#But also it's endlessly amusing to imagine how that might actually work

[taoofshigeru]

What Else To Do But Talk? (Partitio Yellowil x Ori)

Partitio and Ori spend time at a tavern. (~2200 words)

A sequel to this fic, with the same warning. Giga-turbo Octopath Traveler 2 endgame spoilers ahead!

-----

Since Ori came to, the two of them had spent a lot of time not talking.

Which was good because she had no idea how she was going to elucidate on any of this.

Partitio was just always there. He was a familiar grip on her hand, a glass of water or a flip for her pillow when she did find the few words needed to ask for it. And whenever he wasn't, that apothecary Castti wasn't fussing over her wound, changing her bandages or making sure she swallowed all her medicine.

And so her body got better. She felt her strength returning by the day, but it didn't to much to alleviate the pit in the bottom of her stomach. Her sins were many, and they were not going away just because one woman stuck hard to a policy of treating the sick until they weren't and one man was nicer to her than she had any right to expect.

Still, she didn't think about leaving. Not after that first talk with Partitio. She remembered being held in his arms, crying like she never had in her entire life. And the walls in her heart, walls she had built up with a lot of training and practice in information warfare, had crumbled into so many hills of sand. It made it hard to find some things, mentally.

But it also made her more open, or at least less resistant, to new things. So when Castti told her she was ready for some outside air, and later when showed up with a modest pink dress with a frilly white collar that happened to be Ori's size, she found herself shrugging and getting changed.

"Remember, she's ready for walking, but she still needs to be treated with care." Castti, who now had six other patients in Oresrush to attend to but was still fussing over Ori's outfit, had been insistent that no patient of hers would go out in Partito's old rags. "She's back to sleep in her bed tonight, or we'll be having words, young man."

"Yup, nothin' to worry about there." Partitio, her escort for the night, was cordial and chipper about the whole thing. "Lookin' pretty good there, Ori."

"Uh, okay?" She was feeling light-headed already. "Are we really going out for dinner? You should know, I don't even have a leaf to my name."

"Aw shucks, I guess ya lost my calling card." He fished around in his pocket and came out with a single silver leaf. "But since we're already friends, I'm happy to put up a spare."

"Your business card." She smiled and clutched the single silver leaf in one hand, gripping it so, so tightly. "That's so like you. You took a mildly maladroit misunderstanding and turned it into yet another one of those ridiculously charming things you do without even trying!"

"Aw shucks." She must've imagined him getting flushed a little in the flickering light by the doorframe. "Follow me, we're goin' out for a change of pace." He held out his hand, callused from years of mine labor.

She gripped the merchant's hand with hers and let him pull her along the town's main street…

…

She ended up following him to a tavern.

It was a well-kept place in a corner of town, off the main street but not too far off. Partitio was met with cheers as he walked in, as well as questions about his cute lady friend. He smiled and deflected him, just about as shy as Ori had remembered him. Everything she learned about this man had reinforced her two initial impressions. One, he absolutely was this kind. Two, he absolutely was this cool.

They reached the table, and one of the barmaids came by to get their order. Partitio got a mug of hops-brewed stuff from the Conning Creek Distillery. Ori settled for plum juice. She wasn't much of a drinker, anyhow.

They made small talk until the drinks arrived. After her first sip, she opened with the question that had been bothering her ever since she woke up. "I guess you got to my brother before he made it to Vidania, huh?"

"Aw, no, that eagleboro fella' succeeded all right. Tossed," He coughed his throat loudly, "lit off the flame and called Vide down."

"Oh." She felt really small all of a sudden. "So Vide must've hurt a lot more people." She took a sip of her mug of plum juice to avoid talking. To avoid considering all that extra suffering that now lay at her feet. She took a big quaff in the hopes that downing it might buy her more time than a sip would.

"Nah, me'n the friends got there first. Handled it 'fore it got outta hand." He shrugged.

Ori spat out her entire mouthful of plum juice.

"You're telling me you BEAT Vide?" Purple liquid was dripping down her cheeks, and all over the table. But she was too shocked, too flabbergasted to care. "You're telling me your chummy cadre of compatriots gobsmacked the god of shadow? In a fight?"

"Hehe, whew there, Ori." Partitio, now soaked in purple fruit juice, fanned himself with his hat. "Sure, Vide was a tough hunk of evil, purpler than this here plum juice. But he wasn't nothin' the eight of us couldn't take on together." There was that grin, that gods-damned grin she had fallen so hard for. "I could tell ya the fun story. Give ya a scoop?"

She leaned in close, arms reaching down to pull out a notebook that was, of course, nowhere in her pocket. "You have to tell me how this happened!" Fumbling around, she grabbed one of the white napkins off the table. Partitio handed her a pen from out of his pocket, and she began scribbling furiously.

"So the first thing that happened was Castti poked 'em right in the eye with a spear. And then…"

…

"So then I told 'em." He leaned in with a conspiratorial tone. "Ya know, if you're gonna take over the world, plunge it into shadow or whatnot, don't ya think you'll be needin' a solid base of funds?"

"And he just, listened?"

"Well, not at first. He tried to cast a spell that would'a turned me into a statue, but Throné had me covered and it just rockified a few of his scales instead. And I kept talkin', outlinin' the case for why that fella might just wanna have twenty thousand clams in the back pocket. And there was a lotta maniacal laughin', a lotta 'The Night Will Claim You'," His voice hit a falsetto for the impression.

"Pfft!" Ori had no idea whether the impersonation was accurate, but she knew she found it funny. "Go on, you boisterous buckaroo." She was still furiously taking notes. With the borrowed pen on yet another napkin.

"But I could tell I was talkin' my way into it. Then later on, big guy was windin' up with a punch that woulda knocked Temenos and Osvald eight hundred leagues underwater. And ya know what I said?"

"Ohh, what?"

"Fifty thousand leaves will buy you a mighty fine torture dungeon." He chuckled. "And I just plopped 'em down on the other side of the dais and gave big purple this look."

Ori stared at him in dubious disbelief. "And Vide just, went over there to grab it? Skipped the whole attack."

"That he did. Ate the money like candy, too, which I ain't never seen before and don't plan on seein' again." He lifted his flass to take a drink and realized it was empty. "The mercs I hired were kinda sour about whole thing. Fair's fair, guess it kinda cut inta their salary." He cast the mug aside and shrugged innocently. "Next thing ya know, Osvald's back on his feet, stunnin' him with One True Magic (II) and then Ochette bit 'em in the face and the fella weren't gettin' back up again after that. Most don't. Nah, he just griped a little and then slunk right back into the dark."

"You did it, you really did it!" Ori tossed the twenty-third napkin full of scribble scrawl onto the pile she had been building. She had been too enraptured by Partitio's tale of doom deferred to realize she was now out of napkins, or that the tavern was mostly empty. "You and your genial group of good eggs looked malice in the evil eye and said Evil? Nay!" The silence that followed was deafening.

Or maybe that was just because the pub was entirely empty, aside from the two of them and the bartender. Who was giving them a look. Oh no.

Partitio meanwhile, was counting out coins into a small sack. When he was finished, he hefted the thing and threw it in a perfect arc to the owner of the tavern. "Why don't I lock up tonight, pardner?"

He nodded wryly. "Why am I not surprised?" He finished cleaning the last glass, then walked over to their table and slapped a key on their table. "Noon tomorrow, buddy."

"You got it."

He had cleared out, and the two sat in silence before Ori finally let out with what had been on her mind. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

"How d'ya mean?" He didn't seem confused. More like he just wanted to hear her talk.

"How am I supposed to live my life?" She shook her head. "Now that I decided I want to live one? My brother's gone, my profession was always a cover, and my old 'friends' are about to get hauled off to inquisition but good. I have to start from nothing. Worse than that, I have a dozen balance sheets' worth of blood on my hands. Blood I'll never be able to wash off. And that, facing up to that is terrifying." Her voice cracked a little.

"C'mon now, Ori." Partitio shook his head. "You might be in some pretty dire straits, but ya can't have nothin' so long as you're alive. What is it ya like?"

She was struck by the straightforward nature of his assertion. The idea that yes, someone like her could be worth something. "I, I haven't really ever thought about that. …I don't think there's anything."

"Really? 'Cause I thought ya liked words." He grinned at her hefting up his empty mug to gesture at the stack of napkins. "Yer always puttin' em together in real pretty ways that simple folk like me could never manage."

"I, I do? But writing was just…" She thought back to all the articles she had written. To those moments when her pen had come alive. The moment she found just the right word in the treasure trove of terminology inside her think tank to make a headline glow. And she realized, herself. "…my favorite part of being alive. You're right."

"See now, that's a start." He rose up and took the key off the table. "We better be gettin' home soon, tho, or Castti will chew my ear off for keepin' a recovering patient out past sunrise."

She clutched at the stack of napkins, which she suddenly knew was her first step to something bigger. Her next words were whispered under her breath "…until I met you."

The tycoon was polite enough, after shutting up the tavern door with a padlock, to offer her his hand for the walk back.

"Partitio?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything." She sighed deeply, then looked up at him in the flickering torchlight. "I, I think there's one more thing I like. Something I want." She squeezed his palm again, then re-gripped it, lacing her fingers in with his.

"Eh? And what's that?" He looked down at her curiously as she wrapped her other arm around his.

"I want someone who knows how to see people. Someone who knows right from wrong, and can teach me to see the good in people too." Leaning in, hoping he would notice. "I think that'd help me uh, write better."

"Gee uh," Partitio scratched the back of his head, "I think you're a pretty good judge of character yourself, as it happens."

"Are all my innuendos really not getting traction here? They're starting to feel more like innuendon'ts." She turned her face away from him, pretending to sulk.

"Heheh, that one went over my head. Try again, though?" Did he get what she was trying to say?

Gods be damned, she was going to make sure he would. She pulled him down with as much force as her tired, weakened limbs could muster. It was enough to bring his head down low. Low enough for her to hit the big, sloppy softie with a bigger, sloppier kiss. His lips, rough and chapped by desert sands, somehow manged to be gentle as he leaned forward to return the gesture. "I love you, you tender-yet-titillating tycoon. Do you need me to stamp the headline on your face? Again?!" She wiped her lips off. "Gods, you taste like plum juice."

He smiled back at her. "Nah, nah, I think I got that one." It was a smile she still had trouble feeling like she deserved, but she was willing to accept that it was a smile he meant for her. That was progress.

~End~

Part 3

[thatdeadaquarius]

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[kurosukii]

𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

pairing: matsukawa issei x f!reader

summary: you’re so glad that you married a loving and doting man who cares for your child as if she’s his own flesh and blood; you just didn’t expect that his son would take a certain liking to you as well...

genre: smut, stepcest au

warnings: 18+. noncon/dubcon, pseudoincest (stepcest), somnophilia, dubcon cheating, milf reader, use of ‘mommy’ (not in the femdom way), creepy and possessive issei, slight voyeurism and exhibitionism, body image issues, corruption, manipulation, panty sniffing, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, spitting, degradation, praise, size kink, breeding kink, biting, nipple play, oral (f receiving), humping, cockwarming, cumplay, creampie, overstimulation, mating press, doggy style

word count: 6.4k

author’s note: for @karasunosimp‘s it’s raining milk collab! thank you for letting me join! hehe so it’s another stepcest au,,, also i’ve already written for 3/4 of the seijoh four EEK (let me know if i missed any warnings!) (MINORS DNI)

° thank you to @meiansmistress @ssrated1volleyballplayer @bokuroskitten @anime-nymph for beta-reading and editing! <33

[11:53 AM]

“have fun at the amusement park! stay safe and always listen to your dad, okay?” you say sweetly to your jumping daughter.

you giggle at her excitement, your heart and cheeks warming when you see her eyes twinkling with unbridled joy as she holds her stepdad’s finger with her entire hand.

“bye mommy! i’ll see you later when we get back! have fun with nii-chan!” she answers loudly, squealing when your husband picks her up and twirls her around as they walk down the path to the car.

you wave them off, returning inside and closing the door with a click. you wince at the sound, louder now that your daughter’s giggles and squeals are gone.

meanwhile, issei leans against the wall with his thick arms crossed as he shamelessly looks you over from head to toe. he slowly licks his bottom lip, clearly liking what he sees.

you’re now hyper aware of your bare nipples brushing against the fabric of your shirt, and paired with the flimsy linen shorts you’re wearing, the room definitely feels hotter with the sexual tension that’s permeating the air

sexual tension that you’ve been blatantly ignoring ever since you married into the matsukawa household.

“why are you always so nervous around me, mommy?” issei asks, feigning innocence. his eyes twinkle and lips stretch into a smirk when he sees your breath hitch.

you don’t bother to grace him with an answer, heavy lump forming in your throat as you speed walk past him and into the kitchen.

he chuckles at your reaction and pushes himself off the wall, following you as his eyes watch your swaying hips. issei is hungry and it has more to do with the woman in front of him rather than the steaming plate of food on the table.

after you’re done fixing up the table and finally take a seat, you pray to any higher being within earshot to ask for strength in dealing with your wayward stepson.

you really don’t like being alone with him and it’s not because you don’t want to be around him. it’s because you’re afraid of what he might do to you.

you weren’t born yesterday and you’ve lived a long enough life to know when a man is looking at you like he wants to spread your legs and pound you until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.

because that’s how issei looks at you and he’s not ashamed about it either. it genuinely shocks you because his father—your husband—can be in the room and issei will still undress you with his eyes.

you thought you were being delusional at first, ashamed at how you secretly accused your husband’s son of leering at and having inappropriate thoughts about you.

it turned out that you weren’t wrong, however, because you came home one afternoon to get something you left, expecting that no one would be there so imagine your shock when you passed by issei’s slightly opened door and heard him pleasuring himself.

you were about to run back downstairs until you heard him groan your name as he was stroking his cock. you choked out a gasp as you stood by his door. he was naked, tanned body glistening with sweat as he fucked his hand.

you couldn’t help but gape at his thick and long cock—bigger than your husband’s, as much as you were ashamed to admit—and you watched him for a few minutes, panties drenched with how much slick and pre-cum was leaking out of issei’s, for lack of a better word, horsecock.

your face burned when his hips jerked and he sprayed his cum all over himself, moaning your name long and hard as his body twitched from the stimulation.

needless to say, you went back to work with soiled panties and a hot face, not knowing that watching issei masturbate to the thought of you would be the turning point that led to the taboo relationship with your stepson.

the sound of utensils falling and clanging break you from your memories; your face burns at being caught red handed and you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

issei apologizes for the disturbance and continues eating, never failing to wink every time you glance at him. he knows the effect he has on you and he relishes in it, teasing his stepmom endlessly.

he can’t wait to expose you for the little whore you actually are, and what better than to seize the opportunity of the both of you having the house all to yourselves?

“your little one and my dad are out bonding in the amusement park and i know for sure that they’ll be there all the way into the night,” he says, setting down his utensils and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

the movement of his hands causes the many rings on his fingers to reflect against the light and he looks at you from under his thick lashes, brown eyes smoldering with shameless desire.

“so why don’t we do some bonding too?” he asks and chuckles when you choke on your food. he reaches for your cup of water and hands it to you, thick and ring-clad fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, mommy?” he whispers, his voice raspy and deep. you shiver at his sensual tone, fingers gripping the cup hard. you clear your throat loudly after swallowing, willing yourself to ignore his advances and innuendos.

“i’m tired, issei. i’m going to take a nap after eating,” you say sternly, glaring when he seems not to take you seriously. he laughs lowly, letting out an okay, whatever you say, before standing up and stretching.

your cheeks warm when he groans, similar to the one you heard before, and you jump out of your chair and begin to gather all the plates and leftover food.

“let me clean up, hmm? you did all the cooking and prepping. ” issei stops you with a large hand on your forearm. his skin is hot to the touch but his rings feel cool, the juxtaposition making you lightheaded.

he’s breathing down on you, large body covering yours while his intoxicating scent invades your senses. you shake your head and mumble out a garbled ‘thank you’ before you leave the kitchen and issei, practically sprinting up the stairs and towards the room you share with your husband.

you close the door once you’re inside, breathing heavily as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. damn him, you growl in your head. you ought to give him an earful about personal spaces and appropriate manners.

you sigh loudly as you walk to the dresser, intent on changing into your silky nightgown for your midday nap. you wear the garment to help you feel attractive, despite your age and changed body. you remove your shirt over your head and shiver when you see how hard and pebbled your nipples are.

even though your mind refuses to succumb to issei, your body is a whole different story. you wince when you remove your shorts and feel the dampness in your panties, making shame and guilt course through you as you put on your nightgown.

of all the people in the world, only your husband should make you feel this way. no one else, and certainly not his son. what would he think of you? what would your daughter think of you?

fuck, why are you even allowing yourself to think like this?

you know that if you ask issei to stop acting inappropriately towards you, he would listen—wouldn’t he?

you know the reason why you allowed this whole forbidden staring and teasing to go on for so long was because you felt lonely. which angers you, because you have a loving husband and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

but he didn’t exactly make you feel desired. sure, you’ve been intimate with him but he didn’t look at you the way you want to be looked at—like you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. you feel ashamed, as if all the attention and love your husband gives means nothing to you.

as someone who has gone through major bodily changes, the ugly face  of insecurity easily rears its head when you look at yourself in the mirror—but that doesn’t mean you regret having your daughter, not at all.

it’s just one of those things that has been ingrained in you and you find it hard to escape. which is why whenever issei looks at you with hungry eyes, you can’t help but feel wanted, desired.

it’s as if he doesn’t care about the extra weight you put on or the stretch marks on your body—no, he doesn’t care about any of that. you wouldn’t have believed it if it weren’t for his incessant teasing and the fact that he masturbates to the thought of you.

but you know it’s wrong, that it can never be. you sigh dejectedly as you lie down on the soft and cold bed, staring up at the ceiling. you have to talk to issei about this whole game and tell him to stop it before his father finds out.

and issei’s molten brown eyes are the last thing you think of before you finally close your eyes.

issei hums as he wipes his hands on the towel, looking in the direction you ran off. he smirks to himself as he puts back on his rings, body brimming with excitement and desire. time to pay you a visit.

he walks up the stairs, footsteps loud in the quiet house. he finds himself right in front of your door and leans his ear on the wood. he’s met with silence as he slowly turns the knob and enters the dimly lit room.

his eyes immediately find your sleeping form and he feels his cock stir in his pants, making the fabric tighten around his crotch.

fuck, you’re so god-damn beautiful.

long legs carry him over to you. he puts one knee on the bed, making it dip as his long fingers caress your cheek. his rings complement your complexion, his thumb and index finger lightly squeezing your parted lips.

he watches in fascination as your eyelashes flutter against your cheek and his cock twitches again when he hears your little whimper as he plays with your slightly damp lips.

his fingers continue their ministrations as his sharp eyes travel down your form, smirking when he sees your nipples poking through the silky fabric. to his delight, he notices your nightgown riding up your body, revealing the frilly white cloth of your panties.

he groans softly as his cock hardens and the bed dips even more as he puts his whole weight on it. he stops his movements on your face and maneuvers himself until his large body is over you.

his eyes burn holes through your panties and his breathing becomes heavier. god, he knows it’s wrong to touch and feel you up while you’re sleeping, but you’re so fucking breathtaking and he can’t help himself. after all, he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to happen.

there’s a slight tremor in his hands as they hover over the exposed skin of your thighs. he lays them gently on your skin and he groans lowly in his throat. fuck, you’re so smooth and soft.

he squeezes them a few times before he gently pries your legs open, watching your reaction carefully in case you wake up. your breaths are still even and he takes that as a signal to spread your legs wider, raising them until your feet are planted on the bed.

he bites his lower lip to stifle his groan once he sees the wet patch on the center of your frilly panties. you’re such a fucking whore and he knows that it’s for him and only him.

he positions his body until he’s lying on his stomach, slightly rutting the bed to relieve the tension in  his cock. his head moves between your legs, directly in front of your heated and covered pussy.

you stir slightly when you feel a breeze on your exposed skin, making issei stiffen. you settle down and he sighs in relief, thinking fuck it before he inhales the scent of your arousal.

he growls lowly in his throat at your smell, sticking out his tongue and licking a long and wet stripe up your covered slit. you moan softly, but that doesn’t deter issei from groaning into your cunt.

he raises his body and sits up on his haunches, hooking his fingers in  the waistband of your panties. he slowly pulls them down and his eyes practically glow as he sees your bare pussy for the first time.

his throbbing cock twitches when he sees a string of slick connecting your cunt to your panties. he gently lifts your hips and stretches your legs so he can remove the soiled underwear, watching your sleeping face carefully before positioning your legs again.

he knows he’s a disgusting man, but what can he do when you’re offering yourself up so sweetly to him?

he bunches the fabric in his hand, ringed fingers making an indent on the cotton as he brings it up to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhales deeply.

he growls at your fresh scent, his body tensing at the new wave of arousal that drenched your panties. he watches as you squirm and move around, rubbing your thighs together as you whimper quietly in your sleep.

his eyes flash. is his naughty stepmom having a wet dream? that explains why your panties feel wetter in his hand...

well, issei is nothing but a man who makes women’s dreams come true, and it just so happens that you’ve captured his attention—and quite frankly, his dick.

he throws your panties to the floor after a few more sniffs and quickly dives back between your legs. he’s up close to your naked pussy, pupils blown wide as he stares at your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

you’re wet but not wet enough by his standards, so he gathers all the saliva he has in his mouth and parts your folds with two thick fingers. he spits on your cunt, the  little sound coursing through the quiet room.

he watches intently as the globule of spit slides down your lower lips and you shiver, moaning at the cold feeling between your legs. you squirm more as your mind gets filled with a certain haziness, unable to distinguish what’s real and what’s a dream.

throwing caution out the window, issei wastes no time and finds your clit, suckling it into the damp heat of his mouth. he groans at the taste of your pussy, his hips rutting the bed once more.

the vibrations from his lips make you moan loudly and arch into issei’s mouth. your eyes are squeezed tightly as you thrash around the bed, making you instinctively close your legs, squeezing issei’s head between them.

his hands grab your thighs, the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin as he pries them open. he shakes his head with your clit in his mouth, making you cry out and tremble.

god, your dream feels so fucking real. you’ve never felt pleasure like this before and you love it. your fingers grip the sheets as you involuntarily roll your hips, following the motions of issei’s tongue and lips.

his chin is drenched with his saliva and your juices as the bed creaks from the rutting of his hips. frankly, he doesn’t care how loud and sloppy he’s being if it means you’re this responsive.

issei lets go of one thigh and moves his arm under him while his mouth continues to suck and lick your clit. he watches through his lashes as your chest rises and falls quickly, cute moans falling from your mouth.

the silk of your nightgown is dark with how heated your body is, your sweat dampening the fabric. your nipples are so hard that they’re poking through the garment.

his tongue flicks against your puffy clit as he slowly inserts two fingers—the ones that aren’t adorned with rings—into your leaking cunt.

the feeling of his long fingers inside your pussy makes you cry out and your toes curl from the full feeling. the new stimulation and volume of your pleasured sounds awakens you, your foggy eyes wide and confused.

you’re still groggy when you sit up and lean on your hands, your mind processing what’s happening when you realize that it wasn’t a dream at all.

no, it’s real and issei’s really between your legs, lapping away and fingering your aching pussy. your mind clears and you choke out a gasp in between your moans as you watch him in shock.

issei watches the emotions cross your face the whole time and his chest puffs out, his ego rising knowing that he’s the one doing this to you.

your frantic eyes meet his and he winks slyly. you tug at his hair ready to pull his head and mouth off of you because this is so wrong, but he beats you to it. his tongue swirls and flicks faster at your pulsing bud, his fingers increasing their thrusting.

now that you’re awake, he doesn’t have to care about his volume anymore so he lets out loud groans and grunts, the vibrations reverberating through you and making your pussy tingle.

“issei, t-this is wrong! s-top! stop!” you beg, voice immediately turning into a loud moan when he ignores you and bobs his head faster.

he moans to himself, knowing that your body is betraying you because although you’re begging him to stop, your hand is tugging his hair as you desperately fuck his face and fingers.

you taste so good that he can’t stop even if he wanted to.

“i-i mean it! get off—oh my god!” you scream when he gives your clit a hard suck. coupled with the squelching sounds and speed of his thrusting fingers, you cum all over his mouth.

you breathe heavily, face flushed and blissed out as you watch issei kiss your inner thighs before rising between your legs.

his mouth and chin are glistening with your cum and his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips clean of your juices, groaning as he meets your eyes.

you notice the dark patch on his crotch and your cheeks flame when you realize that he came the same time as you, but that doesn’t ease your worries because his cock is still hard and twitching.

once you regain some of your bearings, you realize what exactly just occurred and you let out a little scream as you try to scramble away from issei, shame filling your body.

he doesn’t let you get away from him, however, because he immediately pushes you on your back and crashes his swollen lips to yours.

you yelp at the sudden movement and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding his hard cock on your wet and leaking pussy, further drenching the fabric of his pants.

you taste your essence as he massages his tongue with yours. you moan, tugging at his messy curly hair, trying and failing to pull him off you.

his hands find purchase on your thighs and he squeezes them, making you shiver at his cold rings. you whimper when he wraps your legs around his waist, grinding into you with a force harder than before.

your saliva mixes with his as the lewd clicking sounds of your mouths fill your ears. issei grinds on you one last time before he lifts his head from yours, lips separating with a trail of spit connecting them.

satisfied with kissing you, he stares at your face, gaze smoldering. you try to push him off you, but to no avail. he only tightens your legs around his waist as you struggle against him.

you suck in a breath as you feel the heat of his cock directly on your naked pussy. issei smirks lazily at you, tutting at you as if you’re inconveniencing him. your hands tug at his hair more, desperately trying to anchor yourself.

“if i had known your pussy tastes that sweet, my face would stay buried between your legs for the rest of my days,” he says suavely, his tongue darting out and licking his lips as he looks at yours.

you moan softly at his words and you’re now keenly aware of your nightgown sticking to your skin, making you uncomfortable as your nipples brush against the sweaty fabric. issei notices your discomfort and clicks his tongue.

“i think you’ve been hiding your pretty tits from me for far too long,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing your face. his hands move from your thighs and his fingers hook under the straps of your nightgown.

you shiver underneath him as his hands remove the sweaty fabric from your body, ring-clad fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your arms.

you whine in distress as issei discards your nightgown somewhere behind him. you’ve never felt so exposed, your bare and glistening body being scrutinised by his dark eyes.

your insecurities start to get the better of you and you move your arms to cover your breasts and mound. issei stops you, large hands putting your arms back to your side.

“don’t hide from me, baby,” he whispers, his head dipping as he kisses the crook of your neck. his hands go to your chest and he palms both of your aching tits, squeezing and kneadingthe soft skin.

you moan, arching into the warm and cool feeling of his fingers. issei continues sucking and leaving marks on the skin of your neck as he whispers his thoughts.

“i know my dad doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked,” he claims, making you squirm under his body that’s still clothed.

shame momentarily disappearing, you claw at his shirt and pants. he chuckles at your impatience and his hands leave your breasts for a moment, removing his shirt in record time.

he gets off the bed and makes quick work of his pants, kicking them off and quickly returning to the bed—to you. he didn’t give you the chance to look at his hard cock—not that you needed to anyway, because you already know what it looks like.

you yelp when issei puts his arms around you and settles you down on his lap, giving you a clear view of his cock that’s bobbing against his defined abdomen.

you gulp, nervousness filling your body as you stare at his large cock. seeing it up close is absolutely different—it’s longer and thicker than any other dick you’ve ever seen.

issei’s ego rises as he watches you. he’s always been proud of his size but seeing you? the object of his and his dick’s affections sitting on his lap? well, that’s enough to boost any man’s ego.

“see what you do to me?” he asks, guiding your hand to his throbbing cock. you whimper when you hold his shaft, your hand barely wrapping around him. issei hisses at the feeling of your soft hand touching his sensitive skin.

“you’re so fucking sexy and i can’t stop thinking about how you’d look like bouncing on my cock,” he admits, urging you to stroke his dick faster.

you slowly pump his shaft and moan when you feel his fingers—the same ones from before—find your swollen clit, slowly circling the pulsing bud. your free hand squeezes his shoulder as his fingers move faster.

you squeal when he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, making your hand squeeze his cock. he groans in at the stimulation, making his abs clench.

“i-ssei!” you whine, head thrown back as he pumps his fingers into you faster. the squelching sounds of his fingers scissoring your insides causes a knot to slowly form at the pit of your stomach.

“gotta prep this pussy more, baby,” he says breathlessly, watching your slack-jawed face as you stroke and twist his cock.

“still so fucking tight, can’t wait to sink into you,” he grunts, moving your body so he can get a better angle at your g-spot.

“bet i can fuck you better than my dad ever will, mommy,” he growls, curling his fingers inside of you as he ends his sentence. you lurch forward and cry out, eyes fluttering at the pleasure.

“see? you want my cock—shit—so badly, huh? look at how your hand is squeezing and s-stroking me, fuck,” he stutters, feeling his orgasm approach. his free hand squeezes your hip, keeping your balance.

you shake your head frantically at his statement, still not admitting that you want this, want him.

“stop fighting it. i know you want me as much as i want you,” he grates, curling his fingers again and making you wail at the pleasure. your fingers twist and pump his cock, pre-cum leak from the tip. your hand feels warm and slick as you continue to jerk issei’s shaft.

“gonna cum baby, cum with me,” he whispers into your skin, breaths heavy as the slick sounds of your fluids fill the room.

your body is trembling and you know you’re nearing your orgasm once more. you bury your face in the crook of his neck, moans and whimpers falling from your lips.

“c-cumming, issei!” you scream when his thumb circles your clit just as he curls his fingers again inside your tight pussy, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

he follows after you, hot spurts of his cum staining your hand and arm. he groans and throws his head back as he feels the heat of his essence coat his abs and thighs.

he removes his fingers from your cunt and gently pushes you back on the bed. you yelp when issei grabs the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest, folding your body in half.

“i’m going to fuck you until all you and i can hear in this house are your cute and sexy moans,” he growls, spreading your legs and baring your clenching hole to his dark eyes.

his cock bobs as he moves forward and he takes hold of his shaft, one long vein on the underside. he taps it a few times on your clit, making you whine and close your eyes.

you take a deep breath as he inserts the tip, body shaking as his large cock goes inside of you, inch by inch.

you open your eyes and claw at his arms when the stretch starts to become uncomfortable. you look down and gasp, eyes wide as you have a clear view of his fat cock splitting you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, squeezing your thighs as he slowly bottoms out.

“you’re so big, issei,” you moan, leaning your head back on the pillow as your eyes flutter at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls.

“mhmm, big enough to fuck you the way you want to be fucked, mommy,” he chuckles then groans when your cunt squeezes around him.

“fuck—do you like it when i call you mommy?” he growls when your tight walls clamp down on him again. you shake your head, a futile attempt in proving him wrong.

“who knew my mommy is so kinky,” he mocks you and before you can even reprimand him, his entire length bottoms out in one swift thrust.

“issei! fuck!” you scream, scratching his forearms as your back arches, toes curling at the sudden thrust.

you feel so fucking full. of all the cocks you���ve taken, issei’s definitely tops the list. you can feel every part of him, from the single vein to the throbbing of his length.

he groans loudly, squeezing your thighs so hard that his rings will definitely leave bruises later. he fights to controls himself, willing not to cum at the feeling of your pussy finally enveloping him.

he sucks in a breath and leans his forehead against yours, pulling out slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside your pussy. you whine at the loss, missing the way he stretches you.

he thrusts back in, bottoming out as his tip teases the entrance of your cervix. you cry out in both pain and pleasure, still trying to adjust to his size.

he stays still inside of you for a few seconds before he places his hands on the bed, your calves resting on his upper arms. he starts thrusting, moving in and out of your cunt.

you mumble incoherently, breasts bouncing with each thrust issei makes. you grab both of his wrists, squeezing them as the sounds of your skin meeting his fill your ears.

issei groans and hisses, panting heavily as he pounds your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. he leans down to your ear, licking the sensitive skin and making your shaking body tremble even more as you whine.

“bet you’re happy now, huh?” he whispers in between his groans, biting your earlobe.

“w-what do you—oh my god, issei!” you stutter, but then he fucks you harder and faster, making you keen and arch your back. he makes your body contort into positions you’ve never been in before—until now.

“do you think you’re quiet when you touch yourself during your late night showers?” he asks you in a condescending manner, smirking when you whine at his statement.

“i can fucking hear you when i go to the kitchen. you’re such a slut. moaning your stepson’s name, imagining that he’s the one who’s touching your pussy,” he growls as he buries his head in your neck, his hot breaths fanning your skin.

“but i guess i don’t have the right to talk, huh? i fuck my fist every night and imagine it’s your tight cunt wrapped around me,” he finishes, nipping away at your skin before his hands return the back of your sweaty thighs.

he slaps them, in sync with his thrusts, making you wince at the metal of his rings. your shaking arms reach for your ankles, setting everything on display for issei.

you’re loudly chanting his name like a prayer, pleasure running through every nerve in your body. for the first time in your life, you’re actually enjoying getting fucked silly—never mind that it’s your stepson who’s making you moan like a pornstar.

his thrusts are heavy and deep as he slowly toys with your clit and you jerk when his fingers draw circles on the aching bud. your body’s trembling harder than before, loud moans and whines falling from your open mouth as drool seeps from the corners.

“i-i’m gonna cum, issei!” you squeal as the sound of the headboard hitting the wall and the squelching noises coming from your pussy make the pit in your stomach slowly tip over.

“cum, baby. cum all over my fat cock,” he whines, throwing his head back as he jackhammers into you, his cock throbbing and his balls tightening as he prepares to empty himself inside of you.

“c-cumming i-issei! fuck!” you scream, your hands squeezing your ankles as your legs shake from your intense orgasm. your cunt is practically suffocating issei’s cock, making his hips jerk and stop.

his mouth falls open into a loud and heavy groan as he spills his hot and sticky cum inside of you. there’s so much cum that it leaks out of you and around his cock as it drips down to the drenched sheets below your bodies.

you finally set your shaking legs down as your trembling body aches from your folded position. issei falls on top of you, elbows on the bed as his sweaty face is smothered by your breasts.

his cock is still inside of you, twitching as more cum spills inside of your soiled pussy. your heavy breaths fill the cool air of the room as you recover, feeling disgusting at all sweat and cum on and in your body.

issei lifts himself off of you and pulls out of your cunt, making you both sigh and groan at the drag of his cock. your mixed fluids immediately trickle out of your pussy and you moan at the thick feeling.

issei furrows his brows as his fingers scoop his cum and quickly pushes it back. you whine as the tips of his fingers tease your hole, squirming away from him as your clit throbs from the overstimulation.

you’re kind of expecting him to roll over you and lie down but he shocks you—it’s evident with the way you yelp when flips your body over to your stomach, his large hands raising your hips until you’re kneeling on the sheets.

“i can’t fucking get enough of you, baby,”  he says breathlessly, chest still heaving at the previous round. but it’s true, he really can’t get enough of you—not when he knows the taste and feel of your pussy.

“i-issei, i-i can’t,” you whine when he holds his cock and hovers before your dripping cunt. he doesn’t pay any heed to your whimpers, mostly because he knows you still want more of this, more of him.

“you say that but your pussy is telling me a different story,” he smirks and you can hear the condescension in his voice as his thumb rubs the sweaty skin of your hips.

he doesn’t give you any time to reply because he quickly sinks into you, your mouth falling open into a loud moan as his fat cock stretches you open once more.

fuck, even if you’ve already taken him, the stretch and ache still feels the same. he’s so fucking big that you know you won’t ever get used to his size, no matter how many times he fucks you.

he doesn’t waste any time and starts rolling his hips, his thighs loudly slapping against your ass. he hisses as one of his hands lie flat on your back, pushing it down to form a deeper arch.

“i know you saw me jerking off. did you like the show i put on for you, mommy?” he growls, his other hand gripping the back of your neck and smothering your face on the sweat-stained sheets.

you moan into the fabric when you hear the mocking endearment, your drool mixing with all the other fluids. your fingers bunch the sheets between them  as the loud creaking and thumping of the bed fill your ears.

“i came so hard because i knew you were watching me work my cock,” he groans, thrusting hard and deep. your cunt squeezes his cock when you remember that afternoon. so all this time? he was shamelessly coaxing you towards him?

you huff, pride slightly damaged when you hear his admission. you’ll show him that he’s not the only one who can fuck like an animal.

you whimper when you spread your knees—which is a feat in itself because issei’s thrusts practically send your body flying forward. you moan when he hits your sweet spot, making tingles run down your spine.

you start meeting his thrusts, no longer letting him do all the pulling and jostling. his eyes flash when he realizes what you’re doing, which only encourages him to fuck you harder.

his hands palm your jiggling ass, leaving marks on your soft skin. you leave your head buried in the sheets, the sheets, stifling your moans and whines because if you don’t, —you’ll definitely make the walls shake with how loud you are.

“yeah that’s a good girl. fuck yourself on my cock, come on,” he coaxes you, deep voice raspy as his own body trembles at the pleasure of your walls clamping down on his cock.

“fuck—look at how your slutty cunt is taking me,” he growls when you roll your hips, the angle sending new waves of pleasure to the both of you.

“god, i wanna fuck you in front of my dad just so he knows that your pussy belongs to me,” he hisses, holding your hips as he takes control of the pace again.

his thrusts become sloppy and erratic, the loud slapping of skin a constant symphony as he maintains the fast pace. you turn your head to the side and breathe deeply, choking out a moan as he continuously hits your g-spot.

“want me to make you a mommy again? get your belly all swollen and round with my kid?” he says, voice shaking as his heavy balls slap against your skin. he’s close, he can feel it.

you’re close too, just a few more deep and hard thrusts and you’ll gush around his cock again. issei leans over your body, his chest covering the entire expanse of your sweaty back.

you squeal when your knees drop and you fall flat on the bed, your entire front rubbing against the sheets. you whimper shakily when your nipples brush against the soft fabric, the extra stimulation making your body jerk back against issei’s thrusting cock.

“issei! g-gonna c-cum a-again!” you squeal, voice shaking from how raw your throat feels. your moans increase in pitch and volume the nearer you get to your orgasm.

“fuck, your pussy feels like heaven!” issei groans, his own voice increasing in pitch and volume as well as he reaches his limit. you feel his cock swell and throb before thick and hot spurts of his cum coat your clenching walls.

“issei—oh my god!” you wail, cumming at the same time as him. your mouth stays open in a silent scream as you close your eyes tightly, cunt spasming as you drench his cock with your essence.

you wince when you feel the squelching of your mixed juices as issei rolls to his side, bringing you with him. both of you are quivering with pleasure and overstimulation, breathing heavy with your chests rising and falling rapidly.

his cock finally softens inside of you, clearly spent for the day. more cum falls out of your pussy, staining your sweaty bodies even more.

his parted lips find your neck, sucking and licking away at glistening skin. you whine, tilting your head, exposing more skin for him to mark.

you sigh tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you. you don’t really care that you’re dirty and soiled with sweat and cum—or the fact that issei’s dick is still inside of you. you just want to rest.

your eyes droop, ready to fall asleep enveloped in issei’s warm chest and arms, along with the wandering of his soft lips on your neck—until you hear a very familiar voice shout from downstairs, loud footsteps running up the stairs.

“honey! issei! we’re finally home!”

[3:47 PM]

@semisgroupie​ @kurinoot​ @rosesandtoshi​ @kinsurou​

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[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 14

[Read on AO3]

Written for @paintercat, who also guessed the correct winner for Trope Madness this year! With two correct guessers, we had to determine the kitty winner via points, but I thought there should be SOME award for getting so close. Took a few extra months to get the time to work on this one, but here it is!

Obi has never made a secret of his experience. I know how to ignite a flame, he’d told Miss once, and Master too. An easy joke to make, a safe one, the kind that said he was a harmless sort of rake, encouraging good girls to keep their distance. And what was Miss but the best?

Except she never did. No, instead she trusted him too much, putting herself so close to him that he’d catch himself wondering if he could light a fire where it didn’t belong. The sort of conflagration that would burn down the whole life he’d built for himself from the ashes of the last one.

Careful, he’d tell her sometimes, when she ventured too close, putting bare skin mere inches from his, hate to find out you’re an easy tinder.

Standing here, the candles above turning her gown into gold so solid she might as well have been cast, it seems as different sort of joke entirely. How he’d flattered himself thinking that she might even smolder near him. He’d spent years at Lilias keeping the cold from seeping into her bones, and not once had there been the trace of smoke, not a single ember.

Makes sense; just because the candles burned on an altar didn’t mean the idol catch too. And now he has three years with which to disappoint himself daily.

“I should have known,” he says, giving the door a rueful grin. “You can’t count on dads for anything.”

Her mouth twists, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Well, I could have told you that.”

The breath he’s holding rushes from him like sand coursing through a glass. “You’d be the expert. You’ve got more dads than anyone I know! Your old man, Lata, Marquis Haruka. Legally I think you can even claim that His Maj--”

“Please.” Her mouth pulls into a grimace. “Don’t even joke about that one.”

“Fine,” he relents, sinking down into one of the hardest stuffed chairs he’s ever subjected himself too. It seems that this is not an antechamber for guests His Majesty wants to linger. “Consider it my wedding gift. Don’t say I never give you anything, Miss.”

His smile meets silence, his mistress stock still save for her hands. They lace and unravel endlessly, a patchwork of his mistakes. “I didn’t say...” Her mouth works around sounds that refuse to come. She shakes her head, finally knocking a few loose “I just wish I knew why you never told me.”

Obi’s joints lock on reflex, his heart racing in his chest, wondering if she could possibly mean--?

Ah, no. Obi has more secrets than there are stars in the Lilias sky, more bodies buried than even the Wistal catacombs could hold. When she glances at him, mouth wrinkled with misery, he knows it could only be the one most recently exhumed.

“It wasn’t personal,” he tells her, though the words lost in the cavernous expanse of the room. “It just happened, and...”

It wasn’t supposed to matter. That’s what sits at the tip of his tongue. His favorite sort of excuse. I’m not anyone worth knowing about, don’t you agree?

It’s the sort of answer that would work on Master, making him throw up his hands or earn Obi a long, quiet look before a labored change of topic. On Miss, though, he knows better than to try.

“I didn’t think it would change anything,” he admits instead, drawing each word out like a horse at a quartering. “It’s not like I thought His Majesty would actually expect me to..to...”

Her mouth may stay serious, but her eyes spark, and oh, if anyone is a quick tinder around here, it’s him. “Actually be a lord?”

“See, you get it.” He slumps, the brocade of his chair rumpling his jacket. “Who would have thought they’d actually box me up and ship me out to some country seat, making me look a numbers and letters. Can you imagine, Miss? Me, looking at ledgers?”

Her dress shimmers when she sits, perching on the footstool too close to his knees. “I remember you reading one or two when the occasion called for it. Didn’t you spend a whole day going through the logbooks when Touka Bergatt tried to--?”

“That was for Mister, Miss,” he grimaces, hunching down. “I don’t just do it for anyone.”

“Not even Iza--?”

“Especially not for him.” He’s the one that frogmarched him into this whole disaster in the first place. Political expediency his ass. “You know that he was the one to float the idea that Lata could dump all his responsibilities on me if he went through this adoption thing. And then this whole marriage--”

The small hand hovering by his knee flinches back, burying itself in Miss’s lap.

“Ah, Miss.” He doesn’t think when he reaches out; it’s all instinct when his hand closes around hers. A poor one, he realizes, her cool fingers curling over his palm with no leather to mute the feeling. It’s a good thing this damned jacket covers his arms, otherwise she might see the goosebumps tracking up them. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve been the best thing to happen since His Majesty shipped me south.”

The tension sighs out of her, fingers pressing flat to thread through his own. “I hardly think Lata needs Izana to tell him how to shirk his duties as a lord.”

“Fair enough,” Obi snorts. “He was doing a good job of it all on his own.”

There’s a curl at the corner of her mouth, the barest hint of humor, but it’s gone the longer she sits, gaze fixed on where their fingers knit together. “Obi...”

When Miss looks at him, it’s always head-on, resolute, confident in whatever request she’ll make of him. But now she shifts on her cushion, her gaze filtered through the dark lace of her eyelashes. “I know you didn’t mean for it to feel personal when you didn’t tell me. But it’s just that...”

She glances up, her fingers gripping the barest bit tighter. “We’re still close, aren’t we? You aren’t...?”

Obi’s been stabbed before-- multiple times, in a host of inconvenient places, including one where the only comfortable position was ass-up on his belly-- but still, this is worse. An knife is an inconvenience, but Miss’s disappointment...

“Of course, Miss!” He doesn’t think when he squeezes her hand, their palms pressing close as a kiss, but oh, he wishes he had. It would save him the trouble of his mouth dying up the moment he needs it. “Really, I thought it would never matter. Something we could both laugh over once His Majesty sent me back off to Lilias, maybe even get a free dinner off of dear old dad. But...”

A corner of her mouth lifts, wry. “Then we got engaged.”

“Ah, well...” He scrubs at the back of his head, if only to keep from tugging at his shoulder. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“But I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me after.” Her mouth pulls thin, cheeks puffed enough to threaten a good pout. “It seemed a little more than trivia then.”

“Mm, right.” His grin bears teeth as he adds, so sweetly, “Kind of like what happened between you and m-- Zen.”

She has the grace to blush, even if she won’t look at him. “Ah, that...there was never a right time.”

“His Majesty said that all happened half a year ago.” It’s his turn to pin her down now, watching her squirm beneath the directness of his gaze. “That’s before I even left Lilias.”

“Ah, well...” It’s hard to keep up this glare when her finger absently traces down the bones of his hand. “The letters came with the same messenger. And when you said Izana was recalling you to the castle...”

His jaw nearly drops. “You already knew what it was for.”

“You would never have left if I told you.” She finally looks at him now, jaw in it stubbornest clench. “You don’t care about titles, but I think we both know, if you climbed any higher in the guard, other people would. I thought I could wait until you came back, when everything would be more settled, but...”

“But His Majesty collared me into going to Cacciatore straight from the castle,” Obi sighs, itching at his brow. Knowing the king, he probably planned it that way too.

“I meant to write it in my first letter, but it just...didn’t fit.” She grimaces. “Or in any of the ones after. It just seemed better if I told you myself, in person. And when you invited me, I thought that would be the perfect time to-- to--” she takes a steeling breath, meeting his eyes-- “to tell you everything.”

It’s too much to look at her, to let his world narrow to just the two of them, so he shakes his head, settling back in the chair. “Maybe it’s a good thing I never told you about Lata.”

He feels her glare rather than sees it. “What do you mean?”

“You never would have married me if I did.”

“T-that’s not true at all.”

“Oh really?” He cracks open his eyes, leaning forward as he says, “That so, Shirayuki Forzeno?”

He’s too close; her breath catches and it’s as loud as a moan in a bedroom to his ears, enough to make even his skin heat beneath his collar, but when he pulls away--

She grips tighter, enough that her knuckles pale where they hold him. “Say it again.”

He has to be hearing things. Making his own wants out of her needs. “M-miss?”

“Say it again,” she says slower, too clear to mistake. “Please.”

“Um...” It’s an effort to keep his voice from cracking. “F-Forzeno...?”

Her nose scrunches, cute enough to kiss. Oh, he’s slipping if he’s letting thoughts like this out of their vault. “Not that. My name. I’d...” She glances up at him, and it’s not anger in her eyes, but something he’s never seen on her. At least, not pointed at him. “I’d like you to say it. Just one more time. If you don’t mind.”

“I...” He licks his lips. A terrible idea, since now they’re sensitive, tingling when her breath fans across them. “Miss, I don’t think...”

“Obi.” It’s a word he feels rather than hears, vibrating the air between them. “Please...”

“Shira--”

The door swings open, rattling when it hits the wall. “Are you two still in here?”

Zen fills the doorway-- well, as much as he can-- folded arms creasing his coat as much as his frown does his face. “What are you up to?”

Obi springs from the chair, palm cold where Miss’s no longer hits into it. “Oh, nothing that would interest you, Highness,” he assures him with a grin that keeps trying to slip from his mouth. “You know how it is, being newlyweds. Basking in each other’s company. Whispering sweet nothings. Maybe even getting in a few--”

One gloved hand stalls him. “Save it.”

“But, Master, as my best man, shouldn’t you--?”

Zen grimaces. “I’m here in an official capacity. My brother has informed me that the documents you...reviewed yesterday are ready to be signed.”

It’s only then that he sees the other figure in the door; a man middling in height between both of Clarines’ Highnesses, his mouth pinched like he’s bitten into something sour.

“Yuuha,” Obi says with relish. “Now doesn’t that kill the mood.”

“Could you go any slower?” If it was possible for Zen to pace up a wall and over the ceiling, the past few minutes would have been crucial to the discovery. As it is he’s wearing a trench in a carpet that costs more than most men would see in their whole lifetime. “This was meant to take a few minutes at most, not a quarter of an hour.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Obi drawls, squinting at the words scrawled in front of him. He’ll give the clerk this much; he may be a prick, but his writing’s neat as a pin. Even if he might be more comfortable reading with a magnifying glass. “It’s come to my attention only idiots sign contracts they haven’t read first.”

Zen huffs, throwing himself into the nearest armchair. “You didn’t bother when you started working for me.”

“Yeah, and I got an earful for it.” He hands the page to Miss, who merely skims it before she sets it to the side, waiting for him to finish the next. “I figure now that I got stuff to lose, I should probably be more careful with it. Unless I want to go the way the last Marquis Conti went.”

There’s some more sighing at that, but he must make his point, since Zen only grumbles, “Well, just hurry it up. Otherwise everyone’s going to be wondering what you’re up to in here.”

Obi can’t help the grin that stretches his lips. “Doesn’t that only help our story? You know, lovers who can’t keep their hands off each other?”

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Zen’s skin flushes. “That’s--”

“I know that Izana says passion was supposed to rush us to the altar,” Miss interjects, taking the last page from his hands and signing her name with what looks more like chicken scratch than a name. “But I thought it was more...our friendship was sufficient courtship, not that we were eager to jump into bed. Or, I suppose, that we were eager to cover up just how quickly we took that leap.”

“W-why not both?” It’s with iron resolve that he clamps down on mentioning just how he’d like to fall into bed with Miss. “Though maybe it’s better the first way. More yearning. Makes sense why we’re turning the wedding night into a wedding afternoon--”

“Just sign it already,” Zen sighs. “Or else we’ll never make it to the party, and I spent forever planning it.”

“You’ll understand if you get married,” Obi tells him, signing his name primly, right next to Miss’s. He doesn’t think about how nicely they look next to each other. “Or when, if His Majesty gets his way.”

“Don’t remind me.” Zen jumps up from his chair, snatching the contract from his hands. Despite the theatrics, there’s a spring to his step, and the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. “Now get going already. I’m going to have to field enough questions about what you two were up to as it is.”

“Oh!” Miss leaps to her feet, cheeks flushed as she takes his arm. “People won’t really...?”

Zen’s grimace is his only answer.

“Best not to ask, Miss,” Obi assures her, brushing past the clerk at the door. “I hope there’s free booze.”

“What are you talking about?” Zen grumbles. “You can’t make guests pay at a wedding.”

Miss gives him an amused look. “You know,” Obi murmurs into her ear, “I think I could get used to this lord business.”

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[beclynn-herondale]

Jace, Kit, and Mina shenanigans

Jace was visiting with Kit; Clary was spending time with her mother and Luke, as she always did when Jace went on his monthly visit to Kit. And they would tell each other all about their day when they went to bed together that night.

Jace would never have said it out loud but he wanted Kit to rely on him and need him, he wanted to be needed by him. He wanted Kit to trust him, but more than that he wanted Kit to know he really did care for him.

Tessa had also recently had her baby, Mina. She had said Jace should come by and meet her.

Tessa and Jem were good people, and Jace just hoped Kit wouldn't be like he was and push away from his found family, and hold them at a far distance. But he remembered people had to follow their own journey and learn things for themselves. He just wanted Kit to be happy. But Jace also knew, like him, Kit had some baggage and it made it difficult.

"Jace?" said Kit. They were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.

"Yeah. . .?" he said, realizing he hadn't been listening for the last few minutes.

"You didn't hear what I said, did you?" Kit sighed.

"I was zoning out thinking of interesting things," he teased.

"Probably not that interesting, considering it's you," Kit shot back playfully.

Jace grinned. This kid would be just fine, he thought.

"So," said Jace, "you're a big brother now."

"Yup. And I'll be great at it."

"There you go. There's the Herondale in you."

Kit stared at him with amusement, then said, "Tessa says you should hold Min Min."

"Min Min? Is that a  another nickname of hers?" If so Jace had to admit it was very cute.

"Yes. She has many nicknames," said Kit. "Because she is adorable."

"Kids and babies usually are."

Kit looked up. "You like kids, don't you?"

"They're alright."

Kit looked at him suspiciously. "Uh, huh." He then asked. "Well, are you and your hot fiancée Clary gonna have any?"

Jace choked on his tea. "What—what?" He thought he was probably flushing, as Clary always made him do even when she wasn't around. And Kit calling Clary that should be weird but he wasn't wrong, Clary was hot and his fiancée.

"Just saying, I'd make an amazing babysitter," Kit winked. "And I could teach your children all about memes and the future stuff, as well as turn them into my side. along with Mina. of course. They would be the best generation yet."

"Pffft," Jace let out.

It's true Jace and Clary had talked about having kids, but it was never a definite serious talk. Though Jace did want kids. "Why are you asking me this?"

"No reason."

"Uh, huh," he said. That was their thing, 'Uh, huh.'

Jem walked in then, holding who Jace assumed was Mina. "Hello, Jace," said Jem. "How are you?" He was smiling the warm smile that he he always had these days; Jace had thought it was the kind of smile that made you want to open up and trust. Jem was that kind of person who radiated kindness and warmth and goodness.

"I'm doing just fine," he said. "What about you?"

"I am amazing," he exclaimed. "Silly melon, is so beautiful and precious." Another cute nickname, he thought. "Would you like to hold her?" Jem asked.

"I. . .uh. . .sure," Jace said, hearing the unsureness his own voice, not knowing why it was there. Jem placed Mina in his arms; he couldn't help but remember holding Max for the first time, remembering that for the first time he had been absolutely terrified. Babies had always seemed so small and fragile to him, and at that time he had no idea how they worked. Of course, after Max Jace figured out that as he had said, they were tough. Max was not so little anymore, and now was on about killing all the demins, Jace was a very proud uncle. He looked down at Mina, she looked like Jem, he thought, but he could see Tessa as well. "Hello, Mina," he said.

The baby opened her eyes, looking up at Jace with an expression of curiosity. well, he assumed that's what it was. "curious are we?"

"She is," Kit put in. It was such a sibling thing, he thought.

Jem was watching the three of them with fondness, and a little sadness. Jace wondered if he was thinking of his parabatai Will Herondale; Jem had told Jace about him, and couldn't imagine not having Alec or being alive without Alec. It had made Jace feel a deep kind of sympathy for Jem.

Jace repositioned Mina in his arms so he could look her in the eyes. "So," he said. "Are you going to prank and trick your big brother?"

Kit stuck his tongue out at Jace, and Jace rewarded Kit by sticking his own tongue out right back at him.

Mina giggled, Jace felt his heart skip a beat. He'd made her giggle. It reminded Jace of hearing Max giggle for the first time, it had instantly defeated Jace, in a sense. Blueberry had had a place in Jace's heart from the beginning, Jace couldn't help but want to protect him, it had been the same with Rafe, and even young Emma and her braveness. And Jace thought it would probably be the same with Kit and Mina; he had a soft spot for kids. He had also realized that he had cared for Max, his little brother, the same. But that was a place that Jace tried not to venture to, as it only broke his heart all over again. Jace remembered how Izzy had told him that Max died clutching the toy soldier he'd given him all those years ago, it had shaken Jace. Max's death would always leave a missing piece in their family.

"I take that giggle as a yes," he said.

Jem laughed softly.

"Or," Kit said, "we might prank you endlessly and be chaotic rascals that haunt you."

"Bring it on, Kittiroo," Jace said, using the nickname he had for Kit. Knowing it was longer than his actual nickname but he gave a nickname to kids he liked. And Kit liked it, but would never admit it, ever.

"Whatever, Jacey Jace," he said.

They laughed.

——————

[ Two years later ]

Mina was now two, which meant her and her big brother Kit were up to no good when they came to visit or Jace went to visit them.

They both enjoyed playing tricks on Jace. And to think he made them cookies and tea. And played piano for them.

Jace was walking down one of the Institute corridors, looking through the open doors along their walls, trying to see if he could find the little trouble makers.

He was peering through one of the empty rooms when something came up behind him and said "Boo!"

He turned around, pretended to be scared as he saw it was little Mina. "Oh, you got me," he said.

She laughed. "I always get you."

He smiled at her. "Where's Kit?"

She shrugged.

"Little loyal one, you are," he said. "But if you tell me where he is, I'll give you a cookie."

Mina seemed to be considering this. "Come," she said.

Mina led him to another empty room, where they found Kit.

"Traitor!" he said.

"It's not her fault—" Jace began.

"Not Mina. You," Kit pointed. "I know you bribed her with cookies. You know we can't resist cookies."

"What can I say," said Jace. "I'm a master at bribery."

"Uh, huh," Kit said with a kind of sassy sarcasm. Kit also said 'Uh, huh.' in a way to say he is amused but very doubtful

"Hey, man. I can't help it, cookies are good," said Mina.

"It's not your fault, Min Min," said Kit. "It's the bad man's fault."

Jace gasped in pretend hurt. "The very implicaction of that is hurtful."

"Good," Kit said.

And Jace went over to lift the boy up. "You forget I'm bigger and stronger than you."

"No!" exclaimed Kit, but he was laughing, and Jace always liked to hear him laugh out loud.

"Fight him off, Kit," said Mina.

They ended up wrestling on the floor with Mina cheering for Kit like the loyal sister she was. Them when they were both tired they burst into laughter.

——————

Kit, Jace, and Mina were sitting on a couch while Jem talked about reincarnation; 2 old Mina wore a serious face for her age.

"You see this is why I believe in it so strongly," said Jem, beaming.

"Yes, I see," said Jace.

"It is interesting," Kit said.

Mina nodded.

"Just think about it," Jem said, "you come back in a different form or something new after you die."

Jace wasn't sure he wanted to do this again, and by the look on Kit's face it appeared he felt the same.

"So is that why I'm so exhausted?" asked Kit, "because I've lived so many lives? And keep doing this shit again?"

It was a fair question to ask, Jace thought.

"Kit, no," said Jem. "And don't say that word in front of Min Min."

"Alec says something like that to me all the time," Jace put in. "Except it's usually 'Jace no!'"

"Yeh, well, you're both chaotic dum dums," said Mina.

They all looked at her.

"Wat?" she said.

Jem seemed to be wearing a look of amused agreement.

She was two and yet so smart, and had so many words at times.

"I prefer the term not afraid to take chances," said Jace.

"It's a Herondale thing," put in Kit.

Jace grinned at him. "There you go, bud."

Mina rolled her eyes, she also had a lot of sass for her age. Jem stared at them with a sort of affectionate exasperation.

——————

Jace was sitting beside Kit while he showed him memes and what they meant. Mina came to sit down beside them.

"Jace," she said.

"Yeah, Mina?"

"So you're like my great kind of nephew, right?"

"Great great great or something, yeah."

"So than I am like your great something aunt?"

"Yeah. . ." This would never not be weird.

"Does that mean I get to boss you around?"

Jace didn't know what to say to this.

Kit looked up from his screen. "Wait, does that mean technically I'm your adoptive great something uncle, now?"

"I. . ." Jace had to admit he didn't know what to say to any of this. "Are you two trying to confuse me?" he asked.

They both grinned mischievously.

Jace sighed.

"Hey, dear Nephew," Kit said. "Make me some cookies."

"Dear Nephew," Mina added. "Get us tea."

"You two think you're hilarious."

"Wrong," said Kit, "we know we're hilarious."

"Yeah well," Jace said, pulling them both into the hug, "I'd like to see you get free from my hug."

"No!" They both exclaimed, then tried to get free which turned into laughter from them all.

——————

Jace heard his phone buzz. He looked at it and saw that it was a message from Kit, he'd sent Jace a meme. Jace didn't always understand them, but apparently they were like jokes. He replied with laughing emojis. 

He exited his messaging app and stared his phone background; it was a picture of Max, Rafe, Mina, and Kit in the art room with Clary, who was teaching them to paint. He smiled at it. It was odd to say, but they were his kids in a way and he felt this strong urge to protect them from the world that would try to shut out their light.

He remembered the first time Kit had seen he'd taken picture and used it as his phone background. Kit looked surprised, as if he couldn't think of why Jace would do that. Jace ruffled his hair and quoted one of his memes to him that day. Kit liked to communicate with memes, and so Jace tried his best. Kit had also called Jace a mom a few times, though he wasn't sure why.

His phone buzzed again. This time it was Emma, her message said, "We need to form the sword-blondes club *winking emoji*" Jace couldn't help but laugh, then replied, "The world would've be able to handle that."

He had so many kids and young people who were dear to him now. Sometimes he thought back to his old self, who didn't have much of anyone and who believed that love was weakness. But now, when he looked at these kids, he knew that was lie. Now, he knew he was strongest because of love. He barely remembered it, but thought about the time he first met Jem, he'd been Brother Zachariah then. He'd told him, 'We fight best when that which we love is on the line.' or something along those words. It made Jace smile, to think somehow all this connected, the universe was a strange thing.

He then looked down at the engagement ring on his left ring finger. At some point him and Clary would work toward building a family, and have kids of their own. It both excited and frightened Jace; he wanted to be a father, of course. But he didn't want to snap one day and see his father come out, he didn't want his children to ever have to see something like that. Clary told him he wouldn't be like that, and she was always right, usually. These kids in his life now though, he felt were proof that he could be a good father.

He opened his phone back up and texted Kit a meme.

He was rewarded with, "Well, I'll be damed. He's learning!"

Jace replied with, "Watch your language."

"You watch your own language, Mr. acts like my parent."

Jace laughed. Kids were so odd yet so precious, they were the future, he thought.

Tagging: especially @khaleesiofalicante because she is having Jace and Kit feels, and I think she'll appreciate this. @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @my-archerboy @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[the-arcana-but-saucier]

I had to know your opinion on this. This could be for the main 6 or courtiers or both but how do you think they would react if they had a partner who was dangerously smart but also gets bored of predictability. What do you think they would do to keep them entertained day to day or in the bed?

Ooooh, this is interesting... batter up! *I step up to the plate, bat in hand. The bat gets upset about the way I'm holding it, squeaks at me, and flies away*

...or not. Well, anyway - I think this is a pretty niche concept, in a good way! I like the sort of characters that you're on about - the 'Sherlock Holmes' types, right? Let's see...

Asra: Asra gets to cheat a little bit on this one because of his magic - I imagine it's endlessly fascinating to see just what he can do with it (in bed or otherwise... ;) ) On top of that, Asra is a very mysterious person in general, and so I think he'd be one of the best fits for someone like this, since they'd always be trying to figure him out. And he's not dumb at all, either, so he'd probably try to keep a step ahead of them as best he could :P

Nadia: For Nadia, it would likely come down to games of skill. Chess is the one that comes to mind, but really any game like that. I imagine she'd be pretty competitive about it, and determined to win once she realised that her opponent would not be so easily beaten. In turn, this would likely make her partner feel endeared to her, which would make it all the more surprising when she whips out the more... dominant gear during their downtime. Doesn't matter how smart you are if you're gagged and bound, or so Nadia says :)

Portia: This is a tough one. Ultimately, I feel like Pasha might struggle to keep someone like this engaged, but her own endless curiously could provide highly entertaining to them as they attempt to teach her what they know, and in return, she teaches them all the little secrets, tricks, and shortcuts in Vesuvia :)

Julian: Mmmm.. not sure about this one. Jules is (very) smart academically, but can be pretty socially/situationally dense sometimes. His relationship with the person would likely revolve around intellectual debate staked on raunchy dares, which both parties would likely enjoy greatly. It does rely on the person in question being able to match (or at least bear) Julian's sex drive, though... it might also not be a good fit, since I'm not actually sure how much Julian would like being 'intellectually upstaged' - I genuinely have no idea. Everyone reading, drop your thoughts in the comments!

Lucio: Hah. Hmm. Hah. I don't know about this one. I can only see this going poorly - Lucio would be constantly mad that his partner is so much smarter than him, and his behaviour would either lead to A) various fights, spelling the end of the relationship, or B) Lucio becoming hellbent on 'making damn sure they know I'm smart, because I am! Aren't I?' And attempting to outdo them constantly, which might just be bonkers enough to keep the person engaged with constantly making up new puzzles and riddles for Lucio to solve, and amused at his failures (and happy at his successes!).

Muriel: There would be an odd standoff here; I think Muriel wouldn't really care about how smart the person is, and it might make him feel a bit insecure if they get bored that easily. Sorry, bur I'm not sure this ones a viable match :/ Just can't quite see it working out. Only thing I can think of is maybe the person is intrigued enough about Muriel and his silent persona that they dedicate themselves to getting him to slowly open up about everything, which to them, might just be the most valuable knowledge of all. :)

This is all just speculation, so if anyone else has any opinions/thoughts/cool ideas about this prompt, I'd love to hear them! Thanks for the ask, anon ❤

[swiftwidget]

MHA: Fling Theory

While writing a much, much longer analysis and prediction post (which we will finish and post hopefully by Wednesday - fingers crossed, it’s already been delayed over a week because of work schedules and additions) and a portion discussing what @aoimikans​ and I know of the wider-known Dad for One Theory, I had to pause while discussing the topic of Nana Shimura’s husband.  

At the time, I had been writing about the alternative ways All for One found Nana Shimura and her husband (whether he was a hero, a civilian, or perhaps the 6th User of OfA) and killed her husband. I mentioned there is an alternative theory floating around that All for One was actually her husband, but it is generally easy to debunk based on canon information, including recent information given to use via Gran Torino’s flashback: 

In a recent chapter, when we see Gran Torino watch Nana as she gives up Kotaro, Nana says later in the flashback “if he learns of Kotaro” as if All for One was not aware of the boy, to begin with. That may imply that her husband was killed while she was pregnant and she escaped AfO’s attention long enough to raise Kotaro for a few years. 

One would think that if AfO was her husband, he’d know about Kotaro early on, or at the very least know of the attempts to have a child. And if AfO already knew of their connection, he would try to use it against her and put both her and her child in danger. Not only that but when All for One finds Shimura’s family later on - and he would have to have found them to show interest in Tenko - he simply allows Kotaro and Hana to die. Kotaro, Nana’s son, and Hana, Kotaro’s daughter who resembles Nana in both name and appearance. If he had been her husband and found she’d managed to hide away a child, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t move to possess that entire family somehow. 

Then… It occurred to me that there is another alternative option which I’m calling the Fling Theory. 

All for One approached Nana Shimura under a different name and quirk (much like the theorized Dad for One = Hisashi Midoriya situation) and attempted to get close enough to her to create a relationship, trick her into giving him One for All (and maybe even a child at that point). All for One was unsuccessful stealing the quirk by force up until then. Perhaps he thought a different approach would work, and being a charismatic person and egotistical it sounds like something he’d do. 

Maybe it got as far as a night of passion before Nana realized who All for One was and fled. That would certainly give one plausible explanation for why everything seems so personal when All for One discusses Nana Shimura. Moreover, if she discovered she was pregnant after? A marriage to a hero or civilian husband to cover for the existence of a child would be necessary to hide him. Again, in Gran Torino’s recent flashback, there is that focus on what Nana says: “if he learns of Kotaro...” 

If Nana fled this false relationship, found out she was pregnant but decided to keep the child, and got married to another man in a very short amount of time, wouldn’t that give the prideful All for One reason to kill the otherwise unnamed, unidentified husband first? Revenge against the woman who did what his brother never could except through death, escape him and build another life. When Nana makes the heartbreaking decision to alter her family registry and send Kotaro into foster care, she is not just protecting herself and Kotaro at that moment, but she is ensuring she takes the secret of Kotaro’s father to the grave.

Which makes it all the more terribly ironic given what we believe All for One did upon discovering Kotaro and the life he’d built for himself. 

We believe All for One discovered Kotaro and his family and watched them for some time. Enough time to know their names, their home life, the kind of life Kotaro’s children were living - specifically Tenko Shimura. In 2016, aoimikans wrote a fanfic called “What Lies Have You Told?” based on her theory that All for One gave Tenko the Quirk: Decay. Then in chapter 235, we see a man dropping Tenko off wearing AfO’s signature suit with no tie (just before Decay manifests). This seemed like pretty strong evidence for that to be the case. A while back during our MHA discussions, we also added to that theory that in exchange, All for One took Tenko’s (“Ten” 天 = sky, “ko” 子 = child) unmanifested Quirk: Air Walk which we saw him use at Kamino and was the only Quirk written specifically in katakana. (Sky child, Air Walk → Sky Walk → Skywalker because Horikoshi loves his Star Wars references.) 

All for One never learned of Kotaro’s true origin. In giving Tenko Decay, he put into motion the events that led not only to Kotaro’s death but also the death of Tenko’s sister, Hana.

Each time All for One tries to own/possess family, he ends up destroying it. 

And again, every time All for One speaks to and of Nana, it’s terribly personal. 

In the All Might Rising OVA, AfO thanks Nana for the “amusing comedy.” Is that a bitter reminder that what they had was an act? That it was all a game to him? (At least, it was meant to be a game until she escaped him for a time.) Either way, his monologuing at Nana, the personal focus on her, may have cost him the chance to capture All Might while he was young and unprepared to fight him. 

During their first fight and at Kamino, each time All for One talks about Nana to All Might, he mocks her to anger him. All Might is Nana’s successor but more than that he is like her son. He is representative of everything All for One could not get from Nana, both One for All the quirk and the love and loyalty of family (be it a child or his brother’s remnant in OfA). Of course, he takes every opportunity to rub Nana’s death and what he views as her shortcomings in All Might’s face. 

And how would All for One know of Nana’s ideals in order to mock them? How would he know of her signature push-up smile that he parrots at Kamino? The way he talks about her even as he mocks her seems to imply that he knows these ideals of hers, how she might talk about them, her vision of the future… Sure, she might have said things during their fight, but honestly, that sounds more like something you’d tell someone as you were getting closer to them.  

This theory naturally pairs well with the Dad for One Theory for a few reasons:

The resemblance pointed out between Nana Shimura and Inko Midoriya. (All for One has a type.) 

The resemblance and similarities between young Tenko and young Izuku. (A family resemblance?) 

The continued themes of family, lineage, and legacy that is shown throughout MHA but works specifically well when we think about how Shigaraki and Deku relate to either side of the All for One / One for All coin. 

The continued use of name puns and Star Wars references that hint and foreshadow. 

Side note: How does the 6th User of One for All fit in this theory? 

We assume based on what canon tells us that All for One has been trying to take back his brother’s quirk, the last remnant of his brother and only family. 

(All for One claimed to love his brother - though his view of love is clearly skewed toward simply possessing his brother - and he tried endlessly to manipulate his brother into showing his “love” in return with loyalty to him and his view of the world. In death and through the passing down of One for All, his brother had escaped him.)

Based on flashbacks, All for One’s attempts up until the 6th User seemed to include killing them off while they were relatively young. Maybe he was attempting to hunt them down, weaken them, and then torture them until they willingly gave him the quirk; however, he was never successful because each User of One for All was successful in passing it down to the next, playing a dangerous game of keep-away.

From the 4th (top right, long hair) to the 5th (see his jacket shoulder), from the 5th (center, bald) to the 6th (far right hand?), from the 6th (bottom center, black hair) to the 7th (Nana’s gloved hand at the very bottom of the frame?). 

Aoimikans and I were trying to figure out: Who was the 6th to Nana? 

He looks younger than most of the other users we can see (not counting the younger, blurry version of Toshinori), too young to have been teaching or training Nana. And in the frame discussing how the quirk was passed down, we see that his right arm is missing, he is offering his hair to pass on One for All, and also… 

… he’s smiling. 

There is something else Nana said that makes us wonder if maybe the 6th User was Nana’s first love:  

To be able to meet again at the end within One for All, she thinks it’s romantic. It may just be her personality, but the idea of reuniting with specifically the previous users is romantic to her. 

Could it be then that the 6th was her first, young love? Could it be that they were both heroes and when he was hunted down by All for One, the 6th hastily gave her the quirk with a smile on his face - a smile she pressed onto her face, and a smile she passed down to Toshinori?

Could All for One have found out that she had that kind of relationship with the 6th and attempted to replicate the feelings that led the 6th to pass OfA to Nana? 

Not only that, but there is that focus on the romantic with regards to specifically previous Users of One for All. Why don’t we see that kind of desire to reunite with the husband that was killed? 

Well, if she were trying to find a husband quickly (not necessarily for love), one who wouldn’t mind that she was already pregnant or who would want to just as quickly have a child with her under the belief she wasn’t pregnant - how best would she go about finding such a man? Quirk marriage. It was likely more common in her time. She’s a hero, young, and with a flying-type quirk. She’d be a catch for any man wanting a marriage focused on mixing quirks. And wouldn’t that be just the kicker for All for One? In his view, she fled him only to run into the arms of a man who wanted her for her quirk? His ego can only take so much of a beating. 

Possible timeline: 

The 6th and Nana have a romantic connection

AfO hunts down and fatally injures the 6th

The 6th gives One for All to Nana with a smile 

Nana escapes for a time

AfO discovers Nana and knows of her previous connection to the 6th

AfO uses his knowledge of their connection to try and manipulate her into a relationship based on falsehoods to trick her into giving him One for All 

Nana discovers AfO’s identity and flees

Nana discovers she is pregnant with Kotaro

Nana quickly marries a man, possibly through Quirk Marriage, to explain away the pregnancy

AfO finds Nana again after years and rashly kills her husband before finding out more about her life

Nana is forced to quickly give up Kotaro to foster care and alter her family records to hide him from All for One, keeping All for One from using the knowledge of their connection against her (again) 

Nana goes into hiding again, eventually finds and trains Toshinori and passes down One for All 

All for One finds Nana again but she doesn’t run away. All for One mocks her (allowing her successor and friend to escape) and kills her in the fight but keeps her hand. 

AfO later finds Kotaro and his family, gives Tenko Decay, unwittingly allows Tenko to destroy what family he had made, AfO takes in Tenko and gives him the name Tomura Shigaraki claiming that Shigaraki is his own surname - ironic to be giving his own grandson his surname thinking he’s simply taking from Nana Shimura the last remnant of her own family. Revenge for her giving away the last remnant of his brother to All Might.  

Meantime, AfO took on the name Hisashi, met Inko (who looks like Nana but would be in his view meeker), and had Izuku. 

Fun fact: Shigaraki is 20 in canon. Izuku is around 15. AfO would’ve likely taken in Tenko Shimura around the time Izuku was born. So, at that point in time, he thinks he’s won that battle. Started a family of his own with a Nana look-a-like, and stolen away Nana’s family. All he needs to do now is take back OfA and kill All Might. Then he’ll have everything he’s wanted.

Then, All Might smashes All for One’s Empire and head in, and he takes away All for One’s ability to be a part of the family he’d tried to create. Adding insult to injury, All Might takes Izuku under his wing 5 years later and gives him One for All. Stealing everything from All for One. (All but Shigaraki - the child pawn All for One raised to hurt All Might, not knowing his own grandson.)

And there you have it: Fling Theory!  

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[toovirgins]

March, 1964

Summary: John and Paul (but mostly John) find studying their lines for A Hard Day's Night a drag. John finds other (PG?) ways to pass the time.

The air was still inside the cozy dressing room. A faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to the thick atmosphere, but not enough to ring unpleasant. John gazed at the cigarette as it dangled loosely from his fingers, and deciding against taking another drag, put it out in the ashtray beside him. He tugged at the neck of his black sweater—despite the chill of the winter air persisting outside the window, the room was quite warm. Without much thought, John lazily traced a finger along the window sill, feeling chills spread up his arm at the temperature shock.

It really looked more like an upscale office than a dressing room. Sure, there were four distinct mirrors and hairdresser chairs, as well as a rod near the doorway with an array of suits, sweaters, and trousers for the boys to rotate in and out of. But the room itself was decorated quite elegantly. A soft glow from the floor lamp mingled with the diminishing brightness of outside to coat the room in a honey-like aura. Deep red curtains framed the enormous window, grazing the velvety paisley-patterned rug that covered most area of the room. The rest of the floor was a deep hardwood, without the slightest trace of dust—an unfamiliar concept, John mused. This was much nicer than what they were used to. Immediately upon entering, he had thrown himself onto a long, floral-patterned couch by the window. Paul knew he fancied observing nature while they studied.

Paul was seated a few feet away from him, his long legs draped over the armrest as he slouched sideways over the enormous armchair. His body was facing John’s, and he could see his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he studied his script. His lips moved wordlessly, repeating his lines to himself without speaking at all. He reached up mindlessly and tousled his hair, and John watched as the dark locks fell directly back into place. They had been sitting like this for over an hour now, and John was beginning to feel restless. He had turned his gaze to his friend once he figured he could not possibly watch the nothing going on outside the window for a second longer. Going over his script one more time was always an option, but the thought simply did not interest him. Despite being constantly begged not to do so, John figured he could improvise some lines if they fell blank on his mind. He had a quick wit, and knew that some of his lines would come off better (read: more authentic) than the portrait that the writers had painted of him. He didn’t know how Paul could concentrate for so long, especially seeing as the man had relatively few lines in the upcoming scene.

Almost as if hearing his name appear in John’s thoughts, Paul’s eyes jumped up to meet John’s. He swung his legs over the arm of the chair until he was sitting in an upright (albeit, poorly postured) position and set his script down on the quaint table between them. John pulled the ashtray a bit closer to himself, fearing the disaster that would ensue if he and Paul accidentally burned down the dressing room. They had had their fair share of slightly arsonist run-ins in their youth, and John was too tired to deal with the legal ramifications of an incident like that again.

Paul sighed loudly, bringing John back to present. He hoped this was a sign of his friend’s boredom and restlessness, so he could stop pretending like he was studying his own script. The younger man leaned forward and put his head in his hands, letting out a strained groan as he rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t think I can take any more of this studying, mate,” Paul muttered. “I close my eyes and all I see is ‘No, actually, we’re just good friends’. Why do I have to say that, like, a dozen times? It’s only hardly clever.”

“Quite the realistic portrait, then,” John replied lazily, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips when Paul shot him an irritated glance. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”

Paul checked his wristwatch. “When do you think they’ll be back? I thought Ringo was just going to wander about the town. How long could that filming possibly take? It’s not even scripted. Plus, he’s got that massive hangover. I figured they’d be back around by now.”

John shrugged. George had gone along with Ringo to provide some moral support for the dreaded scene (every scene was dreaded for Ringo today, as Paul was right—he was sporting a massive hangover), leaving Paul and John behind to study for their next appearance. For Paul, it was out of necessity; the poor lad struggled with keeping up with his lines, a fact that made him irritated and anxious. Paul typically wasn’t poor at things. For John, the desertion was more punishment for disappearing on set the day before to explore the city a bit. He didn’t mind, though. It could be worse; Paul could have left him as well. At least he had some company.

“We could go to the pub we passed yesterday,” John observed. “I could use a quick drink. Or two.”

Paul frowned, but John could see him shake his head in slight amusement at his friend’s remarks. “No, we won’t be doing that. Could you imagine how much trouble you’d be in with Brian if you disappeared again? To drink, no less? Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in your daft mind.”

John chuckled at that. He quite enjoyed teasing his friend, pushing forth this Teddy-boy persona that he sported when they first met seven years prior. Though he had no intention of actually going to get drunk in the middle of a work day, he knew that the boy wouldn’t tell the difference. He was aware that his behavior gave Paul a bit of a superiority complex, the feeling of being “the good one”, and the thought of that amused him. The public had yet to see how mischievous Paul McCartney actually was, his puppy dog eyes betraying him at every turn.

Of course, John was one of the few people that saw past Paul’s angelic front. The times they’d shared together had proved that even Brian and George Martin were fooled, as John often fell victim to blame for things that Paul had done. He didn’t quite mind the dynamic, though. He was hardly in real trouble, and it felt nice to have a part of Paul that the others didn’t. He was so hard to read at first, so hard to get close to. The intimacy was welcome to John, in a comforting, familial way.

“What shall we do then?” John mused. He huffed as he struggled to pull himself into an upright position, his joints popping at the sudden movement after being a puddle of nothing for so long. “Go for a smoke? Go for a stroll? Go fetch a bird?” He winked at the last suggestion as heat rose into Paul’s cheeks. Last night, John had also unintentionally taken the blame for a girl that Paul had snuck into the dressing room. Paul had been mortified and profusely thanked him, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little fun with the knowledge.

“Actually,” Paul replied, rubbing his temples, “I’m quite exhausted. Might have a go at a nap.”

“Paul,” John whined, feigned desperation in his voice, “You can’t. I’m so bored. If you leave, I’ll have nothing.”

“Oh, all right,” the boy sighed. “Then you think of something to do. My mind is strained. And,” he jumped, as John opened his mouth to say something, “we’re not going out. I feel like I’m responsible for you right now. Don’t make me put you in time out.” Paul slouched back as the chair engulfed his figure and closed his eyes, humming softly to himself as he let fatigue overtake him.

John’s stomach flipped Paul’s words, though he almost cocked an eyebrow at the absurdity of the feeling. He quickly shook it off, feeling sure it was nothing more than the delight of knowing he could pester Paul endlessly, now that he was aware how Paul felt of the situation. If he was John’s babysitter, then John would act… well, like a child.

John stretched his legs just far enough as to where he could kick the other man’s foot. Paul half-lidded eyes looked up at him with a slightly annoyed expression, but he was met only with the amusement that twinkled in John’s. This seemed to irritate him further, not feeling at all in the mood for physical banter. So John kicked him again.

Paul’s eyes flew open. “Christ, lad, would you knock it off? I’m not in the mood. If you won’t let me leave, at least let me rest here.”

“But I’m bored,” John whined again. “I want to do something.”

“Look over your script,” Paul muttered as he turned his back on him, shifting to curl up into the armchair. “I don’t want to have to deal with you going on about fish and finger pies again next take. I have enough to worry about with my own lines.”

“You don’t own me, Paul,” John shot back. “You’re not in charge.”

“I bloody might as well be,” came the muffled voice that now felt far away.

John fell back on the couch himself, defeated. He gazed out the window again, eyes following an adorable little bird that hopped from tree limb to tree limb. He felt for that bird, or rather, he felt the need to be that bird, happily hopping on without a care in the world. It was so simple and innocent. He wanted to reach his hand through the glass and stroke the little bird, with its enchantingly dark feathers. To John, it looked like midnight, when the sky was still and the world was quiet and there was nothing but yourself and the atmosphere, high above you. Was it a blackbird? A crow, maybe? Its tiny black eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, but not threatening or eerie. Just… there. Being. Existing. It lived only to live, not to please, or love, or conquer. Oh, to be the little bird.

John continued to marvel at it for a few more moments before it fluttered out of sight. He was left with nothing again, his mind grasping at something else to attend to. The script fell out of his hands onto the floor with a thick thud, making Paul twitch in his barely-there state of consciousness.

Paul! A wonderful thing to capture his attention. John nudged his foot against the chair, hoping to shift it just slightly. When that didn’t work, he pushed a bit harder, sending a croaking sound through the room as the chair leg slipped off the rug and onto the hardwood.

“Piss off, Lennon,” Paul growled, his voice thick with the beginnings of sleep. But John couldn’t let him drift asleep. He would be so dreadfully bored.

John got to his knees on the couch, facing Paul’s chair. He gently pushed the stand with the ashtray and Paul’s script out of the way, and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on the arm of the couch and resting his chin atop them. He could see Paul’s side rising and falling rhythmically, the stiff fabric of his dress shirt crinkling with every inhale. He hadn’t changed out from earlier, and was still wearing the pressed white button down, black tie, and black trousers. The only thing he had removed was his suit jacket, which lay draped across the back of the chair. John assumed Paul had noticed the warm thickness of the air in the room as well.

Paul’s side stared back at him, open and inviting. He knew exactly what to do, to piss Paul off to the perfect degree while also keeping up the good spirits. He removed a hand from under his chin and stretched ever so slightly before jamming two fingers—hard—into Paul’s soft side.

Paul yelped in surprise and jerked awake and alert, trying to comprehend what had just happened. John watched him smugly as his brow furrowed in confusion, then annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, John, is it so hard to keep your hands to yourself? You’re a child.”

John said nothing, just watched in anticipation as Paul turned away again, muttering something under his breath. He was cranky now, and John wanted to push his limits. He had nothing better to do, anyway. He tentatively reached back over and, in one swift movement, pinched Paul’s side again and retreated into the far side of the couch.

Paul swung blindly, nearly missing contact with John’s extended forearm as he jumped back. John suppressed a giddy grin, knowing that he had succeeded in his mission. Paul was now wide awake and visibly frustrated, taking a moment to rub his tender side while muttering a string of unflattering curses.

“You wanker,” he shot at John, his eyes burning as he massaged his sore spot. Paul knew that John knew that’s where his weak spot was, his ticklish spot. He was only lucky that John had poked and pinched instead of lightly grazing and prodding. They shared a look, both of them well aware of that fact. John couldn’t help but cock a knowing eyebrow at him, as if to say, I could if I wanted to.

Suddenly, Paul’s eyes darkened. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a mischievous glint overtake Paul’s gaze. He watched Paul’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, running his tongue between his lips in anticipation. John wasn’t sure what the transformation was, but it couldn’t be good. He felt in a moment that he had lost control of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, willing himself to come up with something spectacularly witty, until—

Paul had lurched on top of him in a matter of seconds, digging his fingers into John’s sides. John initially gasped as ticklish tremors ran through his body, the sounds of pure, unfiltered laughter soon filling the air. John twisted under Paul’s iron grip as tears began to spring to his eyes from the hysteria, gasping for breath and unable to keep himself from breaking into a fit of giggles every few seconds. He weakly attempted to reach up and grasp at Paul’s weak spots, trying to give himself the edge again, but Paul caught his wrist with one hand, pinning the other down with his knee. “Uh uh uh,” he chastised, pushing John’s wrist into the couch and underneath his other knee. He was straddling him on the couch, his knees trapping John’s hands at his sides while Paul’s hands were free to mercilessly attack John’s sides, stomach, and neck.

“P-please,” he wheezed, as Paul chuckled lightheartedly above him. “Please stop, I- I can’t breathe—”

“You asked for this,” Paul retorted, not ceasing the torturous movements. His tone was light and amused, sounding as though he found himself greatly enamored with the visual of John writhing helplessly beneath him. “Next time, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

“I will, I will,” John gasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. Slowly, Paul ceased his assault, and rocked back on his heels, letting John’s hands free. He watched as the man caught his breath beneath him, reaching up to wipe away a tear that had fallen in the hysteria. “That was not funny,” John asserted in a mock-serious tone, secretly hoping that Paul would go at it again.

The thought pulled a frown to his face as he contemplated what had just popped into his head. He was “secretly hoping Paul would do that again”? Why? Why did he feel the need to keep it a secret? Why had Paul’s devilish fingers made John’s skin feel so… electric, and tingly? And most importantly, why was he now acutely aware that the man was sitting on John’s lap?

Paul let out an airy laugh and raised himself up off the sofa. John breathed a sigh of relief, concerned over the thoughts that spilled into his head. What the fuck was going on? This was Paul. He enjoyed spending time with him, teasing him, messing with him, pissing him off and making him laugh. Paul, his bandmate. His best friend. His suddenly strangely entrancing best—

Shut up, John begged his mind. He didn’t want to follow himself down a rabbit hole of that sort.

Paul was making his way back to the armchair. He plopped into it, looking as though he was the one who had just been tickled to death. He looked at John with a grin of satisfaction and power, and John knew that the man was about to go for a nap again knowing that John wouldn’t mess with him in that way again.

He liked to prove Paul wrong.

As soon as Paul’s eyes fluttered closed once more, and his breathing became steadier and deeper, John formulated another plan. One that, this time, he would surely be in control of. He watched Paul’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, waiting for his eyelashes to stop twitching, willing the man to fall just enough asleep to where he would be slightly delirious upon a quick awakening. That way, he couldn’t catch John with surprise force as he executed the first step of his plan.

John waited the tiniest bit longer, until he was sure that his friend wasn’t just pretending, and went for it. In a quick movement, John jumped up and pulled at Paul’s wrists, thrusting him onto the floor forcefully but not painfully. The man blinked wildly as John held both his wrists over his head with one hand and began to aggressively tickle Paul’s exposed armpits. He jerked away from John’s touch, still in a faint haze about what was happening, before he began to come to his senses and bite back a cry of laughter. John knew that Paul was far more ticklish than he, and that the quick prodding and nudging wouldn’t drive him nearly as crazy as light, barely-there touches.

He began to cry out on the floor beside John, who was lying on his side, holding Paul’s hands with one arm and attacking him with the other. “Jesus, John, you bastard,” he wheezed, trying to force himself up but unable to do so. His wrists strained against John’s grip.

This struggle continued for a few more minutes, before John’s own stomach hurt from laughing so much. He released his friend and collapsed on the rug beside him, both of their laughter dying out softly as they caught their breath. A silence of about five minutes ensued, neither speaking but both acknowledging the comforting warmth of their shoulders pressed against one other.

After a long recovery, Paul tentatively lifted a leg and crossed it over, placing it in between John’s. Shooting his friend an inquisitive glance—not that this intertwining or personal touch was a strange posture for them, as they had had countless sleepovers in John’s far-too-tiny bed in his Mimi’s home growing up—John nudged Paul’s foot with his own to encourage him to speak what was on his mind.

“Thank you,” Paul said, the tint of laughter still coloring his voice.

“For what?” John replied noncommittedly. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, which was a rather putrid tile, almost like the ceilings in grade school—something that was jarring against the rather royal layout of the rest of the room. He trained his gaze on a particular patch of water damage shaped a bit like the bird he had watched earlier, through the window.

“I know you could have done worse in that little fight,” Paul mused. “I think I would have peed me self. Or died. Whichever came first.”

John hummed in response, now aware that the little leg movement was almost a thank you in and of itself. That simple search for physical contact, a gesture of appreciation, made John’s heart swell. He liked feeling appreciated. It was almost as if John was a girl, and Paul had reached down to interlace their fingers together and offer a quick squeeze, but John wasn’t a girl and instead Paul had thoughtlessly interlaced their legs. It was a nice feeling, one that spread warmth across John’s chest. As much as he wore Paul down, he was so thankful for him. It was a genuine admiration and appreciation (that he hoped was mutual), an experience that was rather foreign to him throughout life so far. He supposed much of that was brought on by himself—if he hadn’t been such a naughty child in school, if he’d been a bit better behaved for his parents, if he hadn’t been such a dick to the girlfriends he’d had. But with Paul, things were different. There were no expectations of being a son, a pupil, a lover. They could just be. Just like the bird.

John smiled to himself at the thought.

[thesolotomyhan]

narcos: dating them would include: gustavo gaviria hc

:)

Tags: @fandomnerd16​ @visintaes​ @sheeshgivemeabreak​ 

let me know if you want to be added/taken off the tag list! 

Warnings: NSFW!

ok, when I think of gustavo being in a relationship i can imagine it being full of pure bliss,

your relationship would make both of your hearts full for one another even when you’re not even looking at each other-

gustavo would need someone who is always on his side but also the complete opposite of his anxious ass,,

wow you would basically be the cushion he can fall back on at the end of the day without criticism from anyone. you would be his home :)

like whenever you see him scribbling all these numbers down in his little notepad for pablo, tirelessly working his mind off,,

you would be the one to pull him away, from his constant state of stress and help him breathe,,

“espérame otros 5 minutos bebé, ya casi acabo”

“gustavo, eso dijiste hace 2 horas, no va a pasar nada con tomarte un descanso, vamos” as your giving him like a shoulder rub, already seeing him relaxing in your touch,,,

god, gustavo is an affection whore,,i know he loves it when you run your hands through his hair, give him kisses, or even hugging him,,, just always touching him, your mere presence calms him and clears his mind,,

i feel like gustavo wouldnt be into taking you out to fancy dates, or clubs, he gives me more of, i’ll take you out to lunch instead, vibe,, c a s u a l

he’s not into publicity or showing you off in front of others that aren’t apart of the family-

but he wouldnt mind you holding his hand or giving him a quick kiss in front of others,, he actually likes that kind of stuff when you’re loving up on him,,

he would also be someone who likes to hold you from behind with his arms across your chest, holding you close to him,, where he might rock the both of you back and forth-

ok, but literally the cutest shit is when you come up to him after he spends all day at pablo’s house, just taking his hat off when you’re in front of him and giving him a sweet kiss,,

the little laugh he’ll give when you do that as he wraps one of his arms around you…

you would probably spend a lot of your time at pablo’s house with gustavo anyways because he would prefer to keep you nearby and not at home waiting for him-

omg, but also being best friends with tata would be a bonus,, just having an attached to the hip type of relationship with her-

, the two of you spilling chisme about pablo and gustavo when youre together,,,

just the perfect girl time with her-

ok listen, you would also be the favorite tia with pablo’s kids,,

just thinking about how you would always be down to play fútbol with juan pablo, or do whatever manuela’s heart desires from you,,

just being that tia that secretly gives them candies before dinner and doing water gun fights with them?? Please omg 

like the idea that you would be chasing them around the hacienda, full on laughing until you’re soaked from head to toe,,

there also might of been multiple times when the 3 of you teamed up and snuck up on tio gustavo who was taking a smoke break-

ugh, pablo would be laughing at the sight of gustavo swearing and chasing after the 3 of you-

wow ok also the thought of gustavo just watching you do all these things for those kids, how you never turn down any of their requests, would have him admiring you even more if it’s possible, his mujer

now is he going to have baby fever after he sees you do literally anything for that pair of kids? Maybe :)) 

god ok the longing look he would give you when he sees you walking into the room,,,

even tho youre not even looking in his direction because you would be talking with tata or something,

but gustavo would forget whatever tf he was talking to with pablo about and just stare at you, the smallest smile showing- omg

Pablo would endlessly tease gustavo for being soft with you even though he adores your relationship and you even more for keeping his cousin happy-

dragging him along to the family events for him to enjoy too, the amused look he would have as he watches you tug him forward to listen to pablo’s speech in front of everyone,,

i- he just gives me the feeling that he would put up with a lot your things just to see the excitement in your eyes-

like deep down he really loves it when you force him to do things,,

can you imagine having late night conversations with him, out on the bench by the pool, where you would be cuddled into his side,

just sitting there for hours with the soft fucking looks you would give each other, talking about everything,,

him singing the songs that would come on the radio to you, omg hold on 

and most of the times, pablo and tata would come join you guys

probably listening to the dumb things they used to do as kids, just, sharing laughs and stories until it gets so late, you’re falling asleep against gustavos chest,,,

fuck, ok but pablo telling gustavo when he sees that you fell asleep-

“no vayas a dejar ir a esa mujer, marica”

just- the way he would look down at you, peacefully sleeping, giving you a soft kiss on top of your head

the feel of the ring that sits inside of his pocket has him chuckling back at pablo,, and imagining how pretty it would look on your hand instead, Im not ok im sorry

NSFW:

ok here we gooo,,

so first off I have this picture in mind where he would be doing his financial things for the cartel out in this outdoor lawn table,-

just looking over the papers in front of him, writing down numbers with like a cigarette in between his lips,

as he just lets himself fall back into his chair, looking down at where you are, on your knees in front of him,,

moving your hair out of your face so he can see you better as you blow him-

just,,, the low groans he’ll let out when he sees you take all of him into your mouth-

“hijo de puta”-

running his hands over his face when he lets his head fall back, trying not to just fucking thrust into your mouth because he wants to see you gag so badly, but he holds himself back,,

he’ll be gripping the arm rest so hard it might break when he looks down again and sees the drool dripping from your lips as you bob you head -ok

so i see gustavo being someone who likes to take his time with you when he has time- a slowburn tempo

just kissing every part of your exposed skin each time he takes something new off of you, caressing wherever he can touch you-

he would know what spots would get you to respond to him quicker and what would have you gripping him harder- 

wanting to see you slowly fall apart,,, 

i feel like he would love to focus so much of his attention to your chest,especially when your on top of him,,

because I know gustavo likes being topped ok,,

just leaving as many marks as he can there- kissing and kneading you’re breasts as he watches you cave your head back,,

he would move his hands to your ass where he’ll encourage you to move your body to grind down on him, smiling against you when he hears you sigh his name out as you place your hands against his chest and move along with his movements,,

god, the way his hands would move to wander all over your back when you reach between the two of you to grasp his cock and slowly sink down onto him, your hands moving to grip his hair as an anchor,, 

he would let you adjust to him for as long as you need as he kisses your neck, letting you take the reins and control the speed whenever youre on top-

he’ll just watch you closely, loving the way you dig your nails into his shoulders as you try so hard to reach your high, once you start bouncing on him,, 

wow, the way how he only needs to thrust just once up into you to see you lose your momentum,

moving his hands up and down your legs when you plant your hands on his chest to steady yourself, -

probably teases you for getting distracted so easily,-

“sigue, pensé que vos quería esto”,- ok

the slow sex,omg

like i can imagine youre on your back with him on top of you, the both of you having your chests touching, nothing being able to get between the two of you,

your face right in front of his as he brings his hand to rest on your chest, slowly but harshly thrusting into you with your legs wrapped around his hips,,

god, his thrusts would have your body moving up on the bed, to the point where you have to put your hand against the headboard to stop yourself from hitting it-

he’ll just be whispering to you how beautiful you look taking him in as he leaves marks on the underside of your jaw,,

his thrusts gradually picking up speed as he moves to kiss your lips, muffling your moans,, as one of your hands come to tug on his hair-

his own hand would come up and hold the back of your neck when he feels you close to your orgasm, just wanting to see the way you roll your eyes back-

*and cuddling afterwards would be his shit,, 

nothing makes his heart warm than having you laying on his chest, mindlessly drawing patterns

your legs tangled with his as he holds you close, the smell of his fresh cigarette filling the room, both of your breaths slowly coming back as the two of you smile into each other,, -

god, and he would also be the mf to call you, when you’re not with him, to be ready for him when he gets home after a long day,, 

“ahorita llego en 15 minutos, te quiero en la cama esperándome”

wanting nothing than to relieve his stress by seeing you under him, moaning his name-

fuck,, just needing to feel you clench around him again while you move your hips up into him, your hair becoming a mess from his hold on it- wow

[its--me-alex]

Imagine Sam Winchester - missed opportunities

Request: “ Sam and reader having the holidays alone in the bunker, basically anything a holidays fun day would include but my only specifics for this vague request would be some type of snow activity and maybe some mistletoe, it doesn’t snow where i’m from and snow stuff is always really fun!! 

Super sorry if it’s too vague, i feel bad asking for anything too specific and kinda embarrassed even tho it’s anonymous, hope you have a happy holidays :)”

A/N: Please don’t ever feel bad or embarrassed about your requests. Writers like myself are estatic whenever we get one. Also I know it ain’t christmas anymore but here is the story anyways, because why not. It isn’t as holiday-ish as intended but still: Enjoy!

Words: 1,619

Memories in italics

POV Reader:

“Almost two goddam months.I really need to get over this! Seriously y/n, there are more importat things than....” you halted your thoughts hating that you couldn’t get over it.

Looking up you felt an immediate wave of regret. Over there sat Sam, looking on one of this oh-so-boring lore books, being calm as ever, as if christmas eve hadn’t happend. You on the other hand couldn’t even sit quietly next to the younger Winchester without having your mind becoming a mess.

It was the evening of christmas eve. Dean who wanted you to “get your shit together, finally stop to eye-fuck his brother and rather do the real thing” left the two of you to “get some beer”. Unfortunately he got stuck on the road because of some “car problems”, which left you and Sam alone in the bunker to celabrate christmas.

Trying not to remember that Dean told you very specifically to ask his brother out you try to keep your hands steady while you stand next to Sam to prepare your dinner. Looking at him out of the conner of your eye, you saw that he was as collected as always.

“Why would he be nervous anyways”, you asked yourself: “it isn’t as if the two of you had never been alone together”

But you were fidgety anyways, knowing what Dean wanted you to do. “He dosen’t like me that way. Why does Dean what me to embarrass me like that to him?!”, you thought.

“y/n? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, sure just thinking ‘bout stuff, y’know?”

“Oh-okay. Ahm.. I’m done with cutting the vegetables . You?”

You tested the nuddles and said: “Yeah there done.”

You already feared the strange atmosphere, that you expected at the dinner table, but to your surprise everything went perfect. As it was normal for the two of you you had one great conversation topic after the next, half of them making you laught the other half being some deep shit.

After you finished dinner, you cleaned up and decided you wanted to have a glass of whiskey in the liberay.

Sam went there first and you moved back to your room to check on your phone quickliy before you wanted to join him.

Going into your room you screened it, for where you phone is. You found it on your nightstand. While walking back to the liberary where suspected Sam was already waiting for you, you turned it on.

There where endlessly many notifications for misssed calls from Dean. As you just wanted to click on the button to hear what he had to say, eventhought you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear him asking how far you and Sam made it with the talking-about-your-feelings, you saw Sam standing in the door to the liberary looking up.

“Ahm... you alright there Sammy?”, you asked gigerly, competly forgetting about Deans calls.

You just wanted to go passed him, as he grabed your arm softly.

“Well.. Y-you know I... actually ahm”, he paused.

Now extremely curious of what had the fearless and calm hunter Sam fucking Winchester so out of his head you looked up too. Above your heads there was a miseltoe with a small note in Deans Handwriting “Since I know you two I herby give you a push.”

“He’s having a strange humor again, eh?”, you tried to laught it off knowing that you would possibly catch fire if his lips were to touch yous.

“Ha! Yeah, but y’know, he will know if we don’t ... so that”, hawking he took a deep breath and then looked you directly in the eyes.

Suddenly he softly grabbed the back of your head. Everything started to be tingeling and your breathing became eratic as his other arm found his way around your waist to pull you more into him.

Trying to steady youself you put both of your hand on his firm chest, feeling his strong muscles underneath his ugly christmas sweater.

His eyes were still focused on yous as he took a deep breath. You had to swallow hard as he bend down a bit to be on your hight.

All your thoughts were gone and your heart was fluttering so much it almost hurt as you were anticipating his next move.

He broke the tensed silence between the two of you with a whisped: “Is this ok?”

Swallowing hard yet again you answered in a raspy voice: “Y-Yeah”

Slowly, giving you any chance to escape, his face came closer to yours. You reacted by parting you lips slghtly. Then you felt his shallow breath on your face as you both closed you eyes gradually. When you could finally, almost feel his clapped lips on your soft ones ....

BOOM!

Thinking back to the day of christmas eve you sighned heavily. Dean had interrupted you right befor you both could finally have what you had craved for for years. To be fair, there was a problem with witches that couldn’t wait, since they were attacing Lebanon trying to catch children who were feeling “true happiness” to sacifice them to some god of theirs.

Needless to say that you fought them hard, but still some of them escaped far away. It took you until yesterday to kill them all, before Dean decided he would drive throught at night, if that meant he cold spend the next night on his memory foam. Currently he wanted to get some  groceries since all you had was to old by now.

Thinking of the devil, Dean came throught the bunker door with two big bags full of things.

“Whoa, Dean! Are we gonna host some party or why did you buy the whole store?”, Sam asked, snickering at the sight of his brother struggeling those two big, heavy-looking bags.

“Ha-ha, Bitch. So funny. There was a sale at the shop from which we get our weapons and ammunition. So I bought it!”, Dean exclaimed.

“Bought “It”?“, you asked curious but still amused.

“Ahm, everything he had. He-he”, Dean ducked his head as if he just now noticed that what he bought might really be a bit too much. Knowing Dean you asumed he really just had that realisation.

As Sam gave his brother the famous bitch-face Dean replied: “You know what: I did the shopping, you do the carrying stuff part. Theres lots still in the trunk.”

Huffing Sam and you realised that descussing this would take longer than to just carry all in.

As you were gettting up Sam reacted by saying “O-oh no. You don’t need to help. I got this. It’s very cold outside.”

“We are quicker if we work together. I’m just gonna put a jacket on.”

As you took a step outside of the bunkers main entrance there stood the impala. It’s shiny black hood looking impressive on the white background.

“Did you knew it had snowed?”

No. But it’s great isn’t it?”

“Yeah!”

After that short exchange you both started to carry in one heavy bag full of ammunition and weapons after the next.

As you just walked outside to check if there was another bag left, you felt something hitting your back.

Turning around quickly you saw Sam standing there and failing to look innocent.

“You shouldn’t have started a fight you can’t win, Winchester!”

“Oh really? What do you what to do about it?”

Reacting to his sassy words you quickly grabbed a hand full of fresh white snow and threw it in his face.

“How about that.”

“Oh you are in for it y/n.”

With that a heavy snow fight brock out between the two of you. You would always dodge his snow, something he couldn’t.  

Just as you wanted to throw another snowball at him, you looked around but couldn’t see him. Right when you wanted to yell at him, that you would go back inside to drink something warm, secretly hoping he would come out of his hideout, so you could throw another load of snow at him, you got tackled from behind. 

Hunter instincts kicking in you throw that (fairly heavy) person off of you, turn around and press them into the ground with your full weight on your arm holding them down at their troat.

“Look who’s there.” you hear Sams voice close to your ear.

“Shit! Sorry Sammy! I didn’t... Sorry”

As you tried to get off of him you first took your arm away from his neck.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna make the best outta it.”

With that he turned you around yet again, so he was laying on top of you. However he was, other than you, very carful to not put his whole weight on you as he reached for something in his pocket.

“When we were coming home earlier, I spotted something that had me reminded of how much I wanted - no still want ... something.”, he stuttered.

As you just wanted to ask whats the matter, he showed you the miseltoe under which the two of you had almost kissed months ago.

“Ever since this evening I was barly able to hunt down those witches. I tried everything y/n, and still... all I could think of was how good you smelled, and how soft you lips looked, how perfect your body felt under my hands, how much I wanted to... “

You stopped him by pressing you lips to his in a loving kiss, just as you had dreamed of so often since you fell for him. And just like you imagined it was perfect. Both of you could only concentrade on this very moment as you both fullfilled you deepest wish of being together that way.

Breathing heavily you answered: “ Yeah, me too.”

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

Also check this out:

https://its--me-alex.tumblr.com/post/637948228780933120/headcanons-castiel-how-he-fell-for-you-he-met

[magpiemorality]

Remus vs. His Birthday

Long post is long, keep reading isn’t working sorry all!

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, gore, murder, nsfw things; unfriendly Remus (he’s just antagonistic not unsympathetic); Remus being rude about the nsfs tag (not an opinion the author holds).

AO3

***

What exactly was the point, Remus wondered, of a birthday? Was it a celebration of cheating death? A consolation prize for getting through another solar rotation of mundane life? An apology to everyone in your life for existing? 

Yeah Remus wasn’t sold. Why would you bother? If it was a celebration why celebrate only once a year, when society told you you could, rather than whenever life was actually worth celebrating? Why not impose yourself on all days, or better yet forget days were a thing at all? 

(That last part sounded like Janus when he was on one of his society-is-a-con rants but Remus liked the idea. And the rants. They were pretty fun to listen to.)

Today was, apparently, Remus’ birthday, for all that meant to him. The real issue was that, irritatingly, it meant something to everyone else. And before this year, specifically this year, that would have meant squat. But this damn year it meant plans. 

Plans were another thing Remus didn’t see the point of. Why think about future things when you could think about now things and just do them? He was all impulse, by design, and sticking to a plan was incomprehensible and pretty revolting to think about, torture plain and simple for a creature like him. 

Remus seethed at the very concept, staring daggers at the envelope that had dropped into his home in the subconscious. Literal daggers, shredding the cheerful mint green paper of it with vicious pleasure, until the daggers were just thudding into the floor underneath and he got distracted playing target practice with various shadows of particularly nasty thoughts that crept through the dark corners down where he lived. 

Daggers exhausted and eyes back to normal, he collapsed into the blow up armchair he so adored (mostly because it made brilliant fart-like noises whenever he shifted around) and wondering if plotting went against his moral stance on plans. He felt like plotting. He felt like not celebrating his birthday thank you very much. 

Unfortunately the next thing to drop in was much more Thomas-shaped, and it dusted itself off nonchalantly while he considered a return to the dagger-eyes. 

“J-anus.”

“Remus. Must we be like that?” Janus asked with his very carefully crafted snobbish distaste. “I come in peace.”

“Wish you’d come in pieces. That would’ve been much more fun,” Remus muttered, and as he blinked at the other side body parts started to drop piece by piece around his intruder. Janus glanced down at the first and hid a delicate shudder, returning his gaze to Remus’ face and steadfastly holding it there. Remus dropped a nose on his shoulder just to spite him. He could appreciate a good pun as well as the next side. 

Janus cleared his throat. “We would like to celebrate your birthday. It’s not entirely, ah, a birthday party, per se? But Logan predicts the fans might celebrate for you, and Thomas will naturally be unable not to think of you much. The invitation was more of a heads up.”

“Attention? On moi? I’ll have to dress appropriately. Birthday suit is only right!”

“Remus-”

“What? Don’t approve? It’s not even my birthday, Snake Bell. They’re just something Daddy latched onto to make his dreams of normality come true. Besides, it’s not like anyone wants me front of mind- where worse to have your darkest thoughts after all?” 

“That’s not the point.”

“Ah, points. I was thinking about those. I think the more the better-” he grinned, twirling his hand and summoning his morning star into it “-but this has precisely none. I don’t want to celebrate it. No one else wants to celebrate it. Drop it there, or I’ll drop you all one by one off a tall building. Or maybe the plank. Now pirates, there’s a fun aesthetic...”

Clearly the conversation wasn’t going the way Janus wanted because he looked visibly frustrated, pulling his hat off to rake a hand through his hair with a little scowl marring his- well, half of his face. If Remus took a meat-cleaver down the centre of his skull he wouldn’t have matching halves. Ooh, Heathers. Now there was another fun aesthetic. Imagine turning up to the joke of a celebration in a cutesy prep school outfit complete with croquet mallet. Hammer. Thing. Remus wasn’t sure of the name, but it didn’t have any points so meh. Maybe it could be a fun experiment, like the Riverdale Heathers episode, which Remus had only experienced through the triple layer disconnect of Thomas watching it and unwittingly handing it over to Janus to hide down in the subconscious where all the other undesirable memories, experiences and miscellaneous things lived. Like Remus! 

But he was losing focus, and Janus was still there. Ugh.

“Just be prepared, alright? It would be highly appreciated if you didn’t just show up and antagonise Thomas on the one day he’s allowing you up front. I know it’s hard but just... ix-nay on the eath-day, ex-say and ore-gay?”

“Ooh, ore-gay, or orgy? Did you mean to say orgy?” Remus grinned sharply and Janus’ remaining composure dribbled away. 

He muffled a scream into his gloved hands before glaring once more at Remus. “Just behave. Or I will put you back here, and you will stay here until even the memory of you has faded, understood?”

Remus’ mouth clicked shut and he nodded, eyes narrowed balefully under the scorching threat. “Understood. But next time you feel the need to threaten me with hiding again, maybe don’t do it in my own home, hm?”

“Wha-”

“Bye Felicia.” The sound of Janus’ screech as he was shot upwards by a giant tentacle and shoved back through the ceiling to where he belonged was like music to Remus’ ears. Scream music. Oh, how interesting, what if he took screamo music and put it to actual screams?! 

~

It was such a good idea that he forgot about his ‘birthday’ entirely while focused on his project until the next day, when the tugging started. It was gentle at first, just the odd prod, like a big finger was occasionally checking his responses. Like he was a tiny lab rat in a giant world, and boy did that one hit a little too close to home. Home here being allofhisgreatestfearsatonce. 

He didn’t want to answer the call, he really didn’t, but... Remus was curious, and impulse won out as always. Because why not go look? Why not go see? Who cared how it turned out- the fun was in the spontaneity, in the doing. 

Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was not what he’d have expected had he expected anything at all. But Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was what awaited Remus topside, out in the full force of consciousness. It burned, being here, and Remus was reminded once more that in many ways he’d not been imprisoned down below for everyone else’s safety but also his own. Damn the snake for his constant self-preservation. Remus wanted to be mad at him for leaving for once!

“Hi Remus,” Thomas greeted, that same amusement on his tone. And oh, yeah, he’d gone with the Heathers look after all. It was a warm summer day and skirts were nice and breezy, sue him. Remus struck a pose with the croquet... thing, and bared his sharp teeth. 

“Did you miss me? Oh you did miss me didn’t you. I can tell! You’re just so curious about me! Well-”

“Settle down,” Logan warned, and oh. Yuck, other sides. 

“Yeah why don’t you-” Remus screamed, high pitched and piercing, as his supposed twin’s voice came from right behind him, spinning and swinging and almost catching Roman in the face with the blunt weapon. Only Virgil’s quick reflexes managed to save him, leaping into the way to catch the head of the mallet like a baseball. Now baseball, there was an impulsive and dangerous sport. Why had they never taken up baseball? 

Oh that was right... 

“Well done Virgil!” Janus smiled. Because the snake said no. And Virgil said no. And when the two of them agreed even Dream Daddy had to comply. Whatever, it was never too late. The croquet mallet turned into a baseball bat as his thoughts flickered, but it was boring and not pointy enough, until he added the nails. 

Everyone flinched back slightly, even Thomas, and Remus hefted the weapon onto his shoulder with a proud jut to his chin. Good. 

Thomas looked uncertain but he tried again. “Um, that’s cool. Like from the Walking Dead?”

“Just like that! Who volunteers as zombie?!”

“Actually we had something else in mind!” Thomas interjected quickly, turning his phone around to show the screen. “Look, cool art!” 

Remus didn’t miss the glance Thomas sent around the other sides for approval, but he was soon distracted by the contents of the screen. He scrolled, and scrolled, and kept scrolling. Huh. This was, actually pretty cool stuff. Plenty of blood, gore, some sexy things. And all not just about him but for him. Interesting. 

Also this tumble thing was dreadfully good. He’d have to get one. Endlessly scrolling on a sea of blue was the perfect- aka worst- kind of instant gratification mixed with cybergothic horror that he’d always wanted to explore creatively not that Thomas would let him if he only understood more about it. 

Around the room the other sides and Thomas stood, waiting with bated breath to see what might happen. It had been a few minutes of silence, which had Janus’ jaw dropping open and Virgil shifting nervously on his feet. Roman busied himself looking over Remus’ shoulder and trying not to wince at the gross stuff as he appreciated the art himself. Finally it grew too much and Thomas had to know. He had to!

“Is it good? Do you like it? I think there’s a lot of cool stuff there but-”

“Did you know there was an explicit tag specifically for us?” Remus gasped in delight, before frowning. “Jeez, we get our own tag. How prudish are your audience Thomas?”

“And that’s enough of that!” The phone was neatly plucked from Remus’ fingers and tossed over by Roman, shrugging when Remus glared at him. “So what do you think, Remus? They all made that stuff because they wanted to celebrate you. Janus mentioned you don’t like birthdays, but-”

Remus held a hand up to shut him up. “Okay look, it’s not my birthday. But that stuff was pretty cool. Especially the naughty bits. So, uh, thanks I guess. Don’t get used to it but thanks. And now bye! I have zombies to kill. I need to perfect my Hollywood zombie strike for maximum blood spray and noise.” He blew a kiss and vanished in a pop of noxious gas, leaving poor Roman to gag and leap away before it could get on his clothes. 

Beneath them (figuratively) in the subconscious, Remus landed on a trampoline that instantly snapped to dump him on the floor with a thump, where he lay, stunned not from the fall but mostly from all the thoughtful and cool tributes to him he’d seen. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad. Maybe the point was to feel a little proud of yourself and who you were, and where you were in life. He was, maybe not entirely but certainly almost, a real functioning side in Thomas’ mind, not reduced to intrusive thoughts from time to time when the barriers wore thin. 

Also he had a nail-bat now. And a whole bunch of new ideas from the art he’d seen to try out too... Where to start?

Well, apparently he had a whole year to figure that out. 

-

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - A Belle Tune

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

Chapter 1 - A Belle Tune | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - stalking, mild injury, angsty vibes

Author’s note: Here we go dear readers, a whole new series!! As I was setting out the plotline I kept saying to myself; “Let’s make this 3-5 chapters, a short series, okay, Wolfie?” ...Welp... Apparently I have many talents, but writing short series is not one of them. I’ve tried again and again to reshape the plot into a shorter, snappier version, but I just couldn’t. So, here goes; 12 chapters of broody vampire Henry and sweet Belle. I hope you are ready ❤️

Word count: 1.991

Reading music: Agnes Obel - Tokka 

(Link to my Masterlist)

-

It was the first day of Autumn, summer finally past, as a tale of old was sung anew.

The land was cracked open dry and dusty after months without rain, the crops starting to fail just before harvest season. It made the tensions run high amongst the town folk, their worried eyes aiming upwards. The air had been thick for days now, the clouds drifting heavy and grey on dreary skies, foreboding a long awaited storm that just wouldn’t break.

And yet, not all were worried. At this moment the morning air felt slightly cheery too, as a soft tune wove through the ancient pine tree forest that lay like a prickly blanket over the rolling hills. 

It was a familiar tune, sung by a familiar woman’s voice, her pale skin and dark braided hair a sight he saw often in these parts of the land. Before her, two mutts sniffled happily, their wet noses pushing through the fallen leaves and shrubs that covered the dry forest floor. 

From the shadows of that same thicket, he was watching her, watching her rosy lips curl up in that dreamy smile, her feet kicking her blue skirts with confident strides.

Belle, he knew her name by now, was one of the few who dared to wander so close to his grounds, his domain, her skirts rustling as she conjured a book from the depths of her pockets. Always reading. 

At first he had been somewhat surprised to see a woman of her position even owning a book, a proper book. Her father was but a poor horse handler and her family long deceased. 

But, indeed, she could read. 

With an elegant hand she brushed down her skirts before sitting down on that same fallen down tree that she used everyday; her hide-out whenever the weather allowed. Clicking her tongue she instructed her dogs to lay down, her hand flicking through the book, returning to the page where she had left off a day ago.

Away from the snarky remarks and jealous whispers of the town folk, here she could read as dawn cracked over the horizon, her presence welcomed by the listening embrace of the forest and its inhabitants. The birds quieted their song and the mice and squirrels halted their squabbling, just long enough to look and listen, bewitched beady eyes watching the pretty woman as she started to read aloud.

It was an old and leather bound rendering of Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche, an ancient fairy tale, the book nearly falling apart as she brushed her fingertips over the yellowed, vulnerable pages. She had read it a dozen times now, and yet the monster couldn’t help but listen, his lips moving in a silent joined recital. He knew the words by heart at this point.

What exactly she did by the day time he couldn’t tell, his disposition making it impossible for him to visit town when the sun was out. And thus he would just imagine it. Perhaps she worked as one of the chambermaids for the Les Comtes. Perhaps she helped her father in the stables - he had seen the old man during the nights many a time, his rough hands being ever so gentle with the handsome beasts that belonged to the Les Comtes. In fact all was owned by the Les Comtes, the family so rich that almost all villagers worked for their estate and businesses.  

Far too soon Belle’s voice would silence again, her finger tracing the page she had ended on, memorising it before gently closing the book, her eyes looking up through the thicket of the tree branches, watching those looming clouds up above. He knew what she thought; it was going to rain and she probably couldn’t return to this spot for a long time.

After the rain would come hail, winds, winter. And as it goes with reading outside, her natural reading nook was simply not able to hide her from the elements, and, with her reading hobby sneered at by the town’s folk, this might very well be her last reading session for this year.

With a sigh she got up, calling for her dogs and making her way back to the village, long skirts kicking, her book hidden back in the depths of her pockets. Oh, how he was going to miss her. Even if it was just for a day. Here in the forest he was awaited by an eternal nothingness. No job, no destination, only empty days that wove into a long string of months, years, centuries.

Returning to the crumbling ruins of his castle, the grande structure long past its glory days, he wandered endlessly through its halls, dust collecting on items that shouldn’t ever run into such disuse. Plates, cups, the fireplace, the beds. For centuries now he could not feel the pleasure of the simplicity of life. The food ashen on his tongue. His eyes, though closed, never truly resting. His skin no longer feeling the comfort of a warm hearth. His still beating heart but a mousy whisper of its once roaring strength.

Watching those heavy clouds above the treetops, he knew that it would be long before he would get to hear her voice again. A storm was looming, the long dry spell finally coming to an end and taking with it the long awaited rains. He knew it was a necessity, the listening critters around him feeling desperate for food now winter was soon to arrive, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment all the same. Because with the dreary days would come even more dark hours for him, the last sparkle of joy ripped from his life until spring would probably come again.  

—

‘Another one dead.’ The hunter growled, heaving the dead dog’s body from his cart, the boneless heap of bled out sinew and fur unceremoniously dropping to the dusty ground. With the ongoing drought, food has become more and more scarce. Crops were failing, wild animals were roaming nearer to the village and despite their best efforts, the hunters had great difficulty to actually catch anything. Something strange was afoot in the forest and rumour was about; it was the beast!

‘So no luck then.’ Arthur said in a hushed tone, his old knees cracking as he squatted down to inspect the remains of the hound. And indeed. Neck cracked, jugular torn, the required strength for such an act belonging to no less than a bear..or beast..of sorts.

‘Twas a mad dog anyways. But still..’ The hunter squinted, looking out over the yellow grassed meadows, to the edge of the forest where that monstrous beast hid away. ‘..we must see to it. The darn thing must be done with once and ..for..’ He blinked, then looked at Arthur with mild confusion. ‘Is that Belle?’ He pointed at a figure that appeared from the tree-line, two dogs at either side of her light blue skirts.

Arthur pushed himself up with a groan and also squinted his eyes, his sight no longer what it had been. ‘If it’s a pretty thing with two mutts, a dress of blue and a smile for days, it must be Belle.’ He said, his vision too blurry to discern anything that resembled his daughter. The hunter gruntled his disapproval, though not denying that it was indeed Belle, his strong, broad shouldered frame turning back to his cart to bring out what few rabbits and pheasants he had managed to catch in his traps. ‘You ought to bring some sense in that girl, Arthur..’ He warned, bushy eyebrows frowning as he looked back at the girl, her skirts twirling as she threw a stick for the dogs to fetch.

‘She is just so very much like her mother.’ Arthur sighed, not fully agreeing with the hunter’s sentiments as his lips curled in an amused smile.

‘Tcould be the death of her, old man. The beast is out there, I know that much. In fact. There’s a meeting in the town hall by sundown, in case you wish to join.’

‘Good..good...’ Arthur nodded, only half-listening now, his eyes finally managing to focus on Belle as she kicked her legs over the wood log fence near the stables he worked, her face all smiles and skirts a muddy mess.

Oh..Belle!

--

The shutters of the barn-like town hall shuddered, the wind outside picking up and the torch flames dancing wildly in the draft. It was a busy night, the floorboards creaking as the town’s men got up from their benches to express their bewilderment and frustrations, loud “Aye’s” and “Nays” echoing in the air as the discussions roared.

Now the food reserves of the town were running low and people had to ration, the tension was near tangible. Winter was coming and the people felt as restless as the storm that was picking up outside. The pigs needed to be fed, the elderly were struggling, sickness was spreading and all fingers pointed angrily at the direction of that wicked forest. The Beast’s forest.

‘Dear people! My people!’ Old Master Le Comte stood up from the throne-like seat that was situated right at the head of the hall, his fatty fingers balancing a shiny cup of wine. He raised his hand to calm the uproar, old furrowy brows raising up to show two grey, beady eyes. ‘Say AYE and agree, that we must see to the end of this beast for once and for all. He threatens our livestock, steals our hunted bounty and his cursed evil talons bring us only disease and misfortune. This drought? I would not be surprised if it were by HIS design!’ He exclaimed.

The town roared up with enthusiasm, fists raised in the air as a loud ‘AYE’ resounded front to back. In fact only the old man Arthur sat quiet, far in the corner, thinking fingers pulling at his moustache. He had discussed the matter with Belle and all she had to say was; “It is indeed quite practical to make a simple minded animal responsible for all your sorrows. But is it right to kill it because you conjured an image of beastly proportion, fed by your own fears? From what I heard he only has killed those who came too close..far too close.” 

‘HELP HELP!! The church! A FIRE!’ The large doors of the hall swung open as a young man burst through, arms waving in despair, the discussions regarding the monster quickly forgotten as everyone made haste to stop the flames as they quickly swept around them, the simple wooden structures of the inner town feeding themselves like perfectly dried logs to the hellish bonfire.  

Arthur looked up from his daze and slowly followed the hastened crowd outside, his feet no longer so fast as he felt a sudden, surprising coolness in his neck. A wet coolness. With a question in his eyes he looked up at the darkened sky, feeling another drop on his wrinkly skin. Rain? Did the gods bless them just in time? Would all be well?

A conclusion made prematurely, as a new alarm was struck from the village’s heart.

‘THE BEAST! TIS THE BEAST!’ The loud screams came from the village square, Arthur’s attention immediately drawn back to the people that sped past him. Oh no..oh no...BELLE! She was alone, she was..

*FLUNK*

With a loud thud Arthur smacked to the ground, his eyes blinking in shock as he saw the person who had bumped into him rush passed, the silhouette of the person already fading from his vision as all he could do was claw into the dusty road, eyes seeing all black.

Oh no...he thought, his body now fading out of consciousness. Belle! She must be warned! She was all alone! The beast..Oh Belle..the beast..and...Belle...

With heavy blinking eyes he scratched and cried, trying to gain the attention of people rushing by, but failing. None could hear or see him as the storm drowned out his wails and the night hid him in unblinking dark, leaving him with little else but hope, hope that Belle’s joyful tunes would indeed not be ended at the slashing of beastly claws, like the hunter had warned him for this morning.

Oh Belle, dear Belle..

--

Chap 2 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message! 

[psychemeanscure]

PART 21

Everything happened so fast. It was just Jang Taeyoung being wasted with the amount of alcohol he can be after a wrecking voice message he received from her to later getting delirious of her own image he always adored for. The next thing his assistant could only remember, was that they already backing up their boss of knocking out each man of the Alcaziar’s son, Zilo.

Yes, they’re currently in a chase to get the two-faced young dimwit indeed. Going ever possible place it could gone. And they did. Its warehouse of drugs. Jang Taeyoung holding a steel bar in its right hand, the other’s in pocket then he’s good to go with another battle. Walking boringly to the next pack, he spoke.

“Were you the last batch?”        

Lee tried to stop his boss for a reason, just to be interjected by Jae. “Don’t dare.”

“What?! He’s not thinking straight, Jae. We need to stop him before it gets worse!?”

Truly. They might just be ordinary subordinate who only follow the orders been ask to them, yet they were still human after all. Over the years of working with the great troubleshooter, they knew they also learn to care for him. So for Lee to witness the extent of his boss’ moves until today is too much not to pry.

Or better well said, being acquainted with a woman named Sung Eunyoung is dangerous more than what he expected it to be. He’s aware. Rather they all aware of its affection to her, but how can’t he worry when high officials were already involved. Given that his boss was in the bridge of being observed due to being investigated she caused even. They shouldn’t risk his safety!

“Jae!”

Another call he needed to his co-subordinate. “We can’t.”

Only to get debated once again. “The f*ck?”

His complain, but a recall for Jae. Remembering every bit, a Jang Taeyoung perceived when he himself tried to stop him as well. In its penthouse, in front of its own portrait. He knew, his boss is ready to risk everything.

The way Jang Taeyoung pushes the invisible button of his portrait revealing his secret revolver, a still wrapped blue gum, and cd tapes he left hidden over the years. A remembrance of his failed past. The SIESTA project which was once his writer self’s work to greed.

Tucking the gun on his holster while handing the gum and tapes to his assistant. He commanded. “Send this to Manager.”

By the mere mention of it, Jae instantly got alerted. He doesn’t even need to ask further for he already understand what that was. The Manager. Its former Russian boss who has a knack of not giving up pursuing his boss’ blue gum experiment that even after its exit with the gang, its interest didn’t end. Yet, Jang Taeyoung never gives in to that. Despite the continuous offer his former boss bestow for him, none until today.

He never been for he knew it was unsuccessful itself. He cannot manage of showing it again. Not even his Sung Eunyoung who almost knew about it. The reason why it’s been covered with satin cloth all the while as his hasty flexes halts her the moment she was about to touch his portrait. But if it’s his failure the only choice to keep her safe, so be it.

“Boss, isn’t it better if we should see things first before doing---“

“There ain’t something to see already, Jae.”

“But boss, you know the consequences---“

“Can’t you see this isn’t about me anymore?!”

He finally erupted. Sighing to calm himself, he faced his assistant once again. “He’s the only one who can help us. So just do what I told you to do so. You know what I meant about it, aren’t you?”

Hearing his last sentence somehow relieve his assistant as a proposal begins to form from its mouth. “If that’s the case, then we should ask for extra troop for you, bo--“

“I don’t need one. She’s much important.”

Responding a groan, Jae disagreed. “Boss, we can’t get you in dang---“  

“Another word Jae, and I might just kill you as well.”

And just like that, he surrendered and comprehend his boss’ request instead. And just as today they had no choice but to watch him fighting without braking.

Tapping Lee’s shoulder, he reminded. “We can no longer stop him, Bud. He’s already unstoppable. Accomplish or not, we’re only left with one choice and that is to protect who’s important to him at all cost. That’s all he wants.”  

Huffing with heavy breath with one-man punch to enemy’s underling, “F*ck this.” He follows. As in just a snap, they became their boss’ support system.

~

“Boss, saw the Alcaziar!”

A shout from one of his men, Jang firmly retorted. “Where?”

Pointing out the area, his men answered. “Along the hallway, upper right.”

That with one swift move, he tags along sprinting to the opposite side contradicting its path until he did. He reached him as he pointed his already loaded revolver at the back of its head. No doubt, the young Alcaziar is finally captured.

Welcomed by its mocking smiling face as it turns to face him, hands in the air. “Bang, little brother.” His reciprocated mockery even. As the act-like embarrassed Alcaziar answers. “Eish… Fine. I’m busted.”

For it was also too fast for Jang to drag him in a scattered gambling room, being beaten in some of his trivial parts. “Now, dimwit. It’s either you tell me where your delusional father is, or be dead instead. Your choice.”  

Wiping out some dust from his black suit, he threatened. Just to receive the snickering laugh of the young Spaniard, looking up to him, drained. “As if I had a choice either.” Its own hopeless answer as Jang Taeyoung starts to click his heels to sit by a near table with checker chips on it. Unmoved from the pity situation of the other. Picking one piece of chip as he pictures it like chess pieces before opening a theoretical talk.

“You play chess, Zilo?”

“I am. Why?”

As delighted Jang smirk. “So will you believe if I say why queen and knights are best partners in chess then?”

Confused Zilo questioned. “Shouldn’t it be the king and queen on a throne, though?”

Rubbing the texture of the checker chip, he retorted. “That’s the luxury of monarch, dimwit. Unfortunately, we’re talking boards where all I can see is a king who only proves himself useless in it. Hiding between his towers and pawn fences while lazily waiting for its queen’s pride and brave knight’s outcome. You got the sense, Zilo?”

Narrowing eyes starts to retract. “A give and take blabber getting the privilege which should have been given to queen and knights, you saying? Pathetic.” 

“Exactly. Makes sense, right.”

“Right. So what do they call each other? Comrades ready to reach supremacy? Great.”

As the amused chuckle came after Jang, “That’s how they’re made to be a perfect team! And you know what’s more fascinating?”

“What?”

Walking over to the young Alcaziar again, he bent. “It was when a queen’s in danger, the knight cannot be much angrier than slaughter and unforgiving.” Face leveled, as he begins to tap his revolver to its cheek itching to pull its trigger.

“So spill now young Alcaziar before this knight in front you become a stallion you can’t hardly imagine.”

His knowing verdict, only yet to be responded by a beaming smirk, urging its next word. “Too bad, brother. That’s just also the irony of chess you’re perceiving of.” Pausing to surround its eyes around the room, security agents flock to corner Jang and his men with guns. “You forgot the prankster bishop who hides in surprise behind the pawns.”  

“What will you do now, knight? The fences are already after you.”

Recognizing they are owned by filthy back up officials they have, he can only awe in sarcasm. Manically laughing like they were just joking around, gaping orbs following the surprise sight, mannish arms resting from his crouched knees. Cold Jang Taeyoung finally advents.

“Know what, dimwit?”

“What?”

“That for some time I actually thought of you as one. A younger brother I never had.”

Zilo was lying if it didn’t warm him for it obviously did as his once smirking face easily vanish just like that. Looking up to already standing older brother he never had as well. It’s too late.

Gazing to multiple guns pointing at him, he complains. “Eish… F*cking law makers.” Before he went back to look down Zilo. “I guess I misjudge you then.” Pulling out his revolver once again, he left one last word.

“Let’s play the game if given the chance, yeah? Who knows.”

And with a starting blow from the enemy’s agents, the imprudent chaos has begun. Together with his men, Jang knocks every underling that goes on his way. Series of bullets heard and wasted, lifeless bodies lying on the grime of floors, stinks of blood spread on endlessly from the dirty four walls. As all he could think of, is to chase the straightway escape of the young Alcaziar who has been escorted from the start.

But he was too late. They were already far for his reach. The youngster’s car freely drives from the buzzing path of sinners for cursing is the only thing that can pass his anger.

Before another gunshot was heard. For it was his stooping body covered with blood he saw. “We got him!” as a voice unfamiliar to him speaks out. The pain is bearable though like they intentionally miss to shot the most vital part of him as it didn’t take him long to know the reason why as another flocks of underling came rushing after, ready to take him down. He fights back. Even if his body isn’t cooperating this time.

How a simple stretch of his legs he flawlessly does, is lost. How hasty blocks became his wrecking bricks. And how his keen reflexes of dodges demote to novice. He hates it! He’s not usually a person who easily get strained with a mere shot. F*ck, he got the worst even!  

It seems like they implanted something from the bullet fired to him which lead him to be weak. Whatever it is, he’s f*cking screwed up! “Tss. These f*cking cowards.” His hell of grumbles the moment they were ask to stop their countless attacks. With his once perfect face busted and once well-built figure turns into qualmish leaf. They successfully take advantage of his current wimps indeed.  

Surely as he was fighting them alone, actually. How can he get help even when his men have their own fight meters afar from his? A much more number than he partakes.    

Pressing his gushing stomach while holding any possible thing that can give him strength which turns out to be edges of wooden recycling bins. He looks up to the scumbag that caused him then. Veeros Alcaziar, bending to face the aggrieved him. “Hey, young lad.” Its unabashed greeting. “How was the show, eh?” its next word as he can only grunt trying to grab its collar by the hand that was once holding the edge of the bins. Only for him to end up gripped lousily instead.

“W-where. Where did you bring Sung Eunyoung!”

Regaining a remaining strength, he has. He enraged. And the latter just confidently tapping his downgrade shoulder. “Don’t worry, young man. You’ll meet each other soon.” Its lunatic response as he begins to get drowsy. Medicine perhaps takes its effect.                                

“You know what you missed about the king, Lad?”

‘So he’s there all along.’ He thought.

Leaning its head towards his ear, the geezer whispered.

“It’s his manipulative intelligence.”

Then a Jang Taeyoung, finally passed out.

~

“Wake up. Jang Taeyoung, wake up!”

For there it is. The voice he had searched like years. Heard by his own lobes.