#THE FACE THAT WE WEAR IN THE COLD LIGHT OF DAY / visage.

[malfaith]

TAG DROP

[snazzydwarf]

DP X DP Prompt: A White Robins Visage

We all know about the AUs of Danny being Jason's alternate version aye?

Well what about Danny being the ghost of Jason. More specifically the ghost of his Robin.

Picture this:

When Jason was killed at the hands of the joker he appeared within The Zone. Wearing his Robin uniform that was now covered in blood and soot. The greens barely seen underneath all the burgundy red.

However when he was revived/resurrected he wasn't quite... whole. Things of his past escaped him, almost as if the memories where covered in a thick fog.

It was assumed this was because of the pits. That it somehow scrambled his brain and caused not only the pit rage but also the slight memory loss and cloudyness.

However what no one knew was that when Jason left the zone to the mortal world. Something or rather someone was left behind.

Robin, now called Danny, has only ever known a life within the Ghost Zone. The small boy would be often caught running around with a large smile despite the large, gaping wound on his temple. Right bellow a large patch of black hair, the rest being stark white colour.

Somedays his form would flicker to that of someone older, in a brighter set of clothing. Almost of that you would see in a superhero movie, the once eyecatching colours have been speckled with blood. It's unknown if it came from his bleeding head or there was more injuries underneath his clothing, but no one had the heart to ask. Only Frostbite, the best healer in the Far Frozen knows the answers but refuses to speak of them. His eyes would sadden whenever it was asked, so the topic was dropped.

But one thing was certian. This boy had been so brutalized, so beaten and damaged it reflected in his ghost form. It's known that Ghosts can heal from almost anything given enough time and rest, but sometimes there where wounds that could never heal. Not unless you scared over those in your mind first.

An example of this would be Ember. The burns that once covered her body has slowly faded over time as she has come to terms with her own passing. Now only the ones on her back remain, the most important one as a flaming beam had fallen on her before she could escape the burning inferno. The smoke took her mind, but the fire took her body.

Seeing little Danny run around with the forever gushing laceration caused a grave sense of sadness to sweep those who saw him. How young, a little spark blown out before it had the time to be the light they all knew he would've became.

So it was rather a shock when one of the Bats saw the face of a younger Jason infrount of them. Sitting upon the grave of their brother humming a tune long forgotten by the older version, but forever remembered by the younger.

Flowers dropped from their hands as the second Robin turned around, domino mask wide beneath the white and black hair.

Wait... didn't they just see Jason a few days prior? Who is this? Who is wearing their brothers clothing that they swore was still displayed within the tube in the Batcave.

Their hands shook, and body trembled. Blood, oh oh god there was so much blood. The boy, Jason? was covered in it. What happened?

They knelt on the wet soil, plams held up and outwards towards the kid.

"Hey, are you oka-" right as they where about to place a hand of the child's shoulder it just... passed right through. A cold sensation washed over their body, their hand was through his shoulder but crimson stained their knees in the pool bellow them.

A voice whispered in their ear, light and airy, almost as if a passing breeze has blown through the graveyard.

"Who are you?"

[theredofoctober]

DARKNESS— an Alicent Hightower/Rhaenyra fic

Synopsis: Alicent and Rhaenyra's meeting at the Sept ends in a sensual tryst wreathed with forbidden lust and longing...

Written from Alicent's POV

Pairing: F/F, Alicent and Rhaenyra

TW: internalised homophobia, technically stepcest/step incest

Read after the cut

-

Wretched under the eyes of the Gods I made to flee the Sept, where I had gone to pray and give up to that place of stone and tallow all my sins, of which there were now many. But she who had met me there, disguised in modest cloth, called out to me with urgency.

"Alicent."

I should have run from her, called a guard to shackle her or cut her throat across the flagstones. But I could not, could never even at my cruellest turns have hated or wished ill upon her.

Scoffing, I looked over my shoulder, damning myself for the chattering bird of my heart, which has sung for her long and always.

"There is nothing more to say," I spat. "We cannot agree on this matter."

"No," said Rhaenyra. "But there are other things I would speak of with you, as we did when we were girls. Is there not some private chamber where you might sit with me?"

There was, but I knew that I should not trust her by me alone, that I might as well hold the blade she had in her sleeve to my own throat, such was the risk. But I saw in the winter moon of her soft face upturned, beseeching, that she meant me no injury, that she thought only of the days we'd lounged together on warm grass in happy youth.

I could not deny my longing to return to those hours of languid pleasures in which I'd yearned for her as one woman should not another. This crisis I had muttered over candlelight, ashamed of it, and yet I found myself nodding to my enemy and awaiting her as she gathered her skirts to rise.

Even in a Septa's formless garb Rhaenyra was beautiful, her long eyes like troubled jewels, her strong nose a pleasant slope above her slim rose of a mouth. There were those that whispered she'd long envied me my looks, and yet as she walked by my side I could not think how I would improve her visage.

For all her inner faults she did not wear them outwardly in any clear regard.

In silence I took her to a small room used for private worship whose door I locked behind us. The chamber was comprised of a simple cushioned bench, a high, narrow window, and a sparse row of candles, their modest light enough that I withheld a breath as my old friend unveiled her hair. It fell like the tail of a tumbled down star upon her clothes, so white amidst the gold of fire.

For all my bitterness against her and her clan, for all that I grieved for those dead and that would die I craved to run my hands through that hair as I had done while braiding it as a child. I burned there like some hapless wick, and sat as stone, my fists hard in my lap.

"Alicent," said Rhaenyra, again, and sitting by me on the bench she took my hand, a furrow cleaving her pale brow as I flinched, skittish, from her.

"You are bold to touch me," I said, "after what you have done. And what has been done to you."

"Perhaps," she said. "But have I not always been?"

I thought of her kissing me, once, which she'd done as a girl, a secret thing we had been caught at, and scolded from doing again. As Rhaenyra spoke I watched her mouth as I'd done then and wondered if it was soft still, how it would taste unsweetened by the cake she'd favoured.

My innards coiled with shame at the fancy, and I despaired that I was given so helplessly to aberration, whether through my lying with Cole or this other hunger.

"What is it you wish to discuss with me?" I asked.

My voice was cold, I'll warrant cruel, and yet I betrayed something of my thought, it seemed, for again Rhaenyra put out her hand to mine.

A fool, I let her take it. Like some plush bolt of fabric her skin was against me. Her fingers coiled, gentle, through mine.

I found my breathing laboured.

"My love for you remains," she said. "Remember this, when darkness falls. Through everything, I have loved you."

"And I you," I said. "It has been difficult. I do not deny it."

Rhaenyra lifted up my hand and kissed it, her lips like some pretty ring between the knuckles. She kept them there with soundless joy, her eyes half-closed in reverence. I shivered as she held me thus, and blinked my eyes of tears.

"My heart has strained for some solution to all that is between us," she said. "I came here in pursuit of it and have found none, and still this love remains."

"It is a doomed one," I said. "This we both know."

We looked upon each other without hope of altering what we beheld of fate, and as though impelled by one sole mind we moved into embrace, my arms about her shoulders, hers a link of iron at my waist. How warm and firm she was, smelling of leather, of travel sweat, and the sea.

I was overcome then with a joy contorted by my mourning of the friendship that was, by my resentment that in this world which was a trap for any woman she had thrived, defied it, had sinned often and without a care. That she had come to this place of worship and soundly dashed from me the prophecy, from which I'd clawed a desperate hope that all the motions I and those I loved had made against her claim were righteous—

She, this gleaming serpent of a woman, was the glass in which I saw myself descended from all grace. Yet as I held Rhaenyra I was overcome by love, by want of her; as I drew back I saw she felt the same, her eyes—always her most honest feature—flitting a dance of fire before me.

"We will not be together like this again," she said.

Her voice was soft, alluring. One hand came up to stroke my cheek, and only through fear of judgement did I resist her caress.

"No," I said. "Rhaenyra, I forget myself—"

"So forget with me," she said, "and think instead of how we were, once. What I dreamt in some other life could be."

She inclined her face to mine, our lips parted only by a lattice of breath.

"We must awaken from that dream," I whispered. "We cannot flee on dragon back together."

"That is not what I ask," she said. "Only this."

Slowly Rhaenyra brought her mouth to mine, and I opened to her willing, pulling her slim form to my breast with searing want of her proximity. So fierce, that kiss, a flagon that slaked me; I felt through it her care for me, the agony that was the gully of time and injury that would drive us both mad.

The crimson length of her tongue found mine, and I parted my jaw to take it, giving myself to violent abandon as I did to all beckoning sin.

She kissed me, kissed me, bent me back against the pillowed bench until I lay upon it, her figure in its dress of false innocence between my thighs. I tugged at my underskirts and the fabric beneath with haste, my hand at Rhaenyra's wrist, pulling her to the hot and urgent longing there.

She paused a moment, her white cheeks flushed with passion.

"You are certain?" she asked.

"Do not speak," I said. "Touch me. Touch me."

I kissed her, my hand a talon in her hair, exalting in the texture of it, the oily scent of it upon me. Rhaenyra moaned into my eagerness, led by my words to touch the cleft between my legs, the pistil of the lily waking to her fingertips. Digits by two she curved within me, guided by the upward wave of my hips in their wanton rutting.

I murmured against her lips, pulled at the Septa's dress until, gathered about her chest, I worked my palms beneath it. Rhaenyra's breasts fell into them, beautiful still, though like my own they had been changed by age and childbirth I felt and saw only loveliness, and wished I could have lain with her all the day to know them more. I turned my face into their weight, afraid my cries would give away our folly.

Rhaenyra slipped down from me then and knelt upon the floor, bowed in the mode of prayer between my trembling legs. Her eyes were the glittering of a wave as she caught my pleasure in the glass of her mouth, her tongue at play where her forefinger had been.

I gripped the bench and hissed through my teeth.

"Rhaenyra..."

I thought before I had known pleasure, not from Viserys, but from Cole— yet now as my enemy licked cunning fire through me those sensual heights seemed a phantom of the peak to which I leapt with Rhaenyra. Her fingers made a butter of my flesh, all salt, all molten sun— I saw her face turn, crowned with it, as she kissed my seam farewell.

"Come here," I said, and I tugged her up onto the bench in my place, earnest that I should return what she had given.

Rhaenyra laughed at my ferocity, and yet obeyed, watching from that greater height as I scrambled on all fours in a blinkering frenzy of desire to see this out.

There was a greed in me to taste her, a kind of lunatic helplessness to which I could put up not an ounce of resistance. I ran my face across her mound, the white arch of hair and dawn pink opening beneath; I sucked and lapped to cure the thirst that had me twisting, abject, a decade in my bed.

I felt her hands upon my nape, heard distantly her stifled cries as I—at last—had the flavour of her, the female musk I'd known before only from my own fingertips, or on the breath of my fallen knight. I ate of her clumsily, without expertise, my hand prying her lower mouth until its slickness let me in.

By the rhythm of her breathing and her motions against me I found how she was pleased, what touch, what tempo was her body's music.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyelids half-fell; her hands upon my scalp were sweat-damp, and I dismissed in my necessity to satisfy her the wickedness of what we did. Always such storm winds of lust took me away from myself, and did so then. I knew nothing of anger or despair, only the triumph of having Rhaenyra moan and rain her delight between my open lips.

I climbed up and sat against her, kissing her still, our pleasure one in the fluid melded on our tongues and lips. Then we sat still, her head on my shoulder as though we were but youths once more, both of us crying, sombre now in the loss that was to come.

There was nothing to be done to keep her by me; I had no power in this war between men, although I'd played my part in it.

When again I was to rise and leave the Sept we would be on either side of a crevasse that history would tremble to recall, this, like some glint of foresight, I was certain of.

And so I stayed beside her some minutes after, watched with longing as she rearranged her dress and put away her lovely hair again. But then I, too, rose from the bench and blew the candles out.

"Darkness," I said, at Rhaenyra's questioning glance. "It is a fitting end."

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Type: My vows to you/ Yandere

Pairing: Pantalone x Fallen Deity! Reader

Ahhh am I doing this correctly?? I’m a big fan of “I’m Just Doing You a Favor” so can I pls request them for this event?? Thanks for giving us smth to look forward to in the future :>

The Fancy Fiance and The Bejeweled Bride

(Yan! Pantalone x Fallen-Deity! Reader)

"Remembering; is forgetting” - Scribe

Redid some mistakes. ~ P

Disclaimer: Yandere stuff, crazy cryptic bs going on around here. No beta, we die like that guy in the story.

" Please, help me find her!" 

The strange stranger couldn't help but laugh at the notion, and merely glance at the soup of tears in his hand. Seeing the hardened reflection of your perflex-ion, “You are certainly [lucky] that the lady of compassion has blessed me to tell you, dear hale and hearty friend.”

The strange stranger revealed a beguiled smile, knowing the person will arrive upon their destination at the last light of day, a road that winds in an almost serpentine like suggestion. And the journey brings them to such tenuous and disarray terrain of the ophidian's keep.

♡¥~~~~~~~¥♡

Face nearly pressed up and against the glass pane. Showing the snow gently cascades down on the ground and dim lights from the distance is the city where the event would be held.

You couldn’t wait for it, ever since your first day of devotion, today is the day of vows.

“Doll, what's wrong?” You hear Pantalone called out to you from the door, you didn’t hear him enter.

“Dearest, It is nothing to worry about, though the thought of going to the festival of vows tomorrow..” Frail hands cupped your own cheeks, feeling the warmth emitting from it while your face hid behind the veil, sighing lovingly.

Practically you could hear his merriment when you mention your excitement for tomorrow.

You felt incredibly lucky that a person like Sir Pantalone, or at least that is what he liked to be called, would take you in and share a cup between you two.

Despite him telling that your face looked fine, but the hideousness of your own preface is what made you wear the thin curtain. You never forget the day you woke up upon these lavish beddings and claimed to be yours. 

“It is a good thing I came in prepared for you, come here.” Before you stand are dresses, each more lavish than the last.

One; it was a simple white ball gown like wedding dress, each embedded pearls from white gold to the darkest black jewelry. Gaudy yet somehow simple in his eyes.

Next would be a rather cute color of cold blue admiration, one with simplified accessories and the like. Wonderful ribbons that criss cross across your skin.

The last is a rather foreign red silky robe, with simple gold prints and an odd headdress. It felt so familiar, like seeing an old friend.

“When did you have the time for this?” You smiled going closer and touched the third dress, eyes twinkling in joy. Hands playing with the intricate hidden laces of the outfit.

“No need to worry about it, doll. By the morrow, I swear it will be a happy day for us." 

You couldn’t help but smile and hug him tight, “Thank you! Thank you!”

Feeling his gloved hands petting your head, “It is no problem, my lovely. All that matters is that you’re here and I’m here, right my sweet?” The roll of his 's' would make anyone weak in the knees.

Everything feels like a distant past somehow, yet there’s nothing better than what is in front of you.

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

Upon the day of Vows, you wore the red exotic robes and donned the veil that sweetly hid your well kept secret.

"Pantalone, look, snow!" Small gestures made seemingly fragile steps into the cold, that made the Regrator held onto you tightly so as to not slip and slide.

“Be careful, my dearest. I do not want you to get hurt.” Concern is clearly conveyed on his visage and voice. Despite him not being as muscular as the rumored Captain of the Fatui, you feel oddly safe especially with the umbrella he possesses and carries everywhere he goes.

“I know, you do not have to worry about me.” Your heart skipped a beat as he continued to hold you closer.

“I’m just scared that you’ll leave,” That made you smile and cupped his face.

“I will not just up and disappear, silly.” Embracing him as well. Seeing the warmth smile upon his face never felt so endearing until now.

“Shall we?” His gloved hands gestured to the event where it is being held, you could hear laughter and cheers from there.

“We shall.” Hand in hand, the pair of love-locked couples made their way to the busy area.

Women, men and occasionally children dressed in their finest and spent time with their beloved ones. You had to sit out one of the main events due to you not being able to fight for the bouquet of flowers, so you had to settle for a slow dance with your beloved Pantalone at the dance floor.

“Thank you for inviting me, it really means a lot to me, Pantalone.” A dreamy sigh escaped your rozen lips.

One-two-three, one-two-three, The dance isn’t well suited for one that wears garbs like yours. Often or not, you’d trip on your own clothing and Pantalone had to catch you. Embarrassing as it may be, though the time spent together. The smile that could go on for miles, stretching outward into the ocean.

During the ruckus caused by the bouquet hunting spree, you and Pantalone got separated. Participants armed with various weapons. Giant spoons, arrows of love, knives that are the size of an adult.

Amongst the throes of people, your feet had guided you to a frozen lake with snow covered trees that arched over the pool.

Alone were you with tender courage, “Charity is such a pretty word, oh, but where oh, [where] did it go?" A robust voice could be heard. 

A strange stranger in tattered frightening mora colored garbs, a rather keen entity of sorts appeared by the corner of the eye briefly. It was only a jest of the light, you explain to yourself.

Loud shrieks escaped your small lips, turning around to face a blurry visage of non, who had their hand on your shoulder.

“Miss? Are you alright? You were staring for a while at nothing.” Accent low similar to yours, soft spoken yet refined. They dressed in fine physician-like robes, calm watered jade color.

“Yes, quite so, just merely strayed a little from the event,” You took a step back to give some space. This man, he speaks in bells. None could ever ring such things other than your fiance.

With a light spangle of the red veil cast still-ly shade, "I, I am sorry but can you help me find my fiance? I am not that well acquainted with the curvatures of the road ahead.” Gentle voice of yours made his lips curved up a bit.

“Of course,” Even with the blurriness of his image. You could faintly make out him nodding at the notion of helping. “I just so happen to be in search of my sister, she is deathly ill,” voice rang with rye worry you couldn’t help but try to aid him in his quest.

“I am sure my fiance could help you after all you are assisting me back to him.” The bellow of the wind was cast.

"Thank you, kind spirit." He seemed to smile. 

"What is her name?" Curious who was the lucky girl who had such a loving brother.

"[*]" Was the name he told, another set of bell-like that tolled and odd enough it made one see a weasel in the horizon.

“[I] see– Ah! Pantalone!” You felt a smile on your lips the moment you heard a familiar voice behind the stranger.

“Doll.” The raven hair man chuckled as he embraced you tightly. His own smile did not fade yet it seemed affixed to his own visage. “Did (he harm you)?” Asking softly in your ear.

Shaking your head no, to assure him you were fine. And quietly explain to him you were lost and he kept you company. Adding to the mix is your request to find his sister.

“Hmm, Oh, how could I (deny) you, doll.” Kissing the top of your head before he turned his attention to the searching brother with an unknown facial expression.

Holding you still so closely, “You do not have to worry, I once lost someone as well, I will do my best to help.” Yet, why does it displease you so?

The brother’s voice said in glee, “Thank you, thank you, kind sir!”

“I will be with you in a moment, so please stay at home for a while.” Pantalone says as he ushered you to the care of his employees. The gentleness of his tone can be heard as he commanded the others to escort you to your shared abode for now.

Looking back at the two figures left alone in the winter snow.

"[Don't look away…]" You could have sworn a feminine voice whispered into your ear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours have passed since the guards took you to your room. All alone with your thoughts that seemingly eat away at your mind.

Every time you try to remember, the distance widens with each time a headache is a force to be reckoned with.

Your own eyes darted around your chambers, a room painted in luxury filled with exotic items. A sigh only escaped from your lips as you sat on your bed to try and recollect. Even with these items, it doesn't seem enough…

It all just feels fuzzy. Some of the items in your room are already here when you have awoken. He claimed that it was his relative's and he'll be glad to give it to you.

A knock on the door can be heard. "Pardon my intrusion, My Lady." It was Pael your appointed handmaid. Still even until now, you were uneased whenever she tried to help you in dressing up.

"My Lady, I know Lord Pantalone has not come back yet. But, do you want some soup? It is rather cold even in the supposed summer month." in her hand is a tray with a bowl of soup.

The scent of jade knowledge wafts through the room, the herbs and spices reminded you of a star.

"On the table, please. I will eat it soon." Replying to her, though curiosity beckoned on to you from its peak.

"Understood, my lady." The single eyed maid placed the tray upon the intricately carved mahogany wood.

The one eyed maid chuckled, "Fancied [you]rself [look]ing [back]?" She smiled 

"Pael, When or how did Pantalone find me?" You say, sitting down on the chair next to the warm bowl of soul.

"You could say that, Pael." There is something that even you cannot explain. But the terrible dread of something amiss is about.

"Well, it was really snowy at the time, you were white as a ghost. If you weren't [taken] in by the young master, the harsh winter would have let you a sweet and peaceful [faux] warmth." Stitched is her smile that was presented to you, her lips stretch a bit wider after a while of awkward staring between you and her.

"My Lady, it's rather cruel to think of what good you used to have. I better suggest to [look forward into] the future instead of [dream]ing of something that barely grows with [time]." Gentle push of her gloved hand to nudge the intimate style bowl holding a hydro colored jade soup.

"A childish, imaginative mind will [turn] into a noble ambition. Young admiration can turn into the most passionate of bonds." With that, Pael offered a silver spoon [for] you to consume the reflective, -though opaque, pool of jaded clarity.

"Perhaps, you are right. Though, I cannot [help] but wonder." Something about her words seem to wound you, yet none to spill.

"Wonder all you like my lady, but, no," Pael stops herself then lets out a soft chortle. "Nothing, it was just (me) humoring myself." she bowed before leaving.

Peering down at the bowl, another sigh left your lips. The scent and the warmth enticing you to take even a little sip.

Pushing all shadows away, your dainty hands scoop a portion of it to your lips. A moment to cool it down before taking a faint lick.

The silence halted as you started to cough violently, trying to force it out of your system along with dropping the spoon down to grip on the table.

Soreness of your throat is evident, the gentle voice turned hoarse and crass. Mind-numbing delight has stained your tongue, as the sound of blood pumps unevenly in your ears. Accompanied with blank staring at your fingers that grasp at the wood, feeling every grain on it.

"…!… Doll. Are you okay?" It was Pantalone, holding you in his arms. You don't remember falling, nor holding on to his gloved hand.

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

Everything felt heavy, nauseating to the point of puking into a corner. Your heartbeat pumps slowly making you almost aware of its sounds.

"J[us]t… woo…" You could see his mouth moving, though you couldn't hear a word he said.

Soon the other maids came rushing in with a large arm bag.

"Pan- Pan?" It felt like crystals forming in your throat causing you to tear up yet nothing fell. Hand grip tightly onto his for a moment before letting go.

~

That was the last you had recalled when you woke up. The room is covered in red and blue luxuries. Sweat drips down your forehead, "P-pael?" Your grainy voice tried to call out to the one eyed maid.

"Doll." Another voice called out next to you, causing you to yelp from surprise. "Doll, calm down." It was Pantalone, holding both of your wrists that attempted to hit him.

Appalled by your own actions you looked away from him and laxed your movements, "Dearest! Forgive me! I got scared and that drink, what was that? Where is Pael?" So many questions tumbled through, yet only the batman could only manage to.

For a moment, his face has a foreign expression. It didn't seem like he wanted to hear that. "There's no need to worry about her, she tried to poison you." He hissed, gripping on your wrists tighter then pulled you into a protective hug. "She's all taken care of." 

Shaky frail hands grasp firmly on his back as he dips his head between your neck. "Pantalone… I'm fine…" 

He didn't seem convinced as he let out a soft puff of air. Despite the room being warm, the chills of the winter glade seeps through. "If you say so, though. I will have a doctor to examine you okay?" 

Knowing him he would only persist, "Very well." You nodded.

Then another thought entered your mind. "What happened?" he then replied with a curious hum back.

"That strange man, he rings bells." You tried to put into words what you could describe of him.

"You usually think of other people," The word of annoyance is riddled on his evermore smile.

He then opened his eyes ever so slightly, it was of spectacular color that looked at you so teary gaze. "Don't let go of my hand, please." 

Confused, your only reply is "What?"

"Don't you know how much I worried when I found you laying on the ground?" He muttered as he protectively hugged you, your face pressed to his chest.

"Face pale as the snow itself, spasming, gasping for air, and yet you cared for the stranger rather than yourself." His heart beat is almost like music with how slow it is. 

"But that's what is so special about you. (Your love for others could cost you everything), you know?" Woe written all over his tone, he kissed your forehead.

"I could give you everything you want. Just tell me. Name it and it's yours. In exchange…" Odd that he stopped himself any further, "No, that's not right…"

He pulled back and looked at you, his face "Exchange is a strong word, I prefer to refer to it as returning the feelings. Just looking or even listening to me is enough for me, dearest."

"I'm an honest person, all I want for you is to [run] into the future."

[mercysought]

i don’t think the gods can be bothered to answer my prayer. ( a young stannis to steffon )

@praeludio / @strmfury . under the udala trees . selectively accepting

  "You must learn to temper you impatience, Stannis.”

His voice is distant, cold but dark eyes are intensely grounded on the figure of the younger man. It was mandatory that he should follow his father’s advice, the sooner the better. The young years on his shoulders don’t make it easy, Steffon knew, but to speak so rashly was only begging for tragedy and the ire of the Gods to turn towards them.

  "Come.” 

He walks towards the small temple to the Nine within Storm’s End, his hands come to rest in the pockets. The Lord of Storm’s End comes to a stop before the Father, feeling the eyes of all of them descending before him. It always surprised him how small he felt within those small walls. He turns to face his son once more and he wears the same expression that he himself had worn when he was as young, before going with his own father to fight. He had also felt as equally wounded and slighted by the Gods. There were days where that same hurt still erupted and bit into his sides, and that was how he found himself back there again.

  "Many will assume from our motto that all Baratheons are foolhardy.” towering over the boy, Steffon turns “The same way they would paint all Targaryen's as madmen.“ his hand falls on his thin shoulder, squeezing it softly with a serious and heavy expression on his face “Just because fools expect a specific visage from you, it doesn’t mean that we should prove them right.“

It was a hard lesson and one that had no true right or wrong answer. It was all depending on how the light hit the mirror, how they dealt with a situation based on the minutia that surrounded them.

  "The Gods answer on their own ways, on their own time. It is how it has always been, and how it will always be. There is no point at shouting at the roaring sea because of the tide, hm? One must simply wait.“

[luvyanfei]

WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON HIS SHOULDER 

ft. xiao, albedo, diluc, kaeya, scaramouche, childe, zhongli & venti non-requested piece

XIAO doesn’t know how to react when he feels a heavy weight on top of his shoulder and finds your head leaned against him comfortably, your eyes closed. his fingers reach out to push you off of him, but he decides against it at the last minute. it would be rather indecent of him to disturb your sleep, and now that you’re unconscious, he’s able to study your face up close without needing to concern himself about getting caught. “how silly.” he murmurs to no one in particular. “to think that someone like you is capable of breaking down my walls. i thought i discarded human emotions long ago, but is it really alright for me to love you?” why is he confessing all this aloud, who knows. XIAO leans in close to your face till his lips are barely touching yours. he stays like that for quite some time before he reluctantly pulls back. mortified of himself, he turns around slightly to stare at the leaves soaring in the light breeze, but he fails to notice the slight blush on your face as you struggle to keep your eyes closed. perhaps once you ‘wake up’, you’ll surprise him with an innocuous kiss to finish what he’s started. 

ALBEDO glances up from the sketching he’s occupied his time in perfecting, and accidentally moves too quickly that he stirs you awake. you groan in exasperation, rubbing at your eyes before you gasp at what you’ve just done. sheepishly, you mumble out an apology for bothering him, but your wrist is ensnared in his firm grip and he gently guides your head back to rest on his shoulder. he strokes your flushed cheeks with his cool fingers and kisses you chastely on the forehead. “it’s okay. take a little break if you need to. i’ll be here when you wake up.” 

DILUC ends up sighing without a second thought and turns away from your sleeping form sheepishly as he blushes uncontrollably. his heart is pulsating loudly against his ribcage and he’s having trouble thinking coherently due to the very close proximity shared between you two. are you even comfortable sleeping on his shoulder? his posture is pretty rigid so it probably feels like lying on a boulder. ever so slowly, he lifts you up in his arms to tuck you into bed, but freezes once he hears a tired yawn. “sorry. am i disturbing you? you fell asleep, so i’m just taking you to your room.” you shake your head and give him a closed-mouth smile, encouraging him to move forward. he brings you down on the mattress and covers you with the warmth of the blanket. “good night, my love.” 

KAEYA can’t help but smirk to himself. really, you’re too trusting for falling asleep on his shoulder so casually like this. aren’t you even just a little bit suspicious of him? well, your innocence is what infatuated him to you in the first place. he gives you a light pat on the back and chuckles softly. “i hope you’re not like this with anyone else,” he mutters, watching an eye out in case any opponents are lurking around. despite being a cryo wielder, his hands feel rather warm as he cups your delicate fingers with his. it feels nice, not having anything to worry about if you’re trapped in pleasant dreams. as cruel as reality is, KAEYA is glad that you’re here to sweeten up his lonely days. 

SCARAMOUCHE scowls and pushes you off of him roughly. what is he, a pillow? startled, you have to balance yourself before you topple to the ground. glaring at the harbinger, you instead lean your head against the shoulder of the person that is closest to you and dozes off, in front of him no less. unknown to you, this immediately sets off his jealousy and the poor guy, who he immediately recognizes as tartaglia, gives him a confused look but smiles slyly nonetheless. with a click of his tongue, SCARAMOUCHE yanks you off of childe’s shoulder, awakening you once more, much to your chagrin, and pulls you to his side. “if you’re going to sleep on someone’s shoulder, i’d rather it be mine’s.” 

CHILDE has to verbally restrain himself from squealing at the top of his lungs at how cute you look. his heartbeat speeds up like a rushing river as he ushers for teucer to quietly fetch him a blanket. he then wraps the comforter around your body to keep you snug in the cold of snezhnaya. he’s well aware of how exhausting it may be to travel around teyvat in order to find out the hidden truth this world has to offer. you’ve been through so much, it’s the least that CHILDE can do to stay by your side as you rest up. he links his pinky with yours and a flicker of hope brings life to his cerulean eyes. “no matter what choice you make, i pinky promise i won’t leave you, not until we reach the end.” 

ZHONGLI doesn’t even notice that you’re dozing off, being too fixated on his nonstop rambling to feel the weight on his shoulder. it’s only after he’s done talking does he let out a tiny sigh and loops a hand around your arm. unconsciously, you nuzzle further into his chest and relaxes in his gentle touch. with the sun basking down on his face and the calming atmosphere that lingers in the air, ZHONGLI finds himself overcome with fatigue. he ends up closing his eyes shut and leans against you as both of you drift into a state of quiet tranquility, side by side. 

VENTI brushes away a strand of your hair with an index finger so he can view your peaceful visage in full. your chest rises and falls with every breath you take in and exhale, leaving him to hope it will never stop. he takes off his cape and hat for you to wear since the wind isn’t exactly friendly right now. okay, fine. he actually just wanted to know what it’s like for you to wear his clothing on, and he doesn’t regret doing it one bit. it’s tempting for him to snap a picture of you, but watching you is good enough, he supposes. VENTI will just have to store this memory to heart like all the others he has of you. 

[nyxoholicwrites]

hii i absolutely LOVEE ur works!! hehe may i request domestic mc and toasty just making sweets together 🤲 mwehehehe also i hope u have a wonderful day/night!! <33

Hello anon! I'm happy to hear that you enjoy my fics!

Ofc you may! I am here to deliver after all

I am so happy that you requested toaster bc they have my whole heart and I haven't gotten the opportunity to write much for them so I AM READY <3

Awee thank you! I hope you are also having a wonderful day/ night!

Now, let's get baking shall we?

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

NakedToaster x GN! Reader

Prompt: What better way to spend the day with your beloved than baking sweets?

TW: The ending is a bit suggestive but nothing explicit, the rest is up to your imagination hehe

It was a cold winter evening, snow had embraced the whole city, covering every street and corner with its cloak. The lights of each building burned bright, the whole city had a certain warmth to it, thanks to them, all felt right. Behind the closed door of their shared living space, the sounds of an enemy being slain could be heard, and a victory was claimed.

After a tiring week of working at their respective jobs, the couple had decided on staying in for the weekend, enjoying one another's company. All of the collected exhaustion left their bodies the minute they had laid in their bed and slept till their heart's content. The whole day was spent playing the critically acclaimed MMORPG FFXIV, their screens burned bright and their levels soared higher, no chatter between them was needed, other than a few helpful hints from Toasty, for a comfortable silence filled their room as they basked in the time they spent together.

Usually, during their famous raids, xyx would join the couple, never failing to tease the two every time an opportunity presented itself. And, although they never did mind his company, today was their day, and being the good friend he was, he respected their wish and left them with a suggestive remark. His words never failed to make the calm and collected Toasty burst in a crimson blush, but, before he could retaliate, xyx had made sure to log off quicker than they could summarise why FFXIV is worth paying $14.99 a month.

Eventually, Y/n rose from their desk, wrapping their arms around their pink-haired lover as he couldn’t help but jump in surprise from their sneak attack. “ Y-y/n! Where did you come from?!”

“ The other side of the room, I know, I am also shocked.” Their teasing remark made his eyes roll as he returned their dose of sarcasm with his own, “ Hahaha, very funny, did you need something?”

They couldn’t help but smile at them, they fondly gazed at Toasty, glancing at how adorable they looked, which was nothing new, but it was always important to remind them of said fact. Quickly, they smothered his face with kisses, unable to comprehend their sudden affections, his blush from beforehand had darkened into a deep crimson. They practically short-circuited at each kiss that decorated their visage, luckily, Y/n didn’t wear any lip product or they would have surely died at the sight of all the marks left behind.

“ I was thinking, why don’t we bake something? We haven’t made anything sweet in a while and I have been craving something sweet other than you.”

For those familiar with the Mortal Kombat franchise, Toaster was now experiencing a ‘ FATALITY’. “ I-if I agree, will you promise you won’t tease me anymore?” Although their facial expression was painted with a mischievous grin, they crossed their fingers behind their back, they never could resist teasing them with every chance that appeared, but for now, they would settle down with their mischief. “ Alright, I promise that I won’t tease you any further.” Remember kids, lying is a-ok as long as you get to tease Toasty along the way.

....

After they prepped all of the bowls and utensils, the couple finally got to work. Beforehand, they searched through their cookbook, looking for an ideal recipe, something quick, something easy, something that would fulfil their sweet desires. There were many rather difficult desserts, some had a cooking process of two days which, in all truth and honesty, wasn't something their lazy attitudes were wanting to complete.

Just as they were about to give up, a certain sweet caught their eye, sugar cookies. The recipe filled their criteria and passed with flying colours and so, with decisive nods they quickly got to work. With a fast pace, they made the batter ready, mixing in all the necessary ingredients, and soon, the once empty oven was now filled with the sugary delicacy.

As they were pouring the icing sugar in the bowl to make the icing, it was not time to start their teasing, " Toasty, I have a question, after the cookies are done, can you take me to a bakery?" He slowly raised his eyebrow in confusion, a bakery? Why would they need to go to a bakery, especially in the evening? And as soon as they saw the confusion on their face, they knew they had won.

" Sure? But why would you need to go to a bakery?" With a slight grin, their long-awaited response left their lips, " Because I want a cutie pie like you∽" God, he can't catch a break today, can he? He groaned cutely as he blushed for the umpteenth time today.

Although the two have been together for well over a year now, they never failed to get them flustered, whether it was with their touch or words, simply being with them got them feeling like a teenager. That was one of the beauties of love, no matter the amount of time that passed, whether it was a month, a year, or even a decade, nothing failed to get you falling for them all over again.

As they snickered at his reaction, he finally decided to get revenge. Toasty was never bold with their affections, their love was always on display through countless gifts or an act of service, and although they were fond of their touch, it was mostly initiated by Y/n. But today was going to be an exception.

With a determined stare, they took a long stride to their beloved, before Y/n could question their intentions, their face was cradled between a pair of soft hands and their lips quieted as they were pressed against another pair. Their eyes widened in surprise and a crimson tint had spread itself over their cheeks, but slowly they leaned in and reciprocated Toasty's kiss.

The kiss was as addicting as the sugar that patiently sat in the bowl, but oh it was even sweeter than the latter. What had started as something sweet and innocent had soon heated into something passionate. They tightly held him in their arms as if they feared losing him, every moment was precious and they wished it could last forever.

They moved with such unison it felt as if they were two puzzles who fit perfectly once put together, and with each kiss, it was even more apparent. Before things could further escalate, the timer had soon buzzed a familiar tune and they broke away from their embrace, their breaths quickened to capture the air they had lost just moments ago.

" W-we really should get started on that icing now huh?" As they finally caught their breath, they ran to take the sweets out of the warm oven, shutting it off for the night, however, said sweets were the last thing they had planned for the evening. As they slightly dipped their finger into the icing sugar, they tapped it onto his nose.

" You know Toasty, I think I want my cutie pie instead ∽"

I will leave the ending to your imagination my dear reader∽

AN: I LOVE TOASTY SMM, probs gonna replay their route now

Hope you enjoyed the fic! Have a lovely day <3

[jjungkooksthighs]

Edacity | jjk (m)

Pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader

 Genre: platter of smut, the barest hint of fluff and the tiniest garnishment of angst / nonidol!au / college!au

 Rating: 18+ / nsfw

 Word Count: 8.2k

 Summary: After a rough day at college in your biochemistry class, you come home to your boyfriend, who is sweetly making you dinner. In his efforts to help calm you down, he only riles you up when you realize that it’s not the food you’re hungry for…it’s him.  

 Warnings: dom!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, lots of dirty talk (let’s face it I love that shit), praising, fingering, grinding, fellatio (cock sucking), cock worship (just a smidge), unprotected sex (reader has a birth control implant in her arm but Koo doesn’t like condoms, so yeah), breast/nipple play, nipping, marking via hickeys, sucking, pussy stretching, rough and possessive sex, begging, muscle kink, scratching, precum play if that’s a thing, manhandling, pinning down, cursing, wet and messy sex (kind of), degradation kink (koo calls you a slut a couple times but that’s about it), size kink, hair pulling

 A/N: This fic is brought to you by 201008 Jungkook from the “Savage Love” video he posted. I saw it, got horny and then wrote this filth. Blame him for this, not me. Also, please let me know what you guys think. Your feedback means more to me than you know. Tagging @nervouskiwi​ , @tricethecharm​ and @nightshadevinter​ per their request! 

The door to your apartment opens and shuts with a heaved sigh from you as you drop your bag to the floor with a thump, the day’s toil stemming from an unhelpful and unknowledgeable lab partner finally taking its toll on you while you rub your eyes as if to clear away the sight of the freshman boy who’d stared dumbly at the temperature probe and gas pressure sensor before asking you which was which in your biochemistry class. After that, he’d proceeded to clumsily knock over the catalase solution you were meant to measure enzyme activity with on several occasions in his ceaseless cloddishness.

 Even your professor had not noticed your lab partner’s negligence despite the seven times that you’d had to go procure a new vial of solution from the back of the classroom and when you’d asked to just do the lab alone upon finding out that your lab companion didn’t even know how to work the magnetic stirrer, your teacher still had not yielded to your plea. You had ended up doing all of the work and your efforts had gone entirely unnoticed to all but yourself. Well, almost everyone.

 “Bad day?” The mellifluous voice of your boyfriend of three years wafts over to your ears and you don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s in the kitchen directly to your left, your body instinctively wanting to seek the comfort of his warm embrace after such a long day. The sound of him already has the agitation crumbling, his voice the music to your ears that you are sure you will never tire of.

 “Terrible,” you whine, “my professor paired me with someone that didn’t even know what the equipment we were using was called. I had to do all the work.”

 “Aww…I’m sorry to hear that. Come here, babe. I’ll make it all better, yeah?” He asks.

 Your body is already moving at that and there’s the distinct clinking of a utensil against cookware that dots the space of your shared apartment. When you breathe in the succulent smell of sundubu-jjigae (one of your favorites of his) the earlier irritation is drawn away as you take in the aroma that has your stomach rumble tellingly in hunger. You really hadn’t been in want of food before you walked in, so now you’re not sure if it’s the dinner that has you craving or if it’s the person that made it.

  Wanting to look upon the source of the delicatessen, you open your eyes to find your boyfriend who is already gazing softly at you while he-with one occupied and tattooed hand-attends to the stew and it is as if the frustration is drained from you immediately as you drink in the sight of domesticity.

 His hair has been drawn up in a manbun that would be an instant panty-dropper if he went outside right now with the way that he’s left some of his chocolate brown fringe to frame each side of his face. It is wavy with the water from the shower he must’ve taken in the way that it darkly curves to the sides along his eyes and that alone has you suck in a breath. You let your eyes trail downward, your own malnourishment throughout the day causing familiar hungry desire to begin to pool heatedly within you at the visage of the black pajamas you’d bought for him a week ago after he’d ripped his previous pair apart in one particular voracious spur of energy to hastily plunge himself into the silken depths of your pussy. The striped shirt he now wears is open deliciously into a perfect ‘V’ shape that boasts the luscious expanse of his chest all the way down before tortuously stopping at the crest before his navel. He wears the matching pair of pants, their length giving a salacious view of his calves that you are sure the gods themselves must have had a hand in crafting.

  In the dimmed light of the kitchen, you can see the shadows that curl temptingly around his abdominals, your fingers inadvertently twitching against your sides in your want to touch, to feel him again.

 You know from experience how defined his chest is. You know how hot his skin is against your fingers. You know the bliss his body grants, for he has reminded you timelessly in the way that his perfect cock finds its dwelling in the wet warmth of either your mouth or your pussy as he brings you to paradise. You’re quite sure that you’ll never be able to sate yourself of him, the memory of him driving his cock into you from this morning bringing a familiar wave of desire to wash over you. You’d left him on the bed with a hardened cock after round two upon deciding to ride his thigh, thoughts of his pleading words and strained expression living in your thoughts all day long in your decision to punish him for grinding his cock into your ass so early into the morning.

 Usually he wouldn’t have gone so easy on you, but after all your texts throughout the day that were telling of your stresses, he couldn’t find it in himself to discipline you. Wanting to ensure that you felt better, he had decided to wait. After all, patience was a virtue, as you had told him before.

 Before you know it, you’re standing before him, one of his arms winding around you to pull you close as you let your irises dip from his eyes to those lips of his that must’ve been created by the devil himself in how they tempt you. Your boyfriend watches with interest, arousal coloring him internally when you look back up at him, your eyes beginning to cloud over in lust as you slide your hand down the sliver of his chest that he’s left uncovered for you. His skin receives you as if it had been waiting for this very moment, his muscles flexing proudly as you stroke the heated skin with appreciation. He’s more taut than usual under your touch which means he must have gotten back from the gym some time ago in the way that his muscles are tightly tensed from such use.

 It is that thought that has you press your lips to his in a heated kiss, your tongue sliding through his parted lips to kittenishly lick along the roof of his mouth to earn a groan from him, the sound caught between your lips and travelling with sonic speed right down to your pussy. He takes control when you try to wrap your tongue around his, the hot muscle plunging straight into your mouth as the other hand he’d been using to stir the stew abandons its earlier movements to find purchase on your ass as he squeezes you firmly between his fingers. When you disconnect, it is with a pant after the breath he has stolen from you.

 You breathe, “You’ve already made it better, Kookie, but do you want to know something?” You question as you bring your lip between your teeth, enjoying the way his eyes fix on that action as the inklings of desire begin to manifest in his eyes, in the way the soft exterior he’d been showing earlier begins to melt into something darker and far more primal under your attention.

 “Tell me, baby,” He husks as you close one hand around the silk of his shirt to bunch the fabric between your fingers as you dare to unearth the heated skin of his left pectoral, “If this is how you’re going to greet me, I would very much like to know.”

 When your mouth descends upon him to give soft, featherlight kisses along the line of his exposed chest, you manage to utter between them, “I bet the food you made for us is delicious, but the only thing I want to taste right now-” you peer up at him through a fan of dark lashes “-is you. You’re the only one who can give me what I really crave.”

 Your boyfriend’s eyes darken instantly at that, his other hand finding its place along your ass and you need no instruction to wrap your legs around him as he lifts you like you’re a feather only to prop you back down on the cold, hard countertop as he growls, “What a needy little girl you are. Didn’t have enough of this cock this morning, huh? God, you’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

 He lowers his head and you instinctively bare your neck for him, your legs spreading so he can step between them as you let your head fall back while one of his hands is already there to cup your nape in his effort to hold you there. You both keep your eyes locked on each other the whole time, desire burgeoning to life wildly within you as he peers at you with a hooded gaze while he moves torturously slow to where you want him and finally, finally, his lips find their home in a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive spot on right under your ear. 

The warmth of his mouth has you gasp, your back straightening as one of your hands finds purchase in his hair to coax him downward as you mewl, “Yes, Kookie…yes. I’m only a slut for you. It’s only ever been you.”

 You hastily unbutton his shirt while he lets you and instantly you’re salivating at the perfect canvas of him that is presented to you as the offending piece of clothing is pushed off his shoulders. Your palms, magnetized to him, splay over his abs, catching on the ridges of the defined set of muscles as they jump excitedly under your touch while you trail your hands upward. He sighs in satisfaction against your skin when the pads of your fingertips graze his dark nipples and you nearly coo at the sound of that alone.

 “That’s right, Y/N. No one else makes you this desperate, huh?”  He manages between kisses.

 You nod as much as you can in this position and you feel the way his lips turn upward in a smirk borne of the boost to his ego, his lips descending down the column of your neck in a wet trail and it is when he gets to the jugular notch between your collarbones that he presses the wet, heated muscle of his tongue to the delicate skin there that you keen, your fingers curling inward within his hair as he hisses at the pull and in punishment, nips you there. 

You are utterly powerless to stop your juices from collecting along your folds that you know is going to ruin your underwear. Without thinking, your hips begin to search for friction and you grind against him, the warm bulge of his member hardening under your ministrations.

 “A-ah, Kookie, please.” You beg for his mercy and his grin deepens as both of his hands run down your clothed arms. His mouth continues to trail across the sliver of skin over your shoulders and when his hands make another pass upward along you, you watch the way that his brows scrunch together as if disturbed by something and suddenly his devilish mouth is gone. The unforgiving cold is left in his absence and you whine at his loss, not understanding why he has stopped.

 Both of his hands settle on the countertop to either side of you as he leans forward, his tongue hotly poking against his cheek in a sight that only makes you wetter when his eyes narrow, “You smell different. Why?”

 Your boyfriend has always had a sensitive nose, but right now, you’re hardly in the mindset to think about what it is that he’s disgruntled about as you whimper, “Kook, I was doing a lab and dealing with chemicals. That’s all, okay?”

 You watch his fingers curl inward until they’re white with how hard he’s gripping the marble, his jaw setting as he hisses, “This morning you left smelling like me after I fucked you,” he grasps your chin with one hand, “Now you smell like someone else. Explain or you will get none of this cock that I know you want so bad.”

 You try to think past the haze of desire, you really do, but all you can do is blink owlishly as you try to navigate the sea of want for him that has filled your mind. Under his piercing gaze, you’re frozen in place and you swallow thickly to manage the only answer that your mind can supply with a stammer, I-I… It was my lab partner,” you watch his expression begin to contort in anger and before he can sink further into the emotion, you put both hands to either side of his face in effort to keep his attention on you, “He kept brushing against me when I was doing measurements for the assignment, Jungkook. It was nothing. He is nothing to me. I promise.”

 You hadn’t really thought of the implications of the first thing that you’d said, but you could see the momentary fury that had begun to color his very irises and wanting to quell it, you urge him close, your hands falling to rest on his chest as you plead with your eyes for him to understand. You both have been together three years and deep down, your boyfriend knows you would never betray him like that, but the lion of possession within him had roared loudly and there was little he could do to quiet it without the reassurance you had been so quick to feed it with.

 Before you have time to process anything, your shirt has been torn from your body and lands somewhere behind you, but you have no care for that right now. Instead, your focus is on Jungkook, the anger that had begun to set in his irises overtaken by something far more carnal as he orders, “Get on your knees, Y/N. I think you need to be punished for letting someone else touch what isn’t theirs. You’re mine,” he boldly wraps a hand around each breast to give a harsh squeeze, “show me you can be a good girl and suck me off until all you know is the feeling of me on your tongue.”

 His words have fresh arousal depositing itself between your thighs and with a submissive nod, your body obeys. He watches you with a darkened, lustful gaze as you lower yourself to the hardwood floor, your hands still by your sides while your boyfriend, all in one go, sheds his matching pajama pants until they puddle along his feet abandonedly. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, muscled thighs that you’ve fucked yourself on more times than you count, but your salivary glands do not fully exert themselves in hunger until your irises trail up to the thick shaft that arches deliciously upward as a constellation of veins scale along it all the way up the bulbous head that is already wet with precum. His tip rests artfully along his abdominals in some kind of lewd painting brought to life that you could stare forever and a day at, a whine coming from your lips as you lick them.

 Your boyfriend watches with interest as you ogle him and when he sees the pink of your tongue draping itself sinfully against his lip, he declares, “If you don’t get your mouth on me right now, baby, I’m going to fuck your face later, yeah?”

 That one has you moaning in thought, your boyfriend’s lips turning up in a smirk as you quickly lean forward, both hands trailing slowly up his legs and compressing around the thick, corded muscle as you do. When your hands find his member, you lightly run the tips of your fingers over his aching dick, the veins there throbbing energetically at your touch. He groans at that and then one of your hands encircles itself over his base where you gently squeeze the half of him that your fingers can reach, your other hand curling around him and stroking up and down as he grunts in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut.

 You swallow with some effort when your thumb runs over his slit to collect more of his fluid before swathing it along his glans as you ready him for your mouth. He’s already substantially hard, but you have no doubt that he will become even more so when you finally do suck him off. He really does have the world’s most perfect dick and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a thicker, bigger and better one than his. 

Granted, you’ve only ever actually seen and felt his, but you have never had a wish to have anyone else’s. You couldn’t possibly have room to want anything else when he fills you so deliciously, when he fits inside you like he was made for you.

 “Such a nice, pretty cock, Kookie…thank you for letting me have it,” you praise.

 As you bring him toward your waiting mouth, you blow out a puff of air to have him suck in a breath, his jaw clenching as one hand finds itself in your hair to guide you forward. With one final look up to his face, you take him into your mouth to watch his face contort into an expression of pleasure, his eyebrows scrunched together and his hair veiling his face to the point where you can only see his eyes based on the glint in each iris that flashes erotically at you as he takes a stuttered breath. 

Your walls clench contract around nothing as his member fills the wet cavern of your mouth while you try to take him as far as you can. Even like this, your hand still holds his base in his profound length despite the fact that you’ve gotten him as far your throat will allow.

 You’ve deep-throated him many times in the bliss that you have discovered you can grant him and now will be no different. There is nothing that you enjoy more than knowing that you alone can give him pleasure.

 When you’ve fitted him inside your mouth a little bit more, that’s when you run your tongue along his length before sucking, your cheeks hollowing out as you do. Your boyfriend’s fingers tighten in your hair as he growls, “Yeah, that’s it, baby. God, you’re so perfect for me. That little mouth takes me so fucking well.”

 You swallow around him, drawing him deeper into your throat as you all but guzzle him in your ministrations. He leaves a salty taste on your tongue in the precum that you collect and you can’t say you don’t fucking love the taste of him. You hungrily slide your tongue over his slit before kittenishly licking along the sides, a guttural moan tearing itself from the recesses of his body as he bucks under your ministrations.

 When your boyfriend opens his eyes to peer down at you, it’s enough to have his cock throb inside your wet warmth. The way that his cock disappears beyond the cradle of your lips is sin itself, but the way that you stare heatedly at him with desire simmering hotly in those irises of yours…Jungkook thinks if eroticism had a picture, you would be it right now. 

He’s just hit the back of your throat and because of that, drool has begun to pool along the sides of your mouth and fondness floods him at the sight, his thumb brushing away the spit only to lather it over your lips as he croons, “Look at my beautiful, messy girl starting to fall apart on my cock. Fuck, you’re so good for me, Y/N. Such an obedient little girl,” you suction your mouth intensely around him at that, “Think you can take me farther? I bet you can fit all of me down that tight throat of yours if you really try.”

 His praises have your walls fluttering around nothing as you engulf him impossibly farther into your mouth with another swallow, the wet slurping sounds of your ministrations filling the room as he starts to massage your head through tightened fingers that pull at the roots of it. You inhale through your nose, unable to any longer breathe through your mouth through the cock that blocks your airway and in one fluid motion, you press forward and try, but fail, not to gag around him as his dick sinks further into your throat.

 Tears instantly threaten to fall from your eyes as they water, your vision becoming blurry as you sputter against his dick. The sensation of your throat closing around him earns a hiss as he responsively thrusts his cock into you, unable to stop himself from chasing his pleasure.

 You let him fuck your mouth, enjoying the sounds of rapture that tumble freely from his mouth and content in the knowledge that you are able to gift him this euphoria. Tears are quick to fall from your eyes as you suckle him, the wide girth of him easily hitting your gag reflex in the back of your throat as you trail your tongue along the underside of his shaft while you slacken your jaw to ease his access.

 Your boyfriend coos while he watches your tits rise and falls with the efforts of your breaths, “Such beautiful tits, baby. If you hadn’t been a bad girl earlier today, maybe I could have used them as a cocksleeve. I bet you would have liked that, too, you dirty slut.” 

 You preen at his words with a moan, the vibrations of that heightening his pleasure and it is when you slide a free hand under him to grasp and fondle his balls that are extremely full in the seed that aches with need to be released that he grunts with fervor and when you roll them in your hands like dice before you gently run the pads of your fingers over them, he throws his head back, his mouth parting as he drives his cock into you one more time. With how far down his cock hits at your larynx now, you can’t see him any longer through the blurred vision as tears stream down your cheeks while you cry out his name.

 “Fu-fuck, baby. I can’t l-last much longer if you keep doing that. You really love this cock, don’t y-you? Tell me how much you love it. I w-wanna hear it with my cock in your mouth.” He manages through labored breaths.

 You hum in agreeance, the burn of his dick inherently insistent as he moves and the vibrations your sound makes has his cock throbbing dangerously as it begins to swell in warning of his impending end. He’s so hard already and your pussy aches to receive him, your walls contracting around nothing at the feel of his hot member between your lips.

 “I love it, Kookie. I love it so much. Love how big you are.” You splutter despite the very large dick currently nestled between your lips.

 You make a point to show him by swiveling your hand around what little of him is beyond the reaches of your mouth at this point while your other hand drags itself downward from his balls to rub at his perineum. That one has his back bowing inward, his fingers fisting in your hair as he groans and you can feel how his cock pulses in warning of his climax that you cannot wait to taste the fruits of as you flick your tongue along his length once, twice and then three times before suddenly, with a guttural sound, his fist pulls at your hair roughly to effectively extricate himself from your mouth as he breathes laboriously above you.

 You both watch as your spittle clings to his cock in a thin line in its attempts to remain connected to him until it sadly breaks off and away. You whimper at the loss of him, blinking up at him far too innocently for someone that just had a dick rammed down their throat and you watch the way his eyes flash cravingly at you only to rub your neglected thighs together in search of some friction.

 “As good as that was, baby,” he lowers himself down to your level to wipe away the tears that had collected along the sides of your face as he darkly declares, “there’s somewhere else that I want to cum in today and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

 You nod without a thought, his hands are quick to wrap around your waist and lift you with ease until you’re splayed out on your back for him along the countertop that is mercifully long enough to support your torso. Your legs dangle precariously off the edge, but they never reach the floor and like this, you’re granted an unfettered view of him, his now engorged dick standing to attention along his abdominals and when you peer up at his blown out irises, you release a shaky sigh in anticipation as he licks his lips like you’re a meal he’s about to fucking devour.

 “You know, I wanted to eat you out, baby. I really did,” he husks as he steps forward between your legs that you part in invitation, “but you sucked me off so good that now all I can think about is ramming this cock into you so hard that you won’t remember anything but my name and getting my fill of you until you milk me fucking dry, Y/N.”

 Arousal ignites within you at that and you pleadingly implore, “I want you to do that, gods, I do, but first, Kook…kiss me. Please, kiss me. After that, you can fuck me to your heart’s content.”

 You don’t know how you find yourself wanting even more of him, but you do. His mouth, you are sure, is the work of an incubus in the way that it can work sinfully against you. The words that tumble from them light the fires of desire within you and just want to feel the warmth of his lips again, honestly. 

 He arches a brow at this as he leans over you, one hand finding purchase along your waist as he rasps, “You want me to taste myself, baby? Is that it?”

 You can tell by the lilt in his voice that he’s playing with you and you already know this is a game he will ultimately lose, for you have a trick up your sleeve that he forever and always falls for. You let your hand slither along your body, your index finger dipping between your wet folds while he watches with a hooded gaze as you bring your soiled hand to your lips to dapple your essence over them like a lewd lipstick before you angle your chin up invitingly to beseech, “Won’t you taste me, Kookie? Don’t you want to taste us? Please,” you whine,” all I want is a kiss. No one...no one kisses me like Jeon Jungkook. Please, Kookie. I want your mouth so bad.”

 Your boyfriend brings his lip between his teeth at that as he lowers himself down to your level, his sinful irises burning heatedly into your skin as he utters, “That’s it, baby. I love it when you beg for me. So fucking hot.”

 With that, his lips descend over your own, your arms wrapping around him as you mewl into his mouth. He consumes you and drinks from you like you’re his last means of sustenance, his lips capturing yours in voraciousness as his tongue runs boldly along them in quick movements of possession before he’s sliding the wet muscle everywhere he can reach in his mission to claim the depths of your wet cavern. He can taste the remnants of himself on your tongue and with the sweet juices of your sex that you’d lathered over your lips, it’s a combination he has come to thoroughly enjoy the taste of in how well flavor of you both coalesce into something so tangy.

When he’s satisfied with his mapping of your mouth, he draws your lower lip between his teeth before suckling the tender flesh to have you gasp at the sensation.

 Distracted by that alone, you do not notice the hand of his that isn’t currently attached to your waist that snakes slowly downward to slip with ease under your grey sweatpants and between the silk panties that cover your womanhood. Your breath hitches upon the sensation of his long, tattooed fingers dragging themselves against your slit and you’re not surprised at the generous collection of your juices that make his digits glide along your folds, but he hiss he makes is delicious when he curses, “Fuck, Y/N. You’re this wet when I haven’t even touched you? God, you really are a slut for me, huh?”

 With one hand, you entangle your fingers along the hair at the nape of his neck as you breathe, “Only for you, Jungkook. This is all for you.”

 He plunges one finger inside you at your response and immediately sibilates at the way that your wet warmth welcomes his digit enthusiastically and energetically. With as wet as you are, you know that you will have no problem taking him, the considerable amount of slick between your legs tangible evidence of your need to receive and welcome him into your sex. It takes no time at all for him to add a second finger, one thumb rubbing at your clit as you moan his name, your eyes falling shut as under his ministrations. Warm waves of heat fall over you under his touch and you bask in his avid attention. Without extricating his hand from your pussy, he orders, “Take off your pants, baby. I want to see this pretty cunt while I fuck it.”

 You heed his command, one hand disconnecting from around his neck to hurriedly discard your pants and underwear along the floor in one fell swoop as your boyfriend’s hungry irises flick downward to feast upon the visage of your dripping cunt. Something about the way that his fingers disappear into your wet depths transfixes him, the squelching sounds that your pussy makes going straight to his core as arousal flares within him. Wanting to prepare you for him as thoroughly as he can, he continues to swirl his fingers over your clit in measured circles before the two fingers he’s got inside you curl inward in a come hither motion. The sensation has you throwing your head back, a stuttered cry coming from your lips as your fingers tighten in his hair and your unoccupied hand latches onto his strong bicep in search of something, anything to cling to.

 His vision darts upward to your face to catch your expression shift to one of pleasure under his touch, thick and heavy desire for you demandant in its need that manifests in the ache of his cock that pulses with need to find its home within your silken walls. He yearns for you so much now that it’s almost painful to bear it when the source of his relief is only a few inches away and, distantly, he thanks the gods above that you’d gotten a birth control implant before you’d both become intimate for there is no greater heaven, he is sure, than when he is burrowing his cock into you velveteen walls and finishing there where he belongs.

 He lowers himself to your ear, his warm breath pebbling your skin as he husks, “What do you want me to do to you, baby? Do you want this? Or,” you whimper loudly when his fingers are pulled from your pussy only to hitch your breath upon the hot, hard member he is quick to slide against your generously lubricated folds, the edges of him torturously dragging just above your waiting slit as he smirks darkly, “do you want my fat cock? Fuck, you really just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

 You mewl when he takes your earlobe between his teeth, his tip brushing along the tender bundle of nerves along your clit, words escaping you beyond his name as you manage, “Jungkook.”

 You watch as he angles himself along your sopping entrance, the continued sweep of his dick across your folds an erotic sight that has heat lather itself like honey over your core as you wrap your legs around him in answer. Words elude you like your mind is caught in his maze and with every stroke of his cock between your sensitive labia, your mind is brought to a dead-end that you have the truest of troubles navigating.

 Your boyfriend takes your silence as disobedience, both hands laying possessively over pierces you with his commanding gaze, “I asked a question, baby. I require an answer if you want to get fucked,” he punctuates this to mercilessly poke his tip against your entrance while squirm against him, “Use that pretty mouth and tell me what you want or else I’m going to tie you up and leave you crying for me on our bed while you get to watch me finish myself off with my own hand.”

 His words have fresh arousal depositing itself within your folds as you mewl, but under his ministrations that have him running his cock along your sex, his dick catches your newly released taint when you wrap your legs around him in your effort to encourage him inside and he hisses at the sensation as your labia embrace and enfold around his member as he squeezes your sides tight enough that there will be marks there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips.

“Tell me now, Y/N, or you’re going to be punished. You’ve been so good, baby. Do you really want to be naughty now?” He rasps as he uses the grip he has on your hips to pull you even closer, the promise of sin flashing dangerously in his eyes through the fringe that falls along them.

 Powerless to resist his demand, you submissively whisper, “Want …want your big cock. Want you to fuck me so good with it that I can’t walk and for you to paint my pussy with your seed. God, Jungkook, I want you so much right now. Can I please, please have your cock inside me?”

 Your boyfriend leans up to tower imposingly and commandingly over you, excitement flourishing within you in the anticipation of what he’s about to do to you as he smirks while he angles himself toward your entrance and with a flick of a dark brow, he warns, “Prepare yourself, baby, because I’m not going to go easy on you. I’m going to fucking ruin you because that’s what you deserve for getting me so fucking hard for you, (Y/N).”

 That is all the caution he gives you before, all in one go, he propels his length inside you with a sharp thrust of his hips. You moan as he enters you and he doesn’t stop until he’s fully sheathed within you, his tip just barely missing the cluster of nerves hidden within your center as your mouth parts in an ‘o’ shape.

 Your walls greet him eagerly and envelop him with fervor only to cause him to groan, “Fuck, baby. How are you still this tight after I fucked your little cunt this morning and last night?”

 Lost in the sensation of him buried within you, you can’t find the words to answer him when he starts to impel himself into you without abandon, his irises glazing over in desire as he chases his pleasure. Like this, his bangs hang heavily over him and flit back and forth frenziedly in his ministrations, but you can see his eyes in their entirety now and their darkness seeps straight into your core in the lust that simmers there.

 Captured in his consuming gaze, you notice the way that his irises dip from your own to the neglected breasts that bounce in the jostling movement he wracks on you, heat licking up your spine when you watch the tip of his pink tongue hungrily dart across his lips to wet them. Before you realize what’s happened, his hot mouth is upon one of your mounds, his lips suctioning your tit against him with avid voracity as he leaves a purple petal to blossom there under his ministrations. It joins the myriad of others that he’s left from your previous couplings like brands over your skin and you relish in the new addition that marks you as his.

 “Shit, I love your tits so much. So soft and warm in my mouth. You really do have the most beautiful breasts, baby.” he mutters as you close your eyes at the sensation of him on you, your fingers leaving their own claim on him as you claw your nails down his back while he pounds into you with vigor. He seems to approve with the way that he speeds his movements like the rabbit he reminds of while in some kind of heat. You throw your head back when his velvety lips enclose around your areola, his hot tongue flicking against your pert nipple unrelentingly as you buck underneath him with a weak, broken mewl. The sinful chuckle that erupts from him is felt before it is heard, the deep thrum of the vibrations dripping right through you and straight to your core that clenches around him in response.

 “Please…” You breathe out the only word that can come to mind through the haze of hormones that now cloud your vision.

 When you sink one hand into his locks once more to pull at his hair, he makes a sound of disapproval,  blown irises heating you like a furnace as he focuses his sight on you when he growls, “I’m not done yet, Y/N. I’m going to suck these pretty nipples of yours until they’re  fucking swollen because of me. These,” he blows a warm puff of air against the sensitive areola of your left tit,” are mine. You need to be reminded of that.”

 You whimper at that, his other hand palming at your other breast while he rolls your nipple with practiced ease between his fingers. When he punctuates a particularly acute slam of his hips into you with a long, wetted lick of his tongue in a stripe over your engorged bud, that’s what has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you wail, his dick hitting your g-spot with precision that tears the sound from your throat in the way that he pairs it with an agonizingly delicious ministration of his tongue.

 He suckles you through it all and when the warmth of his mouth finally leaves you, your breast is freed from him with a ‘pop’ from between his lips and don’t see the way that he’s painted you with his spit, nor the way that he peers longingly at the engorged, abused nipple he’s left in his wake before he’s moving to the other to latch onto your neglected tit like a newborn trying to coax the life-giving essence of milk from you. You cry out when he decides to nip at you, the hand that he’s left on your hip gripping you roughly in effort to keep you in place against his fierce thrusts of his hips inside you.

 Before long, you feel your nipple harden under his ministrations and with a groan, he releases you from his mouth only to rise and watch your freshly marked breasts move laboriously up and down in your strained breaths, the gleam of his spit shining prominently under the dimmed lights in the kitchen. Your neck is arched back and your eyes are screwed shut in the picture of submission as you let him use you for his pleasure while he continues to pound into you with the strength of an ox every single time.

 You feel fingers grasping your chin to urge you to angle your chin downward as he commands, “Look at me, Y/N. When you’re getting fucked by me, you’re going to watch me and keep those pretty eyes on me so you can burn it into that head of yours that there’s only one man who can make you feel this good.”  

 If you weren’t panting before, you surely are now as your body heeds his demand, his words playing you like an instrument as heat coils heavily in your core as you take him in cravingly while he coos, “That’s a good girl. So obedient.”

  He’s leaning above you now, the muscles of his chest flexing and contracting as he rolls his hips piercingly into you to hit just the right spot time and time again, euphoria steadily building each time. His hair, from all of your attention, is mussed and somehow the man bun he’d been sporting before is looser to allow more of his chocolate tresses to frame his face, his lips reddened from lavishing on your breasts. Sweat sluices his skin everywhere, which somehow makes him even more irresistible as you urge him down for another kiss.

 He denies you at first, deciding to smirk cockily as he angles his head and in the movement, you notice the attractive tint of rosiness to his cheeks in the blood that has rushed there through his earlier efforts as he clucks his tongue, “Words, baby. Use that mouth of yours and maybe you’ll get what you want.”

 You whine as he rams into you, your vision jerking upward as you wrack your brain to formulate some kind of response through the sea of lust that resides there now. Somehow, you manage, “I-I want another kiss.”

 His fingers sink deeper into your waist as he prods, “Yeah? Where do you want my mouth, angel?”

 In answer, you take the hand he isn’t holding you with, your digits wrapping around his index finger as you bring it to your mouth to breathe, “Here,” you lower your joined hands in a slow trail down your throat that contradicts the rapid thrusts he impels you with,” here,” you drag his hand through the valley of your breasts until it’s splayed possessively over your stomach, “and here. I want you everywhere, Kookie. Please.”

 Your boyfriend licks his lips as he lowers himself down once more to your level as he husks, “Fuck, the things that you do to me, baby. You’ll get what I decide to give you, yeah?”

 His mouth descends upon you in a French kiss that puts others to shame, his traitorous tongue leaving no part of your mouth untouched and wrapping possessively around your own in a show of dominance that you have no wish to resist. He presses his lips insistently over yours, consuming you in his wet heat that you relinquish your own mouth to. The hand that had been draped along your side before slides along your waist to relish in your contours, his other hand moving behind your head to hold you there as he drinks his fill of you.

 When he breaks for air, you’re breathing heavily and he gives you no time to recover before heavy, lingering kisses are rained down along your jawline and then he’s descending like a stream down the frontal column of your previously marked throat from last night’s exploits with him. He lathers his mouth over you in open-mouthed kisses, his tongue brushing over your sensitive skin while he keen, your back arching up and into him as you press your naked chest against his own to earn a hiss from him while he continues to pound into you relentlessly.

 His name leaves your lips in a stuttered breath, “Jungkook.”

 Your boyfriend croons, “Be good for me and take it, baby. If you do, I’ll let you cum around my cock.”

Your feel your core tighten and clench compactly around him when his mouth trickles down between your breasts, adding a few more hickeys on the way so that there are now entire constellations of his marks in mottled purples and reds all along your body. When he manages to get to your stomach, that’s when he administers a closed-mouthed kiss that is made domineering by the way his irises peer hotly at you before he parts his lips to lick heatedly above the area of your navel as you whimper out.

 With his face inches from your own, you can see the blown out irises that stare hungrily at you, your gaze thirsting to drink him in as the sounds of your coupling fill your ears. With every roll of his hips into you, his balls slap against your pussy mercilessly in combination with the lewd squelches his dick makes as it drives itself into you without pause. 

He rams into you now with the might of ten men, your core tightening around him as he groans in his ministrations. He pulls you into him with the hand that is wrapped around your side, your moans joining his when the hand he’d been holding your head with snakes heavily down your body in a hot trail from your neck and then down to your abdomen before stopping torturously just before your glistening folds. 

 You wrap your fingers around his wrist to urge him where you need him most as you breathe, “C-close, Kookie. I’m almost there. Please, let me cum.”

 Your walls are beginning to tense around him with your impending end and he knows how to play your body like an instrument to get it to sing the tune he wants. He watches you plead with your eyes imploringly at him while he denies you what he knows you want most, instead choosing to plunge himself inside you especially hard to cause you to cry out. There is nothing quite like your pussy, nothing quite like the way that you suck him in and refuse to let him go until you’ve ensured that he has released inside you like an uncontrollable pubescent boy learning how to come for the first time.

 You make him ravenous and in that appetence, the ambrosia that is you is a delicacy he will never grow tired of. So, he indulges in you and lets himself enjoy your sweet depths for as long as he can until you’re screaming nothing but his name in your need to come undone, your thighs trembling from under him as you curl your fingers unyieldingly around his wrist.

 He finally obliges you, his thumb pressing deeply down onto your clit as you wail in pleasure before he’s quickly drawing figure-eight patterns along the bundle of nerves as he pistons in and out of you deliciously. Your walls begin to quiver with your oncoming end and knowing this, your boyfriend stares zealously at you to darkly command, “Come on, baby. Cum for me. Cream all over this cock that you love so much.”

 It takes one final slam of his hips into you to have his cock bury itself so deep inside your pussy that it perfectly presses against your g-spot while his fingers rapidly attend to your clit before your body instinctively heeds his order, spots erupting behind your eyelids as thousands of tiny, warm presses inside your sex signal your orgasm while you throw your head back, your eyes still locked on him as your mouth parts and you shriek his name out for the entire apartment complex to hear as your climax explodes with the intensity of a firecracker within you.

 He groans at that to utter, “That’s right, baby. Let everyone know who has fucked you so good. Tell them all who owns you.”

 Your walls flutter and spasm deliciously around him and your boyfriend grunts at the sensation, loving the way you wrap around him like your pussy was made for this and before he knows it, he’s throbbing and following behind you with his own release as he colors your walls with his creamy seed in violent, energetic bursts.

 “Mine. You’re mine,” he repeats over and over as you both ride out your orgasms.

 You wrap your arms tighter around him to give him a light peck along his jaw as you say, “Yes, Kookie. I’m all yours. I love you so much.”

 He catches his breath as you fondly wipe away the sweat that has collected in beads along his forehead while you tenderly tuck his fringe behind one ear before he earnestly tells you, “I love you more.”

 Sometime later he feeds you the stew he made for you as you moan in delight at the warm trickle of it down your throat while he spoons it to you from your place  on his lap. Your sounds of enjoyment had been quick to get him hard underneath you as you’d knowingly fidgeted in effort to drag your ass over his member that you found yourself longing for once again. Your antics had proven successful in the fervid way he’d eaten you out like a five course meal before you fed him the dessert of your sweet juices before he’d dragged you to the bedroom for round three. 

Hours after that find you both well into the night with the window open so that the moonlight can spill in on the two of you atop your shared bed. You are sure to remind him just how much you love him then when he wakes to find you grinding on top of him as you welcome him once more into your wet warmth that has only and will only ever belong to him.

[piquedpequod]

“Lonely Triple Agent,” or, “songs to play while apart from the man you are forgetting and remembering at once.” (Ocelot fanmix circa/post-TPP, all tracks from the 80s.)

Listen: (Youtube | Spotify)

Lyrics:

Mr. Disco – New Order How can I ever forget you You don't know Just what I've been through

I can't find my peace of mind Because I need you with me all of the time I used to think about you night and day I used to feel what language cannot say

I Could Show You How – Naked Eyes You've been away for so long You walked out on me There's no communication No letters for me And I wish that I could break this chain of reaction Turn my feelings into action If I only had you here now I could show you how

Two Divided By Zero – Pet Shop Boys (Two divided by zero, zero) (Divided by, divided by...) I think they heard a rumour Or someone tipped them off It’s better to go sooner Than call it all off

Crime of Passion - SPK These are the times when reason rules Knowledge is power, but power makes fools It seems to make no difference what we love We always hurt the one we love the most At night, you push me to the brink We've gone too far and now there's no return

It's a crime, give into this emotion It's a crime of passion It's a cold perpetual emotion It's a call to passion

Behind the Mask - Yellow Magic Orchestra Now the mask you're wearing Is stony and staring Lines and tears, age and fears Growing old, passions cold

There is nothing in your eyes That marks where you cried All is blank, all is blind Dead inside, the inner mind

Is it me, is it you Who wears another face Is it me, is it you Behind this mask, I ask

The Damned Don't Cry - Visage Traveling with no destination No place to go Nameless towns with faceless people No place I know

Time to close my mind and drift off To other scenes

Moments pass by, oh so slowly Makes me lonely too Twisting street light, in the darkness Makes me lonely too

Your Name (Has Slipped My Mind Again) - Ultravox It's hard to focus in this light I'm growing warm and feeling dull The heartbeat pounds with vicious fright There's something I remember I clench my fist but feel no sensation The walls around me spin and sway A flash back image in my vision I remember...

Oh, your name has slipped my mind again

Second Skin - The Chameleons One cold damp evening The world stood still I watched as I held my breath A silhouette I thought I knew Came through, someone spoke to me Whispered in my ear This fantasy's for you Fantasies are in this year

My whole life flashed, before my eyes I thought, what they say is true I've shed my skin And my disguise And cold and naked I Emerged from my cocoon And a half-remembered tune Played softly in my head, he said

He turned smiling And he said: I realize a miracle is due I dedicate this melody to you

Love My Way – Psychedelic Furs Love my way, it's a new road I follow where my mind goes So swallow all your tears, my love And put on your new face You can never win or lose If you don't run the race

Stripped – Depeche Mode You're breathing in fumes I taste when we kiss Take my hand Come back to the land Where everything's ours For a few hours

Let me see you Stripped down to the bone Let me hear you speaking Just for me

Mighty Shiver – The Twins And you know, I don’t ask whether I work too hard, when we’re together And you know, I won’t give in Until the last game is up And chances are nil I feel a mighty shiver It grips my mind in a vise like ice I feel a mighty shiver I feel fear but it feels so, so nice

Secret Separation – The Fixx We are passengers in time Lost in motion, locked together Day and night, by trick of light But I must take another journey We must meet with other names We must meet with other names

I'll bear one precious scar that only you will know

It’s Alright (Baby’s Coming Back) – Eurythmics And I'll be (your sharp intake of breath) And I'll be (your work, I'll take no rest) And when the world falls to decline I'll be yours and you'll be mine

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

(lmao at the progression of >before MGSV comes out: ooh drama! drama! let’s have all the doom & gloom! to >after playing MGSV: ocelot’s got new levels of screwy mind games to play with BB? kinky. time to crank the synths)

started may 2016, fin. april 2022.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

mother’s care

summary: spencer leaves his mother in y/n’s care, but with her violent outbursts she severely injures y/n

word count: 3,331                                                                                     reading time aprox: 13 mins

masterlist

It had been a few days since Spencer had left his mother in my care, and it had been more than a few days since my conscience was clear of worry. The pressing dichotomy between Spencer’s family and work life had been putting a strain on the quality of his life, in which I took it upon myself, with the highest sense of internal deliberation, to offer my services. The thought of lessening the weight on Spencer’s shoulders was the only thing keeping my motivation alive; other than the innate responsibility I had to care for my future mother-in-law. Witnessing the gravity of Spencer’s tired eyes shift into a brighter gleam as he was relieved of being tethered at home, made the strenuous work I endured worthwhile. But the thought could only do so much considering Diana’s behavior became exponentially volatile. 

Spencer had just left for work only hours ago when Diana’s delusions became rampant, her paranoia increasing along with it. “Y/N! Y/N! We have to go now, they’re coming for us!” She yelled frantically while flailing her arms sporadically. “W-we have to hide- we- I- we can’t trust anyone Y/N! Call Spencer!” She rushed towards the peephole of the front door, slamming her palms against the wooden frame. “Where’s my son?!” She screamed profusely. 

In urgency, I grabbed a hold of her wrists to restrict her from hurting herself as she did a few days ago. “Diana- hey, stop that- Diana it’s me Y/N” I struggled to fight against her resistance as she persisted to bludgeon the door with all her might. “Diana! Please! Loo- Look it’s me, I promise!” I urged, finally ceasing her attacks and calming her down to a manageable temper. 

Then just a moment later, all of her anger dissipated as if nothing had occurred previously. “Oh! Hello there Y/N, when did Spencer let you in?” She inquired, ridding herself of my grasp and laying herself down on the couch. I sighed, propping myself up on the back of the door as I composed myself. “Oh my gosh, my scrapbook” She stated in bewilderment, glancing at the book of memories on the coffee table that Spencer had placed to induce her recollection of events. 

“Yes it is” I smiled, pushing the previous outburst aside with an understanding temperance. “Would you like to look through it?” I suggested, making slow strides towards the book that was, now, well adjusted on her lap. 

“That would be nice” She replied sweetly with a giddy smile. She took my suggestion as a notion to begin exploring the scrapbook, flipping through the beginning pages of the memoir. “Would you look at this Y/N!” She excitingly pointed at a picture of a young boy while I settled next to her on the plain colored couch. With an extensive observation of the picture she was referencing, I had come to find out that the little boy was no other than Spencer himself. 

She shook her head in remembrance as I observed her deep in reminiscence, admiring how, for just a moment, clarity had filled her heart and mind. “This was Spencer’s first chess tournament when he was only five years old” She regaled, speaking of her pride and joy in his youth. “At five years old, the boy won against men that were ten times his age- can you believe that!” She expressed, an incredulous smile etching on her lips as she flipped to the next page. 

“Spencer had told me that he had won his first tournament at age four” I added jokingly as the atmosphere began to regain a more pleasant air. I reached for a throw pillow that resided on the end of the couch, tucking it between my knees and chest for comfort. 

“That silly boy” She teasingly scoffed in disbelief as she racked through her distinct memories; shaking her head at the utterance of my words. “He had lost his first chess match when he was four, but he was too proud to ever accept defeat” She explained, flipping through several pages as she spoke. I chucked in response, understanding the familiar- or might I say all too familiar- discourse of Spencer’s intelligent pride. 

“Oh Y/N, dear, look at this with me” She beckoned me to take notice of a picture of a man on a tightrope, only the man’s face was replaced by an old cut-out of Spencer’s young visage. “Did you know that he wanted to be a tightrope walker?” She revealed, laying a gentle hand on the paper memory. 

“I thought he wanted to be a magician?” I inquired.

“Oh, that was afterwards-” She proceeded to pat my thigh in a motherly manner as if I was her own child. “-after he fell off of our fence in the backyard” She chuckled, meeting my amused gaze with her own. I let her sink into her own world, satisfied with her sedated state of mind as I made my way towards my phone to check the time. 

3:28 p.m.

Unfortunately, that meant I had to pull Diana from her comfortable space to give her the medication prescribed from the clinic and the experimental drug that Spencer had placed her on. “Hey Diana” I softly whispered, gaining her attention. “It's time to take your medication” I informed her with an apologetic look. 

“Nah, I don’t like the medicine that Spencer’s been giving me” She waved off casually with a grimace on her face. “They taste awful” She didn’t look up from the book once, disregarding the task that needed to be done. 

“Please Diana” I pleaded, heading to the kitchen cupboards to acquire her prescriptions; going to Spencer’s dresser to fetch the experimental drugs that were included in her regime. “Spencer had strict orders for me and you know how he gets” I playfully insinuated in the hopes of lighting up the tense ambiance. I continued to sift through Spencer’s cabinets- which was an absolute abhorrence to look at, let alone scavenge through- in the means of finding Diana’s prescriptions. 

“Shit” I quietly cursed as some household items fell onto the floor, emitting a loud crash. 

“WHAT WAS THAT!” Diana shrieked in terror, disturbed by the sudden disruption that sounded throughout the entire apartment. The sound of a heavy thud from a book in the next room followed Diana’s deafening shrills of panic, indicating that the crash had triggered another break from reality. “Y/N! Y/N! WHAT’S GOING ON- WHERE AM I?!” She cried in her unnerved state, stampeding into the kitchen as if her life depended on it. 

“He-hey it’s okay Diana-” I dropped the prescriptions on the kitchen counter in a hurry, ignoring the mess, to prioritize Diana’s abrupt outburst. “You’re here in Spencer’s apartment- your son’s apartment- with m-me. Look Di- Diana! Look you’re here with me” I reassured her once again. Although that didn’t put a stop to her labored breathing, trembling hands, and distraught eyes. 

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY SON’S APARTMENT!” She vehemently spat in the midst of her frenzy. 

I grabbed the medication off of the counter in a haste, preparing to have them in hand for a window of opportunity in administering them. “Diana- please- Diana, it’s me Y/N- you have to take your medication” I negotiated with her, keeping my tone as amiable as I can. 

“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” She threatened, picking up one of Spencer’s textbooks and flinging it at the wall behind me. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Items continued to soar through the air until Diana began to hysterically strike herself on the forehead. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling at the sides of her hair. 

Without a second thought, I leaped to restrain her from further self-inflicting damage. “Hey Diana- Sto-stop that!” I pried her hands away from herself, balancing the prescription bottles in my hand whilst wrestling against her sporadic movements. “DIANA!” I yelled, feeling my chest heave in exasperation; her provocation of my patience wearing my understanding countenance thin. 

The booming sound of my voice infiltrated Diana’s sensitive ears, similar to one of a gunshot, making her cover her ears instinctively. “SHUT UP! GET AWAY FROM ME!” She wailed, her tone wavering as she enunciated her words. She forced her eyes shut once again, shaking her head while whispering a mantra to herself. 

“Diana...Please” I pleaded, softening my voice in guilt. I uncapped the prescriptions, taking out a few pills to showcase the medication essential to her condition. “If you just take your medicine, you’ll feel better- I promise- please!” I affirmed, taking close observation to her present behavior. She began unraveling from her mental cloud, taking frequent peeks at the pills that lay on my hand. With a tentative reach, she reached out for the drugs and retracted her arm as soon as she had taken possession of them.  

“Yes, Diana, they’ll make you feel better-” I sighed in relief, watching her examine the pills in her hand. “Do you want me to get you water? I- NO DIANA! STOP!” I halted mid sentence, the action of Diana pelting the wall with her pills impeding my ability to coerce her further. By instinct I picked up the pills in a frenzy of indignation, a slew of reprimands impulsively falling out of my lips, like a mother would to her petulant child.  

“What are you doi- DIANA! Why would you do that? I’m just trying to- STOP! I’M JUST TRYING TO HE-” 

A whiff of cold air glided through Diana’s fingers that followed her right hand. For a moment I felt time still, yet it took me an eternity to process the event that had unfolded in front of me- or which I would say to me. My cheek began to blare an ugly rouse, the painful sensation of throbbing encompassing the entirety of the left side of my face. I clutched my cheek in shock and confusion, unable to process her potent and unforeseen capabilities. “I- i, uh-” I stumbled over my tongue, my mind impuissant in regards to its verbal-cognitive skills. 

“JUST GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

In the last attempt of Diana’s impulse driven self-defense, she forcefully shoved me back into the dining table resulting in the wooden edge piercing my spine. I groaned in pain, clutching onto the end of the table as another slew of curses fell from my mouth. In the midst of the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I didn’t notice the stream of blood profusely flowing out of a large gash on my wrist where my veins were located. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I panicked, inspecting a metal screw that protruded from beneath the table; the spiral tip now covered in blood and leftover skin. I rushed for my phone and a towel to ease the bleeding, although it was evident that I needed medical attention. Instinctively I dialed Spencer’s number on my phone with the hopes that he would pick up, although due to my misfortune, the call went into voicemail indicating his unavailability. 

By this time, Diana had left the room and locked herself in the bathroom; despite my constant worry of her being, all of my attention had been on contacting medical aid. With a brisk call, paramedics were being sent to the apartment and police officers to document the scene. I whined in pain while the hands on an analog clock, that hung in the kitchen, moved at a snail’s pace, my vision slowly dissipating as my blood enveloped the oak floor. 

I began whispering a comforting mantra to myself- or maybe it was all in my head- that Penelope had taught me. “Sa, Ta, N-na, Mm…” I shook my head to retain my consciousness, the black curtain between my blinks growing in duration. It felt as if my pupils had dilated and pulsed continuously, feeling every nerve in my body weaken along with my frail muscles. 

I hadn’t even noticed the paramedics bursting into the living room, let alone the doorbell ringing to indicate their presence. In a few slips of consciousness, two men in uniforms were placed in front of me to my aid. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am can you hear me?” One of them spoke, although with the combination of stampeding feet and muffled voices I wasn’t able to distinguish a coherent phrase. 

Suddenly with an unexpected shock of adrenaline, I was able to slightly ground myself in reality. “C-call Re-reid, Spencer Reid- FBI” I sputtered out, squinting my eyes at the medical kit that they placed on the floor. “Ple-please, Spen- AH” I whimpered, the paramedics applying alcohol to disinfect the wound. 

I directed my focus away, only for my eyes to land on Diana being taken away by a few police officers and a social worker. She was kicking in screaming, evidently in the middle of her psychotic break from before. She thrashed against the police officers restraints, scared out of her mind as she yelled her son’s name. 

“St-stop” I whispered, catching the gaze of one of the paramedics. “Sh-she’s- fuck- she needs help, she has Schizophrenia and Alzheimer” I informed them, watching their eyes go wide in surprise; one of them rushing off to spread the message to the officers. 

They carefully let her out of their hold, letting her scurry into a confined corner of the room before contacting her emergency contact: Spencer. The sole paramedic continued mandatory procedure with me, placing pressure on the gash while eavesdropping on the scene that unfolded behind him. 

“Spencer? That’s who you want to call right?” The man inquired. 

I nodded in response, grasping his arm. “Please hurry” I managed to say, letting my eyes lull into the back of my head in the attempt to relax. 

Finally in the midst of the chaos, a lanky figure flurried into the doorway in alacrity. His eyes first landed on his mother who was being approached by apprehensive officers, in which he informed them, again, of his mother’s condition; with this the police force let the man run over to his mother to sedate her. 

Then, his eyes fixated on my wavering gaze as he took a moment to take in the scene that laid in front of him. 

“Oh my god, oh my GOD Y/N” He lamented, rushing over to where me and the paramedic were situated. “Y/N- I- Oh my god, I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t hav-” Spencer rambled on, his somber eyes flickering from my face to my wrist. 

“Spencer, please don’t worry...I’ll be fine, go check on your mother. She needs you right now” I muttered. Although it seemed that he didn’t hear anything of what I had said as he continued to ramble through his anxious spiel. 

“I-i got your call, but I sent it to voicemail- I didn’t think- I- I didn’t know it was important- then I got the emergency call from my mot- I- I should’ve answer- Oh my god, I wasn’t there” He punished himself, squeezing his eyes in regret. 

“Spenc-” I attempted to interrupt, although was cut off when the paramedic had informed him that  needed to be transported to the hospital. 

-

After my check ups were done, the team swarmed into the hospital room in a flurry, but with no Spencer in sight. 

“Oh my god! Y/N I’m so glad you’re okay- I’m sure one of my hugs will make you feel extra better” Penelope rushed over to the side of my bed giving me an awkward, yet comforting, hug. 

JJ took this as an opportunity to inform me of my condition, explaining how the wound would take some time to heal, but everything else was fine. I nodded in gratitude, basking in the family that stood in front of me.

“You had us all worried Y/L/N” Hotch added, giving me a cordial nod. 

“Especially pretty boy” Morgan continued. “I’ve never seen him run out of the room so fast. But, I’m glad you’re okay” He comforted me, taking a stance next to Garcia. On cue, Spencer crept in the room with a melancholy, yet relieved expression on his face.

“Speaking of…” Emily trailed off, taking notice of Spencer’s immediate presence. “Let’s give them space” She filed the team out of the room to give me and Spencer privacy. 

The second they were out of sight he engulfed me in a crushing hug, whispering sweet apologies to me. He grasped my face in his hands, placing long kisses on my forehead as a form of consolation. “I’m so sorry Y/N” He sighed, keeping my face and his at an approximate distance. “I should’ve never left you” He antagonized himself, shutting his eyes in search of penance within himself. 

“Hey” I whispered, making him open up his eyes gracefully. “Spencer, you shouldn’t be sorry, it's your mom for god sake- she’s my family too- I would’ve done it again even if you didn’t ask me to” I reassured, drawing small patterns on the dip of his palm. 

“But she- I should’ve warned y-”

“Spencer, you have no control over what she does or how she is. Stop blaming yourself for not being there” I stated, pulling at his arm in a motherly manner. “Come here” I instructed him, tugging at the sleeves of his dress shirt. 

I pulled him into a gentle kiss in the hopes of making his self-reproaching thoughts dissipate. He was tentative in kissing me, letting himself hover over my lips as if I were to crack like porcelain if he were to give him. I gave him a gentle peck on the corner of his mouth as silent reassurance, pressing my forehead against his. 

He understood the message and pressed a long awaited kiss on my lips that made the entire room collapse into nothingness. The warmth that radiated off of Spencer making the interaction more visceral. He lingered in the moment for a few seconds before we parted, staring at me with a woeful look. Although through his somber visage, his love shone through the dark clouds that were present in his eyes. 

“I love you so much Y/N and I-” He paused, sighing in recollection of the events that had unfolded. “I just love you so much- you and my mother- and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there” He apologized, running his thumb over my knuckles as he stared at my bandaged arm. 

“But you’re here now Spencer” I interjected, reminding him to look forward and not back. “Where’s your mom?” I inquired, giving him a soft smile. 

“She’s with her nurse right now” He cringed, his mind not leaving the dark thoughts that enveloped his brain. A slight frown made its way onto my lips as I subconsciously reminded him of the state of his mother. 

“I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay Y/N” He reassured. 

Silence ensued before he cupped his hand over my hands, basking in the image of me laying in a hospital bed in front of him. 

“You and-” He paused, collecting his words. 

I encouraged him to continue, squeezing his hand. 

“Y/N. You and my mother are the most important things in the world- no- beyond lifetimes to me” He professed. 

“Spence-” 

“No Y/N- I want to tell you because I don’t know what happens tomorrow. But, all I know is that I love you wholeheartedly and no statistics can explain my exponentially growing love for you” He joked. 

I joined him in his amusement, listening to his words with intent as the atmosphere of the room returned to a more sincere air.

“I love you so much Y/N- and I know that I don’t get to tell you often because I’m always away- but Y/N Y/L/N, you have my whole heart in your hands-” He leaned in, tucking a stray hair away from my rosy cheeks. “-I know you tell me to not worry, but there’s nothing else I can do but worry when it comes to you” He continued. 

“Y/N...you’re my absolute everything and you’ll be damned if you think otherwise” 

-

A/N: 

i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been writing frequently because i’m preparing for school, but i hope you enjoy it. 

[fanaticartisan]

He’d never slipped in a trial before.

He faced seemingly endless terrains, in the eternal darkness of The Entity’s realms. Snow and grass, concrete and stone, slick with rain or sticky with blood, none of them had ever made him so much as falter, in trails past. He paced over them all, his booted stride unstoppable, as steady as a wave cutting through an endless ocean.

But today it was mud, and as the survivor he’d been hounding flailed over the stone ledge and he followed, his boot hit something hidden in the sludge. His foot slipped, and between the weight of his metal head and the shiver of something spiteful in the air, he wasn’t able to keep himself from falling. He hit with a splat of hollow iron on wet earth, stars bursting before his vision as the wind left him in a gurgling rush. 

For a moment he lay there, stunned. Rain pattered down, cold against his iron face, cold against his blood-caked skin. And then, finally, he choked in a breath of moist, muddy air, and stirred, trying to rise. His body hurt. The mud was slick under his hands as he attempted to push himself up. Worst of all, his face was well and truly stuck - one of the large, planar sides sunk an inch or two into the muck.This was a punishment, he was sure. Small, petty, cruel - something more subtle than The Entity’s usual means, but frustrating enough nonetheless. Unless - and the thought chilled him more than the cold water seeping into his clothes - unless he was just losing his edge, like a blade hammed too many times against a hard, dull surface.

Impossible. He sank down again, a low growl rumbling from his throat. He’d never faltered in his duty. He was the Executioner - the punisher of the guilty, inflicting pain upon those who had caused pain, and torment upon those who had tormented. He’d pursued such foes long before The Entity had brought him here, and he’d performed with righteous determination, even to the degree of ignoring his new master’s will when necessary, to get the job done.

Maybe that was why...

Something flashed out of the corner of his eye. He stopped struggling, falling still as steps and whispers drew closer, just outside the field of his vision. A snarl of anger coiled in his chest: the wicked dared approach him! He needed to stand, to run them through with his blade and punish them for their countless days of wrongs and cruelty; pallets smashed against his face, blinding light shined into his eyes, sharp stones driven into his flesh. He wanted to hack them all to pieces, Entity and its hooks be rotted.

But he was still stuck - still aching and short of breath. It would take too much struggle to get up and after them, even assuming he could free himself on his own. Rather than hear their mocking laughter at his torment, he lay in silence, waiting for them to pass, hoping that his stillness and the filth that covered him would be enough to hide him from their prying eyes and shining lights.

He should have remembered that The Entity glutted itself on hope. And despair.

“Hey, guys! Look...”

A light shone against his back. 

“Is that..?”

“It is! But what’s he doing?”

“Is he alright?”

“Hey….” someone nudged his boot, and he growled in warning. If only his blade were in his hand….

“Don’t touch him!”

“Is he hurt? I’ve never seen him fall before.”

“Scary…”

“We should finish up the gens and get out of here.”

A silence as the rest of the group considered this. Yes, he thought bitterly, finish your tasks and be returned again. He would fell them like the rotten trees they were. He strained to reach his blade, but it was too far, several inches out of his reach.

“Careful, he’s moving!”

“I think if he could hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“Maybe his back is broken.”

A thrill of fear went through him at that idea. He didn’t feel broken, but…

“The entity will take care of him. Just leave him be, and let’s get out of here.”

“You guys go.”

A silence. Out of the corner of his vision, The Executioner could see their forms, all as dirty and worn as himself, turn and look at the speaker.

The Executioner didn’t know their names. He didn’t know anything about them at all, he realized, not their faces nor connections, or even what crimes had brought them here. The visage of the speaker was dirty, scared, but determined, even when greeted with the accusing stares of their teammates.

“You’re crazy.”

“Always crazy.”

“You can use my medkit.”

The namecallers fell silent, staring at the forth survivor. A small, metallic clank of red metal hitting the ground filled the space between them. The crazy survivor smiled, a small, grateful thing, and for the first time, in years of violence in cold, The Executioner felt something new.

A seed of doubt, lodged deep in his core.

 What had the survivors done, to warrant the punishment he inflicted on them?

The others moved off, their feet sucking and splatting in the mud. He was left with the crazy one, who remained behind him, opening the medkit, presumably checking its contents.

“I’m going to touch your back, and look for damage” they said.

The Executioner rumbled a threat, but didn’t move, even as the survivor bent over him and he felt gentle, warm fingers probing his spine.

“All this blood,” the survivor murmured. “Is it yours?”

It was, for now. The corners of his face were iron and sharp, and every time a pallet slammed into him, they cut deeper into the flesh of his shoulders. He couldn’t explain this to the survivor, though, so he said nothing.

“I don’t know if spines should bend this way,” the survivor said, lingering somewhere at the small of his back. “I don’t feel anything broken or swollen, so I assume it’s just how you are. Or how you’ve become.” The survivor shifted a bit, looking at the blade lying just out of his reach in the muddy grass. “You wear that metal thing, and drag your sword around. I’ve seen you prop it up, when you think no-one is looking. Even one of them would be heavy, on their own, but you always have both…well. It’s enough to explain your back, anyway.”

He growled a little. Of course they were heavy - heavier with each death he caused. Just as he punished the damned, so too he was punished, in turn, for the pain he caused. But he wouldn’t expect a human to understand that.

The hands remained on his back a moment, warm against the chill of the weather and damp. “Are your legs hurt?” the survivor asked. “Your neck?”

The Executioner hesitated a moment. And then he sighed, the noise wet with mud and rainwater. He shifted his weight, slowly, so as not to startle the crazy one, and made a show of pushing against the ground, unable to budge his suctioned-down face.

“Oh, I understand. Okay, just...hold still a moment, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The survivor changed their position, working their hands - fingers worn and calloused from endless hours working on generators - into the muck, and under the edge of his triangular face. “On three,” the survivor said. “One...two…”

They both heaved on three, The Executioner groaning as he shoved with all his might. Slowly, with a great sound of squelching, his face came free, and eventually they both fell back, shaken but victorious. The Executioner was on his feet in an instant, his entire right side coated with muck, a grumble of relief escaping his chest.

The survivor had scrambled up too, and took a step back. “Forgot you’re so tall,” they said under their breath, casting him a furtive glance.

He gave them a look, and bent again, pulling his blade free with another squelch.

An echoing clang made them both jump. The forest blazed with light - three generators completed at once. The Executioner rumbled with displeasure - The Entity was going to punish him for this failure, he knew. But the trial was already lost, on his end. Even if he went after the survivors with full force, he doubted he’d finish them in time.

And anyway…

He looked at the crazy one - the one who still lingered near, knowing full well that he was put here to punish them. They looked back at him, clearly nervous, but hoping for...something.

“You can keep this,” they said, setting the red medical kit at his feet. “Maybe you can use it for your shoulders. I don’t know if it can help you, but-”

Another flash and clang, further away now. Four generators done.

The Executioner stared at the little red box. It didn’t make sense. He was supposed to punish the wicked, but this survivor clearly ...wasn’t wicked. Wicked people didn’t help fallen enemies.

If this survivor wasn’t wicked, how did he know if the others were?

Was everything he had done until now...a mistake?

Or perhaps it wasn’t a mistake. He looked at the survivor - dirty, but uninjured, and he looked at himself, his tunic soaked in his own blood. The Entity fed on hope and despair. Perhaps it was not only the survivors it was feeding off of. Perhaps the bulk of its nourishment came from himself, and the others like him - the ones who were eternally in pain, with no tools or allies to heal them. He thought of Evan’s hooks, and Spirit’s severed limbs. Sally’s ruined face,  Lisa’s...everything. The entity had broken them all - far, far more than it had broken the survivors.

The last generator clanged into light. The Executioner gave a rough sigh, and turned, marching towards the gate as the crazy survivor followed.

He didn’t look at them as he opened the gate. Didn’t look at any of them as they ran past, unharmed and unable to believe their good luck. He knew the crazy one lingered, wanting to meet his gaze, but he didn’t give them the satisfaction.

At last they were gone, and he strode through the grass with The Entity’s displeasure heavy on his bleeding shoulders and the trial-realm collapsing in sparks and ash behind him, taking the offered medical kit with it. Only once they were all back around their fire, and he lurked in the shadows, watching, did he look at their faces, and let himself wonder. Why had the crazy one helped him? Why had the other left their precious kit, to possibly aid in his recovery? Would they even remember, in the next trial, that they had done these things?

Would he remember?

Not once in past trials had he questioned the world he found himself in, in all the endless days of work and violence. But now, for the first time, he found himself wishing for more knowledge. Wishing for a way to escape this world, as killer or survivor.

Or, failing that, for a way to forget the questions that now hung over him like dark crows. The Entity fed on despair. Now more than ever, he didn’t want to give it what it wanted.

[raamyun-and-rambles]

Musings of an Alchemist’s Lover

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Albedo x Reader Summary:  Maybe you had a third eye somewhere you didn't know of, a horn that's grown out of you without you noticing or a tail that flicks behind you whenever you weren't looking. Whatever it was, certainly there had to be something noticeably different about you that attracted the alchemist's attention and your curiosity allowed your mind to wander.

-----------

Holding Albedo's attention for more than a few seconds was no easy feat.

Unless it was a topic that tickled his fancy or something of utmost urgence, Albedo would most likely only regard the unfortunate soul with a disgruntled hum, tuning out most of their words until he manages to somewhat catch onto the main gist of their spiel. He doesn't even do anything to hide his disinterest, eyes immediately finding purchase on anything else but the speaker in front of them, musing theories to himself that he'd sometimes let slip into a whisper. This certain trait of his has definitely gotten him into trouble more than a couple of times but Albedo could hardly care. Surely discovering the world's secrets is more important than helping the Knights look for Margaret's lost cat for the umpteenth now right?

Despite being Mondstadt's favorite person and with a reputation that precedes him, Albedo was surprisingly anti-social. He had little to no regards for social interaction and this is further proved when he made himself a makeshift laboratory in one of Dragonspine's cave.

It was quiet, deserted and had almost everything he needed for his studies. If he ever ran out of supplies then he'd be able to call for either Sucrose or Timaeus - or go down the mountain himself to make sure he'll stock up with more than the amount he needs so he can hole himself up for a couple of weeks on end. The scenery was an added bonus, if the amount of sketches he's made was anything to go by, it was safe to say that Albedo liked it as well. Thick snow carpeted the floor as far as the eye can go and streams glimmered under the light of the morning sun. The air was crisp and chilly, it nipped at his nose and made his cheeks burn red, but his cave offered a comforting warmth once he's sank in front of the hearth, nursing a cup of tea or hot chocolate.

Albedo was many things, that much you could tell.

A genius, an alchemical prodigy, a leader, a brother - and most surprisingly, even to yourself - your lover.

To be fairly honest you weren't entirely sure what it was that attracted the Chief Alchemist of the Knights to your side. You were hardly anyone special after all, simply just one of Lisa's many acquaintances who spends one too many hours in the library. You were of average height and build, with a face that you could only describe as forgettable. Neither you nor your parents were well-known within the walls of the city of freedom and you lived a mostly mundane routinary life as a baker until Klee had bounded into your humble store one rainy evening, soaked to the bone and sneezing from the cold. The poor thing was shivering and had asked to take shelter from the pouring rain. You didn't have the heart to turn her away and you were more than just a little familiar about the stories of Mond's most adorable but destructive spark knight. You allowed her into your home, giving her a fresh towel to pat herself dry and a cup of hot milk and freshly baked cookies. The child bounced in glee, thanking you and happily accepting the treats with a smile that could part the skies to make way for the rays of sun. You allowed her to phone her guardian after she had finished eating and you kept her company throughout the entire wait. You turned your attention away from Klee the moment the store bell rang and your (e/c) eyes had immediately met with bright turquoise irises.

"Thank you for taking care of her." Albedo said as he knelt down to assist Klee with wearing her infamous bright red coat and adjusted her mushroom hat so it sat snugly atop her head.

"It's no problem at all, she was lovely company. I'd be delighted to have her around again every once in a while." You chuckled, remembering how she had praised the treats you made for her.

"Albedo onii-chan Albedo onii-chan!" The spark knight excitedly exclaimed, tugging on his hand with each call of his name. "______ makes the best sweets! Her cookies are really good and the bread she makes are really fluffy! She let me help her mix the dough earlier and-"

"How about you tell me all about it when we get home Klee? It's late and I'm sure ______ has to close up shop soon."

Klee deflated a bit but was quick to understand, she turned to you immediately after and flashed you another bright smile.

"Thank you for today ______ nee-chan, Klee will come back to visit another time!"

You smiled at her enthusiasm and you couldn't resist the urge to pat her on the head.

"I'll be waiting for you here then."

Albedo stood up after the exchange and finally regarded you with his attention. "We'll be off then, have a lovely evening miss ______."

"And to you too sir Kreideprinz."

You watch them walk off down the cobbled street, Klee's joyous laughter and excited chatter filling the air despite the pattering of rain against your roof. They took a turn around the corner and disappeared from your view. A small smile tugs on your features and you immediately set to work with locking up the store for the night.

Klee had started coming over more often after that night, mostly dropping by before you close while she waited for Albedo to finish work. It was no surprise that Klee often talked fondly about her big brother, praising him and telling you stories you haven't heard from any of the other residents of Mond while you prepared for tomorrow's next batch of goods. Albedo seemed like a very busy man from the way Klee tells her stories but he always seemed to make time to pick her up, oftentimes buying some bread and sweets before leaving.

It surprised you a little when he admitted he enjoyed having something sweet while he worked. Albedo insisted that it was because it gave him a considerable boost of energy but a part of you thinks it could just be because he had a sweet tooth he just wasn't aware of.

Needless to say it was due to that chance encounter with Klee that had allowed you to meet the chief alchemist himself and your relationship had only continued to bloom from there.

He was - in simple terms - wonderful.

An eccentric, true, but wonderful nonetheless and you never would have guessed that you'd ever end up as his lover nor did you ever imagine you'd be holding him in your arms, sleep slowly overtaking him as you gently ran your fingers through soft platinum locks - much like the lazy morning you were both sharing right now.

Albedo had come home at almost 3 in the morning the other night, with a throbbing headache and eyes that almost refused to open from drowse. He had pulled all-nighters for several days now, refusing to leave his lab for even a moment as he fully threw himself into his work. Nothing could ever stop him when he was in such a state, filled with elation at the mere prospect of a new discovery. It was a side of him that you admired as much as you found it problematic, it was amazing how he could wholly dedicate all his time, effort and energy towards his research but it was a definitely a point of worry that he'd also forget how to take care of himself. The alchemist immediately headed to your shared bedroom, dragging his feet across the floor while he shed himself of his coat, letting out a long yawn before heaving himself onto the mattress' soft comfort. You stirred from your sleep as the bed dipped and knowing it couldn't possibly be anyone else other than Albedo, you immediately rolled to your side and wrapped your arms around his middle, nuzzling into his warmth as his arms found themselves around you to return your embrace. There was an exchange of sleepy mumbles before you both immediately fell back into sleep.

You smile a little bit at the memory, humming softly as you continue to softly card your fingers through his hair. It was more than just a little past the time you both usually woke, but you'll allow it for now. Surely the people could wait a couple hours more for their morning bread and the knights can surely make do without the Chief Alchemist for a moment longer. So long as Albedo was getting the rest he needed you figured a lazy morning in would be alright every once in a while especially after the sleepless hectic nights he had the past few days. The peaceful expression on his face immediately filled you with relief.

"Albedo?" You whispered, afraid you'd break the serenity of the morning.

The alchemist responded with a sleepy hum, lifting his head so he could look at you as his long lashes fluttered open.

A smile tugged at your lips at his sleepy visage before you gently pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you."

He gives you a sleepy smile of his own, heart swelling at the affection before nuzzling back into the crook of your neck.

"I love you too."

His lips brushed against your pulse as he spoke and his breath tickled against your skin, feeling a little playful, you then decided to ask.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

A question you've always been meaning to ask, brought about by a sudden spur of confidence.

"Because meine liebe," Albedo starts, once again pulling himself away from your warmth to hold you with his gaze - you once again think to yourself that his eyes has the most beautiful shade of green - "I love you simply because you are you."

"You're certain it's not because I have a third eye hidden away somewhere or some freaky mutation I somehow have no knowledge of?"

Albedo chuckled lightly.

"Certainly not love, and I'm sure if you do I wouldn't be the only one to take notice of it."

You hum, convinced and resumed patting his hair.

The alchemist assumed his earlier position and sank further into your embrace.

"Besides," he murmured, sleep lacing his words,

.

.

.

"I think you're wonderful just the way you are."

[keilemdarkmode]

preened

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere 🚫

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x (fem)reader

word count: 4.2k

settling in keigo’s arms was far easier than facing his weapons and wrath.

warnings: noncon/dubcon/rape, blood violence, manipulation, yandere, drowning, mention of branding, abuse, somehow STILL soft, bathing/bath tub shit

--

a/n: wow fellas, first yan hawks piece!! PLEASE!! heed the warnings!! this is not soft and tender, it is fucked up, sad, dark, and tender! if its not your thing, please keep scrolling ❤️

that being said, this piece was beta’ed by the lovely @hawnks. it was interesting and new to explore these themes and ideas and im happy to share them now :’^) enjoy!

||||||||||||||||||||

Keigo could be cruel.

You knew that too well.

But, lately, he’d been kinder. Softer, without so many barbs and blades just behind his words and actions.

You knew, very consciously, that this was due to your good behavior after the ‘feather’ incident, but that knowledge didn’t dull the sweetness too much.

(Only a little.)

...

“Dove, are you falling asleep?” Keigo’s voice was far too mirthful as he carded a hand through your hair.

You grumbled, something lighthearted and muffled into his chest.

You had been nodding off, Keigo’s arm slack over your shoulder as he idly watched a film that you were sure he wasn’t paying attention to.

An afternoon off together was rare, and you didn’t want to spoil it.

Asking Keigo to put on a movie and ‘snuggle’ got him red-faced and poofy-feathered, he all but dragged you to the couch to pamper you for the day.

It would’ve been endearing if you’d wanted to be there.

Maybe, sometime back, you would’ve fought.

When Keigo brought you the fluffy, red blanket he loved sharing with you, you might’ve spit on it, maybe on him. Thrown the blanket back into his face only to laugh at the anger and rage he would inevitably erupt into before throwing you over his knee.

Maybe, once, you would have tried to scald Keigo with the steaming tea he brought you (prepared just as you liked, it was one of the first things he memorized about you). You would’ve probably aimed for his face— maybe, his wings, if you were feeling particularly stupid.

Now?

You smiled, maybe something real, as you took the blanket from his waiting arms. You let him blow on your tea with his pretty pink lips as he insisted he’d ‘never let you get burned’.

(You both knew that the ‘fire’ incident was too far. You’d been vacant for a month after Keigo had pulled that stunt.)

“Thank you,” You kissed his cheek, like he wanted you to.

Maybe you should’ve been disgusted. Instead, the contact felt nice. Touch starvation had long since set in, and Keigo was your only outlet. And he was very willing.

The afternoon had been easy, nice. You’d let him play with your hair, mindful to tuck your braced arm to your tummy under the blanket. Keigo tended to be a bit more on edge when he was reminded of the ‘feather’ incident.

It was easier to keep it hidden.

“Dear?” Keigo asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. “When was the last time we gave you a proper bath?”

You tensed so hard, you might as well have been stone.

Baths were still bad, even after so long.

You figured it out, after a while. It was one of Keigo’s subconscious avian instincts, to keep him and his mate clean and looking well.

It was why he always sat in front of you to allow you to pick through and straighten his feathers. It was vulnerable, the way he shivered and shuddered and fucking moaned as you would straighten and pluck what you could.

It was why he scrutinized the brushing of your teeth so heavily, scoffing at your lack of ‘precision’ and ‘attention to detail’. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d brushed them yourself. Keigo would always just seat you on the cold marble counter, slot himself between your legs while vice-gripping your jaw and gagging you with a toothbrush.

Though, he had been more gentle lately. Nicer.

He’d been more like the ‘mate’ he’d always described himself being.

Your role to Keigo was why he had full autonomy over bathing you.

He could take showers and baths alone, all as he pleased. But, you were washed by his hands only. Even the quick showers after he’d fuck you silly, he was always with you, scrubbing you down with special soaps and a soft cloth.

“Dove?” Keigo’s voice came kindly, yet his grip tightened. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“You did, I’m sorry,” The response came from your lips hurriedly. “It’s been a while.”

Keigo hummed, clicking his tongue and sitting up fully, “I’ll set up the bath then. I’ll take a shower later so I can make sure you’re squeaky clean now, how about that?”

You nodded, knowing better than to disagree with him.

When Keigo had first brought you ‘home’, he’d take your baths with you. He’d pull you tight to his chest, try to, as you struggled and screamed.

He snapped once, letting his anger get the better of him when you bit him so hard on his forearm that he bled.

Though, it wasn’t his blood that stained the bathwater that night.

It was the first time he showed you how much soft damage he could inflict with his sharpened feathers.

He rarely took baths with you after that; you hoped the memory of haunted him the same way it did with you.

Over time, bathing you had become a sort of neutral ground.

Keigo enjoyed it too much for it to be used as a punishment, and you learned better.

That didn’t mean slipups didn’t happen, but in general, you were good for him then.

The bad memories still made you tremble, vivid reminders.

Keigo tugged you to the bathroom, the eon-suite in the master bedroom, ‘our’ bedroom, as he called it with the wistful look in his eye.

Part of you reviled the affection in his tone, the other part was relieved that it wasn’t malice anymore.

Stepping into the bathroom was always a bit jarring, your mind and body knowing what occurred so often in the months past. The conditioning was implicit, even if the two of you didn’t like it.

The master bathroom was massive, built for his wings. The soaker tub, jets and all, was meant to accommodate their size. He’d had a new one put in, he told you, just before he ‘brought’ you ‘home’.

Keigo stopped you in front of the sink, a usual routine. You kept your gaze trained on the ground.

“Dove, it’s alright, no need to be frightened,” He chuckled, but you knew it was more of a command than anything else. He slung his arms over your shoulders, a firm grip on your jaw forcing you to look into the reflection. “You’ve been a good girl lately, I’ll be gentle.”

You sniffled, nodding.

His grip tightened, “Words. You know better.”

“Y-yes,” You nodded, eyes darting around the mirror to avoid looking at your dual visage. “I have been good. I’ll be good.”

“Sweet girl,” Keigo sang, peppering kisses over the side of your face as you made eye contact with yourself. Your stare was vacant and cold, clinging onto what you could grasp without pain.

You hated it—

Yourself.

Your stomach rolled, but you swallowed down your disgust.

“Don’t look away, understand?” Keigo’s voice was too soft for the authority in his words.

“I won’t, I understand.”

You watched as his nimble fingers slipped under the shirt of his that you wore. He’d let you wear panties that day, soft cotton ones that hardly seemed ‘sexy’, but they drove him wild anyways. Something about normalcy always got him more feral than normal.

Considering the cold outside, he’d even been kind enough to dress you in a pair of loose, thigh high stockings. He slid them down your legs, descending as he did to leave little kisses. He pulled at your underwear, palming at the plump of your ass as they fell to the ground.

You stepped out of the stockings and panties when he tapped your ankles, leaving you completely naked in the mirror.

Forcing yourself to stare in the mirror was hard.

You didn’t look like yourself.

You hadn’t for so long.

Your own visage made your head spark with numbness, something acrid spilling over your tongue.

It must’ve shown in your face, but you didn’t register it.

“None of that, angel, you’re beautiful,” Keigo draped himself over you, wings outstretched.

You swallowed, nodding, but not replying.

“Bath time, then,” Keigo hummed, guiding you to the toilet seat as he prepared the soak.

You watched him roll up the sleeves of his soft button-down, revealing his many scars. Some were from his work, others from your nails and teeth. You felt guilty, odd as it was, seeing how they still marred his pretty, tanned skin.

You folded your hands in your lap as Keigo got to work.

He turned on the faucet, always a bit too hot, just so you could soak for longer. Shampoo, conditioner, a variety of hair and face masks, special bubble baths and bath bombs all carried in a cute basket were brought to the side of the tub as he prepared it.

If you were proper lovers, it would’ve been endearing.

He rose, lighting jar and pillar candles across the massive bathroom. It was something he did to put you both at ease, the fire acting like some sort of safety net that you both knew kept him from getting too aggressive with you, risking burning his wings.

It all felt like too much, the care he put into everything.

Your guilt swelled as you focused on your naked thighs.

Keigo talked to you as he went about preparing your pampering, knowing better than to expect any proper responses as he prepared the bath with lovely smells and pretty colors.

The last thing he did was hang a red silk robe on a hook near the door.

You really must’ve been good, getting the chance to cover yourself after a bath.

You had been trying harder lately. Remembering your rules, how and where to be and when. It made things easier. Fighting made your tired, clawing had made you weaker.

Being complicit burned something in you, low and rolling, but it was better than facing Keigo’s constant wrath.

On your more mentally together days, the ones where he was gone more and longer, you put together some of Keigo’s fucked up psychology.

He just didn’t want to be alone.

He just wanted a companion.

It was cruel— sick, that one of the most desired men in the nation had to pluck you, and all your mundanity, from your life to force you into the mold of a lover, consort and best friend like you weren’t a person.

You shook your head, trying not to stew.

Stewing made you bad.

And you had been good.

You had to be, after the ‘feather incident’.

It made things easier.

...

You’d found the feather under the couch.

Keigo left them around normally, the sensitive things picking up on your heart rate and breathing. The safety phone, an old landline, would ring if you got too anxious, the shrill tone only making it worse, but that was part of the point, wasn’t it?

All the same, this feather looked older.

The color was duller, the filaments frayed.

Keigo liked to present the feathers openly, stuck into fixtures and over counters and tabletops. Something about ‘keeping his mate safe from prospective challengers’.

(You never saw anyone other than him. There was no one to oppose Keigo in your life.)

This particular plume being hidden seemed like a mistake.

He didn’t slip up often.

Your mind spun as you debated what to do.

You poked it, cautiously.

It didn’t move, waver, or harden.

It was limp, like a real, normal feather.

The spine was hard—

Solid enough to shove into a lock, maybe.

You snatched it up, hiding it between the cushions as you raced to think through a plan.

Your previous escape attempts hardly even happened. Keigo was fast enough to catch you as you neared the fortified door, always.

He’d drag you to the bedroom to hold you down and eat your cunt until your mind was too mushy to even conceptualize ideas beyond Keigo’s tongue fucking into your dripping hole. He was mean about it, pushing you too far and keeping you there to writhe and beg for reprieve.

You hated him for it at the time.

But, you had an opportunity to fucking get out.

During the incident—

He was gone.

He was at work for the rest of the day.

You hurried.

His other present feathers would sense you, you had to work quickly.

You didn’t have shoes other than house slippers, but they’d have to make due. You shoved some granola bars in your pocket, freezing the moment you heard the ringtone of the landline echo over the penthouse.

Don’t slow, don’t stop.

How fucking foolish you were, thinking you could outrun a being that flew.

Idiotic, you’d come to chastise yourself later.

You stuffed what you could into your pockets, running to the front door and shoving the spine of the feather into the lock.

It was firm enough to be used as a pick, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how to pick locks, but you had to try right?

You could pick the eight locks on the door before Keigo got home, right?

Foolish.

Your hands trembled as the phone rang over and over.

Your heart nearly stopped when you heard the telltale ‘thunk’ of Keigo landing on the balcony.

Frantically, you tried to undo just one lock, just for the sake of your own sanity, knowing what was to come—

The balcony door slammed open.

You went rigid, hands still working, sweaty and desperate.

Keigo was on you in a second, pulling you from your knees by your hair in one swift motion.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

His voice could’ve cut steel, the tone so angry and dead that it brought tears to your eyes as you began to struggle.

“No, no, no— you’re not doing this shit.” Keigo spat, tugging your shaking hand from the lock as the lifeless feather fell to the ground.

He pressed you against the door, bearing all of his body weight against your back as you flattened against the wood. His wings rose, eclipsing any light.

His grip on your wrist got tighter, harder. It was sure to bruise.

(Ha.)

Keigo snarled, roughly slamming his hips into your backside, “What is this shit you’re trying to pull? I know you’re an ungrateful cunt, but I didn’t know you were a complete dumbass.”

He bent your arm back, farther and higher up by the wrist.

“Did you really think you could do that? Do this to me?!” Keigo’s voice tore through you, the waver in it sounding so foreign it almost hurt. “LEAVE ME?!”

Fear shot through you as his worn hands wrapped around your palm.

In one swift motion—

Snap.

Your vision tilted as you fell back into Keigo.

Your hand wavered limply and wrongly in his grip, thoroughly broken.

Keigo clapped a hand over your mouth as you began to scream, wail at the searing pain that was shooting from your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.” His unapologetic, hot breath swirled over your ear like nausea and bile, “I promise, this will be for your own good.”

...

Keigo didn’t stop that day, no matter how much you begged and shrieked.

...

The rest of the incident got blurry.

It hurt to think about it too much.

Keigo’s rage-filled voice promising that he was going to ‘snap a new bone each time you cum’ remained a haunting memory.

He followed through, of course. He was nothing if not uncomfortably honest at the worst of times.

You could recall the feeling of cold blood trickling down your thighs, nose, and even from your mouth as you sobbed and screamed for mercy on the cold hardwood. A small feather, wet with you in so many forms, licked and lapped at your clit as Keigo made good on his promise.

The feeling of his sweat dripping onto your spine as he easily crushed and snapped a new bone each time you reached ecstasy haunted you into a submission that was no longer reluctant.

You hated yourself for it.

...

Your gaze drifted from the steaming water to your hand, the brace removed. Your fingers were still mangled, they would be forever. Keigo purposefully patched them poorly— he’d told you so. Something about making it a ‘lasting lesson’.

You sniffled at the thought, flexing the fingers, feeling the old pains shoot up your arm.

“Angel love? No need to do that,” Keigo reminded you, covering your hand with his own.

Gently, he tilted your jaw so you could meet his eyes.

You imagined the two of you looked equally sad.

The following weeks after the ‘incident’, you tried so hard to be good. The pain was a new intensity, something you couldn’t forget. Keigo reminded you of it if you slipped up, squeezing your hand or wrist with a grimace curled his pretty lips.

To his merit, Keigo also felt bad about hurting you so bad. Prior to that, punishments were either harsh edging or overstimulation which in some ways were pleasurable. Spanking too, but even then, Keigo looked a bit meek after leaving such unpleasant bruises on your backside.

But permanently crippling your body in time with tearing your cunt bloody?

He sobbed into your shoulder every night for a month.

Tried as you did to be good, you also became quite numb.

It felt better than the agony.

Keigo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his nose nudging your cheek, “What kind of bubble bath would you like?”

Wow.

You had been good.

You’d never been able to pick out your smells before.

Swallowing, you chewed at your lip, eyes drifting from the cute basket to Keigo’s expectant eyes.

He sighed, squeezing your knee, “Dear, it’s not a trick. Just your preference.”

“Can’t you pick?”

You immediately tensed, flinching away from Keigo’s soft touch with your own words.

An old echo of an older lesson:

‘Good girls don’t question things, do they?’

“I-I’m sorry,” You sputtered, eyes trained on the tile of the bathroom. You held out your bent wrist without thinking.

You tensed, waiting for the pain that would inevitably come.

Right?

Keigo stared at it, then to you, eyes going sad and glassy.

It made your heartbreak.

He carefully held your wrist, putting in back and rested in your naked lap.

“None of that, love. I’ll pick today, but you deserve to feel good. Don’t you think so?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Good girl, angel.”

Keigo gave you a gooey smile, one you returned as earnestly as you could. He quickly went back to the basket, pulling out an elegant glass bottle or two, dumping them into the tub as light, herbal scents began to waft into the air.

You relaxed a bit.

Keigo’s wings twitched, a little smile crooking on his face.

“It’s all ready, dear. Let me help you.”

Carefully, he helped you into the filled, bubbly foam settling around your shoulders as you leaned against the porcelain edge.

Though Keigo kept his wings flat to his back as he could, you could still see the feathers twitch and ruffle.

‘An instinctual response to seeing his mate so vulnerable— for his own benefit or otherwise.’

You swallowed, sinking into the sparkling water.

Keigo gave you another smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead before presenting you with two fancy-looking bath bombs.

“Now, dear, how about picking one of these? Nice and easy.”

He was right, but your head still spun.

You picked the one on the right, a dusty purple sphere with flower petals pressed into the outside.

Keigo lit up as you took it from his hand, gently placing it into the water.

You both watched it fizz and bob for a moment, mesmerized as the color spread and spit.

“See? Not too hard, huh?” Keigo chuckled to himself, laying his arms crossed on the lip of the massive tub. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, full of love and adoration that made you feel sick.

You knew better than to reject it.

Rather, you returned his affections the best you could.

You even leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Keigo lit up, eyes shining and bright as he cupped your cheeks, returning the gesture tenfold.

You performed so well, giggling and smiling as he did.

You’d become so good at putting on a show for him, even if it exhausted you. It was so much easier to pretend that he was a dutiful lover and not a horrifying captor. With your bent fingers submerged in the balmy water, it was even easier to shove down his transgressions.

On your good days, you would even forget.

You liked those days.

You wanted today to be one of those days where everything was okay.

You weren’t quite there, but you could try your best.

As you relaxed in the bath, Keigo gently pulled one of your legs from the water. Suds and sparkles slid down your leg as his pretty gold eyes inspected your skin.

Keigo smoothed a hand over the prickling hair of your leg, frowning, “Gotta shave you nice and smooth, huh, love?”

You nodded, whether it was your preference or not didn’t matter.

Sinking a little deeper into the water, you watched him so carefully treat your skin. Exfoliating with gentle circles, and then slicking your leg with a small vial of golden oil.

The razor was what scared you the most.

You bore its marks in many ways, little cuts and scars left on your legs from your ancient twitching and struggling were the most plentiful.

There were a few brands from the thin metal, marring the bottoms of your feet.

Those were the worst to heal. Keigo had to carry you around for days, toying with you the entire time. He teased you in your helplessness, but none of his quips were wrong.

He’d made you need him.

You audibly whimpered at the memories, Keigo’s gaze flickering to you as he ran the sleek razor over your shining skin.

“Dear, nothing to be afraid of. You’re doing so well.”

You nodded, knowing better than to remind him of his own horrors.

He shaved you carefully, thoughtfully even, humming to himself as he did. Keigo was nothing if not a perfectionist, leaving you silky smooth and well-tended to. You wondered if he would treat you to a massage later with how kind he was being.

He left your cunt alone, liking the hair more wild and ‘natural’.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Keigo asked wistfully as he moved closer. His hand slipped under the water, cupping the back of your neck.

You took a little too long to respond, you supposed in retrospect.

Keigo’s face went dark, for a mere moment, as his grip tightened, dragging you under the suds.

You jolted, struggling and flailing in shock as water flooded your mouth and nose.

He pulled you up as quickly as he had pulled you down, the dark look not dulled in the slightest.

“Be good, and I won’t have to do that shit.” His words dripped cold venom, wings beginning to unfurl. “I’d hate to revisit how long it takes you to stop squirming under there, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, hurriedly, quickly, sitting up the best you could in his grip, “N-no, I don’t want that. Please. This is very nice. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be better.”

They were promises, honest ones.

You very much wanted to keep them.

Keigo’s look thankfully dissolved, going melancholic before erupting warmly once more. It was a facial journey you’d seen too much and too often.

“That’s my girl,” He grinned, giving you a wet kiss on the lips. You kissed back the best you could, shaking visibly and not trying to hide it.

Keigo pulled back, golden eyes too sharp and too vibrant.

As he poured shampoo into his hand, you clenched your maimed hand into a fist. The lesson worked so well, you thought, as pain rushed through you, hot like the old brands and clawing scratches.

Keigo was too sweet as he lathered your hair in the candlelight.

And you were too crushed to resist.

Far too tired.

Endlessly too weak, he’d shown you over and over.

So, you accepted his touches to cast off his ire.

Even as he pulled you from the bath, flush to his body while he wrapped you in a fluffy towel, you smiled despite the bulge pressing into your abdomen.

Even as he massaged you with earthy smelling oils, cooing about how beautiful and sacred your body was, you thanked him despite the disgust that brewed so deep in you like some hellish brine pool.

Even as he fucked you like a lover, clasping your hands to the sheets and mixing you with him as he brought you to the edge again and again, you moaned with him despite how the stretch of his cock still aggravated old wounds.

Even as he filled you up with his cum, crying out about how well you took him, what a ‘good girl’ you were, your cries crashed with his in pretty harmony despite how rotten you should’ve felt.

Because, at the end of the day, sated, cleaned and loved in his arms, the old scars didn’t ache so bad if he kissed you sweetly. If you smiled at him as he smiled at you, Keigo was kind like a companion, mate and lover should be.

As you drifted off, you were okay with the weight of his wings bearing over your fucked-out body.

It was easier this way,

Maybe even better.

[wisterialagoon]

For you, I'll stay : pt1

Dabi is one of the top soldiers of the League of Villains. He does the dirty work and feels the stain of crime on his hands. You're an Assistant Inspector at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, resigned to records-keeping instead of doing actual fieldwork. What happens when these two become intertwined in the most prominent political event that changed the era of 1990's Tokyo Japan?

Warnings: Violence (a girl gets beat up in this chapter), gangs, eventual smut(not in this chapter tho)

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Agency, Kantō Region, Japan.

January 9th, 1990, Tuesday. 

22:30 hrs.

"It's going to be a long night," she thought, while fixing her desk for the fifth time. There was a haphazard pile of file folders, an unboxed diskette pack, and coffee cup stains all over her table calendar. She quickly reorganises the file folders, placing them in chronological order, then according to crime. Then, she matches the diskettes, which contain additional data such as interrogation footage, with each pile. Lastly, she makes her way to the pantry to refill her mug with coffee, humming along to a tune that was receiving more airplay recently.

It was an uneventful night, to say the least. As usual, she worked overtime, working on organising the paperwork and records of each case-from instigation to case management. She loved it initially, but now that she's six months into this new assignment, she could feel herself wearing down with how emotionally, physically and mentally taxing everything is. It wasn't so much the quantity or frequency of the load, but the content itself.

Seeing death, rape, theft and disappearances on a daily basis was starting to take a toll on her mental health, and even if she learned how to compartmentalise, there was something about seeing all the details that made her sleep less and less these days. The photos of dead bodies or visages of crying relatives would disturb her to no end, and having to type out each case report even if it meant tagging it as a cold case, was something that never really sat well with her.

Her direct senior, the only female Inspector in the agency-the only one who was actually nice, unlike the rest of the police force who talk about her during lunch breaks and agency dinners-tell her that the feeling of being "uninvolved" and "useless" will soon pass. "Besides," she tells her during one of the rare nights that they're both doing overtime, "You've got potential."

She sighs, wary of the compliment. "I just... I wish I could be doing more."

"You'll have your fair share of fieldwork and interrogations, Y/N" she says, patting the younger girl's shoulder. "Just keep working well, and the Chief will soon see your potential."

That last line resonated with her the most. She knew that the Chief was a firm leader-he did routine inspections, called people in his office to ask for status reports and he'd set all sorts of deadlines. But he was also known for being experienced in reading people just with one look.

So the question was, what was his assessment of her?

Did the Chief view her just like how the rest of the agency did-an Assistant Inspector who was only fit for clerical work even if she had graduated at the top of her class? Did he even notice her presence in the building-or was she too conscious of all the judgemental stares thrown her way because she was the first female recruit in a long while?

That was it, she thought, not noticing that her cup had overflowed.

With a sharp curse, she flung her hand away from the scalding beverage, and moved to grab some tissues-her mind thoroughly forgetting the questions that had darted in her mind not a minute ago.

As she dabbled the tissue on her hands and shirt, the police hotline rang, disturbing the silence of the otherwise empty floor. Alarmed at the prospect of a crime or report coming in at this hour, she runs towards the desk of the patrol and public safety unit.

"SMPA, what is your concern?" she asks, voice surprisingly level. When there wasn't a response, she asks again, this time a notch louder.

"Kidnapping," the voice cuts through the radio silence, its texture a rich timbre with a raspy undertone. Caught off guard at the mention of a kidnapping, she scrambles for a notepad and a pen. "23:00, 6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan. Takahashi Yua." In hastily written script, she takes note of the details, not once interrupting the man on the line.

"Who is this? Where is your intel from?" she finally asks, after she hears mere breathing sounds. "Hello?"

The person on the line doesn't respond, instead opting to breathe heavily before the line dies.

"Wha-" she exhales, overwhelmed with the situation. It wasn't unheard of for random tips to come in the station, that much was true. But a tip at this time? And with that much detail? She was wary enough that there wasn't any crime traffic recently but this is proving to be the suspicious exception.

Shaking off her doubts, she dials the home number of Inspector Sato, the head of the patrol and public safety unit. She knows he'll definitely give her an earful for calling at such a late hour-and to his house no less, but if what the man said was true, and if her gut was right, someone was after the daughter of the Minister of National Defense.

At the sixth ring, he picks up and greets her with a litany of questions. "Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is? Whoever you are, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up!" he rattles off, temper flaring.

"This is Miyasaki Y/N, sir." she says, surprised at how stable her voice was. "Assistant Inspec-"

"Ah, the personal assistant." his tongue clicks, and even if she didn't see, she knew he was shaking his head. "What is it? Here to ask help again in records-keeping?"

At that, she presses her mouth in a thin line, stopping herself from giving him a piece of her mind. She knew that they would always find fault in whatever she does but sometimes she wants to just put them in their place and prove herself.

But now wasn't the time to do that.

"No, sir." she starts, fisting her hand. "There's been an emergency call to the patrol and public service hotline. A tip was given about a kidnapping at apartment 6 Chome-10-1 in Roppongi -"

"Let me stop you right there." he expels a deep breath, clearly uninterested with her report. "You do know what that area is like, right? Or do you not even know where it is?"

"It's in Minato city. The residence listed houses many important political figures, it has national defence" she says, foregoing the other details and taking the opportunity to transition to the most important part. "Sir, you see, this could actually mean that-"

"This means that there is no kidnapping. I mean, if you're trying to pull a joke, it's a terrible one. Hell, there's hardly any crime in that area!" he gives a dry laugh. "it's an executive residential area, guarded and all that. As you said, National Defence is there and so are diplomats and expats. No one in their right mind would attempt a prank call, let alone a kidnapping."

"But the caller gave a name, possibly that of the victim. We should send a team, I have the address. I could lead the-" again, he cuts her off. At this point, a vein was threatening to pop at how unprofessional he was being, but she'd rather not break out into an argument with a direct senior-especially when he was clearly already annoyed at her.

"So this is why you really called, huh?" he chuckles. "Look, no one knows how you got in, or what strings you pulled to pass the Academy, but at the rate you're going, you'll never lead a team-much less my team." the certainty in his voice washed over her, causing her to remain silent at his blatant jibe. "So go back to whatever you're doing and don't even attempt to call me or anyone from the agency to waste their time with your tall tales." the other line clicks, ending their phone call.

Exasperated, she puts down the receiver with a little too much force than was necessary. "Fine, I'll do it myself." she mutters, putting on her coat, muffler and grabbing her car keys.

30 minutes. She'll have to pray that she makes it. After all, she doesn't have much time.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:00 hrs.

The gate to the apartment building alone rendered her speechless. Pure brass balusters and a towering guardhouse greeted her, complete with intimidating security personnel who wasted no time in asking for her identification.

"Assistant Inspector Lee, from the SMPA. We received a tip about criminal activity taking place in the vicinity of this residence," she starts, not giving any specific details. "This won't take long." she adds, as a last ditch effort to convince them that she means business.

"Alright," one of the guards lets her through. As she rolled up her window, she catches a muffled dialogue between the two. "Isn't she a little too young to be an Inspector? And criminal activity? Talk about absurd."

Scoffing, she speeds up to the address the caller gave and in a few minutes, found herself outside the apartment building. But she was too late. There, standing by the of the main entrance, was the defence Minister himself, with blood on his hands and a shell-shocked expression.

"My daughter..." she hears him mutter. From just behind the door, she hears distant voices screaming for someone to call the police. "Dial the police! Or call the National Defense for all I care! Someone do something!" the voice got louder as she linked it with a face-Takahashi Riku, the Minister's wife. As if seeing the police lights flashing atop her car, The ministers knees gave out.

She makes haste to catch him before he falls, and as she does, she gets her shirt stained with blood, and scrapes her elbow with the force of his weight. Not minding the sting of the wind blowing by her scraped skin, she pulls out her walkie-talkie, and radios the police patrolling Roppongi that night.

"This is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N, does anyone copy?" she starts, practically shouting. For some reason, she felt an adrenaline rush at the development of events. "Repeat, this is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki, does anyone copy?"

After a few beats, a voice breaks through the white noise. "This is Inspector Takami, copy. What's your 10-13?"

"I've got a two zero seven." she says, forgetting that she hadn't even scouted the area for verification that a kidnapping actually took place. "6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City. Send a medic for shock treatment." she rattles off, surprised at herself for actually being able to focus and act given the situation.

Then again, this was her job. Her first fieldwork-albeit unwarranted and unapproved.

"Copy that, 10-4. I'll run code. ETA twenty minutes." he affirms his direct response before ending the dispatch call.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:20 hrs.

After twenty minutes, two police cars pull up the driveway. One belonged to Inspector Takami, the other was the patrol for back-up. He closes the gap between them in five, quick strides, hands in his coat's pockets.

"What happened?" he asks, ready for a briefing.

"There's nothing definitive yet..." she trails off, mentally berating herself for not even scouting the interior to study the scene. "But I've spoken to the family."

"You mean you've spoken to the Minister of National Defense." he supplies, his breath fogging up in front of him. "What did he say?"

"The family heard the door slam shut, and when he went to check his daughter was gone," hesitant, she clears her throat as a stalling method. "He found her in the marking lot, the girl was bruised and bloodied, unconscious. Looks like she was forced to inhale somthing, and her hands were tied."

"Attempted kidnapping?" he asks, stealing a glance at the apartment buildings façade.

"High chance for it." she answers, clearing her throat again. "Listen, Inspector, I received a tip in the agency around an hour ago-saying something about a kidnapping taking place at this time, at this exact address."

He raises his eyebrows, evidently taken aback at this new piece of information. "And?" he asks, expectant.

"And I think this is a set-up." she declares, sure of something for the first time that night. "Whoever is behind this, wanted us to come, thinking it was a kidnapping when it was an assault and break-and-entry."

"What are you getting at, Miyasaki?"

"There's a reason why Miss. Takahashi was assaulted and not kidnapped. They're telling us something." she says, handing out her notepad which contained the details of the emergency call a while back.

"What do you think this could possibly be then?"

"I don't know... yet." fuelled with conviction, she fists her hands at her sides, no longer feeling that sensation of helplessness or uselessness back in the agency when she was working on records-keeping. "But I'll find out."

9-chome, Kitakarasuyama, Setagaya-ku, Tokyo.

Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N's Residence.

02:00 hrs.

Finally back at her apartment after filing the case and sending off the Minister's family with words of certainty about exhausting their whole force on the job, she slumps on the sofa, feeling her body become dead weight.

"God..." she sighs, fatigued. "That was a long night."

[apossessionadaybreak]

Family Bonding

I couldn’t stop grinning when I woke up today. Maybe it was the sun shining through the window, or the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, or the strong, virile body I was wearing. I laughed, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of days since I hopped into this host but every moment spent in him was further proof that I had made the correct choice. It hadn’t been easy cornering him but week after week of playing the part of his coworker, slowly gaining his trust, had all finally led to this moment. I strutted around the room, a ridiculous one-man parade, a treat meant only for my eyes. I stood before the mirror and beheld my lovely form, feeling something begin to stir and strain against my briefs as I did so. Oh, did I feel good. But it was still early, there was plenty to do, places to be, and a lot more masquerading to do. I patted my member as it stiffened in its cloth prison. Perhaps, if I still remained unsatisfied at the end of the day.

I opened the door and walked into the rest of the house. Yes, yes, all of it lovely, all of it in order, all of it mine. I strode into the living room to see a young man having breakfast.

"Morning son," I called out in my strong voice. “Thanks for the coffee,” I boomed again as I helped myself to a fresh cup.

He nodded, hesitantly perhaps? I made a mental note of the way he looked at me today, and didn’t like what I saw. Uncertainty, unease. No that wouldn’t do at all. I resolved to be a better father as I walked up to where he sat.

“What are you doing on this fine Saturday?” I said, slapping him on the back as I did so. He winced, but gave a wan smile. “Grandpa’s coming over to pick me up, we’re going fishing.”

My jaw clenched but I continued smiling even as I felt a low, cold fury building up inside me. “He’s coming over?”

“Yeah, in fact, any minute now. Let me go get my stuff, I want to be ready to leave when he comes.” He grabbed his phone as he walked to his room, closing the door just a tad faster than normal. Something was not right. No, I thought darkly, nothing was right about this. A stern expression came over my face as I closed my eyes. Focus, I just needed some time to think, with this mind I could work out what I needed to do. I clenched my fists, and grit my teeth as I pondered. My father, my own father, the man who raised me, betraying me like this? How could he not tell me he was coming over? Sweat formed on my furrowed brow as I fumed, trying, failing to cool me off. I forced myself to breathe, to take my time. Certainly this was an affront to my senses but any one who saw me like this would think I had gone insane, becoming this worked up over nothing at all. But I had spent this long, worked this hard, only for that bumbling fool to come along and mess with things. I tried to console myself it would only be for an afternoon, no time at all really but inside my heart I knew I was lying to myself. I had become obsessed with this young man, this youth who was now my son. Having him listen to me, talk to me, look up to me, it was heaven. That had been another reason for taking this host, besides his obvious merits. How could I compete with the old man? He was my senior in every way. I couldn’t allow my son to be stolen away under my nose like that. Then again, this father of mine, it was his blood that coursed through my veins, the one who gave me this strong heart to beat his blood through my veins. I grinned, the solution had been so obvious, how could I have been so blind? I shook my head to myself in disbelief, how foolish I had been to not see the enormity of this golden opportunity on a silver plate. The doorbell rang, and I grinned, things were falling into place, everything would be in order, no, they would be even better than before. I heard the sound of my son’s door being opened.

“Is that Grandpa?” I heard his voice.

“Let me check” I hollered back, chuckling to myself as I did so.

Sure enough when I checked the peephole, I saw the familiar visage of my father, my old man standing outside, patiently waiting. I opened the door.

“Hiya Pops.”

“Oh, morning son. Hope you don’t mind, I planned to take Nate fishing. You can come along too if you want!” He laughed to himself, a hearty roar, like a large ashy fire. I marvelled at the sound and subconsciously licked my lips. I could barely contain my excitement.

“Sounds great Pops, I may just join you two but I’ve got something to show you. Come in, come in, we can talk more in my room.”

He graciously accepted my invitation as I undid the locks. Smiling to myself, I chained the gate and shut the door, making sure there was no way anyone could come in, or out. 

I led the way to my room, opening the door for my father. He stepped in imperiously, with the air of a man who had gotten his way all his life. Not arrogant, it was just how things worked when you were as loved and respected as he was.

“Alright son, what did you want to tell me?”

I smiled, my eyes lighting up with genuine joy.

“Hold still old man.”

I saw the barest frown begin to form on his face as his brow furrowed in puzzlement. He began to open his mouth to ask the question I knew was forming in his mind. I knew what he was going to say. I didn’t care, instead I lunged at his throat. He choked in a mixture of shock, panic, and utter confusion. He spluttered as he tried to yell out but the cry died in his throat as I held on, my penetrating gaze boring deep into his eyes. He whimpered slightly as he stared back, his pupils rapidly dilating, his normally half-shut eyes now open wide in terror and awe. I had him. I tilted my head back and began to push myself out. Slowly, surely, I unstuck the various parts of myself from within my host. My spectral form tore free from the muscle and bone it had been so deeply encased in for the past few days. I felt his senses began to leave me as his limbs grew numb and his eyes grew dull as I continued to detach myself. My host gagged as he coughed up more and more of my essence. I sighed, apparently even in death I could not escape from certain problems. When I had been alive I had been a large man. Now, I certainly had the spirit to match, just not always the body to go along with it. This vessel had been fairly accommodating, if a bit of a squeeze. The remnants of my ghostly belly bubbled up from my host’s, leaving only my tail to wiggle around in his throat. Just another oddity of being a ghost, though I supposed there was little need for legs if one could just as easily hover over the ground. I rubbed my plump hands together in anticipation. But I couldn’t leave just yet. I clutched on to my hefty paunch, digging in to grab handfuls of ectoplasm. Turning to my host with a loving look, I gently laid it over his face. It jiggled there momentarily, before sinking through his nose, his eyes, and soon it was pouring through every available orifice, heading straight for his brain. I felt the welcome return of his sight, his touch, his taste, though they were different now, faded in a way. No matter, so long as I still retained control, still dictated every breath he took, every step he made. Having finished the necessary preparations, I turned back to the old man. His shallow breaths indicated he was still under, still waiting but close, too close to consciousness. I smiled, a fighter, he would serve me well. I rubbed my hands together once again, straightening them out as far as they would go. Using my hosts’s mouth as a makeshift springboard, I lifted myself into the air, and dove straight into the old man’s open jaw.

Oh, what a RUSH. I could feel him, his spirit as it thrashed away, aware of this foreign presence, this threat to itself. I tunneled further, deeper still, pushing past the walls of red and white to the soft ethereal core. In one smooth motion, I grabbed onto it as I swung myself upright using the momentum I had gained, and pressed my own into it. It shuddered as it felt the unwelcome intrusion, the way it unwillingly yielded to take in mine, the way it could do nothing but accept me.

I opened my eyes, feeling a brand new set of senses fill my consciousness, swamping me with new information. I closed my eyes as I drank it all in, gluttonously sucking in as much as I could. More, more, more. I choked, opening my eyes involuntarily as I huffed a few short pants. Looking at me lovingly... was me. Even now as I looked at him, I could also see him looking at me through his eyes. We smiled in unison, lips curling up perfectly in sync. I smirked and he did as well. I laughed, and the bass of our voices layered effortlessly with each other, bouncing around the room. Together, we began to unbutton our shirts, unbuckle our belts. As the clothes slipped off our bodies we tumbled onto the nearby couch, staring at each other, scarcely breathing as we gazed at each other’s beauty. As the old man, I laid down first, slowly curling my back while still ensuring I could see my son. As my son, I brought my hairy body atop my father’s. We shivered, feeling the way our fur, our skin, brushed against each other, every contact a small jolt of pleasure. We looked at each other, entranced. It was understood what was to be done, no words needed to be said.

---

I stepped out of the room as the old man. Strong as these bodies were, the rapid sequence of activity had drained the younger. It was time for me to rest, but also time for me to continue my day afresh, with the adrenaline rush of a new host. I stepped out into the living room to see a young man sitting on the couch, staring at his phone. He looked up as I approached.

“Grandpa! You’re here!” He said, surprised. I closed my eyes from the abrupt rush as he addressed me, so trusting, so sincere.

“Sorry son,” I rumbled, “didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Had some matters to discuss with your dad.”

“Oh.” His face fell as he cast his eyes downwards. I frowned but stayed silent, sensing he wanted to say something.

“About dad... he’s been acting kind of weird lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Ah, so that was the problem. I patted myself on the back mentally, clearly I was on a streak of good decisions, making all the right moves.

“Don’t you worry about that son, we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the boat. Now let’s go fishing.” I saw him relax as he raised his head to smile at me. He got up from the couch and started to the door. I clapped a giant hand onto his shoulder, turning my head to give him a knowing wink.

[uwua3]

something more. (home for the summer)

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: the mad wolf was nothing you expected, but everything you needed for the summer warnings: alcohol/drugs (mentions, no mc usage), angst, bruises, change, crying, death (mentions), graduations, kissing, motorcycles, omi's past, open ending, reunions, scars, separation, sneaking around author's note: bunnie is slowly realizing how old she's getting ;; but in all honesty, the summer of senior year is always a bittersweet feeling, knowing that everything is changing within two months or so. although it's a possibility bunnie may not write as much, or even anymore, once she enters college, she still has this time to do what she loves. i hope you may accept me for as long as you want before we eventually split. if you resonate with this feeling, please enjoy this one-shot! word count: 3,574 music: home for the summer - sara kays

WE STARTED GETTING CLOSE FRESHMEN YEAR, WHEN ALL OF OUR FRIENDS WERE SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WE COULDN’T STAND THAT SECONDHAND SMOKE SO WE’D LEAVE AND DRIVE AROUND UNTIL YOU HAD TO DROP ME OFF AT HOME They said that the big bad wolf of Sekichiku was nothing but bad news, but then why was he so warm in your arms? You couldn’t believe even when you opened your eyes. Fushimi Omi driving his motorcycle just a little slower this time, his leather jacket pressed against your cheek as the night waned. Everyone called him “Mad Wolf”, a title only fitting for the most ruthless of predators amongst the underground of your high school. Yet… how could be a wolf be so gentle? So kind? So lovely in every way?

It started with a party meant for anyone but you. You didn’t know why you decided this was the night to rebel, but it was a mistake. Instead of putting your head in the books and staying quiet in the front of the class, for once you decided to attend a gathering full of things you’ve only read about. Drinks and drugs were mixed in an unhealthy solution for failing tests, missing homework, and any other teenage problem associated with the academic system. When you found yourself outside for the chance of anything except breaking the law, the epitome of what you were avoiding showed up. Omi, in his scarred and bruised glory, quietly closed the door behind him after noticing your rigid state. When his loud boots thumped against the patio floorboards, you wondered what this looked like. A tall, strong wolf with a smile of sharp teeth and narrowed eyes staring down upon his next prey. But, when you turned to meet his amber eyes, you didn’t find a villain belonging to the fairytale of “Little Red Riding Hood”. Instead, Omi softly smiled with dull teeth and eyes that glowed underneath the golden street lamps. When he spoke, his voice healed you like a spoonful of honey, the words void of claws like you expected. “Are you okay? I noticed you’ve been outside for some time, is there anything I can do to help?” Before you shook your head, your gaze subconsciously fell upon the motorcycle chained to a fence, a helmet decorated in boyish stickers that referenced children T.V. shows made you falter. When Omi followed your line of sight, his expression gleamed with something of interest. “Ever driven on a motorcycle before?” This time, you shook your head, arms wrapped around you to keep warm before Omi offered his hand. “Let’s go then.” At your concerned expression at riding a motorcycle with one of the most infamous delinquents around, Omi exhaled through his nose, understanding your apprehension but disappointed nonetheless. It looked like he expected this sort of reaction, though it did nothing to comfort the “Mad Wolf”. “I promise, it’ll be okay. I’ll be extra careful, you have my word.” Omi had no reason to lie, not when his friends were just behind the walls doing everything that got a high schooler excited. You thought something would’ve deterred you from agreeing, like the secondhand smoke scent from Omi’s jacket or the manmade rips in his jeans. But, maybe there was something else that made you take his hand, like the worn leather bracelet you noticed Nachi also wore or the wallet of family photos peeking from his pocket. Either way, you took Omi’s hand, letting him lead you to his motorcycle. His hand was calloused and rough from the years of doing god knows what, his knuckles stained with remnants of a fight not too long ago. Yet, when he latched the spare helmet on your head, you noticed his hands smelt like flour and coffee. If you closed your eyes, it would’ve felt like a white knight leading you onto his horse despite it being the complete opposite. You sat behind Omi, unfamiliar with the position of such a vehicle. Omi checked in on you, looking over his shoulder as he searched for something in your face. Regret, embarrassment, shame, possibly. “I won’t go fast, don’t worry. But, you can still… um… hold on?” When Omi’s voice raised to a question at the end, you didn’t notice his stutter as you hid your face in his shoulder, hugging his waist. Omi’s abdomen tensed for a moment, before relaxing as he let out a deep breath. You would’ve given up anything to know what he was thinking in that moment. You didn’t have time to ask before Omi revved his engine, driving off down the pine-tree ridden road in your small town. True to his word, Omi didn’t drive like he normally did, with no regard for who saw him speeding past some rundown cop. But, Omi patiently cruised down the familiar roads, past the houses with blacked-out windows and everyone asleep. You should’ve felt scared, terrified even. But, you couldn’t. Not when the moon was bigger than ever, with a crown of stars gracing the night’s visage. Not when

this was the most daring thing you’ve ever done up until your junior year, not when the party was miles behind you, not when Omi was this caring of someone he’s never even officially met before. “Can we go a little faster?” After Omi got your confirmation you were serious, you lifted your head to watch the stars pass by in a blur. Yet, Omi’s golden gaze remained consistent, his sights drifting to your bright smile and exhilarating awe. Without realizing, your fists clenched the material of Omi’s jacket whenever a turn was made, your fingers passing over Omi’s stomach. He wondered if you could feel his heart leap whenever your breath ghosted over his already red ears. It was a hour of incoherent conversation and mumbles of nothings before you were outside of your home, your window still open from sneaking out a little while back. When Omi silently stopped, neither of you knew what to do. You didn’t want to let go, nor did you want to accept the best night of your life was suddenly over. Omi turned, both of you much closer than before. His eyes carried the aura of the stars, his smile as consistent as the moon. Fushimi Omi was made of whatever made the night worth staying up for. You never wanted to sleep again. “Can I see you again?” And again, and again, and again. Omi nodded, at a loss of words for some reason. When you gave back his helmet, your hands brushed and you nearly dropped it from the sheer feeling alone. Omi was too considerate to act like he noticed, so he bid you goodbye—I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?—as you disappeared inside. He didn’t leave until he saw you wave from your room, to which he waved back with a twinkle in his eye. When Omi drove away, both of you let out a breath, hands over your hearts at what could’ve been something more. Only time would tell what happened next. SWEAR THAT WAS YESTERDAY, BUT IN TWO WEEKS, I’LL BE MOVING SOUTH AND YOU’D BE MOVING TO A TOWN THAT I HAD NEVER HEARD OF I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME, WHY DID I EVER WANT TO GROW UP? It almost felt like yesterday that everything was so much more simple. When friends didn’t die, when the burden of college didn’t weigh you down, when change didn’t come in the form of extremities. At least one thing stayed the same: Omi and his starry eyes and his moonlit smile. Though, that’s dimmed ever since Nachi. Omi didn’t wear his leather jacket anymore, instead letting you keep it when the evenings got cold for the summertime. He must’ve washed it a thousand times over; you didn’t know if it was because of you or the memories attached to it. Either way, Omi was beginning to stop staring when you showed up in his jacket, the only thing left of his past he’s been trying to erase. A year had passed since the party, but it felt like nothing. It felt like all those nights of stargazing, constellation-finding, and moon-chasing became blurred together, a collage of being alive with someone you had just met. Now, Omi was more than a friend, he was your best friend, a soulmate, maybe something more. Omi’s loud steps remained the same, though he was more quiet this time on the roof. You two laid next to each other, hands getting closer and closer before someone pulled away last second. The summer days passed in a haze, nothing particularly exciting until the sunsets onward, where you two knew exactly what to do. Everything was quiet when it came to being with Omi past midnight, except the unsteady beats of your hearts when the possibility of something more shined. Despite that, it was quiet, something both of you longed for during the day. “Do you ever think about what the stars will look like at Yosei?” When you asked, Omi slightly frowned, as if he forgot he was moving to the heart of Veludo Way in just two weeks time. After careful consideration of your curiosity, Omi stretched his arms, resting his head upon them as he seemed to search for something. He always did that, Omi never thought anything was simple.

“No… they won’t look like they do now, I suppose. It won’t be the same.” Without you there by my side, both of you ignored the unsaid words that came with the statement. You nodded, knowing you felt the same way. Veludo Way was a distant world away, Yosei University was taking your Omi away. Light years away. “How have your brothers reacted to the news?” At that, the tension that was ebbing away at the conversation eroded, and Omi’s light came back as usual. Omi ran his free hand through his hair, smiling at some distant memory he wanted to share with you. “Not any good, that’s for sure. Kai & Gaku can’t imagine Pops waking them up since I always did. It’s gonna be a big adjustment for them to actually take responsibility of their own lives.” Although Omi rolled his eyes, he did so fondly whenever he thought about his two younger brothers. You knew he was immensely proud of the young men they’ve been growing into, it was a sense of pride that he had instilled inside him ever since you’ve met him. Ever since you saw those faded stickers still on his helmet, you knew who placed those. “Of course, a life without you isn’t worth imagining.” Shit. You meant to say it lightheartedly, but it came out heavier than expected. With that, a quietness settled between you two, both of you trying to find the right words for the occasion of leaving each other. “You’ll be fine without me, I know it.” But, I don’t like it like that, selfishly enough. I know you’ll be better than ever, but I wish… When a shooting star passed out of the corner of your eye, you pointed it out with the same junior-year awe as if this was your first life. Omi was glad to know the news was right; the meteor shower of the season was tonight, as if it was a last hurrah before both of you left this small town for good. “Make a wish!” I wish we had more time. Despite the wish pulling on his heart strings, Omi turned his head, your side profile greeting him with a smile. The stars were reflected in your eyes, and Omi wondered what a sunrise would look like. It was too late now. “Let’s see a sunrise together when summer comes around, okay?” You nodded, turning and seeing the moon. You didn’t make a wish, not when you had everything you wanted right in your sight. Omi took your hand again, and it was softer than last time he offered it. Omi brought your conjoined hands to his lips, murmuring something about a promise before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You missed the final shooting star of the night, instead you saw it pass in Omi’s gentle eyes as he leaned in. “Thank you for the summer, my lucky shooting star.” You thought of a wish as Omi kissed you. I wish we were something more. YOU SAID YOU’LL SEE ME WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER WE WON’T HAVE TO WORK SO WE’RE GONNA DO WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANNA ‘CAUSE WE KNOW THAT ONE DAY, WE’LL BE GONE FROM EACH OTHER Despite only being a year away, your hometown almost felt unfamiliar. New employees manned the typical shops you used to frequent, a new graduating class was celebrating, and overall, people were now older. But, Omi didn’t change. Not with his singular scar on his cheek, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, his warm touch when he hugs you. You heard his bag drop at his front door first before feeling his arms hug you, his words comforting as you two embrace after so, so long. “Welcome home.” You greeted him back, the words sticking to your skin like a sheen layer of sweat that always came with the incoming summer heat. Home… was it your traditional suburb with kids playing in the street and a generation of the same mailmen home? Or, was it something else? You felt Omi wrap his arm around your shoulders, his muscle as present as ever as he guided you to visit his family, the brothers happily welcoming you both into the Fushimi household. Home was Omi, that was all. You exhaled, bending down to ruffle Kai’s hair and praise Gaku for how big he’s gotten. After you politely greeted Omi’s father, to which he harrumphed and insisted you had to call him by his name at this point, you knew this

was home as well. Home for Omi, and due to the open hearts of the Fushimi boys, home for you, too.

You found yourself in Omi’s bedroom, something you weren’t familiar with. It was still clean, organized, and full of warm tones upon black walls, surely something attempting to cover his past delinquent days. As the door clicked close, Omi gently tugged you onto his bed beside him, bringing out his gaze reserved only for you. You didn’t hesitate to lean your head on his shoulder, feeling at ease. Omi took your hand, his grip careful but verging onto desperation. As if being away from you for so long had taken everything in him. You knew that wasn’t true by any means, but Omi’s shuddering breath and hand squeeze tried to say otherwise. When you cupped Omi’s face, he relaxed in your touch, leaning into your hands as he looked down on you; you could tell Omi was a bit embarrassed to let you see how emotional he was getting at the reunion. You didn’t expect a man who’s life was rough around the edges to have the most sincere of hearts, but Omi was always like this. Always gentle, always kind, always gentle in every way. “I missed you, too.” When you said those words, Omi moved forward as if making up for lost time, both of you falling upon the bed in a heap of giggles and whispers. It was everything but I love you because that would change everything, something neither of you needed during this time. Instead, a combination of I hope summer lasts forever and I could only think of you when it was a full moon that filled the room of someone you wish you had knew sooner. WE’LL HAVE LIVES IN TWO DIFFERENT SUBURBS WE’LL HAVE FAMILIES WITH DIFFERENT LOVERS BUT FOR NOW, I KNOW I’LL SEE YOU WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER It was the first night you had spent in your own bedroom before a knock sounded on your window. When you sleepily opened your eyes, Omi’s figure was illuminated by the moon, his eyes still warm of starlight despite being shadowed. You hurried to unlatch the window to let him in, not bothering to question how he managed to sneak to your room so silently. Although busting into each other’s room wasn’t an impossibility, it was only on rare occasions that you two ever encroached on such intimate territory. Though, neither of you were in high school anymore. Perhaps, it was different now. “What time is it?” You mumbled, your helping hand lingering longer than one would expect of a friend. Omi didn’t mind, he never did, as he looked around for something. When Omi located his jacket still hung around your desk chair, he wrapped it around your shoulders as the chilly breeze entered through the open window. “Time to fulfill our senior year promise. Ready?” You didn’t think twice and followed Omi outside of the window, knowing at this point you’d trust him with your life. Omi knew your backyard like the back of his hand as he avoided setting any sprinklers or devices off, not needing your guidance. You watched his broad back attempt to fit through small spaces, it took everything in you not to laugh at how ridiculous all of this was. Sneaking around like there was still curfew in place, as if both of you weren’t legally adults. By now, Omi had reserved his spare helmet only for you, meaning it was second nature for him to close the clasp snugly. Although this time, his eyes melted at the sight of you, as if in disbelief you were standing in front of him after all of this time. Tiredly, you rested your head against Omi’s shoulder as he made sure you were situated in the back of his motorcycle, something he had left at home. Omi drove off, the speed just right so that it’d blow your hair back the way you liked it. Despite being on the vehicle a countless number of times, it still took your breath every time of how fortunate you were. You tightly hugged his waist, wondering if he could feel the butterflies against your ribcage. Before you could ask why both of you were up so early, Omi parked in the same spot as always when things became a bit much.

It was off closer towards the woods, where a picnic area besides the lake still had the same paint from a decade ago. The grass tickled your ankles as you hopped off, admiring the calm waters before a bird chirped. At that, Omi walked up beside you, his footsteps always loud in your presence. A softer hand gently held onto your chin, forcing you to look up. You noticed the water reflecting the sky first as hues of orange and blue dominated your vision. It was the first sunrise you’ve been awake for, and you were sharing it with the man of the night himself. But, when you glanced at Omi, you realized he wasn’t just made of stars and moonlight. The sunrise emphasized the warmth of his eyes even more as a golden glow surrounded his happy smile. Omi was everything worth staying up for, everything from the sunrises to the sunsets and more. I love you, you wanted to say but didn’t. It would change everything, it would mean that the possibility of “something more” could become “nothing”. You couldn’t, neither could Omi. Perhaps… this was all it ever could be. YOU’VE BEEN BUSY, THAT’S OKAY I STILL CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME FOR THE SUMMER When you had driven off back to your college, the first text from Omi was reminiscent of a simpler time, where kissing on rooftops was the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done. “I’ll see you next summer, okay?” It made you pull over and rest your forehead against the wheel, keeping your eyes closed as you felt like the sun was too bright. It was still too hot, the clouds were too big, the sky too blue. It was too much, too far away from Omi who was heading the other direction. You wished your head was resting against Omi’s shoulder as he drove a little more over the speed limit underneath the moon and stars. You wished the sun was beaming onto both of you after witnessing its earliest hours. You wished you were with Omi for every moment in between the best memories of your life. Summer was such a cruel concept, a promise that could be taken away at any time. I wish we had more time, you thought, knowing there was nothing else you could do. Omi put his phone in his pocket, knowing it was time to leave after seeing you off. Life was so uncertain, it’s as if both of you knew this was the last summer you two would share before even more things changed. But, despite only having three or so years, it didn’t feel like enough. If only he told you he loved you at that sunrise, if only he didn’t just kiss you without explaining what it meant, if only he could drive you around for just a day longer. If only… I wish we were something more, Omi thought, but it was for nothing. I love you, you typed but put your phone in your pocket. The possibility of something more became nothing.