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jallieae · 2 years

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despair - hunger games ficlet | 3.3k

(based on @ambrosethedarling’s lovely, complex au on twitter. please go follow them it’s so cool. anyway now take “darling of the capitol”!tommy realising that they’ll never let him leave. set two years before Wilbur’s Games, and two years after Tommy won his own.)

— warning for blood, implied sh (super super vague), violence

When the Capitol darling disappears, he goes quietly—but his quiet is loud.

Techno may have bothered to think about it if it were the first time.

Hell, he may even have managed a sliver of concern, but there’s no place for that now. Not when he knows, just as well as anyone else who has seen a single Capitol broadcast, that Theseus simply doesn’t… leave. He’s as present in the Capitol as the buildings themselves, never straying, never looking back to the District he’d starved to get away from.

Too valuable as a gilded showpiece to leave, too present in the Districts to stay. Not to mention that the Capitol tends to prefer all its trophies to remain on one shelf—that Techno knows well.

At some point, Phil mentions the possibility of some sort of lucrative vacation, and Techno accepts that answer, because doing otherwise would expend much more thought towards the kid than he cares to expend.

And anyway, Theseus returns after two weeks.

Any shred of curiosity that might’ve clung to Techno is stomped into the ground once he hears how Theseus’ arrival is being punctuated: an interview celebrating his two-year old Victory, to be broadcasted to both the Capitol and the Districts.

An arrogant fanfare in itself that Techno wouldn’t care about at all if it didn’t involve him.

“This is bullshit,” Techno seethes, holding a looser grip on his tongue than he should, perhaps, but the irritation grows inside him too messily to contain. “I have nothing to do with him. I don’t need to be there.”

Phil clicks his tongue, offering him a wane smile as he feeds seed to a Mockingcrow out of the palm of his hand, not at all bothered by the threat of the iridescent feathers or the unnatural point of its beak as it uses him as a perch.

“It’ll be sweet,” he tutters. “It’s been so long since the Capitol has seen you two together.”

I know, Techno thinks, hands clenching into bloodless fists at his side. I wanted it that way.

But Phil’s disapproval would require too much energy to sift through, to try and protest, so he tucks the anger deep inside of himself.

He can’t tell if it’s luck, or not, that his lungs are well-used to holding back those scraps of rage. At the very least, it’s easier.

Whatever it is, it keeps him docile, for about three more days.

—

Theseus doesn’t look surprised to see him, but he does look more miserable than he ever has before when Techno walks briskly up to him: pain creasing the edges of his even complexion, like he knows what’s about to happen.

That makes one of them—Techno has no clue what he wants to say, only that he feels the words tugging at his tongue too unbearably to be resisted. So he doesn’t try.

He finds, as he slips past hovering Peacekeepers, that even despite the distinct lack of stinging reverence gracing Theseus’ face, he doesn’t quite feel like shielding Theseus from the full force of his emotions.

“Techno,” Theseus greets uneasily as Techno walks up to him. His throat wavers, betraying the steadiness of his cordiality. “I’ve been meaning to—”

“Cut the crap,” Techno hisses under his breath, uncaring of the way Theseus’ eyes widen nervously. His mouth clicks shut—another unusual first. “Two years. Really?”

Resignation consumes the walking mascot’s face.

“It’s the anniversary,” he tries lamely, eyes flicking over Techno’s face. “The Capitol wants to cele—”

Techno snorts, breathless and derisive, cutting him off again.

“Sure,” he drawls. “A two year anniversary. For your Games.” The anger threatens to boil over, and he takes a deep breath to shove it down. “It doesn’t involve me.” When Theseus’ face splits open helplessly, Techno grits out what should be a final blow, “I don’t want anything to do with them, with you.”

He’d expected those words, laced with venom, to leave more of a crater, an impact big enough to prompt Theseus into dipping into his pot of influence and getting Techno out of this. He doesn’t want to be hauled upstage, a background dancer to Theseus’ neverending performances.

But Theseus’ eyes only slip closed as he sighs tiredly, facade cracking.

“I know you don’t,” he mumbles, no longer looking at him. Techno can’t decide if this… whatever this is is worse or better than the typical idolization. “I didn’t… “

He lifts his gaze, appearing sympathetic, and Techno doesn’t have to think about it any longer. Not now that he’s busy wondering how Theseus could have possibly managed to make sympathy look so convincing.

(Then he remembers: Theseus has always been a performer.)

“I told them to leave you out of it,” Theseus finishes, managing to draw a narrowed gaze out of Techno as he rubs at his right wrist obsessively with his thumb. “But they wanted a dis—” His face pales, lungs seeming to trip over the half-shapen syllable. “A story,” he corrects, looking faintly ill. He tears his hand away from his wrist to scrub harshly at his mess of ash-blonde hair. “That’s all they ever want.”

Techno doesn’t dignify that excuse with a response. If Theseus expects this to be new information, he’s wrong. He’s…

Something like horror prickles over Techno’s skin, and every muscle in his body becomes painfully rigid. It’s funny—the nausea that spills through him is soupy and dizzying and anything but sharp.

“What is that?” Techno asks suddenly, taking a step forward.

Theseus jerks back defensively, hand yanking away from his hair just as quickly—but the damage is done, and his reaction is only sickening confirmation.

When he sees that Techno is not backing off, Theseus tries to hide it, guilt coloring his gold-dusted face. His hands come up in surrender, but no amount of white flags could rid Techno of the disgust that whirls through him.

Still, endlessly stubborn, Theseus acts like it could.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Theseus blurts out quickly, eyes wide and panicked as he backs away each time Techno steps forward. “I swear it wasn’t.”

Techno halts, suddenly overwhelmed by a cold anger that blooms furiously in his chest. He doesn’t want to get close to the kid at all, he decides, and he’s already seen what he didn’t need to see anyway: has seen the pink streaks racing up through Theseus’ hair, consuming the once-blue dye with a cynical sort of innocence.

“Sure it wasn’t,” he bites out, jaw clenching. He inclines his head sharply to the side. He can’t stand the sight of him. Techno has no clue how the hell he’s going to make it through this interview. “Sure.”

“I didn’t have a choice—”

“I don’t care,” Techno snaps, followed instantly by a wave of sharpness, “You did.”

In his peripheral, Theseus stiffens. “I didn’t.”

A bitter laugh spills past Techno’s lips—and he only realises too late that too much is flooding out of him. It’s emotion that has been building and festering and rotting, its lifespan far preceding Theseus’ recent absence.

“Oh, please,” Techno scoffs, feeling how painfully vulnerable it grates against his vocal cords and hoping Theseus can’t tell. “Don’t act like you weren’t—”

“Thirteen.”

Techno freezes, burning anger flickering like a candle in the wind. He turns.

“What?”

“Thirteen,” Theseus repeats, louder. His eyes are two rings of blue steel, glinting dully. “I was thirteen.”

He falters; he doesn’t mean to. Techno is finding that he is not equipped to handle this version of Theseus: gilded skin pulled back to reveal something more real. It’s intolerable for him. But he’s locked in place, as Theseus stares him down.

“If that’s what you mean,” Theseus remarks dully, hardly bothering to raise his voice enough for Techno to hear. “When I volunteered.”

Techno grinds his jaw. It’s either that or let himself fall victim to the mess his head is becoming.

“I couldn’t even hold my trident properly, you know,” Theseus adds, gaze taking on a strangely absent quality. He tilts his head to the side, the picture of contemplation, but his eyes go right through Techno. “I didn’t know what I was doing, I… I still don’t.”

He swallows hard, and Techno swears he sees a flash of regret somewhere on him before he sees nothing at all.

“They were just Games,” he finishes in a jagged rush of air. “That’s all they were to me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Techno forces out gruffly, ignoring the prickly voice that sings liar, liar, liar in his skull. The rest of his brain takes up the chorus like a Mockingcrow, burning it into his mind, It is what I meant. “That’s not…”

Techno straightens, shoulders hiking up. He doesn’t have to be here, he realises. Theseus can charm the whole Capitol into treasuring him but not Techno, never Techno.

That particular brand of innocence had been shattered two years ago, as he’d watched a barely-teenager, still full of youth that the Games hadn’t manage to break yet, cheeks full of baby-fat that two days in the Arena would gut, sign himself up for certain death and spit Techno’s name out the minute he was crowned a Victor.

Techno had distanced himself then, as far away as the Capitol would let him, and he can do it again now. If not from the interview than from whatever this is.

“Techno,” Theseus calls half-heartedly as Techno turns to leave.

He stops, mercifully turns. When their gazes lock, Theseus’ eyes are tired. Techno distantly wonders how he hadn’t seen it before, then the thought vanishes altogether. It’s not his problem.

“The interview,” Theseus says, swallowing hard over the words, “It’s— it’s not about the Games.”

Silence festers, crackling with tension.

Techno can see that same tension etched into Theseus’ small frame, begging to be acknowledged. But Techno doesn’t understand what he’s saying, (not unusual,) and he doesn’t know how to indulge it.

“Right,” he mutters dryly, as if he knows what Theseus means.

The last thing he sees, before he goes, is the fall of Theseus' face into a young, childlike ball of misery.

If it tries to haunt him, it fails.

—

Theseus shows up at his room at midnight.

It’s only his wrist, shoved through the door before Techno takes in his face, that stops Techno from slamming it right then and there.

Theseus casts a strange, indescribable look towards his arm when Techno nearly slams it, and then he’s swallowing, throat bobbing as his tears his eyes away from his forearm, wetting his lips like he’s about to break into meaningless rambles—

Techno was tired before all this. Now, that exhaustion becomes a tangible, deadly thing.

“Theseus…” he begins, every part of him a warning.

Whatever this, he thinks, as Theseus pants for air and stares up at him helplessly, I don’t want any part of it.

“I’m sorry,” Theseus rasps, fingers digging into the doorframe as he clings to it. His half-slumped form is so pathetic that Techno is sure he’ll collapse if he lets go. “I’m so—”

“Don’t.”

A throaty sort of whine tumbles past his lips. “Techno—”

“Don’t.”

Theseus must feel the danger in his voice, because he reels back several steps. It only grants him a clearer look of Techno’s infallible rigidness. He doesn’t remember when he’d started breathing hard too, but his lungs push out each breath shallowly and breathlessly, a predator staring down prey.

On Techno’s suite doorstep, something in Theseus’ eyes shatters. The desperation radiating off of him splits into a million jagged fractals, glimmering like a broken galaxy.

(Techno won’t see anything like it for another two years, after another ‘disappearance.’ Perhaps that time, he’ll know better than to look away.)

The desperation disappears altogether. In its place: a glazed hollowness, absent and cold like an open grave. He stares at Techno vacantly, like Techno had been the one to dig it.

Techno slams his door shut before he can finish witnessing a star die in front of him.

—

Techno stumbles out of his room as late as he can possibly get away with the next morning.

He knows better than to try to leave, but around Phil, he doesn’t need to shield his blatant aversion to this entire charade. Not entirely.

“When do we leave?” he grunts out, hovering in the doorframe of the kitchen.

Phil, sat pleasantly at the table, turns to face him when he speaks. Techno half-expects a scathing response, heatless but prodding, like a cat nudging at its kitten. He knows Phil knows what he’s talking about.

But he doesn’t get that, or anything close to it.

“Oh,” Phil remarks airily, fingers clutching a porcelain teacup. Expensive-looking rings resembling a chrome shade of tarnished iron circle his fingers, and strange triangular ones cover his fingertips—faux claws, or maybe talons. “Haven’t you heard?”

Techno frowns, not appreciating the syrupy lilt to Phil’s voice, the way his face grows heavy with sympathy.

“Heard what?”

Phil sighs lightly, eyes flickering down to the sugar cubes swirling in his steaming cup.

“The interview has been postponed until tomorrow.”

That gives Techno true pause. Something about the way he says it… features downturned…

“And why is that?” Techno jabs, eyes narrowing sarcastically. “They schedule over some noble’s birthday or something? Didn’t want to drown out their glory?’

It’s a half-hearted remark, born out of confusion—a playground insult at best. It draws a musical laugh out of Phil, though.

“I’m sure this hypothetical noble would love to give a piece of their spotlight to Tommy, if that were the case,” he hums. “He’s a dear.”

Of course they would, Techno grumbles to himself.

And to think he’d lost sleep over the kid last night, mind toying with that weird shattering he’d done.

(He hadn’t even given Theseus a chance to explain himself, or the apologies falling off his lips like prayers.)

“But,” Phil continues, voice dipping into something worryingly sober. “I’m afraid the reason is much less… exciting.” His eyes flick up from his tea to cradle Techno’s gaze. “Apparently, there was an accident.”

His voice is uncomfortably light, the edges of his smile a little more plastic than usual. The sight of it burrows deep into Techno’s gut.

“An accident?” he echoes, as the air grows heavier.

Wrong—something is achingly wrong about this. He can’t explain how he knows that, how his skin knows to pickle, his heart to hiccup.

Phil nods, lowering a mini, elaborately frosted cookie down onto the plate in front of him.

“Something with Theseus,” he explains without looking up.

Techno clears his throat, and the weight clinging there disintegrates.

“Did… what happened?”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t. But he does need to know. His chest has been scooped out, leaving a gap he knows can only be filled by an answer. And Phil obliges him, the way he always does with the things that don't really matter.

“He was hurt. Something to do with his…” His lips purse, a strange un-Phil-like tightness wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “His arm,” he finishes.

Techno exhales; easy and weightlessly.

“His arm?” he questions, letting a mocking edge slip into his voice. “That’s it?”

Phil shares none of his bitter humor. Another almost-strange reaction.

“Mangled was the word they used, I think,” Phil murmurs. The air grows cold. Phil clears his throat. “It was, so I’ve heard, quite the wound to put back together. But,” he adds quickly, as Techno is suspended between wanting to pore over this and wanting, desperately, to never hear it at all, “Whatever they did was successful. Theseus is in recovery.”

“...Right,” Techno grunts, nearly slipping into the churning sea his mind has become. “Yeah, well, that makes sense.” Another mocking comment that feels too dull, too routine to be truly mocking now, “Can’t put on a puppet show with a broken doll.”

“No,” Phil agrees quietly. “I suppose you can’t.”

—

Techno never does find out what ‘accident’ had occurred, and he doesn’t get the chance either.

The next time he sees Theseus, it’s during the interview.

But this time, Theseus won’t even look at him.

It’s like a stranger has slipped into his skin: a stranger who knows all the proper cues that Theseus had, like when to laugh and when to smile and when to turn his scar to the nearest camera lens, soaking up the so-called sweet, poetic devotion there.

Throughout all of it, Techno remains firmly on the sidelines—where he’d wanted to be, if leaving altogether wasn’t an option, and it isn’t—and it’s only when he’s dragged beneath the clinical lens of the spotlight does Theseus falter.

“The Blood God was my hero,” Theseus murmurs reverently, looking straight ahead. In a velvet chair as soft as heaven, Techno is assaulted on all sides by a nasty sting that erupts over every inch of his skin. Disgustingly shameless, Theseus doesn’t spare him a glance, and keeps going. “He’s the reason I wanted to compete.” A trembling hesitation, a hitched breath that Techno barely hears, “Sometimes, I feel like part of my title belongs to him.”

Techno burns. Not burns—seethes.

The audience feasts, and the cameras gorge, and it takes every ounce of carefully-honed restraint to keep himself from exploding.

What gives him the right, his mind roars, an Earth-shattering, magmatic current of fury, to put that burden on me?

The conversation shifts. The interview ends.

Techno isn’t done.

Theseus shakes when he drags himself off of his chair, once the lights have faded and the hungry eyes are full off of the rawest parts of them, and Techno doesn’t care.

Maybe he knows what’s coming for him. He certainly doesn’t fight when Techno corners him against a wall, chest heaving, heart attempting to claw its way out of his chest.

In fact, he makes it easy. Theseus flattens himself against the wall, head tilted up sharply, mouth pressed into a thin, unrevealing line. His right arm, covered in bracelets from the elbow down, is clutched fearfully towards his chest, as if Techno had tried to touch him.

The show of weakness makes Techno burn brighter.

“Your hero, really?” Techno snarls, blood roaring in his ears. If Theseus wants a god, he’ll give him one. But he won’t try to play a forgiving one. “So, what— that apology, it was for nothing? Just another act, huh?”

Theseus swallows, but says nothing. Techno doesn’t need him to.

“You know, I’ll give it to you, Theseus,” he laughs out, mirthless and sharp. “You sure know how to put on a hell of a performance.” Techno runs his tongue over his teeth. “I almost felt bad for you. I almost—”

“They made me say it,” Theseus whispers, stilling him. “Every word.”

He won’t look Techno in the eye, and maybe that’s why he’s able to jerk himself to a halt. Maybe, that’s why his blood becomes instantly replaced with ice.

(Maybe that’s why he blinks, and he’s not standing in an arena anymore.)

“Now let me go,” Theseus orders quietly. Techno doesn’t miss the waver in his voice, nor the way he casts a weary glance over Techno’s shoulder, to the Peacekeepers hovering around them, gloved hands reaching for their hips. “Please.”

Reeling in a way he can’t describe, Techno steps away.

Freed, Theseus sags against the wall, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat before he seems to force them open. He exhales quietly, then shoves off the wall, offering Techno the faintest twitch of his mouth—a smile, shaped like a shard of glass.

Techno remains unmoving, trapped between space and time, as Theseus steps around him: back straight, shoulders sharp. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly at the Peacekeepers, who lose their uniform tension.

Theseus doesn’t look back at him as he leaves.

It’s a warped version of every interaction they’ve ever had—except this time, Techno is the one left behind. Shocked, and confused.

And this time, as Theseus lengthens the chasm stretching between them, Techno regrets it.

#and scene #rip my boys #bedrock bros brainrot hours #you hold my whole heart #dream smp #hunger games au #tommyinnit #technoblade #tommyinnit fic

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aetherhollowarchive · 2 years

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sun, moon and spider for all the ros and the other characters if you can, please? would love to learn more about them all

You really went full on, anon :)) Thank you for the ask! And super happy to hear you're interested in the story ♡

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

Eli - Crush Sovereign in the worst possible way. Will lie, cheat, manipulate and kill for it. It’s become a bit of an all consuming though. Will obviously get over it, since they're a RO :P Other than that obsession - finish what their sister started and return the empire to its former glory (there's a reason why it's so whimsically called Summersmead^^).

Keyon - He genuinely wants to make the empire a better place for its people. He’d do a lot for this goal, he’s already sacrificing a lot of his time and energy and often at the cost of his own physical pain and exhaustion. He’d also bribe and kill, but never without Sovereign’s permission.

Rae - This is a tough one. I kept defaulting to negatives: never be weak again, never let others dictate her life. She’d been drifting for a long time, been in a lot of bad places, tangled with some very shady people. Then she met Blythe and she saw something of herself she lost in the other woman. I guess, right now, she wants Blythe to never go through what she had. She’d end anyone who has any ill intent towards her friend.

Blythe - Wants to be her own person, outside her family’s expectations. Well, she ran away from home and sought refuge with a despotic ruler, so I’m guessing pretty far, but nothing criminal.

Thane - Boy just wants to be loved and accepted, a place and people to call his own. Linkin Park’s Somewhere I Belong came to mind: "I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real I wanna find something I've wanted all along Somewhere I belong"

Bonus Angelica - The Chosen One: wanted to change the world. Well, she did pay the ultimate price for it :P Carling Powlett - Chief of police: dissolve the class system. Nobility should have never existed. She’s taking a more political approach. Nothing good started with bloodshed. Alder - Pirate king: freedom. He’d do anything for it, except to put his crew in any danger. They are a packet deal, so to speak. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid: Wanted to make a joke and say she wants to be a real girl. ^^ But honestly she just wants to be seen as real. And another thing that is, surprise, surprise, spoiler-ish.

☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?

Eli - surprisingly, they are a morning person. They just wake up with that excitement, a brand new day to experience, new adventures and highs, new ideas how to set things right and plot revenge. They’d make a coffee first thing, but it's more a habit than a need.

Keyon - morning person extraordinaire. Wakes up like clockwork and is very set in his daily routines. He enjoys those early hours the most, before the day’s activities take their toll on him. Takes his tea at a nice table by the window while looking over the plans for the day ahead.

Rae - not a morning person, but is not excessively grumpy if needed to wake up earlier than she normally would. She’d take a shower first, and set her prosthetic hand. Then a shot of rum to start the day.

Blythe - a bonafide night owl. Will be tired all day if woken up too early and potentially get a headache throughout the day. She checks on her pets first.

Thane - He is not a morning person at all, but forces himself to wake up at some ungodly 4 AM for an extra hour of training. I imagine he curses his existence the first time he opens his eyes and sees the sun has not yet risen. Then he's off to the training grounds.

Bonus Angelica - The Chosen One: Morning person. Had coffee with Eli - it was basically their tradition. Carling Powlett - Chief of police: Not a morning person naturally, but still wakes up to always be on time at the station. Kisses her wife. Alder - Pirate king: He wakes up… whenever the f**k he wants. Not a morning person per se, but years as a part of a cohesive crew has made him wake up relatively early (or past noon depending the events of the night before). He does a quick walk around the ship when he wakes up. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid:

I couldn't help myself.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Eli - A literal daredevil, so no irrational or mundane fears here. As for the biggest one - disappointing their older sister. It somehow got worse after her death.

Keyon - Biggest fear is dying without leaving a mark on the world. He’s a highly rational person, so I really can’t picture him having unfounded fears.

Rae - Not a lot of fear left when you suffered through the worst of life, I guess. Biggest would probably be losing the few people she let herself get close to.

Blythe - Biggest fear - turning into her mother. She’s a germaphobe, but do germs count?

Thane - Dying alone and unloved as the biggest one that he also does not fully comprehend. Heights for the mundane (and he’s very ashamed of it).

Bonus

Angelica - The Chosen One: Conformity. Not striving for excellence when things get easier/ life gets contempt. Carling Powlett - Chief of police: Failing the people of the city she’s sworn to protect. Otherwise she’s a tough cookie. Alder - Pirate king: Losing his crew or freedom, in that order. A bit of a claustrophobe. Gytha - The Clockwork Maid: Being discarded.

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

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Can you do a maurder smut please 🥺? I absolutely love them! Thank you love 😘😘!!

pairing: young!remus lupin x reader

warning(s): 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, slight degradation (if you squint)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i also love the marauders. my little broken babies. if you like fanfic, please go read ‘debt of time’ by ShayaLonnie and/or ‘all the young dudes’ by MsKingBean89 (both on AO3). both of them are super long and super good. i cried reading both

The full moon was fast approaching and you could tell Remus was on edge this month. You could see it in the way he held himself during dinner, stiff as a board and positively tense. The way he forced himself to chuckle at James and Siruis’ dumb jokes, when usually he would be joining right in with them. The way he forced himself into polite conversation with Peter, Lily, Mary or whoever else felt like chatting with him.

But you could especially tell because of the way he had a possessive death grip on your thigh all throughout dinner. It was like he couldn’t seem to get himself to loosen up or remove his grip. It seemed like it was the only thing keeping him stable in the moment.

It didn’t happen often, but some months in the lead up to the full moon, Remus would be on edge. When it did happen, it could always go one of two ways. He’d either be irritable and anxious or he’d be absolutely possessive and, well, there was no other word for it besides feral. This month seemed like it was turning into the latter.

That was only confirmed to you when, after dinner, he wasted no time in dragging you up to his dormitory and pinning you against the door. He locked you in a ferocious kiss, mostly tongue and teeth, while his pelvis ground against yours.

When he pulled away, you could see nothing but lust, possession, and danger in his eyes. With his forehead resting against yours he whispered, “Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You knew it was his way of asking, no, begging, for permission to let lose tonight. To get all of this pent up energy and emotion out of his system before the full moon came.

“You know I like it when you get rough,” you replied, a small smirk on your face to let him know he had full permission to do as he pleased.

“Y/N,” he whined out, his hips stuttering for a moment before making eye contact again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Next thing you knew, you were being hoisted in the air with his hands firmly placed on the backs of your thighs and being carried over to his four poster bed. He used all of the control he had left to place you onto the bed before he climbed in over you.

You found yourself in another heated kiss while clothes rapidly came off. There was nothing slow or graceful about the way either of you were moving, it was simply just raw need consuming the both of you.

When you were finally naked underneath him, he pulled himself away to look down at you. His eyes raked over you hungrily and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he took you in.

“Can you stay quiet for me?” He asked, a hand coming up to trail along your thighs as it slowly made it’s way to your core. “Or do I need to cast a silencing charm? I’d rather hate it if anyone heard what’s mine.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but all the air drained from your lungs in a breathy moan when his finger trailed up your slit and moved directly to your clit. “Fuck,” you whimpered, unable to control the noises that were already leaving you.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already this wet? And already this loud?” He asked almost mockingly, but he diligently picked up his wand and cast a silent charm around the room to ensure no one would hear you but him. “All this for me?” He continued, an eyebrow raised as he hovered above you, his fingers never once straying from your drenched core.

“All for you, Remus. I’m all yours,” you replied softly. And in a bold move that you knew would only spur him on, you continued. “Use me, take me, please.”

It was him then that couldn’t stop the groan that spilled from his lips or the way his hard cock twitched against your thigh, wetting the flesh with precum.

Without even a warning, he ripped his hand away from your center and moved to align his cock with your entrance. He took a moment to steady himself as he rubbed the tip of himself along your clit, sending spark after spark of pleasure through your body.

“Are you gonna be good for me tonight, love? Gonna take me like the good girl I know you are and scream my name?” He asked, just the tip of him inside you now gently thrusting in and out - taunting you.

You could only nod your head in return, too distracted by the anticipation of his thick cock finally being pushed inside of you, too frustrated by what he was currently doing to properly form words.

“Use your words,” he said gently, a complete juxtaposition from his body language that oozed raw dominance.

It was moments like these that left you in awe of your boyfriend. He was usually so quiet, so controlled, so reserved. Especially compared to his more unruly friends. But he when he had you alone like this, hovering over you in bed, in complete control of your mind and your body, he was a force to be reckoned with. And then only left you even more wet for him.

“Please, Re. I think I need it as bad as you do right now,” you finally managed to pull yourself just enough to form once sentence.

And that one sentence was all it took for Remus to fully sheath himself inside of you, his thick cock stretching you out and forcing you to let out a high moan.

“Oh, darling, you definitely don’t need it as bad as I do right now,” he half argued with a smirk on his face as he watched the way your own contorted in pleasure. And with that last sentiment, he kicked off.

He was thrusting in and out of you so harshly that the bed was slamming up against the wall repeatedly and both of your bodies were moving inch by inch up the bed until he used one arm to brace himself against the headboard.

Neither of you could contain the animalistic noises falling from your lips, the both of you too lost in pleasure to try to stop it. You hands slowly found their way to grip his back, your nails harshly digging into his flesh enough to make him grunt into your neck. But he never let up, so neither did you.

“You’re so fucking tight. Like a fucking vice around me. Nothing could ever feel as good as you darling,” he blurted out in between thrusts, just wanting to let you know exactly how good you were being for him. “Turn over,” he added suddenly, his cock leaving your body as he waited for you to follow his command.

You did so with ease and positioned yourself exactly how he liked, almost like you were offering your body up to him. Your ass was up in front of him, exposing everything to him, back completely arched, so far down your breasts were rubbing up against his sheets, and you placed yourself face down into the mattress. This position gave him full access to you and gave you zero control. But that was exactly how it needed to be right now.

“Look at my pretty little whore,” he mused to himself as he ran the tip of his cock along your slit again. You couldn’t really see him from your angle, but you could see the shit eating grin he had on his face.

And just like that he was back inside of you, his thick cock forcing your back to arch further as you fought to relax to take it in. From this angle you could feel everything - every vein, every ridge, every glorious inch. It was like magic.

Remus leaned over you, his chest connected to your back, caging you in with his body and arms. He held you in place while he absolutely wrecked you, the moans from both of you only growing louder and louder by the thrust.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body shaking and your mouth spilling a steady string of expletives. Remus, ever observant, noticed it right away. He trailed a finger down your body and to your clit, a guttural moan forcing its way from your throat at the action.

“Cum for me. Cum for me and scream,” he spoke lowly into your ear, the breath hot against the side of your face. It was quite possibly one of the most erotic things you’ve ever heard come out of him just by the way he said it.

And you did just what he wanted, your body fully under his command. Your core clenched around him tightly as you came and a scream of his name fell from your lips just in time for his own release. You could feel his cum fill you up, only prolonging your bliss as he worked you both through the end.

You both stayed like that for a moment, silent but for your panting breaths and completely still in his arms that had never left you. Finally he pulled out, an unexpected whimper coming from you at the sudden emptiness, but he just chuckled as he sat down at the end of the bed.

“Don’t move yet,” he said softly and you did. You could feel his cum dripping out of you and down your legs, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to see. “You look so good filled with me,” he admitted, his hands running up and down the backs of your thighs as he simply watched, in awe of you.

You could practically feel it in the air that he was satiated and much calmer now. At least for tonight.

#remus lupin #young remus lupin #young marauders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin imagine #harry potter

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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mxvladdy · 3 years

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I would like to request! Can I request? Well I wish for you to consider what type of person/what kind of situation would cause the brothers to make a pact with someone. Maybe even what they would request in exchange? This can be before or after they met MC. With that out of the way, I totally binge read all of your works after my sister gushed to me about the True Form series, and just thank you??? It made me really happy reading them and it's always impressively detailed and well thought out.

Awww thank you! I’m glad it’s rave-worthy! I plan to add to it soon bc it was an absolute riot to write and research for lol

And wow this one is a toughie! I’ve actually never thought of what would make them want a pact! Hope ya like it!

Lucifer- Pact of Success

Absolutely the hardest brother to do business with, but that is probably a good thing. He is incredibly selfish with his contracts. Sure, they’ll benefit from his pact mark, but he will get the most out of it. Aside from MC he only takes requests for contracts from the human “elite”. They make wonderful feathers in his cap.

But also he takes some enjoyment in breaking them. They always get so cocky with his contracts thinking that they have him on the ropes and at their beck and call. It gives him a good chuckle, humans are so brazen considering their very short lifespan.

He destroys them slowly over time- all the little minutia he peppers in his legal bindings adds up. Not that his normal clientele ever read the fine print. But he designed it that way to make sure they don’t. All their requests are the same and so simplistic. Big boats, fancy cars, climbing the proverbial ladder faster than their friends or enemies - blah-blah-blah. At least the paperwork is easy to complete.

Very rarely does he find a contract he is excited to make. Those contracts are given to artists and craftsmen he sees potential in. He loves good art, and every artist should take pride in their work.

When it comes to the “price” of his pact it is worryingly simple. All he wants is some of their time. It sounds simple, and it is. Which is why it’s dangerous. The contract doesn’t specifically say how or the rules of it. How he takes your time is completely up to him.

Sometimes he simply comes for a drink and to ask how business is going. Or with the pacts he gives a damn about- he pops in to see progress on their artist visions or listen to their latest musings.

Other times if he grows tired of his pact holders’ ever-growing demands or ludicrous requests he comes and takes time right out of their lifespan. His visits leave them weak and fatigued though they can’t place why. He is a slow siphon of death and they are too foolhardy to notice. If he is feeling especially cruel, or sentimental he takes memories, things that a demon generally wouldn’t want.

Time with family, the first time they met the love of their life, a child’s birthday. He takes them all and leaves them with only a blurry recollection in his wake

When MC crosses his path though he is very apprehensive. He doesn’t want a pact or anything that could jeopardize Diavolo’s upcoming plans. But they make his skin itch with want. He doesn’t want them to be another trophy on his wall. He wants a mutually beneficial pact, one that almost leans in their favor and it grates him. Should/ when a pact is made he won’t use his powers on you as then he would have to take something in return. Instead, he takes his time and coaches them to be successful by their own right, though if he has to eliminate some obstacles- well they don’t need to know that.

Mammon- Pact of Riches

I love his man with all my heart, but even when he isn’t losing bets or getting tricked into pacts he still isn’t the most selective with who he conducts business with. He is the avatar of greed, after all. I guess it comes with the territory.

He scouts for already wealthy humans or people with a good head for numbers and is money smart. Some are too smart to deal with him, knowing that whatever monetary gain they are granted from him will backfire in the end (or their mama’s taught them not to make deals with strange demons). But a sucker is born every minute, and he has nothing but time on his hands.

His pacts are pretty simple and upfront. Sign on the dotted line and they get some of his wicked gamblers’ luck and more riches than one human life span could do much with. While he gets a glorified accountant and a nice percentage of their profits. It’s a win-win… for him.

See he forgets to mention that there are two sides to every coin, and his flip side is particularly detrimental to one’s health. He just so conveniently glosses over that his luck will wear out over time depending on how frequently the pact holder uses it.

But the hunger for more doesn’t. If anything that particular sensation grows into an all-consuming fire in the pit of their pitiful guts. It forces them back into the seedy basements or griming gambling halls. One more roll, one more stack of bills, just one more time and they will hit pay dirt surly! But the losses just keep coming. If one of his pact holders ends up face down in a ditch after one too many bad hands and uncontrollable greed… well ain’t nobody’s fault but their own.

He has a softer spot for humans that seek him out and treat him like a living being instead of some tool to be tossed around at will. It’s refreshing. He will actually take some care with these pacts and tell them to temper their use of his magic so they can get the most out of it in the long run. They still might run into misfortune and he is genuinely sorry for that but there is only so much he can do in the end.

With MC he doesn’t even tell them about what his pact can do or how to use it. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to his human. If they want something tell him he will do it himself no magic or pact summoning required. He wants to keep them happy and healthy for as long as his lifespan will allow.

If MC should find how to use his pact mark he will get pissed. Not so much at them but the situation in general. He’ll be upfront about the whole thing, judge him how they want but he refuses to let greed consume them too. He focuses a lot of time and energy on learning how to reel in his magic with them so they get some of the perks but none of the major downsides. Unlike with his other pacts where he lets it all just run wild (just means they use up their contact faster and he can move on to even bigger fish).

Leviathan- Pact of Wisdom and Skill

Surprisingly, despite his antisocial tendencies with “normies”, he gets around when it comes to contracts. Perhaps it’s jealousy at his other brothers or perhaps he finds collecting contracts a bit of a game on its own.

He has a small niche of people interested in his pacts. Pacts with him give people a strategic advantage in nearly any situation. Seemingly overnight his humans turn into near tactical geniuses. Because of that, he is very popular with military leaders and humans with dangerous careers.

He also makes mini contracts with foot soldiers and humans with dangerous oceanic jobs. They just want to make it out alive and he gets that. With contracts like these, he is more lenient and doesn’t ask for much. Make an offering of fancy food to Henry 2.0 or wait in line for a rare human figuring he wants. Wam-bam thank you ma’am kinda business.

This is completely different from his larger contracts. With the military contracts, he expects them to continue with their duties until they die in the field. Simple as that, he doesn’t mince words in his contract. It’s what he would do as General so he expects it from them. Should they try to define him he will get rid of them.

He takes delight in defiant contract holders. They think they are as clever as he is now. But they forget that they are using his magic. He could take his magic away right after they defy him sure...but he won’t. He lets them stew for a bit, thinking they have had the last laugh on envy. If they wish to play games with a General then he will make sure it’s good.

With MC he plays on easy mode, granting them insight and little touches of his magic during exam week or when playing a game against his brothers. He wants nothing in return from them but some quality hangout time.

Satan- The Pact of Retribution

As the only pure-blooded demon out of the seven, he does these pacts out of necessity like most other demons. While the others do it more so out of monetary gain and an obligation to the crown. Or if you’re Belphie, sheer enjoyment.

He does it because he hungers, it a hole in his very self that he is trying to fill. He hunts for one reason only- relief from his cardinal sin. He will never feel the calm after a storm of rage naturally. Patience and tranquility are the antitheses of his very creation. So he gets it artificially through his contracts.

He looks for the downtrodden, angry, and the most bitterly despondent humans he can find and gives them the chance to seek vengeance. He is very upfront with what his pact entails. Once the vengeance is complete his rage will consume them and they will become another soul for him to consume.

He isn’t cruel about the process or tries to trick a human into a mark. Very few of the ones he approaches turn him down even after hearing the details. It is possible that humans once shot to get even and he gets to feel bliss, to feel calm. He finds out that the longer or more obscure the plan for retribution is the sweeter the outcome is for Satan.

If he is feeling super ornery he will go after people affected by the outcomes of Lucifer’s pacts. They are easy prey and almost as wrathful as Satan himself. Bonus it aggravates Lucifer to no end when he has to go out of his way to clean up the mess Satan’s contract made of his own. Anything to piss him off makes Satan feel all the better.

With MC he doesn’t need to use his pact magic. Mostly because they are always around him in the Devildom, and no one is stupid enough to mess with someone Satan favors. If someone or something does irritate his MC he will take it out before it can fester into something his magic will try to latch onto. Keeping you calm and happy makes him feel almost tranquil as well.

Asmodeus- Pact of Gratification

Another very popular pact to try to get, and how could it not? He is fabulous~ But as much as people try to find him, he only goes for a certain type of contract. He has his perfectly manicured fingers on the pulse of the fashion and beauty industry.

His name is a whisper among the up and comers in the business. Many-while not looking for a pact - at least want to see him at least once. Many never will, they get cut from their agency or quit before they could get a foothold. It happens, and he hates to see it. Everyone deserves to feel gorgeous, or at least get a chance to be in the same room as him!

But for the ones the perceiver and climb the ranks get invited to one of his many parties. They can only get invited by someone wearing his mark. He trusts them to know who would be amenable to his contract.

His pact grants its bearer a glamor that can’t be broken by any meer mortal or mage. It makes them absolutely irresistible. How they wield that power is completely up to the user, he won’t judge or intervene.

Once they sign the contract all his holders see him frequently. He absolutely loves dropping in on their shoots or fancy dinners to say hi or get a recap on how they are fairing. Not because he is a nice demon or just super friendly (though they would like to think so). No, he just likes to watch.

His payment is slow, methodical and no one sees it happen until it is already complete. In exchange for beauty and the graduation of getting whatever their little hearts could as for he gets their ability to love, whether that be familiar or sexual. Asmo loves the feeling of being loved; he wants it in all ways possible.

Some pact holders don’t have an issue with this. They got their looks, a successful career, and people to manipulate to their heart’s content. Not having strong contentions with anyone works in their favor. But others don’t and while they search for him to try and get that little slice of humanity back he is long gone. He got what he wanted anyway.

MC is his darling. He can and will make a special contract just for them (reviewed by Lucifer). A beautiful new contract for a beautiful soul! He wants you as unchanged as possible because this MC is the one he fell for.

Beelzebub- Pact of Prowess

His pact is a very elusive one as he isn’t keen on going and looking for one. Beel isn’t a big fan of these trades, but he needs them every once and a while. Nothing is more filling than a contracted soul.

His trade is basic, make a pact and you get his strength. He, like Satan, is upfront about what his payment is and what side effects will plague them. He sees no reason to lie about it. The more they draw on his power the more the host's body gorges itself. Their bones will collapse in on themselves from the stress of it- the magic feeds on anything in the host bodies. It will deplete the iron in the blood, go after the calcium in the bones, sink its teeth in their muscle system.

It’s all rather gruesome and Beel does feel bad about it. He tells though who are still adamant about binding with him ways they can negate some of the side effects by taking supplements and augmenting their diets.

But it is like patching a deep cut with a bandaid, it just won’t work. His stomach is near bottomless- humans most certainly aren’t. They simply can’t eat enough to sustain their body like he can.

It surprises him that people still seek him out. To some, the pros outweigh that very huge cons. Some really do believe that they can find a loophole or find the right mix of medication to offset it.

He doesn’t get beaten up about it anymore but it gets on his nerves how obstinate humans can be about his very clear warnings. When his magic finally consumes them he takes both the body and soul back down with him and feasts on both.

With MC he keeps an eye out on them. Consistently checking in, making sure they don’t skip a meal, and join him at the gym often. He wants them to be strong and healthy enough to not ever want to use his pact. Though he does speculate that their angelic bloodline buffers both his and his brother’s magic a good bit.

Belphegor- Pact of the Visionary

Dreamers come in every shape and size and from different walks of life. But they are are all suckers to Belphie. He is known as the Lord of Decet for a reason.

He will promise them everything and anything their heart desires. That invention that will change the world? Done. A patent that is long overdue. Easy enough. A sudden rush of ingenuity to complete that nagging project. He is a devil of his word, it will be done. It- just won’t be done in the way they would want it.

See manipulating the physical realm is hard work. Like a lot of hard work. More than he would ever do for some stupid little human. It’s a lot easier to control outcomes in his realm.

The moment the contract is signed his hosts fall under his control and he takes it from there building a perfect little dream world for them to frolic in and believe they are getting what they want. He feeds off of them here, taking little sips from their energy and exploring these new fresh dream worlds. His dreamscapes get boring every once and a while, so having a new human under his influence is always refreshing.

While his humans thrive inside their minds their bodies waste away in bed as his magic draws them further and further into an endless sleep.

He doesn’t see anything wrong with his contracts. Who would argue with him that the dream realms aren’t real in their own sense? Did his humans not accomplish their goals in the end? He doesn’t think of the outside effects of his magic and pacts. Belphie really doesn’t care about what families he broke apart or lives he inadvertently affected.

MC is different to him though. He doesn’t keep them under his spell hardly ever (maybe if they are spending too much time with Dia or Lucifer. But he doesn’t push it with them.).He still walks into their dreams whenever he feels but he comes just to visit, not to change. He simply just enjoys keeping you company and relaxing in the little mini paradise you always seem to create in your dreams.

#obey me #request!#obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanon

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guerilla935 · 4 years

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My Favorite Fishing in Video Games Where Fishing is Not Core Game Play

A really awesome surprise for me is always to boot up a game that is full of action and suspense to be introduced to a fishing side activity. I have toiled away at fishing in games for hundreds of hours at least. It has gotten so bad in some instances that my friends have asked me why I haven’t just taken the plunge into real fishing. It’s definitely because that is a lot of work and in real life I don’t catch a fish every 30 seconds. They have also wondered why I don’t just play a fishing simulator like Planet Fishing (Shout out to Planet Fishing that’s a great game). And that’s where I have to think for a while. Fishing while you have better things to do like save the world is very special. You aren’t fishing because it’s the objective of the game or because that’s why you are there, you are fishing because it’s fun and maybe you need a break to swing a fishing rod instead of a sword. And then you can stop, and get back to fighting or whatever the rest of the game entails. Below are games that have fishing in them for mostly no reason at all. I have shamelessly spent way to long with my bait in these waters and absolutely loved every second of it and I hope that you (the reader) can find a lot of relaxation in these waters as well.

Pokemon Series

Since the very first Pokemon game there has been fishing. You get the old rod from some guy and then you are free to fish up as many goldfishes that you want hoping that one of them will grow up to be a 21 foot tall dragon. Pokemon has combined their fishing with their main game play and makes you at least start a battle with the fish you drag onto shore. Now fishing in Pokemon is pretty subpar mainly because a single Pokemon game hasn’t really been known to have more than a handful of Pokemon that you can fish for. Also if you are looking for a strong water type Pokemon you could do a lot better than fishing for it. Typically a Pokemon player will fish about 5-10 times total. And although fishing for Pokemon isn’t all that great it has been in every game for over 20 years and that is pretty impressive. It’s a small detail that makes the world of Pokemon feel like a real world of wild creatures.

Sonic Adventure DX

In Sonic Adventure DX you are given the choice to play as a lot of different characters, one of which is named Big the Cat. Most of the characters are combat characters that rely on speed and attacks to get through levels, some even wielding rocket launchers and extremely oversized hammers. However when you start the story of Big the Cat you are thrown in a completely opposite direction. Big the Cat is a giant purple cat who lives in the jungle with his best friend Froggy. Froggy accidentally swallows one of the most powerful objects in the Sonic universe and Big the Cat must chase him all over the world trying to fish him out of where he is hiding so that he can eject the Chaos Emerald out of him and they can return to their life in the jungle. The fishing mechanics in this game actually are really good and this is probably because Sega had just put out a series of mildly successful Bass fishing games before releasing this game. Either way its absolutely hilarious that Big the Cat gets to defeat Chaos 6 right before Super Sonic has his showdown with Chaos Perfect.

Final Fantasy XV

In Final Fantasy XV you play as Noctis and his favorite hobby is fishing. When I first played this game I sped through it and never fished once and reached the end of the game never indulging Noctis in his hobby. When I replayed Final Fantasy XV I fished for 50 hours and then ejected the disc from my console. The fishing in Final Fantasy XV is surprisingly deep with a lot of the vendors supporting what you could call a fishing road trip. In the game it is extremely dangerous to be out at night so I would plan day trips to lakes to maximize the amount of fishing I would get to do. I would prepare days in advance to make sure I could afford the trip and that I had enough supplies to both protect myself at the lake and have enough supplies to last the whole day. Final Fantasy XV really is a game about getting really distracted and fishing is probably its best distraction. My days on the lake were the perfect balance of peaceful and rewarding, this game offers an awesome reward of well planned trips and a good haul of fish.

Final Fantasy XIV Online

Final Fantasy XIV is the only game I have ever played where the fishing played exactly like its combat. When you are fighting enemies in a dungeon in FFXIV you are constantly adding buffs, landing hits, using consumables, and managing resource bars. When you are fishing in FFXIV you are constantly adding buffs, landing hits, using consumables, and managing resource bars. Note you are doing so at a much more leisurely and less life threatening pace but you are still doing it. I never maxed out the fisher class but I got it into the expansion content which was a really long and relaxing experience. Yet another Final Fantasy title where the real meat of the game is in getting distracted. When you fish you also sell on a player market that fluctuates based on market price just like real fish. You get the relaxing fishing side of the game and also an aggressive economic number crunching side as well. I spent way too long with a real pen and paper deciding how much I should sell for on any particular day and bossing around my two cat girl employees.The MMO aspect of the game adds so much to what you would expect to be a very solitary experience.

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

Have you ever gone fishing for hours to receive an empty bottle? That is exactly what kick started my addiction to fishing in Twilight Princess. An empty bottle in Twilight Princess means another way to heal yourself, another way to add oil to a lantern, another way to carry useless water around. The only way to get the 4th bottle in the game is to go to a dedicated fishing spot and fish until you pulled it out of the pond. The actual fishing is pretty weird, it involves motion controls which I still am not entirely sure what they do or how to properly use them but it is really fun to hold the pole in gyroscope and set the lure in the water waiting for fish to come get a nibble. Although the physics with the water make it difficult to see if you have actually gotten a bite or not it still is enjoyable the other 85% of the time it works.

Stardew Valley

So this one is at the top of every other “fishing in games” list and there is a big reason for that. It’s really good. I think in my first Stardew Valley farm I gave up farming entirely and fished all day every day and stopped to buy food to replenish my energy and go back at it. I really didn’t care about getting rich or making enough money to expand the farm or get to know everyone I actually spent about 50 hours just fishing. The fishing takes some skill and a pretty keen eye but the random jerks of the fish and the rhythm of the game play are so fun to try to master. It’s a part of Stardew Valley that I felt like I was continuously improving on as time went on and it was really fun. I mean I don’t recommend it because you’ll end up moderately poor but it was really fun.

Fantasy Life

Fantasy Life offers you 12 potential jobs, you could be a brilliant blacksmith or a devious potions maker, a lumberjack or a knight, a hunter or a seamstress. However your inner dad is calling and you decide you want to play through a fantasy RPG as a fisherman, hell yeah. the story is relatively short so you can quickly unlock a lot of locales to fish at and there is a manageable economy system that lets you deal in fish in advantageous ways. You can even pick up cooking on the side and make fancy dinners and sell the fish for higher you can do that as well. Fantasy Life is like a clever mix between Animal Crossing and Final Fantasy XIV and it kind of succeeds and falls short of it. The fishing also takes a good amount of skill and rhythmic approach to master so it doesn’t get boring almost at all until you have cleared the game.

Maple Story 2

Maple Story 2 is one of the most expressive and cutest games that I have ever played. And the fishing is no different, its all about style. The fishing in Maple Story 2 is monotonous and can get old but you do it for the chibi clout. Because much like the rest of the game you can look however you want and do whatever you want and sometimes you just feel like kicking back and throwing lure in the water at the beach. I never got super into the fishing in this game but it won me over with its adorable design and stylish atmosphere.

Animal Crossing Series

Of course I had to include the most popular game right now. Animal Crossing has become something of a connection between people when we can’t leave the house. A thing we all have in common on social media and with our friends. My first experience with Animal Crossing really starts with New Horizons and I was completely blown away. The fishing isn’t super complex or difficult but the range of what you can pull out of the water and what you can do with it is absolutely breathtaking. For a game about cartoon people living with humanoid cartoon animals the fish looking photo realistic. And the museum where they can be kept is stunning. The museum looks like it was designed to capture the feel of being in a museum and matches the design of all the great real life aquariums and observatories. Although it is a bit frustrating when your rod breaks it is easy enough to make one (or worst case buy one) to get your bait back in the water.

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate

Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t. Isabelle getting added to Smash brought a very powerful fishing move that isn’t practical all the time but is really funny. Wouldn’t recommend this game if you are looking to relax and fish but I do recommend hooking your friend with a fish hook and send them flying off screen if you had to.

Minecraft

I have a very special role in Minecraft when I join a friends server. A role that I assign to myself. While everyone is off getting awesome swords, spelunking for diamonds, and exploring the infinite landscape, I build a small wooden shack and I set up a farm with an irrigation canal and start fishing. A steady supply of food is necessary and while I’m hanging out with my friends in a server I’m happy to be the one to provide it. The fishing in this game is probably the slowest of all the ones on this list but is the most useful. just throwing the fish in the oven creates food that can help keep you and your companions alive for a long time. I think I definitely have my limits with Minecraft fishing and I couldn’t do it for hours on end it is rewarding to set up shop and find a nice place to settle down for a few hours to fish.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

This is the only Tactical RPG in this post. Fire Emblem: Three Houses has sections between combat where you can go and talk to your students and do other activities. We aren’t here to discuss other activities though we are here for the fishing. The fishing allows you to catch fish for some reason that I’m sure is good but never intrigued me enough to learn. All I know about the fishing in Fire Emblem: Three Houses is that it’s fun. I started to bust through combat just so that I could get back to fishing. The funniest part about this one is that the fish has a health bar. Pressing the A button at the exact moment finds a way to become easier and still find ways to mess you up. Either way, I’m not that interested in tactical RPGs but I heard there was fishing in this game so I had to play it and it was worth it.

Jak & Daxter: The Precursor Legacy

In Jak & Daxter, Daxter gets turned into a small animal by dark eco while exploring a dangerous island off the shore of his home with his best friend Jak. To get back to the island to investigate, the pair have to borrow a boat owned by a fisherman who is troubled by an invasive species of poisonous eel that is ruining his haul. He asks Jak to catch fish for him without catching any eels. This fishing mini game can only be done once but it is going to either be something you think is very unique or a huge waste of time. All I’ll say is that the sound that the fish makes when it goes into the net is absolutely a reward in itself it is so satisfying. But anyways, more intense than some other options here but get it done so you can get back to absorbing eco powers and jumping on stuff.

Shovel Knight

Shovel Knight is a 2D action platformer but you can also fish. And you fish for the best kind of fish, money. You can get some other stuff too like health pickups and magic replenishers but we know what you want. You see that little glint and you pop out the fishing rod and pull out those money bags. If you are devoted enough you can even get a surprise from the Troupple King (long live his highness) if you fish out the right stuff. I don’t even know if I fished all that much when I played Shovel Knight but it’s hilarious that you can.

NieR: Automata

I did not play a lot of NieR and that’s because I was fishing. I don’t know why all I did was fish but you throw your little robot in the pond and you lean on a magical stool so honestly it was good enough for me.

Club Penguin

If you know then you know. In hind sight there really wasn’t a whole lot to do in Club Penguin but this mini game really messed me up. You basically get to move up and down, catching fish and avoiding trash and other hazards. Basically trying to do this and catch as much fish as possible to avoid having to ask your parents for real money to pay for snacks to feed a virtual ball of fluff with eyeballs. I don’t really remember how challenging it really was but I remember getting decently high scores to about like 100 fish per round so I guess it was pretty easy if I could do that at age 10.

Rune Factory 4

I’m gonna be very honest about this one and say that the fishing in Rune Factory 4 is basically just Animal Crossing fishing but more anime. The fish react to the pole the same, the fish almost look the same, and the buttons to respond are the same. What makes this one special is where you can take it. You can fish in the little moat in town, in the lake, in a dungeon full of monsters, in a lake that is eternally the season fall, anywhere. You are constricted by the boundaries of Stardew Valley and that is how much energy you have and how much time you have in the day. It’s still fun to fish but I wish that they had used their fun fantasy setting to give the ability to fish up some cool made up fish instead of strictly things that exist in real life.

Xenoblade Chronicles 2

Ok, diving, fishing, same thing. Diving in Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is just fishing with your whole body. It works a lot in the same way as Pokemon where you fish up monsters to fight and get the rewards from them. It is a completely optional activity however if you decide to undertake the grind of scavenging in Xenoblade Chronicles 2 then you will never hurt for money ever again. It makes my wonder why Rex stopped being a salvager to do odd jobs because this was PROFITABLE. The main incentive is that there are spots that spawn a certain enemy that drop cores. Cores are like gacha or loot boxes that contain new anime girl partners that deal huge damage in fights. They even have their own side quests and story lines. I spent maybe 30 hours grinding before giving up on this game and while it does become tiresome I really enjoyed the random rewards of possibly getting a new companion or a really cool weapon.

It’s been tossed around that every great RPG has fishing in it. I won’t argue that point but a lot of great RPGs certainly do have fishing in them. Everyone needs a break sometimes and fishing is the perfect activity to remind us to stop and take that break. Even games can get long and without these distractions it might be so much harder to complete these harrowing tasks. Don’t forget to take breaks and just enjoy the sound of the water every once in a while because there’s no rush playing video games.

Honorable Mentions:

Kingdom Hearts: Sora fishing with his bare hands on Destiny Island

Persona 4: Weird aqueduct fishing

Persona 5: Marina fishing life

Sea of Thieves: A pirates life for me

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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merry go round of life.

ೃ pairing: (magical prince! shoto todoroki x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: howl’s moving castle au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings: slight angst, mention of endeavor and war.

ೃ part 1/2 of the howl’s moving castle au.

ೃ word count: 3,807 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ as the tags and the au suggests, this fic is pretty much the premise of howl’s moving castle except shoto is a magical prince. i’m super excited to complete the rest of this studio ghibli au series and i hope you enjoy reading! ♡

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!) ♡

“Find me in the future!”

The voice of a young woman who he didn’t recognize. Amongst the shooting stars and the demons falling from the night sky.

Tonight was the night.

The grassy plains and the meadows that were surrounding the warm cottage that he called home. The loving home that he, his mother, and his siblings lived in. The home that kept him away from the real world.

Things will never be the same ever again.

This was going to be easy right? All he needed to do was trade his heart for the demon’s power and he’d see his father again right?

He’d finally see the real world. The magical world that he always yearned for.

Being confined in a cottage all his life did leave much to be desired. He couldn’t just run around the lush fields with his older siblings and learn magic through spell books all his life, can he? There were things out there that he had to discover.

Now that his mother had passed, his siblings vanished into thin air, and a letter sent by his father, the tyrant king of the Kingdom of Ingary, detailing that he must learn magic on his twelfth year, in order to secure a position of royalty and rule the land with him.

This intimidating man he had never met all his life, except seeing him on newspapers and in history books, would suddenly write a letter to him out of the blue- it must be urgent right? Maybe, this was his calling? Maybe the passing of his mother is the reason the king, his father, contacted him in the first place? Did the most powerful man in the entire continent know about his whereabouts all along?

Was he living a lie all this time?

Shoto needed answers. The king’s invitation and this letter was his only clue.

But, before that, he needed to learn magic and sorcery first.

He was going to turn 12 in a few month’s time, how is he going to do this? He can’t just snap his fingers and manifest magic on the spot, right?

“A m-meteor shower? I-in a few months?” The handsome young boy with half-and-half colored hair and the prettiest heterochromatic eyes, whispered to himself in disbelief. “Take your chance and meet a fire and ice demon who will give you their magic.” He continues to read along the lines of the tabloid, grabbing a worn notebook on the table next to him, and writing down every piece of information that entailed the phenomenon that was about to come. “It doesn’t say when though.” He continues to whisper to himself, his shoulders dropping in defeat as if he had just hit a slump.

The only hope that he was holding on to right now was his luck guiding him on that fated day.

And it did guide him. At a cost.

The fire and ice demon who were to give him his magical quirks, weren’t all that he had seemed.

In exchange for his humanity, he was to become the most powerful and the only wizard prince in the entire world.

Several years have passed.

The once lost boy, who is now a famed prince, was in search for something again.

The effect of the demon taking his heart had made him soulless. Lifeless.

Clinging on to material things and fake temporary pleasures in life were the only things keeping him going.

The once newly crowned prince had wanted to escape his hellish kingdom, in search for peace and solace, a feeling that he did not experience while living in such a wide and empty space and with an estranged father who knew nothing but war.

His skills of wizardry grew stronger and stronger, expanding to more than just fire and ice; the magic that Calcifer, the demon whom he had made a contract with, bestowed upon him all those years ago. He had collected enough knowledge and learned enough encantations to get him out of this castle, and travel the world by his own blissful means.

Calcifer, the oh so powerful yet surprisingly comical demon helped him with his plans.

And what better way of an escape than with a magical moving castle?

This led to Shoto and Calcifer coming to another agreement that the demon would power the castle as long as Shoto would find someone in this world that would break the contract between them.

The prince and the demon were able to escape the confines of the castle scotch-free, however, it was not long until King Enji realized that the heir and the next in line to the throne, disappeared without a trace. Immediately warranting a search party consisting of his most elite soldiers. This prompted Shoto to adopt different identities and aliases, changing his appearance in every other kingdom he visited and lived in so he wouldn’t be recognized. Along his journey, he took in a sweet orphaned young girl, named Eri who became his assistant and apprentice.

The king was growing impatient. It had been a few years and his men have not found a trace as to where the prince might have gone.

He was running out of options.

He wanted Shoto to excel. To be powerful. He never ever planned to see him or even bothered to send a letter telling him that he was the son of the most powerful king in the land, if the boy did not have anything special about him.

The magical genes passed on to the younger Todoroki by his sorceress mother. That’s all that he wanted. Use him. Use him for his power. Make him a prince, raise him, and then throw him away if he was of no use anymore. His son’s magical prowess was all he needed for his quest to conquer the entire world.

The only option he had left was to choose violence.

The king called up his war council and declared war on the neighboring kingdom.

If nothing was going to bring Shoto back, then conflict will.

With the entire continent falling into shambles, kingdoms fighting each other left and right, the peace and the freedom Shoto Todoroki had always wanted to achieve had become short-lived.

He knew he was the reason why a conflict had arisen in the first place, yet, he couldn’t help but fight his father’s forces behind the scenes, and continue to run away, still seeking for permanent liberty. For a permanent home.

He found his home.

In a simple girl working in her family’s hat shop.

And finally, Shoto had something to live for and to fight for.

“Calcifer!”

“Shoto’s heart! It’s MINE!”

“Please! Let go!” You struggle to fight your way through the igniting fire coming from Calcifer and the ember that was about to consume the Witch of the Waste. Her old and wrinkled hands clutching on Shoto’s heart as if her life depended on it.

The remains of the moving castle continue to crumble, as the only power that was keeping it alive which came from Calcifer had become unstable as the Witch of the Waste was holding Shoto’s heart.

“Put it back now! Please!” You try to fight back your tears, still trying your best to remain kind to the old witch yet she did not budge.

“It’s hot! It’s hot!” She continues to ignore your pleas, reacting to the delicate burning material that was on her hands instead. The grip that she had on Shoto’s heart had grown tighter and tighter and you had to do something to stop her.

Time was ticking.

You look around the rubble and the debris, weighing out your options when a bucket of water had appeared in front of you. It was as if telling you that this was the only decision left to make.

You take a deep breath and throw the bucket of water at the Witch of the Waste which also resulted in Calcifer, the demon who has manifested into a form of a destructive inferno for thousands of years, had been put out just like a regular old fire.

Like it was nothing.

There was a short moment of silence.

Eri was clinging on to you, looking for reassurance your face, yet you could not give her that. You hold her tight to try and help cheer her up just a little bit, while Heen, the old service dog given to Shoto as a gift, had his paws on your feet, as he did not know what was going to happen either.

The castle that was still moving with its last remaining energy, grinds to a halt.

Is this it?

“(Y/N)!” You hear Eri call out. You open your eyes and see her hands trying to reach out to you. But, before you could reach her, the remaining part of the castle that all of you were standing on, split into half due to the lack of non-existent energy powering it.

You feel yourself falling.

Heen, the dog, jumps to you before the latter remains of the castle subsequently falls down the cliffs of the Waste. You brace for impact until… you feel light. As if you’ve landed more comfortably than you thought.

You raise your head to take in your surroundings, aside from the few dirt and rubble sprinkled on your hair and on your dress, you were safe. Heen was safe too although the debris that was left of the castle was not salvageable anymore and there were no means to get out of this place with the few materials left.

It looked like there was no way out of here.

Tears swell in your eyes. All these frustrations and all this pain you had to endure because you wanted to save Shoto, was all for naught. Was there still a chance to save him at this point? Or rather, did you even ever have the slightest chance of saving him since the beginning?

Heen quickly trots all the way to where you were. However, you ignore him and continue to stare off into space, thinking about the careless decision you had just made and if what you did was even the right thing.

He barks softly, trying to get your attention, but you barely move a muscle. Even more tears forming in your eyes.

“Heen.. what h-have I done?” Your voice shakes, still trying to process everything that had just happened. “I poured water on C-calcifer… What if I killed Shoto too!?” You bent forward, kneeling down on the rubble around you. Drops of water began to pour out from your eyes, tears streaming down from your cheeks.

Hopelessness and Uselessness.

These were the only emotions you were feeling right now.

You continue to break down in your sorrow. The thought of doing everything in your power to help Shoto but knowing that nothing was enough aches in your heart.

He doesn’t deserve all this pain and anguish.

All you wanted to do was to help him.

Why was fate doing this to you? To you both?

All hope was lost until a glimmering light reflected on the remains of one of the magical doors still connected to the Castle.

Heen continues to bark at you until you turn your head to him and then notice the light glimmering from your ring. The ring with magical properties that Shoto had given to you, to keep you safe and to help you when things go awry.

“It’s moving?” You wipe your tears and stare bewilderingly at the ring that was vibrating on your finger. “Is Shoto still alive!? Can you lead me to him?” You ask softly, slowly regaining your hope and your confidence that maybe you can still save him.

You stand up from the ground, running to the corner of the cliff. The ring continues to guide you, it’s light reflecting on a door that was hidden behind the debris of an iron sheet that was once a part of the castle.

You push it down with all your might, Heen trying his best to help you. The metal sheet falls down with a loud “thud” and the blue energy emanating from the ring continues to glow brighter and brighter, the light pointing to the direction of the door.

You turn the knob, the ring trembles even harder. You slowly pull the door open and a sudden rush of wind blew across your face. The inside was dark and empty. There was nothing of interest here.

But, why did the ring want you to go inside?

You hold your hand to your chest, letting the ring guide your way through the darkness. You stretch your hand out to the pitch black of nothingness, and it ripples at your touch.

It was a portal.

Of course it was a portal. What else would it be? You thought to yourself.

You take a deep breath and with Heen following close behind you, you take a step into the darkness. Praying that this portal takes you to where you need to be.

You were keeping count of the passage of time. It’s been several minutes of you just walking in darkness. But, even if you turned back, was there even a place to return to? You continue to hold on to the little hope you have left. The ring still doing it’s best to guide you to where it was telling you to go as you continue to explore the endless cave of darkness around you.

The ring starts to quiver again, as if it had caught a signal or had detected something. You walk faster, following where the ring was leading you until you catch site of a speck of blue light. Walking even faster, you arrive at the inside of a dimly lit cottage.

It was old and simple. For some reason, it felt like you’ve seen this place before.

There was a table at the center, with papers and books sprawled about, a bookshelf next to it, a worn bed at the side, and a hearth near the edge of the room.

You approach the table to examine the papers that were placed upon there when the ring suddenly stopped shaking on your finger. Heen was barking at you again, so that you would turn your attention to him and see him scratching the door that led to the outside.

“Heen?” You mumble, looking out the window. You approach the door he was trying to open without taking your eyes off the windowpane that reflected a gloomy and plain image of the night sky outside.

You leave the cottage and suddenly, it dawned on you that this was the cottage that Shoto had lived in when he was a child.

This is the same beautiful place he had taken you a few days prior. Yet, there was a sort of melancholy feeling to it. It felt lonely, barren, and there were no colorful array of flowers in the meadows. It felt like a major downgrade to the wonderful place he had shown you. Was it not true? Were the beautiful flowers and the serene view just an illusion? Was this the reality of the place he had lived in most of his life instead?

Before you could even fully process your surroundings, an array of shooting stars began to fall from the sky. It was burning blue and bright, it was ethereal but at the same time, terrifying. These were demons and magical entities from an otherworldly universe. Seeking to make contracts with human beings who wanted to learn more about magic.

“This is the time where Shoto met Calcifer.” You whisper to yourself, still looking up the bright night sky, taking in the beauty and the wistfulness of this particular event and what happened to Shoto because of it.

You look out into the pools of water surrounding the cottage, the shooting stars falling down into the ground from afar. A shrieking yet soothing sound echoed around the area every time a star fell.

You look up to see an unusual shooting star, shining brighter than the others. You continue to look on in awe until you feel the the ring on your hand quivering again, slowly disintegrating.

You were preoccupied with the ring suddenly disappearing that you had not noticed the big and bright star had already fallen down the ground near you, closer than the others did. The rays of the star reflecting brighter and more scintillating than the others. It was drawing you in, like that of a beautiful phantasm.

You notice someone from afar approaching the star that had fallen.

A young striking boy with half white and half red hair, his eyes shining bright different colored hues and his presence, even from afar, was so comforting to you.

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. The man you want to save, the one who made you feel like yourself again, the one who loved you for who you are even though you transformed into an 80 year old grandma with a back problem. He has loved you in your darkest times. He has loved you for who you are.

Will you be there to love him back? Just like he had loved you?

You continue to watch the boy go around the star, examining it ever so curiously. From there, you feel the emotions that Shoto was feeling at the moment.

You could sense the loneliness and the feeling of isolation that Shoto Todoroki has felt all his life.

“That’s Shoto...” You whisper once again, continuing to watch him from where you were standing.

More and more shooting stars fly through the night sky, and you instinctively knew that something was going to happen.

You run down the stairs and sprint your way towards Shoto, ignoring the stars falling down into the ponds, taking forms of dancing wisps, then changing into running pigmy as if they were trying to reach Shoto.

Shooting stars begin to fall around you, barely missing you yet you continued to run with no care in the world. Saving Shoto was the only thing going on in your head at the moment and nothing will stop you from doing so. Something in the grass had pulled on your heel, causing you to fall and flail on the ground. The half and half prince was a small pond away from you yet a dark oozing liquid was taking a hold of you from below, preventing you from doing so.

Before it fully took a hold of both your feet, You quickly stand up from the ground, stomping your feet then backing away quickly. Another shooting star falls down from the sky, and you watch as it swiftly falls into Shoto’s hands.

The sound of the fallen star shrieks and tingles your ears, and you had no choice but to watch in agony as the little Shoto begins to move his lips, talking to the demon known as Calcifer. He had a small smile on his face as he continued to speak. There was so much hope and innocence in his eyes, he was so excited to receive his magical abilities, blissfully unaware that he was about to make a deal that would be the cost of his humanity and his heart.

All he wanted was to see family and go to places he’s always dreamed of.

Was that too much to ask for?

Shoto slowly but surely, brings the demon into his mouth. There was slight hesitance but he gobbled it up then swallowed it. He felt a tinging pain as he clutches both of his hands to his chest, then coughing up Calcifer who had now become his heart.

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

You continue to look on but before you could try and run to him again...

Your ring shatters.

A black hole appears from below your feet, slowly sucking you in. You try to move but your body doesn’t want to. Keeping you still, your legs swinging, as if you were in a body of water. All the color around you begins to fade to black, and so does Shoto and Calcifer.

You turn to look at them once more, hoping they would hear you. Reaching your hand out to them.

“Shoto! Calcifer!” In a last minute attempt to get them to notice you, You shout with all your might, tears welling up in your eyes again.

The boy and the demon turn to you with doe eyes, catching your voice yet barely recognizing who you were and why you were there. The young Shoto continues to look at you, still wondering who you were, cupping Calcifer in his hands.

“It’s me (Y/N)! I know how to help you now!” Shoto and Calcifer ceaselessly fade away, as you are consumed by the darkness.

“Find me in the future!”

Mundane life and a mundane everyday routine.

Sew some hats, manage the store, hop on the bus, visit your popular sister in the bakery she works in and then head on home.

This was your life.

Did you want it to change? Yes. But, did you have the will and the magical powers to do so? No.

“It’s your life (Y/N). Do something for yourself for once will you?”

The words of your sister will haunt you for the rest of the day. Well, She is right. But, this was your life. It was dull and uneventful. If this was your fate so be it. There was no point in trying to make it interesting at this point right?

You walk back on your usual route to the station, however, you had to rendezvous to another way to the station due to a road block. Guess life wasn’t being kind to your today isn’t it?

You pass by two soldier guards in an alley to the station. They looked bored and had nothing better to do and you had no intention of mingling with them, even if your sister told you to try and talk to more people.

“What a pretty girl. Want us to take you for some tea?” One of the guards attempt to flirt with you, trying to block your way. The other guard snickers at his friend’s tease.

“No. Please leave me alone.” You deadpan. Glaring at them and trying to let them know that they were crossing the line.

“Oh you see. Ya scared her!” said the other guard, nudging his friend.

“I think she’s even cuter when she’s scared.” The guard replied, hitting his friend on the shoulder.

You were about to run to the other direction when you hear a crisp and handsome voice from behind you, and a reassuring hand on your arm.

“There you are sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.”

To be continued.

211 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 43 - Crazy

You’d been with your share of women who liked rough sex - Seulgi, Chaeyoung, occasionally Momo and Seolhyun. But those girls had always been interested in kinks that were at least somewhat consistent with their personalities. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Seulgi was into rough, occasionally painful sex; likewise, Chaeyoung’s preference for zip ties and name calling didn’t strike you as being out of character with the type of person she was outside of the bedroom.

Miyawaki Sakura was either lazy and airheaded or intense and intimidating, depending on what she was doing. Before you were made aware of this new facet of Sakura’s personality you’d only seen such duality before in Sana; but Sana’s personality swings didn’t surprise you like Sakura’s did, nor was the difference between her two poles nearly as extreme as that of the Japanese police officer.

Sakura was altogether different from those girls. She was two sides of the same constantly flipping coin, it seemed. At the moment you were finding out that this duality extended to her sexual pursuits, where she flipped between being an overly friendly, sugary sweet girl to a woman with very specific, very unique kinks on a minute-by-minute basis.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” she states, the tone in her voice sounding much more pleasant than earlier in the day, especially as it echoed against the cold shower tiles. “I was in the middle of re-reading the Fate series. Did you know the third movie is coming out this summer? I’m sooo looking forward to it. Are you familiar with the Fate series?”

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“She’s going away for awhile, don’t you worry.”

“She better be,” you answer. “I just hope she leads us to the other three members of Blackpink before they lock her up - or that Canadian officer takes her overseas. Did you have a chat with Officer Miyawaki about this?”

“I’ve told her we want time with Rose before she’s extradited and Officer Miyawaki has promised to raise the issue with her superiors, but she hasn’t quite gotten around to it yet,” Nayeon answers.

You both peer into the interrogation room through the one-way glass. On one side of the table sits Rose, her head in her hands. In her prisoner’s jumpsuit and messy hair, she looked outright miserable - a far cry from the dolled up look she sported at the event two days prior. Gone is the haughty, arrogant air that she wore about her like perfume - now she looked small, afraid, almost as if the cold reality of what was about to happen to her had just recently set in.

She hadn’t said a word since she stepped into the room. The young, nervous looking YG-appointed lawyer seated next to her rebuffed all of the questions directed to her client by telling her that she didn’t have to answer anything, as was her right. Rose’s body language, though, told you all you needed to know about her state of mind.

On the other side of the table are Jihyo and Somi Douma, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer who had arrested Rose at the event. Both of them are placing piece after piece of evidence onto the table in an attempt to get something out of the Blackpink member - to no avail so far, thanks to her lawyer. The looks of frustration on the two young officers has been steadily building, but it is tempered somewhat by the fact that much of the evidence was simply indisputable. Rose’s silence today would do nothing to keep her from spending a lot of time behind bars when the time came.

The other two occupants of the room, sitting in a smaller table by the exit, are Mina and Officer Miyawaki. The former is diligently jotting down notes from the meeting into an iPad, the latter seemingly engaged in something important on her phone - but given her known predisposition for playing video games on the job and the fact that her phone was horizontal, you decided she was likely playing a game.

“Sakura was super intense at the event,” Nayeon says, as if reading your thoughts regarding the young Japanese police officer. “When she showed up with Jihyo and Somi to arrest Rose, she had her game face on. It was almost scary. She wanted to see layouts of the building, possible exits and escape routes, dossiers on who might be there and who they might be with. She looked ready to take down every bad guy in the entire restaurant, all on her own.”

“I saw,” you agree. “She walked in there like she owned the place. Rose’s bodyguard tried to stop her, but whatever she said to him made him look like a whipped dog afterward. She destroyed that guy.”

“And now here she is at a major interrogation involving multiple international parties and she’s on her phone playing Among Us,” Nayeon scoffs. “It’s like she has an on and off switch when it comes to her job. I don’t get it. To be honest, I find it a little odd that the precinct would bury someone with her on-site skills in the record keeping department and not out in the field walking a beat.”

You take a moment to consider Nayeon’s point. She was right; surely the Tokyo PD could make better use of Sakura by constantly keeping her in the field, where she clearly excelled, instead of the records department where she was buried under paperwork she had little interest in. There had to be a reason behind it all, but you currently had more pressing issues on your mind than the Japanese liaison officer’s career prospects.

“We need to make sure she gets us that time with Rose. Preferably without her lawyer present.”

“That would be against the rules,” Nayeon says, hesitantly. She knew what you were implying and while she knew you weren’t going to hurt Rose or do anything stupid, she felt she had to tell you anyway out of obligation.

“There’s nothing illegal about me having a chat with a lovely young Australian woman I met at an event a few nights ago,” you reply with a sly smile.

Nayeon smirks, but understands your implication. “I’ll remind Officer Miyawaki,” she says.

In the room, Sakura lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes back into her head - her spaceman was likely just bitten in half by an impostor. Next to her, Mina frowns and shakes her head, a look of plain disapproval on her face.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll remind her myself.”

---

It didn’t take long to find Sakura later that day. She was absent from her desk, but a nearby colleague told you she was on her lunch hour - even though at that point it was nearly three in the afternoon. While your time with Nayeon and Jihyo had informed you that law enforcement officers saw lunch breaks as a rare luxury, you also knew that Sakura didn’t conform to the usual expectations of this particular line of work. With your limited Japanese and a healthy amount of hand gestures, you were able to ascertain from her colleague that she usually took her lunch breaks on the roof of the building.

The precinct proved to be a little bit of a maze, but you eventually found your way to the roof, which, like many buildings in Asia, was open to access and was often used as a kind of recreational space for the building’s inhabitants. After your time inside the cramped interior of the building you were happy to be outside again, enjoying the fresh air and the sunny, crisp winter afternoon.

Sitting on a bench in one of the corners of the space was Sakura, legs crossed, her nose buried in what looked like a manga. The small pile of convenience store sandwich containers and empty candy wrappers that occupied the rest of the bench confirmed that she was indeed on her lunch break. The volume of the trash, however, implied she’d been there awhile, leading you to wonder just how long her lunch “hours” usually lasted.

“Officer Miyawaki,” you say as you approach her, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if-”

You are stopped mid-sentence by a raised finger. Without taking her attention from the manga, Sakura reaches for a half-full bottle of Pocari Sweat next to her on the bench, which she brings to her mouth to take a sip. Eyes working quickly, she finishes the page she was reading before turning the page and devouring that one as well. With brows furrowed and eyes narrowed with concentration, there is a clear look of complete and utter intensity on her face that you’d seen only once before - when she was confronting Rose’s bodyguard and putting him in his place.

When you’d first been introduced to Miyawaki Sakura you’d wondered just how she had managed to keep her job given her obvious laziness and what seemed to be an utter lack of interest in her duties - or even in maintaining the false appearance of an interest. But her role in the events of two nights prior, and the seriousness with which she carried herself while on-site, answered that question for you. It became clear that her superiors kept her around because when the chips were down and the game was on, she could put on a game face that almost scared you with its intensity. When that happened, she was almost a different person entirely.

The question then became why her superiors had assigned her to the record keeping department. Was it a demotion? Did they think she was too unstable or unreliable for field work? There had to be a reason.

She goes on for three more pages, consuming the art and text within the manga like they were some sort of life-giving energy source that she could not go a moment more without. You are left to stand there, awkwardly, a little taken aback by the speed and ease at which she had silenced you - but unconsciously, a little afraid of what might happen if you’d insisted on interrupting her reading.

Finally, after reaching what seemed to be a chapter’s conclusion or some other boundary within the manga, she retrieves a bookmark from her bench and marks her place before finally acknowledging your presence.

“Yes?” she says, a look of undisguised annoyance on her otherwise soft, adorable features.

“I, well, I was… um, hoping we could have a quick moment of your time, Officer Miyawaki,” you answer, suddenly unsure of your words, your tongue having turned into stone in your mouth. You’d expected a fast and easy chat - you usually had no problems charming your share of pretty young women - but your resolve had faltered unexpectedly under the piercing gaze of the young officer.

“About?” she asks, plainly, even though you knew what you wanted to talk about must have been obvious to her. What else could it have been, if not Rose? Did she just want to hear you ask for something? Did she want to hear you beg and grovel?

“About the girl, uh, the woman that Officer Dou- I mean, you, you placed in your custody a couple of nights ago,” you answer.

“Yes, and, what about her?”

“I was hoping I could have a chat- er, maybe, some time, with her. Alone, before she, they, she’s, well... taken away.”

“And what would you want to speak to her about?”

“Well, you see, um…. we’re kind of after her colleagues - three of them. They’re in this team, er, corporate espionage group - they’re called Blackpink. I, well, me, my team and I, we were hoping she could lead us to the other three.”

Sakura takes a moment to weigh your request, her large, deep eyes boring into yours. You were a little ashamed to admit you were faltering a little bit under the intensity of her gaze. While you were sure her current demeanor was borne from you so rudely interrupting her reading and not from any malicious intent, it did little to keep you from withering under her look.

Eventually Sakura’s eyes leave you, and you find yourself releasing an inward sigh of relief to be free of her gaze.

“I can arrange something,” she says as she opens her manga again. “But it will cost you. Helping you and that foreign officer during that arrest resulted in a lot of extra paperwork for me.”

You are about to say something about her job and the amount of work she actually had to do, especially given the fact that she was in the middle of what seemed to be a three hour lunch break, but an unconscious fear of being put under her gaze once more meant that your response died in your throat.

“What exactly… can I do f-for you, Officer Miyawaki?”

“Sakura is fine,” she says under her breath as she finds her place in her manga. “Meet me in the precinct showers in two hours. Cancel any appointments you may have this afternoon.”

You are left a little stunned by her demand, and what it might have meant. The possibilities run through your mind at a million miles an hour; what did she mean-

“You can leave,” Sakura states, and not wanting to risk her ire by lingering any longer, you quickly turn and leave.

---

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“Ah, that’s good!” Sakura exclaims, “I’m such a big fan. I totally ship Shirou and Saber, although I’m also a fan of Shirou and Sakura - I bet you can guess why! I like both couples, though; it really depends on what mood I’m in! Sometimes I- whoops, is that too tight for you?”

It was. The girl knew how to tie a neat, tight knot (which itself raised several questions) and the thick nylon rope dug painfully into your wrists as she tied them behind your back, but you gave your head a shake nonetheless. The black cloth blindfold she’d tied around your head was similarly a little too tight for comfort and was beginning to give you a headache - not that you were willing, or even able, to tell Sakura as such.

Even if you could speak, you weren’t sure you would stop her from proceeding. You were equal parts terrified and aroused by the sharp, unexpected turn of events this afternoon had taken, but the thought of stopping the young woman hadn’t yet occurred to you.

“Good, I don’t want to hurt you. Anyway, yeah, I’m sorry if I came off rude this afternoon. I just don’t like to be interrupted during my lunch hour. That’s when I get all my reading done! Because the rest of the day I’m so busy with work, you see. Anyway… you’re all set!”

You obviously couldn’t see her through the blindfold, but the loud click-clack of Sakura’s high-heeled shoes against the shower tiles tell you she has stepped in front of you. The next few moments of silence provide no audible clue to tell you what she is doing, but you knew she was likely giving you a good long look from head to toe, as if enjoying the sight of you sitting on a stool, gagged, bound, and blindfolded.

“It’s time to begin, I think. Are you ready?”

Her tone reminded you a little bit of any of a hundred anime voice actors, particularly those that voiced the sugary sweet and cute characters. And Sakura was nothing if not cute, although she also seemed to have a bit of a crazy side to her - a side it seemed you were about to get to know intimately, whether you were ready for it or not.

You nod, because there wasn’t much else you could do.

“Good! Let’s start!” she says, sounding a bit like an announcer for a game that involved Italian plumbers and dragon/turtle hybrids racing go-karts - and not like she was about to engage in a sexual act with very particular, very specific kinks.

So when she straddles you on the stool, her long, thin legs suddenly on either side of your waist and her small frame atop your lap, you were a little unsure about how to react to the juxtaposition between her tone and her actions. With other women you would have enjoyed the weight of her body on top of yours and the promise of impending pleasure. But with Sakura you were a little hesitant - and as much as you hated to admit it, almost a little afraid.

“So as I mentioned earlier, I’d be happy to set up a meeting with you and that Australian chick,” she says, her voice dripping with sugar even as you feel her trace random patterns with her fingertip on your jawline and chin. “But I’ll need to get something out of it.”

You are unable to manage anything more than a muffled groan, and so you settle for nodding your head once more.

“Good.”

Sakura’s hand drifts lower, her fingertip never breaking contact with you as it drifts down your neck and chest, eventually reaching the buckle of the jeans you wore. Her fingers work quickly, and before you know it she has your button undone and the zipper lowered, your quickly hardening shaft aching for its impending release from its cotton prison.

“Oh! You are quite eager for us to begin, I see.”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s see what you’re hiding under here.”

Sakura’s tone continues to be that of a cute, sweet girl. Her actions, as she frees your nearly fully hardened shaft from your boxers, are altogether the opposite.

You feel the breath leave your lungs in a rush as she grasps your cock in her small, dainty little hands for the first time and gives it a few small, exploratory pumps. It would have been utterly arousing at any other time. But now, wrists bound behind you and with your eyes and mouth rendered useless, it almost felt like your sense of touch was heightened - and it felt utterly sublime. It wasn’t long before you the Japanese police officer had brought you to full, aching stiffness.

“I see now why your team is full of those women,” she observes, a slight hint of edge appearing in her tone. “I bet they love taking turns being filled with this.”

“Mmmghmm,” you answer.

“What’s that? You fuck them on a daily basis? I bet you pump their thirsty mouths and wet little pussies just full of your cum on the regular, don’t you? Maybe those tight little asses too?”

“Yughhhm.”

“I bet they love it, too, don’t they? I bet you have them all bent to your will like the obedient, needy little fucktoys that they are. Is that right?”

“Mmmahghg.”

“I knew it. I knew all of those girls were filthy little sluts the second I saw them.”

To hear such filth come out of Sakura’s mouth - out of a girl whom you’d pegged as being adorable and cute if a little airheaded and lazy - was more than a little bewildering. Each of her words dripped with sweet sugar tone even if the actual content of her words was dirty and nasty. Two sides of the same coin. Two faces of the same girl.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to play a game. Do you want to play a game?”

For a second you are frozen as a shiver of fear crawls up your spine - you’d seen enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever followed that question. But you had to admit that it both frightened and aroused you. Part of you wanted to submit to her every whim, and part of you suddenly wanted to run away as quickly as you could.

You nod.

“Good! I’m happy. Let’s lay down the rules. Hmmm… well, there’s actually only two! Are you ready for them? Are you paying attention?”

It was a little difficult to do so, truth be told. She hadn’t stopped pumping your cock, at an almost lazy pace, with her slender, soft hands. She had begun to squeeze on the downstroke and loosen on the upstroke, causing a delicious little jolt of pleasure to shoot right to your brain every few seconds.

You nod.

“Okay! Rule number one - every time you make me cum, I remove one item of your choice: your blindfold, your gag, or the ties at your wrists. How much time I give you with the Australian girl depends on how good you fuck, I guess! I’ll make the judgement at the end. Rule number two - you don’t get to say anything aside from a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Pretty simple, huh? You understand the rules, right?”

Despite laying down the ground rules for what would likely be a filthy sexual act, Sakura sounds a bit like a voice actor reading the script to the tutorial level of a Mario Party game. The prospect of regaining your ability to see, touch and taste her was appealing, and with the ball gag filling your mouth you couldn’t exactly voice any objections to her rules even if you had any.

You nod.

“Good! Then let’s begin!”

Without giving you much time to ready yourself, Sakura presses her body forward on your lap - and almost immediately you feel the wet heat of her pussy pressed against the base of your shaft.

Before she put the blindfold on you, the police officer had been wearing a short blue skirt and black heels along with the blue blouse that formed her uniform. Had she removed her panties somewhere along the way? Was she ever wearing panties at all?

Your brain had little time or bandwidth to answer those questions - not as Miyawaki Sakura began to grind herself against the underside of your cock, her hips swirling up and down, finding and trapping your shaft between the splayed lips of her pussy and moving, slowly at first, up and down its length. She is absolutely dripping. Her flesh is hot and warm against your cock. Were your mouth not gagged, you would have let out a long, wordless moan - but it escapes your throat as a wet, guttural sound instead.

Sakura, her own mouth unbound, lets the first outward sign of her arousal escape her lips in a long, drawn-out gasp. The entire process - binding you, teasing you, explaining her rules to you - must have turned her on immensely. The slick, warm juices that coated your cock in a thick, glistening layer with each grind of her hips were clear indication of how turned on she was. You found yourself impressed that she was able to hide her need for so long behind her sickly sweet tone.

“Mmmm, that feels so good!” she gasps. “Mmm, you’re so big, and you’re not even inside me yet!”

You nod.

And so for a few delicious minutes you are content to let the small Japanese girl grind herself harder and harder against your cock, her slick, hot pussy pressed against the underside of your shaft, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. The small shower room reverberates with the soft squeaking of your stool on the tiles, and the soft, pleasant moans of pleasure that leave Sakura’s throat.

“Mmm, fuck, I’m gonna cum already, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quickly, mmmmm, your cock is so hard! Do you like the feel of my pussy? The feel of my clit on your cock? Hmmm? Do you want to be inside me?”

You nod.

You are surprised by how quickly she was coming to her first orgasm, even if the heat emanating from her splayed pussy lips as she grinds them against you, combined with the sheer amount of the juices that were now running down your balls, clearly indicated how needy and wanton she was even before she first touched you.

“D-Do you want me… oh, fuck… do you want me to-to cum all over your hard cock?”

You nod.

Sakura’s response is to orgasm.

You’d been with plenty of women before, witnessed the many forms of the female orgasm and the differences in the bodies of each woman when she finally reaches her peak. Each was unique. But even given that fact, you knew that no other woman on Earth orgasmed like Miyawaki Sakura did.

She felt a little bit like she was being jolted with electricity - every fibre of her being quivered and shook like she had a thousand volts coursing through her veins. It was almost unnerving, in a way, and from the way her small body trembled atop yours you were worried that she had hurt herself somehow.

Even the way she orgasmed was far from the norm. The more you knew about Miyawaki Sakura, the more and more you were frightened of her.

But the same things that frightened you also aroused you.

It seems to last forever, her orgasm. When her body finally winds down, the loud breaths that leave her throat and the fact that she has slumped forward onto your chest imply that she is somewhat drained by the experience.

“That was pretty good!” Sakura exclaims once she has regained her energy, sounding once more like she were some sort of video game announcer. “As per the rules of our game, you get to remove one item. What would you like it to be?”

Your options run though your head, each with their own merits. You would’ve loved to finally lay your hands on the young woman, and the thought of watching her cum obviously appealed to you, but the opportunity to taste her won out.

“Mowwffth,” you manage to mumble.

“Your mouth? You want to get rid of the gag? Are you sure?” Sakura asks, sounding the way a video game does when you decide to overwrite a game save and it wants you to be sure of your decision.

You nod.

“Okay! Away it goes!”

Sakura reaches behind your head and you feel the ball gag loosen before she rips it none-too-gently from your mouth. A drip of saliva spills from your mouth - one that Sakura is quick to lick off your chin with her tongue.

Her tongue, feeling long and particularly flexible, traces a path up your chin until it finds your lips. She crushes your lips with hers in a torrid, passionate kiss that had little affection but plenty of need, her hands quickly reaching behind your blindfolded head and pressing your head against hers as she sticks her tongue as far into your mouth as she could. Your tongue wrestles with hers, but she quickly gains the upper hand, and it is all you can do to sit there and submit to letting the young woman explore your mouth at her whim.

When she finally tears her lips from yours she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Mmmm, that was a good choice. You’re a good kisser! And it will definitely help you when it comes to the next way you’re going to make me cum. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, finally happy to be able to speak.

“Good. Get ready!”

Sakura climbs off your lap, and you lament the loss of her warm body for a split second - until you hear the snap of her foot meeting the stool you were sitting on, followed by a sharp thud of your butt hitting the floor as she kicks the stool out from under you.

You are about to groan in pain at your hard, unexpected landing, about to protest at the way she was treating you - when you hear Sakura step over your body, her crotch just inches from your face. She must have been lifting her skirt to get it out of the way, because when she presses herself against you, you find yourself face to face with her pussy.

There was no doubt in your mind now. Miyawaki Sakura was crazy.

But you weren’t in a position to complain, not with the girl’s juicy, slick, hot pussy suddenly and fiercely pressed against your face, her splayed lips immediately smearing your nose, lips and chin with her juices. By instinct your tongue darts out, almost like a defensive measure. You begin to lick her slowly, hesitantly, still caught a little wrong footed by her ridiculous aggressiveness - but Sakura was having none of that, and she quickly grasps the back of your scalp with one hand and presses it against her warm, wet folds.

“You can do better than that,” she says, her tone still that of the video game announcer, as though she were encouraging a kart racer who had fallen behind. “Eat my pussy like the hungry little fucktoy you are.”

You follow her orders, as much out of fear of upsetting her as the need to finally have your fill of the needy young woman’s body. You start by giving her long, slow licks from the bottom of her pussy to the top, ensuring to add a little swirl of the tip of your tongue around her engorged clit as you reach it. Sakura moans in pleasure as you drink of her, enjoying the pleasant, sweet bitterness of the girl’s plentiful juices on your tongue.

When you decide that the steadily rising volume of her moans and gasps, enhanced by the echoing off the shower room’s tiled walls, has reached a high point, you quickly switch up your technique, latching your lips as best you could around her clit before swiping at it in broad, strong strokes with your tongue. You begin with strokes that begin and the bottom and end at the top. When she begins to quiver and shake, you begin to trace random patterns around her taut little bud.

“You’re doing so great!” Sakura moans, “I’ve never felt anything like that!”

You are almost annoyed now with her tone of voice - not that you were in a position to complain, not while her wet, slick lips were sweet upon your tongue and lips. You continue to swipe at her clit with your tongue, using the flat of it now to ensure maximum contact with the taut bud. Sakura begins to grind her hips against you, almost crushing her pussy against your face in an effort to draw every ounce of pleasure from your tongue as she could.

What a sight it would have been for anyone walking into the precinct showers at that moment. A man sitting on the floor, blindfolded and with hands bound behind his back, while Miyawaki Sakura stood over him, one hand pulling her skirt up and another gripping the back of his skull, pressing his helpless face against the wet, slick lips of her pussy.

Sakura grinds her face against you. You almost struggle to breathe - every time you come up for air, she presses you against the hot, slick flesh of her pussy with the hand grasping the back of your scalp. It was frightening. It was almost too much to handle. But it was also intensely, perversely arousing.

“Ah, stop, I need you inside me right now,” she snaps - the first time she’d broken her tone and shown the slightest hint of losing her composure. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck yes, Sakura. I want-”

Sakura silences you with a raised finger to your lips, just as she did earlier that afternoon on the rooftop.

“Just a yes or no, remember?”

“Y...yes,” you answer, suitably chastised.

“Good. Now sit there and be a good little cock for me to fuck.”

Sakura drops to her knees, straddling you once more. With your hands still bound behind your back you are unable to lie back fully, and so you settle into a sitting position as she sits on your lap. You would’ve given anything to get your hands on her hips, particularly as she adjusted herself for penetration - but you had to admit, not being able to see her or touch her beyond what she allowed your mouth and hips to do only heightened the intensity of your other senses.

She wastes no time. You felt her slim fingers on your cock for a moment, aligning your tip with her entrance, before she drops her hips and takes you inside her for the first time.

You both sigh out loud - loud, breathy sounds that echo off the tile surrounding you. Sakura gasps as you fill her completely, your crotches finally meeting as she fills herself with your stiff shaft for the first time. For a second you regret your choice to free your mouth and wish you’d freed your arms instead, as it would have allowed you to lie on your back and thus let Sakura penetrate herself more deeply - not that you were actually upset at being finally inside the needy, mewling young police officer.

“Oh my,” Sakura sighs, “you’re so fucking big inside me! Now I see, ohh! I see why those other girls keep you around! But now it’s my turn. My turn to use you as a fucktoy. Do you like being a fucktoy for me? Do you like being nothing more than a toy cock for me to fuck myself with?”

You want to argue with her, put her in her place, spit the same vulgarities and names right back at her. But there is a sharp, edgy undertone to Miyawaki Sakura, a kind of fierceness that made you fear what would happen if you did.

You decide to let her have her way - for now at least.

“Yes.”

“Good! Then get ready!”

Any misgivings you may have had about Sakura, about her double-sided personality, about her lack of professionalism when off-site and intimidating intensity when actually in the field, even about the way she spoke so casually and vulgarly about your relationship with your team - they all flew right out the window as she began to ride you. Every muscle in her small, lean body seemed devoted to driving your stiff shaft in and out of her body, each of her movements propelling her up and down as fast and hard as she was able.

For all her faults and almost frightening instability, Miyawaki Sakura knew how to ride a cock.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of build up to the way Sakura rode you. It was all you could do to grit your teeth and attempt to stay upright as her tight, lithe body rocked up and down, threatening to tip you over and onto your back, which, given your bound hands, would have been quite uncomfortable. Thankfully Sakura quickly grips onto your shoulders, helping keep you upright as she used them for more leverage, driving you in and out of the hot, wet flesh between her legs again and again.

“Oh, oh fuck, you’re so fucking big!” Sakura moans, seemingly barely able to turn her thoughts into words before she abandons the thought of speaking altogether, relying instead on a wordless string of gasps and sighs to articulate the pleasure coursing through her veins.

You grit your teeth, relishing the feel of her tight heat wrapped around your cock as she continued to ride you with fierce abandon on the shower floor. Eager to do something more than merely hold on, you lean forward, searching for and then finding her upper chest, pressing your lips against the small patch of exposed skin at the top of her blouse.

Sakura catches on to what you were doing, and the next thing you hear is the sound of buttons ripping from fabric as she quite literally tears the blouse open.

Were any other girl to rip open a button up shirt to give you access to her chest, you would have been surprised with her recklessness - but with Sakura it was simply par for the course.

Your hungry lips press themselves against the newly revealed skin of her upper chest, greedly pressing against her pale, vanilla skin, licking and kissing and tasting. Soon you find her neck, latching onto the warmth you find there, sucking hard enough to bruise her and leave marks on her otherwise perfect skin. Sakura hugs you tightly against her body, not lowering her pace at all, still riding you fiercely, her hips not ceasing for a moment in their desire to fill herself over and over again with stiff, hard cock.

The minutes pass as the tiny little police officer fucks herself on your stiff cock, the small shower space filled with your wordless moans and the wet slap of flesh hitting flesh.

The entire experience was torrid, fierce, intense. Sakura was so unpredictable, so unreadable - and that was even not counting the fact that you were blindfolded or had your hands bound. Her personality seemed to flip from moment to moment, and while a part of you missed the stability and predictability of your other partners, you would have been lying if you had said Sakura’s sheer craziness didn’t also turn you on in its own unique, special way.

When Sakura cums, her body turning into the same shaking, quivering mess she was when she came the first time, you are thankful - because you were close behind. Her flesh tightens and pulsates around you even more than you’d thought possible.

“I’m gonna cum, Sakura,” you hiss, forsaking for a moment her rule to limit your speaking to simple yesses or nos, and being thankful she was so far lost in the pleasure overtaking her senses that she was unable to pick up on that particular rule violation.

“Fucking fill my tight little pussy with your hot cum, you little fucktoy!”

Helpless to do much else, you allow yourself to finally fall over the edge, letting a deep, low groan escape your throat as your cock spasms and begins to spurt thick, hot cum inside the still-quivering Japanese girl’s wet, slick pussy. Even as your cock fills her with semen Sakura doesn’t stop, still riding you fiercely, still impaling herself with what was left of her energy, pushing your cum even deeper inside of herself with each thrust of your spasming cock.

It’s almost painful the way she slams her entire weight onto your crotch and the cold, unforgiving floor beneath it. You would’ve given anything to just hold her down by her hips and savor the feeling of your orgasm, the feeling of filling a young woman’s pussy with your cum for the first time. But what you wanted didn’t matter. You were in no position to tell her what you wanted, and she probably wouldn’t have cared even if you were.

When she finally stops it is almost a mercy. You are drained of energy like you’d never been before - utterly physically and mentally spent. Your cock still embedded hilt deep inside her, she reaches up and finally slips the blindfold from your eyes. You spend a few seconds blinking rapidly, your eyes unused to the sudden brightness.

“That was a great job! You have one hour with Rose,” she says, her face bright and cheerful, as though she were congratulating the first place kart racer and wasn’t currently impaled with a recently orgasmed cock, filled to the brim with its fresh, hot semen. She grabs you fiercely by the skull and gives you a final, fierce kiss.

“Will an hour be enough?” she asks when she finally tears her lips from yours. Able to see now, you lock eyes with her, and while her eyes are large and bright, you notice now that they are laced with more than a little crazy, brimming just below the surface.

It occurred to you at that moment just why Miyawaki Sakura had been buried in the records department of her precinct by her superiors.

She was a little crazy.

Too spent to come up with anything resembling a verbal response, you resort to following her rules once more.

You nod.

---

“I’m sure Officers Park and Douma have informed you of the charges that will be brought against you, and that your lawyer has conveyed the gravity of the situation you’re in,” Momo states, matter-of-factly. “The evidence is indisputable. Your future doesn’t look bright, Rose.”

“I’m aware that I’m fucked, yes,” Rose replies, making a dismissive gesture with her hands from the interrogation room’s table, where they are handcuffed to the thick metal bar in the middle of it. She had appeared to become even more of a mess since you saw her last at yesterday’s interrogation, with darker bags under her eyes and frazzled, messy hair. “So if I’m as screwed as you say I am, then why are you still here? Come to gloat, have you?”

“You’re here because we want to offer you something,” Momo answers.

“You? Offer me something? Hah! Unless it’s a ticket that lets me walk out that door a free woman then I’m not interested. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

Momo leans back in her chair. She had predicted that Rose would react the way she did during your preparation for this meeting. It was almost as if she had written a script for it - and it was your turn to speak your lines.

“Revenge,” you state, leaning forward on the table.

“Revenge? The fuck do you mean by that?”

“Let me ask you, Rose: how do you think we knew you’d be at that event a few days ago?”

“I dunno. Fucking cops have probably been tailing me from the second I touched down,” she spits with a dirty look towards the one-way glass, even if you knew there was no one on the other side. Sakura had made sure this conversation was strictly off the record.

“Nope. It’s because we received a tip - from one of your friends in Blackpink.”

Rose is unable to hide her reaction, her eyes going wide with surprise.

“You’re fucking lying. Why the hell would they give me up like that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you answer. “Maybe you pissed one of them off. Maybe they decided they didn’t need you anymore, getting caught doing shit overseas while they did the real hard work here in Japan and Korea. I don’t care. But if you help us find them, then maybe we can make sure they’re just as fucked as you are. If you’re especially helpful, maybe we recommend a lighter sentence for you.”

“You want me to rat on them? Give up my team?”

“Yes,” Momo answers. “Remember - it’s because of them that you’re going to be behind bars for a very long time, while they’re out there free as can be, living the life. This is your chance to take them down with you.”

“You must have had a safehouse or a base of operations here in Japan,” you add. “Give us the location of that base and we’ll make sure we take them down, without them being any the wiser that it was you who gave up their location.”

Rose bites her lip, staring intently at her own hands as she weighs her admittedly small range of options.

“If I give them up, you get me a lighter sentence? That’s it?”

“That’s part of it,” you answer, as Momo retrieves mugshots of the two Red Velvet members and from her briefcase and places them on the table. “We’re also tracking two fugitives from Korea that you might have heard of - Kang Seulgi and Kim Yerim. Do you or anyone in Blackpink know anything about them?”

Rose takes a quick glance at both photos, but there is no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“No, I don’t know either of those two. If it’s Koreans you’re looking for you’d best speak to the others. All my work was done overseas, as illustrated by your giant pile of indisputable evidence.”

Momo gathers the mugshots before taking a pad of paper and a pen from her briefcase and places them in front of Rose.

“We need you to write down the location of Blackpink’s safehouse,” she states.

Rose takes a last moment of thought before she reaches for the pen.

“I want your word that I’ll get a lighter sentence for this. And that they’ll never know it was me that gave them up.”

“You have it. We can’t guarantee that the judge will honor our request, but I promise you they’ll be aware of your cooperation,” Momo replies.

Rose scribbles an address down on the pad of paper before sliding it across the table to Momo. Momo takes out her phone and opens her map app to confirm its validity. Satisfied, she gives you a nod.

“You’ve made the right decision,” you tell Rose as you stand up and get ready to leave. Momo packs up her things and follows closely behind.

“Throw those bitches into a hole and let them rot,” Rose hisses as you leave the room.

In the outside hallway, Sakura, wearing a garishly pink hoodie now given that she’d torn the buttons off her uniform blouse earlier that afternoon, raises her head from her phone as she notices you and Momo have left the room. Giving Momo a polite, cheerful smile and shooting you a suggestive wink, she enters the interrogation room, presumably to return Rose to her cell.

Also waiting in the hallway, sitting on a bench, are Nayeon and a third woman, who begins to speak as soon as Sakura has closed the door to the interrogation room.

“Did she believe it? That it was Blackpink that gave her up?”

“Yes, you answer.”

“You got the location of their safehouse?”

“Yes.”

“What about Seulgi and Yeri? Did she know where they are?”

“No. I’m sorry, Irene.”

There is a flash of something resembling sadness and disappointment in Irene’s features. It is short and fleeting, but unmistakable. Soon it is replaced with the look of quiet determination that she had worn since the moment she’d joined you in Japan.

She rises from her seat. The short leggings she was wearing did little to hide the bulky tracking device around her ankle, but at least now her hands were free of the handcuffs she had on the last time you saw her.

“Understood. Let’s go - we have work to do.”

---

Author’s Note: Not my best work, I know, but I just wanted to get across how wild (in a good way) Sakura was during sex and I found it kind of difficult to get across that she was good crazy but not insane lol. Not sure how well I did or how clear everything came across as I’d never written anyone quite like her with those kinks. I always want to try writing new things and improving my writing, though. Let me know what you think. :)

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