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creepsh · 2 years

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eram quod es, eris quod sum.

paring. siren!hawks x fem!reader

c/w. dark content, noncon, brainwashing, drugging, oral sex (f!receiving), loss of virginity, (1) mention of breeding, hawks is a conniving bastard, reader is a cranky know-it-all, some mentions of blood, a crumb of lore was stolen from supernatural

a/n. half of my reason for writing this was for @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb. you are so ridiculously talented at writing and characterizing this man; i drew a lot of inspiration from your seven deadly sins series, although i don't write as eloquently as you do so i pray it doesn't melt your eyeballs lmfao. the other half of this is dedicated to @hhawks owtw collab & to all of the amazing writers on this platform. hope y'all enjoy ♥

w/c. 21k

playlist. 1, 2, 3, 4

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

– H.P. Lovecraft

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Throughout your childhood, your grandmother would often tell you to be extremely cautious of the choices you make. Because for every action, there is always a consequence to follow. It is the very law of existence, she would whisper to you with fierce, unblinking austerity. It is the order of the universe – the grand design of “fate” itself.

Fate… such an arbitrary word, you used to think.

Despite loving her dearly, you also used to think your grandmother was just a cynical old woman, far too wary of forces that were beyond the grasp of mortals, and far too fearful of a world without her protection in it. Despite how… stifling she could be, you did not relish in her passing; she had raised you, after all. You hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to know your parents, whom had "died at sea" before even your first birthday had come to pass. That was all she would ever divulge on the matter, so it wasn’t as if you could truly lament for their absence, having never known them at all. Not even their names.

Perhaps her general oddness and cynicism was for the best, though, since it shaped you into a person that could endure the loneliness that came with her eventual departure from your life. It saddened you – like any living, feeling human should have felt – but you couldn’t help but admit how… freeing it was. Endless opportunity was suddenly at your fingertips, freedom to do as you please an avenue that you could finally walk. Or perhaps even sail.

The ocean was an entirely uncharted corner of life for you, a forbidden dream tucked away on a high shelf that could have been only reached within your mind’s eye, only manifested from the pages of books that you might’ve read a hundred times over.

Opportunity; it tread a very fine line between promising and dangerous. That you were made well aware of – a courtesy of your Grandmother's upbringing, of course. But in theory of all the random knowledge you had amassed, ranging from pointless to useful, you wagered that you had a chance at realizing your goals. You were penniless, but with an opportunity to step outside of your thoughts, to actually live for real… who is to say that you couldn’t achieve whatever you set your aspiring mind to?

You weren’t callow enough to assume it would be a breeze to do, but you had thought that as long as you had your wits, there would never be a consequence of which to answer. If you played your cards right, a thing called fate wouldn’t catch wind of you.

…or so you had believed, as all ignorant adolescents do.

One lesson your evidently all-knowing grandmother had forgotten to grant you with was just how fast such consequences were to catching up with you, and especially how easily they could be overlooked. You've finally begun to realize that mere book smarts alone wouldn’t pull you out of the rabbit hole, nor would your childish delusions of grandeur carry you as half as far as you thought they would.

Consequences, you ruminate bitterly, whilst peering upon an infinite expanse of shimmering, undulating sea. They certainly do have a way of catching up to you, one way or the other. Of course, only now were you fully taking her warnings, which were beginning to appear as grim omens, to heart – when it was too late to do anything about it.

The sound of a seagull’s raspy, screeching cackle disrupts the lulling murmur of fluttering sails and waves crashing against the ship’s hull, and for a moment, you entertain the thought of it being her spirit hanging over you, vindictively sneering:

I told you so.

A sharp whistle, followed by the gruff call of a name you aren’t familiar with interrupts your somber reverie. Right, the consequences that she often spoke of – you were soon to meet them, very soon.

The acrid smell of sweat and tobacco hits you before the sound of heavy footfalls resounding against wood does; a hand so calloused and tanned it could be better resembled to an aged, leather glove than an actual living human limb falls upon your shoulder, steering you toward the port side of this boat – your self-inflicted prison – to the one who summoned for you. The one who will decide your fate, in what is sure to come in but a few more moments.

“There she is – our lovely little stowaway.” You find yourself to be relieved that those words appeared to be laced with derision, rather than desire. At the very least, you’d prefer to not be robbed of your chastity before you die... but beggars on the precipice of death can’t quite be choosers, now can they? “I believe destiny brought you to my ship for a reason, girl. Are you ready to face yours?”

Whatever that entails, you were clearly about to find out.

For a moment, you were only able to stare up at the veritable mountain of a man before you, at the glacial hue of eyes that seemed to be utterly absent of all warmth or mercy, before derisively muttering, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” It’s not as if you had much a choice otherwise, at this point.

If he found your sudden compliance to be odd he must have deemed it unnecessary to comment on, because he turned his back to you without further preamble, directing his frigid gaze to the distant landmass that stood as a green blemish on what was an otherwise pristine portrait of blue. To you, it looked like any other ordinary island. A tropical paradise, if anything.

But you strongly suspect he didn’t come all the way here, in the middle of nowhere, for a relaxing getaway.

“Somewhere on that island lies the greatest treasure the likes of any pirate or king has known for over several hundred years. Many have died in pursuit of it, and far less have lived to tell of what they saw beyond its shores – if they made it that far.”

Nervous shifting comes from the man behind you, whom is still holding your shoulder captive, as if you had literally anywhere else to run except overboard. You try your best not to grumble irritably at his clenched grip, listening as intently as one who was on the verge of receiving a broken collarbone could.

“It is said to be a place of unimaginable horrors – for men, that is.” Ah, you see what point he was trying to make, considering the obvious. Sure enough, the captain turns his head ever so slightly to side-eye your diminutive form, reluctantly awaiting his verdict. “Few boats could ever sail close enough without being run aground because of sirens – wicked she-devils, who exist solely to prey upon the hearts of men. No man can resist their influence, and that is why the prize within that cursed place has remained unclaimed to this day. This is where you, my dear,” he sneers over the term of endearment, “come into play.”

His gaze flicks somewhere behind you, an unspoken order, and it’s only about a second or two of shuffling before it is answered – a tattered, rolled up scrap of parchment is handed off to him from over your shoulder that isn’t currently being crushed into mincemeat. Against your better judgment, or perhaps due to a lack thereof, you open your mouth to speak.

“So… you’re sending me to discover this treasure on the possibility that they wouldn’t target a woman? Even if that were so, what about… I don’t know – male sirens?”

The captain scoffs at the suggestion as he impatiently unfurls the paper, as if the idea were more outlandish than what he had already told you just a second prior. “There is no such thing – males have never been reported to be seen, but if you are snatched up by one…” He briefly looks skyward to snort humorlessly, as if such a thought were a half-assed joke from the gods, “then I suppose that’ll answer that question, aye?”

You aren’t sure what else to say in your defense, but he doesn’t seem to care for any more of your inquires anyhow as he is suddenly gesturing for you to look at where he’s pointing on a faded, crudely drawn rendition of the island before you – something he must have kept in his possession for many, many years.

“See this spot, where a shipwreck lies between these large rock formations?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes follow the path his finger drags slightly upward, where the sea meets a flat, tall cliff face. He jabs the haphazardly shaded area beneath it, which you notice to be covering the subtle outline of a circle. Your nodding stops. “Below here will be a cave entrance that has become hidden under the tides this time of the year, just beneath sea level. That is where many believed the treasure to be, judging by the amount of sunken ships you can find there.”

Gulping, you offer the large man an apprehensive glance. “The cave is beneath… sea level? I’m, uh, not really the best swimmer.” An exaggeration, which you cannot really be blamed for given your situation, but you certainly weren’t confident in the length that you could hold your breath. The thought of you writhing amongst a cold, heavy darkness, your final emotions being one of utter terror as your lungs inevitably fill with saltwater invokes a shudder within you. Despite your fascination with the sea, drowning had been a recurring fear of yours for as far back as you could remember, as if the roots of this day burrowed themselves to the foundation of your existence, amongst other obvious reasons.

You couldn’t help but find it a bit funny, at least, how life seemed to have a rather cliché way of coming full circle. Fate was not quite as arbitrary as it seemed…

“Well—” You manage to withhold yourself from jolting in surprise when he abruptly yanks the map from your intense scrutiny, rolling it back up swiftly and neatly before presenting it to you once more, slightly from beyond your reach. “It’s either this, or we sell your pretty ass off at the nearest port. I reckon we’d get decent coin off you. So—” He lowers his hand, leering at you with an obscure, prying intensity. “What’ll it be, girl? Become someone’s property ‘til the end of your days, or help me make history?”

You peer at the map – the physical embodiment of the ultimatum being offered to you – with thinly veiled skepticism. “Who’s to say you won’t just sell me after finding your treasure anyway?”

The captain huffs, “Don’t worry, your worth is nothing compared to what’s on that island, and besides—” His mouth splits into a grin that could be equally interpreted as a grimace, warping his face in a way that felt entirely unnatural to how it was designed; he looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life before now. “I am a man of my word. If you succeed, I’d let you walk free with about as much as you can fill your pockets with. Call it a gesture of my goodwill, and a little extra incentive for your success.”

Admittedly, the prospect of some creepy lech becoming your “owner” wasn’t helping you see many drawbacks to his deal. Either you succeed by some miraculous twist of fate, walking away not only with your freedom, but also compensation… or you fail, possibly suffering what would more than likely be a horrible and agonizing death. But, at the very least, you would die free. It was simple as that, and in all honesty—

You really appreciated simplicity, in the grand scheme of things.

You don’t really see a point in drawing the moment out any further than it already has, plucking the paper from his fingers with a resigned finality. A seagull’s raucous squawking carries over your heads yet again – you deliberately ignore the uneasy stirring in your gut, as the memory of a certain somebody’s voice swims at the forefront of your mind. The frantic beating of wings fleeing toward the direction of land comes just before the distant, subdued murmur of thunder traveling through the atmosphere, as if following on some sort of theatrical cue.

The captain seems to have anticipated this turn of the weather as much as he did your decision, muttering something indistinct beneath his breath before piercing the anticipatory standstill that enveloped his crew with a short, practiced whistle. They sprang into action without a moment of delay.

An aggravated hiss escapes your lips as the man that has been attached to your shoulder this entire time forcibly ushers you towards the rolled up ladder that is used to board the ship, finally removing his damned meat hooks from your poor, aching collarbone. Yeah, that was definitely going to become a hideously gigantic bruise later. Lovely.

Though you probably weren’t even going to live long enough for it to be seen by anyone anyway, so you suppose it didn’t really matter all that much… you still felt like you were entitled to complaining, though.

You observed the crew with a detached form of curiosity, as they lowered a small rowboat into the water with a swift and synergetic efficiency. For some reason, it’s the thought of having to haul yourself all the way to that island that begins to chip at your apathetic façade, a troubled frown cracking through your stony features – if the sirens truly won’t kill you first, then the fatigue from rowing very well might. Gods, you didn’t even want to consider the return trip, on the off chance of your success.

A muted splash meets your ears precisely as the rope ladder is tossed over the boat’s railing, the sound of it knocking against the hull following in a rickety staccato as it unfurled. A heavy quiet settles over the ship once again, in anticipation for your next action.

Time for the moment of truth, it seems.

You turn your back to the uncomfortable weight of their expectant stares, shuffling forward to slowly clamber over the railing. It’s a miracle that you manage to not fling yourself backward, as you awkwardly fumble onto the other side. You take a moment to gather your bearings, hugging your body to the sturdiness of the carved wood as seawater sloshed beneath you; but unfortunately for you, time was of the essence, and the captain wasn’t too keen on his being wasted.

“…We don’t have all day, girl,” he snaps impatiently, that distinct, baritone voice easily cutting through the ambient noises of the sea. “That storm on the horizon will pass over this area by nightfall, and I don’t want to be here when it does. So I’d suggest you hop to it, if you don’t want to be left behind.”

By this point, you aren’t too shocked, as the list of potential causes for your failure appeared to be piling up at a laughably exponential rate. Nevertheless, you began your careful descent down the swaying ladder, committing each of their faces to your memory before you dipped below the railing, because for all you know—

ㅤ

…they just may be the last humans you will ever see.

ㅤ

Nearly an hour of rowing later… and three hours of daylight remaining.

ㅤ

“Stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking pirates—”

Exhale, and push.

“—and their stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking—”

Exhale…

“—greed.”

…and push.

You drop your oars with an exhausted groan, allowing yourself a brief respite from your rage-fueled rowing to just drift with the flow of the ocean’s current, while indulging in its rejuvenating spray. The muscles in your entire upper half felt as if they were on the brink of tearing open, and your ragged breathing indicated your lungs weren’t exactly faring any better. At least you’re finally getting the exercise, your grandmother would probably be griping right about now. Of course, even in death, that woman remained an unshakable hindrance to your peace of mind.

“Consequences this, consequences that – should’ve followed your own advice, old hag. Might’ve lived a little longer if you laid off that damn pipe,” you mutter, slouching forward as you dig for the map you kept tucked in your bodice. Unrolling it over your thigh, you examined the paper carefully.

It only took a quick glance upward to affirm that you were undoubtedly heading in the right direction, as you were steadily nearing the same rock formations the captain had indicated; the weathered skeleton of a marooned ship was cradled between their jagged edges – as if they were a massive creature’s maw bursting from the sea. It felt like fitting symbolism for the island in its entirety, buds of unease blooming in your chest at the unnerving sight. You could only imagine how many more ships were beneath you, an unseen graveyard littering the ocean floor.

You wondered if it would become your resting place, too.

Shaking such distractions from your mind, you stuff the map back into your bodice and resume rowing, grunting with every other forward and backward motion – your destination wasn’t much further now. It’s the most effort that you’ve had to exert by far, wrestling against the choppy tide that seemed to form in the outer perimeter of the island. You would’ve been worried about the very legitimate chance of blacking out from exhaustion, were you not so preoccupied with steering yourself towards a rocky outcropping that sat a safe distance from the sheer cliff wall, away from the large waves that crashed against it with a force that would pulverize your tiny vessel – and you with it.

Far be it from you to tell a lousy pirate how to do his lousy job, but it might’ve been a helpful detail to have been made aware of. Perhaps he hadn’t even expected you to make it beyond this point, the bastard. You will live to see the end of this day, if only to make him eat his words. Fates be damned, you will live.

It was coming up on you fast, now. The oars didn’t seem to serve much of purpose anymore – seeing as the surging riptide was now hurtling you directly toward the rock – so you threw them to your feet, anchoring yourself with a white knuckled grip on the lip of the boat. All you could do was hold on, and brace for impact.

The nose of the boat slammed into the rock with a force that rattled your brain against your skull, nearly knocking your handhold loose and flinging you from your seat. Despite your disorientation, you quickly scramble out before the raging tidewater can suck you back into the fray; you drag it onto the highest point of the rock with you, just for good measure – it wouldn’t be possible to get back without it, after all.

Thankfully, this spot seems elevated enough that it can probably be safely left unattended, but still – you’re skeptical of taking any chances with the elements. With nothing to anchor or tie it down, you can only hope it will suffice in keeping it from being swept away, leaving you a prisoner of this place.

You turn to regard the water’s churning surface with trepidation – today’s next test of your limits, and the one that you had been dreading the most. But you couldn’t afford to waste daylight worrying about whether or not your life truly was moments from meeting its end, or about how slow and horrific the feeling of drowning would likely be, so you decide to stop thinking and just act.

You breathe in and out in to prepare your lungs for what is to come, sparing the heavens one last glance – asking not for protection, but willing yourself to be witnessed by every cruel, divine force that has lead you to this moment – before crossing your arms over your chest and leaping into the water feet first.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say.

Naturally, the sensation that hits you first is the sheer cold, which swallows you up entirely as you sink and sink. Next is the shock upon your nervous system, briefly causing your limbs to seize up, but you manage to shake free from it almost as quickly as it grabbed ahold of you, opening your eyes and scanning for the cave’s entrance – it felt like they were melting from the saltwater, but you endured.

You’re fortunate to spot it almost instantly, considering it must have been large enough to accommodate the width of three ships altogether; it was quite hard to miss. Although, if the threat of your lungs caving in on themselves weren’t an impending matter, you would have given yourself a moment to marvel at the breathtaking sight that was laid out before you, as you propel yourself toward the gaping opening.

Fringing reefs of pastel coral were interspersed with clusters of vibrantly pigmented anemones, and patches of seaweed flowing like verdant ribbons amongst various forms of small aquatic life litter just about every inch of visible space below you, an animated canvas of colors that put even the finest gardens or museums in your home capital to shame. Never once in your life have you considered the possibility of baring witness to such a natural beauty firsthand, something the average citizen could only find in paintings or storybooks. Not that you were glad your life led to this outcome, but maybe in better circumstances – your endlessly curious mind would have been bursting with wonder.

It seemed that the entrance you were swimming through was merely an antechamber to an even bigger cave, its shaded overhang making the clear shafts of light that were bleeding through the area ahead of you easy to navigate towards. The dwindling remains of your breath were escaping your nostrils in fat plumes as soon as you passed the second threshold, guiding you upwards to a glassy, semi-distorted surface – but most importantly, to air.

You might have considered it odd, for beams of direct sunlight to be appearing inside of this cave, which should have been a secluded pocket in the earth, and about a hundred feet or so beneath solid bedrock and the open sky. However, you were somewhat preoccupied with not drowning, steeling your lungs with the last ounce of adrenaline your body could muster as you clawed your way to the surface.

Your head whipped back in a violent arc the instant it broke through, a hungry gasp for oxygen falling from your gaping lips and traveling around you with a reverberating, prolonged echo – suggesting this chamber was indeed an immense one. You aren’t expecting to have to squint when you open your eyes, but lo and behold, there is a legitimate brightness penetrating your pupils when you do.

You weakly raised a hand to block the glare from your sensitive gaze, peering through the gaps in your fingers at the light’s source, from what you blearily discerned to be an opening in the cave’s high, dome-like ceiling. Overgrown flora hung almost artfully over its edge, dripping from dense condensation that had patches of lichen encompassing the wide perimeter of it in a large web. It was only then – as you floated on your back and waited for your racing heartbeat to stabilize, absently pondering just how just how nice it’d be to have wings of your own, to abscond through that hole and from your insignificant, humanly woes – that something in the fuzzy outskirts of your vision finally made itself known.

Resting within the heart of this hidden grotto was a ship, but not just any typical ship, being far too grand to be rightfully compared with anything you have previously laid eyes on before – it was a galleon. You’ve never been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one, considering they were primarily used by the military or for trade overseas, but you would often find yourself marveling at diagrams of them whenever you would visit the local library, finding them to be more fascinating than any of the regular vessels that would frequently dock at the port of your capital.

If this place weren’t already a testament to its own enormity, you would be puzzled by what you were seeing. The ship held an utterly imposing silhouette, with twice the amount of masts of a standard ship and an overabundance of gunports for cannon fire on each deck, which also was twice the amount of average. Yet despite its clear design for naval warfare, it also possessed a rather regal aesthetic, with a gold trim lining its edges in a subtle embellishment that coalesced into heavier accents at the stern. Even the sails were still somewhat rich with color, displaying crosses and maroon crests over an alabaster canvas. Other than the tip of its bow being mysteriously severed, the boat was in an immaculate state of preservation.

Well then… this alone was more than enough to solidify the captain’s claims, you suppose. Just the ship in of itself could be qualified as treasure, and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it had more stored inside – a lot more, you’d wager. Regardless of the staggering amount of wealth that just a fraction of this discovery could garner, you found yourself slightly more excited to see the history that it held; it had to have been from the early 16th century or so, judging by the information you gathered during your studies. Amazing yet peculiar, seeing as it appeared virtually untouched by the lengthy passage of over a hundred years.

Stranger even, that there weren’t many signs of rot on the wood. It looked as if it had been well maintained, apart from the encrusted layer of fossilized barnacles on its hull.

The extent of the ship’s size didn’t truly sink in until you directly approached its side, making you feel utterly miniscule as you hunted for a ladder or hanging anchor of some kind. You swam to the other side when your search came up short, dearly hoping that there’d be something, anything that could be considered remotely climbable. This would be the proof you needed that the universe well and truly had it out for you when the finish line was literally within reach, just a brief climb away. One could argue that fate wouldn’t possibly be so cruel, but you knew better – your grandmother’s proclivity to superstition made sure of that.

Your groan of frustration resonated deeply within the hollow chamber, skipping across the water’s placid surface and back into your own ears when the other side proved just as fruitful as the first. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering your luck, but it just seemed ridiculous for something as trivial as this to be what bests you after coming so far, after successfully “negotiating” with pirates, after wrestling with the fury of Poseidon in a measly little rowboat, and after avoiding drowning through the skin of your teeth.

No – you refused to accept it, refused to return to the captain empty-handed and with your tail between your legs. Not after vowing to yourself that you’d prove him wrong. So you continued on your path, circling back around to the boat’s starboard side.

Even with your bullheaded adamancy, you weren’t sure what you were anticipating, when you knew better than to actually expect anything new to be suddenly waiting for you – as if you somehow overlooked the one thing your eyes had been specifically scouring for – but you certainly hadn’t considered for just that to happen. Dangling over the gunwale almost innocently, like it had sheepishly slithered itself there only after your discontent had been vocally expressed, was a long length of thickly corded rope. Despite the cool rush of relief that washed over you, the hairs on your nape arose in a skeptical wariness. That couldn’t have been there before – you were certain you had scanned this side top to bottom… hadn’t you?

An odd, nagging feeling itched relentlessly at your insides as you grasped the rope with both hands, curling your fingertips into its coarse, malleable texture. Whatever the case for its sudden manifestation, you weren’t going to take it for granted – you couldn’t afford to.

Fortifying yourself with the promise of your struggles being generously rewarded soon, you planted the soles of your feet onto the damp wood, and you began to climb. You could practically hear the muscles in your arms begging for mercy with each shaky advancement upward, the weariness of one perilous event after the other finally beginning to settle in your bones. But you were so close, and you’d be damned if fatigue attempted to get in the way of that now.

You knew it may become an issue later, but you were somewhat gratified for being soaked to your core, if only to sooth the burning beneath your flesh, to give you the extra modicum of strength that you needed to push yourself over the railing. You tumbled onto the deck like a sack of potatoes, a faint wheeze expelled from your lungs as you rolled onto your side.

If not for the roughness of the wood rubbing against your cheek, rooting you to reality, it almost would not have been believable that you finally had made it. You were so grateful to be on a stable surface again that you could’ve kissed the deck without a hint of shame, but all you were capable of in that moment was lying still, cradling your sore arms to your chest as you caught your breath.

Dense with a mixture of earthy aromas, oxygen-rich air revitalized you with every inhale – the featherlight weight of it over your skin felt almost healing to the touch. Filtering the ambient sounds of nature that trickled through the opening above you was a lulling hush, a soothing blanket of stillness that laid over the cave’s atmosphere. For all the fear the captain had woven into your expectations of this place, you’d think you stumbled upon Shangri-La… but a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to know better, to remember every evidence of danger your own eyes had seen on the way here.

Yet regardless of how safe you currently are, if it were up to you, you would curl up exactly where you were and stay there until your body truly deemed it necessary to move. But you weren’t allowed such a luxury with the limited daylight that you had remaining, so you allowed yourself a minute more of peace before mustering the will to push yourself upright.

You had figured that you were prepared to encounter the sight that greeted you, considering you were made abundantly aware of the innumerable amount of lives that were sacrificed over this very ship, but the first time anyone sees a real corpse is bound to be more harrowing than they could ever expect.

…perhaps you spoke too soon regarding safety.

Randomly scattered across the ship’s deck was about a half a dozen bodies, all in what seemed to be the final stage of decay. For some reason, you never took into consideration that they would still be wearing the clothing that they had drawn their last breaths in, presuming from all the depictions of naked skeletons you have seen that it all somehow just… withered away along with their flesh. Obviously, you were enlightened of the absurdity of that assumption now.

The skeleton closest to you was equipped in a manner which one wouldn’t typically see where you were from, comprised of loosely sewn animal skins and metal adornments deeply inscribed with runic symbols, implying they from somewhere Nordic, and presumably male. He was laying on his back with his right hand resting over his chest; you thought that he looked a bit serene, in a macabre sort of way.

The next body was draped halfway over the portside railing, donning a large frock coat and leather trousers, suggesting they were male as well. The evidence of his death was plain to see with a vertical hole on the left side of his upper back – a fatal blow that likely had been aimed for his heart. It looked as if he were attempting to climb overboard, you surmised curiously. Clearly, he had been denied of that chance.

Nearly every skeleton that you examined appeared to share two things in common: they were male – at least judging by their stature and attire – and they had the same, singular hole either over their chests or their backs, with roughly the same positioning. Yet there was no evidence of any weapons remaining.

There seemed to be one exception, however, and it was located the furthest from the others, lying adjacent to the steps that lead to the back of the ship, toward the captain’s quarters that sat above the stern.

The first thing you noticed was what they were wearing closely resembled your own clothing, with a corseted bodice that sat over a short-sleeved, cream-colored chemise – a distinctly feminine choice of attire – and a loose fitting pair of breeches that were tied at the knee. Unlike the others, there was not a single sign to indicate how they, or she, had died – only that her body was arranged in a relaxed manner that implied she had passed calmly.

The second thing to capture your attention was something peeking through the cradle of one of her boney palms, a tiny beacon of color amidst a slathering of dull, melancholy hues. You were loath to lay your hands upon the dead, considering it more rude than distasteful, but alas – your intrigue was a stubborn thing that could hardly ever be thwarted.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you muttered, gingerly kneeling beside her. It was a strange and humbling feeling, holding the hand of a person who has long since departed from this world, and one you couldn’t fathom to describe as you pried her stiff grasp open. You handled her as if she were porcelain, fearing that she would crumble to pieces lest you applied even the tiniest bit of force. With meticulous care, you reached through her fingers, and slowly pulled the object free.

Your initial expectation was some form of garnet or ruby enameled jewelry due to the alluringly stark shade of red being what caught your eye, but it was revealed to only be a feather. Only was not implying you were at all disillusioned, when its vividness seemed to rival that of blood, a color you had always secretly favored. You struggled to think of a bird that would fit such a purely sanguine coloration – the closest coming to mind being either a cardinal or some variation of parrot – but neither were a species that fit a plume of this scale, at least not to your knowledge. You considered yourself pretty well read, but not to that capacity.

It felt like there was something very important that you were forgetting to consider, a key factor to your entire reason for being here, but it was overshadowed by the sensory overload you’d been riding on ever since you breached this cave.

That lingering uncertainty remained in the background of your psyche, eclipsed by your incessant curiosity as you notice something lightly scratched into the wood where her hand had been lying.

“Eram quod es, eris quod sum,” you whispered aloud, before pursing your lips in concentrated thought. You were certain that it was Latin, recognizing a few words from your studies, but you weren’t anywhere near fluent. You figured that you might be able to get an idea of the phrase if you attempted to sound it out from what you knew.

“We are— no, that’s not right…” You’ve seen some of these words before, if only you could just remember. “I… I was what—”

“I was what you are; you will be what I am.”

The feather fell from your grasp, seesawing through the air in a peaceful descent that directly contrasted the meteoric plummeting in your gut. Oh, you had thought dazedly, as your gaze crawled a path up the ship’s main mast, toward the source of the smooth voice that interrupted you.

…that was what you were forgetting.

Perched on the wooden beam that the uppermost sail was tethered to, was what you dumbly presumed to be a siren. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air, granting no audible warning of their arrival. Most notably of all – other than that you now knew what manner of wings that feather belonged to, hanging in excess off their back like a crimson cape – was that the one who had found you was not a female.

So much for there being no such thing… stupid, useless fucking pirates. It was settled, then – the universe operated solely to spite you.

“A tad morbid for my tastes, but it certainly is… thought provoking, I suppose.”

Despite your better consideration to make for the ships railing like a bat out of hell, you remained rooted in place, squinting through the waning beams of sunlight at the siren’s statuesque silhouette for a glimpse of his face. It almost seemed deliberate, how the glare bled wholly onto his features from your angle.

“Well done, by the way,” he drawled, embodying the epitome of nonchalance with how he lazily leaned against the crow’s nest, arms loosely crossed and wings dangling limply. He certainly didn’t appear at all threatened by your presence here. “You almost figured it out. Fancy yourself an aspiring linguist?”

“I… read a lot,” you responded vaguely, glancing at the railing that sat at least six strides from where you stood. Should you even dare to attempt in making a run for it? Your gaze darted to the corpse that was hanging over the portside railing a few meters away, and immediately dismissed that notion. If even an able-bodied man could not make it, which you assumed now of whom he had been fleeing from, then what chance did you have?

A contemplative hum from overhead reminded you where your attention would likely be wise to stay, considering this siren could evidently move without detection. You surrendered every shred of your attention to him as he stepped off his makeshift perch, watching like petrified prey as he plummeted towards you. Just as you wondered if he intended to crush you underfoot those expansive wings unfurled, flapping once to soften his landing, whipping you with a powerful gust of air.

You briefly wondered if this was what field mice felt like when barn owls swooped down upon them. How ironic, considering you used to watch indifferently as they were carried away, squeaking helplessly while you lounged behind your grandmother’s cottage, idly marveling at the harsh wonders of nature before burying your nose back into whatever book you’d been consumed by that evening.

There was a heavy moment of silence while you studied each other, after he straightened himself as those large primary feathers swept against the floorboards, wings tucking comfortably against his back. You probably did resemble cornered prey, with the way you mirrored his leisurely approach step for step, fixing him with a doe-eyed stare when your back collided with the handrail’s post sitting at the base of the stairs.

Despite your fear, you would be blatantly lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge the magnitude of his beauty. Had you not known better, you’d think you were gazing upon a renaissance sculpture made flesh – his features so carved and without flaw; the only plausible explanation was that they had been crafted that way, by a profoundly loving and meticulous hand. Even the smoothness of his skin resembled that of marble, the sole difference being its dewy, sun-kissed shade.

What would be the most unremarkable of characteristics, details you wouldn’t normally look twice at on an ordinary person seemed to demand your full examination; like the light wisps of hair accenting his sharp chin, or the unruly brows that sat over a strikingly yellow pair of eyes. They certainly contributed to the danger he exuded, especially with the pointed black markings that extended from his tear ducts in an almost catlike fashion.

His hair only magnified his sunbathed allure, shining like a sandy beach during midday and swept from his face in a feathered wave, save for a few stubborn pieces dusting across his forehead. You’d think he recently went for a swim with the way his bare torso gleamed with moisture, but the baggy harem-style pants hanging low on those trim hips were loose with aridity.

It felt like a gentle tugging on your subconscious, a coaxing balm on the buzzing nerves that kept you hyperaware, and that was precisely why you didn’t trust any of it – the glamour that surrounded him.

He met your thorough examination with equal – if not fiercer – intensity, dragging that arcane stare over the entirety of you with a patient, thinly concealed appreciation. Those unnervingly keen eyes spared you another brazen onceover, before finally meeting yours through a slow blink, tilting his head in an avian fashion.

“So, how’d a mousy little scholar wind up here?” His lips stretched into a feline smile, revealing dangerously elongated canines to match. Fantastic – as if the huge wings and clawed fingertips weren’t sufficient warnings for you to behave. Now you’d have to worry about him getting close enough to make a meal out of your jugular. “Get tired of living vicariously through your books, did you?”

“Tell me…” He abruptly leaned forward, which had you almost folding yourself backward over the handrail to spare at least a modicum of personal space, finding the delicate caress of his balmy breath over your mouth far too intimate for your liking. “Did I meet your expectations?”

Well, this certainly wasn’t how you imagined for this scenario to go.

“…I didn’t have many to begin with,” you answered slowly, breaking from the hold of his invasive gaze to gather your courage to speak. “I didn’t even know your kind existed before today – it wasn’t my idea to come here.”

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue through a sardonic huff, solving the mystery of you in all but an instant. You released a breath you hadn’t been aware of withholding when he swayed backward, releasing the invisible chokehold of his close proximity. “Pirates got ahold of you, eh? Pity.” Even with the barefaced sarcasm, there was an undertone of sympathy in his voice; the kind one would have when seeing a pretty butterfly snared in a spider’s web. A sympathy that is only derived from disappointment, at nature’s cruelty toward lovely, weak things.

You warily glance at him again, before sighing shortly, "Yes… but there's no one to blame for that but myself. I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and now here I am, paying the consequences.”

He tutted softly, like you were a child who did not know any better.

“Silly human, don’t you know what they say about cats and curiosity? Let me guess,” he hummed, throwing those sinewy arms over the handrail opposite of you, reclining his head back as he tapped rhythmically at the wood with his fingers, which you’ve only just noticed were riddled with a variety of sparkling rings. You tried your utmost to not stare at the way the action emphasized his pectorals, but it was as if those damned things had their own gravitational pull. “These consequences involved being sent here to retrieve a certain… something. The same something they came here for. Am I getting warm?”

Your eyes didn’t need to follow the direction he nodded at to know whom he had been indicating, but you humored him anyhow. A numbing sense of resignation suddenly settled within you, at the likelihood of this being a test to whether or not you kept your life. You may not have much of a fighting chance, but at the very least, you’d spare your dignity by retaining what little composure you had left.

“…And if you are? Would you kill me too?”

"Hm… it depends.” He squinted down the length of that aristocratic nose at you, halting the tick, tick, ticking of his talons to stroke his chin in a show of contemplation. "How badly do you want what they died for? Would you really be willing to risk your life for someone else’s greed? For material wealth? Or would it be to save your own skin?"

Your expression clouded over as your gaze sank to the floor, brows knitted and mouth tight-lipped. This was it, then. “All I want is… is to be free. To experience a simple life with simple pleasures, but to have life that is worth living. If I can’t have that,” you paused, glancing at the skeleton of the woman who now seemed like an eerie reflection of you, “then I would rather die for myself, at least. That might not have been enough for them, but it is for me.”

The condescending guise he had been wearing shifted into something unreadable, his raised hand dropping to his side. There was something jarring and distinctly inhuman about how quickly he could switch from charming to calculating, as well as his unwavering scrutiny that felt akin to being dissected. Before you could clear the lump of discomfort caught in your throat, a toothy grin had already wormed its way onto his face once again, as if that initial look of deliberation was only a trick of your mind.

“You’re an interesting one. That makes you lucky, because I like interesting things.”

You blinked owlishly at him, unsure how to respond. That was unexpected. Personally, luck would be the last term you would use to describe your predicament, but you took it that meant he wouldn’t be killing you… for now. Even if there was a decent aspect of truth to it, you were kind of exaggerating that last part. Gods only know how fickle minded sirens may be, and you weren’t willing to test that theory now – or ever.

“Tell you what…” He pushed off the handrail with the arm that was still draped across it, sauntering towards you with playful purpose. “Since I’m feeling rather giving today, you can take whatever you want off this boat – if you grant me a moment of your time. It’s been so very long since I’ve had decent company, you know?”

You were curious as to why he wouldn't just seek solace in his own kind, but you decided to not comment on it. You’d rather not risk him revoking his charity by prodding at what might be an unsavory subject. Perhaps sirens just weren’t the type to mingle amongst themselves, or weren’t typically ones for idle interaction and you had merely encountered the odd one of the bunch.

“I… guess that is fair,” you acquiesce, casting a swift glance at the hole in the cave’s ceiling when the sound of faraway thunder fell through it. The hands of daylight seemed to be creeping upon its final hour as the approaching storm drew ever nearer, which meant you had very little time left before the captain and his crew would hoist their sails from this place. Hopefully he doesn’t drag this “moment” he’s asking of you out, because you need to leave soon, before the tides become too tumultuous – you’ve wasted far too much time already. “Just for a moment, then – it’s the least I can repay for your generosity.”

“My, how polite you are,” he said through a shrewd smirk, offering a beckoning hand to you. “It certainly is a refreshing change of pace from my usual guests.”

“…I can’t say I blame them too much – it is a bit frightening being confronted by what looks like a human fused with a vulture for the first time,” you confess bluntly, sliding your fingers onto his upturned palm hesitantly, taking care to not accidentally nick yourself on those lethal claws. Gods, his skin was somehow even softer than it looked. How he managed such a thing with what had to be a very… hands on lifestyle, you could only guess. A benefit of being anything but an ordinary human, maybe.

“A vulture?” He pouts, dragging a thumb over your knuckles to secure you within his grip, gently guiding you along as he begins ascending the stairs. “That’s a tad harsh – I would be a far prettier bird.”

You withheld the urge to snort, finding it amusing that a mythical creature the captain had all but declared of originating from the bowels of hell was offended by being compared to a species that didn’t fit its standards of beauty.

“A peacock, then?”

His laugh was a warm, dulcet sound, scarlet wings twitching with pleased mirth. It was undeniable – red truly had to be your favorite color, you thought before quickly averting your eyes, when he directed a sly look at you over his shoulder. You prayed that didn’t mean he caught on to your pestering desire to touch them, scratching relentlessly at the forefront of your mind. You were just curious, is all. Really. “That’s adequate, I suppose.”

The stairs didn’t seem to stretch that high up from its base, but a single glance backward confirmed otherwise when you both approached the final step. For the briefest moment, you permitted yourself to bask in the culmination of wonders this day has brought, as you surveyed the extent of this chamber, a scene that a mere iota – less than a handful even – of the human race has managed to witness. With rapt mystification, you pondered just how long it has been since a person has set eyes on this place, and lived to tell the tale.

If everything continued to progress in your favor, you just may become one of those very people.

“My name is Hawks, by the way. Well – that is what others address me as. You, however, may have the privilege of calling me Keigo, since the nature of our rendezvous will be so unfortunately brief.”

You cast an inquisitive look at him, puzzled behind his reasoning for having multiple names. Was it simply a cultural thing amongst his race, to have titles for differing people and reasons? You supposed it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, considering humans practiced similar customs with nicknames and such.

“Why do they call you Hawks, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keigo pulled you from your rooted position with minimal effort, hardly needing to expend an ounce of exertion to tug your mass forward and with him towards the large doors barring entry to the captain’s quarters, which shared gold accents similar to the ones adorning the ship’s outer body. He clearly was not partial to wasting time; it aided your wishes to speed things along, though, so you weren’t exactly complaining.

"Your curiosity certainly knows no bounds. Though I suppose I have no room to spout such things, being the meddlesome nuisance that I am.” You can hear the smile in his voice even as he steps in front of you, a cheeky inflection you have easily begun to identify whenever those wicked lips quirk upwards, which you’ve already discerned to be quite a frequent trait.

“But as for that name, it’s something of a… informal title, is all.” He quips rather ambiguously, tossing another pointed glance your way before ripping the doors open with excessive flourish. You realize his dramatics were entirely warranted, once you feast your eyes upon the cabin’s contents.

Its interior could only be regarded as baroquely rustic, a climactic coalescence of all the extravagance you have beheld from this ship, from this day by far. The first thing anyone would likely notice upon entering were the tall lancet-style windows facing the entrance on the furthest wall, which provided a view of a portion of the cave through stained mosaic panes, showering the floor in front of them in kaleidoscopic beams of light. They felt reminiscent of the cathedral windows back home, being significantly smaller but similarly Victorian in design. Partially curtaining them were velvet drapes, grandly sized and filigreed with golden lacework. Glimmering under the waning rays was a copper telescope, standing tall enough to peer through at eye level – too bad it was essentially useless within the cave itself.

Hanging within the center of the room was a beautifully ornate chandelier, sitting over a large rug that was designed identically to the drapes, which also had an arrangement of plush blankets and pillows on top of it. A few stray feathers were interspersed with the almost nest like arrangement, indicating it was likely where Keigo slept. A peculiar choice, considering you spotted a king sized bed snugly slotted within an alcove adjacent to the windows, covered in a blanket of dust.

Whoever designed this ship had either a borderline obsessive appreciation for any and everything gold, or they simply wanted to display their wealth as brazenly as they could without crossing into the land of gaudy. Although in your opinion, the solid gold chain attached to the ceiling’s primary support beam, connecting to an equally gilded cage that dangled a few paces from a row of overflowing bookcases was officially a little excessive – there was even what looked to be the skeleton of a bird inside of it… poor thing clearly starved to death.

You didn’t even realize you had drifted further into the cabin, mindlessly brushing your fingers over a meridian globe that sat upon a massive antique desk of solid mahogany, until the sound of the doors shutting snapped you out of your trance.

Keigo chuckled at your spooked expression, as if you had legitimately forgotten where you were, whom you were with in that moment. For a second there, you almost did, which invoked a pang of disappointment in your chest for being denied the time to truly savor such a once in a lifetime experience. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be left behind, trapped here for the rest of your days, but you only wished that you could explore every secret this ship has to offer before leaving…

“Believe me, this is nothing. The deck beneath us is filled to the brim with gold and all sorts of priceless artifacts, as is the one beneath it – it’s honestly a mystery to me how this ship can even stay afloat,” he drones in a blasé tone, as if being exposed to such obscene opulence for so long has worn its novelty to him.

You certainly did not share his indifference, sweeping the room with wide eyes a second time before breathing in a dazed whisper, “Who on earth owned this ship? All of these things?”

“Didn’t you notice, silly girl?” For what felt like the umpteenth time today he is laughing at your expense, lazily gesturing above your head. “He’s right next to you.”

Your head whipped to your right, and indeed, you had somehow missed an oil painting that was affixed to the wall next to you. It depicted a man nobly reclined in a throne-like chair, bequeathed in a heavily embellished waistcoat of dark maroon, silk breeches that appeared far better tailored than your own, and a charcoal tri-cornered hat with a snowy-white feather fashioned to one of its brims. Other than a deep slash obscuring his visage, the most notable feature of the canvas was the human skull resting in one of his ring-adorned hands, which had a crown encrusted with diamonds and rubies sitting upon its cranium. Despite his inexplicably marred expression and identity, the air of power he seemed to ooze was not at all mitigated.

“I used to think I wasn’t one for jewelry,” Keigo suddenly spoke from your side, prompting your gaze to return to him. He was staring at the painting vacantly whilst fiddling with his rings, which you noticed to be curiously similar to the mysterious captain of this ship, although you couldn’t truly tell with how muddled from age it has become. “My kind likes to adorn themselves in bones, you see – too barbaric for my tastes.”

He reached across the desk for something that was hidden from your angle by the large globe, an impish smile slowly creeping over his face from your small, fascinated gasp when his hand returned with the very same skull in tow, crown and all. Keigo plucked the bejeweled headpiece from its dome, carelessly tossing the head back onto the desk and gingerly placed it upon his own. It sagged to the side almost immediately, evidently a little too big for his own skull, but it only felt fitting with his frivolous demeanor. Simpering, he preened beneath your attention, “But then I discovered human trinkets were far more fun to play with. Suits me rather nicely, don’t you think?”

You knew better than to feed into his ego, but you genuinely couldn’t help the faintly amused quirking of your lips, nor the dry response that fell from them. “You look like the type of king who would sit around all day, drinking himself stupid on wine while his society falls to ruin.”

He removed the crown, scoffing, “Already have me all figured out, do you? On the contrary, I wager I could lead a society into prosperity if I had the motivation.”

“I think anyone could achieve whatever they wanted with the right motivation,” you shot back, nearly reeling backward when he suddenly reached toward you.

“Touché,” Keigo purred, plopping the crown on your head before you could reflexively swat his hand away. For whatever reason you decided to play along, sighing in amused defeat as it drooped partially on your skull as well. Whomever this thing was fitted for must’ve had the genes of an ogre if it didn’t fit even on your head. Your grandmother had always said all that reading made your head too big.

“On second thought, I think it looks better on you.” He grinned devilishly, and now it was your turn to scoff. He wasn’t behaving abhorrently at least, but he would have to try a lot harder in order to distract you if that was his goal.

“Also, speaking of wine…” Pivoting on his heels, Keigo marched toward the middle of the room, where his makeshift nest was. Squinting in suspicion, it must’ve felt like you were burning holes into his back as he kneeled onto the blankets, wings stretched slightly to block his ministrations. The telltale sound of a cork popping followed by pouring indicated he really was going there, the shameless bird – of course he kept a bottle of wine where he slept. You already had an excuse loaded on the tip of your tongue when he rocked back to his feet and swiveled back toward you, smirking like a cat that ate the canary as he moseyed back to your side with a rather weighty looking goblet in hand.

“I know there’s another cup sitting around here somewhere… but I don’t feel like digging around for it right now, so you can use this one. It’s my favorite, by the way,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if sharing a long withheld secret, "so feel honored.”

You didn’t accept the drink right away, simply staring at it as he held it before you. He wasn’t actually being serious, was he? Did you look like the type of person that would throw caution to the wind, making yourself tipsy on a time sensitive… quest? Whatever the hell you could call this thing the captain sent you on?

“Aw, come on,” he cooed liltingly, waving it under your nose as if the scent alone would entice you into accepting. You suppose it did smell pretty good... “Don’t act like you don’t want to try it. This stuff is over a hundred years old – it’s way more valuable than the rubbish you came here for, in my opinion.”

“That’s…” You wrinkle your nose to deter the seductive aroma from swaying you, searching for ways to not outright decline him in order to remain in his good graces, “—kind of you to offer, but I probably shouldn’t.”

The saccharine smile he wore did not budge, but his voice was beginning to adopt the tiniest undertone of annoyance. “It wouldn’t be a crime to enjoy yourself, you know. Just give it a try – I know you’ll like it.”

You sighed, “I just— I don’t know. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it just doesn’t sound like a good idea right now, is all.”

Keigo deflated, exhaling dramatically and topaz eyes downcast, shadowed by the curtains that were his tawny lashes. “Oh, alright... I suppose you can be on your way then if you’re already done here, and I can keep all of this treasure to myself, as usual…”

The urge to roll your eyes was gargantuan. Really? Was he legitimately guilt tripping you now? Could this be considered blackmail? And to think – you were shivering in your boots from his presence not even ten minutes ago.

“For the love of— fine,” you hiss, swiping the goblet from his hand. Some of it splashed onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind if the victorious twinkle in his eyes was anything to go by. “I’ll have a few sips, and that’s it.” And then you were leaving.

He beamed, lifting his hand to his face. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

You huffed into the lip of the cup, slowly tipping a sample of its contents into your mouth – yeah, I better not. You’d be sure to haunt him for the rest of his days if your heart gave out on the way back to the other ship.

Keigo hummed while languidly licking the crimson droplets that beaded off his fingers, pink tongue curling around the slender digits as he watched you drink, providing a teasing glimpse of those spear-like fangs. “Mm, isn’t it delicious?”

Awkwardly averting your eyes, you tried to focus on the wine’s taste instead, savoring the layered flavors of rose petals, cherries, and the lingering aftertaste of something even sweeter that you couldn’t quite identify, before gulping the liquid down your suddenly dried throat. You daintily smacked your lips, blinking in shock at how right he was; his smug chuckle implied he was aware of just that.

“This is kind of good, actually,” you admitted begrudgingly, frowning at him despite your agreeance as you went for another sip. He didn’t have to rub it in, at least.

“Just kind of?” he goaded, features haughty and intermingled with amusement. "Well, I have about a thousand more bottles you can try from since this one apparently isn't up to your standards."

You pressed your unoccupied hand to your mouth to keep from spraying your wine, swallowing through a small cough. Did you hear that correctly? A thousand bottles? On top of two decks that were literally overflowing with gold? It really was a mystery how this ship stayed afloat. “I think this one is sufficient, thank you.” You’d prefer to not drink yourself to death just yet, even with the day you’ve had thus far.

Toying with the goblet in your grasp, you raised it further to your face after noticing grooves beneath your fingertips. Now you could see why it was his favorite, with the gorgeously detailed engraving of a disembodied skull wrapped in a thorny bed of roses, its yawning jaw filled with a nest of songbirds. Above it was the bolded words Memento Mori – yet another Latin phrase.

“Do you know what that says, little scholar?” Keigo’s lowered voice brushed against your ear, invoking a startled little jolt from you. Fuck’s sake, he clearly had a thing for sneaking up on people, didn’t he? Must be a siren thing, you inwardly grumbled, leaning away from him and his cloying, heated breath. If he did that one more time, you were going to lecture him about the importance of boundaries.

“Pft, of course I do. That phrase is easy,” you said with a snooty upturn of your nose, irritated by how patronizing he sounds when he calls you that. “It means remember death, or remember you must die, to be specific.”

“Latin,” he intoned drily, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the desk with his hip, “pretty, but always so gloomy. The Greeks really needed to liven up a little."

“I think they were rather brilliant,” you muttered into your cup, irked by his easy dismissal of one of the most influential societies the world has ever known. “Their history especially.”

Keigo snorted, arms folding as he regarded you through a lidded stare, evidently not surprised by your opinion, “Naturally. Their language is ancient, and the root of many others. You humans love to dwell in the past.”

Raising one brow, you replied tartly, “Is that so bad, when the present can be so disappointing?”

“Oh? Do I disappoint you?”

You were very tempted to say yes – if only to knock his narcissistic ass down a peg – but that would probably only invite his pestering further, so you deigned to take another drink instead of answering. He undoubtedly already knew what your reply would’ve truly been, gauging by that unnervingly knowing look. Such cunning eyes he had, constantly looking as if they were peeling back the skin-deep layers of your outer persona, and delving into the truth of your heart.

"Anyhow,” he sang, pushing himself from the desk and strutting toward the wall of bookshelves, which were practically spilling over with books despite stretching all the way up to the ceiling and the conjoining walls. You trailed after him, unable to resist being drawn to such a plethora of untapped resources. He withdrew a book that must have been white once, but now was yellowed with age; peeking at the cover, you noticed with discreet interest that it was titled Les Amours. “I myself am quite fond of French. They certainly knew how to appreciate life's pleasures.”

“However…” Yet again, he is leaning into you, fanning that heady warmth over the curve of your cheek, yet this time something within you commands you to be still as a statue as he imprinted the following words onto your skin:

“Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.”

It felt as if he exhaled sparks over your flesh, prompting the miniscule hair follicles they danced over to readily stand at attention. The velvety enunciation that he articulated in felt more than just practiced – it was utterly refined; almost like it were his native tongue.

For some reason you felt parched anew, as a steadily rising heat brewed in your lungs and esophagus, but only a few measly drops fell onto your tongue when you quickly tipped the goblet to your mouth to appease it. How odd – you could have sworn you hadn’t partaken in more than a few sips until now. Something in the furthermost part of your mind was instantly pleading for more – more of that ambrosial sweetness that dwelled after each taste – but you shunned it in favor of remaining present in the conversation. Failing to clear the smoldering coals lodged in your throat, your voice was hoarse as you tentatively questioned him, “What—what does that mean?"

Keigo’s mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile as that electric gaze sank to your lips, trailing static all over their tingling surface, leaving you chilled without its tangible weight when it shifted elsewhere nearly as fast as it came. “Wouldn't you like to you know,” he lilted, snapping the book shut and nudging it back into its original placement by the tip of his claw.

“Well, yes,” you said vexingly, stamping down the anxious urge to gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling strangely fixated on the elegant lines of his tendons and knuckles. Why did your nerves feel so… charged all of a sudden? “It’s why I asked.”

He laughs whilst idly thumbing across the spine of a leather-bound tome, side eyeing you before playfully sighing, “Fine, it means—”

A loud ringing suddenly filled your ears, drowning out his following words. Dizzying vertigo swiftly followed as a rose-colored fuzziness bled into the edges of your vision. You grabbed onto a shelf as subtly as you could manage as alarm – and dare you say the undercurrents of want – surged through your veins. Is this due to the wine? But… you’ve never had a reaction like this before. Was it an allergic response to an ingredient, or something? Has it gone bad? Can wine even go bad?

“Sorry I…” You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, resisting the desire to fan yourself. You were beginning to feel hot, so very, very hot. “Could you repeat that?”

“Is something wrong?” Keigo questioned lightly, although you didn’t miss the mysterious gleam in his eyes, a probing scrutiny similar to when he had interrogated you upon your meeting. For some reason, the image of your grandmother’s face flickered in your mind’s eye, of the cryptic warnings that often fell from her wrinkled, downturned lips. Something was wrong, and you were quickly suspecting it wasn’t because of the wine; these symptoms could not be normal.

Perhaps your grandmother conditioned you into a hopeless cynic just like her, but her chosen phrase when it rains it pours almost never proved itself wrong; you always found yourself regretful in the aftermath of disregarding the signs, only when it was too little, too late.

“You look… unwell. Too much to drink?”

It’s time to leave, you abruptly decided. You no longer felt safe here; the idyllic, fantasy-like atmosphere warping into the mouth of a Venus flytrap, its gaping mouth poised to close upon you at any moment, at any sign of struggle. You should have just dove back into the water the moment you were greeted with a damned congregation of corpses earlier. Even the scrawled message beneath that woman’s hand… the signs were there from the very beginning.

Dying for the sake of freedom be damned, you should have just acknowledged your capabilities and taken your chances with the pirates – and that was what you were going to do.

“N-No, you— um…” Slowly backing away, you staggered slightly whilst cautiously retreating toward the exit, the crown falling from your head and landing on the floor with a noisy clatter, causing your internal panic to flare – you had completely forgotten you were even wearing it. Keigo did not follow, staring you down coolly as he stalked to his nest instead, wings swishing over the mound of blankets. “You have been very hospitable, but I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Aw, already? What about the fun we were having? The treasure?” You knew it must have been deliberate with how silky and lyrical his voice sounded, as if he intended to tranquilize you into a state of pacification, as sirens were rumored to do. Unfortunately, it was working, seeing as it began to feel like you were wading through mud, your steps petering to a stop. It begs the question: why was it only working now? Wouldn’t you have been ensnared from the moment he first spoke to you?

“Was it something I said?” He pouted, bottom lip jutting dramatically. It felt like you were going to be sick, but not as sickeningly aroused as you were becoming; with every word he uttered, you could feel the slick collecting in the inseam of your pants, oozing all over your inner thighs at a terrifyingly rapid rate. He put something in your drink; it was the only logical conclusion for what was happening to you. Too fast – this was all happening too fast.

“No, I just—” You bit back a groan, nearly doubling over from the agonizing pressure that was white-knuckling your womb, “it’s just— it’s getting rather late, and I’m feeling… tired, so I think it would be wise to start heading back.” Fuck, it was nigh impossible to think or speak clearly, especially with him just a few steps away. You could smell it – the honeyed scent that wafted off him… it was just like that flavor that still clung to your taste buds. It was everywhere, enveloping you like a physical embrace, and seeping into your pores.

You wanted more, needed more; your aching body was insisting it would die without it, but you knew you absolutely must not listen.

“Back to those brutes?” Keigo tsked, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he shook that sandy head of hair; your fingers twitched, longing to gauge its softness. “I don’t get it. What is there to go back to? A life of misery, with no simple pleasures? What about your freedom, hm? I believe you said you’d rather die if you couldn’t have those things. Or was that all just… hot air?”

Gritting your teeth behind tightly pressed lips, it felt like your feet were anchored to the spot, your bones audibly creaking as though they were as you forced them to turn towards the doors.

“Goodbye, Keigo. It was… nice meeting you.” With all of the remaining resolve you could muster, you raised a trembling hand, reaching for the handle—

“Stop.”

You froze, as if the line delivering information from your brain to your limbs was severed. Your voice was hardly more than a delicate undertone, barely squeezing past your stiff lips and locked jaw, “I… beg your pardon?”

“I said stop,” he repeated shortly, that slightly enunciated utterance causing your arm flop to your side, dangling limply. “I didn’t give you permission to leave, did I?”

Despite the black, libidinous ichor pumping through your hammering heart, visceral anger lanced through it like a red-hot poker, giving you the strength to spit your ire clearly. You no longer cared whom or what he was – how dare he do this to you?

“You asked for a moment of my time, and that is precisely what I gave you,” you hissed airily, shaking like a leaf from head to toe. “So you can either deliver on what was promised and let me be on my damned way peacefully, or I—”

“Shut up.”

Your jaws slammed together like a steel trap, lips sealing instantly. His voice echoed almost ethereally, latching itself onto your subconscious and assuming control of you like a puppeteer. All you were capable of was blinking, swaying in place as you stared with bug-eyed terror at the doors a mere arm’s length away from you. Like a child, all you craved in this exact moment was the safety of your grandmother’s embrace, as fat tears quickly accumulated in your waterline. You were scared. You wanted to go home. You should have listened to her warnings sooner.

“There, that’s better,” Keigo sighed contentedly from behind you, as though your voice was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “I was beginning to think it would never kick in. Such a stubborn thing you are… but I must admit – I do so love a challenge.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, salty droplets spilled down your burning cheeks. This isn’t happening; it’s all a just dream. This isn’t happening. It’s all just a dream.

“Now then… turn around.”

Your body automatically complied, moving like a well-oiled machine under his silver-tongued instruction. You kept your eyes closed with the hanging thread of your free will, denying him the satisfaction of seeing the defeat in your gaze, although the trails of your tears likely conveyed that plainly enough.

He hummed lowly, a deeply gratified sound. The sick bastard was enjoying this – enjoying your torment – like it were a private show. There was an extended stretch of silence within the cabin, so stifling you that could hear your pulse pounding like war drums in your ears, until finally, he softly crooned, “Take off your clothes.”

When your fingers darted to the laces of your bodice, he swiftly added, “Slowly.”

You could feel the hungry crawl of his eyes following the garment’s unraveling, practically attached to the sluggish path your hands paved, slowing your movements with the weight of his stare alone. It strayed from where your digits traveled, dragging its heat over the curve of your bosom peeking from the plunging neckline of your chemise as you pulled the outer article off your torso. It dropped to the floor soundlessly, immediately forgotten as you obediently moved onward, like a marionette dancing to his tune. Neither of you noticed the scrap of paper that fell with it.

“That’s more like it,” he purred while the cream-colored undergarment was tugged over your head, relishing in the enticing reveal of your pebbled nipples and pert breasts, their shape accentuated by the lifting of your arms. Were you even aware of how precious you were? It practically radiated off you – your virginal innocence. And Keigo was itching to have his fill. “Mm… you were worth the wait.”

Unable to speak unless he commanded it, the best you could manage in reply was an agitated twitch of your eyebrows. The sound of his breathy chuckle had your hair standing on end, even as you dutifully toed off your boots before untying the knot in your waistband.

“Wait,” he ordered, before your breeches could join the rest of your clothes piled at your feet.

What, you thought amidst the cacophony of pining, mewling whispers. What else could you possibly want, you demon?

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Of course, he would thieve even that last scrap of your dignity, forcing you to look him in the eye as you debased yourself, as you bestowed him with a sight you had yet to grant any other man. You intended to save yourself, to wait until it truly felt right. It was only natural, you supposed, for this cruel world to chew you up and spit you out, with such naïve ideations. It was only natural, that it would repay you in kind most deplorably, for daring to ever dream at all.

Peeling your tear encrusted lashes apart, your watery gaze pinpointed him the second it was unveiled. Keigo was reclined in his nest in a manner that would befit a spoiled prince, ankles crossed casually and arms planted behind him. Those crimson wings were splayed wide; almost seeming to meld seamlessly with the blankets had they not been so lengthy they stretched beyond them, scimitar shaped feathers fanning out onto the floorboards. The black chevrons on the corners of his eyes somehow seemed even more pronounced in the twilight glow that washed over the room, enhancing the lambent intensity of his yellow irises – a petrifying stare more befitting of a basilisk.

Was he really what they call a siren… or a chimaera masquerading as one?

Regardless, it was in this moment you were adequately reminded of the powerful otherworldliness his kind possessed, and how wise one would be to not forget, as you so foolishly have.

“Good girl,” he praised through a husky timbre, eliciting the swelling voices in your mind to sigh out in bliss. More, more, they begged. “You’re doing so well. Continue.”

And so you did, staring him down as you rid yourself of the last protection of your decency. Your pants slid down your legs like satin over polished steel, crumpling to the floor in a small heap. Like a hollow vessel awaiting the directive of its master, you stood perfectly still as Keigo indulgently took you in.

“My my…” His eyes zeroed on the shining glaze smeared all over the apex of your thighs as a buzzard would a fresh corpse, pupils pinpricked predatorily. “Is that all for me? You coy little thing,” he smiled like a ravening jackal, protruding canines flashing in the dimming light as he wagged an index finger disapprovingly, “acting so put off to my company a moment ago, while hiding a treat like that. It’s naughty to not share, you know.”

You did not like the sound of that implication, but another part of you – a part that was quickly dousing the inferno of your lucidity – certainly did.

Rotating the pad of that finger towards the chandelier that hung above him, his black talon glinting like obsidian as he curled it at you two times, and declared firmly, “Come.”

With that single command, your vision dissolved into static, eyes rolling into the dark vacancy of your head as your legs buckled and collapsed beneath you. You barely had the forethought in using your hands to cushion your fall forward, narrowly preventing you from caving your nose in as you crumpled into a convulsing ball. The sound of your despaired moans peeled out throughout the cabin, much to Keigo’s surprise and delight, as your body was wracked with an earth-shattering, hands-free climax. The first of this scale that you’ve ever had.

"Oops," Keigo titters from his throne of blankets, not sounding remorseful in the absolute slightest while he watched you gasp and writhe. "Goodness, me and my clumsy mouth. I apologize, darling – should have been more specific. Come here, I mean.”

Your insides were still contracting – almost excruciatingly so – as you shakily prepared to upright yourself, but he promptly halted that with a few strict tuts, “Ah-ah, hold on... I think I prefer you like that, actually.”

“Hm, yes…” He hums approvingly, reveling in the sinful display of your degradation, hunched over like a cat in heat; the only thing you were missing was the coiled tail and flattened ears. Quite the lovely contrast to the irritable little brat from earlier, in his opinion. “It suits you. Crawl to me as you are.”

On quivering hands and knees, you crawled. What a sight you must have made, you dimly wondered, whilst the slavering hounds of your psyche yipped and whined the shorter the distance between the two of you became. Did you look as pathetic as you felt, broken and brought to heel with only a few words? Keigo certainly seemed to adore it, cocking his head and smirking like a man who had the world, your world, in the palm of his hand.

Although as of today, it no longer belonged to you.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your fingertips sank into the cushiony swathes of velvet he was lounged upon, restlessly rooting for purchase as you drew closer to his feet. Ever considerate, Keigo uncrossed his legs to provide you with an unobstructed path leading directly to his lap, angling them inward to press his knees against your sides as you passed beyond the threshold of them, the fabric of his pants dragging against your exposed flesh as you skulked onward. You seemed to slot together like puzzle pieces, as your torso melded with his lower half almost perfectly.

“That was rude – trying to scamper off like that earlier,” he admonished quietly, lifting a hand to pet your head with a tender fondness. He appeared to take extra care to not lacerate your scalp with his nails as his fingers delved into your hair, toying with your strands almost lovingly. What a conundrum he was, going from vainglorious and wicked to gentle and affectionate in a heartbeat, like an endlessly spiraling coin. “We were bonding, weren't we?”

I suppose, you might have conceded. Until you decided to prove every rumor about your kind was true.

“Everything would have gone smoothly if you weren’t such a tough nut to crack, you know? Lesser minds would have folded from a single word out of my mouth, and they have; they all do, eventually. One way or another—” His fingers burrowed deeper, affixing to your roots and tugging with a wince-inducing pressure. Back to wicked. “…they always cave.”

"But you... oh you,” he chuckled, dragging his hand down to deliver a couple of condescending pats to your cheek. “It seems that you're a special little nut; I've never had to resort to using my saliva." He sneered that word in a way that implied exerting such effort was considered to be beneath him, as though it were some form of cheating in this disturbed game he liked to play, upper lip stretching over his fangs in a contemptuous curl as his digits latched onto your jaw. You stared back at him through misty eyes, unable to even flinch as those knifelike claws began to puncture your skin.

“I may enjoy a challenge, but that was a new low for me. I'll admit, you had me worried for a moment – almost thought it wasn't going to work. Then we really would have had a predicament on our hands, hm?” He pinched your cheeks, smearing your blood as he smooshed them until your lips puckered, nodding your head in orchestrated agreement.

As if he’s suddenly grown bored of playing with you like a doll, Keigo released your face, sighing, “You can speak now, but behave.”

The invisible force keeping your tongue adhered to the roof of your mouth lifted, granting the muscle freedom to move once again. You had no choice words for the vile truths he had just divulged, opting instead to appeal to his sense of mercy – if he had any.

“Pl—Please…” you gulped a thick wad of drool, speech slurring as you looked up at him, hiccupping and sniffing pitiably, “let mm—me go… don’ care ‘bout the treasure any more… jus’ lemme go, please, Kei…”

"Aw, ‘Kei’? How sweet,” he cooed while lifting his unsoiled hand to dab the spittle from your wobbling bottom lip, wrapping his bloodied one around your throat like a loose collar, dragging a thumb over your beating pulse; it fluttered delicately beneath his touch, like a butterfly’s wings. “There's that well-mannered girl from when we first met, but I think we both know it's a little too late for that. It was too late for you the moment you surfaced in this cave – my cave."

So he had been watching you, from the very beginning. It made sense now – that rope which seemingly appeared from nowhere. It was Keigo, leading a trail of breadcrumbs right to himself. For a siren, he truly was rather lazy, when he likely could have snatched you from your rowboat before you even got close to shore.

“Ah… what’s that saying the French say?” Pondering aloud, he withdrew the hand around your throat to tap two fingers on his pursed lips, smudging them with your scarlet essence, before abruptly exclaiming, “Oh! C’est la vie. Everything happens for a reason, no? Such is life and all that…”

“That reminds me,” he says through a scheming smile, staining his tongue with your blood as it laved over his mouth, coating your flavor onto his taste buds. Truly, the nectar of an untouched maiden was unmatched… but he was willing to bet different nectar of yours would soon become his favorite snack yet. If only you knew of all the fun he had in store for you. “Do you want to know what I said earlier, while your pretty little head was filling with air, filling with me?”

Keigo didn’t offer you a chance to respond, snaking the hand that was cupping your face to the back of your head, pressing his fingers against the base of your cranium to anchor you in place as he inclined his own head forward to answer, “The only true language in the world is a kiss. Care for an example?”

“W-Wait,” you whispered, fearing what would come after more than the act itself. If just a little bit of his saliva mixed into your wine made you this useless, this receptive, then what would a dose straight from the source do to you?

“Behave,” he hissed into your parted mouth, snuffing the embers of your disparity before they could gain the fuel to take form. Not that your verbal resistance could even achieve anything, when your body was as pliant as clay beneath his masterful touch. All you could do was whimper as he fused his lips with yours, selfishly condemning you to fall further into a lustful misery with a pleased croon.

“Delicious…” His tone was a gravelly rumble, rolling over your saliva coated lips like a slow flowing magma, scorching them red with hot, bruising pecks. It quickly became insufficient, pulling just your swollen lips between his.

The impatient siren tugged you closer, growling softly as his slick muscle slithered into your panting maw, seeking out the shy appendage hiding behind your teeth. You never once considered that kissing could sound so… lewd, but then again, this couldn’t be rightfully labeled as such. It was like he was eating you alive, sucking on your tongue as though he wished to swallow it down. He was so unbelievably warm that you thought you were melting, unable to discern the rivulets of drool pooling down your chins from your own flesh and sweat, nor could you find where you ended and he begun.

Or perhaps it was just your brain that was melting, oozing out of your ears and down the back of your neck, rather than sweat. You weren’t sure you could even be considered a participant anymore (if you could be called one in the first place), merely attempting to remain conscious as Keigo had his wicked way with you. Even if you could think to breathe through your nose, it would’ve been an impossible feat through the cascade of his sweet, sweet saliva flowing down your gullet. Fractal shapes were dancing on the insides of your eyelids, imprinted everywhere you looked when you attempted to blink the veneer of pinkness from your vision.

What… what was your reason for being here, again? Something about treasure, and freedom… but you just couldn’t quite remember…

Keigo finally detached from you with an obscenely wet smack, breaking the webs of spit bridging the scant space between you two as he leaned back, grinning broadly at your glassy eyed state. He didn’t seem even slightly out of breath, whereas you were breathing like you had rowed the distance from the captain’s ship all over again. Wait – the captain… why did that sound so familiar?

“I would say that was just what I needed, but—” He peeled your damp body from his lap, dragging a path of fire down your sides with his palms until they settled on your hips, effortlessly lifting you into a splayed-out position on top of him as he sunk further onto his back, wings outspread entirely. If you had even a fraction of coherence left, you would have been mortified at how utterly exposed your sex was, dripping so profusely that it was starting to collect within the grooves of his abdominals. “…I'm still a little parched. Mind if I relieve myself between these lovely thighs?”

“Where… are we?” You questioned as though his words went through one ear and out the other, moreso at the foreign voices invading your thoughts rather than the famished creature who was hurriedly hoisting you over its face. Exactly where we need to be, they responded in a resounding chorus. Do not question it; do not fight it. Just be.

Keigo almost forgot to answer, his higher thinking briefly reduced to a crude, primal state of hunger, as he intimately beheld what might have been the most delectable cunt he has ever seen.

“…Heaven, darling.” He managed to utter once he scraped his cognitive function back together, gazing at the glistening apex of you like it held the meaning to his dreadfully prolonged existence. Wrapping the corded bands of his arms around your thighs, Keigo yearned to dig his fingers into the meat of your haunches, to embed you to him by the hooks of his claws. He feared he might never want to surface ever again, once he finally plunged his tongue into your sodden depths. Although that wasn’t such a terrible way to go, suffocating in the rivers of your pleasure. It would be dying how he wished to live: lost between the legs of a ravishing woman.

“Rather, that’s where I’ll be sending you,” he breathed reverently, Adam’s apple bobbing as he huffed your feminine fragrance whilst nuzzling at your mound, stimulating your pulsing clit with the tip of his nose. You keened softly at the teasingly featherlight touch, hypersensitive from artificial lust and going a lifetime without ever tasting true pleasure at the hands of another.

“I wanted you on my mouth from the moment I laid eyes on you… knew it’d be the best cunt I’ve ever had,” he confessed, peering up at you through the cleft of your thighs as he used his tongue to spread your syrupy folds apart, squishing that pink cushion against your weeping entrance. Keigo glowered into your teary eyes as if in threat, like he were a carnivore daring you to deprive him of his hard-earned meal; the extent of his claim over you so severe he was gently scraping his fangs over your puffy lips with salacious possession, tempted to spear into you like a ripened peach.

You felt akin to a newborn, thrust into a terrifying and ruthless world that was beyond your comprehension. Lurching backward, your equilibrium fled from you while you were mercilessly feasted upon from below. You floundered helplessly before your hands flew backward to prevent you from toppling over, slapping onto his solid pectorals as he jerked you downward to keep you properly seated on him. Your head tipped back from enraptured anguish, jaw dropping in sync with Keigo’s as your distressed cries overlapped almost harmoniously with his frustrated, muffled groans. It was as though he simply could not get enough, could not fit enough of you onto his palate without mangling you, as he attempted to seal his lips over the whole of your swollen heat in gluttonous vain.

Well, Keigo wouldn’t be deprived of anything, so he would pursue something he was more than capable of, which was stuffing you with him. A warbling, drawn-out moan accompanied the sensation of his tongue impaling your core like melted butter, burrowing to the absolute brink of your plush, throbbing walls. It was downright bestial, similar to the rest of his defining features – that flexible, serpentine muscle seemingly endless in length…

The arms encasing your thighs rocked you, guiding your hips over his mouth, spreading your narrow slot around his broad tongue. The further it went the more it curled, corkscrewing around itself whilst squirming with an innate precision, prodding against a spongey part of yourself that you hadn’t even known existed. But how could you have known, with those poor little fingers of yours? Such an endearing yet tragic sight it was – your lost look of confusion, as you obliviously hurtled like a speeding comet towards a real climax. The first of so, so many.

Honestly, how had you even managed on your own for so long, without knowing what your body was truly capable of?

Everything was going to be okay, though… because Hawks was here for you now. The sculptor of wills, the subjugator of mortals – here to make it all better. He would give you more pleasure than your young mind could even fathom, until it – until he – was all that you knew. With such a pristine canvas to work with, he would mold you better than any pet he had owned in his centuries of living; his magnum opus was what you would soon become.

It was going to be beautiful. You would be beautiful – more than you already were. Oh, how fortunate he was to have you delivered right to him.

The moment his tongue stroked your upper wall, digging against the tender springiness of doughy muscle with malicious pressure, the world around you ignited in a flickering brightness. You had sincerely believed that it was a direct response to the utter euphoria coursing through you, setting the fabric of reality ablaze. Even as the cabin returned to its gloaming dimness, your vision remained stained in white. The only explanation for the thundering boom resounding from above was because of your quaking heartbeat, shaking the whole of the earth itself. Despite your gaping mouth, you were incapable of producing a sound, merely choking air down in gasping intervals.

The sound of him thrusting into you, however, was noisy – obscene. It finally receded after a couple of thorough pumps, the snakelike organ slipping through your squeezing confines and pulling out with thick strings of slick attached to it, rolling in dollops onto his chin when they succumbed to the pull of gravity.

“Fuck,” he huffed into your twitching cunt, bathing it in a balmy wash of his hot, hot breath. “I’ve never tasted a pussy so sweet… I don't think I'll ever get enough – I'm going to suck you dry.”

True to his intention, he merged his glossy lips with yours, faint clicks coming from beneath you as he kissed your sex in a vulgar imitation of what he had previously done to your mouth. He smeared your honey upward, carving a messy path through your labia to the poor, neglected nub sitting on the peak of your mound. Keigo pulled it into his mouth, nursing on it sweetly, as though in apology. His appetite for you truly was limitless, considering he seemed loath to separate his face from your bottom half yet.

You weren’t sure how your life force hasn’t already been drained from you entirely, with how ravenous he was for your lust – a result of some sort of aphrodisiac he produced naturally, surely. One might think him completely heedless to his own lust, content to siphon arousal off you like you were his personal reservoir, until an arm uncoiled from your thighs to travel down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping beneath his waistband where something stiff was trapped. As if spurred by its counterpart, his other arm unwound from you as well, splayed fingers dragging up your belly to seize one of your heaving breasts.

With nothing to support your lower extremities, the brunt of your weight was pressed onto his mouth, but it hardly seemed like an issue for Keigo, unbothered and merrily slurping away as his hands played with both you and himself.

Tentatively, you heeded the whispers suggesting you to remove one hand from his chest, to slide your digits into his flaxen locks and fasten them there. Keigo purred in approval, aiding your undulating movements with the eager nodding of his head. Now you were getting it; his sweet little scholar was learning so fast. An unearthly ardor swam in his golden eyes, almost appearing incandescent as he fed from you, fed off the palpable need he was inciting within your body. He could feel it approaching before even you could – the orgasm filling the engorged bundle trapped between his lips.

Raw sensation was becoming the only thing you could understand, pleasure the only language you could remotely articulate. The dusty residue of carefully amassed knowledge, trinkets of tucked away memories, were all swept away in but a blink as your mind, body, and soul was swallowed into a maelstrom of bliss. Keigo was all you could perceive, and all you could feel.

And he would make sure it stayed that way; he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers like he had with the last one…

The neurons in your brain sputtered shortly, crackling like livewires as you gushed over his swirling tongue, over the lower half of his face. The sound of gulping could be heard, Keigo trying his damnedest to catch the majority of your juices. Only once he deemed you adequately spent did he finally unseal his mouth from your cunt, a deeply satisfied exhale accompanying its separation.

“I could just eat you up for hours, but I think I’ll save that for another time… make a proper day of it, you know?” He laughs cruelly, sending your fluttering folds off with one last, teasing puff of air before halting his hands from their self-indulgent activities to resituate you over his lap.

“Now I want you to ride me – just like you did my face.” He licked the shiny glaze from his devilish smile, indifferent to the remnants that beaded off his jaw as he caressed his palms up and down the trembling thighs that straddled his own. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You couldn’t recall who this being lying beneath you was before now, nor did you know what he meant by those confusing words... but you did know that he was capable of making you feel things – such nice, wonderful things... so why should you not listen to him?

With a demure nod, you grabbed onto the divots of his hips, and began to rub yourself against the tautly stretched fabric of the hard bulge he had placed you on. Keigo chuckled, taken with the adorable naiveté newly instilled within you.

“Oh, you sweet, silly thing,” he cooed fondly, giving your legs a playful yet immobilizing squeeze. “I might've overdone it… seems I’ve sucked your brain out of that pussy too, hm?”

You gazed down at him in confusion at his stilling of your movements. Weren’t you doing exactly as he asked? This was the same thing you had done to his face… wasn’t it?

“Here, let me help you a little.”

Holding your gaze firm, his biceps hardly quivered as he lifted you high enough into the air to lift his hips. What happened next would have been something you could only describe as a figment of your imagination, had you not already been poised over an entity whose existence alone confirmed reality was no longer what you made of it.

…or formerly made, one should say.

Two streaks of red darted through the air, zipping and whizzing around your form as unidentifiable blurs until they flitted under you toward Keigo’s waistband, which was where they settled. You realized they were feathers – the very same that belonged to the imposingly large, outstretched appendages extending from his back – moving autonomously despite the laws of physics, or practicality for that matter.

Such things weren’t much of a concern to you anymore, though. You observed in dewy-eyed wonderment as the plumes pulled down his pants like dutiful, disembodied hands. His stiff length slapped onto his belly with a heavy smack, dribbling his own sticky desire onto his skin. Naturally, it was flawless like the rest of Keigo, being neither too excessive nor modest in both length and width, tantalizing yet intimidating in design due to how shaped for pleasure it appeared to be.

Your mouth watered at how rosy and swollen the head was, peeking through a sheath of tight foreskin from which it was visibly desperate to be released, and practically overflowing with pearls of pre.

So spellbound you were by his gorgeous cock that you’d all but forgotten about the independently thinking, gravity-defying feathers, until they suddenly flattened to your waist after discarding his pants, spiraling up your torso and leading a trail of goosebumps to your collarbones. Keigo lowered you back onto him while those little red hellions returned to his sprawled wings, emitting a raspy sigh at the feel of your pussy lips pressing against his achingly full balls like soft, squishy pillows.

Simply unable to resist, he rolled his hips against yours, sliding the underside of his shaft through your soppy folds. You caught on quick – at least to those telling twinges you felt deep in your gut, an enkindling of wanting warmth that only his touch seemed to appease. Your cunt chased after him, greedily humping his cock until it glistened with a generous coating of spit-mixed slick. Oh gods, that feeling was back already…

You whimpered pathetically, afraid that you will have to live with this ungodly burning inside of you until it eventually consumes you from the inside, consumes you until you literally expire. Make it better… he’ll make it all better… won’t he?

“What a needy mess I’ve turned you into. Tell me, does my needy girl want it inside?”

“Yes,” you almost couldn’t wait for him to finish speaking to pipe up, voice brittle from the unbearable yearning that was charring your innards to a crisp. “I—I want it, please…”

If Keigo managed to look any smugger, his neck might’ve snapped from his head’s overinflated weight. The satisfaction that he exuded was palpable, trailing off him in waves as he leered at you domineeringly despite the submissive, vulnerable nature of his position. Clearly, he did not need to rely on physicality alone to express his authority, with a pervasive influence residing in every nuance of his being. Keigo truly was something nature would deem as an alpha, in every sense of the word.

“By all means – help yourself. It’s yours now.”

Was it cruel to hand you the reigns when you were unknowingly moments from breaking the seal of your virginity on his hard, impure cock? Perhaps a little. Was it unjust to invite you to claim your own gratification, despite knowing once you were pumped with his seed, there wouldn’t be a crumb of a possibility to recovering the identity you once had?

Not in Keigo’s eyes.

Although, to be fair… Keigo was what parents would describe to their children during bedtime stories as a monster – a grotesque boogeyman squeezed inside of an angelic skinsuit.

So monstrous he apparently was, that even his own kind deemed it necessary in casting him out, finding his methods of sating himself via an “imprisoned” victim beyond reproach. Personally, he saw them all as spoiled, brain-dead hypocrites. He wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes if females weren’t already such a rarity to encounter amongst sailors, and he’d rather pluck his own feathers than follow his species’ customs by ending the life of every catch after their “use” has been fulfilled – an act of mercy, they claimed it to be. Exile be damned, if there was one thing Keigo loved more than indulging in the most sinful of vices this world has to offer—

It was shaping waifs like you into his permanent, cross-eyed fucktoys. That was what he called proper mercy.

And how unfortunate for you… encountering him when he was beyond due for a new one.

It truly took everything within him not to gorge his talons into your hindquarters and ruthlessly skewer you onto his cock, to not buck into the cozy warmth of your snug little pocket as you prepared to mount him. Difficult as it was, Keigo needed to remain patient, to keep this moment special – because he deserved this. He deserved you.

…almost as much as he deserved to drill that lush pussy within a hairsbreadth of tearing straight through to the clutch your womb, but all good things come to those who wait… right?

Right, he chanted in a looping mantra, splitting his bottom lip beneath a gnashing canine while your velvety folds bloomed around his head, clit catching on the angry flare of his glans. Patience, Keigo – patience.

“A little lower, darling… you’re almost there.” His whispered words strained through clenched teeth, carrying a feigned lilt of sweetness. It seemed there was a delay with your response time, seeing as you continued to drag the slippery peaks of your sexes together with a lidded, dreamy haze clouding your eyes. Thankfully, Keigo’s whittled restraint didn’t have a chance to fully unravel, once that subtle order finally managed to pierce the heavy fog surrounding your brain. A breathy mewl rolled off your partially exposed tongue, at the audible pop of his blunt head squeezing past the tight ring of your opening.

It was good that he prepared you somewhat when he was eating you inside out, not that it was needed due to his own elixir surging through your system, but teasing your cunt with the pleasure of being filled was certainly paying its respects now.

“There we go,” he hissed, head dropping and lashes fluttering at the rhythmic gripping of your insides. You little minx, getting off on inserting just the tip of his cock. Were you even aware of anything beyond that dumb, blank stare? Have you already reached the point where the tiniest of sensations fed into one long, ceaseless climax? If not, he would be sending you there very soon. It was quite possibly his favorite part, watching his playthings devolve into a slave of feeling, plummeting for the first time into that pit of bottomless rhapsody.

Keigo growled, a guttural foulness clinging to his once silvery inflection, as he openly mocked you while your drenched heat slowly enveloped him, “I haven't even put it in halfway and you’re already trying to milk me dry. Poor thing… so sensitive.” So much for being sweet – women like you truly weren’t aware of the power they held between their legs, how it could reduce even a specimen of Keigo’s level to a borderline primitive state.

Unaware of the pink lines you were scratching down his flexed abdominals, your jaw fell more slack at the heavenly burn of his girth prying you open, your eyes unseeing as raw sensation once again took you over irrevocably. You could actually feel it – his sheath sliding with the wet suction of your muscles, his drooling head paving a sloppy path up, up, and up. It was divine… he was divine – immaculate – in every aspect possible.

Your cunt was your voice of veneration, oozing its praise down the rigid column of flesh spearing it all the way through in a torturously languid glide. Perspiration coated your forehead, trickling past your furrowed brows and beading off the tip of your nose as you gradually sunk onto him, sinking and sinking onto that instrument of hedonism until it couldn’t go any further. An airy exhale fled your lungs, at the feeling of him nudging against the pappy padding of your cervix, two mouths of opposing design kissing each other for first time – but undoubtedly not the last.

Tonguing the blood that dribbled off his bared fangs, Keigo sneered as though the vision of debauchery hungrily engulfing his cock – like it were the very sustenance for your survival – disgusted him; but of course, it was quite the opposite.

“I think this pussy does want to be filled up… y’hear that?” He’s given up on handling you delicately, it seems, the addictive quality of your freshly broken in sex unearthing the animalistic calling to pin a cornered mate down, to rut into their presented slit like a prize fairly won. His fingers finally succumbed to that incessant itch to dig into your hips, fulfilling the inevitability that was lifting you up and down like a ragdoll molded for his pleasure. Those deadly nails punctured your skin just as they had your face, inviting bloody tracks to trail over the curve of your ass and thighs. The pain only made you moan harder.

“Yeah,” he moaned throatily, delighting in the filthy symphony of your merging bodies, the squelching collisions of your cunt swallowing him up while smacking against his tightening scrotum. Admittedly, he wasn’t fighting his breakneck descent into flooding you with a severely backed-up release, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t contributing with how zealously you were wringing him out, strangling him for everything he had. “She’s beggin’ for it…”

How disappointing, an echo of your former self lamented, fractured and left to fade within a forgotten alcove of your rapidly shrinking mind. How demeaning, being reduced to nothing but an extension of what was between your legs, a mere ornament for a wanton beast to hang off its cock. She hated this, and she hated you – this lust drunk stranger who spoke with her voice, sniveling in assent to the despicable filth spewing from this despicable brute. It didn’t matter that none of this was your choice, didn’t matter that you were essentially a blank slab he was chiseling into a shape of his own nefarious design – you were a pathetic disappointment… but then again, so was she, for leading her depressing life to such a depressing conclusion. Pathetic and fitting.

“P—Pl—” Stammering like a fool, you were barely of the mental capacity to even control your tongue beyond hanging it out like a useless bitch in heat, barely able to wrangle the single functioning brain cell ricocheting around in your skull with every guided bounce on his lap.

“Aw, what’s that? Kitty wants some milk after all?”

Don’t you dare say it, you traitor. Don’t you fucking—

“Please!” you gasped in a rush, finally finding a modicum of wherewithal to speak your wishes coherently, despite not having the faintest clue as to what he was really saying. Fill you up was all you had heard, but it was enough to send your system into high alert, igniting a carnal need for more. Even stretched to your capacity, you still felt like something was missing… somewhere just beyond the gummy barrier that his tip was repeatedly mashing into, as though it shared the same desire as you. It felt empty there – so very, very empty.

“Look at you, asking so nicely.” His pitch deepened, thick with cloying praise, bloodied lips spreading roguishly as another thickness of his spread you so impeccably that your eyes were on the verge of crossing. Fill us, fill us, the voices hymned in unison – so loud they were that it no longer felt like they were confined to your mind, instead floating freely amongst the space around you. “Well, whatever my sweet pet wants… she gets.”

Keigo’s hips snapped upward, meeting you halfway between jerking yours down. The veins webbing through his arms were prominent from strain, moreso of refraining from utilizing the strength to slam you onto his engorged length with enough force to shatter your pelvis, rather than overuse. A few cuts and bruises were unavoidable, but he couldn’t afford to completely break another toy. Although, that was somewhat part of the charm of you humans, he thought adoringly – the fragility of your supple, ephemeral forms. For what made a flower so lovely, if not how fleeting and feeble the season of its life was?

And yet – with the utter decadence that was you, that was the downright celestial embrace of your homely little cunt – Keigo found himself strangely at odds with the realization that, eventually, you too would wither and fade with time. How curious, considering out of his many companions, and knowing you for all of an hour, he feels so entirely resistant to the idea. Like this cave, this boat, and his decidedly unjust sentence of banishment… he wants your existence to be just as indefinite.

Viscid, molten pleasure was flowing all over his organs, pooling in the funnel of his gut and amassing within the bubbling well that was his imminent climax. Seeming to sense it coming as much as he had, perhaps within the sporadic twitching of his balls or from the glaze that fogged his eyes over, you surrendered yourself wholly to his control, body going lax for his unbridled use.

Faster than even your sober mind could have comprehended, you were flipped onto your back and suspended from your lower half by Keigo’s firm, iron-gripped hold in one fell swoop. It took more than a few seconds for your eyes to catch up and adjust, practically rolling around in their sockets from the jarringly speedy change of perspective, and from being rutted into like you were a damned closed fist. All the while, Keigo helped himself to your exquisitely messy heat, slamming into you with the sole intent to releasing the brimming load that had his cock fit to fucking burst.

Cool gusts of air caressed your overheated figure, alleviating a portion of the dizzying feverishness that prevented you from reclaiming your bearings. You blinked slowly, bleary gaze following the slanted line of your rocking body to the one that was pummeling into it, somehow becoming mesmerized with the sight of his lean physique rippling and rolling over the spectacle of those grand wings beating synchronically with his thrusts.

Clutching your hips tighter, Keigo pulled you onto him with such an aggressive urgency that the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass was practically wince inducing.

“…Gonna pamper this cunt every fucking day, for the rest of your sad little life,” he rambled gruffly, sweat-damp hair falling from its sweptback style as his head canted forward. He stared vacantly at the sloppy intermingling of your sexes, at the foamy slathering of your combined fluids that covered his cock, appearing with a fresh coating at each frantic withdrawal from your pussy. Sucking in a shaky breath, he hissed harshly at the sight, “B-Breed you over and over... keep you all—unh—swollen an’ tender…”

“Oh, oh fuck—” As if those incorrigible vows alone were the key to releasing the floodgates, he panted and shuddered, wings nearly touching the ceiling as they shot out behind him. He threw his head back within the same motion, mouth ajar as he legitimately whined, too consumed in the sensation of his release jetting from his tip in fat spurts to even care.

You instantly fell apart at the seams, a chain reaction triggered from his own concentrated lust flooding your insides, from the tangible pressure of it spraying against your cervix almost endlessly. Pure rapture radiated down to the marrow in your bones, cracking open to the very nucleus of your cells. You did not just feel born anew – you felt reincarnated, baptized and reshaped in the incinerated remains of the woman you had once been. Unsullied no longer, and unbound nevermore.

You looked upon the world with new eyes, vision overturned from being raised so vertically by your spread legs that only your head remained cushioned by soft bedding. A plaintive, exhausted sound left you, too many visuals and feelings that you couldn’t yet fathom bombarding your senses.

“Mine…” A masculine voice whispered above you, brushing its warmth up your body while apologetic hands lowered you gingerly, returning your listless form to a horizontal position. Rubbing fondly over the slight distension of your achingly stuffed belly. The voice’s owner followed you closely, ensuring you remained glued together by your sticky cores as they settled on top of you, acting as a shield from any dangers or distractions.

Perception finally clarifying, you gazed at the being who was buried within you, branding their hushed declarations of ownership onto your skin while petting your shivering frame with a soothing gentleness.

Beautiful, was the first word to come to mind, the first coherent thought you could gather. This had to have been the afterlife, because such unequivocal divinity could not rightfully exist wherever you had come from. What, you wondered, could you have possibly done in your previous life to earn such holy company?

Perceiving the sparse illumination bending around his head as a halo, rather than an abstract reflection from the crystalline fixture looming over him, you questioned with sincere softness, “Are you an angel?”

"…No," he declined through a benign smile, despite the seraphic appendages that stretched behind him, seeming to absorb the final wisps of light that bled through the gaps of his feathers as the cloak of night finally descended upon the two of you.

ㅤ

“I am your God.”

ㅤ

Two hours after sundown…

ㅤ

“C-Captain?”

Large fingers clutching the neck of an equally sizable bottle of rum froze midair, pausing their pursuit of tipping its contents into their disgruntled owner’s mouth. The man in question placed the glass container on his desk with a heavy thump, annoyance visible on his rugged features as he directed that frosty stare at the one who was intruding upon his private time. Of course, it was one of the newer recruits; the others knew better than to just barge in when something required his attention. He may be a pirate, but he prides himself on having at least basic manners.

“What?” His tone was harsh, snapping like a bullwhip. He’s had a really fucking long day, so this runt had better get to the point quick or he would be given a proper reason to shiver in his boots.

The young crewmate hovering in his doorway was soaked head to toe, dripping wet from toiling away on the main deck amidst the tempest that was raging outside, battering loudly against his windows. He looked like he was one skipped meal from being carried off by a gentle breeze, so it was something of a wonder that he’d been holding his own in all that turbulent chaos, the captain will give him that.

“It—It's him, sir. He's here."

Ah, so that’s why he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Looks like the others hadn’t clued him in on their expected guest of the evening until it was a little too late – poor sap evidently had the scare of his life just a moment prior.

“…Send him in.”

A light, chipper voice immediately interjected from beyond the cracked door, “No need! I can see myself in, thanks champ.”

The scrawny youth didn’t waste a second in making himself scarce, vanishing on hurried footsteps as a taller, winged figure slipped through the vacant entryway.

“Boy,” the blonde newcomer whistled, flicking the droplets that clung to his feathers while running a hand through his drenched mane, slicking a few errant pieces back into place. “It’s really comin’ down out there, huh?”

If looks could kill, he would have keeled over onto the floor right about now.

“It's about damn time you showed up, Hawks.” The captain’s gaze was bone chilling, rife with contempt despite the familiarity of which he spoke that name. “My men and I have been sitting on our asses in this fucking storm while you've been getting your cock wet."

Having the audacity to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish display, Keigo chuckled lightheartedly, “Sorry-sorry. I admit I, uh, got a tad carried away… lost track of time.”

“To say the least,” the captain muttered dryly, rolling those pale eyes as he clambered onto his feet, rounding his desk to regard the shorter male properly. Despite his significant disadvantage in height, Keigo didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, looking up at the behemoth of a man with a lazy, carefree smile. "I take it your new pet is to your liking?"

“Oh, she's a delight.” Flickering candlelight cought in his irises, giving them a mirror-like shine. Contrasting with that eerie sheen in his stare, he sighed like a love-struck maiden, “Really made me work for it, too. You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend. Where did you find such a delectable thing?”

“On my ship, of all places,” the captain scoffed, crossing his burly forearms, “foolish girl thought she could hide in the bilge. Perhaps she was seeking unpaid passage to another capital – she refused to say. I didn’t give a damn to interrogate her on the matter; who she was and what she was after makes no difference to me, as long as my pockets are getting filled.” He spoke in a clipped tone, clearly unable to care less about the topic.

“Ahh, so that’s what she meant by ‘sticking her nose where it didn’t belong’. My,” Keigo snickered, shaking his head before glancing at the rattling windows – at the stygian darkness that lied beyond them – with a smirk, “what rotten luck, thrust from one cage to another...”

The larger man sighed loudly, visibly running out of patience. This siren has always been unbearably chatty. “Are we done here? I would like my payment as we agreed upon, and to get away from that shit-hole rock you call home before my boat sinks.”

“Aw, don’t act like such a stranger, old friend. I always make these trips worth your while, don’t I?” In spite of his petulant expression, the blonde procured a hefty pouch seemingly out of thin air, filling the cramped cabin with the sound of jingling coins as he tossed it upward in idle repetition.

“It’s the only reason why I tolerate your presence as much as I do, friend,” the blue-eyed man sneered, his mounting ire very nearly emerging as puffing smoke from his flared nostrils. Years of dealing with this irksome pigeon granted him the willpower to not act on the impulse of snatching that sack of leather out of the air like a petty child. "And do try your best to make her last longer than the previous one. I'm not getting any younger, and these little excursions are beginning to become more trouble than they're worth.”

Keigo grinned, sharp canines amongst a perfect set of incisors gleaming in the dim light, “Don’t worry – I intend to make her last.”

“…Shame your kind has such a limited time on this earth, though,” he adds on an afterthought, catching the pouch a final time before rotating and squeezing it with his clawed digits, scrutinizing the captain like one would an ant – with a detached fascination. “I doubt I’ll find one as lovely as her after she goes, nor such an effective errand boy like you for a good long while...”

“Tch.” The captain’s upper lip curled, distaste written across his grizzled visage. Any lesser man regarding him in such a manner would’ve had their neck snapped before that sentence was through. The demon known as Hawks was a necessary exception, unfortunately; he could sniff malicious intent the moment of its manifestation, and punish it in kind in the same breath. “I always forget your true age with that mug of yours.”

Preening with a blatant narcissism that could only be earned through decades upon decades of successfully exploiting it for his own benefit, Keigo bellows out a musical laugh, “It certainly is a face to be envious of, isn’t it? Done me a lot of favors over the years, it has.”

Exhaling wearily, the captain extends an arm, palm upturned in expectation. “Just give me my money already.”

“Struck a nerve, did I? Alright, alright—” A flick of his wrist sent the pouch sailing through the air, landing in the other man’s hand with effortless precision. Even his heavily muscled arm sunk slightly beneath the impact of its compact weight. “Pleasure working with you, as always.”

"Likewise. Now get the hell off my ship."

His ever-present smile the last thing that brawny male saw, Keigo saluted mockingly whilst spinning toward the exit, sashaying across the room with leisured grace.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Returning to his seat, the captain didn’t spare a moment in dumping his spoils over the surface of his desk, intent on counting every last coin to ensure his endeavors were sufficiently recompensed. Hawks never skimped on his payments, which was admittedly one of his few respectable traits, but it was still a habit the seasoned pirate couldn’t quite break in a long life of cutthroat dealings.

“Oh, by the way…”

With a sharp inhale, he slowly looked upward, settling that withering glare on the siren lingering outside his open doorway. A pelting downpour of rain showered upon him, streams of water cascading off the angular edges of his profile, dripping off the full lashes shielding the single yellow eye directed his way.

“How's that strapping eldest of yours?” he questioned innocently, although the slyness that clung to his words conveyed their real intent quite clearly. “Touya, was it? He ever consider taking after the... family business?”

The captain’s steely features did not betray his emotions, but his terse dismissal might as well have been transparent as glass.

“Goodbye, Hawks.”

Huffing in amusement, Keigo turned that prying stare away without further inquiry. Blackened skies flashed and flickered, illuminating his turning form, the vibrant shade of those scarlet plumes, and the area around him long before the deafening roar of thunder arrived. Considering the conversation officially concluded, the captain’s gaze returned to the pile of gold strewn out before him, but that smooth voice beckoned for his attention a final time.

“So long, Enji.”

Yet, when he had glanced up in irritation, his sight was met with an empty doorway.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #tw: noncon #kei <3 #owtw collab #writing.cr

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