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kingandfireheart · 3 years

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The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife—Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

#LONG post #lady of autumn #lucien vanserra #autumn court #beron vanserra #eris vanserra #helion spell cleaver #acotar #lady of the autumn court #forest house #a court of wings and ruin #high lord's meeting #a court of silver flames #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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emsylcatac · 3 years

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“You’re pretty”

Summary

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

Read it on AO3

For @rosekasa following this post ♥

(Hope the English is alright, I wasn’t beta-read!)

* * * * *

“Could you pass a hair clamp on to me, please?”

Marinette tries to ignore the feeling of his arm against her as his hand appears in front of her. She swallows, once, praying he wouldn’t hear the sound.

“Sure,” she half-speaks as she reaches forward for the clamp and drops it in his open palm, careful not to brush his skin with hers.

He doesn’t seem to notice her nervousness as he thanks her enthusiastically, and she can see him clamping a handful of her hair in the mirror in front of her just as she can sense his hands running through them. It’s just hair, Marinette thinks, she shouldn’t feel more than something pulling at her scalp yet his touch travels through her entirely.

She sees Adrien bending to grasp the curling iron, before he takes a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“Tell me if it’s too hot or if I’m burning you,” his breath says on her neck.

Oh, it is too hot and Marinette feels her cheeks burning, and she can only hope the mirror won’t betray her. However, she can’t exactly tell him that.

“Okay,” she barely whispers.

She watches how Adrien skillfully rolls her hair around the iron, and waits a few seconds before releasing it all in a beautiful and perfect curl. Marinette resists the urge to pull on it and feel it bounce, not wanting to destroy his work or worse—brushing her finger with his.

Adrien then grabs a second strand of hair and repeats the same gestures as before, modeling a new curl to accompany the previous one, then a third, and a forth. She watches him do in silence, wondering how many times he’s done it before, when and with who.

She could ask him. She could. But she doesn’t know how to break the silence that is starting to weigh upon her.

When Adrien releases yet another curl, Marinette straightens up a little. She gives herself a pep-look in the mirror, and starts to count to five. At five, she’ll ask him the question.

One. Two. Three.

Adrien detaches her hair only to clamp some other on the top of her head, once again letting her feel his hands sending shivers on her scalp.

Five comes all too soon and Marinette takes a deep breath and holds it for one, two, five seconds before releasing it in a sigh as she chickens out, again.

She glances at Adrien to see him poking his tongue out in concentration and presses her lips in a thin line. She’ll count to ten this time, and at ten, she’ll talk. For real.

Adrien starts humming a song she doesn’t recognise, and she almost forgets her counting until he seems to realise what he’s doing and suddenly stops. She wishes he had continued as she thinks nine, ten and—

“Where did you learn to do that?”

She feels a little proud when Adrien smiles in the mirror, and a little relieved as the tension slowly eases up.

“With modelling, there’s all sorts of hairdressers around to prepare the models. I like watching them work, it’s weirdly fascinating,” he says. She wonders why it was so hard to ask him that. “One day, I asked this one who had looooong hair—her name was Cécile—if she could teach me how to do it. She just gave me the iron and sat on a chair and let me play with her hair how I wished.” He chuckles and shakes his head, as if recalling an old joke. “Let’s say it looked easier than it was. But she let me try again the day after, and the day after… Until I got the hang of it.” He shrugs with a smile, a little proud but a little shy at the same time.

“That’s amazing,” she comments, finding herself gaining confidence. “She sounds really nice.”

“She was,” Adrien enthuses. “It’s too bad she had to move in the south. But I suppose that’s how it is.”

Marinette nods, not knowing what else to add.

Adrien resumes his work on her hair, clamping and unclamping them then and there as he goes.

As the silence settles again, Marinette finds her mouth speaking against her own will. “You can sing again if you want. I don’t mind.”

Her eyes widdens comically in the mirror as she realises what she’s said, and Adrien startles and looks at her in the reflection. “You...you don’t?”

“I...no,” she finds herself saying. “I like...I like it.”

She’s rewarded with a bright smile, and a foreign kind of glint in his eyes as he answers. “Thanks. But you should sing with me too.”

He doesn’t let her the time to protest as he starts humming a popular song she knows she heard on the radio but can’t remember the name of.

When he glances at her insistently in the mirror, she understands he’s waiting for her. Shyly, she joins in the humming, mindful to not be louder than he was.

He seems satisfied as he smiles, resuming curling her hair. His voice reverberates in her body and chest as he hums close to her ear, and she lets her eyes close to enjoy the sound and the feel of him caressing her hair.

All too soon, his humming trails off and he turns the iron off and unplugs it before putting it back on its stand.

“Psssst, Marinette,” he whispers, prompting her eyes to open. “Do you also hum English songs when you don’t know the lyrics?”

She giggles. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone,” she whispers back.

She feels him chuckles as much as she hears him. “Me too. Otherwise I pretend I know the words but really I’m singing nonsense. Only when I’m alone with my piano, though.”

She is about to answer him back when she feels his hands in her hair, closer than before and her face promptly catches fire. She watches hypnotised as he runs his fingers through them, readjusting some rebel strands as he pleases, ruffling them so they look a little bit wilder and a little less polished. He smiles as he goes in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with whatever it is he’s making of her hair. She knows she’s gaping but she doesn’t bother to close her mouth.

Then, slowly, Adrien untangles his hands from her hair and let them come to rest on her shoulders instead. She sees his face coming next to hers on her left, his hair tingling her cheek and neck and she has to remember what it’s like to breath again. She wonders if he can see her eyes glued to him instead of herself, but if he does he doesn’t acknowledge it as he smiles tenderly at her reflection.

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

“Don’t you agree?” he goes on, unaware of the effects he has on her. He squeezes her shoulders once as he says it, and Marinette wishes his hands could stay here forever, with the sound of his voice oh so close to her ear. It makes her want to be held closer by him and to hide from him at the same time, a weird mixture of sensations she can only dream to begin to understand.

It’s an easy question and a simple touch, and yet it makes her lose all her resteint.

“I...sure? Maybe?”

She hears him smile. He brings his hands around her face, with only the tips of his fingers touching her cheeks and jaw, a soft pressure she can barely sense. He tilts her head up, gently asking her to look at herself this time, to really look at herself.

“It’s not maybe, Marinette. You are.”

And he could have spoken loud and enthusiastically, but Adrien chose to murmur his words instead. He delivers them with such an admiration that Marinette feels, at this very moment, that she is falling in love with him. It makes her wonder how much more in love can someone be and how much place there’s in her heart to contain all of it.

Seeing her reflection being in love, she finds herself agreeing with him.

“I’m pretty,” she whispers.

Adrien grins at that. “You know what else is pretty?”

She bits back the ‘you’ she wants to say, and settles o a questioning frown instead.

Adrien’s fingers delicately slide from her face to her neck and hover above it, barely touching her skin. “Your smile,” he adds in a breath.

She barely has the time to gasp at hearing him speaking with a raw honesty she envies that she feels his fingers tickling her neck and squeals as a first laugh escapes her.

Adrien bursts into laughter, and decides to attack her ribs instead. She tries to wriggle out of his grasp, to turn around to face him as himself and not as his mirrored-self, but it’s too late; she managed to catch her smile and he just proved to her that she’s pretty, all carefree and joy spilling from her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she tells him once they’ve both calmed down.

“You’re welcome.” He frowns. “I didn’t even ask you if you liked your hair.”

She turns to the mirror, and runs a hand through her now messy, wild curls, repeating the motion his hands had done in her hair earlier and smiles.

“I love them.”

#miraculous #ml fanfic #adrinette #mine #myshitwriting

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 3 years

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Hey Issei have you seen Rias anywhere and well- uh why is your face red and are you feeling alright

(Got a little carried away with this, but I was really happy to finally write some pure smut for High School DxD, or any fandom other than RWBY really. It's nice to change things up every now and then.)

Issei looked out of the crack from the partially opened door to his room. One of his hands was on the edge and making sure the door didn't open any more than it already was. With as much composure as he could muster, and as straight of a face he could make, Issei responded, "N-nope, haven't seen the p-president! W-why are you a-asking?"

As the person at the door explained their reasoning for being there, Issei couldn't care less and was barely paying any attention to them talking.

On the other side of the door was something that was infinitely more interesting to Issei than what they were saying.

Namely Rias, the very woman that they were talking about, being completely naked and giving Issei quite the private show. As well as the best handjob that he'd ever received. True it was the first one that he’d ever had (by someone other than himself), but that didn't matter right now.

Rias was smiling confidently as her right hand gently glided along Issei’s shaft. Her grip was just tight enough that her hand had just a little resistance for him to feel amazing. She had no issue moving her hand along his cock either as she had used almost a complete handful of the “secret” bottle of lube that Issei had stashed in his nightstand for his special JO time. As she pumped along, nearly no noise was made aside from a slight ‘sclik’ sound. From base to tip, she rubbed and rolled her hand over every inch of the veiny rod in her grasp.

The handjob wasn’t the only thing that was distracting Issei. Rias’ free left hand was also doing some wonderful work of its own! It roamed over her massive bust, playing with her tits. Bouncing them up and down one at a time, together, then teasing her own nipples. She was having a field day with them, much to Issei's enjoyment and future pole polishing sessions as he committed absolutely everything he was seeing to memory permanently.

Rias was also enjoying her self-breast play. She bit her lip as her hand squeezed her sensitive boob again. Such a simple thing felt so good~! Her nipples were even more sensitive, so she made sure to give them just as much attention.

"Mmmuuuh y-yeah, sorry. J-just haven't s-seen her!" Issei's composure slipped a little as a moan snuck out past his lips, but he played it off. He was silently praying to Satan for this interruption to just leave already. (He didn't exactly think about how much of a terrible idea that was given his current situation, but that would just have to be an awkward problem for future Issei.)

Rias finally decided to kick up her game a little. She wanted to see just how much will power Issei had. How long he could keep it together~.

She sank down to her knees without a sound. She pulled her slippery hand off Issei's cock stared at the dick that was now right in front of her face. It glistened with the coating of lube on it, and was twitching repeatedly. It, and Issei himself, were practically begging for more attention.

Well, who was Rias to deny her cute little servant that attention~?

Rias slightly parted her soft lips open a tiny and slipped Issei's dick into her mouth, dragging her lips along it the entire way. She took at least half of Issei's shaft into her mouth before closing her lips around it, and pulling her head back. The lube and her own saliva made her lips glide along the skin with complete ease.

Slowly, Rias started rocking her head back and forth and began to actually suck on Issei's cock.

To Issei's credit, he didn't blow his load right away, despite Rias' blowjob feeling amazing. Although, he did feel his face scrunch up as he did his best not to cum. It probably looked really strange to the person on the other side of the door. Issei didn't really notice it though as he quickly ended their 'conversation' with, "Sorry, d-don't knowwheresheis! BYE!" and slammed the door shut. As soon as it clicked closed, Issei locked it and leaned against the door. "R-Rias... t-tha- HAAAH!"

Issei didn't finish that thought as one of Rias' hands reached back up to Issei's crotch and started playing with his balls. It started with lightly brushing her fingertips along the bottom of them, almost like tickling them, then she took them in her soft hand and gently rolled them around. All without slowing down her head bobbing.

Rias glanced up at the love of her life and almost smiled around his cock. He just looked so cute and innocent the way he was now. He was definitely the biggest pervert she'd ever met, but he would get so awkward whenever Rias or anyone got intimate with him. She honestly thought it was endearing~.

After almost another full minute of Rias sucking on his cock, playing with his balls, and Issei's face scrunching up while lightly moaning from all of the pleasure, Issei came. And from the teasing build up that he'd been put through, he came a lot.

There was no warning given to Rias other than a few quick twitches from Issei's cock that she felt in her mouth before she felt the first spurt of cum leave his dick. Rias looked directly up at Issei and her eyes locked with his as he finished inside her mouth.

Spurts of Issei's cum splashed into her mouth and quickly pooled up on her tongue. Rias moaned deeply in the back of her throat as the salty, yet very powerful and addicting, taste of the man she loves cum completely took over her mouth.

During this delicious meal, one of her hands had traveled down to her pussy and furiously started to play with herself. In a flash, three of her fingers were quickly pumping into her soaked pussy. A small puddle was even starting to form beneath her.

Issei's cock slowly stopped unloading cum, much to Rias's disappointment. However, she still had plenty~.

After Rias didn't feel any more cum coming out, she let her hand drop from Issei's balls, basically silently giving Issei the permission to pull away, which he did. He panted heavily and pulled his hips back and his softening cock slipped out of her mouth, leaving a bridge of saliva between it and her perfect lips.

Rias opened her mouth and showed off the sizable pool of white, thick cum in her mouth to Issei before swallowing it all. She just barely managed to swallow it all in one gulp, but she did it nonetheless. Her mouth now empty, and feeling very pleased with herself, Rias licked her lips and stood up. As she got to full height again, her wet hand left her pussy and rested just above it. "That was excellent Issei~. You really managed to hold back for a while this time."

Issei, a total blushing mess and still breathing pretty heavily, looked at her incredulously. "R-Rias! W-we almost got caught! Why did you keep going?!"

Rias giggled confidently at him and got really close, pressing her big tits against his chest. That immediately drew Issei's attention downwards and he barely registered what she said next.

"Well it was their fault for interrupting us~. Pretty much everyone knows that this is our time together. We were having such a fun time before they came. I didn't want to just stop and kill the mood because of it~. Besides, I felt you get so much harder when I started stroking you off behind the door~. You enjoyed it, didn't you, my naughty little pervert~?"

Issei was still staring at her rack, but nodded slightly unconsciously.

Rias playfully bounced her chest for him, finding it humorous as his head nodded with them. "Now that they're gone though, we can finally get back to what we were doing in the first place~."

Now THAT got Issei's attention. He stared back up at the redhead beauty just as she walked past him, giving him a kiss on one cheek and a pat on the other with her hand, the one that was still slightly wet from her pussy. Issei spun around quickly and watched as his girlfriend sashayed over to his bed, her hips swaying hypnotically, and took a seat on the edge. She scooted back onto it further, her tits bouncing wonderfully as she did so, and locked eyes with Issei again.

Her legs slowly spread open and showed off her glistening pussy to Issei. "You have some unfinished business with this Issei~. Please don't leave me waiting any longer."

Issei's boner quickly started coming back in full force. He swallowed some spit in anticipation, and then said. "Y-yes ma'am!" Then made his way over to Rias.

Five minutes later, everyone in the building was well aware of where Rias was~. All they had to do was follow the sounds of a bed creaking and her screams of ecstasy.

#high school dxd #issei hyoudou #rias gremory #issei x rias #rias x issei #ask #non sfw #lemon #anonymous

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Text

The Pull

Summary: Alternative Universe. Vampire Henry. Henry, Crown Prince of the Vampires is avoiding his responsibilities because of his mother's fate. When Henry finds his mate, the circumstances are eerily similar to his mother's. Rather than risking his mate's life, Henry chooses to run, but can he run from his fate?

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: mention of death, mention of abortion (although it didn't happen), and swearing

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter Two

Rowena POV

"David, I can't wear this!" I complained on the phone. I held up the dress again. "It's just too much, too revealing."

It was a simple white silk floor-length skirt, but the top of the dress was two long vertical pieces of silk, barely wide enough to cover my breasts, which crossed at the back before wrapping around my waist and tied in a bow on my lower back. There was no way I could wear a bra. It would only take a slight wrong move, and there would be an embarrassing nipple slip.

"Yes, you can," my brother said. "Lawrence had it made for you to wear as a gift. He wants to meet you and make a good impression." Lawrence was David's partner, they had been together for over a year, but I was yet to met him. Lawrence and David seemed to travel together an awful lot, so it had been challenging to find time for us to get together.

"Have you seen it?" I asked.

"Of course," David replied. I was surprised. David was my older brother and had always been a little protective of me, especially since our parents died when I was 15 and he was 20. Maybe he had finally let that go considering I was now 26.

"You know I'd never wear something like that. It's gorgeous, but it's too revealing for me."

"Rowena, it's Halloween. It's an excuse for excess." I rolled my eyes. For David, being a day that ended in 'y' was an excuse for excess.

"Why does your boyfriend want to see me in this?" It just seemed over the top for a party. I gathered that Lawrence was wealthy, but still, it's just a Halloween party.

"Because he wants you to fit in. Honestly, you'll stick out less wearing that than anything else. Besides, no one knows you there, and you'll have a mask. Just pretend you're someone else."

I grumbled. "What time did Lawrence say the stylist was coming?"

Although I couldn't see him, I could hear David's victorious smile through the phone. "At six pm. The driver will be there at eight."

"That seems late, David," I said. "I won't arrive until nearly nine."

"I know, but that is Lawrence's style."

"Promise you won't leave me alone." I wasn't afraid of being alone at parties usually but by the sounds of this one, the dress and the fact that I was having my hair and makeup done professionally made it feel like a big deal.

"Lawrence and I will take good care of you," David promised.

I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Feeling only a little more confident after the phone call, I jumped in the shower, washed my hair, and shaved my legs for the first time in weeks. I put on a robe and slippers and went up to the main house to see Charlie since I had half an hour to kill before the stylist arrived.

Charlie was staying there tonight with Alice while I went out. He had his own room and often slept there now that he was getting older and wanted space from me. Charlie and I mostly ate our meals up at the house and just kept basics in our two-bedroom flat above the old stables.

Charlie and Alice were sitting together at the dining table, playing with a random assortment of lego pieces. "Hey, Mum. I made this for you." Charlie handed me a flower made from the blocks. He was such a sweetheart of a boy.

"Awww, thanks, Babybear. I love it." I kissed the top of his head and sat with them.

"I thought you had to get ready for tonight," Alice asked.

"I have an hour," I replied.

"You're still going, aren't you?" Alice asked. She seemed more eager for me to go than I was. Alice was Charlie's paternal grandmother. Charlie's dad, Alex, had been my boyfriend when I was 17. Despite being on the pill, I fell pregnant, and Alex tried to pressure me into an abortion and refused to be a part of his life. Alice had been horrified by the way Alex had treated me. In an unexpected turn of events, she had stepped in to help raise Charlie. Charlie rarely saw Alex, but Alice saw that we both wanted nothing. The woman was a saint.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"It'll be good for you," Alice said, squeezing my hand.

"I know." I sighed.

"Charlie, go get Nanny a glass of water, please. My throat is feeling dry," Alice said. She had something to say to me outside of Charlie's ears. Being a kind and helpful kid, Charlie immediately got up and went to get her one. He made me so proud.

As soon as he left the room, Alice said, "Rowena, don't feel guilty getting out there again."

"How can you say that?" I asked. I had tried dating a few times over the years. It always ended disastrously. Always my fault too. I had developed severe commitment issues.

"Charlie is my grandson, and I want his mother to be happy. Not lonely and depressed. It would be best if you had a life beyond Charlie. I've been telling you that for years."

Charlie came back with a book, and Alice read to him. As mothers often are, I was struck by how handsome my little boy was. His blonde sun-bleached hair and deep brown eyes were framed by a face that had lost nearly all of its childhood fat. At nine years old, he was almost as tall as me already, and he would probably take after his father in that regard. In fact, his eyes were the only thing that came from my side of the family as they were the same colour as David's and my Dad's. Charlie looked so much like his father, sometimes it hurts to look at him.

Kissing him again, on the cheek this time, I said goodbye to Charlie, told him to be a good boy for Nanny and went back to our flat above the garage.

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

I arrived at Lawrence's house not long after the sun had set. House was probably too humble a word to describe it. It was a borderline castle. I had thought Alice's family was wealthy, but this was another level. It was like something out of the Great Gatsby.

The car drove around the circular driveway and pulled up near the front door. A valet opened the car door, and he escorted me into the house, where he told my name to a butler who asked me to follow him.

Looking around the room, I was grateful to David for insisting I wear the dress. Everybody was dressed like it was a Hollywood awards show, and I mean everybody. Not to mention they all looked like actors or models. I had never in my life been around so many beautiful people. And I don't mean just beautiful because they were thin. There were people of all shapes and sizes, but everyone moved with grace and ethereal ease. They seemed so other.

This was crazy. Who the hell was my brother mixed up with? This whole night must have cost a fortune. Beyond a fortune! All for a Halloween party?

I was led from room to room, the house full of beautiful creatures. More than that, the house was decorated in a way that would put Versailles to shame. The decadence of the furnishings was lush and rich. Every piece seemed to be a precious antique but shone like it was brand new. Gold leaf decorated the cornices, and priceless framed artworks, tapestries and mirrors filled every wall. Even the wooden floor was an intricate parquetry design that appears to have taken years to lay.

At first, I thought I imagined it, but I noticed that everybody stared at me as I moved through each room. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Did I look so different from everyone else? I supposed I did, but the eyes following me made me thankful for the mask.

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been, I was taken to a large hall and presented. Yes, presented. What the fuck?

My escort stopped outside the room and spoke to a man standing just inside the door. The man rapped his cane on the floor three times and thundered, "Rowena, sister of David, Inamorato of Duke Lawrence." An eerie silence fell as every face turned to me. Some even bowed their heads. What on earth was going on?

"Rowena!" David was at my side, clutching my hands to his chest. "I've missed you so." He leaned over and kissed both my cheeks. Everybody in the room seemed to return to normal, and sounds of chatter resumed. David was wearing a mask and wore an elegant dark grey suit. He looked so different. David has always been handsome, but he looked so unlike his usual self, and I couldn't pinpoint the difference. I didn't even have the words to describe the change. I know it had been months since we had seen each other, but it wasn't that he had lost weight or gained muscle. What I could see of his face was inconsistent with my memories of him. Then I saw his eyes.

"David, what the..." David cut me off and embraced me. His smell was mouth-watering, and I wondered what cologne he was wearing. He had never smelt like that before.

"Come, meet Lawrence!" David exclaimed, gripping my hand tightly. Maybe he had put on muscle because he was stronger than I remembered.

David lead me further into the room. I followed, but my head was spinning. Why did everything look so beautiful but feel so... unreal?

"Lawrence, my love, this is Rowena," David said.

The man who sat before me took my breath away. I had no word to describe him other than impressive. He wasn't tall or large, but he seemed to take up all the space in the room as if by looking at him, your eyes couldn't see anything else. His skin was like a midnight sky lit up by the moon, which seemed to reflect the light as it was so smooth, flawless and radiant. His hair bounced with large curls, and although it was dark too, it seemed to shine with its own light.

As Lawrence stood, his movements were so polished they almost had a serpentine grace. His white lace mask framed his eyes, black with a red rim around the pupil, just like David's. Lawrence came towards me, and I was captivated, struck immobile by the force of his presence. Then all of a sudden, the fear left me as though it was never there. I sucked in air, not realising I hadn't taken a breath since I laid eyes on him.

Lawrence grasped my hands to his chest, just like my brother had. "Oh David, she is lovely, isn't she?" He lifted my hands to his lips and kissed both of them before lifting my arms wide and inspecting me. "She does look luscious in this dress. I do have excellent taste, do I not?"

I looked to David, who was beaming proudly like he had passed a test by bringing me here and meeting Lawrence's approval. Stunned, I looked again at David's smile. Something was wrong with it.

Lawrence was still talking, "You were right that she would be a hard one to crack. She seems to see many things others don't. Including you, by the way." David laughed at Lawrence's observation.

I tried to speak, to ask again what was going on, but nothing came out. I kept trying to breathe but I felt suffocated. The more I tried, the less air seemed to come in.

David grabbed my shoulders and caught my gaze. His voice was solid and musical, and the force of his words almost made me fall. "Rowena, it's alright. You can breathe." And all at once, I could.

"This dress is too tight." I managed to say.

"Nonsense," Lawrence said dismissively, "it's perfect. He is going to love it."

"He?" I questioned.

Lawrence sighed and glanced at David. They looked at each other for a few moments, then David took me by the arm and led me to a cluster of sofas. "Come, sister, sit with me and let's catch up."

Even the way he spoke seemed to change. It can't have been that long since I'd seen him. I thought back and realised I hadn't seen him in about two years. We occasionally spoke on the phone, but years had passed since I had physically seen him.

Lawrence left us mingled around the room, which I saw now was a ballroom. Some people danced, some drank wine, and others socialised. Something was wrong with all of it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

David started to talk to me, asked me about little Charlie. I went to get my phone to show him some pictures and realised I must have left my bag in the limo. Before I could tell David that, he said, "never mind, the driver works for Lawrence. He has it. You can get it before you leave."

How did he know where I had left my phone? This was too much. "David, what's going on? There's something wrong here. This place is... off."

I suddenly felt bewildered, like I couldn't concentrate on anything. I felt a curious pull towards the back of the hall. I stood and looked back and started to walk towards the doors. It was like I was trapped in a gravitational pull towards... something. Without warning, a spontaneous feeling of arousal hit me, and my body was on fire. I let out an audible moan. I felt a desperate call come from between my legs to ease the rapidly growing craving. And not just by anyone, by Him. Wait, who was Him?

David held my arm and tried to lead me back, but I wouldn't allow it. I struggled for him to let me go. David was about to say something when another announcement was made, "The Crown Prince, Henry, Son of Alfred, King of all Sanguisuge."

I looked first to David to question what on earth that meant when I caught sight of the Prince.

It's Him.

I felt like I was falling, plummeting to the ground. The floor rushed to meet me, and my vision went dark.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

@henryobsessed

#henry cavill #fanfic #alternate universe #Henry Cavill vampire #alexander skarsgard #werewolf #vampire #henry x ofc

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korpuskat · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 1 - Public [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader, Hawks/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,290 Summary: Keigo discovers something about the Paranormal Liberation Front he’d rather not have. Contains: Public sex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, one-sided Hawks/Reader

=====

Hawks never expected the Liberation Army's influence had already spread so far. It was one thing to see the hundreds, thousands of people in the streets below or in their stupidly lavish headquarters. They had money, believers, they were threat enough- but it hadn't quiet hit home just how expansive it had become until he pushes open the ostentatious doors to the conference room. A simple report in, he thinks, any excuse to finally meet Shigaraki.

Keigo, for all his years of practiced coolness and carefully regulated distance, flinches. A single twitch of his eye, before he's playing it off as amused surprise. Nobody else seems to notice, nobody else seems to care. Tomura Shigaraki, the same damn villain he's been chasing for three months is finally before him- and it isn't even Shigaraki's face that Keigo can't look away from.

It's you.

Nobody else in the room pays any attention to the display at the head of the table, everyone averting their eyes in either self-preservation or genuine detachment. And Keigo can't look away. In his right hand, Shigaraki holds a tablet, reading through something unseen- and with the left, the half-glove of his prosthetic is wrapped around your throat as you bounce on his dick. With the terrible embalmed hand over Shigaraki's face, Keigo can't make out his expression, but with how frequently he scrolls, rage boils threateningly in his stomach at the thought that it might be disinterest.

You, you- Shigaraki is fucking you- the Liberation Army had infiltrated Hawks' own agency, had grabbed the cute little sidekick he'd kept close under his wing just to intimidate him and-

"Hawks?" You voice warbles out, weak and lilting. He sees it on your face now: your eyes half-lidded, mouth hanging open with lips swollen from kisses... or bites. Keigo's dick hardens immediately, shame only making the ache more acute. No, this isn't to intimidate him, it's merely some whim of Shigaraki's. And you- you just-

"Quiet." Shigaraki says, low and easy in your ear- and Keigo feels it with is feathers. There's no real threat to it any more than in the hand at your throat. It's about ownership, about making sure you don't forget your place in the room. It's as effective as it is simple. Your head falls back on his narrow shoulder, eyes closing as you sigh. Even hidden under the table, Keigo listens, burns with jealousy at the rhythmic shifting of your body over Shigaraki's. Every single feather on his back reports in with the near mute shhlk shhlk shhlk and the tiny, airy noise of your sighs.

"What do you have to report, Hawks?" Re-Destro is the first to speak to him.

Keigo wants to rip his throat out.

"I've been working to spread the beliefs of the Liberation Army!" He says instead, feels the aloof grin spread across his face like a mask. He ignores the twitching of his cock on his thigh, reminds himself of the stakes. Keigo hardly breathes as he reports in his saccharine tone, forces his eyes to slide across the other faces at the table.

He pauses only at Dabi. Everyone else had the good sense to be looking at Hawks or their tablets, but Dabi, no- Dabi makes no attempt to hide how he stares at Keigo's sidekick. As if everything else wasn't bad enough, to have that amoral, scarred bastard leering at you...

He's too well trained to let his smile falter, to pretend he could end this fight now- but his feathers prickle with the desire to be buried in the lieutenants' necks.

Re-Destro dismisses him with the same faux cheerful grin. Keigo lets himself look at you one more time- your mouth hanging open, drool spilling from the corner of your lips- before turning to leave. When he tucks the scapular feather between the door and the floor, he tells himself it's for surveillance on the League. They speak- he knows they do- but all he can hear, all he can feel is your little whines of desperation.

Keigo's cock aches and he can't stop himself- he ducks into the first dark corner he can find and pushes his pants open, fists himself without pretense. It should be him. Keigo had thought about having you cockwarm him at his desk more times than he can count and Shigaraki's joined with the Liberation Army not even two weeks ago and you're riding him like- like-

"Everybody out." Shigaraki demands. Keigo's hand stills on his cock, waits- but the lieutenants must be used to this order because they exit the conference room without preamble. Not a single one even looks near his secluded hiding spot-

and what Keigo hears through his feather makes his hand tighten. First, a harsh thump- and your sweet voice moaning. The sound of Shigaraki fucking you are louder now, the harsh slap of skin against skin and the wet noises of your pussy in between- Keigo can't help himself. He matches Shigaraki's pace, closes his eyes and pretends you're moaning for him, that it's his cock plunging into you over and over-

Your moans raise half a pitch and he can only imagine what Shigaraki's doing to you- in Keigo's mind he's rubbing your clit, making you writhe beneath him. Maybe he isn't that far off.

"Thank you, oh, thank you!" You cry so sweetly and fuck, you had to have been trained to do that and- your moaning crescendos. Keigo cums, bites the side of his free hand to keep quiet, to focus on all your little noises- even if most are drowned out by the noise of your pussy still being fucked until- a groan that's hardly more than a choked-off breath. A warbling little thing through grit teeth. Bastard.

Keigo tucks himself away, winces as he has to wipe his hand off- chooses the inside of his pants to be less conspicuous. He listens to the slick sounds of what he assumes must be Shigaraki pulling out and your still wrecked breathing.

"Good pet." Shigaraki's praise feels hollow, more scripted than sincere, but you give some weak whimper all the same.

Keigo should leave. He really, really should leave. Seeing you, talking to you would be a mistake- even with his cock taken care of, Keigo isn't sure how well he'd be able to control himself. You knew him from before this new façade, it's too risky. But he listens, listens as you adjust your clothes, give some formal farewell to your Supreme Leader. Something in Keigo aches with your awkward gait, the scuff of your shoes against the high-polish floors.

When you open the door, he keeps the feather well concealed, sliding along with the heavy oak as you go. He moves to follow you- and hesitates when he realizes another set of footsteps follow yours towards the door. Shigaraki must be headed out too. It's fine, Keigo can wait a moment to let the leader pass (as much as Keigo would love to take the opportunity to cut the head off the League here and now-)

but Shigaraki doesn't pass.

The footsteps get louder and louder in Keigo's head as they near the feather pressed between the door and the floor- and then just stop. Shigaraki's so close Keigo can hear his breathing now and Keigo gets that sickly feeling that makes sweat bead at the base of his skull. Shigaraki opens the door- and Keigo scoots the feather along with it. This time, it's not a vibration- fingers touch the feather, hold the crimson thing up by its quill.

"Enjoy the show, birdy?"

Keigo's stomach drops out through his toes- and is left with the sensation of his feather dissolving away into nothing.

=====

Now with FANART (fuckin WHAT dkfjdg) by @heart-chime!

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If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

=====

Tag List:

@annonymousbread

#Tomura Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #keigo takami #Hawks #hawks x reader #bnha #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #keigo takami x reader

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haillenarte · 4 years

Text

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days!

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea.

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help...

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name.

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof!

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun.

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

266 notes · View notes

mandala-lore · 3 years

Text

Program: Scrapbook - Chap. 2: Play

This is mostly fluff but Chapter 3 is gonna start to get...Weird *sunglasses emoji*

Also, I’ve decided apparently that the Soong family are floor-sitters. The floor is good. We love the floor.

Can also read at ao3.

“Ok, Data. The objective is to put the correct shapes into the correct slots.” Lore pointed at the blocks and wooden board in front of them on the table.

“I understand.” Data assessed the toy with the gravity of a soldier loading a gun. He chose the purple crescent shape, admired it, and practiced gripping and letting go, each finger vying for more control. His pinky and ring finger especially jerked and twitched, until his whole hand gave out and dropped the piece.

“That’s ok. Try again.” Lore was practicing a patience he clearly didn’t feel, nervously wriggling in his own chair, bouncing a leg, and watching Data with hawk eyes.

Data reached again for the shape, gripped it tight, then stuck his whole arm out straight over the board, elbow locked. He moved his hand swiftly side to side, trying to adjust his movements to place the piece exactly over its slot.

Lore gripped the seat of his chair with white knuckles and shook his head, clearly holding back his frustration. He finally put a gentle hand on his brother’s elbow servo. “Relax.” Data obeyed and blinked. “Just practice moving your arm slowly, in little circuits. Like this.” They practiced together for a few moments until Data seemed to get the hang of it.

He tried once more and dropped the piece directly into its slot.

“Excellent!” Dr. Soong came around the other side of the table, handing off the recording device to Juliana. “Now the next.” They all watched attentively as Data perfected his grip and elbow movements. “Very good!” Their father cheered at the end. “I think you’re ready for trickier tasks. But let’s go for a walk first, huh?”

Data stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. Lore just chuckled and slinked his way over to the door, leaning against the entrance.

Juliana handed the recording device back and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Let's have lunch when you come home. Uh. Data? Shirt.”

They all looked to the youngest android, wearing only loose-fitting pants. Data tilted his head, then blinked and looked to the table where he’d left his other garments. He marched over and slipped the tunic over his shoulders, then got stuck halfway.

“You’re an embarrassment,” Lore said fondly from the doorway. He sighed dramatically and helped his brother escape into the tunic’s armholes. He smoothed out the wrinkles along the shoulders and pat him on the back. “Let’s go look at the koi pond.”

Juliana had her arm around her husband’s waist, holding him back. “Let them have a minute.” He looked back at her and placed the recording device on the table.

“So, Juliana Tainer. How’s it feel to be kidnapped across the galaxy just to be adored by three men with the same face?” He buried his nose in his wife’s hair and she pretended to try to wriggle away.

“My mother always warned me you were weirdo.” She kissed him on the neck and mussed his hair, which earned her a muted grumble from her husband. “She said I’d regret it if I went with you.”

“And do you?”

“Not one bit.” She kissed his nose. “It’s strange, Noon. First of all, they are nothing like you, thank god.”

He scoffed indignantly. “Why, thank you!” He crossed his arms but smiled at her.

She laughed, teasing him. “I thought they would be so similar… Not just because they’re artificial, but they’re twins. You modeled them on the same brain waves, with the same basic matrix pattern. But they’re completely different people. Poor Data is so trusting… And Lore, well I haven’t seen him this carefree in weeks. They’re…making each other. Finishing each other?”

Noonian regarded her with a deep, warm gaze. “Yes, they are.”

“It’s beautiful to witness. I’d run away with you all over again, just to see this.”

“My roguish charm had nothing to do with it, I suppose?” He put his arms around her again.

“Roguish charm, indeed. At least twice a day, you forget to tie your shoes.”

“You know something, woman, I think Lore gets his terrible sense of humor from you.”

“Probably. He certainly gets his ego from you.” She cocked her chin up in defiance, then smiled against his lips when he pulled her in for a kiss. “The boys are waiting.” She spoke in between kisses. “I think you’re supposed to catch up.”

“Thankfully, they still have the attention spans of toddlers. And we have a long afternoon of nothing to do.” They backed up against the table, arms around each other, as Dr. Soong sightlessly reached for the recording device and switched it off.

“Next file.” The holodeck shifted and immediately placed them in a different environment:

In the dim light of a cozy room, Lore and Data sat on the floor with an ancient chess table made of polished wood. Lore sat cross legged, both elbows crooked out, his chin resting in his palm. He followed Data’s every movement with a penetrating stare, making little, disapproving breaths and noises each time Data twitched his head or hand, until Data carefully reconsidered and made a different move.

Data sat with one knee against his chest, the other folded under him. He used one hand for balance, while the other shifted over and around the board, before slowly settling on a single piece to move.

“Yeesh.” Lore whispered, as Data, his hand trembling, placed a smooth, stone rook without removing his fingers. Upon hearing his brother’s comment, Data twitched his head back and forth, scanning the board. He carefully retreated his rook and moved a pawn instead. Data glanced at Lore for guidance; Lore nodded almost imperceptibly and winked at his brother. Data’s fingers clasped the round knob of the pawn’s head clumsily, but he managed to place the piece without knocking over any others. “Excellent, brother. Your finger dexterity is improving.”

“Well done, Data.” Juliana agreed. She sat a few feet away in a soft chair, with a small canvas and some watercolors on the table in front of her. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

As they moved pieces, cutting off each other’s attacks, sacrificing pawns and knights, Data’s white pieces began to invade more and more of Lore’s side of the board. While Data’s fine motor skills improved slowly, his logical processing seemed to soar beyond his brother’s. Lore’s wordless sounds of disapproval seemed to carry less weight on Data’s decision-making as the game dragged on with tense quiet. Occasionally Juliana would hum a tune or disturb the water in a small cup with the tip of her brush, creating a gentle slosh. The game was nearly over before anyone spoke again.

“Lore,” Data tilted his head and blinked rapidly, processing information. “I believe you misplaced two of your pieces. The knight cannot move that number of spaces and the pawn was incorrectly-“

“Lore, stop cheating.” Juliana interrupted without looking up from her handiwork.

Lore smirked and fixed the board. “Oops.”

It was only three more moves before Data captured the opposing king. “Check mate.” He gently but stiffly moved his flat palm to knock over the black piece.

Lore grumbled a moment, then beamed. “Well, fair’s fair. Good game, Data. You were bound to win at least once. Another?” Data nodded in reply and Lore began to reset the board.

“Hello, loved ones!” Dr. Soong crashed into the room, drenched from rain, and carrying a sack of something. “What a lovely domestic scene. Come here, kids, I brought something for you.”

Data needed the use of all four limbs to rise, but once on his feet stood tall and had no trouble walking. Lore hesitated, glancing at Juliana, who ignored him. He rocked up onto his feet and sauntered over to sit on the arm of her chair. She and Lore shared a glance, then stared coldly at Dr. Soong.

Data was tilting his head, eagerly trying to see inside the bag. His father motioned for patience with one hand, then placed the sack on the ground at their feet and gently turned it over. Out slipped four tiny kittens, who immediately started stumbling around their feet and mewling for attention.

“Found ‘em just like this, on the side of the road.”

“Aw, Noon.” Juliana knelt next to Data on the floor. She showed him how to gently lift a kitten and support its weight. They each cradled a mewling, little fur ball. Juliana turned her glistening eyes to her husband, who drunkenly plopped onto the floor with them, then back to their son. “Be gentle, Data. They can’t be more than a few days old. What are we going to do with them?” She glanced at her husband, who shrugged.

The kittens swarmed Data’s lap; he cradled his first one carefully, while remaining perfectly still, with the exception of periodic head-tilts, as the others explored his folded legs and clawed their way up his torso. For a few minutes they sat in blissful curiosity, the Soongs laughing at the contented purrs and demanding mews of each individual cat.

“Oh, great. They won’t shut up.” Lore remarked cynically from his perch above them on the armrest.

Juliana tsked at his comment but turned her attention back to a kitten about to topple from Data’s shoulder. Noonian had been playing with a particularly aggressive and playful black and white cat; he stopped to glare at Lore. “Here,” he held out the tiny thing stretching its toes to the older android. “This one’s yours.”

Lore opened his mouth to argue but Juliana cut him off. “That’s a wonderful idea!” She kissed Noon on his cheek. “Four kittens, four of us. We’ll each be responsible for one of them. They’ll need a lot of attention without their mother.”

“I’ll replicate something for them to eat.” Lore sounded exasperated but he disappeared down the hallway and returned a few minutes later with droppers of milk. He and Data discussed the nutrient qualities and how best to feed the kittens, while Noonian and Juliana built a makeshift bed out of cushions and blankets.

When the kittens collapsed, warm and well-fed, into a deep sleep, Noonian stretched, then put his arms around Juliana’s waist. “Getting late,” he muttered. Then, much quieter, “I’m sorry.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it, nodding and mouthing, “Me too.” They said goodnight to the androids, who were still watching the kittens sleep.

Lore finally tired of cat-watching. Data was cataloguing and saving every detail of the experience, including the sleeping heartrate of each cat.

“Well,” Lore returned to their chessboard, “let’s play another game.”

He set the board and Data took his seat across from him, but hesitated. “According to tradition, brother, we are meant to swap colors.” Data reached for the black pieces, but Lore caught his wrist.

“No. I’m always black. You be white again. It suits you.”

Data nodded and moved his first pawn.

End of simulation.

The memory dissolved and the holodeck returned to its gridded blank slate.

“Good to know your thing with cats goes back to childhood,” Neva hoped it was alright to joke around a little.

“What were they arguing about?” Data seemed far away and distracted.

“I don’t know, love. Maybe Dr. Soong felt that was a bit too personal to share.”

“Perhaps.” He said it in a way that granted the possibility but doubted its likelihood. “But then why include those moments at all? These memories have clearly been severely edited. He chose these moments in particular to share with me. Why?”

“I guess if we keep viewing, we might find out.” Something worried Neva, but she couldn’t quite describe it. “How does it feel, seeing Lore like this? And the real Juliana? All of you together, like a real family...”

Once again, Data looked tired, older. He sighed – another new habit from the emotion chip. “I do not know how to describe it. I am angry, yet I miss Lore. If I witnessed this feeling in another, I would consider it extraordinary. But…”

“But when it’s happening to you, it feels a lot different.”

“Indeed.”

“Like a labyrinth…” Neva trailed off, not wanting to confuse the situation any more than it was already deeply confused.

But Data tilted his head, curious. “An irregular network of passages designed to be difficult to navigate. A maze. How so?”

“It was something I read the other day for the history course I’m taking." Neva explained, "From above, a labyrinth is a beautiful design, and you can find the true path fairly easily. But once you’re in it, you can get lost forever. It can feel like there’s no way out. Ancient Earth cultures sometimes used labyrinths as rituals in that way.”

“I see. Then, yes, very much like a labyrinth.” Data returned the memory device to his pocket. “I think it would be best if I continued tomorrow. I would like to think of something else.”

Neva nodded and wound her arms around one of his as they exited the holodeck. “I have an assignment to finish, but after that I would be happy to distract you.” She loved the slightly scandalized face he got whenever she propositioned him, but it was even more fun that he constantly found ways to scandalize her back.

“That would be very helpful, but I do not think you will be able to focus on your assignment tonight.”

“Oh.”

Back in his quarters, Spot sat in the center of the room attentively, her signal that she wanted a meal. While Data went to the replicator, Neva scratched the cat's ears. Until recently, she had always been just the smallest fraction jealous of Spot, who was slightly antagonistic in return. “Y'know, you’re not special anymore,” Neva announced proudly. Spot seemed unfazed and gobbled at her bowl.

“My memories of Spot are still more statistically significant to me than the kittens we saw.” Data said with a worried expression.

“I know, love. I was only joking,” Neva reassured him.

#data soong #data (star trek)#lore soong #st:tng #data fic #noonian soong #fanfic #my writing #when i say weird i mean greek tragedy weird #anyway please enjoy this fluff #mine

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just-mirko · 4 years

Photo

BINARY

BNHA HACKER AU - CHAPTER 4

MASTERLIST

Mirko x F!Reader

Warnings: HAWKS BEING A SUS BITCH 2.0 #peghawks2020

WC: 2k

(A/N: This is unedited! Please message me if you spot any annoying mistakes! I will probably have the edited version up in a day or two!)

“Then with that I leave you, my students, sleep well!”

He left for the doors and closed them behind him, effectively leaving 15 teenage criminals in a room together.

Hah.

After principal Nezu left, the crowd dispersed. Many chose to scout out their dorms instead of interacting. Each person was a loaded gun. Aimed at their enemies or themselves did not matter, we were all afraid for when the first bullet would strike.

That being said, most seemed overall relaxed. Students would try to start conversation and socialize, which was apparent by the mumble of voice within the school’s halls that returned from before Nezu gave his brief speech.

I was turning towards the dorm hallway with my bags in hand. The gentle tap of my shoes along the hardwood floors could be heard in crisp, purposeful taps. Right as I walked through the threshold of the door connecting the dorm corridor and the main hall, I heard footsteps growing louder behind me.

I kept walking forward and kept a close eye at the plaques on each room’s door that signified who was housed where.

The footsteps continued getting closer until in my peripheral vision I could see a lock of white hair swaying.

“You again?” I asked, feigning annoyance. Of course, her presence wasn’t exactly unwanted but it was unneeded.

“Mmmhmm” Mirko hummed while gazing down at me.

The image of her and Hawks pushed itself into the forefront of my mind, leaving residues of anger wherever it bounced in my brain.

“So… you and Hawks?” I looking at the hallway door when I said it. I slowed my walking down to almost a complete stop before turning towards her.

“Are you guys dati-“ I made the mistake of looking into her piercing red eyes and caught a glare, making me stop my sentence.

I held my breath for a second, thinking I angered her in some way, but to my surprise she let out a laugh.

“You got so scared! Look at you! You’re just a bottom little bunny” She relaxed and leaned her arm down to rest on my shoulder. The height difference was so obvious when she was standing this close.

“C’mon (Y/N), lighten up, combat training is going to be a breeze! I bet the view from the floor will be nice.”

Did she just- never mind.

“Oh as if.” I rolled my eyes and started walking again towards my door that came into view. She followed me and watched as struggled with the door.

The doorknob was plain and silver, with a small black pad above it. I was more than confused.

“Were we supposed to get a key or something?”

I continued jamming the doorknob and pressing at the black pad in frustration. It was getting late, and being locked out of my room wasn’t on my list of things I can emotionally handle.

One of Mirko’s hands came to rest at about my elbow from behind me. Delicately moving her hands up towards me wrist, she paused, before gently holding the back my hand, her nails ghosting against my palm.

My heart was racing, none of her arm’s subtle movements went unnoticed. I feared that with how close she was, with her right behind me, and this, whatever this is, she could hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest.

She guided my hand towards the black pad and brought my left pointer finger down on the sensor.

With a small green light and a click, the door swung open. She kept her grasp on my hand for what felt like a moment too long yet still too short before stepping back and turning towards the door across from me room.

“The doors are locked via fingerprint,” She stated matter-of-factly with a smirk.

“Tell me if you have any more troubles (y/n), I’m right next door.” She seemed way too pleased with herself when she walked back into her room, not sparing a glance over towards me, standing in the door frame of my room when her’s closed.

That night I laid awake staring at the ceiling, just as I had done last night. Though the only difference was last night I was contemplating to even go here, now I was contemplating how I would even survive here.

The dorms were nice and decently sized for the whole ‘underground secret society’ thing. A bathroom with all the basics including a deep bathtub, a queen bed, a mini fridge, and coffee machine. What set t apart from average was two things. Color changing lights that were set under the bed and desk, giving everything a vibrant glow (A/N no reason for the lights they just look cool :))

The last special thing in the room was a giant black desk, obviously set up for a giant desktop and even more hardware, but the surface with unscratched, unused, and empty. It sat in the corner of the room alone, unlike the other areas that had lamps, colored lights, or fake plants; the desk had nothing.

I would still have to grow accustomed to the new and pristine room. It smelled clean. Like fresh disinfectant and fake lavender that is just slightly off from the real thing. I could not say I missed the cans of soda on the floor and random sticky notes everywhere.

The old apartment was crammed with miscellaneous objects. All the things I was too attached to throw out, but not too attached to leave all together, I guess.

I rolled over, suddenly very aware of my awakens. I checked my clock. A large sigh eased from my lungs. It was only 11pm. That meant I was not losing too much sleep on my first day. I could only imagine how screwed I would be if those led screen lights were showing 3am or any other blatantly early time.

I guess since I was awake, it would not hurt to get a snack or something. From my recollection, I remember seeing a café like area in the common room, though I was too preoccupied to look at it for too long. They might have a granola bar or some snack I could eat. I was really craving chocolate milk right now.

I was in the slightly delirious sleepy stage of consciousness. The point where I had no filter to what I said, and no self-preservation. In said state, I threw on some slippers, grabbed my phone and grudgingly walked out to the hallway.

“choccy milk, choccy milk!” I whispered to myself in a singsong voice. The walk to the end of the hallway seemed to only last a split second before I was there, at the door to the common room.

“choccy milk, choccy milk!” I reached towards the doorknob, shivering once the chilled metal touched my fingers. Right as I was about to pull the door with my weak and tired muscles, I heard shuffling from the other side of the door.

I opened it slowly, and peering in through the crack in the door. Though dark, and his back was towards me, I could recognize the distinct frame of Hawks. The dirty bastard. Why he be actin lik- my thoughts were interrupted by two sharp clicks. On the floor he sat a suitcase and opened it up. It was the same one that had the red unidentified fluff in it. More fuzz was on it than before, apparent as it stood out among the black fabric casing.

He moved in front of the suit case and blocked my view, but I could watch as he crouched down an opened it up. Suddenly, a flurry of red came spiraling out and circling around hawks. He stood up and the shapes were revealed to be feathers, each one different than the next. The continued to storm around like he was standing in the eye of a hurricane surrounded. Feather by feather they collected by his shoulders, forming broad wings that’s wingspan was around 10 ft.

He ruffled the wings around, spreading them out and even doing a test flap, which sent a gust of air in all directions. While he was… adjusting them? Stretching them?

This had to have been his quirk. And it was an amazing one at that. This was my rival? How was I supposed to beat that?

“Woah” I silently whispered. His wings twitched at the sound, and it appeared all the feathers stood up straight. He quickly turned around, his wings taking on a defensive position and each feather spiking outward like tiny knives. I quickly hid behind the door, hoping he didn’t see me, though he definitely heard me.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I held my breath, knowing now that whatever his quirk was, it enhanced his hearing.

I slightly turned my head to my ear was pressed up against the wall and I could hear anything he did. I cringed at the slight scratch of one of my earrings against wooden door and paused again.

Through the polished wood and all the space between us, I made out his footsteps beginning again as he walked away from the door. The breath I held in my lungs released shakily. My eyes darted across the hallway, which suddenly seemed so much longer. The expanse of parallel lines from the crown molding and the wallpaper and everything made me feel like caving in.

I had barely dodged that encounter, and I know it would not have been good if he found me snooping. I was not my intention, but it did give me a slight advantage. I knew his quirk.

I knew his quirk.

Unlike someone’s fake name or hacker alias, quirks were something you can change. They stuck with you the rest of your life, one of very few constants we could have. And because quirks, especially unique ones like Hawks’, were specific to each person they not only would let me find his real identity quickly, but also gain information on his past, something most people in this life tried to forget.

I had no intention of using this information maliciously, it was more or less self-defense. If he was out for me, its only fair that I get to build a shield. I was just evening the playing fields.

My brain was vacant of all prior need for choccy milk, now, all I wanted was answers, though for now those would have to wait. My smartphone said it was almost midnight, and I already started things at this academy on the wrong foot, I don’t want that to repeat with my teachers.

I guess it was foolish of me to believe I was always one step ahead of everyone. I was untouchable, invisible, I had power. I forgot that people don’t get into this school on daddy’s money or luck, they’re here for a reason.

But at that time I didn’t care, of course I didn’t, I just narrowly avoided my current rival, and walked away unnoticed. Untouchable.

I went to sleep quickly. I woke up early. I slept well. The next day started good. I made coffee and pondered over the empty desk once more. I was ignorant.

#bnha #mirkobnha #bnhafanfic #bnha mirko #bnha x reader #bnha au #hacker au #mirko x reader #rumi usagiyama #rumi usagiyama x reader #xfreader #xf!reader #just-mirko #justmirko #bina #BINARY #peghawks2020

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

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Michael in the Mainstream: Crash Bandicoot

Reviewing video games is not my forte. Like, sure, I can review the Metal Gear franchise because it’s near and dear to my heart and it’s incredibly story driven to a cinematic degree, but I’m not super good at touching on game design or any of that. I stick with movies. But then there are a lot of games I love and want to talk about, such as this game, Crash Bandicoot, and it’s like, how do I talk about this? This is a platformer that is very light on plot and is more about precision platforming than anything, and I’m just not really good at talking about gameplay.

But I’ve come up with a solution! One that I plan to use going forward for a few other games, too! I’ll start with a few paragraphs with my basic overview of the game, and then I will do a ranking of my favorite levels, and then how I’d rank the bosses. I’m much better at talking why I enjoy the challenge of specific elements of games like these then I am talking about the game as a whole, so let’s see how this turns out.

Crash Bandicoot was the first video game I ever played, and so is extremely near and dear to my heart. It’s a rather simple game, a “save the girl” platforming adventure in the vein of something like Mario, where an intrepid hero travels through platforming challenges to save the love of his life from an evil mastermind, though as the main character is a furry animal with a bit of 90s ‘tude, and his archenemy is a mad scientist who utilizes cyborgs to stop you, there’s a dash of Sonic in here too. Being a simple platforming game like this, you’d think there wouldn’t be all that much to the story… but surprisingly, that’s not totally the case (although the story is still relatively simple to later entries).

Crash was meant to be the ultimate soldier in Dr. Neo Cortex’s army of evil marsupials and other assorted critters, an army he presumably was going to use for world domination. After rigorous training, Crash was set to be brainwashed and turned into a mindless slave, but something got screwed up and Crash remained a good, heroic guy. He ended up chased out a window and washed up on the beach of a nearby island, and set out to save his buxom, big booty bandicoot babe Tawna from the creepy clutches of the cantankerous Cortex, causing chaos and crushing crates as he went along. The manual included with the original version of the game actually outlined sort of a little story for the first island, showing how the levels involved Crash infiltrating a native village, defeating its leader, and then riding a hog to escape on his way to the next island. It’s kind of fun and imaginative, and the next island keeps it up, with Crash having to brave ancient ruins to make it to the volcano on the other side of the island, before finally going through Cortex’s toxic power plant, causing a reactor meltdown, and climbing Cortex’s castle to confront him as his island burns to the ground. It’s a fun, simple story that’s not too challenging on the mind while still being engaging.

Perhaps the best thing about the game is the music, which was done by Josh Mancell with the assistance of Mark Mothersbaugh’s Mutato Muzika production company. Let’s not beat around the bush here: Every single track in this game slaps. Basically every track in the original trilogy slaps, but I feel pound for pound this game just hits all the right notes with its music. It perfectly sets the tone for each level, with eerie levels like Slippery Climb getting foreboding music and unsettling yet somewhat whimsical levels like Road to Nowhere getting music that perfectly suits it. This is the biggest downgrade of the remake; they redid the score, with no option to go back to the old tracks, and while some of the updated tunes are great, they don’t really hold a candle to the original (especially the creepier levels, which got dumbed down a fair bit to the point of narm).

The one thing this game is being known for these days is its pretty brutal difficulty, at least with the original release. A lot of the staple elements of the series like checkpoints saving the boxes you had previously broken and an actual save room were not present, so every level (including the brutal ones where the margin of error was incredibly slim) needed to be completed perfectly in one go. The challenging road to 100% completion was absolutely brutal, but thankfully the remake polished things and brought it more in line with its sequels to the point you only need a flawless run on colored gem levels. It can still be pretty tough since the colored gems are located in the hardest levels of the game, but it’s a lot easier than it once was.

The original game is a great, fun game, but only play the original release if you really want to test your skills; the remake is the way to go. The game holds up amazingly well even today, so no matter which version you end up playing you’re in for a fun platforming challenge.

Anyway, let’s get on to the levels!

TOP 10 LEVELS

10. Generator Room

There’s something to be said about the various one-shot themed levels of the third island. Toxic Waste is an interesting one we’ll talk about later, The Lab is a fun penultimate level, and Cortex Power is a frustrating slog of confusing backtracking. The Generator Room, though? This is unnerving atmosphere and dark ambience at its peak, with the eerie, minimalist music and the looming Cortex faces lending a chilling sense that you’re being watched as you make your way through this dark platforming challenge. It’s not the most exciting level, but among the one-shot themes it stands out for being a heaping helping of nightmare fuel… Though moreso in the original game. The remake sadly toned things down a bit too much, though it’s hard to blame them, really.

9. Native Fortress

The level that caps off the first island is a more challenging remake of The Great Gate, and closes out the story of the first island by showing how Crash escapes the territory of Papu Papu’s tribe. It’s a pretty fun and reasonable challenge for the point in the game, but my favorite aspect of the level has always been that, when you get the red gem, you get to fly up in the clouds and experience the painted background of the other two islands with less clutter. It’s just a simple background image, sure, but I have always found it very pretty and breathtaking.

8. Road to Nowhere

Everyone’s favorite! This is one of the more challenging levels if you don’t know what you’re doing because of the tricky and precise jumps you need, but it just has so much atmosphere and pleasant music it’s hard to get mad even if I screw up and plummet to my doom a few dozen times. Bouncing off of hibernating turtles to make long jumps and inexplicable evil hogs help make this memorable. Frankly, if you want to direct your ire to a stage, direct it to The High Road, the third island’s more challenging take on this level’s theme and which is a joyless, frustrating experience.

7. Castle Machinery

This level is honestly a bit of a breather for being so late in the game; sure, it has a lot of tricky jumps and an annoying crate bridge you need to really think about to conquer, but overall it’s just an improved take on Heavy Machinery without an obtuse branching path to figure out. Still, this level really makes the list because, if you have the right colored gem, you can just immediately skip the entire level and gain thirty free lives in the process in one of the single funniest moments in the game.

6. Toxic Waste

This level is simple, straightforward, and to the point. It’s one long-ass hallway where Crash is on a narrow walkway and has to avoid incoming barrels being tossed at him by the Mafia. It has no branching paths, no crazy elements, just Crash, some barrels, some boxes, and some bad guys. It’s almost too basic, but what saves it is the atmosphere of it all and the sheer awesomeness of the music, no matter which version you’re playing. It’s a level that has stuck in my mind since I was a kid. In a way, it also set the basis for colored gem unlocks in the games to follow, as avoiding the barrels is more of a puzzle than anything, much like the tricky puzzles you had to solve to unlock the colored gems in Cortex Strikes Back and It’s About Time. It’s a neat little first step even if it’s not quite there yet.

5. Boulder Dash

I almost didn’t include one of these levels, but God, these levels were trendsetters! The whole “Crash gets chased by dangerous thing” trend began in this game, and this second take on the boulder chase from the second island is a lot more fun and challenging than the earlier version of the level. And if you get the colored gem, you’re taken to a pretty underground alternate exit with tons of crates, which is pretty dope.

4. Fumbling in the Dark

The only one of the secret levels that requires a Cortex key to make the list, Fumbling in the Dark is a remix of Lights Out, the level it branches off of. That level is a bit of a cakewalk if you have the right gem, with an alternate exit being available to you before the level’s challenge ramps up. Not so with this level! You’ve gotta do some tricky timed jumps as quick as possible so you can get to the next Aku Aku mask before the light runs out. It’s a pretty fun and fair challenge, and it pushes my platforming skills to the limit. I also just really enjoy the creepy, Gothic aesthetic of the levels inside Cortex’s castle.

3. Hog Wild

This is, hands down, the funniest level in the game. From Crash’s really suggestive eyebrow waggle which leads to him tackling a pig to the extremely goofy music, this level is just an absolute blast. It does have an equally fun yet more challenging remix as an optional secret level, Whole Hog, but I have to give props to the original level for being the most hilarious thing I ever saw when I was little.

2. Slippery Climb

Where Stormy Ascent is a brutal, unrelenting challenge, Slippery Climb is more of a tough, but fair challenge. It’s definitely up there with Sunset Vista and The High Road in terms of difficulty, and the fact you’ve gotta do a flawless run of it if you want the red gem is daunting, but this is the most thoroughly rewarding mandatory level to conquer. You’re gonna feel really cool when you take this one down, guaranteed. Maybe not as much as when you take down Stormy Ascent, but still, this may be the toughest level in the game.

1. THE GREAT HALL

youtube

WOO YEAH BABY! LOOK AT THIS CHALLENGE!

Ok, ok, here’s the real number one:

1. N. Sanity Beach

This is the first level in the game and, thus, one of the easiest. And yet I placed it above all the levels I find to be more fun and challenging. Why? Well, for one, the pure nostalgia of it all. This was my first level in a video game, and I have fond memories of traversing the beach and jungle. For the other, this is one of the most perfect tutorial levels I have ever seen. Basically everything the game has to offer is laid out to you and slowly dished out to you: you start with a couple crates and a free life, move on to experience some enemies and pits, you can get total invincibility if you’re smart, you’re introduced to branching paths and backtracking… Everything is dished out to you at a solid pace so that any new player will be able to figure out what they’re doing with relative ease. Plus, the music slaps, and interestingly enough halfway through the level changes to a different song (the only level to do this). It really does encapsulate the game as a whole in one tiny package, and for that, I think it’s my favorite level of all.

Boss Ranking

The best way to describe the bosses in the original Crash is that they are incredibly basic. Most of them have simple patterns, easy tells, and don’t take much effort to take down. There’s not really anything here that will put your skills to the test, but none of them are really bad per se; in fact, considering how hard the levels can get, it’s sort of a breath of fresh air when you get to a boss that can be taken down without thinking hard.

6. Papu Papu

Coming in last place is our first boss, the big chief of the first island himself. He’s a pretty simple and straightforward boss battle: just jump on his head a few times and he’ll be out cold. It’s pretty nice to ease in new players, but it’s seriously not much of a challenge (though none of these bosses are particularly hard, mind you).

5. Koala Kong

So far, this has been Koala Kong’s sole major outing, as he was pretty quickly replaced with the more engaging Tiny Tiger in terms of dumb muscle.Tiny at least has some semblance of combat prowess and strategy, while this guy is just tossing boulders at you to spin back while he’s flexing and posing like he wants a part in the next volume of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. He’s certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, he’s not bad or anything, just a bit of a generic battle compared to the last three or the one before him.

4. Ripper Roo

Ripper Roo is a bit of a frustrating puzzle boss, requiring just the right timing to get in any damage on the guy. Still, the fun and bouncy music coupled with the amazing stock laugh does help make him a bit more memorable than the previous two bosses. I will say he’s probably worse in terms of an actual boss battle, because he ends up being more an exercise in precision than the typical dodging and waiting for the right moment to strike, but he’s also a funny kangaroo in a straitjacket, and I think that counts for something.

3. N. Brio

The longest boss in the game, Brio comes with a massive health bar that you’ll shave off pretty quickly for his first phase if you’re careful, and whose second phase features him hulking out into an incredible monstrosity. He’s simple and straightforward, much like all the bosses to be honest, but I think the bosses on the final island all have solid presentation to make up for that. Brio just comes out at the lower end, which is honestly a running theme for him in Crash games, as his battles are rarely the best out there and few can match his debut.

2. Pinstripe

Pinstripe may not be the most challenging boss in the world, but damn is he cool. A tommy gun-toting potoroo gangster who goes full-on Scarface and starts blasting up his office when you walk in while cackling like a madman? Awesome. Defeating him is also heavily implied to be the reason Cortex’s castle eventually starts burning down, as he accidentally shoots the generator upon defeat, which is a neat little touch. If nothing else, Pinstripe is just fun, and he has killer theme music to boot.

1. Cortex

Cortex begins his reign as the big bad of the franchise with a final boss battle that, while lacking in serious challenge, has such good music and presentation that it’s hard to really care. The fight is simple and straightforward: you dodge his blasts, and hit back the ones of a certain color so they blast his health off. All of this is done from atop his dirigible, as his island burns down in the background. The bosses just don’t get any cooler than this.

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #video game review #Crash Bandicoot #Naughty Dog #Platformer #nostalgia

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riseandshinelittleblossom · 4 years

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The Hedge Maze

I have been debating over whether or not to post this, or hell even finish it, for the last couple of weeks, so before I talk myself out of it again...here it is. I apologize.

Warning: LEMONS...its just lemons.

Disclaimer: I do not own Maxwell Beaumont (PB does), he owns me.

Tagging some thirsties: @fullbeaumonty @speedyoperarascalparty @leelee10898 @emichelle @ao719

words: 1731

Finley surveyed the bar from across the crowded ballroom. One or two nobles that she probably should, but did not recognize. The bartender polished glasses in a dreadful attempt to appear busy. With an audible sigh she made her way over.

"And for you, madam?" The bartender's heavy voice as he peered at her with intense green eyes.

"Surprise me."

Finley spun on her heels and leaned her elbows on the bar, observing the room.

In the far corner she could see a dark haired man in a blue sports coat. He seemed as out of place as he was uncomfortable, like one of those dogs that people put Halloween costumes on and then actually took them trick or treating.

I feel you, buddy.

Immediately to her right, but closer to the center of the room stood King Liam, his wife Riley on his arm as they chatted away with an older blonde woman. She held a champagne glass in each hand and she gestured widely as she spoke. Finley could tell that the king and queen were less than enthused about the conversation, however she noted that they still gave the impression of being enthralled by the woman's tale.

The Lady Hana Lee was to their left, a stiff man in a tweed jacket beside her. Finley recognized Hana since her uncle and Hana's father were business associates. She made a mental note to make sure she said hello, lest her Uncle Brandon kill her slowly.

"Here you are, miss."

Finley turned to see the barkeep sliding a mojito across the bar towards her.

"Thank you kindly." Finley tipped her head to the man as she collected the drink, swirling it once before taking a sip.

She hated these sorts of events, but as her uncle had never taken a wife, she was often forced to accompany him.

Finley had been raised to fit into courtly life, but as her father was only the brother of an Earl it was never expected that she would live a courtly life, and that was fine by her.

From the corner of her eye she saw a man- about her age- wearing a simple black suit coat with a white shirt. She noticed right away that said shirt was unbuttoned far too low to be acceptable, but she ignored him otherwise and continued her ametur surveillance.

Still only viewing the man from her peripheral vision she watched as he smoothed his jacket and ran his hands over his chocolate hair before snapping his wrists and sliding up next to her.

"Good evening, ma'am." he said.

Without turning her gaze toward him she simply replied, "No."

He fumbled over himself searching for what to say next.

"You didn't even look at me. You could at least look a man in his eye when you reject him."

A smirk formed across Finley's face as she cocked her head to the side ever so slightly.

She had to admit she was a little intrigued by his persistence and even with only a sideways glance he was quite handsome. Maybe he could be just a bit of fun for the evening, if he played his cards right.

Shuffling her stance so that she faced him, she peered into his azure eyes.

"No thank you, m'lord."

She offered him a curtsey.

"That was better, but I feel like that response just lacked the conviction necessary to convince me that you're not interested."

Finley quirked an eyebrow at him, taking a long pull from her mojito.

"I'll take that look as a second chance," he grinned. "I'm Maxwell Beaumont."

"I'm still unimpressed."

The brunette man scoffed. "I am a Guardian of the Realm. Won't that at least get me a dance?"

Finley giggled, much to her surprise.

"Fine. But only because you made me laugh."

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, Maxwell immediately pulling her a little closer than the dance actually called for.

"So, I've told you my name," he smiled down at her before dropping his lips to the shell of her ear. "What's yours?"

An involuntary shudder shot through Finley's body as his words filled her ear. Her body felt like putty.

How did he do that?

"I- uh- I'm...my name is..it's Finley. Finley Sawyer." she stammered.

"What a pleasure, Finley Sawyer."

Several mojitos and a few dances later, Finley found herself gleefully running through the palace's infamous hedge maze, with Maxwell in hot pursuit. Twisting and turning through the foliage, her strawberry blonde hair flying behind her she had never felt freer, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled so much.

They came to a clearing lined with old timey lanterns, a large round fountain laced with fairy lights in the center.

"I...I can't...I can't...Maxwell I can't breathe!" She panted, falling immediately into a shrill burst of laughter as he accosted her, fingers wildly tickling her sides as she squirmed.

They finally fell together on the edge of the fountain, still giggling and doubling over as they tried to catch their breath.

"I haven't….whoo..I haven't laughed like that in….maybe ever." Finley told him, absentmindedly resting her hand on his thigh.

Maxwell took a gulp of air and held it, calming his fit before covering her hand in his.

"Thank you." She said, their eyes finally meeting.

"Finley, I," he began, but he paused to wet his lips. "I'm going to kiss you."

"I would be disappointed if you didn't."

His long slender fingers brushed her cheek as he tenderly cupped her face. Finley peeked up at him with darkened eyes, leaning closer and closer until at last his soft lips found hers. A bolt of electricity shot directly to her core as Maxwell deepened the kiss, slowly at first but rapidly becoming frantic. Finley splayed her hands against the surprisingly firm muscles of his chest, smoothing her palms under his jacket and over his shoulders.

Maxwell shrugged the garment off, quickly returning his hands to either side of her face as Finley's fingers deftly worked at his dress shirt buttons.

"Fin, I want you to know that...I mean I obviously hoped, but...we don't have to do this." Maxwell told her, breaking the kiss.

A coy grin spread itself across the redhead's lips. "I already know you're a gentleman, no need to go and prove it."

She slowly stood up, still facing him and she reached behind her to unzip her simple yet elegant black dress.

Without any straps, it quickly pooled at her feet, her round perky breasts now fully exposed.

Maxwell's eyes roamed over the curves of her, his tongue involuntarily running along his bottom lip as he drank in the sight.

Silently she stepped out of the fabric, throwing one leg over his lap and settling herself upon him. She chastely pressed her lips to his, slowly making her way up his jaw line until she stopped long enough to nibble at his earlobe.

"Fuck,"

It fell from his lips in a whisper, his hips bucking slightly as he shuddered.

"You're a bit overdressed, Mr. Beaumont." She murmured before slowly tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue.

Maxwell made short work of his dress shirt before fumbling with his belt. Finley dropped her hands between them to assist with the zipper before reaching past the fabric and gripping his hard length. She gently tugged it free of it's confines with a mischievous grin.

"Big boy. I'll admit I wasn't expecting that."

Maxwell's cheeks burned with a twinge of embarrassment but he recovered quickly, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her as he wiggled his hips into position.

Finley took her time easing herself down onto him. She gently gyrated her hips in small circles down his length, hands digging into the tanned skin of his shoulders to keep balanced.

"Goddamnit, Finley. You're so fucking tight." He moaned, his head falling back.

She ran her tongue up his windpipe, nipping and suckling it.

When she had finally sheathed him fully inside of her, he gripped the gloves of her ass in two fistfuls and slowly stood up with her. Finley wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, digging her heels into him.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"I suppose I trust you enough."

Maxwell briefly reached behind him and touched her ankles.

"Don't let go." He instructed before grabbing her ass once more with white knuckles.

He slammed his hips into hers, his knees bending slightly as he fucked up into her.

"Max... Maxwell, oooooh." She groaned.

He quickened his pace, rocking gently on the balls of his feet, Finley bouncing wildly into him as she clung to his neck for dear life.

She could feel her thighs tighten around his trunk as the familiar warmth gathered in her core. She palmed his cheek, crashing her lips against his and swallowing whole the moans that escaped him. Her other hand slid between their bodies, expertly finding her clit to help herself along.

Maxwell's legs began to sputter, the sight of her strumming herself more than he could take and he slowed momentarily as he found his release.

Not to be deterred, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, still slamming her hips into his until a moment later Finley joined him, the rush of her arousal coating his cock and abdomen.

Carefully he stepped back until his calves felt the smooth stone of the fountain and he sat back down.

She kissed his forehead, breathing still heavy as she stood from his lap to collect her dress.

Maxwell licked his lips, enjoying the sight of her dressing in the lantern light.

"And to think, a couple of hours ago you wouldn't even let me ask you for a dance."

He smirked at her, tucking himself away and zipping his pants.

"Everybody makes mistakes." She answered matter-of-factly. "Will you zip me?"

Maxwell stood up and grasped her zipper, working it easily up her back. He traced the backs of his fingers up her spine before softly kissing her shoulder.

"So what do you think, Finley? Can I call you sometime?"

She flung her hair over her shoulder, smacking Maxwell in the face with it as she spun to face him.

"No."

Finley gathered up her skirt and made her way into the maze.

#the hedge maze #trr fanfic #maxwell beaumont #maxwell fanfiction #maxwell x oc #ns*w #lemons #its nothing but lemons #im so sorry

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artistic-writer · 4 years

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The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 5

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: Here is ch 5!! Graham is still a dick, Emma is very naughty and Killian buys a sex toy! This chapter is so much fun ;) Enjoy! Thanks to @kmomof4 who beta’d this one, because she is awesome <3 I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist: I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you! I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake

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The lobby of the hotel was as Killian would have expected when he had received a call from Graham’s PA informing him that they were to meet again. Graham had insisted, as part of their agreement, that Killian would be paid in cash upon a meeting after each visit with Emma. Of course, that meant that there was no paper trail of his or Emma’s indiscretions, which suited Killian just fine. It was the only part of the damned contract he actually agreed with.

Just like everything else Graham Humbert had a hand in, this meeting place was as flamboyant and pompous as Killian had foreseen, with silken drapes with golden embroidery hanging on every window. Massive diamond chandeliers hung along the hall, and the sound of water flowing through an indoor fountain was accompanied by the soothing lilt of music that Killian was sure was emanating from some kind of hidden speaker system. The huge, marble columns stood floor to ceiling, lining the edges of both sides of the room, and were so highly polished that Killian could see his reflection clearly in them as he walked past. The floor, equally as polished to within one inch of its life, did little to absorb the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bar area, and Killian kept a careful eye out for anyone who might be more than unwelcomed at the meeting.

He had noticed that Graham never travelled alone, always meeting him with two big, burly henchmen at his side. They never sat with them, but were never far enough away that Graham would be in any sort of trouble if he found himself in a sticky situation. In a world where strength was everything, Graham’s actions made Killian chuckle. Humbert so desperately wanted to be an Alpha that he often forgot that, fundamentally, an Alpha would never need protection, or a bodyguard, let alone two of them, and it just spoke to how insecure Graham really was.

Killian’s lips ticked up into a small, tight smile that he hid under a swipe of his tongue, lest one of them be nearby. It wasn’t long before Killian spotted one of them, a big, fat lump of a man he had seen before, distinguished by three neck ripples of fat sitting on top of the collar of his shirt. He was slouched forward over a table nursing a glass of amber liquid, most likely expensive whiskey due to the reputation of the place, with one foot up on the cross beam of the chair and the other resting on the toe of his shoe. He had sushi, Killian could smell that much, four tiny pieces of fish decorated with carrot and cucumber that probably cost as much as his suit.

Off to the sushi scoffing man’s left was the other pitbull Graham kept at hand who Killian liked to refer to as ‘bowtie’. The man was easily spotted in a crowd because he always insisted on wearing a red bowtie with a crisp white shirt with matching red cufflinks that sat next to his oversized hands. He didn’t say much, not even a little grunt, but he was always sitting closest to their boss, and it wasn’t long before Killian spotted Graham Humbert behind him. He was, as usual, pretending to watch the world go by like it owed him something, and Killian felt the bile rise in his throat.

“Jones,” Humbert greeted cordially, pushing himself to his feet and extending his hand. Killian’s eyes flicked towards the man’s palm but he scoffed, his jaw ticking in annoyance. When he lifted his gaze back to meet Graham’s, a sickly sweet smile grew over Humbert’s lips. “Sit down,” he commanded like he was talking to a dog and motioned to the seat opposite him.

Killian refrained from hitting the man by biting his inner cheek and undid the single button on his suit jacket so that he could sit more comfortably. He sank down into the seat, a plush but executive tub chair with a checkered pattern that only just accommodated his bulk, and leaned back to take in the man before him. He hated Humbert even more with each meeting and he couldn’t help but dig his nails into the brass rivets at the front side of the chair’s arm.

“I’ll spare you the formalities, Mr Jones, because I’m a busy man,” Humbert began, sinking down into his own chair.

Killian thought the knee high table between them wasn’t enough space and he despised the feeling he had when Graham reached into the breast pocket of his fine, tailored jacket and fished out a pristine white envelope that clearly bulged with his payment. Humbert slid it across the table, tapping it with a finger.

“I’d love to know what you did with my wife last night.” He raised a brow, almost impressed. “She’s very happy.”

The thought of knotting Emma flashed across his mind, and Killian had to suppress a smirk, shifting in the chair when his groin tingled.

“Not something I’m willing to share this time.” Killian looked Graham dead in the eyes and didn’t look away, emphasising the first word. “However much you pay me.”

Graham took him in, sniggering at Killian’s aggressive tone. “Yes, well, you can spare yourself the Alpha dramatics, Jones. I wasn’t looking to take anymore of your ‘secrets’.” Graham flicked his wrist, his clearly solid gold watch heavy and rattling just a tad against his skin, and then looked at the time. “I don’t have time for your stories today.”

“Something more important to do?” Killian snapped.

“Someone, actually,” Graham sneered, licking his lips afterwards. “And she won’t wait long.”

Killian bit his tongue, regretfully deciding to not upset the man who could control his access to Emma.

“Please,” Graham scoffed, brushing the wrinkles from the front of his shirt as he pushed himself to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye Killian saw both bodyguards stop whatever they were doing and prepare to leave as well. “Spare me the judgemental looks and angry Alpha brooding. A man has needs, I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

Killian leapt to his feet, chest to chest to Graham. “I’m not just a man though, am I?”

Graham didn’t flinch, instead grinning like a proud cheshire cat. “You’re whatever I pay you to be.”

The blood pounded in Killian’s ears, his heart rate well and truly elevated to beyond what his body was comfortable with. Emma was worth this. Emma was worth anything Humbert could throw at him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play unfairly either.

“Your wife wants a knot,” Killian blurted, his hot breath fogging Graham’s face through clenched teeth. When Humbert’s smile faded, Killian knew he had touched a sore subject. As much as Graham could pretend, he would never have that one true Alpha attribute he wanted as desperately as his wife. “It seems a shame to leave her so unfulfilled,” Killian shrugged. “I mean, we might as well not even have this arrangement at all if she isn’t getting what she wants so you can get what you want.”

Killian heard Humbert take a deep breath and consider his words. Killian mulled over his expression, watching the puny man’s entire thought process by simply studying his face, Graham’s eyes widening between frowns as his mind went to work. Killian could tell Graham was conflicted. No Alpha for Emma meant no mistress for him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Killian’s lips.

“I might have an idea so that everyone is happy,” Killian shrugged casually, knowing from the way Graham was sweating that he hadn’t found an option to his own dilemma yet.

“Go on,” Graham encouraged.

“I know of a certain toy that could facilitate what your wife wants,” Killian offered. He stepped back and buttoned his jacket, pushing the button through its hole slowly and deliberately. The smile that graced Killian’s lips was a combination of memories of the day before, when he had actually knotted Emma for real, and the knowledge that Graham was so arrogant, he would believe this whole thing to be his idea. Killian knew Emma would want nothing less than the real thing, his knot thrust up into her as she whimpered in delight, but that didn’t stop Killian playing Graham’s ego against him. “There would be no actual knotting, of course,” he finished, looking up to Graham’s intent expression. “As per your contract.”

“Like a sex toy?” Graham frowned.

“Exactly,” Killian nodded smugly. “A lot of hired Alpha’s wear them during encounters.”

“How much extra would this cost me?” Graham sneered, disgusted but intrigued at the idea all the same.

“Nothing,” Killian shook his head. “I’m sure I can afford one, what with your generous payments.” Killian leaned down and retrieved the money from the table, the envelope crinkling in his hand as he folded it in half and tucked it into the front pocket of his pants. “I just need to know if it's against the agreement we have to use one.” Killian's voice was darker, and he fixed his gaze on Graham once more.

Graham waggled a finger in Killian’s direction, a small chuckle tumbling from his mouth. “You know, Mr Jones, I think I’m beginning to like you.”

Killian shuddered, swallowing hard and looking down to his feet.

“Go buy what you need,” Graham nodded, balling his hands in his pockets. “In fact, why don’t you take Emma with you and then go back to the apartment.” Killian’s head snapped up at his offer and Graham just gave him a sickeningly modest glare like it was still up to him whether Emma saw Killian or not.

“What’s the catch?” Killian narrowed his eyes.

“No catch,” Graham assured him with a bow of his head, the most honest thing Killian had ever seen him do. Maybe the fool was in love with his mistress after all. “Think of it as a bonus for a job well done.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Killian scrutinized Graham, knowing full well that a man of his stature never did anything without something in return.

“Let’s just say, with Emma away, the mice can play.” Graham winked and Killian felt his stomach turn over. Now he was absolutely sure the man before him held no love for his wife at all, willing to defile their marital bed with his mistress, something he knew Emma was against doing with him. Then again, he also knew it wasn’t about respect for her marriage, but finding something new with someone else, somewhere else that held no memories of Humbert repression.

Killian felt sick at the thought of Emma as some sort of transactional incentive, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it was from Graham Humbert. Killian already knew he would do anything for her, Humbert be damned, and he dreamed of taking her away from everything she knew and showing her the life she deserved. Emma’s life wasn’t pleasant, he knew that, but when she was with him, she was herself, the real Emma, and Killian wanted that for her all of the time. Maybe he could show her that today.

“If you insist,” Killian nodded in agreement, only too willing to take Emma out and show her exactly how precious she actually was.

Not seeing Emma for a few days had almost killed Killian, especially when he knew that the next time they would see each other, they would be shopping for something he had tricked her husband into agreeing to. The idiot. Truth be told, Killian had in fact needed to pre-order the knotting toy in advance and they would just be popping to the sex store in order to retrieve it, and that freed up their entire afternoon. Because of his girth, the store had needed to have it custom made, something that had made Killian dance inside with glee because he was sure, at some point, Humbert would want to see it. Even if they didn’t need it, because Killian would be damned if he thought Emma wasn’t getting the real thing, he wouldn’t put it past Humbert to need proof.

All of his worries soon dissipated when his cell phone buzzed in the pocket of his pants. Killian had been lingering outside of the store for far longer than he should have been, one or two of the staff occasionally looking out of the black tinted windows to make sure he wasn’t some creep stalking their customers, and just like the last message, Emma was apologizing for being late. His thumb lingered on the cold surface of his cell phone, her words almost identical to the last message and setting panic in his bones.

His mind raced with scenarios that might make Emma late, from good to the very worst, and he cursed himself for even thinking some of them. He knew she would be arriving by a driven car, so graciously provided by her husband that Killian knew was just a front of generosity so Graham was sure she was out of the way whilst he entertained his mistress. Killian’s heart had long since given up breaking for Emma at the thought though, because he knew she would gladly let the mistress move in if it meant she could see him more often.

Finally, after what seemed like forever holding his breath and tapping his locked phone against his other hand, she came into view. He’d told her to dress for lunch but he had also neglected to remember the social divide between them, her dress far superior to his attire. He’d gone casual, just some chinos and a v-neck t-shirt under a summer blazer, but Emma took his breath away in what she was wearing. It wasn’t the plain, almost sheer magnolia off white top half that had him really rigid, but the bottom half, a short, black, thigh high skirt sitting under a matching rippled cumberbund style belt that hugged her waist and let him see the skin of her thigh. He swallowed hard as she approached, her hips sashaying from side to side with every step away from the car, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as her heels carried her closer.

Her hair was perfect, a fishbone braid across the top of her crown and hanging over one of her shoulders. Killian felt himself grow hot and imagined his hand wrapped around it, pulling her onto his cock over and over, just like a few days ago. Wisps of her perfectly toned blonde hair sprang out into the air but it just reminded him of how gorgeous she was as he watched her sleeping post coitus, his hands itching to flatten them and stroke the shape of her skull lovingly. Last but not least she was wearing a smile, one he had never seen in any photographs before, and one that was assuredly reserved for just him.

“Mr Jones,” she said sweetly, her hand reaching out for him after she tucked her matching cream clutch under her arm.

Killian took her hand with a growl, lifting it to his lips and inhaling her skin before looking up to her with a sultry stare and pressing his lips to her knuckles.

“Emma,” he breathed, her name everything. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Thank you.” Emma smiled sweetly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Her eyes roamed his body, taking him in from head to toe and back up again, her tongue darting out to taste her lip as her eyes lingered on the bulge in his chinos.

“When you have quite finished,” Killian told her, tugging her fingers and bringing her back to reality. “One quick stop and we can be off to the restaurant for lunch.” Even saying it out loud made him tingle with warmth, like they were going on a real date, in public, with people seeing them side by side, and Killian couldn’t suppress his Alpha urge to let everyone know who Emma would be with at that moment.

“I’m not going to lie, Killian, I know exactly where we are, and there are no restaurants nearby.” Emma’s lips twisted into a coy smirk and she felt him squeeze her fingers. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

Killian couldn’t hide his glee any longer and he let their hands dangle in front of them as he stepped forward to greet her with another kiss to her cheek. The softness of her skin made his knees buckle a little, but he managed to regain a sort of semi-composed state for what he had to tell her.

“This was actually Mr Humbert’s idea,” Killian smirked and when Emma’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead, he raised one too. “Or so he thinks.”

Emma looked perplexed. “Why would Graham let you take me to a sex shop?” She wasn’t even annoyed at the mention of her husband, because the idea of being here, with Killian, was far outweighing any hatred she had for the man who thought he supposedly owned her.

“That’s a story for another time,” Killian told her cryptically. He stepped back, interlocking their fingers and tugged her after him, encouraging her to follow. He bit his bottom lip, looking her up and down between steps, sighing audibly in appreciation of the way she moved after him. “I’m not sure this outfit is appropriate for lunch,” Killian teased, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to keep my eyes on you and one eye on every other man in the place?”

“And why would you need to do that?” Emma feigned modesty and Killian noticed a little more sway in her hips as she walked, drawing, tempting him to a fate he knew would have him killed one day.

Once they were through the doors, and hidden from any prying eyes by the darkness of tinted windows, Killian pulled his hand from hers and let it fall to her hip, his fingers hungrily grabbing at the material of her skirt and bunching it up until it was raised up towards her waist a little more. He stepped into her and Emma gasped when her bare shoulders hit the cold of the window and his knee between her legs stopped her from losing her balance and tumbling to the ground.

“You know why,” Killian growled sultrily, his nose pressed against hers and their lips a hair's breadth apart. She smelled of perfume, floral with undertones of her natural scent that had Killian rolling his eyes in his head and his jaw clenching tighter than he thought possible. It seemed a few days had been too long without her near him, and his hands skimmed the shape of her arse hungrily.

“How can you be so sure other men find me as desirable as you do?” Emma’s words were strangled in her throat that had gone bone dry from the way Killian’s thigh was rubbing against her clit through her panties.

Killian chuckled darkly, his tongue licking over her lips as he moistened his own in response to her fingers gripping his bicep through the material of his blazer. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” Killian taunted playfully with a shake of his head. “When are you going to realise how precious you are?”

Emma’s hand snaked up behind his head and held it in place as she moved hers to the side, the softness of her lips brushing against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “When are you going to show me?” Her fingers clawed over the back of his neck, raking through the hair there ever so gently that it had all of Killian’s nerve endings firing at once. “Again,” she added, her voice lowered and full of fire as she slipped out from underneath him and made her way into the main part of the shop.

Killian grunted in frustration, spinning his entire body off the window pane and following after her like a man on an invisible tether. She was something, he had to admit that, especially when, by watching the shape of her behind in her too short skirt, he had failed to realise that she was heading towards the lingerie section. He looked up just in time to see her holding the barest slip of material up to her body before looking back at him through her lashes and quirking a brow.

“How do you think this would look on me?” She asked innocently, tucking the material under her breasts and accenting them as she pushed them up.

“Not as good as it would look on the floor,” Killian whispered as he reached her and inspected the garment. It was made of lace as red as blood, with two cut outs on either side that would definitely show the contrast of her milky skin down to her hips where the built in lace underwear sat. The bra part was padded, hiding away her best parts behind another layer of matching lace and Killian made a mental note to make sure that never happened. His thoughts were soon interrupted when he noticed, with a glint in her eye, Emma was indicating to the slit like opening on the panties with a wiggling finger and a coy smirk.

“You sure that’s where you want it to be?” Emma teased, biting her tongue and feeling the material of the bra as if she were Killian kneading her breasts.

Killian whimpered and toyed with the little red bows that stuck to each hip of the garment, the material pure silk between his fingers. All he could do was shake his head, an Alpha pathetically reduced to just actions by a woman, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. He peeled the lingerie from her grip and Emma almost squealed with glee, her face erupting into an excited smile that made the skin behind his ears burn hot with pleasure. “I need to pay for this and retrieve something, then we shall go to lunch.” He took a step back, the air just two feet from Emma much easier to breathe in, but he immediately missed the heavy weight pressing down on his lungs.

“Perfect,” Emma beamed at him. She had that glint in her eye again and Killian’s jaw nearly hit the floor when she lifted her hand to her face and gave the tip of her thumb a salacious lick, the mystery behind the green of her eyes darkened by her lust once more. “I’m starving.”

Killian couldn’t help the way he was smiling, despite Emma telling him more than once to stop. They sat opposite each other in an almost rooftop restaurant and Killian had made sure they were seated next to the window so that they could both enjoy the view, not that he had seen much more than Emma right in front of him. Emma as she was. Emma in the new lingerie he had just bought her. Emma like she had been when she took his knot. God only knew how his brain managed to fathom much else at this point.

They had, somehow, managed to order some food, even if they were both anxious for what was to come afterward. Humbert had pretty much given him the green light to take Emma back to her apartment, so Killian wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity when it presented itself. When he thought about it, finding loopholes in Humbert’s contract really was about as much fun as he had imagined, especially when so much was at stake.

“Thank you,” Emma said softly, shaking him out of his daydream by placing her hand over his. Killian looked down to where Emma’s fingers were tangling with his, the edge of their palms resting against the pristinely white table cloth, and gave her a sideways cock of his head.

“For what, love?” he asked sweetly, rubbing her thumb with his.

“For this,” Emma said with a nod, motioning around the slowly filling restaurant with a wave of her free hand. “For showing me that I’m not just arm candy for a businessman.”

Killian sucked in a breath and released a laugh at the same time. “Emma, you are so much more than that. What will it take for you to realise that?”

Emma blushed and diverted her eyes back down to focus on the hypnotic way Killian’s thumb was still etching the feel of his skin onto hers. Her smile faded and Killian was sure he saw a little bit of a tear in her eye, frowning and giving her hand a gentle tug until she looked back at him.

“Look,” he began, licking his lips. “I know this isn’t ideal, what we’re doing, but for what it’s worth, I’m having the time of my life.” Killian smiled at her warmly and she mirrored the shape of his lips with her own. “What happens when your husband is sick of his mistress is my only uncertainty.”

“You think he let this happen because he has a mistress?” Emma scoffed a laugh, looking away from him sadly. “Please, Killian, there have been other women and you’ve met the man. He’d do anything to avoid a divorce.” The sadness that laced her words pained him right to his soul and Killian felt his fingers tighten around hers when she turned her head to stare blankly out of the window. “The only reason you and I ever met is because he was trying to keep me quiet and retain his Humbert bravado. He can take this all away from me as quickly as it began.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Killian said defiantly.

“He’s done it before,” Emma almost sobbed, her voice weak and small in the back of her throat at the memory of how many times Graham had promised her so much only to rip it all away to keep her in line. She never wanted to imagine how it would feel to have Graham take Killian away from her now that she had known him.

“Aye, maybe, but you’ve never had me fighting for you before, have you, darling?”

At his words, Emma looked back to him and welcomed the way his confidence in her was written all over his face, from the curve of his lips as he smiled to the sparkle in the blue of his eyes. Emma had never known any Alpha other than the Humbert men, and certainly hadn’t known one to give the likes of her the time of day. But Killian was different, affectionate and passionate, and she knew that no matter what, she would be making the most of him tonight.

“You are a man of many firsts, Mr Jones,” Emma smirked. She pulled her hand from his and moved to lean forward, her head resting on her hand as the point of her elbow sat precariously on the edge of the table. She trailed one of her fingers over her lips, giving them a little tap.

“I’m also wonderfully committed to seconds,” Killian grinned. “And thirds, and fourths.” He winked, letting the corner of his lips pull up into a sideways smirk, one eyebrow jumping up higher on his brow.

“And is that what you want?” Emma teased, rolling her shoulders back so that Killian had no choice but to divert his eyes down to the sway of her breasts underneath the sheer, cream fabric of her dress. “To knot me again?” Emma blinked, looking up at him through her lashes. “And again?”

Killian didn’t mean to laugh but he hoped it helped that the tips of his ears turned a rather attractive rosy colour as he pawed at the patch of skin behind them, his tongue darting out at the memory of her taste on his lips.

“Like I need to breathe, love,” Killian said finally, rolling his bottom lip under his teeth and letting an appreciative hum escape his mouth at the memory of the feeling of her body around his knot. “I’ll beg if I have to,” he admitted with a nod.

“Would you want it now?” Emma’s eyes lit up with glee and she couldn’t hide the excited grin on her face. “With all these people around?”

“Aye,” Killian said, his words even and his voice a little huskier than it was before. He leaned forward and Emma could have sworn he was staring directly into her soul. “I’d fuck you over this table until you begged me to knot you because you couldn’t take not having it any longer.”

His words, despite what she had asked for, made Emma’s entire body prickle with heat. Every muscle was remembering the feel of his hands on her skin, the feel of his cock inside of her and recalling the way it felt to have such a rock hard, welcome intrusion like his knot. She pressed her thighs together at the thought, her core clenching with need and a little bit of hot, wet, discharge leaking out of her. She wasn’t sure if Killian could smell her, but his eyes definitely darkened around the edge of his hues and he drew his fingers into a clenched fist as he stared her down.

“I’m sorry,” Emma blushed, swallowing hard. “Would you excuse me? I just need to use the ladies room before our food arrives.”

Killian shook his head slightly, and pushed himself to his feet. It was probably the most gentlemanly thing Emma had ever seen and had been sure, when Graham failed to do it, it was the stuff of myths and legends that women only read about in books. The heat across her cheeks was more vibrant now, and there was no way Killian didn’t know what his words had done to her, or why she was heading to the bathroom at all.

“Of course,” he said cordially but grabbed her arm as she moved past him, leaning in and almost licking the shell of her ear with his words. “Hurry back,” he whispered, his words dripping into her ear like a hot wax that sent a shiver down her spine, before he stepped away and left her wanting even more than before.

Emma barely made it to the bathroom, her legs shaking and her skin on fire with a burning itch that only Killian could sate. She ran through the door, politely apologising to a woman she bumped into on the way, and flattened herself against the cool tiled wall. She let out a breath, long and uneven, her lips quivering slightly as she gulped down air, trying to quell her arousal. Emma had never felt so alive, her whole body aching as she pinned her weight against the wall, fingers clawing at the grout and her knees threatening to buckle at any second.

“Fuck,” she panted, pinching her eyes closed. How did Killian have the ability to make her feel this way with just his words and a sideways sultry glance? Emma was sure it was black magic. Or witchcraft. Or more simply, it was her pure, unadulterated need, two compatible people fitting together like puzzle pieces, her body crying out for him every time they met. Whatever it was, she was pretty sure that she would never make it back to her apartment without some sort of cooling relief for the sizzling heat that was eating her up from the inside out.

Emma bolted for the nearest stall, slamming the door closed behind her and sliding the lock into place. Not even the toilet seat lid offered her relief as she sat down on the cold plastic, and she slumped back against the cistern with a grumble. She pinched her eyes closed but all she could see was Killian, his eyes darkened to a lustful grey and his lips curved into that toying smirk he always did before he fully ravaged her. She loved it, and needed it - him - but all she had right now was her hand and her imagination, so with a hurried pant, Emma bunched up the material of her skirt, opened her legs and slipped her hand between her thighs.

The material of her underwear was already wet, the damp patch just below her clit cool on her skin. Her fingers toyed over it, sliding back and forth, teasing her body with the idea that she might slip lower. The friction was minimal but just enough, her nipples hardening in her bra and the material rubbing against them, causing her even more frustration. She let out a groan that was a little too loud, the sound of her voice reverberating off the bathroom walls.

She only stopped for a second to make sure no one had heard her, instantly missing the way her hand felt on the outside of her panties. She skimmed her fingers over the fabric again, sighing when she pushed through her folds and found her clit, circling the nub and feeling her entire body relax as she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Even just thinking about Killian had her body reacting like this, essence practically dripping from her core as she strummed out a beat over her clit.

She had to make it quick or Killian would grow suspicious, and Emma wouldn't put it past him to come looking for her. What if he did? Suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad idea to take her time, but Emma wasn't that patient, parting her legs even wider and settling the material of her underwear over herself where it contoured the shape of her clit and, with every flick, had white light erupting behind her eyelids.

Emma canted her hips to meet the rub of her hand, her body shaking as her clit grew harder and more sensitive with every sweep. Her thighs quivered and she needed to place her free hand on the stall wall for balance, her inevitable orgasm creeping up on her and leaving her whimpering Killian's name. The room was spinning, even behind her eyelids, and the warmth of the heated bathroom was beginning to affect her, a sheen of sweat condensing across her skin.

She’d never done this before, masturbated in a public place, and it was the most exciting thing she had ever done. Her entire body tingled, her hand shaking, her brain telling her to stop the assault on her clit that was pulsing and throbbing, but her body crying out for more. Her breathing was uneven and the skin under her braid tightened against her head, pulling all of her hair and reminding her of how Killian had grabbed it a few days ago. It was enough, the memory of Killian and what he could do to her making her legs and back stiffen as she came, her hand furiously rubbing at her clit through the material of her underwear and extending her pleasure through painfully gritted teeth.

It wasn’t enough, Emma could tell that the second her orgasm rippled away as quickly as it had arrived, but it was enough to keep her sated for now. Or so she hoped. Now her only problem was her soaking wet panties. Emma looked down between her legs, holding the ruffles of her black skirt aside as she inspected the dark grey patch that had appeared there, her clit still pulsing with aftershocks as she tugged the material from her skin. There was no way Killian wouldn’t know about this, because even she could smell herself in the confines of the cubicle.

He had done this to her. It was still beyond her exactly how, but Killian had this effect on her like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was like her body was his obedient puppy, eager to please him, willing to do anything for a little attention and it had never felt so right to let it. Emma’s lips turned up into a wry grin as she stood back on wobbly legs, shimmied her wet panties to the floor and then picked them up, straightening the creases in her skirt whilst balling the damp material in her fist. Horny didn’t even begin to describe how she felt, the thrill of masterbating in the bathroom of a restaurant combined with the knowledge Killian was hers all afternoon still coursing through every fibre of her being.

They had to skip lunch and Emma knew exactly how to do that.

When she reappeared, Killian was absentmindedly staring out of the window across the expanse of the city, but the slight rise of his elfen ear gave away his smile. He didn’t turn around when she approached, but he knew she was there, heels gently tapping the polished floor, their echoes eaten up by the sounds of the other diners. His hand rested on the tablecloth, fingers stretched outwards as if covering hers that had left the spot a few minutes ago.

“Sorry about that,” Emma chirped as she neared him. She reached the table, her hip brushing his shoulder as she passed, and in one swift motion that even left her surprised by her own audacity, Emma dropped her sodden lace panties to the table right next to his hand. “I needed to take care of something.”

Killian’s head snapped towards the garment beside his hand, his fingers lifting off the tablecloth that had suddenly become like hot embers under the tips. Similarly, his ears were burning with the tell tale tint of a blush that was soon replaced with the ferocity of his inner animal as he plucked the lace from the table and was immediately hit with her scent. It was the perfect combination of the sweetness of peaches and the exoticness of star anise, and he would gladly risk the toxicity of the latter if it meant he could feast on her for hours.

“You couldn’t wait until after lunch?” Killian smirked, tucking the panties under the table and out of sight of the other diners. He scrunched the material in his hand and rather than tuck it into his pocket, he unzipped his fly and tucked it into the crotch of his chinos and through the peephole of his boxers. Even the mere feeling of her clearly self-fuck soaked underwear against his cock had him hard in seconds and he had no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing when she had dropped them at his proverbial feet.

“I’m not hungry,” Emma lied coyly, leaning forward in her seat until her bare clit met the cold, harsh surface of her chair and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh, you’re hungry, love,” Killian teased, opening his legs a little wider so that his length wasn’t so painfully restricted in his pants. “Just not for what’s on the menu in this place.” He quirked his brow at her and Emma smirked back at him, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth and letting out a groan as she rocked forward again.

“And you are?” Emma teased back, twirling the tail of her braid around her hand and giving it a little tug, mimicking the way his primal urges had turned her on so much a few days before.

She couldn’t help the way he was playing her like a finely tuned piano, despite being in a public place, as if something was calling to her, telling her to jump and trust that Killian would catch her. Without a second thought she knew she would. She would leap from whatever height if it meant falling into his arms, especially now, and if the way he was looking at her like a ravenous animal was anything to go by, she would gladly let him devour her too.

“Pay,” Emma demanded quickly, hurrying to grab her clutch beside her.

“W-What?” Killian stammered, shocked by her sudden urgency to leave.

Emma pushed herself to her feet and Killian stumbled to follow her, the hard-on in his pants restricting his ability to stand upright. He stepped out from behind the table and she flattened herself to his body, not a sliver of light able to pass between them. She groaned in her throat, the feel of his hardness against her setting off another flow of slickness to escape her core, only this time there was no fabric to stop it and it began its descent down her inner thigh. Emma’s hand snaked up behind Killian’s head and she clutched the hair there in frustration, her only outlet in a room full of people.

“Pay now,” she ordered again, her breath hot against his neck where she couldn’t help but taste his skin there with a lap of her tongue. “And I’ll suck you off in the car.”

They had only just made it out of the car park when Emma had dove across the gap between them and was fumbling with the zipper of Killian’s chinos. He hissed as she snaked her hand into the opening, deft fingers stroking over the outside of his boxer shorts and hardening him even more than the anticipation was. Killian's knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the wheel and Emma tore into his underwear like a thing possessed once she realised how hard her prize was.

Emma had never blown an Alpha before and once his cock sprang out into the artificially heated air in the car, her eyes went wide with glee. Alphas certainly put most men to shame, and she licked her lips at the sight of him standing proudly for her attention before grasping him as firmly as she could close to the base of his cock and shivering from the filthy sound he made in response.

“Eyes on the road, Jones,” Emma said huskily, running her tongue over the point of her canine. She felt like a wolf, hungry for the meat Killian was dangling in front of her, the blood pounding in her ears as she used her other hand to grip the girth of him just under his tip.

Killian felt his hips shift forward in his seat, an involuntary spasm, the only reaction his body knew to her touch. He wanted her to stroke him, needed her to massage his length. What she had promised back at the restaurant was so close his balls ached. Her breath ghosted over his cock, the tip of her tongue flicking out to taste him as she held him, hot and hard and perpetually suspended in the promise of what was to come. He had to blink thrice as hard to focus his eyes on the road knowing that once her mouth encased his cock, it would be almost impossible to drive in a straight line.

“Emma, maybe we should wait until-,” Killian began, his heart hammering in his chest and the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

“Shut up,” Emma snapped and Killian tore his eyes off the road to look at her beside him.

She was on her knees, crouched below the height of the window and hunched between the seats, her elbows resting on the only part of the seat visible beside his thigh. It twitched as his muscles contracted, his entire body as stiff as his cock was in Emma’s hands, her hands burning into his skin far hotter than his own body temperature. Emma was wet, he could smell her in the confined space of the car and it made him heady, his palms a little sweaty against the smooth surface of the wheel.

Killian had no idea what had gotten into Emma but he was not about to complain. Very few people had the bravery to tell an Alpha to shut up, and under normal circumstances the hormones raging through Killian’s body would have had him seeing red in no time, but the tone in Emma’s voice, insistent and desperate, had him hardening in her grip. She was ravenous and did something to him that he couldn’t explain. His body cried out for her, especially now he knew what it felt like to knot her, and one of his hands slipped off the wheel and smoothed over her back in gentle encouragement. Very little time passed between Killian touching her and Emma finally wrapping her lips around his length and all he could do was gasp in final, hot, wet relief and force his eyes to stay open whilst he drove through a foggy, sex hazed vision.

“Oh,” Killian gasped on an inward breath, his knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the wheel. “Bloody, Jesus, fuck,” he grunted when he felt Emma smirk against his length, her tongue lavishing over a particularly prominent vein that had swollen in her mouth as her hands went to work on the base of his shaft. With a hum, Emma let her hand drift into the opening of his fly, aching to have more of him in her grasp, her fingertips barely touching the bulb of his knot that was wrapped up in her come soaked panties.

Emma lifted her head, releasing him with a pop and hungrily licking her lips as she salivated over the taste of him in her mouth. Her hands went to work where her mouth had been, shifting up and down his cock and making Killian growl in frustration.

“So that’s where you put them,” Emma grinned triumphantly.

She hadn’t expected to find her underwear in his pants but it gave her a huge sense of gratification to find them there. She had never felt so powerful, so insanely and irrevocably turned on before. Her life had given her few chances to be the aggressor during sex, but Emma was a woman who knew what she wanted, if nothing else. Killian Jones was what she wanted, and she didn’t even wait for his reply before sealing her lips around his cock and stealing his breath once more.

Emma’s head bobbed up and down, spit dribbling out of her mouth and over her knuckles as she went down and her tongue slurping over his skin as she eased back up. Killian tried as hard as he could to focus on the road ahead of him, but thankfully the traffic was minimal, encouraging him to speed and run at least two red lights on their way to Emma’s apartment where he skidded to a stop in her parking spot. He had an overwhelming need to come, to fuck Emma’s mouth until his knot popped out of his body and he’d encourage her to extend his pleasure by sucking him some more. The mere thought had his fingertips digging into the curve of her behind, the only intimate part of her he could reach from his position.

But reality held him back. There was no way he wouldn’t draw attention by getting out of a car in broad daylight with an erection so massive, and as if Emma could read his mind, she doubled her efforts. Her movements sped up and Killian could feel his tip bumping the back of her throat, the muscles there contracting around him and pulling him in even deeper. At one point, Emma gagged a little and Killian wasn’t sure how much longer he would last under her assault. She hummed in appreciation, a soft whimper of pleasure slipping from her mouth between breaths as her fingers toyed with the smooth skin of Killian’s balls and caused another involuntary buck of his hips.

“You’re so close,” she purred, letting him slip from her mouth and not giving him a second before licking him from a straining knot bulb to tip. “Let go, Killian. Let me take care of you.”

“Oh, fuck, Emma,” he whimpered, legs shaking as he felt the unmistakeable thrum of his climax. “Suck it,” he growled and encouraged her to take him in her mouth once more with a gentle touch to the back of her head. His fingers toyed with her braid and his inner animal couldn’t be contained anymore. “I’m going to come so hard for you. Fill up the back of your throat like you need.”

An audible whine vibrated from Emma’s throat, a plea for what only Killian could give her. She arched her back, desperate for his touch where she needed him the most, her body language so incredibly wanton that Killian had no hope in holding off his orgasm. What he hadn’t expected was her skill, the way she swallowed him down like she had been made specifically for him, her throat relaxing around him as she crammed his entire cock into her mouth. Her tongue laved around his knot bulb, a soft wetness that, before he had time to stop it, had his knot popping from his body and his euphoria washing over him.

The world began to spin and Killian’s leg spasmed, his foot pushing so hard against the floor that he thought he might punch a hole right through the bottom of his car. He was coming, and he was coming harder than he had ever come from oral before. An Alpha’s place was to make his partner happy and so he had rarely been on the receiving end of a blow job, and they had never felt as good as the one Emma was giving him. It left him shaking and he held her face to his crotch, one hand around her jaw and her braid twisted around the other. When Emma gagged on his come, he tried to free her airway by pulling out, but Emma wouldn’t let him go, greedily swallowing every last drop of his load with a satisfying gulp.

“Wow,” Killian gasped, scrubbing his hands over his face in disbelief of his bodily reaction to Emma’s talents. “I...you...wow,” he giggled, ignoring the discomfort of his exposed knot and the hotness in his groin.

“You popped your knot,” Emma smirked gleefully, stroking her fingers over his still hard length and enjoying the way he twitched from her touch.

“I swear I didn’t mean to,” Killian laughed. “You were just...” he began but Emma’s proud grin stole his thought. “Just wow.”

“You need to work on your compliments,” Emma nodded with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye, love,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I have plenty of time to think that over whilst I wait for my knot to recede.” He blushed a little and Emma watched as he adorably scratched the patch of skin behind his ear.

“I’m sorry,” Emma offered sympathetically. She took his hand in hers, giving his fingers a little squeeze to emphasize her apology.

“Don’t be, love,” Killian assured her, interlocking their fingers. “It’s only uncomfortable for an hour or so,” he teased, lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

“Plenty of time then,” Emma smirked playfully.

“For what, love?” Killian asked her with a narrowed stare.

She leaned in close, gripping his hand tighter and holding it to her bosom. “For us to talk about later,” she whispered in his ear, her words making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “When we see just how good that outfit looks on the bedroom floor.”

#A/B/O #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fic #alpha!killian #emma swan #cs fic #cs au #omegaverse #graham humbert #will scarlet #liam jones #the contract #ch 5

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moonlightdreamzz · 4 years

Text

Send Off :: Jung Jaehyun

Request: “Could you write a Jaehyun x black reader where it’s a rainy day before he has to leave for a while? We can literally do anything I just need it in my life. It doesn’t have to be super long either I’m sure you’re busy.”

A/N: I live for this content. YES! 🤩

Whew, you hated rain. I mean how could anyone enjoy something that was so overly loud, made you uncomfortably wet, and was guaranteed to get you sick in some way, shape, or form.

You had made so many plans today. Frozen yogurt, a little pre-tour shopping extravaganza, and to end it all, a nice dinner; candlelit to be exact, where you and your boyfriend could relish in all the memories you had made this past year. Well—soon to be year. Although there was no real humor in such a sad case, you always jested and celebrated like it was your anniversary before he had to leave for awhile. Otherwise you would miss it.

So why today, out of all days, did the sky have to crack open? Seriously, you couldn’t believe the way the sky taunted you, laughing at the fact that it ruined your plans.

Everything was currently annoying you. Your coffee brown bonnet that shielded your protective hairstyle from getting frizzy too fast, seemed like it was creating isolation from you and your pillow. The plaid pajamas that you were gifted many Christmas’ ago? Made your legs itch to the extreme, so much so, that you slipped them off and threw them to the other side of the room. You wanted to go back to sleep in hopes that when you woke up, the sun would be shining, but you couldn’t stop tossing and turning.

“It’s going to be like this all day; dark and gloomy.” A raspy voice whispered, placing his large hand on your soft belly, giving it a smooth rub.

Jaehyun was always a mind reader when it came to you. In this moment, you probably weren’t all that difficult to read, but still, you were never less than impressed with his abilities.

“Are you serious?” Your body unconsciously curled up as if you were an child. This only made him want to hold you tighter, as he was now making sure your back was directly on his chest, and his breath could make your ear tingle.

“Unfortunately. Well, unfortunately for you should I say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you had plans for us today. Probably too many.” He chuckled, even though you could sense he still hadn’t even opened his eyes. You just knew his eyelids were still a pinkish color, resembling the boyish feeling he felt whenever you touched him, but actually meaning he had slept well.

“I just wanted to make sure you had fun.” Your voice began to quiet down as you continued, “We’re not going to be together on our one year anniversary, and this is going to be the longest we’ll be apart. I’m just...I’m not fucking with it, dawg.”

“Dawg?”

“Yes, dawg.” You breathed out, getting a light chuckle out of his chest.

“Well, dawg, maybe I can teach you a little something today. What do you think about that?” His hand moved from your stomach, to your “wonderous” legs. That’s what he always referred to them as. He would always play with them, gently slapping them just to see them bounce back at him. He loved to rub up and down your thigh as if he would be able to taste your supposed flavor.

Now his lips were pressing soft kisses down to your shoulder, starting from your earlobe. “Even without sunlight, you’re still glowing. And all mine too.” He groaned, clearly getting riled up. Unfortunately for him, you felt yourself dozing off. It didn’t take him long to figure this out, as he stopped all his rubbing and sweet nothings to call out your name. His favorite word.

“Baby?”

Of course you weren’t hearing it, as your lack of slumber was finally hitting you at such a perfect moment.

The last thing you felt was his head burying itself in your fluffy bonnet, taking a deep breath to intake your scent. He always tries to guess what grease or oil you used the previous night, and this morning his guess was argan oil. Before he came home, he remembers how excited you were about the so-called pure smell of the thick liquid, and he could now understand why. It wasn’t too long before he fell asleep as well. How could he not when your bodies were so close?

The cycle repeated itself once more, except this time, you felt much more energetic. Although you didn’t mind your current position, if Jaehyun wanted to do backflips around the house right here and now, you’d probably agree.

The rain was still splattering on your newly installed roof, courtesy of your neighboor, but it wasn’t bringing you anger anymore. Jaehyun always was able to calm you down, and make thing that upset you seem childish and simple.

He was right. You two were very much so capable of staying in.

The black sheets that you two had purchased months ago were so warm, and the heat radiating off of his chizzled body was even better, but you two needed to eat. Your room was always going to be complicated, yet simple, and every morning you couldn’t help but to look at the splattered paintings hanging that represented different parts of your personality. Obviously it wasn’t morning anymore, but the routine didn’t change.

You pushed all of your braids that were too excited to be set free back into its overnight home, before you set off into your kitchen.

“Hey Siri.” You whispered, alerting her that you had a request. “Play Megan Thee Stallion.”

You grabbed all of the utensils you needed, while she shuffled through all of her magnificent works. Siri decided on Big Ole Freak, and you couldn’t be mad in the slightest. Your inner seducing manner was coming out slowly as you sung along, swaying your hips along to her sharp bars, but you were still beating the pancake mix perfectly.

Truthfully, by now you should’ve been able to sense his presence in a room. I mean—he always could for you. It didn’t matter where you were, the size, or how many people were there; his eyes would always find you.

And even now, his dimple smiled brighter than his teeth could while he watched you have the time of your life, singing to one of your favorite artists. When he would see you even remotely look in his direction, he would sneak back around the corner.

“Hey Siri.” He finally spoke up, clearly scaring the absolute shit out of you because you fell straight to ths ground; a habit you had formed long before he fell in love with you, or even saw you from the first time. “Play some Frank Ocean.”

Even while you sat on the freshly polished wooden floors of your kitchen, you shined brighter. You glowed more angelically. He always thought it was the cutest thing when your laugh caused you to throw you head back, and he could properly see the way your cheeks accentuated your face.

“How do we go from Meg, to Frank babe? It doesn’t go together.”

“Anything goes together if you says it does.” Mid sentence, his hand reached out to yours, pulling you up and straight into his uncovered chest. He quickly kissed your plump lips, and you could tell he was willing to forget about your trials of cooking breakfast if he could have you.

“Mhm—eat first.” You giggled, pulling away, but not even fighting when he pulled you back into his strong arms. His kisses were now making your entire face wet, but you didn’t mind for him.

“Breakfast at 12pm? I think I’d prefer to have you.”

“Nope. Nuh uh.” Your finger managed to break free, finding a place on his chest. “The rain may have ruined my plans, but you? No. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“But that’s the thing...I am. I’m trying to give you what’s best for you. Plus, you may not want me now, but the minute I walk out that door tomorrow morning who’s going to cry? Me or you?” He taunted with a smirk.

If you could blush, you would. Regardless, your cheeks were tingling and as you always did when he used such bold word choice, you burried your face into his chest.

As if your head was more comfortable than his memory foam pillow, he rested his cheek onto of your bonnet.

“Argan oil.” He finally guessed out loud, prepared to mentally slap himself if he was wrong.

Your head lifted from his chest, with your mouth now in the shape of an O. “How did you know!”

“Because I’m a good listener.” He whispered gently. His eyes were buried deep into your soul; a place only he was invited to. A place he built from the ground up. His favorite place to be when he felt unsafe, or uncertain. Or even when he was happy and didn’t have a care in the world.

“Well, they do always say that good listeners should be rewarded.” You looked up onto your colored ceiling.

His laugh echoed through your home, making it even more comfortable and soothing than it already had been. “What do I owe you? Frozen yogurt? Stallion tickets? A new wig?”

“No Stallion tickets. Too expensive.”

“But the other things—

“Would be great. You’re such an amazing boyfriend.” You cooed, pressing your own kisses to his face now. “I’m kidding.” You breathed out. “What would be really great was if you cleaned this up.” You pointed to the sad attempt of breakfast that laid on the table. “And I’ll be waiting for you.” You scooted past him, feeling his blush and intense smile even though you couldn’t see it.

“Oh do you drive me crazy, Y/N.” Was all he could say, slapping your behind with a clear echo, before promptly turning around and getting to work.

#nct #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #kpop poc #poc kpop #nct ambw #ambw kpop #kpop black reader #black reader #jaehyun #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct scenarios

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jksangelic · 5 years

Text

defanged (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: smut, fluff, werewolf!au, a/b/o au, pwp

↳ pairing: mates werewolf!reader x werewolf/alpha!hoseok

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, dom themes, breathplay, knotting, rough play, impregnation kink, overall general ”werewolf” smut themes, personality change, probably an uncomfortable amount of squishy mate talk

↳ summary: hoseok is an easy mate—as such that there are moments you question if he’s just human. so when his sudden spike of aggression emerges, you do your best to keep this unknown man at bay. or, alternatively: young alpha hoseok has started teething and he’s being a bratty puppy about it.

↳ note: ok so if you were with me a few months ago you would know that this is actually a collab fic with a couple other writers but life happens and here we are now *cowboy emoji*. this is really important to me bc they’re such *clench fist* great people and i’m happy i received such an opportunity to collab with them (’: pls make sure to rb/like/visit our collab masterlist if you want to be in-the-know of when they post their parts!

also i wanted to play around with the humorous sides of what werewolves might go thru (-: so, like, short attention spans and hating loud noises and typical big dog stuff. with the teething, just imagine that their growth stages are prolonged because they’re, idk, maybe immortal or something lol

(i…… i’m not used to writing fantasy can u tell)

((gif isn’t mine + his side profile ;-;))

↳ words: 9k+

You could hear every miniscule thread snap and unwind from themselves, a simple task such as painting your nails becoming less relaxing than it should be.

“Hobi,” you mumble once. You swipe down your thumb again, carmine red smoothing over brightly and with utmost delicacy. He doesn’t listen, another squeaking grind of his teeth against the material of his sweatshirt followed by a snapsnap.

“Hobi,” you say a little louder, flinching from annoyance and staining your cuticle with the polish. You curse your discontents, waiting for him to look at you but only meeting a turned neck and eyes still glued to his phone, an I’m listening portrayed by his demeanor but not really meaning it.

He chews hard on the neckline, a solid rip completely tearing several inches down his chest, eyes widening and attention finally caught when his chest is exposed hilariously.

“Hoseok!” you yell, slamming the closed bottle onto the coffee table and meeting his startled eyes, “I just bought that for you!”

He hopes to play it off and shrugs as you swipe it from his teeth, untwined fibers poking out sadly. You smooth your thumbs over the poor fabric, the third victim of his recent gnashing problem.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you ask sadly, a little more bummed about the beautiful sweatshirt than you should be.

He responds simply, “My gums itch.”

You roll your eyes at his childlike excuse, the full-sized man sitting cross-legged and distractedly in his corner of the couch with his phone paused on some game with horrendously annoying music. Was he really your alpha?

“Why don’t you do us some good and go hunting.” You offer, a lame excuse to get Hoseok out of your hair for a bit. It’s what you deserve. He rolls over with a harrumph, shoulder now bare from the growing tear in his clothing. It made you giggle slightly.

“I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me,” he deadpans, body static-still and stubborn more than ever.

Your breath fans his skin as you slither next to him, “I’m sorry, baby. Are you really hurting? Why don’t you go to the dentist?”

Hoseok pouts, taptaptapping away at his screen instead of looking at you, “I don’t want to go to the dentist. They just itch.” Even now, he licks over the burning sensation of his gums, clenching and grinding his teeth to ease the feeling in any way. You can hear the collisions of his canines, your own tingling uncomfortably from the sound.

You shake your head. “Maybe you’re teething,” you suggest in all seriousness. It wasn’t impossible; your kind’s lifespan certainly placing such life stages at seemingly unusual times. In any case, it would simply mean his canines were most likely growing longer and stronger.

He scoffs as if you’ve insulted him, “I’m well over my teething days, Y/N. They just itc—"

“Say that one more time and I’ll neuter you,” you huff. When he lacks a kinder response, you push yourself off the couch to tidy your bedroom instead. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to have a serious conversation with you at the moment, and despite its rarity, you could use your space.

Your mate was in no way irritable; in fact, Hoseok was one of the sunniest alpha’s you’ve ever encountered. His kindness differentiated him from others, bearing his mark (and one day, hopefully, his pups) certainly deeming you quite lucky. He was a soft lover above all, never making you feel as a subordinate or anything of the like.

Perhaps it’s why you two were clashing heads recently, his personality completely contradictory from his true self. Never does he ignore you, let alone snap at you.

Folding your clothes (and purposefully leaving his items in a pile on his side of the bed in spite), you exhale heavily and leave for the living room once again, disregarding your now smeared manicure.

Hoseok beams at the shoe aisle, producing more light than whatever was already lit in the store. Due to his “issue”, stopping by the mall was a given. Two more of his shirts and even one of your necklaces mangled and chewed up like he was the Tasmanian Devil.

Petting his hair fondly, you give him a nuzzle to his cheek, “I’ll be in the next store over, puppy. Come meet me when you’re done.” He nods happily, wide-frame glasses bobbing atop his pretty nose.

You beeline for the department store in hopes of purchasing a few extra things for yourself before Hoseok sniffs you out. It’s immediate heaven when you sift through the dresses, picking a few out and dangling them happily on your fingers before bouncing from rack to rack. By the time you reach the dressing rooms, your arm aches from the pile you’ve accumulated.

“Hey there, you can go ahead and take that first stall right there,” a man directs, tall and intimidating and rather fucking handsome, you think. “My name’s Jaebum. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll go grab it for you.”

You bat your lashes and mouth a Thanks before waltzing into your room, appreciating his kindness perhaps a little too much. Despite your complex and absolute relationship status, it didn’t hurt to peek at what’s on display. It was only right!

You try on more than what you even remembered picking out, velvets and satins and the softest of cottons all hugging you warmly with every piece, a bittersweet happiness when everything seemed to fit you perfectly. The last dress, though, is your only hiccup. Material skin-tight and ending just a little above your ankles; you harrumph. Almost a perfect streak.

Dress still on (at least it zipped), you peek through the door and spot handsome Bum at the front. “Psst, um, do you mind getting me a couple more sizes in this? I think it was near the wall to the right.”

He grins and nods, almost grateful of the fact that you asked him to do so. Why was he even in this section? Should it concern you?

You watch as he leaves, back muscles showcased quite lavishly in his pristinely pressed suit.

Should it be more concerning that it didn’t?

You take a moment to look at the dress once more, smoothing over the velvet that bunched snugly at your waist and checking out your own ass. The fabric might rip if you sneeze too hard but you look pretty damn splendid.

“Found a few more and got you another color as well,” Jaebum says upon return. You almost snap your neck away from the mirror, hoping he didn’t see you ogling your bum. What a speedy fellow.

You politely open the door wider and reach for the hangers, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Jaebum doesn’t fully hand it to you though, briefly but noticeably skimming over your body, “I think that size is cute on you too. You have a really beautiful figure.”

Maybe it should concern you. You chuckle awkwardly and look elsewhere. Please just give me my dresses, you almost say, now self-conscious in your skin.

“It’s even better when she’s naked. I would know,” Hoseok near growls, appearing out of thin air. He swipes the hangers from behind Jaebum, who is surprised beyond all comprehension of the word, and pushes you back into the room. You’ve never seen him look so enraged, face serious and twitching as if he would shift at any given moment.

“Th-There aren’t allowed to be more than one person in a—,” Jaebum nervously starts from the other side before the door is slammed on his nose.

You didn’t even see Jaebum’s reaction, nor do you ponder it when Hoseok drops your beautiful dresses and thrusts your back against the mirror with his hand to your neck, deliberately making you yelp loud enough for others to hear. You recoil as he bares his fangs, sharp and taunting, threatening to devour you whole and you know this isn’t your Hobi.

He doesn’t get the chance for whatever else he had in store when pure vehemence engulfs you, daring to stand your ground with a low guttural snarl and shoving him off. Your strength is nothing to snicker at, his shoulders nearly hitting the other wall despite his stature.

“What’s wrong with you?” you didn’t even care if everyone in the damn store could hear you, “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Regret instantly arises in his eyes, his hands reaching out to comfort you in any way but hesitant in the warning. He would rather die than hurt you, he was sorry, he was so sorry.

Your body can feel his sorrow and want, itching to touch him in any way but you push it down. The little she-wolf in you whimpers as you struggle out of the dress and leave him alone in the stall, begging for you to go back and forgive him.

Jaebum stands, bewildered, outside of the rooms. He sure did rue the moment he ever made advances on you. Not a word is spoken as you pass by and exit the store.

It doesn’t make it any easier when Hoseok follows you closely. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please.”

“You were going to shift because of some stupid sales clerk! You could’ve gotten us in some deep shit with the order,” you scold, “We’re going home. Right now.” This was a double-edged sword, you didn’t even get to purchase anything. Though your mood is far too foul to continue.

“But I didn’t! No one saw anything. I just lost my cool for a second, I promise. I know better.” Even Hoseok strains to keep up your pace, car already in view and goddamn you walk fast.

“Do you? Are you seriously justifying your actions? You need to uphold your responsibilities, Hoseok. You’re not new to this.” He finds that he despises when you lecture him this way, gums and skin and everything prickly and he wish he could gnaw on something right about now.

It was odd to tell him these things, taking into consideration that his role is considerably higher than yours and that he hardly ever faults as an alpha. If there wasn’t something going on biologically, what else could it be?

He’s obviously straining to keep his composure now, jaw slacked and knuckles cracking in his fist, “How am I supposed to do that now? It won’t happen again. It’s over.”

“Then what about your shitty mood swings? We don’t argue, Hoseok. You’re not mean, you’re not easily agitated, and you’re not a fucking paper shredder. Neither are you aggressive to your own mate,” you throw in his face, unsurprised when he cowers again at the thought. It’s like the man was on his period.

Now that you recall, the last time you’ve ever seen him so angry at you is when you watched Endgame without him, and that should say enough. This was just all so new and unbecoming of someone with his level of reputation.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that. I never want to hurt you…” he leads as you beat him to the driver’s side of the car, watching him over the hood for him to finish his sentence, “I’m just—”

“You what, Hoseok?”

He jostles the door handle a few times, a rep of unsettling clacks making him uneasy.

“Can you unlock the car?”

“You what?” you say a little louder, entirely avoiding his question.

“Goddammit,” he hisses, “Just let me in and we can talk about it when we get home.” You scan his face in search of anything. For the truth. For him to own up to what it is. What you get is nothing.

So you smile, “No.”

He stands cluelessly as you unlock your door and hop in, starting the car with a satisfying roll and opening his window just enough to see his addled facial expression.

“What are you doing?” he deadpans.

“If you won’t admit it then you obviously don’t take me seriously, and if you won’t take me seriously then I’ll take my car home by myself. So, toodles!”

He smirks nervously, slender fingers sifting through his hair, “Y/N, c’mon. Just let me in.” He’s even more staggered when you start reversing out of your spot. Eyes widening hilariously, he cusses under his breath as he walks cautiously towards the door.

“Have a fun run, baby. Better get home soon,” you feign pity, “looks like it’s going to start raining pretty soon.”

“We live an hour away!”

You drive down the row, turning on your signal just in case someone needed to know. Shucks, you were such a good driver, even in the parking lot.

Hoseok thinks otherwise, anger and panic so vivid that you can feel it from this distance. Walking Time Bomb even begins to jog, not willing to risk your bluff.

“Okay! Okay, I admit it. I may be going through something…” his wavering voice trickles into your head. “You’re right.’

You let him catch up to you, eyes shifty and fingers fiddling. “Hi, darling. Can you say that one more time? In person?” His chest puffs.

“I already said it once,” he begs.

Was his pride this important? Did the strangled mutt deep down change your Hoseok for the worst? An impatient car behind you honks and you shrug.

“You’re making people wait. I’m going to leave.”

“Jesus fucking—okay. I think I’m teething. Or something involving my dental state. It’s making me fucking grumpy and it’s painful and I want to punch a fucking wall because it’s stupid that this phase is so late.” You unlock his door mid-sentence, his body falling into his seat before he continues to blabber on.

“Oh, little puppy,” you slide your sunglasses from atop your head down to the bridge of your nose, “Don’t be so sensitive. ‘S like a human adult getting braces.”

The week passes by agonizingly slow. And that wasn't necessarily because Hoseok bitched and complained, throwing temper tantrums when the remote had fallen between the couch cushions or throwing his pants stormily when they would catch on his ankles and make him hobble about like a disabled chicken.

Or maybe it was because of that.

You dare to creak the door to his den (pun intended), having locked himself in such confinement to work through the paperwork that's been piling on his mahogany desk for days. He looks worn around the eyes, long brown hair pushed back with his fake reading glasses. You knock three times as if he couldn't already sense your presence. When he looks at you through his lashes, he nods for you to proceed.

"Hi, baby. How's the work going?" you ask with a honey-dipped edge.

He shrugs, "A lot of affairs from other packs that I have to go over. I should be done soon."

You slink behind his office chair and wrap your arms around his shoulders, "Mm, why don't you take a break and have a nice little bath with me?" He doesn't budge one inch, straightening out a stack of papers before stapling them neatly and tucking them into one of his drawers.

"I need to finish this. I've been pushing it back until the last minute."

Rolling him out a bit, you slide onto his lap and rest on his chest. Your touch always lulls a serene sensitivity from his skin, a natural effect that only you are capable of. But his muscles remain taut. Bones stiff and budging none whatsoever. Stuttering, you try again, "You've been working for hours. I'm lonely. Just an hour--,"

"Y/N. I'm warning you. Get off."

She-wolf unconsciously warns you to stand down upon this statement. Was he being serious? He's warning you? You search his blank face, waiting for him to crack a smile or lift you up and attack you with kisses. When he doesn't, you test the waters.

Your nails scratch the bare skin under his shirt, "H-Hoseokie, we haven't had sex in so long," you whine. Invading his space, however, only sets him off more.

He growls, deep and meant to be menacing. It takes brutal force to push yourself to move, a weight halting your ministrations. His word, no matter how rare it be, was your law. Do you dare defy that?

You unbutton his pants the same time he threatens, "Continue any further and see what happens." He's breathier than normal and that gives you some satisfaction. He was your mate, after all. Eternal fulfillment was your duty.

The feeling of his heavy and growing bulge, nestling in the crook of his thigh, is a success all in its own. You purr and rub your legs together, licking at Hoseok's neck lovingly and waiting for him to give in. "Hobi, you're already--ah!"

Your view spins as Hoseok scruffs you to his desk, cold wood pressed to your cheek and wrists somehow pinned behind you. Yiping in fear, you struggle in his harsh imprisonment.

"You don't fucking listen," he complains, voice balancing on the line between speaking and yelling.

"Hoseok! L-Let me g-go--," you start before he grinds himself into your ass, boner prominent and angry as it prods. He replaces the hand to your neck with his mouth, laving and suckling all the way down your shoulder.

"Can't do that. I warned you and you disobeyed me. You disobey your alpha, Y/N?"

"No, I'm sorry--," you squeak before your dress is thrown over your back and a sharp slap comes down onto your ass.

You don’t believe the sound that comes out of your throat, pressing your thighs together and wiggling the pain away. “J-Jung Hoseok! What is—” Another slap, harder than the first.

The nerves tingle all the way down to your toes as your eyes roll back. You moan once more, unsolicited and without restraint. Hoseok is content with your reaction, not expecting you to squirm so nicely because of your punishment.

"You like this, don't you? I can smell you leaking like some submissive whore," he snarls with an edge of disappointment. You're beyond mortified of how he speaks to you, although not inclined to deny his words. Not when he spanks you once more, with such force that a scream is rewarded and your back arches in euphoric pain.

"Hoseok, no more, please. I'll--I'll cum if you keep, ugh," you blabber over yourself. He thinks you look prettily pathetic drooling on his desk, so close to spilling over the edge from being physically humiliated.

"Tch, so weak," he comments before releasing your wrist and letting you collapse to the floor. "Are you done?" The question both turns you on and pisses you off, emotions swirling into something self-destructive.

Crawling on the carpet and up his leg, you nuzzle into his bulge, "But I still didn't get what I want." You don’t even ponder where this behavior is coming from; slinking out of you like a dog with its tail between its legs. Perhaps his own change of manner influenced one in you.

He could laugh at how easy you were being, wondering when he ever mated with someone who acts like such a sexually-obsessed brat. "Oh?" he prompts, "So you think you get to make the calls here?"

Licking the hem of his boxers in response, he doesn't feel pleased with your lack of words. You perk up when he shuffles his cock out from the confines of his layers. It’s almost instinctual, not wasting any time to pepper kisses and kitten licks to his tip. God, he even smells amazing. You don't care if you look ridiculous, feverish with your actions like he'd take away your precious treat if you weren't cautious.

He snickers at you, petting your hair with an unexpectedly soft touch. Your heart-shaped irises peer up, knowing he loves your eye contact when you suck him off. Watching the blush spread on his face means that you must be doing your job correctly. Besides, not even the Big Bad Wolf can deny when he feels his pleasure.

He almost can’t stand the self-righteousness that oozes off you. If you thought you were in control, you were dead-wrong. "You want my cock that bad, huh, baby?" your love bunches as much of your hair as he can with his fist, "Then fucking take it."

Then his girthy dick shoves to the back of your throat without warning, hips to your nose and thrustingthrustingthrusting as far as he can.

You'd sputter if your mouth wasn't so full, eyes overflowing with tears and throat constricting in hopes that he'll let you go. When he doesn't and continues to grind himself down your mouth, you dig your nails into his thighs and whine on his persistent cock. It doesn’t matter, the digging crescents in his thighs rousing him even further and even hoping those pretty nails of yours leave marks for him. He’d accept no less.

Hoseok thrusts twice more before pulling you off and watching you cough maniacally. The tears that gathered were now running down your face, accompanied with your saliva that leaks from your chin and onto the floor.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't ask him to stop, and you loved it.

He cocks a brow as you struggle to catch up, "We'll stop here. You're obviously not made for this."

Pitiful is the only word he can use to describe how quickly you paw and beg for him, desperately wrapping your fingers around the base of his member and pumping him just the way he likes it, "No! I can take it, please use me." Your unstable hand massages the cum-saliva mix as well as it can, a small victory celebrated when he bucks into you.

"Mm," his thumb wipes a stray tear from your lip, "You're so beautiful when you cry. Will you sit on the desk for me?"

You don't hesitate to obey, being careful to hop up when your bum is so sore but otherwise eager for him to touch you again. When he places himself between your legs, your body hums.

"I'm... I'm not well, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you," he says, voicing his first concern after what's already happened. With his brows knit in concern and his slender fingers rubbing calmly at your sides, it's almost as if the Hoseok you know has returned. The Hobi that makes your pancakes just a little overcooked like you prefer. Who makes you a blanket nest when you’re feeling down. And will gladly give up his last bite of anything to watch you munch happily even after you’ve finished your own portion.

In some way, this was your same Hobi. Maybe not so sweet and innocent but more on the receiving end. Spending his days tending to you out of pure love and pleasure to see you bloom; it was just your turn to return the favor.

So you kiss him with fervor and mold your chest to his, feeling the scorching heat that emanates from him. He must seriously be straining himself, you think. His canines graze your lips and you know he's trying his best to hold back; to not completely obliterate you.

"I want to help you," you whisper against his mouth. You implore him and he doesn’t hesitate to take your offer.

You extend your legs as he rushes to pull down your thong, throwing it to the side, and embracing you with another kiss, all tongue and pants. Some of his documents get ruffled under your steadying hands and he shoves them off altogether, a rain of really important paper littering the room. He comes in a little too excitedly, slamming a drawer closed with his thigh and even scooting his desk across the floor.

“God fucking dammit,” he swears, your chuckles covering his wet lips. “I’m… a mess… not thinking straight. Need to cum inside you.”

You purr when his head rubs against your sex, an electric sensation tearing through you. “Want you to knot me,” you whisper. A mistake in its own because he’s practically moaning into your mouth when you say such things.

“Yeah, baby? Want your cunt pumped full? Hm?” he asks into your jaw, all the while spreading your legs as far as they can split with his strong hands. His hips begin to circle like he’s stalling as long as possible and that rouses you up in a way.

You nod with sultry eyes and chant, “Yes. Yes, yes.” By the second yes does he all but slam into you, your final confirmation his endgame.

Hoseok was truly blessed in size, something no mere human could ever match. His length alone would make you double over in ecstasy if he allowed you the space to. Squeezing around him only makes him fuck you deeper, both wanting and needing more of each other than you already have. You were made for him, and him you.

You whimper as he pulls out, his head tantalizing your g-spot before ramming back inside and forcing an angelic cry. “H-Hoseokie… Please, your pups. I want to have your pups”

The sounds of his hips against your skin with your moans and the subtle creak of his desk is almost humorous, you were fucking like dogs. Even more so when he pushes you flat against the wood by the front of your throat, his thumb tucked gently on an airway as your tongue flops out in simple bliss.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he snarls with a particularly evil drill to your core that curls your toes. “Nothing to me would be more satisfying than to breed you.”

Your throat constricts and you cough, your tiny hands tugging at his fingers while barely being able to pry his grip. You can’t resist moaning through clenched teeth still, even when the prettiest wine red pours into his irises. Hoseok holds back incredibly well, despite having shifting eyes, his total control never fails to astonish you. It was years worth of training and you thank the stars that it was useful in a time where you were literally stuffed with his cock.

“And you’re so willing; so obedient now. You like when I fuck you like this. Just want that beautiful pussy bred until you’re spilling, right?” he chuckles with means to humiliate when your eyes flutter and drool spills from your swollen lips, “What a mate.”

You tighten, an embarrassing amount of arousal spilling and sticking to your love. He doesn’t mind one bit, rather, losing composure for a brief moment, “Ugh, so good.”

His hand suddenly withdraws from your tender neck and you sputter an attempt to catch your breath, a fleeting moment before he wraps his arms under your knees and prompts you to hang onto him when he stands. How quickly he’s able to switch positions is hot in itself, but the thought is also lost when you sink down even further on his dick.

“Oh, oh my god,” you wail pathetically, wrapping yourself around him and trying to lift your trembling body to ease how full you feel, even for just a moment.

“Hm? I thought you wanted this, baby. Wanted my complete, unforgiving love for you. Isn’t that why you walked into my office?” he smirks similarly to how you imagine the devil would. His hands find leverage against the closest wall, also shoving you against it and resuming his pace into you.

This, to whichever persona was hiding deep down in Hoseok, was divine. Incredible. You would die for this man even without the bond. He was literally screwing you braindead.

He pants, warm and sweaty and shirt somehow unbuttoned halfway down (when did you do that?), “I thought you wanted my knot? Not anymore?”

Your pupils blow out as you shake your head, you were so close.

“Ah, then I’ll knot you. I’ll knot you but you have to beg,” he says with a wink. Bastard.

“Please, please knot me, baby. Breed me and let me have your pups,” you sob, “Fill me up until I can’t take it anymore, Alpha, please—”

He jabs incessantly until you’re entirely maxed out, sloppy smacks echoing out further than the den and his growls emanating when you drag your sharp nails down his back, the fabric tearing under your fingers. Hoseok grinds his full length into you, reaching beyond the end of your walls.

“S-Stay,” he orders. He slows as the base of his cock swells and even though you asked for it, it’s always a little uncomfortable. You can’t even fathom how it feels for your mate, his sudden groans and the absolute necessity to lave at your neck only scraping at the surface of any real indication.

Hoseok told you once that it was similar to both being overstimulated and having a sudden spike of energy, which could explain his touchiness. It was cute though, and kinda hot.

Nestled deep inside, you can subtly feel the ropes of semen beginning to pool. You rest your head over his shoulder, buzzing from the intensity of it all and watching as the walls move and shift into the ones of your bedroom.

Hoseok’s hoarse voice surprises you, “Fuck, I’m so dizzy.”

The bed is a heavenly difference from the den’s desk and wall, your heart pounding a little too hardly when he places one of his pillows lengthwise under your back for extra squish. He was so cute.

But then he collapses on you.

“Oof—I’ve never seen you like that before. My ass hurts,” you state dreamily.

“Oh, love. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks seriously, lifting his head to study your face in case you lie. The red dissipated long before, his deep brown eyes twinkling down at you like they always do.

“You were a little rough,” you feign, pouting and pushing around his face with paw-folded fists. He thinks you look like an idiot, a cute idiot.

“I’m sorryyyy,” he whines, burying his face into your chest and wiggling around like a fish. His knot moves with him and you wince.

“Hoseok, stay still.”

Being showered in a sudden attack of kisses is what he responds with, not even aware of the task at hand and fake crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you—I—oh no.”

You yipe as semen sloshes down your leg, shoving your palm into Hobi’s (who is undoubtedly back to his usual self) cheek and trying your best to not panic.

“Goddammit, Jung Hoseok! Stay still!”

beep boop hope you liked, leave some feedback if you did!

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bestillmyslashyheart · 4 years

Text

actions speak louder than words

Alex spent over two hours driving the streets of Roswell. The problem with a guy who lived out of his truck was that he could quite literally be anywhere. Alex checked every place he could think of then started going street by street until he spotted the beat up old Chevy parked underneath a large tree by the edge of the park. Alex parked his own car a little ways away in case anyone drove past and walked the rest of the way.

Michael was laying in the bed of the truck, a plastic bottle of what looked like nail polish remover hanging from his fingertips. His left hand was wrapped in a bloody cloth and his face was wet with recent tears. Alex didn’t say anything as he climbed up next to him. He ignored his own bruised body and broken ribs and pulled Michael into his arms. He came willingly, more limp than anything else really.

At first, Michael was like a rag doll, his body just laying there, unmoving, unresponsive. Every now and then his face would screw up and a few more tears would leak out of the corners of his eyes. He never said a word. Never made a sound.

All through his tears, through his pained wimpers whenever the air hit his hand, Alex rubbed slow circles on his back, his other hand tight in his hair. There was a large part of him that was terrified if he let go for even a second, Michael would disappear. So he didn’t.

They sat there for hours and Alex never let go. After a little while, Michael leaned into his touch and they shifted until they were lying down. Michael’s body on his chest was painful as hell but Alex didn’t even consider asking him to move. Not right now. Not after-

He tried not to look at his hand. But sometimes, he couldn’t not. The cloth was obviously once white but the blood had turned it a deep red. Michael hadn’t gone to the hospital, that much was obvious, and Alex knew he’d never recover. Whenever the thought crossed his mind he just held Michael tighter. Michael seemed to sense it and started hugging him back, his right hand reaching up rub at the shell of Alex’s ear.

They lay there until the sun came up. Alex kept checking his phone, delaying his inevitable departure, until finally Michael shoved at him to go.

Still, it took five more minutes for Alex to actually let go. And even then, it was only because Michael pulled him into a soft kiss. It was too soft almost, incongruous with the trauma they’d suffered, and it startled Alex enough that he let Michael slip out of his grasp.

Michael gave him a sad smile and pushed him gently towards his car until Alex finally left.

Alex got an hour out of Roswell before he turned around. He had an extra day to spare, really. It was just good practice not to drive 12 hours the night before he had training. But he could do it.

Michael wasn’t there when he pulled up to the Airstream, not that he was expecting him to be. The whole point of Alex coming back was because Michael wasn’t here.

The door wasn’t locked, it was never locked honestly, so Alex let himself in and occupied the next couple of hours by rooting through Michael’s things and tidying up. Michael wasn’t a slob by any means, the small space requiring him to pick up after himself, but the obsessive cleanliness of the military had rubbed off on Alex and he was used to a different level of clean these days.

It was earlier than he’d expected when he finally heard the truck drive up. Michael slammed the door as he got out but Alex didn’t leave to meet up, staying right where he was on the bed instead. A moment later the door swung open and Michael bounded up the short stairs.

Alex propped himself up on his elbows when he saw him standing there in his suit. He looked good, there was no doubt. He also looked miserable. Alex didn’t say a word as he scooted over to put his back to the wall and leave the majority of the bed free. Michael shed the suit and hung it up carefully, no doubt he had to return it tomorrow, and climbed in next to him.

He held himself stiff as a board but Alex ignored that as he flopped on top of his chest and hugged him tight. Michael’s arm came up around his back and the other played with his fingers.

“She was beautiful,” he murmured. Alex didn’t say anything. “It was beautiful.”

Alex hugged him tighter. Today was Isobel’s wedding day and Michael had been relegated to the role of friend. Isobel’s parents had been insistent that only family be a part of the ceremony so Max had given Isobel away and stood next to her husband as they took their vows. Max had sat next to Isobel and their parents at the family table while Michael was given a seat with people he’d never met and would never see again. Alex wasn’t even sure if Michael had been included in any of the family photos. If he knew Isobel Evans at all, he was sure she would have insisted on a few but he also knew the pressure parents could put on a kid and the Evans’ had certain expectations.

Michael had been dreading this day for months, his emails full of anxiety over it and half their conversations this past week about how he was going to make it through. He’d asked Alex to go with him but Alex had to report back. As it was, he’d need to leave in an hour or two if he wanted to get any sleep on the other end of the drive. But, for now, he had a few minutes to be with Michael.

Michael, who’d taken the event and the way it unfolded to heart in a way that Alex couldn’t quite understand. He’d never understood the insecurities Michael had about being wanted, about being loved. Alex knew his family was shit and so he had no expectations but Michael valued Max and Isobel Evans as his siblings, his family. So to be excluded from a huge event in Isobel’s life was hitting him hard.

Alex didn’t have any words to ease that pain so he just held him. It was all he could do.

His phone beeped at him an hour later, his warning that it was time to get on the road. Michael tensed under him at the sound so Alex hit the snooze button.

It went off 15 minutes later and he hit snooze again.

The third time, Michael sat up and turned off the alarm. Without a word, he got out of the bed and tugged on a pair of jeans while Alex got up.

He led the way out of the trailer and to Alex’s truck, pausing with the driver’s side door open while Alex caught up. Alex tossed his phone and his keys inside and looked to Michael, unsure of how to leave. They’d said goodbye earlier, when Alex had left that morning.

Michael gripped the back of his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Alex responded in kind but quickly gentled it, his own fingers tangling in the curls at the back of his neck. Michael nipped his bottom lip gently as he pulled away.

“Drive safe.”

The door closed softly on the nurse and Alex wanted to rage. He wanted to get up and slam the door or at the very least throw something at it. He was furious and all he could do was lay in this stupid bed.

It was infuriating.

It was demeaning.

It was miserable.

The door opened and Alex reached for the apple on his breakfast tray. His hand froze in mid-air as a head full of vibrant curls poked its way inside.

“Guerin?” Alex gasped. He hadn’t seen Michael in almost three years. Hadn’t talked to him in over one.

Sure enough, Michael Guerin pushed his way into Alex’s hospital room. He started to ease the door shut behind him, paused, then slammed it. Laughter bubbled up in his throat and Alex grinned for the first time in weeks. Michael smiled back, a little smaller, a little less gleeful, but genuine. He stayed by the door until Alex held up an arm and then suddenly he was next to him, half on the bed as he hugged Alex close. Alex gripped him back just as tightly even though their positioning made it awkward. He’d love to move and give him space to sit fully on the bed but Alex’s mobility was limited these days.

Michael pressed a kiss to Alex’s hair and pulled back. He hooked his foot through the leg of the bedside chair and pulled it close, sitting down once he could while still touching Alex. He hadn’t let go yet and Alex didn’t want him to. It felt so good to be touched by someone other than a doctor or a nurse. Michael gripped his hand tight and used his free hand to brush the hair off of Alex’s face. It was finally long enough that he could do that again but Alex couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it.

“Here,” Michael mumbled after a while, once the sun was up and Alex was waiting for his lunch to be delivered. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and held it up. It was a tennis ball. A little beaten, a lot old, but still. A tennis ball.

Alex took it, confused until Michael nodded his head at the wall opposite Alex. It was the only wall in the room free of medical equipment and far enough away that Alex could-

He chucked the tennis ball as hard as he could at the wall. It bounced back at him faster than he anticipated and it was only Michael’s reflexes that saved Alex from a broken nose.

With a laugh, Michael held it out again.

Alex through it again.

And again.

He caught it about half of the time, Michael the other half. Only once did Michael have to let go of his hand to grab it before it hit the machines and Alex was more careful after that.

By the time the nurse came by to let them know visiting hours were over, Alex had smiled more than he had since before the accident. They’d barely spoken two words the whole day, but they didn’t need them.

“I’ve gotta drive back,” Michael told him as he prepared to leave. Alex tallied up the hours it took to drive here from Roswell and felt a rush of love for Michael the likes of which he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.

He nodded and waited.

Michael turned to go and Alex couldn’t hold back the little whine. The nurse smirked in the doorway and left to give them a moment’s privacy. The second the door started to close, Michael turned around and dropped his jacket onto Alex’s bed as he grabbed Alex’s face with both hands and kissed him soundly. When he pulled away, Alex grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him back in.

A knock and a cough from the door broke them apart. Michael kissed him one last time and left without a goodbye.

Alex turned away from the doorway and stared at the tennis ball sitting on the bedside table.

The sounds of construction filled the air. A power saw whirred away next to him while hammers pounded across the room. Michael focused on not dropping the large sheet of glass in his hands as he and Kyle carefully guided it into the room.

They’d made no progress on fixing Max but they’d decided to fix his house. The fight with Noah had basically destroyed the back wall of his house, windows and doors shattered, and the weather was only getting colder. Liz and Rosa holed up inside for a few days before calling everyone to action to put a new wall into place. Michael wasn’t sure what qualified any of them to do any sort of construction but they seemed to be figuring it out. Alex knew his way around a saw and was cutting blocks of wood for the frame and the siding while Liz and Maria hammered everything into place. Rosa and Isobel were in charge of making sure all of the materials and tools were accounted for and ensuring that everything was up to code. Michael wasn’t sure what that last bit entailed but he knew Isobel had spent several hours yelling at people on the phone about it. Michael and Kyle were roped into the heavy lifting and had spent the last two days lugging wood inside and now getting the window panes into the house so that they could be fitted into the new openings.

They set it down gently against the wall and put some padding around it before heading out for the other piece. As they walked outside, Michael passed by Liz and Maria hard at work and he had to work hard to suppress a flinch.

His hand might be healed but Max could never do anything to erase the sound and the image of a swinging hammer from his memory. Maria pounded the final nail into place, a loud thwack ringing in the air as the saw cut out. She turned and smiled at him but all he could do was run.

He made it to the other side of the house before he realized he’d actually fled. Out here it was blessedly silent and he closed his eyes to soak in the sound. This far out of town, on the edge of the desert, there was no traffic, no wildlife, no people chattering. It was peaceful.

It also made it really easy to hear someone walking up next to him. Part of him wanted it to be Maria, wanted her to realize something was wrong and come after him, but he knew it wasn’t.

The truck shifted as the other person leaned against it, a careful distance maintained between the two of them. They stood together in silence for a minute, Michael refusing to open his eyes. When calloused fingers slid down his arm to his hand, he squeezed them tighter.

Alex pulled his left hand up and held it between his own, his fingers gently massaging the last two fingers and the outside of his palm. It didn’t actually hurt anymore (fuck thank you, Max) but a phantom pain lingered anyway and Alex’s touch soothed the ache better than anything else.

Michael wasn’t sure how long they stood there for but he relished every second. The quiet plus Alex’s touch and the easing of the pain in his hand made him more tired than he’d been in weeks.

“Next load?” Kyle asked quietly and how the hell did Michael not hear him approach? Alex dropped his hand slowly, met Michael’s eyes, nodded, and walked away without a word.

Michael watched him leave before facing Kyle and nodding. Kyle looked like he might be a little worried but he didn’t say anything and they quickly got back to work.

Michael was going to lose it. They had one min-57 seconds to get out of the building before it blew up and he was having terrifying flashbacks to Caulfield only this time he couldn’t find Alex. He’d already sent the others out, Kyle charged with making sure Isobel wasn’t in the building when it blew, and he was sprinting down the halls looking for Alex.

“Michael-” he heard a faint cough and he skidded to a halt. Quickly, he backtracked until he found Alex.

“Jes-” Michael started to curse when he saw him but they didn’t have time. He hurried in and lifted Alex up, his powers supporting his right side when Michael spotted the prosthetic lying twisted on the floor.

“They’re-” Alex started to say but Michael didn’t bother listening to him. Instead, he focused on getting them out of the room, down the hall, and out the door. He saw sunlight as the first explosion hit. Tasted the fresh air as the second hit, closer this time. He knew they wouldn’t survive the third one. A warm cocoon wrapped around them as the world exploded into fire. Michael pulled Alex close as the cocoon shrunk until it was just their bodies, hardly any air left to breathe. A long, long moment later, the fire receded enough for Michael to spot Isobel standing in front of them, a hand outstretched as she started to double over from the strain. He hauled Alex close and ran for safety, clearing the fire entirely just as Isobel lost control of the cocoon.

“Alex?” Liz cried as she rushed past Isobel.

“We need to go,” Alex urged. He nudged Michael in the direction of the truck, ignoring everyone’s cries as they got a good look at him. Well, what they could see under the blood.

Michael got them to the truck and put Alex in the bed before climbing up next to him. He tossed his keys to Maria without a word and wrapped his arms around Alex as everyone else climbed in. Within seconds, the destroyed base was fading into the distance.

“What happened?” Liz asked. Alex shook his head.

“Do you need a hospital?” Kyle leaned forward as far as he could, a hand supporting Isobel as she listed to the side. Again, Alex shook his head.

Kyle opened his mouth to argue the point but Michael cut him off. “It’s not his blood.” Kyle and Liz looked at him in horror and surprise while Alex just fell into him, suddenly listless.

Michael rested his forehead on Alex’s head as he remembered the scene he’d walked into. Alex had been sitting on the floor, covered in blood. Around him were the scattered bodies of his father and brothers. Jesse and the oldest had neat holes in the forehead while Flint lay gasping from a stomach wound on the other side of Alex. In his lap, Alex had held his older brother, the one he actually liked, as he murmured apologies, blood coating his lips as he spoke. Michael had spared them hardly a glance as he dragged Alex out of there but he knew that room was going to haunt Alex for the rest of his life. No matter how he’d felt about his family, they’d still been his family. And now they were gone. All of them.

Alex burrowed deeper into Michael’s arms and Michael shifted until he could swing Alex’s legs across his lap and hold him closer. This way, Alex could wrap his arms around Michael and hold him just as tight. He bent his head and pressed his ear to Michael’s chest, just over his heart. Michael cupped his head and held him there as he breathed slow and steady so Alex could hear his heartbeat and feel his chest move. He was here. He was alive. Alex hadn’t lost his entire family.

“Marry me?”

“Yes.”

#malex fic #my fic #rnm #angst and fluff?

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war--lords · 5 years

Note

I love your writing so much and I hope that you are taking care of yourself!! May I ask for Nobunaga and Angel and devil? Please and thank you!! :D

Thanks for the kind words!

Here's one that's longer than what I usually write. My Angel/Devil lore is based on Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman's Good Omens (a great book), which basically says that angels and devils coexist on the mortal plane to do their respective jobs, appearing as normal humans, but they don't die.

I really hope this isn't confusing. I started writing and went with wherever the flow took me. Enjoy the read (if you can)!

He's seen you around. How could a spawn of evil not notice his enemy flitting around his territory? Though really, Oda Nobunaga shouldn't be concerned. He's a high ranking officer of immorality, while you're just one of the virtuous obscures. (Your upper management would insist that all angels are equally important regardless of their rank, yet he barely ever sees them in the field and/or at work, so who's to say that they actually mean it?)

Often he'd spot you in less decent areas of the city, sometimes the slums, sometimes at shelters where good people congregate. And all that time he thinks you're foolish—hanging around outcasts, addicts, lost causes, trying to 'bring them back to the light', whatever that means.

But the more he watches you, the more muddled his sentiments become. He notices the results of your hard work in the air, because he is aware that there's slightly less depravity (a feeling he's born to sense) and more of something he can't completely place his finger on. Resilience? Hope? He's not familiar with those, but it has to be something along those lines. It happens whenever you talk to those people, whenever you offer a gentle touch on their weary shoulder, a simple smile. Everyone feels a little bit better, and that's good enough.

You roam the city alone like a hummingbird amongst concrete, trying to save souls, while he's riding in Bentleys and Bugattis to go to meetings where he inserts his hellish influence. He doesn't even need to do much work—the people he meets already think a lot like him.

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"There's room at the shelter tonight. You'd better go—and please tell anyone you see on the streets. It's not safe out here."

You receive one last grateful hug from the homeless man before he walks off to the direction you pointed at, and dare you say his steps look a little lighter. The sole of his worn-out boots are no longer being dragged across the pavement.

The sky doesn't. It's been a consistently dark afternoon, and through the open door of a quickly emptying restaurant you hear the faint sound of the TV. Category two typhoon... travelling from the southwest to the north... full force at 7 PM... looking at three days, maybe more... public transportation at total stop...

You have a few hours left to do your job, maybe help a couple of people get to a safe place if they don't already have somewhere to stay. You wonder if the shelters have enough water to make it through. Upper management probably wouldn't mind if you turn some dive bar moonshine into fresh drinking water—a great homage to the original, they'd say. You smile at the thought.

A car passes by the discreet drab streets, sleek black with newly polished tires and deathly silent even as it approaches. Not unlike many other cars in the city, but you feel it. Him, rather. From miles away you sense him, and you have known of his presence in your area for many months already. You don't bother with him, and in return he doesn't bother you, which is natural, since he's a good amount of leagues above you and you're too insignificant for him to deal with—or so upper management says when you relayed your report about him. You take it as a compliment. It means that you can continue to do your job while he continues to do his. It's mildly infuriating to think about (board meetings with lawmakers and huge corporations are obviously a big problem if the other side is behind it), but you trust that the senior officers will handle him.

You feel a gust of cold wind hitting you in the face and you zip up your jacket before shoving your hands into the pockets.

There's no time for you to dwell on the devil.

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Being an angel doesn't mean you're able to protect yourself from getting drenched. You'd gladly conjure a supernatural force field above you as the torrential rain hit an unsuspecting city one hour earlier than forecasted (successfully interrupting your work), but there were people all around and you didn't want the attention.

A bad day to leave the umbrella at home, you muse, running for shelter towards a local bar. The typhoon has begun, slowly but surely, starting with downpours and later on accompanied by strong squalls. You mutter a curse word under your breath that might upset your kind, but you can't find it in you to care at the moment. Your apartment is miles away and you have no way of going home in this weather.

Might as well get a drink.

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You're busy playing with your order in the old dimly lit bar, stirring and stirring and staring at the mini-tornado that forms in your glass. You take the stirrer out—a minute later and the liquid still moves, round and round and round it goes.

In desperate times like these, you're not above using your powers for your entertainment.

It's cold outside. The sun looks like it has taken the rest of the day off.

Cabs come around this area once in a blue moon, not wanting to get involved in shady dealings that are known to happen frequently. The rainstorm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, so there's no chance to make a run for it, unless you want to be soaked to the bone and, if you're unlucky, have some debris hurled on you, causing serious injuries. The bar is empty except for you and the bartender, so you have no hope of getting a ride out of this place. Unless the bartender plans on bouncing anytime soon...

You look up when the young man passes you a small platter of warm cheese fries you didn't order. You thank him with a smile—human food isn't a necessity for you, but you enjoy eating.

You're about to reach for a fry when you feel it. Him.

You sense it coming from a mile away, like a blip in your mind's radar. He's moving fast—must be riding in that fancy car, as always, but where's he going in a category two typhoon?

Ah well, the devil does work hard.

Trying to ignore the feeling of him, you play and play with your glass, never once touching your lips to its rim, as if the whole purpose of you ordering it was just to watch the storm that brews inside. That is, until you pick up his signal slowing down, down, down... before he finally stops. Outside the bar. Not even ten feet away from your seat.

Your gaze darts to the wooden door and its frosted glass centerpiece. A figure clad in black approaches. The door opens.

He has the gall to stop at the open doorway, his amber reddish eyes looking straight at you as if he's got you exactly where he wants you to be. He smiles.

You smile back. Courtesy is free.

While you turn your focus back to your drink, he walks toward you, the clacking of his dress shoes on wood panels resounding throughout the room. A normal person would consider the sound intimidating, but you're not a normal person—not normal, nor a person.

He sits next to you.

You slide the bucket of fries towards him. "Hungry?"

His gaze on you is intense, examining the most detailed of your actions. He contemplates on counting your eyelashes, but instead finds himself lost in the contours of your face. Your cheeks, your nose, the curve of your lips...

"Peckish."

He offers you a small smirk, picking up a single fry from the woven bucket and eating it in one go, all the while still looking at you. You look at him back, though in a more lighthearted fashion. It's not everyday you get to see a high ranking devil, let alone share a bucket of fries with him—actually, it's very likely, humans just won't know it when they see it.

"Do you like it?" You ask, actually wanting his opinion on carbs instead of making small talk. There's nothing between you and him to fight about in this moment, even taking the sides you're on into account. The bar is a safe space—you're just two otherworldly entities taking a break. Or so you hope.

"Of course I do," he replies. You realize this is the first time you've heard him speak. Sonorous and deep, he commands attention, and you don't happen to have other things to pay attention to right now. "I happen to be the one who put it in the menu."

You chuckle. "Of course you own this place." You've been around—it might not seem like it from front view, but you're not surprised if he owns the whole city.

The bartender now visibly looks less casual and more professional, preparing the usual drink for the proprietor of his workplace. Once he places the drink on the counter—an Old Fashioned—he leaves at the command of Nobunaga's hand. You're guessing that he lives upstairs.

"Oda Nobunaga," he says, extending a hand. You offer your own mortal name, clasping your hand with his in a firm yet amiable handshake. The two of you return to your drinks, him sipping on his Old Fashioned while you stare at yours go round and round the glass. There's a loud crashing sound outside followed by the howl of the wind. Neither of you look disturbed.

He ponders on your touch as clarity dawns upon him, as slow as a winter sunrise. It's the soft of your skin. And your smell. He doesn't know it yet, but he feels safe around you, like you'll never let anything bad happen to him. That's why all those lost souls are able to grow hope, even within the dry soil that is their hearts—one person who cares is all it takes to keep the dark at bay.

"What brings you here?" He asks, looking over to you.

"Work. You?" You reply, sounding simultaneously indifferent and courteous. A mystery, how you manage to do it. He doesn't care.

"The same." He watches as you finally pick up the glass to take a sip, and before he knows it, he's extended his hand to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Thanks," you say into the cup.

He smooths your hair from the top of your head to the tip and you nearly freeze. It's such a gentle gesture that you're left wondering if he's in the angel-corrupting business. He did mention he's here for work, didn't he? Perhaps the reason why he's still left unchecked in this city is because all the senior officers fell into his trap and, by default, from grace? All because of his affection that they find out to be false, but it's too late?

You don't know that he thinks your hair really is soft—softer than your hands, maybe. You don't know that it makes him want to play with you, toy around, perhaps with a little bit of force, perhaps break you. And yet. Yet! Another part of him cries in despair at the thought of you in rupture. Another part of him thinks that that would be the day all good in the world is gone, and then he would find himself disappointed at the lack of opposition to his power.

"Are you always this friendly with angels?"

"Only the pretty ones."

"Why, you make me blush."

"All the better," he says, sipping on his drink. "Red would look good on you."

"Can I ask you what your plans are exactly, Nobunaga?"

His lips curl into a smile. You said his name for the first time—how exciting.

"I intend to be acquainted with you, since we seem to share the same territory. It is likely that we'll be seeing each other for a much longer time."

"I suppose there are no other supernaturals around here to make friends with."

"I have my aides," he supplies, "but I am always looking to expand my circle."

You look at him, into his amber reddish eyes. They're eyes that have seen many a thing. Things that he didn't do, things that he did. Catastrophe upon catastrophe, but maybe also miracle upon miracle. Perhaps he's bored and needs a change—he has been around for quite a while. But seeking an angel's company? There might be something behind those eyes, lurking unspoken, waiting to be discovered. You've seen it all in humans, you just can't see it now in him. Maybe if you're patient...

What did the Book say about this again? Right. "Do not say to your neighbor, “Go, and come back, And tomorrow I will give it,” when you have it with you now."

Well, whatever he wants, you seem to have it with you. And come to think of it, you might have something you want from him, too.

You finish your drink in several big gulps and gently place the glass on the table.

"I'm actually thinking if I could get a ride home."

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"Where to, my Lord?"

A strange way to address your senior officer, you think, but stranger yet is the fact that this man sitting in front of the steering wheel is wearing a pair of olive sunglasses in the midst of a thunderstorm.

"You know the address, Hideyoshi."

It doesn't bother you that he knows where you live. You know where he lives, too. It's the radar in your head, the soft blip, blip. The unbiased supernatural comforts you, makes you feel like there is such a thing as justice. Both sides are on equal ground.

Much like the two of you right now, sitting side by side in the back seat, angel and devil, not far from each other, but not too close, either. Enough for your hands to touch if you want to. Speaking of, his hands do look cold.

You notice him look over at you again, this time more appraising and ponderous than the last, and you hear a displeased huff from Hideyoshi. Nobunaga seems unaffected, once again tucking your hair behind your ear for no noticeable reason.

"I look forward to getting to know you better, angel."

"In what way?" You ask, half in jest, the other half in actual curiosity. Is friendship between good and evil achievable, when the Grand Plan is designed to keep you apart? What course will he and you take, and will the end be as devastating as you think? Do you even dare think of the things to come?

He chuckles at your remark.

"An angel delivering an innuendo at me. I didn't think this day would ever arrive."

"One has to learn to change with the times," you answer good-naturedly.

"And how do you find the responses to that question so far?"

"My job doesn't require me to ever play that card," you say, incisive in the most off-handed way.

There's silence.

"Be careful not to get too arrogant," he finally replies, his voice lulling and deep, almost seductive. "Even the devil was once an angel like you."

Somehow, though, you feel as though it's a front—like he's acting his evil part, but there are things inside of him that are locked away. You felt this back in the bar, too. A secret that perhaps even he doesn't want to find out.

The devil was once an angel. Does he still carry that memory with him?

On the leather seat, the tips of his fingers meet yours. They're pleasantly warm.

#oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #nobunaga #reader insert #gender neutral #au #sfw #darling anon #cybird #imagines #imagine #scenario #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #1.5k

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