertive. It’s the desperation in your voice when you say his name that eventually gets him to lift his head.

The room is dark, the moonlight casts a glow across the top half of his face just enough to see his eyes. He reminds you of a sad puppy being chastised for something they don’t understand. The expression breaks your heart and makes you smile as you stroke his jawline, your upturned lips on full display to match his sad look.

“I need to make sure you’re okay and not telling me what you think I need to hear. We deal with this together. Not apart.”

He nods and turns his face into your hand to kiss your palm. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room, but you remain patient, resisting the urge to pry the answer from his now visibly tense body.

“I dreamed I lost you.” His delayed response is both a relief and heartbreaking as the previous dreams he’s shared replay in your mind. All include some variation of him being imprisoned. None include a happy ending for him or for Mike. Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you mimic his vice like hold once he buries his face in your stomach.

Regret mixes with the anger you were already struggling to contain. It fills the room, ensnaring you in contradictory thoughts. Sit on his face to make you both feel better or do what Terry refused to and murder the men responsible for making him feel anything less than a hero, for desecrating the space in his heart reserved for the people he loved.  You could only really be mad at yourself for pressing the issue. Orgasms were a far better reward than listening to the gruesome details of your presumed demise. Given what he's been through your mind takes you to the worse possible options. You’re prepared to listen but aren’t sure how you'll get back to sleep afterward this.

"Nothing is going to happen to me." You soothe him with more kisses and tender reassurances. He answers with a tighter grip like he’s expecting something to challenge your words.

"We fought about everything…” He starts. You prepare for the story to get progressively worse. “One day you show up with some random ass light skinned fucker with a crooked hairline. I’m thinking he’s the new gardener only to find out you’re leaving me for him. You kicked me out. Had me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while some bum ass bitch wore my clothes and fucked my wife. Losing you is one thing. Losing you to a leprechaun who can’t grow a proper beard is bullshit."

 You were anticipating having your throat slashed or a hole torn in your chest by a monster you couldn’t outrun. This was somehow worse because Terry was dead serious yet nothing he said warranted a serious response.

"Ok, first of all, you’re light skinned too."

Clearly you were being tested and failing miserably. You'd taken a deep breath in the hopes of drawing something positive and meaningful into your thoughts. All you managed to do was bring up a past hilarious debate about him being caramel and not chocolate like he proclaimed himself to be. Terry’s head shot up like someone had lit a fire underneath him. You can feel him staring you down and instantly crack under the pressure.

"Be serious woman."

The poor man is clearly traumatized. You bite down on your cheek for his sake before giving him a direct view of your face, wide eyed and filled with doctored innocence that crumbles by the second. “I’m trying!” You fuss. “But you’re being awfully specific about this man's appearance."

"I saw the fucker clear as day like I’ve seen him before…I’m taking you to work. Might even stay just to be safe."

The conviction in his voice tells you not to brush off his words.  You can imagine him now posted up in your office surveying the area. He wouldn’t hover or say much, his domineering presence and chiseled muscles on full display would guarantee no woman within a 30-mile radius was productive. You would be at the top of the list. Unlike half the women in your office you had zero decorum in your husband’s presence. The last thing you needed were your colleagues gossiping about you getting fucked in your office.

"My dear sweet husband aren’t you being a little unreasonable?” Posing the question in a song doesn’t have the desired effect. It merely gives him a reason to frown harder.

"Hell no. I’m not taking anything for granted anymore, especially when it pertains to you. Far as I’m concerned this was a message from God to protect my home.”

There’s plenty to laugh at. Even less to challenge. You were looking at your answered prayer, a literal message from God to prove men like Terry weren’t a fantasy. This one was real and more than you could’ve hoped for. In honor of that gift you smile and nod in agreement and prepare to be followed everywhere.

“I can’t say you’re wrong. I can tell you no one at work fits the description.” He ponders while you stroke his neck. He isn’t silent for long.

“He could be a new security guard or the person delivering the mail."

"Mhm, I could forgive the wrinkles in a UPS uniform. Something about those brown shorts makes me feral. I’m getting wet thinking em." The laugh you’ve been holding sputters from you, putting tears in your eyes.

Terry sucks his teeth and gestures to raise up completely. He doesn’t get far when you throw your arms around his neck. He grunts but lets you have your way. "It's not funny."

"You’re right baby. It's not.  Dream me is a dumb ass bitch. I’d never leave you, especially not for an obviously unattractive man with tiny feet and a crooked hair line. You’re so pretty daddy. No one with sense would ever look anywhere else." You lean forward to coax a smile from him with a kiss. You feel his jaw loosen and his fingers grip up your ass. "I love you."

All the humor in your voice is gone, replaced with an unmistakable sincerity that eases Terry back to the calm levelheaded man he's always been. "You’re taking the necessary steps to heal. It's not something you'll ever forget but you’re going to be okay. We both are. The fact we can laugh about any of this is progress. Now I’ll promise to keep my sidepiece out the house you pay bills in if you promise not to stalk me from the parking lot."

He chuckles. "Promise."

It's nearly 4am. In two more hours you'll have to be up for work. Hardly enough time for a decent rest but your body will hate you if you don’t try to get back to sleep. You kiss your husband one last time and gently lay a hand on his chest to pull away only to be met with resistance.

"Wait. I still need to prove it to myself."

"Prove what baby?"

“That you won’t give up on me. That I won’t lose you." He speaks against your lips, his voice moving through you like the low rumble before a storm. It stirs up the lust cast aside for his benefit. You feel it in your belly and everywhere his tongue has been.  The energy in the room changes with the dark look in his eyes. He drinks you in saying nothing and everything with his calculated gaze. Awareness pricks at your skin off the strength of his possession moves. Then his hands are on you, lowering your arms from around his neck to your sides. He seizes your waist and hums as if contemplating something. Before you can ask the question, you lose the words in the swift rearrangement on to your stomach. You gasp from the shock while the rest of you uses all your energy to push against the sturdy fingers holding your wrists down. Freedom isn’t your goal. You resist solely to reinforce his dominance and feed your desire to test his nature. You want him to stake his claim and issue a warning to anyone daring to look in your direction even if the rival in question is a phantom conjured up by his subconscious.

Handcuffs aren’t an option for obvious reasons. You wonder if binding your hands together with rope will achieve the same shuddering response to being cloaked with his weight. You’re completely helpless and content to stay right where you are, one with mattress, one with him.

"Say you'll never leave me." His warm breath passes over your ear before his teeth sink down on flesh.

"I'll never leave you." You whisper back, moaning appreciatively when he kisses down the column of your neck down between your shoulder blades. His hands aren’t pinning you down anymore, but you try your best not to move as his tongue traces a warm and agonizingly slow line down your spine to your ass.

"I’ve never taken a life. I will if it means keeping you safe…You belong to me " Terry had taken down an entire police force without sending anyone to hell where they belonged. It was comical to think a man she never met; a man who didn’t exist could provoke him to use lethal force. The unexpected sting of teeth clamping down on your backside jolts you out of your musing. He's fully awake now, unfettered by slumber and past traumas. He doesn’t need to be gentle or ask for permission. The pain from that discovery offers an indescribable contribution to the pleasure you’ve experienced thus far. You can’t distinguish the two anymore the harder he bites.

"Yes." It's an reiteration and an apology for earlier all wrapped up in jarring acceptance. This isn’t the man you fell asleep next to hours ago. You aren’t the same either. His influence has unlocked a part of your brain that craves the pain and the pleasure it brings. If branding you with his teeth will bring him peace you want that too.

You moan and arch toward your captor’s mouth. He answers the invitation with a growl, yanking you on to your knees, driving your face into the comforter to deepen the arch in your back. You’re already spread obscenely open. He spreads you further with his thumbs and stops moving. He’s probably smiling in that subtle way you catch when he thinks no one’s watching. This isn’t quite the same. He's taunting you with proximity, close enough to feel the heat from his breath, far enough away to create an ache only he could soothe.

"Please." He's reduced you to this, folded in half and shameless in your attempts to reach his mouth. When he does finally lick his way inside everything else in the world melts away.

He's merciful but also deliberate in the way flattens the wide breadth of his tongue along the length of you, slurping you up like ripe fruit he intends to savor. All you can do is shudder and mewl as he groans into your slick heat, rubbing his face in it, masking himself with your scent. The message isn’t for you. It's for him. You hope it soothes the disquiet in his heart the way it's cleared out the baggage in your mind. All thoughts lead back to him, the thorough way he draws tight circles over your clit and the depths he reaches as he simulates the way he would fuck you if he had the willpower to trade places with his tongue.

He makes himself comfortable, stretching out his legs alongside your writhing body. His ankles provide a stable anchor for trembling hands. Then they’re caging you in, limiting your range of movement.

The sheets absorb your screams as you cum without warning and no sign it’ll end any time soon. You push toward his face at the same rate you pull away. Escape isn’t the goal. It's the only proper response to sensory overload. Indescribably good and too much to handle all at once. Terry is right there with you, latched on and undeterred by your frenetic movements, grunting indecipherable praise despite the pressure your thighs have placed on his ears.  At this rate you’re going to claw the sheets to shreds or beat a hole in the mattress. Then he's putting his entire body into it, crossing his ankles behind your head to lock you in place.

Weeks ago, you expressed an interest in learning Jiu-Jistu. You expected detailed commentary while you observed from the sidelines or watched a video. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first lesson or any lesson. You weren’t even sure if this was a legit move or something he’d improvised. The absurdity of it doesn’t register correctly in your mind. Instead you’re grateful, grateful for his strength, for his persistence, for his ability to find healing through forced orgasms even it’s obvious he’s lost his mind in the process. Unlike the dream version you take your vows seriously. You accept Terry at his best and his worst, through nightmares and a demonic possession. 

Panic opens your mind to a ridiculous thought. He's going to kill you.  The irrational part of your brain is convinced you won’t survive another orgasm. You can’t bring yourself to resist the rapid strumming on your clit and the spike in pleasure it produces. You’d gladly give your life for it. Leave earth with a smile on your lips and a memory worth immortalizing in the afterlife. To call your bluff Terry brings his thumb from your fluttering hole to the soft flesh of your ass.  He prolongs the suspense with teasing swipes around the rim then very slowly pushes through your defenses when he feels you’re ready for it. Something in your brain malfunctions. You start to whine like a caught animal. They’re the kind of sounds you’d find embarrassing if you weren’t in the presence of a grown ass man.

The last thing you hear before you explode is Terry’s deep voice in your ear. "Good girl."

When you return to consciousness, you’re still face down with a damp spot under your cheek and under your pelvis. Terry is stretched across your back crooning in your ear about how proud he is of you, how beautiful you are, how in love with you he is. His touch is equally soothing as he trails down your forearms to interlock your fingers. You haven’t stopped trembling. It’s worse in your legs. Even the slightest movement revives the memory of where his tongue has been. You find comfort in the fetal position anyway. Terry is right there to reinforce the hold, cradling you with his entire body so he doesn’t lose you in the subspace you’ve drifted off to. When the consequence of his overindulgence subsides to a light shudder you feel his coiled lips at your temple.

“Are you proud of yourself?”  

“Maybe.” He drawls, the pride evident in his voice. “You’re still shaking baby. Are you good? Did I hurt you?

“Of course you didn’t. I’m a little floaty but I kinda want you to break me again--just to make sure I like it.” You offer a lazy smile and reach back to scratch his cheek. "What about you? Are you finally convinced I won’t run off with your ugly ass replacement?”

His laughter sounds like music.  You wonder how he can find the joy in anything with his stiff dick left unattended and drooling precum on your backside. It’s all you can think about now.

"I am."

"Good because it’s never going to happen. I’m also not going to work today. I can’t function like this." Despite your predicament you use the distraction to your advantage and raise your thigh to accommodate him. A little maneuvering slots the tip between your lips but doesn't quite make it inside. You whimper and try again.

“No. You’ve had enough sweetheart.” You’re more than a little disappointed when he pushes your legs shut. 

“I can keep going. Let me take care of you.”

“You have taken care of me baby.” A kiss is all it takes to end your pouting. Like a greedy brat, you twist around to claim another, then one more to sample your flavor on his lips. His dick stirs against you, it doesn’t persuade him to be anything less than noble. “I plan on keeping you in this bed all day.  Get some rest. I’ll have you later.”

Terry’s demeanor remains unchanged as he realigns your back to his chest and slips is muscled leg over your restless ones. He’s given you a preview, a reminder, and a warning. You aren’t sure how well you’ll sleep knowing what you know but you snuggle up to his arm tucked beneath the pillow.

“I love you.”

Those three words calm the restlessness in your heart and get you to shut your eyes. 

"I love you too handsome. Try not to dream about me."

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

CW: Mind break, training, human pet, pet/owner relationship, humiliation, dub-con, non-con, dead dove

Pt 2, pt 3

(Reader) sat quietly and fearfully in a small cage that didn't allow for any wiggle room, their legs falling asleep under them from being in the same position for so long. They didn't remember how they got here, in a cage surrounded by freaks in what seemed to be a street market, only remembering walking home from the convenience store a little past midnight and seeing a white, blinding light before passing out.

Aliens of all shapes stuck their disgusting faces towards the bars of (Reader's) cage, speaking in sounds that didn't sound like speech at all. (Reader) watched as sniffling cages near them were bought one by one, and feared for their future.

After nearly an entire day (Reader) felt their cage lift high above the ground without shaking, and witnessed a tall creature draped with beautiful deep blue robes raise the cage to get a better look at (Reader's) face without needing to bend down. And bending down to the tiny cage must have been impossible without dirtying it's knees, since it seemed over seven feet tall.

It's face face was smooth, with large, opal colored eyes eyes in a hard shelled face. There was no nose, or lips, on its black and purple iridescent face. It spoke in a human like voice, in an earth language (Reader) couldn't understand.

"What?" Their voice was dry from dehydration.

"I asked what language you speak."

The voice was higher than expected, and melodic, yet still masculine. He lowered the cage to his hip, but didn't set (Reader) down, exchanging chatter with the seller and handing over a bag full of, what (Reader) assumed to be, some type of currency.

(Reader) was carried back to what looked like to be a large ship, dying of anxiety over what was going to become of them. They passed through multiple corridors and gateways, before entering a room decorated with glass cases and blue drapery the same color as the alien's cloak. He placed the cage on the floor and unlatched it, stepping back to give (Reader) space.

They tried to stand, but their legs were dead from the hours they spent bent doubled over. They cried in pain as the feeling began to slowly tingle down their thighs to their feet.

"What is wrong, human?"

(Reader) wiped away the snot and tears rolling down their chin. "My-My legs are numb from sitting in the cage. It hurts."

The one who bought (Reader) reached under their arm pits, raising them up and sitting them on a very high desk. He reached with what looked like scaled hands and began to massage their legs. (Reader) whined in discomfort, both at the pain and the uncomfortable situation, fearful to push the much taller creature away. Now that they were out of the cage, the alien was much taller and imposing, visibly sleek bodied under the fabric, but not scrawny, (Reader) could feel his strength.

"What is your name, human?"

"...(Reader)."

"(Reader)." He practiced saying their name, still massaging their legs. "I am Kirtch."

(Reader) nervously fiddled with the bottom of their shirt. "Why am I here?"

Kirtch pried his eyes away from their legs, looking down into (Reader's) scared face. "This will be your new home."

"What?" (Reader's) heart dropped into their stomach.

"I promise your safety, (Reader). I will do my best to provide you with comfort." Kirtch picked (Reader) up again, but didn't set them down, carrying them around the room giving them a little tour. The room was actually three, entering from the main hall into a study first, with another door leading to a bedroom, a small restroom hidden within that.

"I didn't expect to be bringing you home, so I don't have any human furniture yet. Although I've never owned a human before there is no need for you to fret, I have done extensive research, and I am confident as a first time owner."

(Reader) only just began to fully realize what was happening to them. "I.. I want to go home." The back of their throat got tight, choking back a sob painfully. Their nose began to tingle and they knew they wouldn't be able to hold back their tears for long.

Kirtch rubbed their back in what was supposed to be a comforting manor, but his hands were harder than a humans, and it was rough against their skin. "You'll feel better once your adjustment period is over. I shall bring you something to eat. It won't be a cultural dish from your planet, but it will be made of human safe ingredients."

(Reader) stretched their legs while trying to smile through their tears. 'Like hell. I'd rather die.'

They watched as he left the room, wondering how far away the kitchen or dining area was from the room they were in. (Reader) waited for a few minutes after Kirtch left before shakily rushing towards the door. But the door had no handles or knobs, it was a flat wall with barley any indication that there was an opening at all. They touched all over the spot (Reader) had seen the tall man had placed his hand, but nothing happened.

"no no nO NO!" They slapped the "door" in frustration. Time for plan B. (Reader) pressed their back against the wall, as flat as they could muster, just trying to make sure they wouldn't be visible in Kirtch's peripherals. The fear was destroying the lining of (Reader's) stomach, gurgling uncomfortably.

A whirring noise activated as Kirtch entered the room, holding a tray in his hands. It was quick, but (Reader) snuck right behind Kirtch and out the room without him noticing, right before the automatic door slid shut. The walls of the hallway were very tall and slightly rounded, made out of a blue metal. (Reader) began running in the direction they remembered entering from. They knew the probability that they were still on land was slim, but dying was better than being kept a prisoner without any hope of returning home.

(Reader) made it down only one hallway before strong hands effortlessly lifted them under their armpits. They kicked while crying, not seemingly phasing Kirtch in the slightest. He brought them back to his room, and his lack of anger hurt (Reader's) pride; it was good that he wasn't furious, threatening to hurt them, but his calmness reinforced the futility of (Reader's) escape attempt.

"That was my fault. I read that humans were prone to escaping, especially in the adjustment period. I should have expected this." He sat down, a deep imitation of a sigh rumbling through his hard chest. Kirtch sat down in his large chair in front of his desk, and laid (Reader) across his knees as their face fell. "Knowing this is my fault brings me no joy for what I need to do, however the manual did say that humans will test authority and will continue to do so if not punished."

(Reader) protested while squirming, incapable of breaking free as Kirtch slid their pants down to their thighs, exposing their bare bottom. His shelled hand was cold against their skin. (Reader) clenched to prepare themselves for contact, but it was useless against the inhuman slap, his hard flesh resulting in a sharp pain like they had been struck with a paddle instead of a hand. They yelped, squeezing their thighs together as the tears began to form again.

Another slap connected with their ass painfully, stinging as their tender rear began to bruise.

"I'm so-sorry!" (Reader) blubbered, another whack rippling their buttocks aggressively.

"Humans may appear remorseful, however this is self defense tactic to cease the pain they are experiencing. Unless one establishes themselves as the dominant force, they will continue to act out."

"No! I really am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Their voice cracked as they screamed out the apology between sobs and slaps.

Kirtch smiled, rubbing the skin he had split open, stinging the fresh cuts. "I shall finish with your punishment for now. I do not wish to spoil you, but I would be lying if I didn't have a soft spot for you, my cute little pet. The next time this happens I will not be so gentle.."

(Reader) widened their eyes in horror. That was gentle?!

"Would you rather spend your first night in my bed, or shall I prepare a nest on the floor for you? I will buy a suitable human bed for you tomorrow, of course, but until then..?"

"The floor." (Reader) replied a little too quickly.

A "nest" of bedding was constructed, and (Reader) did find it quite comfortable, but refused to sleep, fearful that at any moment they would be in danger. They rested for what only felt like three or fours hours, max, before Kirtch rose from his bed and begun his day. His routine was uncannily similar to a human's, rising and dressing in his robe, stretching and leaving to five something to eat. It only enraged (Reader) further at their inhumane treatment.

"I am not a dog." They whispered to themselves, as though fearful they would forget.

The ship must have been still docked at the trader's colony, because throughout the day gifts for (Reader) were brought into Kirtch's room and office. With each piece of "human" furniture Kirtch would happily rub (Reader's) head, petting them like an animal and waiting for them to show some kind of sign that they enjoyed their new toys. But (Reader) showed no such sign, feeling humiliated as they were treated like a cat instead of an adult human. But they didn't snack away Kirtch's hand, or tell him off, scared of being punished again, so they simply sulked, trying to hide from his gaze so they could disassociate without interruption.

His new pet's attitude was making Kirtch worried. He flipped through the human owning handbook, wondering what he could be doing wrong. They seemed so stressed, and Kirtch felt it was far worse than the normal stress of a new environment. Then Kirtch flipped to an interesting chapter on chemical responses. "If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..."

(Reader) hid under a box, hating the irony of their hiding place while they tried to formulate a new escape plan, now knowing that they were in fact still connected to some type of land. Not every alien could be a cruel monster, there had to be some kind of interplanetary animal rights group or space hippies. The box was lifted and removed from (Reader) sat to the side as Kirtch smiled down on them.

"I'm sorry I haven't been playing with you, pet. I've been so busy trying to make this room more comfortable for you that I have been unintentionally neglecting you." He scooped (Reader) up into his arms, and brought them over to his desk, which he had already cleared off. (Reader) nervously glanced around, wondering what was going to happen to them. "But I wanted to help you become acclimated to your new home. And you still feel more comfortable the sooner we ease your stress." He pulled out a box and a couple of strange bottles with syringes.

(Reader) scrambled to get away, but was quickly held down by one hand, being shushed in what was supposed to be a calming manner. One of the strange bottles filled the syringe, making (Reader) thrash harder. Kirtch pulled down their pants, revealing their still sore ass cheeks, and stuck in the needle, injecting them with the unknown liquid. (Reader) cried out as a warm sensation rippled through their body, turning their limbs to jello and making it difficult to breathe.

Kirtch released them, seeing that they could no longer run from him. (Reader) growled, pissed off that their body wouldn't act as they wanted it to. "What did you do to me?!" Their body was rapidly heating, becoming to feverish to hold up.

"If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..." Kirtch opened the box next, revealing a strange rubber looking object shaped like a cup on the outside with polyps inside. "I have always wanted a pet human, (Reader), so I was very excited to see you for sale. You are the most attractive like human I've ever seen, and I promise to give you a long, happy life."

The device was placed on (Reader's) crotch, attaching itself to their pubic area without needing to be held on. It came to life, each nub moving on it's own as it rubbed (Reader's) growing erection. The contraption grew against (Reader's) body, enlarging to fill every hole and crevice, pulsating and writhing like a living creature.

"No! It feels gross! Take it off!" (Reader) screamed in fear, watching as their hips bucked against their will and their nipples hardened through their shirt. Tears over how unfair everything was pricked at their eyes. Kirtch lifted (Reader) into the sitting position, rubbing their back soothingly while giving them a better view of the throbbing toy violating them.

"Shh. There's a good pet.." His words felt like taunts to (Reader) as they kept approaching their orgasm.

(Reader's) body was shaking as it begged for release, but (Reader) held strong, trying to rob Kirtch of the satisfaction of seeing them crumble. Another bottle was opened, this one however was poured down (Reader's) throat before they had a chance to cognitively force themselves to close their mouth. The warm liquid was tasteless and odorless, but the effect was like an immediate five shots of vodka, clearing (Reader's) sinuses and plunging them into a drunken stupor.

"What..? What..?" (Reader) couldn't even form their sentence correctly. Their unfocused eyes drifted around confusedly before snapping down to their lower regions, feeling their stomach muscles clench in anticipation.

Kirtch continued to rub their head and chest, gently rubbing their head like a good puppy while he rolled their nipple between his harsh fingers. "Whose my good little pet?"

"Ahh! No.. I'm not a pet.." (Reader's) whimpering voice mewled pathetically, their quivering lips complimenting their sweaty visage. The tingling feeling that had been building was ready to overflow.

"Don't you want to cum, little pet? It's okay. I'll make sure to always keep you happy like this, all you have to do is ask nicely." Kirtch leaned in, amused by his human's drenched thighs soaking his desk, shaking from being denied their orgasm. Behind (Reader's) back, Kirtch held a remote. They would not achieve relief until they played the part of a good little pet.

Drool dripped down (Reader's) chin, unnoticed by their hazy mind. "I-I want to cum."

"What was that?"

"Please let me cum?" They moaned, trying to press themselves deeper into the toy.

A button was pressed outside of (Reader's) peripherals.

Their body rocked violently as (Reader) was finally allowed to achieve their climax. Kirtch continued to stroke their head affectionately, whispering words of praise to his little human as liquid dripped from between the toy and their wet holes.

Kirtch kissed the top of their damp head, still smiling over how adorable (Reader) was. Although he hoped his pet would come to love him and enjoy his company on their own, he was secretly excited to use this toy on his little pet again. He peeled the appliance off, causing (Reader) to twitch sensitively in Kirtch's arms. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed, but Kirtch found that it wasn't a bad look on (Reader).

"Why don't you lay down for a nap, little pet. We'll play some more when you wake up."