#And the other 5% of the time it's a form of humiliation because imagine being fucked by a dick or sucking one or just being with a man

[pathofreason]

If I like women who look like stereotypical masculine af men am I still a lesbian. Bc idgaf what your gender is or what's between your legs I gaf if you're hot sometimes hot people look like stereotypical women sometimes they look like stereotypical men. Should I just kms

[shootybangbang]

The Upsides of Property Damage [Part 4/5]

Authored by @verai-marcel and @shootybangbang

[Ao3 link]

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Mature

[Content Advisory]: light D/S undertones

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[Author's Note]: Thank you guys so, so much for your patience, and so sorry for the delay! Most of chapter 5 has been completed and should be out soon. If you want to be notified when that comes out, go ahead and leave a comment down below and I'll make a taglist or something.

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The maintenance request form states: [Please give a brief description of the problem.]

for the past few days i've been so fixated on fucking the maintenance man that i've been having difficulty accomplishing basic tasks because every time i try to concentrate on anything even remotely meaningful all i can think about is him saying "maybe you just enjoy my company" and if this keeps up i'm fairly certain that i'm going to actually get fired from my job so clearly i need to either get laid or get evicted

This statement makes you look certifiably insane. It’s not even a request– it’s a confession . Sending this would be tantamount to seating yourself beside the grated window of a church booth and asking its captive priest whether he’d prefer you spit or swallow.

More importantly, it also exceeds the text box’s 250 character limit. You rapidly tap the delete key until the entire obscene paragraph disappears. Then you try again. 

broken cabinet.

Hmm. Lacks an element of genuine contrition.

broken cabinet. sorry. :’(

[Your service request has been logged. Please allow up to one standard business day for a response.]

You glance at the time displayed on the microwave’s grease-spattered screen. 4:36PM. Morgan’s probably already packed up for the day– and taking normal operating hours into account, the earliest he could possibly show up tomorrow would be 9AM… which gives you at least sixteen hours to emotionally prepare yourself to confront him.

Morosely, you drag yourself out of your kitchen chair to pour yourself a glass of sparkling water. So this is what I’ve sunk to . Using service requests as a means of personal summons for the hot repairman. Pathetic. Shameful. And 100% necessary for the preservation of your sanity.

How many times have you pictured it now? Morgan, cornering you against the wall and wrapping his hand around your jaw… Or maybe , he’d rumble, caressing your lower lip with his thumb. You just enjoy my company . Then he’d fuck you silly, of course, in a series of lurid positions that grow increasingly obscene with each imagining.

And how many times have you pictured its inverse? Morgan, backing away in response to your hypothetical advance, his face contorted with faint disgust as he asks, “You know I was just joking, right?” Following which you’d get written up for sexual harassment by the leasing office and put on… housing probation, or something.

Being humiliated, you can handle. Albeit not very well— but you’re usually able to stay at least semi-functional. The same goes for flirtation. It’s this hopeless vacillation between the two possibilities that drives you out of your mind. Schrodinger’s boner: simultaneously fucked and unfucked. And like that quantum superposition, you’ve been plunged into a private hell of uncertainty until your reality can settle definitively on one or the other.

This has been predictably bad for your job performance. Earlier today, you’d accidentally deleted two entire spreadsheets of data whilst lost in competing visions of fornication and abject rejection, and then constructed a pivot table so incomprehensible that one of your colleagues had personally reached out to ask whether you’d recently experienced head trauma. 

God. At this point, you really have no choice but to put the question to him directly. Plain and simple. Just a quick “are you hitting on me” and it’ll all be–

Your thoughts are interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. 

Huh. Looks like Defying Your Blue Collar Dom is getting delivered a day early? It’s unusual for Amazon to leave packages at your doorstep instead of in the lobby, but it does happen, so…

…Oh.

It’s Morgan. What the fuck.

“But you were supposed to come tomorrow ,” you blurt, eyes wide with panic.

“That so?” Morgan asks, one eyebrow raised. He glances sidelong to the empty hallway, and shifts his weight uneasily from one leg to the other. With a shrug, he squares up his shoulders and turns back towards the stairwell. “Later, then.”

Shit. This is all going wrong. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I– I, uh…I’m… ”

He allows your stammer to run its course into awkward silence. Then the corner of his mouth angles upwards in a sly smile and he asks, “Or d’you need a minute to put away anything else your ‘friend’ mighta left out? I can wait.”

Somewhere in the realm of missed quips, there probably exists a clever response to this. Somewhere that is decidedly not here. “No,” you reply in a small, pained voice. “She, uh– she hasn’t been around, so… y’know…”

The sentence unspools like loose yarn. Jesus Christ, this is stupid.

“You alright?” Morgan asks, frowning down at you from where he stands. “You ain’t normally this incoherent.”

His comment implies that you’ve been operating thus far on an existing, baseline level of incoherence. Biting back the urge to query exactly what that looks like, you reply with a clipped, terse, “I’m fine.”

As you lead him towards your kitchen, you nearly trip over the half-packed suitcase parked beside the door. At this, Morgan again voices his concern. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this on edge before. Something botherin’ you?”

Yes , you think to yourself. My libido.

“Or is it some one that’s botherin’ you?”

He says the words with such a darkly implicative undertone that you actually turn around to stare at him, disarmed by the sudden shift. The warmth in his eyes has gone out like a blown candle. “Is it one of the other maintenance men?” he asks, and the whisper of lethality in his countenance surfaces so quickly that it speaks to a kind of practiced efficiency. 

A mingled thrill of fear and intrigue runs up your spine, and you swallow hard.

“If one of ‘em’s harassin’ you— if anyone’s harassin’ you…” he says these words with slow deliberation, while curling his free hand into a fist, thumb tucked over his folded fingers in that characteristic manner of boxers and street brawlers alike, and god if he were anyone else you’d likely be shrinking against the wall in terror right now. “Then you come tell me. And I’ll handle it.”

You have a sneaking suspicion that his method of conflict resolution involves grievous bodily injury. “Nobody’s bothering me,” you reply. Then, because he still looks vaguely homicidal, you follow up quickly with, “Just had an off day.”

This placates him somewhat. The tension diminishes like a rope going slack, and you realize with a hot pang of humiliation that your underwear is slick with arousal.

It’s not until he’s crouched in front of your broken cabinet, which stands ajar with its wooden door peaked at a 45 degree angle, that you finally work up the nerve to confront him. “So. Morgan.” You lean against the edge of your kitchen countertop like the faux marble might offer you emotional support. “There’s, uh. Something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

He’s sorting through his tool kit and doesn’t lift his head. Picks through an array of silver chiseled pieces so deftly that you can’t help but wonder what else those hands might be clever at. “Yeah?’ he asks, selecting a screwdriver head. He slips it into the drill chuck, twisting it tight.

“Are you, um…”

Fuck. You can’t say it. Your mouth literally refuses to shape itself to the words. Instead, you hear yourself ask, “Are you thirsty? You want some seltzer?”

Morgan blinks, then turns to you looking predictably baffled. “That’s… what you’ve been wantin’ to ask me? Whether or not I’m thirsty?”

“Yes,” you reply weakly.

For once, it’s him who’s been caught off guard. “I– uh. Sure, I guess.”

He takes his drill and begins to remove the damaged hinge. Taking the door leaf and flipping it this way and that, he examines the damage.

The crack of aluminum when you pull back the can’s metal tab and the responding fizz of compressed air sounds a little like a rebuke. Scathingly, it hisses: what the hell are you doing?

I have no idea , you admit, pouring the can of sparkling water into a clean glass. You pass it over to Morgan after he presses the trigger on the drill twice and sets it on the countertop. He gulps down an absent mouthful, then immediately stands up to spit it in your sink.

Oh. He hates it.

Your voice is thin as a reed. “I guess you’re not a fan of sparkling grapefruit, huh?”

“It’s…” With the duty-bound reluctance of a dog given a loathed order, he takes another, tentative sip, and forces himself to swallow. “It’s fine.”

It is clearly not fine. “Do you, uh. Do you want a beer?”

“What, you encouragin’ me to drink on the job?”

You open the fridge. Good god, you might as well partake too. It’s not like you’re in any state to get any work done, stuck as you are in this miserable limbo . “In any case, I’m gonna have one. And I’m still on the clock.”

“Alright.” He sounds like he’s smiling. “So long as you’re complicit, why not?”

You end up downing half a bottle of 8% oatmeal stout in about three sips, then stand around blankly waiting for the roil of anxiety to abate. You’d attempt the precarious endeavor of small talk were it not for the fact that the only thing you can think of right now is “grapefruit”. Not the concept of grapefruit. Just the word “grapefruit”. This must be how computers feel when they spit out the same, continuous error message.

Mercifully, he intervenes. “You goin’ on vacation somewhere? Saw that suitcase by your door.”

“Catsitting,” you say.

“’…s’cuse me?”

“Catsitting. Like… babysitting. But for a cat,” you explain. “My friend’s going to Vegas the day after tomorrow, and her cat has anxiety.”

“Cats can get anxiety?”

“This cat takes cat Xanax . His name is Sebastian, and he’s the most neurotic animal I’ve ever met.” 

Morgan asks, “Yourself included?”

You make a noise that bears no resemblance to any word in the English language.

He chuckles. “Well, go on, tell me how neurotic he is.”

Thank fucking christ, the alcohol is finally beginning to course its way through your blood. Your tongue loosens enough to tell him how poor Sebastian had spent nearly an entire day curled up under your friend’s bed the first time you’d tried to take care of him, how you’d ended up driving to the grocery on a Sunday morning to scour the shelves for the most pungent can of sardines they had in stock, and how only then , with the room saturated in fish fumes, had the cat finally dragged itself out of the boxspring to nose curiously at your offering.

Morgan laughs. A good sign, you think. “That’s nothin’,” he says, and describes to you his boss’ cat: a purebred white Persian appropriately dubbed “The Count”, so thoroughly spoiled that she won’t eat the same meal twice in a row.

You snort at the image of a prissy little fluff ball turning her nose at a gourmet cat meal.

“Though it’s funny, I never took you for a cat person,” he says.

“No?”

“Figured you’d prefer snails.”

“Look, snails… snails are…” This is a sentence you started with absolutely no knowledge of how it should end. “I like snails,” you say lamely.

“Oh yeah? Think I remember somethin’ else that you like.” He puts his hand around his jaw and pretends to look thoughtful. “What was that book called again? Somethin’ about… bein’ punished by blue collar doms?”

“I’m sure that my friend who left her book on blue collar doms here very much enjoys them, if that’s what you’re referencing.”

He merely chuckles indulgently as he continues to fix the cabinet. You watch his muscles flex under his shirt as he drills new holes into the wood and sets the new hinge in place. As he works the power tool with a soft grunt, you find yourself idly wondering if he’d make the same sound as he drills you —

“Y’know,” he comments, stepping back as he tests the alignment of the door. “I’m actually kind of impressed. This is the most work I’ve ever had to do for a single apartment, barring natural disasters.”

“Wow. Comparing a girl to a natural disaster. Are you this charming with all the tenants, Mr Morgan?”

“You gonna be jealous if I say ‘yes’?”

The alcohol makes you honest. “Extremely.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He grabs the edge of the kitchen counter and hauls himself back to his feet. “If this is the amount of property damage you cause normally, then I’d hate to see you angry.”

He takes another step forward. You take a step back reflexively, but find yourself pressed against the wall. He leans his forearm against the drywall and he’s close enough now that you can smell sweat and machine oil. Your heart beats hard in your chest. 

For once you’re lost for words. No quip comes to mind, for your brain is emitting sparks. “I, uh– I’m not–”

“You’re not what, exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” you say weakly.

He raises his hand to your jaw, tips your chin up with two fingers. “The answer’s ‘no’, by the way,” he says quietly. “It’s just you.”

Morgan looks like he’s going to kiss you. The expression on his face is softer than you’ve ever seen it, all his gruffness melted away. You tentatively tug at the fabric of his jumpsuit and stand on your toes to–

But he puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you back down. “Goddamn,” he says, frowning. “You’re really red.”

Huh. What.

“Listen, I ain’t one for takin’ advantage of drunks, even if they got themselves into this mess.” He picks you up as if you weigh nothing at all and sets you down on the couch. “Now, I’m goin’ to get you some water, and yer goin’ to sit here and sober up while I finish this cabinet. Alright?”

“I’m not even that drunk,” you protest loudly.

“Yer about the color of a fire hydrant right now.”

When you press the back of your hand to your cheeks and forehead, your skin feels feverish. Begrudgingly, you sink down into your couch cushions and cross your arms.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, patting your head affectionately.

***

You slouch on your friend’s comfy couch with Sebastian sitting regally in your lap as if you were his loyal subject.

“Hey Sebastian, I think I did something really stupid.”

Sebastian stretches and yawns. 

“I hit on the maintenance man.”

He meows. It sounds almost disapproving. Even the cat is judging you. 

“It gets worse.” You loll your chin downwards until it touches your chest. “I was sloppy drunk.”

Sebastian tilts his head at you and blinks.

“Okay, one bottle drunk.”

He sniffs haughtily.

“Right? Pathetic, I know.” You move to pick up Sebastian, but he begins to arch his back and you stop, leaning back against the cushions again. He relaxes and maintains his regal position.

“Well, maybe YouTube will keep my mind off him for the next two days…”

***

You return from your friend’s place, having used her cat and your friend’s YouTube Premium as your therapy sessions. You feel better about things now, and life should return to normal. Right?

The washer’s inner mechanism gives a promising rattle as it swallows your last six quarters. There’s a low rumble of moving parts, the click of something slotting into place— and then silence. The drum of the machine sits sedately in place. Your dirty clothes sit inside in a quiet, unsoaked heap.

“Son of a bitch,” you mutter under your breath. 

You try out a couple different methods: Turn the knobs to various settings without success. Jiggle the handle to try and unlock the washer door. Yell at the machine, call it a worthless piece of shit.

But where discourse fails, violence often prevails. It’s a lesson that has offered a decent measure of success in your dealings with vending machines, keurigs, and lawnmowers. So it’s not merely anger that guides you to kick the washer. No, this is… this is a strategic use of force.

The first kick yields no results. The second kick produces an interesting sputter. Perhaps , you reason, a more precise method is needed here . You raise your fist.

Before you can punch the machine, someone grabs you by the wrist.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Morgan asks, exasperated.

“Laundry,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“What part of laundry involves fightin’ inanimate objects?”

“The part where I get this piece of shit to finally work.” You attempt to give the washer a last parting shot out of pure anti-machine sentiment with your other hand.

Before you can continue to perform percussive maintenance, he grabs your other wrist too.

You tug on both your arms, but he is ridiculously solid; it’s like trying to break free of handcuffs.

Of course my mind goes there.

Looking up at him, he’s realizing at the same time as you of how suggestive this looks. His eyes widen a bit, and you take that as a look of surprise and embarrassment. Yet neither of you moves for a full minute.

“Well,” you say finally. “Are you gonna let me go? Or are you gonna make me submit?”

His eyes narrow for a moment before a smirk slowly grows on his face. “Sounds like that’s what you want.”

He pulls you away from the machine and instead pushes you up against the closest wall. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin linen of your sundress. He traps your wrists against the cold surface and presses his whole body against yours. 

“Mr Morgan—”

“It’s Arthur,” he interrupts. “Call me Arthur.”

You whisper his name, beckoning. His expression darkens ever so slightly as his desire for you manifests in a slight twitch of his lips, a crinkling of his brow.

Then he kisses you hard, his tongue lashing against yours before lightly nipping your bottom lip. When he pulls back, his lips are wet and his pupils are blown out with desire.

Letting go of your wrists, he reaches for the hem of your sundress and hikes it up, his calloused hands stroking upwards from your thighs to your hips. He shifts his knee between your legs and nudges them apart before grinding against you. You can feel how hard he is, how big he is, and you moan softly. Burying his head between your neck and shoulder, he begins to suck on the delicate skin there—

The door creaks open. Mrs. Smith, the septuagenarian from down the hall, walks into the doorway with a hamper of laundry in her arms, then pauses when she sees the two of you.

For a second, everyone stands tense and still as participants in a shootout.

“Well,” Mrs. Smith says mildly. She doesn’t look surprised or scandalized. If anything, she looks mildly entertained. “I can see you two are busy. I’ll come back in an hour or so—”

“No! It’s fine,” you say before laughing nervously. You yank your skirt back down. Arthur immediately releases you and begins intensely inspecting the washing machine. “I was actually just leaving. This, uh, this machine’s broken.”

Morgan’s face is red as he makes a noise of confirmation and nods.

“That certainly seemed a novel means of repair,” Mrs. Smith says. The smile on her face is benign, but knowing.

“Anyway!” You pick up your empty laundry basket. “I really must get back. I have a…that is, I… I think I left my oven on.”

You barrel out the door, nearly knocking Mrs. Smith over in your escape. You run down three flights of stairs and into your apartment, slamming the door shut. Marching to your couch, you put a pillow over your face and scream .

***

Watching her leave, Arthur stands in shock at first, then glances over at Mrs. Smith and turns himself towards one of the washing machines, examining it with great focus.

A soft chuckle reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at the old lady, steadily pulling out one piece of laundry at a time from another machine. Under the pretense of examining all the machines, he notes that she also slowly and methodically loads the dryer.

“You should just go after her,” she says quietly, throwing a pair of large pink underpants into the dryer. “She’s a nice one, that girl.”

Arthur can only mutter, “I got work to do.”

“Come now, we both know that’s a lie.”

He sighs. It’s bad enough that John is on his case, but now 705 is giving him grief. 

“Do you like her?”

He’s silent. He does not want to be having this conversation.

“Because a girl as pretty as her…”

“I know, I know,” Arthur grumbles. “I’m goin’.”

As he walks past her, Mrs. Smith grins knowingly.

[nectar-cellar]

5 Facts about Count Vladislaus Straud IV 

@holocene-sims Anna, thank you for sending this in and sparking my inspiration! I’ll be using this prompt as a character-building exercise for Vlad. He has absolutely grown into one of my favorite sims and it was long overdue. Warning, I wrote a lot over the weekend and I enjoyed every minute of it. 

In the pics above, I aged him down to create what he would’ve looked like as a young, gloomy nobleman. This would have been before he became a vampire. I gave him a softer, more melancholic expression, you’ll understand why. He's aged like fine wine, hasn’t he? Human Vlad or Grand Master Vampire Vlad, I can’t choose, I love them both.

Some notes: 

I used the Sims Wiki lore as a starting point but I never force myself to stick too strictly to what is canon with any of my premade sims. The lore gave me some good ideas though.

I kept the timeline vague because I’m pretty ignorant about historical time periods but I imagine Vlad was a human sometime in the 1800s. History buffs, feel free to correct me. I didn’t end up taking more pictures because I have no period-appropriate attire, oh well.  

Content warning: blood, violence, war, murder. He didn’t exactly have a fun human life.

Fact 1. 

Vlad was born into an upper-middle class family in Eastern Europe. His father was a high-ranking military officer, and his mother was a music teacher. As a child, Vlad was pulled in two directions: his mother wanted to cultivate his love for literature and his talent for music, while his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps as a military officer, and take interest in more traditionally masculine pursuits. He grew up in a home that was materially privileged but emotionally chaotic. 

After Vlad came of age, he followed his father’s wishes and joined the military, hoping to finally earn his approval and carry on the family legacy. Reserved, proper and soft-spoken, Vlad quickly found that he did not fit in with his peers, nor did he enjoy the harsh, physically intense, and strict authoritarian environment of the military. The bare conditions of the camps, the long and tiring days, and the constant travel made Vlad disillusioned with the life that he had been pressured to choose, and the career that lay ahead of him. His mother had desperately wished for him to study the arts at university instead, and Vlad would later wonder what life would have been like if he’d been brave enough to take a different path. 

Vlad’s performance as a soldier was poor. His meek personality, his weak physical strength, and his inferior performance made him the target of his peers and his superiors’ bullying. His father’s high status made his incompetence even more humiliating, and worse, prevented him from being dismissed from the military like the other flunkies. 

Fact 2.

One of Vlad’s formative childhood memories was when his father brought home a rabbit he had hunted, and forced the young boy to prepare it for his mother to cook. Vlad remembers being repulsed by the act of butchering the animal while his father instructed him in an increasingly loud and agitated manner. Finally, Vlad vomited from stress and disgust, then his father angrily took over. Vlad left the kitchen but the sound of the knife hitting the chopping block in a rage was heard all throughout the house. Later, dinner was eaten in silence. 

Vlad was traumatized by the incident, but afterwards became morbidly fascinated with animal and human biology, and mortality. He never quite saw the world the same way again.

Fact 3.

Vlad’s time in the army changed him into a tougher, crueler, and desensitized version of himself. He remembers how powerful he felt the first time he fought back against a fellow soldier who had been antagonizing him in the barracks, and won. He had never been one for violence until he discovered how good it felt to beat an enemy into bloody submission with his bare hands. He remembers the stunned silence of the onlookers, and how people acted differently towards him after that. He was treated with slightly more respect, or at least left alone more often. 

Vlad remembers the first time he killed someone in battle. He had downed an enemy soldier on the field with his firearm, and had gone over to check. The man was critically injured and bloodied, but not dead. Vlad then shot him a second time, in the head, at point blank range. He was later congratulated by his teammates who had witnessed the murder. Vlad remembers how the fallen enemy had been a young man, just like him. His face had been frozen in shock, his body convulsing with shallow, panicked breaths as he bled out. Vlad had shot him a second time to end his suffering. Vlad knew the reality of war was to kill or be killed, but he didn’t know if it was more ethical to end someone’s life or merely injure them enough to preserve his own safety. As the battles continued, he stopped caring. 

Fact 4.

During the war, a small team of 25 soldiers, including Vlad, was sent to an isolated, mountainous region (what is now Forgotten Hollow) on a reconnaissance mission to explore the possibility of setting up a military base in the area. While traveling through the woods, the troop was attacked by vampire bats, but Vlad was the only one bitten. Soon after, he became inexplicably pale, weak, and averse to sunlight, to the unsympathetic disdain of the others. He became hungrier than usual, and he found himself strangely fixated on the necks, exposed skin, and bloodied bandages of his fellow soldiers. 

Late one night, towards the end of the mission, Vlad overheard a group of soldiers talking as he was taking a walk by himself around the outskirts of the base camp to get some fresh air. Most of the others had already gone to sleep. Although he felt feverish, weak, and he had a piercing headache, his other senses, like smell and hearing, were strangely sharper than ever before. The soldiers were discussing the troop’s plans to abandon him at the site due to his weakened state and overall lack of competence as a soldier, and to explain away his death as an illness or an accident. Vlad realized this conspiracy to get rid of him had been brewing for a while, and they were going to seize the opportunity while he was mysteriously sick. The oddly small size of the troop and the suspiciously faraway location they were exploring suddenly made sense to him. 

An animalistic rage unlike anything he’d ever felt before took hold of him and he attacked the group, lunging at their necks. The next thing Vlad knew, he woke up in the middle of the campsite at dawn, feeling vaguely injured but not in pain, and surrounded by the drained, mutilated, and semi-devoured bodies of all his former troop members. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and meat. Vlad remembers how he was no longer hungry, weak, or scared. All he felt was a calm realization followed by relief that he had survived the ordeal.

Although the region would not make a useful military base or attractive settlement due to its isolated location and depressing weather, the surroundings did provide a strangely cozy place for a homestead. Surrounded by tall mountains, thick forests, and close to a few small lakes, Vlad had at last found his safe haven. Newly invigorated, he began to dispose of the bodies and the evidence, and build a shelter from the usable camp supplies left behind. It would be a while before the military sent another troop to check on them, and he had plenty of time to think about his alibi and future plans while he waited. No one would ever know what happened on that failed reconnaissance mission.

Fact 5   

War, betrayal, and trauma made Vlad a cruel, violent, and power-hungry ruler of the small town of Forgotten Hollow. At first, when the town was newly founded, he kept his vampirism a secret and fed on wild animals and livestock. As the decades went by, and more people settled into the town, he became bolder with terrorizing the residents, feeding on humans, and turning humans into younger and weaker vampires under his control. He also returned to the aristocratic lifestyle he had before his military service, building a mansion for himself and pursuing his interests in reading, music, and art. He cultivated the appearance of a charismatic, worldly, and well-groomed gentleman to covertly move through human society, and to better seduce and disarm his victims. 

Vlad’s reign of terror only came to an end when the other vampires in the town, particularly the Vatore siblings, banded together to overpower him and report him to the International Council of Occult Beings, a council headed by the world’s most powerful occult beings to govern the supernatural population. After a lengthy trial, as punishment for breaking numerous Vampire Code of Ethics laws, Vlad’s vampiric abilities were severely restricted by magic, he was exiled from Forgotten Hollow, and forced to live in the supernatural community of Moonlight Falls where he would be monitored and unable to act with impunity against a vulnerable human population.    

In the aftermath of his trial and punishment, Vlad is content to turn over a new leaf. He admits that at some point, his descent into depravity was no longer justified by his past. All he can do is resolve to change for the better, and he knows there will be harsher consequences from the Council if he does not obey their laws. He is even thankful to have the opportunity to rediscover the humanity and softness he once had a long, long time ago. He knows the regret and guilt he feels are signs that there is hope for him. Still, he wonders if the monstrous, evil side of him, the side of him that delighted in causing pain and terror, can ever be fully put back in its cage. He thinks it’s best if he isolates himself in his mansion and stays far away from everyone. 

These days, Vlad’s favorite pastimes are playing classical pieces on the piano, reading books by candlelight, and sipping on chilled packs of ethically sourced, cruelty free, non-human-based plasma from a wine glass.  

[mytragedyperson]

Thoughts I had while reading TCF/LCF chapter 15

Oh the hunting rabbits. Once again Ron is being a little shit and he even tricked poor Choi Han into helping him.

Ron may not have caught the rabbits but I imagine it was still his doing

On, Hong and Hans continue to be precious and adorable. Hans tries to take such good care of him. Love that he took the time to prepare jerky for them. He’s so sweet. I said it before I’ll say it again. Another day, another reason to love Hans

And Hans is right. Their sassiness is cute. Cute and terrifying. This novel does that type of thing better than most

The image I have in my head of Choi Han just peacefully sat eating his soup next to Cale and the kittens as all the other knights keep just glancing at him in uncertainty and Cale internally curses him for catching rabbits of all things, while Hans tries to get the cats to pay attention to him. I love it. It’s times like this I wish I could actually draw.

Choi Han asserting dominance. Also the start of Choi Han’s weird well I didn’t manage to kill them but I did manage to cut off a limb and permanently maimed them thing that happens a couple times that I remember. These bandits then Redika.

And the vice captain learns a valuable lesson luckily before he pisses off Choi Han too much

That must be humiliating for the bandits, having to admit they lost to 5 knights even if one of them was really strong. All their bandit friends and rivals will make fun of them. They become the laughing stock of the bandit community. And all because they tried to steal from Cale Henituse while Choi Han was there. Big mistake

It’s so fun watching Choi Han terrify and intimidate people. And he seems so pleased with himself.

Choi Han also enjoys messing people but I guess that makes sense. I feel like to be an ally of Cale’s you have to be a little shit at least slightly. It’s a fairly big part of the job description.

I feel like everyone likes messing with Cale tbf. He’s fun to tease and mess with

Ok it’s time to discuss the whole conversation Choi Han and Cale have here. First of all him saying I’ve never seen so many bandits before instead of just saying yeas as an overall answer is really smart form the author. Lets the audience know that this probably isn’t the first battle he’s seen, just with bandits and in-world, he’s lying without lying, because why would the trash Cale have seen a battle? He hasn’t left the Henituse territory in what, 2 years? And no one calls him out on this so it must be true that he’s never encounters bandits or a battle. In this story wording is everything. Ok so I know Choi Han doesn’t really know much about Cale but the whole “this must be your first time facing death” thing is really interesting to me. It shows how, when Choi Han thinks of death, he thinks of battles and violence.  Because even if Cale has never faced a battle before, illnesses still exist, right? Like, there are many ways you could die, and many near death experiences you could face that have nothing to do with violence. That’s without taking into account the KRS element. And this thinking does make sense. Most of the death he’s seen has been due to violence. I just think it’s interesting that, in Choi Han’s mind death is associated most with battles and violence. But the thing is I don’t think at this point Cale really thinks anyone at this point is going to kill him, but he is still nervous around them purely because they’re dangerous and main characters and he doesn’t want to get involved, or so he claims. I don’t think I actually explained that how I meant. Basically he’s  scared of the possibilities of what they could do but realistically he knows these things won’t happen, at least subconsciously. Idk Cale, maybe he keeps talking to you because, and this might be a stretch and I’m really grasping at straws here, but maybe the reason he keeps talking to you is that he likes you. Or maybe that you keep answering him. Idk though.

Ok and this the whole I trust in my heart I’ll be okay. Now, he’s talking about the Indestructible Sheild, and we know that and it makes sense to us… but no one else knows he has the indstructible shield. So when he says he doesn’t need to know martial arts, points out the people around him as a reason why and then says that he trusts in his heart he’ll be okay, all they hear is I trust you as my guards to keep me safe. Of course that motivates them, you’ve seemingly just put your full trust in them to keep you safe not just because it’s their job and they’re supposed to, but because you, as a person, actually trust them to do it. And then you’re somehow shocked when they want to train more. They want to ensure that your trust isn’t misplaced. Cale, I know you know things they don’t, but this is why we’re careful with what we say.  Because Choi Han isn’t a mind reader so for him all he knows is what he sees and here’s so for Choi Han, this is that conversation word for word, starting from:

Choi Han: Cale-nim, do you not study any martial arts?

Cale: no need

Choi Han: shouldn’t you at least have the strength to protect yourself.

Cale: I have plenty of ways already *looks at the people around him* you can see them too right? *smiles* *pats heart* I trust my heart. I will live.

And funnily enough that’s also what everyone else hears. They don’t know about the indestructible shield, so to them when he says about trust, he’s talking about them. He’s so clueless, so dumb, and somehow so good at motivating people. This may happen a few more times, me showing a conversation without Cale’s thoughts to show what everyone actually hears just because I feel like it proves some of my points better and explains it better than I could. It also gives you a better idea of which conversation I’m talking about. It won’t be constant or all the time but when talking about misunderstandings that could’ve been avoided if Cale just remembered people weren’t mind readers who knew what he meant, I’ll occasionally do this. As I said it probably won’t be often. But anyways, I know a huge part of Cale’s character is that he’s oblivious and causes misunderstandings but how does he not realise they’re obviously going to think he’s talking about them here? What does he plan for them to think?

This is why I can’t feel sorry for him when these misunderstandings happen. He actually brings it on himself. Honestly reading these conversations while taking out his thoughts really helps you understand what everyone who isn’t Cale sees and hears and really puts it into a new perspective where it’s easier to understand their reactions and the understandings, and shows how utterly avoidable these reactions and situations are. And it actually makes it more entertaining for when you read his surprise or confusion. Like it’s easy enough to understand anyway but when put like this it’s like yeah there’s not really another way they could’ve taken that with what they know

So honest question how many times do you think the characters in this novel have looked at Cale and thought he was being cute and it’s just never mentioned because Cale never noticed it? Like they’ve just looked at him and gone “aww!” I reckon for Ron it’s a daily occurrence he’ll never met. And anytime he sees money or is presented with good food and gets happy or excited. When he interacts with Raon or the cat siblings. When he says certain things or does certain things. Because Cale is kind of adorable in his own right and just doesn’t realise it, doesn’t realise how precious he is, and I feel like everyone lowkey platonically simps for him and I think that’s perfectly valid. Again they have weekly gossip sessions where they just gush and worry about him. Ooh they share photos they took when he wasn’t paying attention, not embarrassing ones, but just moments they thought he was being cute.

Wait so the lemonade is specifically prepared by Ron, right? And the lemon tea by Beacrox? I love that the implication here is that Ron brought lemons along for the sole purpose of teasing Cale. Like that’s hilarious. God I love Ron and the lemon torture sm.

Yes, Choi Han motivated Hilsman. I’m not gonna say he didn’t but once again Cale doesn’t realise he’s also motivated him, and he’d probably be horrified if he knew. But Choi Han does also motivate Hilsman and provides some sort of level Hilsman wants the knights to achieve. Choi Han teaches him not to underestimate and encourages him to get stronger just by being present, but Cale encourages them with words and boosts their morale. That’s what’s he’s best at raising morale, boosting confidence, anything that has to do with speaking really. He somehow knows even without realising it what people need to hear to motivate them. The best way to put it is Choi Han is physical motivation and Cale is mental/emotional motivation, if you know what I mean. I’m bad at explaining things but hopefully you get my point.

My god they’re so dumb. The cave is right behind the villa so, logically, something goe wrong, those living in the villa will be killed first. Dumb, arrogant, careless. There are so many ways Venion and the Marquis are so dumb. The worlds where Taylor dies and doesn’t take over this family? I have no hope for them. Maybe one of his siblings is better? Idk, we don’t really know much about the other Stans but I can’t imagine they’d be much better if they have this Marquis as their father.

Honestly Venion is so pathetic. I can’t wait to see him get destroyed again. I remember the torture being satisfying to read the first time. I can’t imagine that will change

I’m sorry I know this probably isn’t the intent but Hans walked over with Choi Han when Cale was upset/angry and my brain just went aww he brought the emotional support Choi Han and I can’t unthink it. Choi Han  is so emotional support and I love that. like I know that’s not really what/how it happened but idk I like the idea of, whenever Cale is upset or angry, someone just going to get Choi Han. The kids are already there obviously.

Cale: I just want to get Choi Han away from me

Also Cale, whenever Choi Han goes literally anywhere away from him: stay safe, and take this medicine, and hurry back and - *continues to act like a concerned parent and fuss about Choi Han*

Choi Han, who lost one family and has quickly gained another: I’ll never let anything happen to you and I love you and I’ll never leave you for too long and- *continues to platonically simp for Cale and is just so happy because he has somewhere to return to and a family and all the things he thought he’d lost forever*

Choi Han calling Cale sir just feels so weird to me. Like Cale-nim fine, but sir? Idk it doesn’t feel right.

Ah yes, Cale’s bad feelings. You’ve gotta love them.

Cale really can’t catch a break, can he? Choi Han leaves his side for two seconds and this BS happens. Well, guess that settles it, Choi Han can never leave Cale again. Every time he does, things like this (Marquis Stan’s carriage) happen. Or he brings back more people than he left with, and that’s clearly Cale’s thing, it can’t be both of their thing.

Once again, Cale gets involved when he doesn’t really have to. If Choi Han punches Marquis Stan I think that would be deserved. Probably for the best he didn’t though. That would not end well for Choi Han as funny and deserved as it would be.

I mean chances are, before he got out of the carriage, they didn’t really know Choi Han was with him? I’d say it’s a 50/50 chance they knew before then, but also it seems like these people are just like that, and would’ve reacted the same if Choi Han wasn’t with Cale, only maybe even worse.

[lostxndbroken]

FULL NAME: Shawn Campbell NICKNAME/ALIASES: - FACE-CLAIM: Levi Stocke GENDER: Male AGE: End twenties, begin thirties (depends on the storyline as well) BIRTHDATE: 27 of April ZODIAC: Taurus RACE: Human ALIGNMENT: Neutral to Chaotic good SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English

HEIGHT: 5 feet 9 WEIGHT: 179 lbs. BODY TYPE: Fit, athletic SKIN TONE: White, pale POSTURE: Confident and depending on the situation closed/defensive EYE COLOR: Green HAIR COLOR: Dark blond with a light red-ish glow BIRTHMARKS: - TATTOOS: He is covered with tattoos. His arms, back, chest, legs PIERCINGS: None SCARS: He has a couple of cigarette burn marks on his back. Along his hairline he has a cut from when his father pushed him off the stairs. A scratch mark on his left pec from one of his cases.  

LIKES: Reading, fixing about anything, playing guitar, whiskey, smoking a cigar from time to time, riding on his bike, being on the road and in nature, rock and metal music, he likes to fish, working out DISLIKES: Injustice, people telling him what to do, loud techno music or with a lot of bass and bounce, crowded places, being in the center of attention HOBBIES: Playing guitar, reading, fishing, riding his bike, drinking his whiskeys, listening to rock and metal music HABITS?QUIRKS: Shawn doesn’t like things to change, he can handle a couple of light changes at a time, but when there is a big change he might walk away from it and go back to something familiar MOTIVATION: To prevent people from going through the same as he had with cursed objects DISCOURAGEMENT: Losing family and friends CONFIDENT LEVEL: Confident GREATEST FEAR/PHOBIA: Losing everything he has

PARENTS: Cillian Campbell / Mary Rowan-Campbell SIBLINGS: None OTHER RELATIVES: Robert Rowan (uncle – mother’s side) PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT: Mary was a loving mother who did everything she could to keep her boy safe. By doing so she lost her life. Before Mary’s death, Cillian was a devoted father who spend quality time with his wife and son. When Mary died, Cillian blamed Shawn and punished him for surviving the accident 

OCCUPATION: He is a form of private investigator revolving around supernatural and cursed objects. Other than that he does odd jobs such as fixing pluming, cars, bikes and upgrade homes to keep bringing in money CLOSE FRIENDS: Luca Shay (deceased), Brenard Logan (deceased), John Fowler RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Homoromantic PREFERRED EMOTIONAL/SEXUAL ROLE: Emotional role is mostly protective and sexual role depends on his needs and his partner’s. TURN ON’S: It can be a certain look that turns him on. Explorative touches over his body, firm and light. His partner telling about what they want, what they imagine as long as it’s not overly dirty. Lips all over his neck, jawline, chest or lower. Depending on the level of trust, his back being touched can be a turn on as well. A little rough play like hair pulling, scratching and biting turns him on as well TURN OFF’S: Too much talk when things are being turned on, turns him off. He likes to focus on what he’s doing and what he’s getting. He can’t do that properly when someone keeps talking to him. Overly dirty talk that is mixed with degrading and humiliation.   LOVE LANGUAGE: Shawn isn’t someone who shows his love with words. He rather shows it as he believes that it means more when you show it. He would care for you when you’re sick, or not feeling great. Bring you coffee, breakfast, make you dinner. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: Shawn is very careful with getting into serious relationships. His first real love died because he wanted a better life for Shawn, making a deal with the devil (if you will). He had a few relationships after that but when they learned what he did (collecting supernatural and cursed objects), they walked away from him in different kind of stages of their relationship. Ending up not believing in them as much.

STRENGTHS: Self-disciplined, courage, patience, empathy, compassion, loyalty, honesty, emotional intelligence, good listener, willpower, kindness, modest, persistent, humor WEAKNESSES: Afraid to fail, difficult with change, some level of impulse, can have a short temper, self-doubt, overthinking, stubbornness, prone to self-sabotage, somewhat reluctance to take certain risks, reluctance to seek help or accept help from others, difficulty forgiving himself, difficulty to adapt in routine changes, hard time forgiving PHYSICAL HEALTH: Great MENTAL HEALTH: Poor

Shawn is a Taurus man that embodies traits of determination, loyalty and resilience, grounded by his earth sign. Despite the tragedies in his life, Shawn possesses a great level of determination to persevere and protect those he cares about. His loyalty lies deep and will go to great lengths for his loved ones.

Like any Taurus man, Shawn is very stubborn and doesn’t like to be told what to do or how to do it. He doesn’t like to confront his own emotions and vulnerabilities as he rather takes care of others than himself and doesn’t think that sometimes he needs to be taken care of as well. This might result from his past relationship with Luca, who tried to wish Shawn’s life to be better, and it ended with Shawn losing everything he ever had.

He struggles with a lot of changes or big changes in his life. Shawn holds onto his past and his own routines, as they feel safe to him. He detests when others attempt to improve things for him.

In relationships, Shawn is devoted and protective, but struggles with trust and intimacy because of many factors from his past and what he does because of his past. Nevertheless, when he opens his heart, his love is steadfast and enduring, serving as a reliable support for those who are fortunate to earn his loyalty.

Shawn’s life was marked by a series of heartbreaking events that shaped him into the resilient yet haunted man he is today.

His story start with his mother, Mary, who discovered a chilling prophecy from her brother Robert Rowan. He told her that Shawn’s life will be cut short. By that time, he had seen many of the boy’s deaths and felt an obligation to tell Mary the truth of what he had seen many times. Shawn’s death before he would reach the age of ten. Mary knew of her brother’s skill and also knew that he wouldn’t lie to her.

Mary told her husband, Cillian, about the prophecy. He refused to believe such nonsense and waved the warning away. Despite her husband’s scepticism, Mary went on a mission to save her son. She came across a supernatural relic that might save her son’s life. It came in a form of a charm. This charm she kept around her neck from then on out, keeping it close.

She tried to keep her son safe, but one fateful event had them involved in a huge collision with multiple cars and they were stuck in the middle. Shawn died as he had hit his head against the glass next to him, among other injuries. Mary used the charm as was instructed, well aware of the price. Her life to save his.

Shawn woke up in the hospital two weeks later. Confused about what had happened and why his uncle was there and not his father. Robert told him he and his mother had been in a car accident and that she didn’t make it. When Shawn asked about his father, Robert couldn’t answer. How was someone going to tell a young boy that their father didn’t want to see them?

When Shawn regained his strength, he returned home and expected a warm welcome from his father, as young boys do. Instead, he received the cold shoulder from a scarcely sober man. Cillian drowned his pain with alcohol and shared his sharp words and opinions with his son. How he was the reason that she was dead and it didn’t take long for him to believe them.

As Shawn grew older and Cillian’s addiction was more severe. The verbal abuse moved to physical abuse. It started with smacks and taps, but with each passing week, it grew more and more severe.

Shawn still saw his uncle from time to time, sleeping at his place to get away from the sorrow filled home. Dreading to head back home each time.

Even through all the pains of his home life. Shawn kept his grates up. He knew his father would never pay for college, unlikely to do so either, as coming by was already difficult to keep up with his addiction. He worked in a supermarket to help pay with the rent and other bills. When he was old enough to work in a bar, he did and loved the job too. It was at that place where he discovered a deep appreciation for whiskey, discovering the art of responsible consumption rather than indulging in excessive drinking commonly seen in bars. There, he could forget about his own life and focus on others.

It’s also where he met Luca, who was visiting with a group of friends. Their relationship grew fast, but not uncomfortably. Shawn tried to keep his family life out of their relationship, but eventually had to tell about his situation. Shawn couldn’t stay away from home too long. He had to take care of his father, who by that time had grown ill through his alcohol abuse. He needed to stock up on groceries, keep the house clean, fix everything that broke down. This eventually led to Shawn dropping out of college to take better care of his father when he wasn’t working.

At a fair he and Luca went to together, Luca saw a fortune-teller. Shawn refused to walk with him as he didn’t believe in that stuff and it made him uncomfortable. When he walked out, Luca wore the warmest and biggest of smiles Shawn had ever seen and when he asked about it, all he got was ‘it’s a surprise’. It turns out Luca was given a marble that could grand one wish, though that there was a price to be paid. The price, however, was vague and Luca thought little of it when he made the wish for a better life for his boyfriend.

That wish came true the day after, little by little. Shawn found his father clearing up his collection of beer and other boozes. Cillian cleaned up his act and as days passed by, he became a better father than Shawn ever remembered him to be. Cillian might have looked better over the days, but his boyfriend looked worse and worse. He became skittish and frightful. One night when Shawn slept over at Luca’s, he was awoken by a thrashing Luca and it was then that Shawn pulled out the information about what Luca had done for him. Initially, he doubted it, but it made sense how things had changed rapidly. Together they went back to the fortune-teller to undo the wish, as the price was not worth his boyfriend’s sanity. It was said that if you break the marble, the wish will become undone, leaving out some crucial details.

They broke the marble together and, just like the fortune-teller told them, things turned back to normal. His father became the alcoholic he always knew him to be and peace returned to Luca’s mind, most of it anyway. Shadows followed him wherever he went, and that shadow materialized when Luca went to Shawn’s home to pick him up. He heard them arguing about something and went inside to help. Cillian attacked Luca in an alcohol-fuelled rage and killed Luca. Then Cillian tried to kill his son and when he failed to do so, he killed himself.

Shawn lost everything that day and was forced to believe that cursed objects were a thing. He talked with his uncle about it, and it was then that Robert told him how Shawn was alive and his mother dead. That Shawn was dead for a few minutes before he was brought back. It wasn’t the work of medical care, but of some supernatural force. Robert also told him that such events brands a soul, meaning that Shawn might have gifts he suppressed through the years.

He asked his uncle to help him develop those skills so he could help others with situations such as his own. Learn about it, prevent it from happening or find a better solution than the end he had gotten with Luca and his father.

Shawn feels the energy of supernatural artifacts and locations, which are helpful on his hunt for them.

He can see the dead, not in detail, but as a silhouette.

Somewhat resilient to the effect of supernatural objects.

[i-cant-sing]

Why do you make me this??😭

You make me go wild with the yandere Shiratorizawa.

But since i'm a bad bitch, i managed to imagine MC pulling the deep secret card:

Ushijima: You can't leave now, if you do it i would have to punish you.

Reader: Then do it, i'm terminally ill, if you keep stoping me from go to the hospital i'm gonna die more soon than later, and you can't do anything about it.

That not only would leave Ushijima staring trying to process everything that you said, the entire gym would go silent, as reader leave to go to their treatment in the hospital.

Ohhhh but now you're being carried to the hospital in Ushijima's arms, and you already know the entire team is gonna be present at all your doctor appointments like your own personal entourage.

Now that you've mentioned you're actually terminally ill, you have now cemented in their minds that you really are a "frail, little kitten" that needs their help.

Ushijima knows your medicines and checkup schedules like the back of his hand. He's forcing them pills down your throat, dragging you to appointments, intimidating you into doing a healthy amount of exercise.

I guess the one thing that would be really different is that no more spanking from Ushijima. Some other form of punishment that is very mild. Or maybe something that is more on the humiliation side and not on the pain side. Like scolding you in public, treating you like a little child, doing EVERYTHING for you (stuff like washing your hands, to spoon feeding you baby bites so that you don't choke).

The team takes turns watching you throughout the day, and especially at night because their so paranoid that they need to make sure you're still breathing when asleep. More often than not, they even make you sleep in their room (you'll get the bed, but it's hard to enjoy the luxury when they're staring st you.)

Now while he doesn't punish you very often, Ushijima does narrow his eyes when you're being "difficult". "What do you mean you're 5 minutes late to taking your meds? What do you mean you don't wanna do leg stretches and skip your physio? No Y/n, you must do this. Now stop being sp fussy." Then again, Ushijima can't blame you for being so careless. You are just so helpless without him, he needs to protect you from everyone and everything, including yourself. So things that he thinks are "detrimental" to your health, they're getting snatched away. "No, your Nintendo switch is also being taken. And your laptop. And your phone. And Oikawa's jersey. I don't care of he's your favourite, his jersey is harming you. Here, take my jersey. I've washed and ironed it so it's warm and clean for you."

And you know the whole "pulling you onto their laps" thing? Yeah, maybe that was rare before. But now? 9/10 times you're sitting in someone's lap, usually Semi's, Tendou's or Ushijima's. One big arm slung around your waist, pulling you back and up when you try to get up. It's even more infuriating when they're talking about you like you're not there, just shushing you or pushing their chopsticks past your lips as if feeding a child, whispering you to settle down and not get "fussy". If you fall asleep in their laps from their boring conversations, then so be it. At least now everyone gets a new wallpaper for their phones.

[ipegchangbin]

hi z <3

im not good at writing and English isn't my 1st language so im super sorry in advance

im also bring to keep this as gender neutral as possible

dunno how open to this concept u are but : loser!chan and mean/bully!reader ? if not pls ignore/delete this ask lol

warning: unhealthy relationship dynamic

its not bullying out of malice but out of confusion, reader doesn't understand their feelings and takes them out on Channie who is head over heels for reader

uni/college setting would be perf for this channie does their hw, essays and other assignments for a little bit of their attention and reader plays around with him but gets upset at other girls who take interest in him

I really like this concept because of Chans ppl pleasing nature, there's just something so attractive about a strong buff man being desperate to please no matter what

this could be in form of doing assignments like I said but also bailing on band/sport practice because reader send him a nude telling him to come over or neglecting his needs to please them by performing oral on them until they come only to be send away ( and if he ends up cuming performing oral he gets made fun of and humiliated )

he doesn't know why he's so into them because on paper there's really not a single positive interaction between them but he really likes the way he gets butterflies every time they call him perv for getting an erection even though they rubbed their foot on his crotch in the middle of the busy library, he also sees the way they angrily stare every time a girl has the audacity to approach him, the way they go out of their way to humiliate this girl by spilling their drink or picking a fight with her

( I tried writing more nsfw but I am not very confident in doing so , so I will leave it at that , I will practice writing more but I just really like this dynamic and wanted to share )

with love, your bully anon

❕aforementioned warning: unhealthy dynamics

ive read this ask about 5 times over and i still melt at it. HELLO BULLY ANON youre doing things to me OUR TASTES CLICK SO MUCH???

really really love the way you put it: y/n cant really pinpoint what it is that they feel about chan, but their affection for him translates differently. they’re like fuckbuddies, a little more than just the usual “campus bully-picks-on-campus loser,” but less than an established relationship—at least, not yet.

maybe they were study peers: y/n needed to take extra time for their classes and chan wanted extra credits. they were unlikely seatmates, with y/n being restless and mighty while chan simply wanted to learn. eventually, what seemed to be something of a casual friendship became something a little more when they both realized they have some mutual feelings. y/n just doesn’t know what that feeling is; before they knew it, their display of affection towards him happened to be bedroom pain and pleasure.

imagine the possibilities with these two, though: picture y/n teasing chan and cockwarming him (either he is warming them or they are warming him), threatening him to finish their work before he gets to finish.

“no, no, —ah— not yet, channie. can you solve this last problem set for me? i’ll let you cum if you do.”

“oh, fuck—”

“do calculators talk, channie?”

they both sound a little stupid when they banter in (and out of) bed, but it’s better when y/n makes chan stupid from the fucking.

“can’t think straight in class, hm? can only think about me?” y/n scolded him in the emptiest hallway, slotting one thigh in between his legs.

“i-i, well, y-you sent the pic, and —ah— i couldn’t think straight.”

“but you were supposed to take my notes. aren’t you a useless little pervert? couldn’t even do the things i asked you to?”

they’re a lovely couple imo ^^ and i want to point out a particular thing you said:

there's just something so attractive about a strong buff man being desperate to please no matter what

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 AGREED. ARE YOU READING MY MIND? this is precisely the reason why i bias ppl like chan. sub!chan makes so much sense in this scenario another thing about him that makes this better is that he allows them to walk over him. whether it be in a figurative or literal sense, he’d do anything: he’d compromise his reputation and allow y/n’s friends to laugh behind his back whenever they pass him by.

maybe he finds joy in the thought that y/n talks filth about him sometimes.

maybe he loves the thought that y/n thinks of him like that.

maybe he loves the thought that y/n possesses his thoughts so much he’d be willing to be their sore loser no matter what they do to him.

… im delirious now !!!!

& sorry i got back to this late because I NEVER REALIZED HOW MUCH WE ALL NEED TO INDULGE IN THIS THOUGHT! worry not btw, please indulge as much as you need to and no need to worry about fluency, english isnt my first language either <3

thank you for dropping by, bully anon! ily and i hope youre doing great, drop by again soon im looking forward to hearing more from you 🎤

[elysianslove]

Here to ask- could you rank the jjk boys on terms of kinky to vanilla ;) Also love your 🍆hcs I definitely would not be complaining if you said more 🤭... ♡♡

*dice rolls* sure thing shawty 😩 also thank you so much omg. i got another request for a dick analysis so 😼

for this, i basically explained each of the boys, then ranked them at the end! 

JJK BOYS: A SCALE OF VANILLA TO KINKY 

itadori yuuji 

he’s somewhere in between! yuuji is curious enough to be considered kinky, but also he’s so loving that vanilla generally is his go to. not that vanilla can be a bad thing, because sex with yuuji, even if he’s not tying you up or spanking you and is just simply fucking you in missionary, is mind-blowing good. he never really is the one to initiate kinky things, or to ask to incorporate new things in the bedroom, but he’s always a hundred percent on board with anything you ask, no matter how extreme, even if he’s on the receiving end. maybe he’ll be the one to ask for things like “can i choke you?” or “can i blindfold you and use this toy on you?” but the hardcore shit has to come from you. it’s not entirely shyness, but there’s some of that too. he’s just generally new to sex, so even though he obviously has kinks he wants to try out, he sees sex as a way to pleasure both you and him, and that’ll be his main drive. if you want to add to that somehow, there’s absolutely no problem! 

fushiguro megumi 

oof he was a little tricky. i think he’s also somewhere in between, but definitely leaning way more towards kinky. like if it was a number scale, 1 being really vanilla and 10 being really kinky, megumi would be a good 7 or 8. it’s always the quiet ones. i think, at the start of your relationship, and when things start to get a little more intimate, he’s more vanilla, just cause he doesn’t wanna accidentally cross a line he hadn’t known was there. but as he gets more comfortable with you, he’ll definitely start asking you to change things up a bit. he’d do it cautiously though, cause what he’ll ask of you are either extremes, or kinks that have a high chance of you saying no, like pet play, or pain play. he’s definitely into dom/sub dynamics, and he’s a switch so, if you can also help him play out both roles, he’s in heaven. this was not an ask about his kink can i stay on track smh. but yeah, megumi’s definitely kinkier than he is vanilla, especially as your relationship grows and the level of comfort and trust between you does as well. 

gojō satoru

do i even have to. he’s so kinky it’s off the scale. he’s always trying out new things. start, middle, end of the relationship doesn’t matter. maybe he’s romantic on your first time. genuinely though, he’s very kinky, and is open about it too. here’s a twist though, i actually think he’s capable of being vanilla, but on very specific occasions. if you ask him, he’ll be a little shit about it, teasing you the whole time. but sometimes, he prompts it, and it’s usually when a mission goes wrong, or if something goes wrong and you nearly get hurt, or you do get hurt, and valentine’s day cause like. obviously, in his words. also gojō’s kinky in the sense that sex with him is always exciting and new, so while he’s not always incorporating extremes, he might just grab his blindfold and put it on you once, or mid-sex he’ll ask you, “wonder if i can make you cum on command,” or something of the sort. also. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. gojō probably has a piss kink im so sorry. 

nanami kentō

mostly vanilla. accidentally kinky. sex is something very important to nanami, something so intimate and special, something he wouldn’t share with just anybody, so most of the time it’s just that, a chase after your pleasure and his. but he is like, accidentally kinky sometimes, especially when he’s angry. he’ll be extra rough, practically using your body to chase after his own high, degrading and humiliating you, you know how it is. so essentially, he’s vanilla, with a hint of kinky that’s unlock-able during certain situations. but! just cause he’s vanilla doesn’t in no way mean you will be able to walk the next day, because you won’t. trust. 

ryomen sukuna 

this one’s weird cause, sex is traditional with him, but also it’s really, really not? like he has sex for the pleasure and he fucks to fuck, and he thinks things like toys or bindings or roleplay and he doesn’t like wasting time edging you or going all out with scenes, but he is kinky in the sense that there is huge power dynamic going on between you, or that he loves to see you cry, or that he loves to see you writhe in pain, or that he loves to call you the nastiest names. so like, he’s kinky, but that’s because that’s just who he is. it’s his personality projecting sexually, you get me? sukuna acting differently or weirdly would be him being vanilla, him being soft. (he is, very, very, very rarely). but does that make any sense? so yeah he’s kinky, but not for any other reason than him displaying his personality traits sexually. 

getō suguru

oof he’s so kinky. will put you on a leash and take you out if you let him, honestly. the thing is, he’s so subtle about it. it’s not that he’s private, he’s just really fucking subtle that sometimes he’ll be the one with the kink but it will seem like it’s you? somehow? manipulative bastard. he’s also so suave and cool about how kinky he is too. like he wants you in a collar kneeling before him, but he’s acting like it’s the most natural thing ever? like that’s just how everybody gets off? idk he’s hella kinky but seems so vanilla and for that reason we should all be scared. or aroused. both. 

inumaki toge

not so much kinky as he is open and adventurous, but also like, not exactly vanilla either. he definitely has a freaky and nasty side to him, but he’s not itching to live out those fantasies. i don’t think they’re so extreme either though, like it’s different and nontraditional, and they’re certainly kinks, but he’s not gonna suspend you mid air with a vibrator attached to you. but will he force orgasms out of you with his technique till it’s borderline painful? absolutely. honestly, toge’s leaning more towards vanilla than kinky, just cause yeah he’s for sure open to try out things, but he himself doesn’t really have anything too extreme to try out or in mind, you know? idk he’s always so difficult for me to figure out im sorry. 

todo aoi

idk man he just. fucks cause. yk. sex! i think if you ask him to choke you he might be genuinely so shocked, and that’s one of the most common kinks out there. he does seem like he’d be into pet play though, maybe, possibly. but genuinely i don’t think there’s an ounce of kinkiness in him. sex with him leaves you braindead for sure, and yeah of course there’s the whole size kink and stomach bulge thing going on, but he just. you know. he’s a basic bitch. a basic bitch with a monster fucking cock though. 

fushiguro toji

it’s kinda like the sukuna thing. it’s just his personality. so i guess he is kinky, but like. what else would you expect from someone like him? *a sexy ass dilf like him? so something like a power kink or a size kink is obvious, of course he’ll get off on that. but also, separate from sukuna, i think he does have so many kinks that are separate from his personality projecting, things like orgasm denial or breeding or! his weird obsession with sex toys. plugs you up after cumming inside of you and makes you go out like that, cause you know, he’s an asshole. 

mahito 

kinkiest fucking person. or curse. he can alter his body. he can alter his body. can you imagine the shit he’d do to you with that? obsessed with sex toys, any form of orgasm play, denial or overstimulation, will suspend you mid-air with some toy attached to you, is an exhibitionist, would love to have a gang bang, praise, degradation, cum play, literally anything and everything you can fucking imagine. he’s like gojō but nastier and unhinged. a menace to society in every way, but at least he’s pretty and giggles cutely. 

ranking time! from vanilla to kinky, we have 

1. todo aoi 

2. nanami kentō

3. inumaki toge

4. itadori yuuji

5. ryomen sukuna 

6. fushiguro toji

7. getō suguru 

8. fushiguro megumi 

9. gojō satoru  

10. mahito

[object-show-analysis]

Flower’s character arc and where it came from

A lot of people seem to think Flower’s actions in the final episode of BFB were out of character or came out of no where. So let’s talk about it.

Most claims I see when people accuse characters of acting “ooc” in the finale seem to come from an inability to recognize the slow progression/change in goals. Yes, characters like Four and Firey all might seem out of character if you judge them from the first time we see them in the show, but what they’ve been trying to achieve has been slowly changing throughout the course of BFB, to the point where it was relatively easy to predict their actions in the final episode.

But when it comes to Flower, it’s even more than that. Her actions line up with everything we’ve been told about her since episode 1.

From Episode 1 of BFDI we’ve known one thing about Flower. Her motivation is Attention. She wants to be Seen. She wants to be Admired. She wants to be Loved. A good season one example of this is her first ever line in the show:

She hasn’t even shown her face yet and she’s already asked someone to what they think of her physical appearance.

This behavior can be dated back to the Firey Comics, but as those don’t count as fully canon in the BFDI lore, I won’t discuss them.

Early on it’s established that Flower wants attention and admiration from other people, so you can imagine it must have hurt when she’s the first to get eliminated.

And we Know it hurt her. But we’ll get back to that in a moment.

BFB put a lot of effort into giving the very 2D characters more 3D personalities. In the first episode of BFB, we get an interesting parallel to Flower’s appearance being insulting in the first episode of BFDI

Ruby claims, seemingly out of no where, that she thinks Flower is beautiful. This immediately grabs Flower’s attention. As up until this point, no one has seemed to believe she was attractive.

Flower is later seen in episode 5 of BFB to be astonished by Ruby’s opinion of her, asking her to help get other people to think she’s beautiful as well. This re-establishes the idea that Flower’s main goal is to be seen as beautiful.

When Ruby says that she no longer thinks Flower is beautiful, it upsets Flower quite a lot. Leading to her changing her appearance in any way she can, allowing herself to be berated by Ruby in an effort to make Ruby like her again. All because “it does feel nice being called beautiful again,”

So right away we already know a few things about Flower

1. She wants people to think she’s beautiful

2. She’s willing to do things that are frustrating or demeaning if it means people will think she’s beautiful

3. It makes her feel good when someone says she’s beautiful

This behavior seems to stay solid for most of BFB, though the root of her desire does seem to shift.

The desire to be seen as beautiful widens over time into a desire to be Liked. As she shows in more and more competitions a desire to impress her team.

The fact that she wants to be liked seems to become more obvious post-split. Starting with her getting angry when Taco wants to be with Spongy instead of her, and her reaction Firey thinking of her as a friend in BFB 18.

Clearly Flower puts a lot of value on people who like her. And over time she develops more friends who really understand her and care about her. (Most notably Firey, Loser and Leafy), to the point where she’s not afraid to turn Taco away when she rethinks Flower’s alliance offer.

She is still very trusting and eager to form new relationships, which leads to TD being able to manipulate her in episode 27, but over all Flower seems to really evolve as a character. Shes more confident in herself and her abilities. She works to be more understanding of the people around her. And she tries very hard in everything she does.

She makes it clear in BFB 24 that elimination is something she fears a lot, which is understandable considering she was the only person to be completely alone in the TLC in BFDI, and being eliminated would undo all the hard work she put in.

Her panicked monologue after Purple Face leads her to believe she’s being eliminated tells us a lot about her. She tells us “I played the whole season wanting to redeem myself” which proves she’s been working hard to undo past mistakes and become a kind person. She feels humiliated at the very idea of being eliminated.

But something interesting that will be important to her behavior in episode 30 is that while she’s going over all her regrets, never once does she mention the actual prize. She says she wanted to prove everyone wrong again. “Everyone” being the people who thought she’d get out. She wants to show that she’s worth something. She wants to redeem herself. And in her eyes, winning is the way to do that. The actual prize of the game was never in her mind.

This is why it doesn’t seem surprising when she gives Gelatin the BFB. She knows he wanted it more than anyone else. And in the end, the prize wasn’t what she wanted at all. This is the same reason she eventually forfeits the BFDI to the announcer as well. Though she was reluctant to give it up as a sign of her effort. The actual prizes weren’t what she was fighting for.

Flower wanted something far more valuable than the BFDI and the BFB. She wanted people. People who saw her as beautiful. People who supported her. People that loved her. And people who she loved back. That’s what winning was to her.

And considering the show ends with her wishing two of her best friends good luck on their journey, and then turning to look at all the other people that she’s formed bonds with over the course of the show

She really did win, didn’t she?

[mitsukui]

what you do is secret | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x female reader.

Summary: Fred is caught red-handed ━ based off this request I got! It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a bit carried away, heh.

Word Count: 1,8k of pure smut (I FEEL NASTY).

Warnings: smut! Masturbation and oral sex (male receiving both). I imagined it taking place on April 5, 1996, during the Easter holiday, right before Fred and George left Hogwarts, so all characters are 18+!

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: thank you so much for the request, anon! Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Your ears perked up as you heard something that sounded quite novel to you. You leaned in closer to the wooden door and pressed your ear against the cold surface, your hand being placed right beside your face.

Loud whines and shaky sighs echoed in one of the Gryffindor dorms - the one that belonged to Fred Weasley and four other boys. You worriedly furrowed your eyebrows together, fearing for the worst. It was impossible for you to know who was on the other side of the door, yet you could not leave someone there, to suffer somehow.

You had gone to Fred's dorm to ask him if he wanted to do something together before the Easter holiday was over, especially because you both had recently turned eighteen, but still had not gotten the chance to celebrate it. However, you now stood with a heavy heart inside your chest.

Until you heard it.

Fred moaned huskily and, if your ears were not playing tricks on you, you could swear your name left his lips, too. A trail of lustful whimpers continued flourishing between the walls of his dorm, and you continued there, behind the door, listening to him.

It was deliciously intoxicating. By now, it was pretty clear what he was doing, but you did not feel bothered by it one bit. In fact, you felt pretty honored to become aware of the fact that you occupied his mind even in moments like that one.

A smirk flashed across your face and you leaned in even further towards the door, trying to destroy the only thing existing between the two of you. Your insides started to tingle, and a feeling that you had never experienced before took shape in your loins.

Closing your eyes, you attempted to imagine what Fred looked like at that moment. You had never seen him completely naked before, which meant you could allow your imagination to run wild and, oh boy!, you did it.

The image of him being shirtless popped into the back of your mind, and a dreamy sigh escaped your lips. That was a sight you were used to, not that you had any complaints about it. His milky skin with a constellation of numerous tiny freckles became vivid in your head, and you could see all of his muscles. His veins were there, too, leading down to the place you wanted to see the most.

Your eyelashes fluttered and you pressed your thighs together, the new sensation sinking in your body. Suddenly, it all became too much for you. You could not stand in silence there and only listen.

The wooden door was gently pushed, scaring Fred being the last item on your list of intended actions, and your curious eyes fell upon the stone eyes first and then, upon him.

He was the only one in the boys’ dormitory, his body spread on his bed. One of his hands was wrapped around his cock while the other held tightly on his sheets. His eyes were closed, his lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

Fred Weasley had been dominated by a huge pang of crave for you.

Everything you did was magical to him. He spent many hours wondering how someone could be so seductive without even noticing. The way you licked your fingers after eating something with your own hands, the habit you had of biting down on your lower lip, the breathy sighs that escaped from you every single time his lips brushed against your skin, the urgency you had to dig your nails onto his skin whenever he kissed your neck.

He was unable to look at you and not feel the need to pleasure himself.

Almost like you were in a trance, you stood still and watched him quietly. Your eyes captured every movement he made: his hand moving up and down, his grip on the sheets becoming tighter each second, his chest rising and then falling again, his toes curling, his hips bucking up, his tongue wetting his lips, and his Adam’s apple moving roughly every time he cursed out in lust.

You felt like a new world had been discovered, and you wanted to dive right into it. Your body had been taken by a billion of unprecedented jitters and you ached to do something about it. Nothing had ever happened between you and Fred until that very moment, but you were determined to change that.

Tiptoeing your way to his bed, you fought against the enormous need to immediately touch him. It was not like you knew what to do, but copying his actions seemed to be a good idea, once he was moaning repeatedly now.

“You look so hot right now.” Even though your voice came out as a silky whisper, he still got a tad startled. He opened his eyes to find you approaching him to down on his bed, extremely close to his trembling. Almost choking on his own breath, he tried to cover himself and come up with an explanation for what was happening, but you shushed him with a brief peck.

“Don’t stop.”

He felt as if he had heard incorrectly, but then nodded obediently and his hands started pumping his shaft again. As much as you wanted to continue looking at him and to study his face contorting in pleasure, what was going on down there was so much more interesting.

So you did. You looked at his cock. More precum leaked from his reddish tip, a new desire from being watched appearing in his groins, and was soon spread all over his member by the way his hand traveled all the way up and then down again. He kept a rapid pace, a very light pressure being put on his movements.

“Go slower.” You spat out of nowhere, a little dominant creature coming to life inside you. Perhaps, you were not experienced enough to touch him. You surely knew how to use your words, though. “Go very, very slow and use your other hand to run your fingers across your tip.”

At first, neither of you knew what had gotten into you. But it was obvious you two were enjoying it.

He followed your commands and cried out loud at the sensation of his sensitive being touched. His hips bucked up, and your hands all of a sudden pushed them down. Your warm touched caused him to squirm.

“Yes, just like that, Freddie.” You cooed and let one of your hands to run over his flexed abs. Just then you noticed how tense he was, and how he had been breathing heavily. “You okay? You seem a little bit tense…”

He chuckled at your oblivion for sexual matters, which only turned him on even more, and spoke through weak murmurs. “Yeah, it’s just that I’m close, you know? About to cum.”

“So I want you to stop, Freddie.” You placed your hand over one of his and gave it a light squeeze. He looked confused for one second, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. But he did not follow your orders this time; he continued stubbornly moving both of his hands, the fast pace returning to his actions.

“But I’m so close, princess. Just let me cum, please, I’m really close.”

“Stop.” Your voice sounded slightly strict, and he groaned in ecstasy. This side of yours was completely new to you two, but the effect was much bigger on him.

Once his hands were no longer moving according to his pleasure, you took his lips on yours and kissed him slowly. You moved your tongue sloppily, your teeth grazing his lip ever so softly, and your fingers roaming his body.

Your kisses were not exactly the most innocent thing in the universe at that moment, and he still whined from time to time, asking to continue his little game.

“Go on, Freddie, touch yourself for me.”

A moan escaped his lips and, as soon as he wrapped his shaft around his fingers again, you lightly ran over fingers over his tip. He arched his back and murmured for you to continue.

“Do you like that?” Fred panted and tried to form coherent sentences to answer you properly, but he was only able to whimper and nod his head. “Does it feel good?” He repeated his actions from seconds before and you smiled, looking back at him for the first time after a while.

Boldly, you placed your hand over his and mimicked the way he caressed his cock. A pool of arousal was being gathered on your panties, and you pressed your thighs together again, trying to get some relief. His eyes captured your actions and he loved discovering he had some sort of effect on you. The pleasure within him was growing to be too much again.

“Princess, please. I’m close.”

But you stopped again. An utter frustration painted his insides and he groaned loudly. A light pain was felt by him, and Fred pleaded you to let him cum. You shook your head sweetly, and explained to him you were mesmerized by the show.

“Let’s try this one more time, shall we?”

Now you positioned yourself between his legs and, for the first time since it had started, you felt a wave of anxiety playing with your heart. You had never done anything like that before, but there was something about the position that Fred was in that really tempted you.

“Can you guide me through it?”

If he was not so painfully aroused, he would have grabbed your face and littered a ton of kisses on it. But he had other cravings at that moment, and it was high time he acted on them.

“Start by using your tongue, princess.”

It was turn to follow orders and you did it amazingly well. In a very short period of time, he was close to reaching his so postponed orgasm and you wanted to see what it would result in.

After his requests, you did not stop. You kept on using your tongue, hollowing your cheeks and moaning against his cock. But you acted painfully slow, frustration growing inside him again. He felt humiliated, ready to feel his warm tears stinging and staining his cheeks.

And then, it happened. You felt the warm strings of his release exploding in your mouth. You tasted his cum and, even though it was not the most pleasant thing that had laid on your tongue, you enjoyed it enormously.

He needed a minute or two to return from his high and, when he did, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened a bit. As you swallowed his cum, secretly wondering if you had done the right thing, he cleared his throat, and groaned one final time.

“How about I take care of you now, princess?”

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1976  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern.  You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

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

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius​

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)

Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son. 

“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.

“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”

“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel. 

“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him. 

“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl’s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”

The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband. 

“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly. 

He wasn’t good at courtly.

When he thought about it none of them were. 

“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.

“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.

“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.

Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.

They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.

The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear. 

This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.

“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.” 

The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.

Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. 

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”

The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected. 

His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally. 

“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.

“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”

“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”

She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.

They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.

“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.

“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”

“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”

Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us. 

“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up. 

“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”

Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”

They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.

Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.

On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt. 

Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.

Then came the hard bit.

Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.

Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet. 

It was black, which was good.

That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.

And he would be wearing it. 

He did wear it. 

His hands shook as he buttoned it up. 

He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly. 

“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”

“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.

The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.

Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.

“Come in.” 

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door. 

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Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.

[dangermousie]

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

Little Girl. (Younger!Nine/Wookjin x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Semi-Noncon, humiliation, degradation, size kink, fingering, slapping, hair pulling, choking, strong language, older!y/n, spanking, wedging, a dash of fear kink. Read at your own risk. Both of you are of legal age in this.

The air in Y/n's apartment was thick with tension as she awkwardly nodded at Wookjin, the son of her kind neighbour lady seated comfortably on the couch in her living room as she fumbled through one of her drawers, grabbing the teaching notes she needed to help the boy with, still clad in her work clothes which were a tight black pencil skirt and a pretty peach dress shirt, feet bare.

Wookjin bit his lip as she looked her tight ass up and down from behind since she was crouching to level herself with the piece of furniture. The boy was struggling to fight the urge to undo the high professional bun her hair was in. It looked so pretty when it was down, flowing down her shoulders and ending just above her waist. Fuck. She was so beautiful. It was a shame how she was all smiles with him when she first moved in the apartment complex but started avoiding him when she learnt that he was just a college sophomore.

Y/n sighed as she dropped a booklet yet again, trying to suppress the shudder in her fingers. Although she had her back to the boy, the woman knew he was staring. God damn. He was always fucking staring. She hated it. If it weren't for his friendly and kind mother, she never would have agreed to tutor Wookjin.

She wanted to smack herself for being so stupid. Without knowing his age Y/n had so stupidly flirted with him here and there when she first moved in. Only to find out that he was 5 fucking years younger than her.

And the fact that his door was right opposite to hers didn't fucking help.

"O- Okay!" Finally standing up with the materials and notes she needed, Y/n softly pulled in a long breath, closing the drawer with her foot before whipping around. "Let's sta-" a surprised scream escaped the girl, the bunch in her hand falling down on the ground when she came chest to face contact with the younger one, blinking up at him in surprise, unconsciously gulping down a bike.

"W- What are you doing, Wookjin?" Her voice broke towards the end of the sentence, breath hitching as she reflexively tried to step back, ass hitting the chest of drawers.

"Tsk. Don't hurt that pretty little butt now." The woman's cheeks flushed hot at his vulgar words, heart leaping up in her throat when he placed his hand on the piece of furniture besides her, leaning down to level his face to her smaller height.

"W- Wookjin! What is this-!"

"Tsk." Using the back of his hand to lightly slap her pretty lips, the boy clicked his tongue. "Funny how you talk so much yet go mute whenever I am around" inching his lips closer to the female's, Wookjin stared down at her pretty lips, breaths getting heavier against them. "What did I even do, hm? One moment you were acting like you wanted me to fuck all your holes numb the next you started avoiding me for no reason." Before he could stop himself, his slender fingers wrapped around her pretty neck.

Fuck. It felt even better than he'd imagined. So soft, so thin, so pretty and vulnerable.

He felt his cock getting hard.

"Hm?" Raising an eyebrow he trailed his fingers up and towards her jaw, cupping it before his thumb rubbed her luscious bottom lip. "Cat got your tongue again, hm?"

Y/n felt tears welling up in her eyes. Fuck. She felt so small and weak. Body frozen. "T- This is... wrong" was the only thing she could whisper helplessly. So wrong yet so good. But she didn't want to admit it. "I- I am older-"

"Tsk." Closing the distance between them in a swift motion, Wookjin pressed his lips against hers, almost moaning at the heavenly feeling. Fuck. They were so wet and soft. "Seriously?" He whispered against her lips after pulling back, other hand trailing up her sides. "That's your lame reason? Age doesn't determine anything. If you're a weak little girl who needs someone to take care of her you just are-"

"N- No!" Her features hardened, displeasing the boy as she tried to stop the hand that was travelling down to her ass, weakly pushing at his strong chest. "I am n- not weak! This is wrong! I knew this was a bad idea! Get ou-" her words locked up in her throat in surprise when a soft slap was placed on her cheek.

"Really? Funny you say that because I see you struggling with basic tasks around the complex all the time. It's quite pathetic actually. How someone your age still can't do basic things properly. A surprise how you secured this job you have honestly." Y/n's cheeks glowed red in embarrassment at his words.

Fuck. She hated how his words effected her. From the butterflies in her stomach all the way down south.

No. Wookjin was so much younger than her. He was basically a kid and she was a university lecturer. How could she let him treat her like that and make her feel do small?

And just why the fuck did she like it?

Ugh.

Her head was spinning.

"S- Shut… up" the boy threw his head back and let out a loud laugh at her petty little words.

"Aw is that the best you've got, huh little girl?" Shaking his head, he whipped the older around and forcefully pushed her against the chest of drawers, not hesitating to rip her tight little skirt all the way up to her ass, pulling at the g-string she was wearing underneath in a harsh and humiliating wedgie, landing slaps on her ass.

"Look at this pathetic little thing thinking she can decide things around here. Tsk." Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, helplessly gripping the furniture as her face burnt in embarrassment, toes barely touching the ground due to the wedgie she was in.

Fuck. It hurt so good. She hated it.

"Quiet again, huh?" Squeezing and pulling at one of her fat ass cheeks, Wookjin landed another harsh spank, pulling the wedgie up and down. "Good. Little girls like you should stay quiet and let Daddy take care of them. That's when they're the prettiest" her chest was heaving up and down, ass crack, pussy and butt cheeks on fire from the assault they were under.

The woman how good it felt. She felt so vulnerable and weak. So helpless. And then being treated like such a small little thing by someone so much younger that she'd tried to act all big in front of.

An involuntary moan escaped her when Wookjin moved the string covering her vaginal opening to the side, still having her hanging from the wedgie. "Let's take a look at Daddy's property, shall we?" Followed by a deep chuckle. "Would you look at that!" Y/n's whole body jerked forward from the harsh smack her pussy received. "Acting all innocent and like you don't like it but actually pathetically dripping down there, tsk."

Leaning forward and over her back, the boy placed his chin on her shoulder, middle finger slowly stroking her swollen folds. "But you actually love this, don't you? You filthy little thing" biting down on her ear lobe, the male pulled at it, rubbing her flesh in circular motions, fingertip prodding her entrance. "Being taken care of by Daddy because you're clearly so pathetic on your own." Biting down on her lips, Y/n felt sweat trickling down the back of her thighs, knees trembling and pussy clenching at how good it all felt. "So desperate that you'd let someone so much younger than you put you in your little place."

"P- Please!" The girl whined at last when she felt his covered erection graze against her asshole, the hole clenching in defense. "Please!" Sweat broke down on her forehead, another whine escaping her.

"Please what?" Wookjin breathed in her ear, kissing down her neck and biting the soft skin of her neck softly.

She was so going to regret this when it was over. But Y/n figured she could worry about that later.

"P- Please, W- Wookjin… m- more…" A grin spread across his devilishly handsome face when he heard the words, getting even hard at how pretty she sounded. "P- Please… please… T- Take care of me, D- Daddy… Hhhhaahhhh~" her eyes rolled to the back of her head when his finger slipped in the tight ring of muscles of her virgin pussy.

Yes. You heard it right.

"Good slut…" The boy praised, letting go of the wedgie and allowing her to stand on her feet, gripping her throat and choking her again, pushing her face all the way back and kissing her soft lips upside down, pushing his tongue in and exchanging saliva, finger fucking her tight pussy steady and good. "How does my pretty whore feel?" Letting go of her throat, he messily undid her hair, painfully aroused himself.

"S- So good!" Tears leaked out of her eyes as she cried from the pleasure. Y/n looked so pretty it was blowing Wookjin's mind. Beautiful face red, pretty eyes red eyes full of tears, breaths heavy, skin covered in sweat, legs spread as her underwear laid stretched out on one side, disheveled hair decorating her body and pupils delated, a hickey forming on her neck. "P- Please, more!"

"Fuck!" The boy whispered impatiently, plopping his fingers out of her to have the girl whined with a pout, chuckling deeply before turning her around by the help of her hair, putting her up on the piece of furniture before ripping her shirt open along her bra.

"S- Shit… you're so strong" a smug grin etched on the boy's face at her words as he pushed all the ripped fabrics out of the way, cupping her soft and fat breasts, feeling her hard numbs with the pad of his thumbs, biting his lip when she moaned from the feeling of having her tits massaged.

"Ready, little girl?" Unbuckling his pants, Wookjin uncovered his hard erection, pumping it up and down before smirking. "Brace yourself here I come ready or not~" He loved the worried look on her face as she stared at his huge cock.

"Is it even normal for it to be that big?" She innocently asked, blinking at the boy with her legs spread wide, hands out of the way and fat tits glistening with sweat.

"Awww look at this cute whore being so inexperienced" the boy cooed, wrapping his hands in her hair and aligning his tip with entrance with the help of the other. "Not that I am complaining though-" his words were cut short into a low gasp when he slowly entered her slightly fucked open virgin entrance, grunting at how her walls hugged him. "Fuck!"

"I- I've never done this before with anyone… n- not even myself…" Throwing her head back, the girl cried out, clenching around Wookjin's fat cock in defense, thighs trembling as she felt his lips wrap around one of her nipples, tongue swirling around the fat nub. "B- Because no matter how hard I tried… i- it never felt good, Daddy! Ever!" The woman whined needily, relishing in the pain. "I- It hurts so good, Daddy… Y- You're so good!"

Wookjin fucked her harder upon hearing the confession, grabbing her throat and squeezing the air out of her, biting her other nipple before pulling at it, slapping the other recently abused boob, fondling it before slapping it again, causing the girl to cry out.

"Because you were meant to be my cock sleeve only, babygirl. Of course nobody else can pleasure you like I can. Not even if you try, but-" gripping her soft cheeks, the boy pulled her red and teary face closer to his. "You wouldn't dare, would you?" Y/n whimpered from the frightening look in his eyes, gulping. "What? Didn't hear me?" Slapping her cheek, he gripped her face tightly again. "Answer when you're being spoken to!"

Y/n clenched around his cock, whining loudly before nodding hurriedly. "I- I wouldn't! Never! I would never! I am all y- yours!" She loved how he was treating her. Fuck. He was so good and more. It was perfect.

"Good girl." Wookjin smirked in a satisfied manner, pulling her closer on his cock and himself by her knee, making her scream because it caused his balls to slightly push in her now gaping hole. "Fuck, babygirl… you're much tighter than I'd imagined." Slapping her now bruised marked tits, the boy fucked her walls harder, starting to rub her clit.

The girl yelped, her back arching from the pleasure as she gripped at the younger's strong shoulders, nails digging into his skin and eyes hitting the back of her head from the pleasure, pussy expanding even more now that his balls were also ramming in and out of her, one of the male's hands groping her ass, middle finger stroking her hole which shrunk even smaller in defense.

Whining softly, Y/n's head weakly fell on one of his shoulders, chest heaving up and down as she trembled from the pleasure, softly nibbling on the skin of his neck.

The male chuckled devilishly, prodding her butthole teasingly with the tip of his finger while snapping his hips swift and rough. "Not yet?" He referred towards anal, ignoring the stuff that was falling off the chest from how hard he was fucking her, the loud banging noise of the furniture hitting the wall eliminating the silence in the apartment.

"That's alright, babygirl. We'll get there. None of us are going anywhere, after all."

.

Unedited. Honestly, even idk what this is LMFAOOOOOO.

[fawnandshadows]

After the Ceremony - Chapter 4

Hello Everyone! I am so excited to share Chapter 4 with you guys. I am so appreciative of all of the love I've received from the first three chapter, and I want you guys to know that I have chapter 5 written! Chapter 5 is officially the last chapter, and it will be out next week. This fic is also available on AO3.

I hope you guys enjoy xoxo

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian’s Mating Ceremony.

Words: 3,550

Story Rating: M

Elain was flustered all through breakfast. There was a burning between her thighs, and from the way everyone was studiously avoiding her gaze, she knew that everyone was aware of it. That they could scent it. Elain would have been absolutely mortified if she wasn’t so focused on not throwing herself at Azriel, who was seated as far away from her as possible. He was on the opposite end of the table, sitting across from Nesta, and Elain wanted nothing more than to peel herself out of her dress and feel Azriel’s skin on her - to feel Azriel as he pushed into her warm heat and filled her until she -

“Elain,” Nesta said from two seats over, breaking Elain out of her very vivid daydream. “Would you ever consider training with us? Cass and I talked it over and we thought it might be a good idea.”

Elain leaned over Cassian's hulking form, which was shoveling eggs into his mouth, to look at Nesta. Her sister looked radiant, way too radiant for someone who spent the night making love to her newly mated male, in fact they both looked suspiciously well rested, and not at all as restless as Elain felt. She felt like an electric current was coursing through her veins and the only thing that could soothe it was a certain shadowsinger who was pointedly ignoring her. Elain meant to respond to her sister, but her eyes drifted back to the male sitting across from her. She noticed how his arms flex, just a little, as they brought a cup of water up to his lips, and Elain thought about how his naked arms would look as he took her on the table, one hand under her knee and the other fisted in her hair, pulling just a little as he thrust -

Azriel choked on his water. His wide eyes with surprise as they met hers, and he looked flustered. The scary spymaster and shadowsinger, looked at her with an open jaw, bright red cheeks, and water dribbling down his chin.

The ache at her core throbbed at the sight of him. She wanted to see Azriel flustered more often.

Amren smacked him on the back, her eyes going back and forth between the two of them, before smacking his back a little harder than necessary, as if to remind them of Elains mate that was sitting at the table. Lucien glowered at Azriel before going back to his breakfast and conversation with Feyre, who was sitting at the end of the table to Elains right.

Cassian looked at Azriel for a minute before stating, “You need to get laid.”

Elain felt her eyes go wide at her brother-in-laws comment before hiding her face in her hair. She thought about how close they had come the night before, and she was kicking herself for stopping them. Waiting had seemed like such a good idea last night, but right now all Elain wanted was for Azriel to make love to her and never stop. She wanted him to claim her in a way that nobody ever had. She wanted him to leave a mark on her so that every other fae in Prythian would know who owned her heart- who she gave her heart two.

“Cassian!” Feyre exclaimed, carefully keeping her eyes off of her sister. “We’re eating breakfast.”

“Tell that to him,” Cassian said and pointed a finger at Azriel. “He’s the one that is stinking up the room with his arousal,” Which earned him a punch in the arm courtesy of Nesta. Elain had thought that everyone could smell her arousal, but did they think it was Azriels? Did their scents smell the same, but if they thought it was Azriel’s arousal, then why weren’t they looking at her. Unless they thought she was the reason for his current state.

The usually unflappable spymaster was so flushed that his only response to Cassian was a murderous glare and a swift “shut up.” Elain took in the sharp line of his jaw, and imagined running her tongue over it. How could she not have done that the night before? She imagined that jaw between her legs, while his tongue was pressing against her core, and she could feel it.

“So you think Elain should train?” Feyre said from Elain’s left, trying to get the conservation normal again.

Elain was suddenly bombarded with a mental image of her in Illyrian leathers, but she was kneeling in front of someone. The scarred hand that tangled in her hair told her she was kneeling in front of Azriel. Her mouth was opened and she was licking his -

It was Elain’s turn to gasp this time, her eyes flying to Azriel, who looked at her with a smirk. Did he know what she saw? That was impossible, no one ever saw her visions but her. Unless it wasn’t a vision…

A soft coolness brushed against her bare leg under the table, and Elain knew it was a shadow. She didn’t know whether this particular shadow was bold, or if it was under the directions of Azriel. Either way she was curious to find out. She bit her lip and glanced towards the shadowsinger, whose face was unreadable, but his eyes were suspiciously bright. He definitely knew what he was doing.

The shadow caressed her leg so delicately Elain was surprised she felt it. Feeling the shadow against her skin cooled her down just enough so that she could gather her thoughts to feel humiliation creeping up her spine like ivy, as she finally understood the situation.

Oh Mother. Her family could smell her arousal.

Her face burned hotter than ever before. She needed to excuse herself from the table.

Elain stood up so fast she thought she was going to faint, and ignored the six pairs of eyes watching her, and she muttered some excuse about helping the twins in the kitchen. She turned so quickly she almost toppled her chair, and she left behind a plate of cold eggs as she practically ran from the room.

She didn’t go to the kitchen. She bolted past it and out the side door, not bothering to take in her surroundings — otherwise she wouldn’t have tripped over the uneven patch of the cobblestone path leading to her garden, and continued straight to her little gardening shed.

It actually wasn’t so little. Elain’s gardening shed was practically a cabin. She had insisted on something smaller, just a regular wooden tool shed, but Rhysand in all his generosity wanted to build her something big enough for her to live in, so they came to a compromise. There was one big main room, filled with everything she could possibly want to garden with, a small kitchenette and bathroom fitted with running water, and Rhysand convinced her to add a small bedroom in case she tired while gardening. Despite his meddling her brother-in-law did love to spoil her.

Her shed was the only place she could feel truly alone at the river house, and she hoped that the smell of flowers and various fertilizers would cover the scent of her arousal. Elain barely noticed the hot tears sliding down her face as she slammed the door shut, she was feeling too many emotions to care about anything, and despite her confusion and humiliation, her desire for Azriel was so strong, and the burning at her core came back with a vengeance, that nothing really mattered to her. Every cell in her body wanted to be claimed by Azriel.

Elain collapsed in on herself. Her body hit the floor with a thud, and she brought her knees up to her chest in a hug. She sat there crying for a minute before she heard her name being whispered in the shadows. Her head whipped around so quickly she almost struck it against the door — at first she only saw shadow, but then there was Azriel clear as day with inky shadows swirling around his form.

“Az,” Elain exclaimed before getting to her feet and throwing herself at him. She expected to feel his hardened muscles, the softness of his shirt against her cheek, and the thrill of his calloused fingers against her skin, but she felt nothing except cool air. Elain took a step back and looked at him in confusion.

“It’s a trick I learned. Very helpful for spying, but not so much for comforting,” Az explained, and his face softened into concern as he continued. “Are you ok?”

“I’m so confused, and humiliated,” Elain sniffed as she brought her arms around herself. Her voice turned to a whisper as she said, “And all I want is for you to touch me the way you did last night and to never stop. I-I don’t understand.” She hiccuped.

“I’m not exactly sure what is happening, but I promise you I will find out. I want nothing more than to touch you too,” Az let out a groan that skittered over Elains skin and caused her aching center to throb. “But I don’t think I should see you until you… settle down.” After seeing the horrified look on her face he continued. “Not because I don’t want to, but because of what you said last night. You wanted to be free the first time we — made love— and I want to respect that. I’ll tell everyone that you aren’t feeling well, and I’ll have Nuala and Cerridwen bring you food and everything you need.”

“Are you not affected?” Elain asked in a whisper.

“I am, but I have been feeling this for a long time, Elain. I have wanted you for so long and been denied — every part of me is screaming to go to you right now, but I don’t want everyone to know. Well, I want to rub it in everyone’s face that the prettiest girl in Pyrthian wants to be with me,” Azriel shook his head with a small smile. “However, you know how our family can be.”

Elain nodded in understanding, and her tears subsided just a little. Azriel thought that she was the prettiest girl in Prythian. Happiness bloomed in her chest like a rose in spring.

“When will I see you again?” Elain asked and another thought occurred to her. “Are you still at breakfast?”

“No, I left a moment or two after you. I didn’t want everyone noticing that the scent in the room was lessening, so I left too. Rhysand and Lucien looked like they wanted to kill me, but fuck ‘em.”

A small giggle erupted from Elain as she said, “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

Azriel blinked in surprise before tossing his head back in laughter.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise. I don’t want to be away from you any more than you want to be away from me,” Azriel said with a blush. “I’m assuming.”

“You’re correct.” Elain gave him her best smile — one that hopefully said she wasn’t going to climb the walls in desperation and want. “I miss you.” Elain said and her smile turned shy.

“I miss you too,” Azriel said with a heartbreaking smile. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

Elain said goodbye before he vanished into shadows.

Azriel felt weird about going to the library in his current state. He knew that the females that worked there had experienced trauma in the past and that the library was a safe haven for them, and he was more than embarrassed to be entering their sanctuary with the stench of arousal dripping off of him. Clotho hadn’t seemed to notice, however, when she saw him and directed him to the fourth floor. Az didn’t get the chance to say why he was there.

He did his best to avoid the priestess’ as he made his way to the fourth floor, which was suspiciously easy — almost as if they could smell him coming and knew not to go near him. The next training session was going to be uncomfortable.

When Az finally got to the section Clotho had directed him to he was stunned to find Mor sitting at a table with dozens of books spread out and propped open, she was pouring over an ancient looking book when her brown eyes looked up and met his.

She looked pleasantly surprised as she said, ���You’re here sooner than I expected.”

“Mor,” Azriel said with a sigh and rubbed his temples. He could feel the beginning of a headache approaching. “What the hell is going on.”

The girl looked at him with pity before patting the seat next to her.

“I’ve been looking into all kinds of bonds that can occur between fae,” Mor started and held up a worn red book, “regular, run of the mill mating bonds,” She set her book down before picking up a fraying and tattered green one. “Surprisingly they have a book on bonds that can be made by the Cauldron — ancient, and in a language I barely understand,” Mor set the book down gingerly before picking up a hefty blue leather bound book. “And volumes, so many volumes, of mating bonds throughout the history of Prythian. This one here is just the greatest hits, but the next aisle over,” She set the book down and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Has over 70 books detailing various mating bonds throughout history in the tiniest print you have ever seen. I didn’t know it was possible to write that small, but Mother bless the person who came up with the anti-aging spell for ink and parchment.”

Azriel stared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take my thank you any day now.” Mor said.

“Why are you doing this?” Azriel asked in a calm voice. He looked at her intently as she tried to keep her face blank, but ended up turning the book opened in front of her.

“I want you to be happy,” Mor said in a quiet voice, so different from her usual boisterous self. “After,” She nibbled on her lip to collect her thoughts. “After 500 years you deserve happiness. I feel almost responsible, and I just-” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “You and Elain both deserve to be happy.”

Azriel looked at her for a second before saying, “Thank you,” He let a moment pass before adding, “I want you to be happy too.”

He could see her eyes start to line with silver, but she managed to crack a smile.

“I’ll be happy once I can leave, Az,” She deadpanned which caused Azriel to roll his eyes. “So get to work.”

They spent at least three hours sifting through book after book only to come up empty handed. Azriel didn’t know what he expected, but he thought he would be able to find something that would at least point him in the right direction. He certainly didn’t think there would be that many books on mating bonds, or even spells that could create the illusion of a mating bond. Even the book on Cauldron made bonds held nothing of importance for him.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of palms. All he wanted to do was see Elain again, but he couldn’t go back to her empty handed.

“Maybe we are looking in the wrong section.” Mor suggested as she slumped in her seat.

“Has Clotho ever been wrong before?” Az asked and attempted to keep his frustration at bay. He knew it would take a while to find the information he wanted, but all of his self-restraint and patience had been worn thin. He may be the Spymaster, but he was a male just like any other, and he ached for a certain female.

“I could sense a bond between you two,” Mor said and ran her hands through her mane of hair in frustration. “But I didn’t understand why nothing snapped into place when you ate the food she offered.”

“Oh,” Azriel said with a blink. He ran a hand over his face as he realized he forgot to tell her a very important piece of information. “I offered her a sip of my coffee, and then a blue river of energy flowed out of her chest and into mine.”

He remembered perfectly how it looked and how it had shocked him to his bones. The beautiful silver-blue radiating from her heart, like mist over the Sidra, and found its way home to his chest.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Mor exclaimed, her voice breaking the tranquility of the library, as she gestured to the piles of books surrounding them.

“Sorry,” Azriel said. “I’ve been a little distracted.”

He had been. Everytime he turned the page his mind kept wandering back to Elain, and once he started to think of Elain he began to feel her. He could feel how amazingly soft her lips were, how pliant her body was as it pressed against him, and then he could see the two of them tangled in sheets while her cries of pleasure rang through the air. There were multiple times when his thoughts became so vivid he ran the risk of ruining his pants, and he looked around to make sure that no one had noticed where his mind went. The images he saw were so real, and so familiar that he would have sworn they were memories somehow. And the way he saw them was different too because they felt as if they came to him from an outside source— almost similar to how Rhysand would talk to him, mind to mind.

Mor’s delicate golden brows furrowed as she lost herself in thought. Azriel could practically see a faelight go off in her mind at the way her expression brightened. She started digging through the books, flinging some over her shoulders which his shadows had to catch. Eventually, she found what she had been looking for, and started flipping through a blue leather bound book that was in much better shape than the others. A smile spread across her face as she read a passage.

“Here.” Mor said as she handed the book to him, an unusual gentleness of her face.

Azriel accepted the book. His body went unnaturally still as he looked at a section entitled “The Bonds of The Mother”. His hazel eyes churned as he studied every word.

Not much is known about the bonds crafted by the Mother other than the fact that they are rare. While bonds of the Cauldron often are matches of strengths and more often than not created to ensure the continuation of the fae race, it is speculated that a bond created of the Mother shows a pairing of two souls perfect for each other. Two fae that are bonded by the Mother were created for each other, complimentary in every way, with their souls destined to find each other. Soul Bonds, which is the proper name of a bond the Mother creates, appear as a silver-blue light; they are only in place when both fae accept each other completely and wholly. One aspect of the Soul Bond that distinguishes it from the Mating Bond, is that both fae must accept some form of nourishment in order for the bond to be fully accepted. The Mother, having dominion over females, may cause the soul bond to have a more physical effect on females than males, which also separates the Soul Bond from the Mating Bond. It should be known that the acceptance of a Soul Bond nulls any other bond that may or may not be present, while it is highly unlikely it is possible to have multiple Mating Bonds which is not so for Soul Bonds. The acceptance of a Soul Bond nullifies any bond or spell which may connect two fae.

“Azriel!” A cheerful voice disturbed his reading. Azriel looked up, slightly annoyed at being interrupted, to see a familiar red-head poker her head around a bookcase. “Did you come to visit me?” Gwyn shot him a smile — one that he was sure would have been charming if he didn’t have a soul bond. She stepped into view.

He had a soul bond.

The shadowsinger shook his head and said, “I have to leave. May I take this with me?” He asked in a rush. He had to get Elain and let her know, a small wave of trepidation passed through him as he thought of how she reacted to Lucien and the mating bond. Azriel sent a prayer to the Mother, please, please let Elain accept the Soul Bond.

“Of course,” Gwyn said with a small frown. “You’re leaving so soon?” Her teal eyes finally looked at what aisle he was in and understanding dawned on her face.

“I’ll be here,” Mor chirped from behind Az. “Cleaning up so Lover Boy can go find the love of his life. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure he owes me big time.”

Azriel stood there anxiously, just wanting to deal with Mor and Gwyn later, he had to go see Elain. As soon as Gwyn stepped out of the way Azriel left — determined to find his perfect half.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: prince xiao x servant gn reader

req: no | wc: 1.62k | royal au

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (you are here) | part 5

taglist: @hanniejji

a/n: low graphic pic

The following days at the palace are tense. Nobody wants to speak about Rex Lapis’s death, in fear that it will spike a new argument. Servants that rush and bustle around the halls can barely even stare at each other, for the siblings’ fights are so harsh and loud that their horrible words still ring in their ears.

Before, as the servants dined together, they spread hearsay. Now the dining hall is silent, with the only sound being cutlery and plates. Each loud clunk of cutlery against porcelain is piercing in their ears.

Rex Lapis upheld a certain peace. With his death, there was anticipation around the corner of every action. Would the kingdom collapse? Who would take the spot of monarch?

The Adepti’s meeting with the Liyue Qixing was only in a few days. If the reunion failed to find a new ruler, doom would surely initiate.

But that was not a servant’s burden. For now, as one of the most trusted, you were to speak with the funeral parlor to begin preparations for the Rite of Parting.

It had been many years since the last Rite of Parting took place, a parting wish for one of the Adepti. Each one was directed and prepared by the Wangsheng Funeral parlor, the only funeral parlor in the kingdom. Their current director was infamous for her humorous spirit, rare for solemn occasions, but however they may behave, the Rite of Parting will not be a matter to be laughed at.

Their consultant was also famous, even in his short term of work. He was known to be calm, reserved, polite, and extremely knowledgeable. Though his reputation did not prepare you to see your supposedly dead king again.

He smiles politely at you from his office chair while you gape at him. Gathering your manners, you greet him with a bow, “Pleasure to be doing business with you, mr. Zhongli. I’m-”

“(y/n), yes I know. Take a seat.”

He may not look like Rex Lapis and he may not have the exact same mannerisms, but this was your king. You were sure of it.

“Rex-”

“Zhongli.” He corrects. “Not many people have seen through my disguise, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You gulp, nodding. “I’m here to discuss the Rite of Parting.”

He cuts you off for the last time, “I know, and that is taken care of. Here is the contract, it has all the information you need. All you need is to take it to the Adepti and they will discuss it, but I have a feeling there’s information that you want.”

“I… yes, there is.” You gulp back the shock. This man in front of you is your dead king, but he’s going by the name of Zhongli. “Wha… why?”

“I’ve always been disconnected from my citizens. Despite this, they depend on me far too much.” He speaks of conflicting matters, yet he speaks of them so calmly and simply, even busying himself with paperwork as he does. “They create a false image of me, and they praise those ideologies. There are many things that they say I do, many ways that they say I behave, and amplified many qualities that I have always shown to be something greater. I was flawed, yet they thought of me as perfect. The people no longer followed a king, instead, they followed the pseudo-god of their imaginations.”

A frown paints his lips, and with a sip of tea, he smiles once more. “I am a regular man just like any other. I have desires and I have flaws and I deserve to take action on them. Do you understand now?”

“Yes.” It was true that the king was not perfect, just as Yuheng Keqing proposed. No person was perfect, and the same went for every monarch of each kingdom.

“You have more questions?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Who should be the new monarch?”

He smiles, in a cheeky way that you’d never seen on the king, “That’s making it too easy for you. Nevertheless, a question is a question. Who has governed Liyue for just as long as I have? Who upholds law and who helps the citizens? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the royal family.”

“The Liyue Qixing?”

“Precisely.” He clears his throat, “But like I said. I’m a regular man. All prophecies of mine are meant to be seen as suggestions, rather than definitive word.”

“Now, you must have something for me in return. I have given plenty of answers, so it’s time you give me some too. Why do you stay with the royal family? I formed this contract with you to become our servant. Now that Rex Lapis is dead, there’s no need to stay. Why are you still serving them?” That was a question you did not have a prepared response to, but one answer shone brightly in your mind.

“Xiao. He… I care for him, and he does for me.” It was simple, yet complicated. Simple, yet it showed all the feelings you had towards the prince.

“He was always attached to you.” Zhongli states as a matter of factly, in a way that brings warmth to your cheeks. “Just as the citizens of Liyue depended on me, he depended on you.” He chuckles, “Minus the fake ideologies part, of course.”

“Well,” He nudges the Rite of Parting documents your way, “I believe that is all. Good day, (y/n).”

“Good day, your majes-” He smiles, eyes crinkling as if he’s seeing an old friend.

“Have a nice day, Zhongli.”

“Welcome home.” Another thing you didn’t expect that day was Xiao waiting for you at the door of the palace, not to mention that he considered the place to be your home. “Where have you been?”

Ever since you comforted him, he was warmer with you. The loner prince who you knew nothing about suddenly became the person you knew the most about. You hadn’t noticed just how much he liked you until your meeting with Zhongli. “Gathering Rite of Parting documents. Where are the Adepti?”

Xiao griances, most likely remembering the horrible arguments from a few days prior. “Doing their own things. Can the meeting… wait for later? I don’t want to have a reenactment of what happened the other day at the moment.”

“Sure.” You nod. “I just need to drop off these papers with another servant. Is there anything you need afterwards?”

“I… have something to show you.” He looks at anything from you, arms behind his back. He seems nervous yet excited at the same time.

“Okay, I’ll be at your room as soon as I can.”

It seemed Xiao had a lot to show you. You had no idea what he had to show off, and you did not think it entailed leaving the city.

The prince walked ahead of you, leading the way. He didn’t dare look you in the eyes, and anything he said was short and to the point. Nevertheless, he did not seem to have a rude intention. He was merely nervous, and you know that because he’s showing the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express.

Xiao stops and sits on a rock platform once you reach your destination, the hill just about overlooking the kingdom’s harbor. “I sneak off to this place sometimes to look at the view. It clears my head.”

“Even after I tuck you into bed?” You ask, taking a seat next to him.

“I- yes.” He seems ashamed to admit it. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be?” You give up on seeking his gaze, taking in the sight of the harbor instead. “I can see why you come here, the view is beautiful.”

It’s lucky that you’re no longer looking at him, because if you locked eyes while he glanced your way, the prince would’ve flushed red. “This wasn’t the only thing I wanted to bring you up here for.” Your beauty under the slowly setting sky of Liyue was magnificent, it almost made him trip over his words.

“Well, what do you have to say?” As the blue sky turns into hues of warm colors -reds, oranges, yellows- it blends in with the warmth of Liyue. The beauty of it has you captured, but Xiao has seen it plenty of times.

“I like you.”

You turn to him to speak, which makes him immediately snap his head away from you. “Xiao, I-” Before you can assure him that you reciprocate his feelings, he cuts you off.

“I know a relationship would only burden you and distract you from your duties. I know that perhaps you wouldn’t have time for me. But… could we at least try?”

The warmth on his cheeks is forgotten when you laugh, which makes Xiao snap his head at you. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction from you. “Xiao, I was going to say I liked you back.”

“Oh.” He claps a hand over the lower half of his face in an attempt to hide his hot blush. Color stands out between and above his fingers.

Your laugh almost humiliates him more. “You won’t burden me, Xiao! You’d cause more joy than anything.”

He nods slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeat. “Do you.. want to kiss?”

Xiao moves his hand just a bit, uncovering one of his cheeks, an invitation to kiss him there. He’s most likely never kissed anybody on the lips, so you’d have to save that for later.

Though a mere kiss on the cheek seems to overwhelm him. As much as you want to, you don’t tease him about it.

“Come on, let’s head back, my prince. It’s getting dark.”

My prince… no more ‘your highness’ from now on.