#Devoid of their personalities just so we can make them do dress up and act out our fantasies rather than actually tell a story 😭?

[solazu1]

I’ve seen so much shitty ship content in the marble hornets fandom since I’ve joined that I’m starting to get sick of shipping as a whole, ngl. I’m staring hard at the main contenders here, Jaylex, Brim, and Jam. Brilex is another ship I see frequently fucked up a lot too, but yea whatever. I’m not condemning people who get it wrong because I’m not the goddamn messiah of characterization either but there’s gotta be a line to be drawn, right? like with all the absurd vaguely uncensored abused x abuser content associated with jaylex, the uncomfortable brim content where every instance of hoody fucking up Tim's life on **PURPOSE** is ignored for the sake of a cuddle or for the sake of sexualization, THE HEAVY OVER-SEXUALIZATION OF BRILEX, and the fully fleshed out personalities of Tim and Jay being washed away and sacrificed for mischaracterized, stereotypical, romantic interactions that really isn’t something the character would ever do but rather something the author wants them to act out. <- honestly the last bit can be applied to all other ships too! And it isn’t my only gripe with Jam specifically but I feel like my specific criticism on it deserves another post that will probably never come haha.

[spectrechosts]

Date Night

This is one of my longer series, and is mostly porn without plot about a human girl being a subby blood donor to a vampire lesbian couple. It's not like, *devoid* of story, but a decent chunk of chapters are just fucking.

Full Series

Willow giggled as her two dates fawned over her.

She had been the center of attention all night, even though they were an actual couple and she was just some dork who replied to a personal ad she saw on the local occult forum.

FF4F - Vampires Seeking Human for Netflix and Chills

Vampire couple want to take you on a romantic night out before heading back to our place for… drinks ;)

$1000 + Any medical costs incurred, and we'll pay for your dinner as well!

The money was definitely nice, she couldn't deny it. $1000 was more than she would make in a week working, and it was certainly more than the going rate for selling blood. And this restaurant was fancy, she would never go someplace like this. She didn't even have clothes nice enough for a place like this, and she had told the vampires that, and they told her that they had already picked something for her to wear.

Which really tied in nicely to the actual reason she had answered the ad: She really fucking wanted to get dominated by a vampire. Two vampires was an insane act of decadence. And they were paying her to do it. It was a dream come true.

It felt a little embarrassing how much she wanted it, honestly. She barely knew these girls and she was more than ready to do anything they asked, they could drain her dry in the middle of the restaurant and she would thank them to her last breath.

She was feeling incredibly gay, to put it mildly.

For their part, Alice and Senna seemed extremely into her as well. If they were only playing along for her sake, she couldn't tell. And whether they were into her romantically or into her the way that a pair of wolves is into a deer they had cornered, that was…

Well, it didn't matter. She was having a nice night regardless.

A very nice night, if Alice's hand on her thigh was any indication.

"I think," Alice husked in her ear, fingers drifting teasingly close to the hem of her dress, "That we should take this back to our place. Don't you?"

"Don't be pushy. We promised her a romantic night out, and that's what she'll get." Said Senna, coolly.

"I can't help myself! She looks so cute in that dress, I just want to eat her up." Alice said, flashing a fanged smile as if the double meaning wasn't obvious.

"Alice. You're acting like a horny teenager, let the girl finish her meal."

"Fiiine. Sorry, Willow."

"It's cool." Squeaked Willow, who was getting wet just from knowing they wanted to bite her. "C-Can I ask though, what's so exciting about this for you two? I mean, I'm nothing special, and you can just buy blood-"

"Ugh." Alice said, rolling her eyes.

"You are special, first of all." Senna said, placing a finger to Willow's lips to silence her protestations. "Second, drinking blood out of a bag just isn't the same."

"Mhm. It's like eating gruel. Back when we started living openly among your kind, they even had us drinking pig's blood. Disgusting."

"So we want to feed properly, but it's hard to find people that suit our tastes. Right blood type, in good health, local, willing, cute, shares our interests…"

"I haven't gotten to really sink my teeth into anybody since the nineties." Alice whined. "It's awful."

"I-It sounds like you're looking for more than just a meal?" Said Willow, hopefully.

Senna smiled coyly. "Maybe. No reason to go through all this searching every time if we can find someone interested in a more… long-term engagement. But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"I could do this again!" Willow offered. "A-Anytime you want!"

Alice and Senna shared a look.

"We haven't even gotten to your end of the bargain, sweetheart." Alice chided.

"We could, uh-" Willow swallowed hard. "Get to it now. I-If you want."

"Only if it's what you want, cutie. This is your night." Senna said.

Alice grumbled, pulling Willow closer to her.

"Stop trying to talk her out of it, Sen. I'm hungry."

Willow felt very much like a prey animal in that moment, in the clutches of a beast that wanted nothing more than to tear open her throat and devour her.

"I-It's fine, really, it's why I'm here. The date is just a bonus." Willow said, and Alice relaxed a tiny bit, still holding her firmly but no longer digging her nails in like she was afraid someone might steal her away.

"See? She's some kinda blood pervert, it's cool." She said, and Willow groaned because she wasn't not some kind of blood pervert, but who just says that in public?

"Okay, but if you change your mind tell us. We won't get mad." Senna insisted.

"Really, I'm not going to."

"That's what the last girl said. Just keep it in mind."

"Oh man, that was funny." Alice said, as they paid and exited the restaurant. "She was like you, total vamp fetishist (I-I'm not-), and then she sees her own blood and freaks the fuck out, thinks she's gonna die. She threw a lamp at me and fainted in the hallway. Super apologetic the next day, but did not get a second date."

~

Alice had barely shepherded her into their apartment before she was nipping at her neck eagerly, not hard enough to draw blood yet, but enough to show her intent.

"You know," Senna said, "while 'netflix and chill' is a euphemism for fucking you're still supposed to at least pretend the pretense for taking them home was real."

"Don't wanna. Hungry."

"Ugh. Centuries to learn manners and you're still such a boor."

"I'm taking care of our guest." She said, and trailed kisses up to Willow's ear. "Tell us Willow," She purred, eyes locked on Senna still. "Do you want to watch a movie? Or do you want Senna to come help me make you feel good?"

Alice's hands were really wandering now, and making her stop was the furthest thing from Willow's mind. "P-Please, Senna…" She said, her face flushed and hot under her gaze.

"Oh, poor thing, we'll take care of you." Senna cooed, running her thumb over her cheek. "Alice you know I can't resist when you make them beg."

"I know, so just cut loose and enjoy her already. You deserve it."

Was it weird that Willow was getting turned on by them talking past her like this?

Weird or not, she was going to add more fuel to the fire.

"Please bite me, Senna, I need it." She begged, and Alice rewarded her by slipping her fingers past the band of her panties to idly stroke her clit. She whimpered and exposed her neck to the other girl.

Senna looked like she was in a trance, her pupils dilated and her fangs exposed. She leaned in and-

Blinked, shook her head.

"Wait- I know how I want her. Give me a second to get ready." She stammered, and disappeared down a hall. Willow whined, so close to what she wanted only to have it torn away at the last second.

"Relax, pet. She'll make it worth your while." Alice said, still lazily circling her clit.

"W-Will you bite me? Please?" Willow said, desperate.

"Hmmm. I want to. You know there's really nothing else like it- The warmth, the taste of fresh blood, rhythmically spurting into your mouth with your prey's heartbeat, feeling them squirm in your grasp, their life in your hands. It's intoxicating."

Willow shuddered and squeezed her thighs together.

"Buuuut, it'd be impolite for me to steal the first taste. Wouldn't it pet? Let's go see what she has planned for you."

Alice withdrew her hands and guided Willow into the room Senna had retreated into. Senna sat, naked, on the edge of their bed, applying lube to a strapon.

"Oh good, I was just about to call for you. Strip." Senna ordered.

Willow fumbled with the zipper on her back before Alice got it, yanking her dress down and opening the clasp of her bra for her. "T-Thanks" She stuttered, clumsily removing her underwear.

"My pleasure." Alice hummed, unabashedly eyefucking her.

"Come here. Now." Senna continued, her eyes a black void that Willow sank into, her legs carrying her with no input from her mind. Her head emptied, thoughts replaced with a fuzzy haze and-

"Hey! You said no hypnotizing people." Alice complained.

"Got carried away. You forgive me, don't you Willow?"

Willow snapped out of it in Senna's lap, the cool silicone of the strapon brushing against her lips.

"You don't have to hypnotize me, I'll do anything you ask." She said, grinding against its shaft.

"Well fuck, isn't she just perfect?" Alice said, embracing her from behind. "Our debauched little vampire thrall."

"Please, I-I need-"

"I know pet. Raise those hips up for me."

Willow raised up on her knees, and Senna aligned the tip of the strapon with her entrance. She made her wait for it, and Alice got to work kissing her neck and playing with her clit in the meantime. Willow whimpered, needy and sensitive.

"Good girl. Now down. Nice and slow, I want to savor every expression on your pretty face as I fill you up."

Willow sank onto the toy, her movements jerky and unsteady. She ached for more stimulation, but disobeying was unthinkable. It took all her willpower to keep a slow pace, feeling every inch of the strapon slip inside her.

"So pretty…" Senna murmured.

"Doing so well for us…" Added Alice.

A moan escaped Willow's lips as she finally reached the base of the toy and Senna rolled her hips to push the last little bit inside.

"Gooood girl." She cooed. "Do you want more?"

"Yeesssss"

"And what are you going to do to make us give it to you?"

"Please bite me, pleasepleaseplease-" Willow babbled.

Alice's fangs were already grazing her neck, and Senna took one of her hands and put her teeth to her wrist. She bit down first, and Willow inhaled sharply at the sting of her fangs. She withdrew them and placed her lips on the wound, suckling on it as blood pumped into her mouth.

Senna started thrusting in and out of Willow while she drank, and the conflicting sensations overwhelmed her. Pain throbbed in her wrist with every gulp that Senna took, and quiet moans escaped her lips every time she snapped her hips upwards. Senna kept her eyes locked on her through it all, and Willow watched them change as the bloodlust took over; looking at her hungrily, possessively. The polite vampire from earlier was gone, she was at the mercy of a monster now. Her fingers dug into her hip as she fucked her harder, faster-

And then Alice bit her.

If Senna's bite was painful, Alice's was agonizing. She bit down hard and didn't let go, leaving her fangs embedded in her neck and letting blood spurt out around them. Willow squealed, tormented by every miniscule movement that Alice made sending another jolt of pain shooting through her. She drank messily, blood overflowing past her lips as Willow's pounding heartbeat forced more and more out of her.

"-fucking wasting it when she tastes so good-" Senna growled, detaching from her wrist and applying pressure to the wound as she sat up to lick at the blood trailing down Willow's chest.

"-can't help it, you know jugular is messy-" Alice said, briefly unlatching before biting her again at the nape of her neck, and then again on her shoulder. She wasn't even aiming for a vein, she was just biting for the sake of sinking her teeth into warm meat while she could.

Willow couldn't focus on their bickering, she felt lightheaded, all the intense feelings bubbling to a hot point inside her. Alice wrapped an arm around her throat to cover her gushing wound, warm blood oozing between her fingers. She nibbled at her ear, whispering to her.

"Look at how nice Senna is treating you, drinking up all that blood you spilled."

Alice's voice sent shivers down her spine, and she looked down and watched Senna lick a rivulet of blood off of her nipple, swirling her tongue around the stiff peak before biting her gently, making her whimper.

"I think you should do something nice for her, don't you?"

Willow nodded, unable to speak. Her heart was racing, her breath came in shallow gasps, she could barely think.

"I think," Alice purred, "That she wants you to cum around her cock. Can you do that for her pet?"

That drew a shaky moan from Willow, and she wrapped her arms around Senna's head, grasping for something to keep her steady as she went weak in the knees.

"Be a good girl now. Cum for her, cum for us."

Willow squeaked as she went rigid, the pressure inside her releasing as she shuddered and came all over Senna's strap. Both of the vampires cooed praise as she rode out the intense orgasm, shaking and gasping as they held her.

Her head was fuzzy as she came down, her heart was still racing, her breathing even shallower, she felt-

"Dizzy, f-feel weird, I-I…"

Senna's eyes cleared in an instant and filled with concern.

"Oh shit, hold onto her she's gonna-"

~

Willow awoke tucked into the bed, her bites neatly dressed with gauze. She sat up, confused-

"Hey. Don't get up too fast. How do you feel?" Senna said, gently pushing her back down. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, and saw Alice sleeping beside her, blindly grasping for her after being disturbed by her sudden movement.

"Um. Kinda woozy? I don't- I don't remember what-"

"You passed out, cutie. Our fault, we got carried away and drank too much."

"Oh." Willow said, embarrassed. "S-Sorry."

"Don't be, pet. You were amazing."

"O-Oh. Thanks." She felt… weirdly proud of being a good meal. "What, um, what time is it?"

"Ten-ish."

"Fuck, I have work-" She said, and started to get up again.

"Nuh-uh. Call in sick, you need to rest."

"I-I can't-"

"I wasn't asking." Senna said, fishing around in her purse for a wad of bills that she counted out and handed to Willow. "Here. What we agreed, plus extra to make up for you missing work."

Willow's eyes went wide, this was 2,500 fucking dollars.

"I-I can't take this-"

"You can and you will, pretty thing. Now call in sick so we can all go to bed, okay?" Senna said, cupping her cheek tenderly.

God, she really didn't need to hypnotize her to make her do anything she asked.

"U-Um, yeah, okay."

"Good girl." Senna said, and gave her a kiss.

[clarafordahwin]

I definitely picked up on parallel vibes between Hamilton fandom and OFMD fandom. But it is interesting to dissect the common thread of the two creative works, which is the desire to expand a popular myth to people traditionally excluded by it.

Now, there are more dangerous implications to doing this with the mythology of the Founding Fathers, given how much influence that narrative continues to hold in contemporary politics. And slavery was essential to their ability and desire to hold political power, so it is inseparable.

OFMD does not attempt to take itself seriously like Hamilton does. With next-to-no credence given to historical accuracy, the erasure of Stede Bonnet's slaves mainly obfuscates his wealth, letting the viewer project the fantasy of "being rich enough to buy a fancy ship and hire a crew" without having to consider the implications of how one becomes that wealthy.

Of course, this points to the big problem that when the creators/producers of this show DID research stede bonnet, they were not substantially turned off by his slave ownership. At that point, they could have shifted their narrative, made up their own character names, etc, but they didn't. I think this points to the larger issue of insensitivity and the brushing aside of slavery as just a relic of history that we can't really blame anyone for.

What I'm personally curious about is how so many popular tropes and genres are rooted in politically fraught periods, yet we often "depoliticize" them (make them normal and palatable to the average white American viewer). I think a lot about Regency/Victorian fiction, and the way that romance novels in these settings just get churned out and mass consumed. It's such a romanticized error! The dresses! The dances! So obviously these are focused around upper class British people (who are acquiring their wealth from colonialism).

So do we make these more inclusive ahistorically so that more people can be in on the fun? Or do we strip these stories of the frivolity and fun and turn them into serious political disections? The former is more popular right now. It's easier to sell. And it pisses off people who like the fantasy because it's white and heteronormative, which in turn makes other people feel like it's inherently a good thing to do.

And idk! No individual piece of media (looking at you ofmd!) is above critique, and it gets really tiresome when fans act like it is, but from a genre standpoint it does feel like an interesting conundrum. It's not like placing silly lighthearted fiction in a contemporary context makes it apolitical! It is impossible to make art completely devoid of ideological and political connotations, but it does beg the question of what it means for art that isn't striving toward political ends.

[puerifungorum]

silly vampire movie concept with my ocs <3

(to clarify. what i mean is that i am jettisoning all the tragic backstories (we do not have the time or budget for those. they can be vaguely implied.) and trashing all my worldbuilding and lore. this is based on vibes and tropes and does not and should not make sense. i'm not assigning characters roles based on translations of what they've actually got going on, i'm assigning characters roles based on what would be fun. we're using as lore what i vaguely assume old-timey vampire movies to have as their lore.)

anyway. setting! this should be vaguely 1800s or vaguely 1930s with perhaps 1950s 1960s 1970s sensibilities? or all at once. but no modern technology! this is the idea of a campy vampire movie as it exists in my head (have not watched many vampire movies) (have watched dracula 1931) (have looked at still photos of other vampire movies). the setting is vaguely eastern european. if parts of it are not in eastern europe they can be in england. various characters can be in flowy white dresses.

you should imagine this in black and white.

Alianora is a vampire hunter! (not an angel in this.) She's very noble and sincere and brave and all that. At like, the very start of the movie or something, her dear friend Anselm dies due to a vampire’s predations! She’s mourning him from then on, but, like, not visibly in a hysterical grief way, in a solemn stoic way. 

If it’s Scarlet who kills him, Alianora can kill Scarlet right after and that’s my explanation as to what Scarlet’s doing in this. get staked idiot.

it might not make sense for scarlet to be the one to kill him based on the idea of like. vampires dying if you kill their sire. whatever i don't care moving on

So Alianora goes on. Vampire-hunting and whatnot. There’s a new vampire she’s hunting, who will turn out to live in a spooky castle! I’m going to say it’s Vianna for now. Helpful local maiden Judith is helpful and framed narratively as the love interest. There’s subtext that Alianora is interested in her as a way of displacing her grief over Anselm dying - trying to replace him with another emotional attachment/bond, attracted to qualities Judith shares with Anselm (personality-wise. They don’t look much alike).

initially it should not be clear whether Vianna is a vampire or just like. a weirdo

Shock and horror! Anselm has joined the legions of the undead! Will Alianora find the fortitude to free him of his curse and save his soul by killing him? Or will she succumb to the awful lure of the vampire herself?

Anselm btw is filled with resentment toward her for letting him die. because what is Anselm if not animated by wrath. He wants to turn her into a vampire as well (she has to stay with him as recompense for his own death) and if she refuses or hesitates he will go into a rage and try to kill her. (he's also mad at her for the romance with judith. he's barely even cold in his grave!! how little is he worth that he can be replaced so quickly! die!!!!!!)

At some point - either when she first finds out he’s become a vampire or right before she slays him - she does catch him waking up from his coffin.

it should not be clear if there's anything romantic going on between them before he dies. after he dies they're definitely acting romantically, but they should only refer to each other pre-death as "dear friend" and similar things - the romantic bit should be ambiguous whether it's based on an actual relationship or typical vampire seduction tactics. they should never kiss during the whole movie. they do get to almost kiss. it has to be weirdly charged when she's trying to kill him

(symbolically like her desire for him can be that he's the manifestation of her guilt and grief and unfulfilled love, but he's only a warped version devoid of the actual person she's missing - etc etc you know the drill. vampires are fun)

Judith meanwhile has her own gay little plotline going on with Vianna. 

It’s a love triangle! Will she choose the dashing vampire hunter who increasingly seems to only be using her as a replacement for a lost love, or the eerie and charismatic vampire who offers her immortality and a share in the Evil Plan (world domination à la Dracula)???

she's initially interested in Alianora because she's tragic and haunted. after some point Judith does realize that maybe "being sad about someone else" isn't really what she wants in a romantic partner. hm. (this bit should be subtextual)

Judith and Vianna also don't ever kiss. sorry Judith. they do get in some lust-filled gazes and they do get to lingeringly touch hands and Judith does get to be sexily menaced.

how are Anselm and Vianna connected? haven't figured that out. anyway

At the end of the movie Alianora kills Anselm and either she kills Vianna with Judith’s help or Judith kills Vianna. And then they have an obligatory romantic moment. (they are allowed to kiss.) This is what tvtropes.org calls an esoteric happy ending i think

i guess the ending could be like "oh nora's vanquished her personal demons of guilt and grief and righted her failing by saving her new love interest... judith's rejecting the lure of selfishness at the cost of other people...." but it should be done in a way where it doesn't FEEL like that's the takeaway. oh ok the leads are now in an unhappy romantic relationship where they're both pining for other people and had to kill the person they actually wanted. what was the point of this, you should come away asking.

more pictures :)

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (1/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Mature / Explicit (Lemon) 18+ Readers ONLY

Word Count: 3931

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link 

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy... all words that described Regulus Black's grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Should be maybe 2-3 chapters. It’s a mini series! I’ve never even thought to write Regulus content so I hope this is good! I enjoyed writing it. I want him to go from cold pureblood quiet boy to a more “loving” person. I hope that translates in the next few chapters.

Enjoy

"(Y/n) Raynott will be your bride," Walburga says matter-a-factly. Having been used to his parents making decisions for him his entire life, Regulus doesn't argue with the announcement. The indifference he wears well masks the annoyance he feels.

"We will arrange for the ceremony to take place soon."

His eyes dart up to his mother, "I have not met miss Raynott."

Walburga waves her hand dismissively, "dear, that is not  necessary  for a wedding."

It sort of is , he thinks to himself. He doesn't dare vocalize his displeasure. Orion looks between the two, too disinterested in the whole affair to give his opinion. Hell, he probably had something to do with the match.

"You'll have plenty of time to acquaint yourself with your wife when you are married."

Regulus looks towards the parlor window. The sky is grey, with storms passing over since the morning. A perfect reflection of his mood.

***

Mother fusses over my dress. "You need to look presentable. The Black family is respectable; they want a proper young woman,  who has been raised as you have , to be the perfect wife for their son."

The sudden betrothal has me in a state of shock. I hadn't thought my parents would do this without my permission... without telling me! 

"We will solidify the engagement tonight and choose the date." Mother continues to prattle on. "Probably in the next months. How exciting, isn't it (y/n)?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Lies.

***

Regulus straightens his shirt collar in his bedroom mirror. Grey eyes stare back at him, devoid of emotion. 

It'll be fine.

"Regulus!" His mother's shrill voice echoes through the house, "come down this instant! The Raynott's will be here soon."

Regulus takes another look at himself in the mirror before making his way down to stand by his parents. His mother nitpicks his person for a minute before she restrains herself. Not pleased with him completely but satisfied enough to let it go for now.

A knock sounds on the door, causing Kreacher to make a mad dash to the door to greet the guests. The house-elf leads the family of three towards them.

The first glimpse of the woman he'll be tethered to… He could admit she was pretty. She probably was very pretty. All he could focus on is the anxious tightness of her lips.

***

Dinner is a quiet affair. I don't talk, not to Regulus, or my parents, or the couple who will soon be my in-laws. I don't know if I could talk if I tried.

Walburga and Orion look pleased. Probably enthralled to have picked out such a meek and obedient wife for their son.

Their son , who has stolen glances at me the entire dinner but hasn't let a word fall from his lips.  His rather shapely lips.

He was handsome; I could acknowledge that. Not that it helped in the situation I've found myself in. No, his good looks  did not  make me happy to be stuck with him.

"Have we thought about potential dates?" Orion asks, taking a sip of his wine.

Father looks at mother, "Possibly in the next few months--" Mother is interrupted by Mistress Black, who makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat.

"Nonsense. Next Tuesday will do just fine."

I nearly choke on my wine.  Next Tuesday?

"That could work as well," Father looks at me, "how does that sound, Sweetheart." I want to roll my eyes. How dare he call me some loving pet name as he was marrying me off.

"That-- It is fine." I look up at Regulus. Unreadable as ever.

"What do you think, Regulus?" Mistress Black turns her attention to her son.

Regulus glances my way, blinking slowly, "the sooner, the better."

**

Days fly by, finally arriving at the day he was to be married.

Married.

It didn't sound quite like it should be a word that describes him. Regulus never assumed his parents would find him a match at his age. Nearly twenty now, his parents had suddenly decided he had his fair share of bachelorhood. 

Orion had taken him to his first brothel at the age of seventeen, intentions being his son would learn the art of procreation early on and get any foolish actions out of the way. Some of his best and worst moments had been in his father's favorite whorehouse. 

Orion clearly believed his education in whoring should be satisfactory by now. The bloodline was to be his mission next.

'Mission' was harsh. He didn't want his wife to feel like the women he had slept with were in preparation for this match. He wasn't the perfect man, he could admit that, but the last thing he wanted to do was make this girl believe she was being used for his pleasure and creating the next heir.

There was truth in her being the vessel for his line, but he hoped she could see he did not intend on treating her like such. Regulus did not know (y/n), doubted he could ever love her,  even with time , but she was to be his wife. The next Mistress Black. She should be happy. If they could not share mutual happiness like a couple ought to, he would try to make her happy in  different  ways.

Merlin knew his presence alone would not make her happy. Regulus was a cold man; he didn't share sweet moments or loving smiles. He would never promise to kiss her goodnight or hold her hand in public. It just wasn't who he was. But he could try not to make her completely miserable. And he hoped that would be enough for (y/n). 

It would have to be enough.

***

I feel numb as I stand in front of the long mirror in the white dress I didn't want. It wasn't ugly; I just wasn't the one to choose it. Which fits perfectly with the day's mood. Wearing the dress I didn't pick to marry the man I didn't pick.

Poetry.

I sigh loudly as mother walks into the room. She squawks about how beautiful I look in the dress  she picked.

"Thank you," my voice is so quiet I can barely hear myself.

"Where is that veil..." mother searches around my packed things for the long organza veil. Finally, she locates it. 

"Come sit so I can place it in your hair. Hurry now. We're nearly late." I obey, sitting down on my bed so she can fuss with the damn veil.

"Perfect. Let's scurry now. It would be very embarrassing for me if we were late for your wedding."

Would it be mother? 

***

"Who is giving this woman to be married to this man?" The older wizard officiating looks to my father.

"Her mother and I do." Regulus doesn't show a pinch of emotion; his face as inscrutable as ever. 

When I had dreamed about this moment, I had imagined the man who was to be my husband would have shed a tear or at least smiled at me as I walked down the aisle... Regulus regards me like I'm a chore as he takes my hand from my father.

"The ceremony of pureblood marriage in which you come to be united in values is one of the first and oldest ceremonies of our kind. Marriage is a gift in that we give ourselves totally to one another. Marriage is a gift given to comfort the sorrows of life and to magnify life's joys." The wizard continues spewing lies of a happy marriage to come. 

"Pureblood marriage is that of traditions, where two families come together to strengthen our convictions. The ultimate union, a blending of blood." I grimace, happy the veil hid my face well. It gave me no joy to think of a  blending of blood  between Regulus and me.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," the wizard turns towards him, "Do you take this witch as your wife? Do you promise to provide for, protect her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." He says the words with such ease. The wizard turns to me, reciting the words once again.

I pause. Maybe longer than what is appropriate, surely an embarrassing pause compared to Regulus's swift one. His grey eyes stare into mine. He doesn't look angry or alarmed that I've taken nearly half a century to reply. 

"I do." The words slip from my lips. I stare back through the wall of organza between us. 

"Master Black, you may kiss your bride." 

Surprisingly, Regulus hesitates for a moment before he lifts the veil from my face. The kiss is nothing more than a quick brush of lips. His hand wraps around my wrist as he pulls away. Without appearing to drag me, he pulls us through the dining room doors away from the crowd.

Letting go of my wrist, Regulus sits down on one of the velvet couches of the parlor. From a decorative box, he plucks a cigarette, lighting it without a word to me. The drag of the cigarette is long, the smoke billowing from his lips, expanding throughout the room. 

I have half a mind to tell him to extinguish the cigarette at once. Instead, I walk to the other side of the room and sit on a different couch.

The feeling of his eyes on my person can't be ignored, but I cannot make myself meet his eye. I want to wallow away in my misery, if only for a moment. Long stretches of misery are what I expect most of all from this union.

"Come," he stands from the couch, beckoning me like a lap dog towards his awaiting arm. I frown but obey, seeing no other option at the moment. He'll be surprised when he tries this again when I'm not expected to be with him. 

Regulus pulls out something from his dress robes pocket. Taking my left hand in his, Regulus slides a purple jewel on my finger.

"What--?"

"A wedding present. From me."

I look down at the large jewel. It looks expensive.  Hell , it probably is expensive. It's a massive ring, for Merlin's sake.

I remember myself quickly, "thank you."

Regulus nods. "They'll be waiting."

***

Regulus sits on the bed, watching as I pace around, searching for my clothing and personal items. Where the hell did all of my stuff go?

I huff, hating that I must ask Regulus, "Where are my things?" 

"They have been appropriately placed in our room."

"Yes, but  appropriately placed where in the room ?"

Regulus looks at me for a moment. His eyes are cold as he stands, walking towards a door. I follow close behind, finding my clothing has all been hung within the large closet. He glances at me before walking away.

I exhale, beginning to rifle around my side of the expansive closet. I pick a nightdress from the large collection, intending to remove this ridiculous dress...

Damn it!

The only buttons I can successfully reach on the back of the bodice are the top two. There's at least a dozen down the back, and the last thing I want to do is ask for Regulus's help… but if I don't, I'll be trapped in this damned dress for the rest of eternity.

With nightgown in hand, I shyly walk back out into the bedroom. Regulus now stands near the lit fireplace, staring into the flames. He's still dressed in his wedding robes.

"Regulus," I say quietly. He turns towards my voice. The light from the flames flutters against his dark curls.

"Yes?"

My face scrunches up. I hate to do this. "Can you help me? With the buttons, that is?" I turn my back towards him, waiting.

His feet make the lightest of noise against the wooden floor as he approaches me. "You'll need to move your hair." Slender fingers lightly touch my neck as he gathers my hair. I oblige, moving my hair out of the way as his nimble fingers loosen me from this trap of a dress.

When his task is complete, he doesn't move away. Instead, Regulus stays put, his breath fanning gently over my naked shoulders.

He stinks of cigarettes, and I wonder if he had somehow snuck another when I was occupied in the closet.

"Did you smoke?"

He's quiet for a moment before chuckling softly. "I did." 

I would have maybe pestered him about the habit, but I'm so caught off guard by his laughter. 

"Do you not like that?" He whispers in my ear. 

Turning around does nothing for my flustered state as I end up nearly nose to nose with Regulus. He doesn't move, his eyes never leaving mine.

Finally, I find my words, "no."

"No?"

"No, I do not like that you smoke."

He studies me, eyes flickering across my face. I find myself wanting to know what he's thinking. His face betrays nothing.

I don't know what to do with this, his body so close, eyes glued to my face. It unnerves me the way he hasn't said a thing back.

"Regulus..." his name comes out as barely a whisper.

Suddenly, Regulus is leaning in closer. There's no time to react before he's kissing me tenderly. It's not much more than the kiss we shared in obligation earlier, but now his fingers caress my neck and jaw. I get lost in the kiss, my body unconsciously pressing in closer to his. 

"Regulus--" I sigh as he presses kisses down my throat, his fingers beginning to move my sleeves off of my shoulders.

His nose brushes against mine before he mutters a low, "come." 

The nightdress in my hand drops to the floor, forgotten as my body seems to move by its own volition. Willingly letting him situate me on the bed has me in perfect shock. Only a few soft touches and gentle kisses have me so pliant under his touch.

"Do you want this?" he asks curiously, moving ever so slightly away from me.

I pause, unsure. I'm certainly attracted to him. I would be a fool to deny that. And... well, there's the pressure from this sort of relationship to complete the bond of marriage. In pureblood marriages, an extra spell was placed upon the couple specifically to encourage coupling. It was meant to bring a couple together, an artificial sort of attraction. The bond only strengthened with intimacy. Most couples liked to complete the initial bond on their wedding night because it gave a stable foundation for something  like love  to blossom from arranged marriages.

I stare up into his cold eyes, "yes."

"You're sure?" 

I nod. Deep down, a girlish fantasy still burns within me. That this artificial attraction that was placed upon us will grow into something other than comfortable civility.  I wanted Regulus to love me . I want to love him back in turn. I didn't wish to live in civility with children and an overbearing mother-in-law. I wanted romantic, passionate love. I wanted his glacial eyes to thaw. Wanted those eyes to be filled with warmth  specifically for me.

Regulus kisses my neck again, his fingers moving down the front of my dress.

"Can I?" His eyes flit up to mine. Fingers move across the neckline of my dress. 

I feel dizzy as I nod. Regulus gently pulls me up to a sitting position, moving the dress up and off my body. I want to cover myself up as he inspects my naked body.

"Don't cover yourself," his tone is alarmingly smooth. He seems to notice the way my eyes widen at his words. He rephrases himself, "please do not cover yourself."

"Are you going to get undressed?" I ask, trying to figure out where to put my arms.

A small smile jumps on his lips. He almost looks amused. I squirm as he begins to loosen the silk scarf from his neck. 

Slowly, he strips out of the rest of his clothing. Before I can get a good look at his physique, he's moved back onto the bed.

"Have you done this before?" He leans down, whispering into my ear.

My mouth opens and closes slowly before I shake my head. No, I had not. But, what was he expecting? Of course, I hadn't. No one like us--  like me  would even dream of this before this specific moment. Like Mother had said,  I was raised for this life. 

He stares down at me for an unnervingly long beat. Much too long for my liking before leaning in to kiss me. The kiss is deeper this time and full of something  more  than the last two we had shared. Courage comes over me, and I tangle my fingers in his curly hair. A low moan escapes his lips as he moves to press open-mouthed kisses to my neck.

His hand moves down my body, stopping to cup my breast. My fingers grip his shoulders as I press up against his palm.

Pupils blown wide, Regulus pulls away to situate between my legs. His long delicate fingers run across my skin, spreading my legs further.

Trying to breathe normally and push the sudden embarrassment that comes over, I focus on his face, ignoring the light brush of his fingers as they move up my inner thigh.

"It's going to hurt a little bit." His thumb moves slowly against my clit, as he watches my face with interest.

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting you ready for me." He gives me a small smile.

I frown, turning my face away from him again.

"Don't be that way," he gently moves my face back towards him, "there's no need to be embarrassed with me."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Admitting this shouldn't make me so... self-conscious.

He looks amused, "I'll keep that in mind."

Regulus presses my knees closer to my chest. Maintaining eye contact, he presses kisses down my abdomen to my thighs. 

"Relax, (y/n)."

"Regulus--" I squirm as Regulus's thumb moves from my clit, dipping into my sex. 

"Relax." Regulus replaces his thumb with his finger, slowly easing it in to his knuckle. 

He watches my face as he moves his finger gently, "how does that feel?"

"Odd."

I catch his smile before it disappears from his face.

"Not exactly what I wanted you to say" He presses a kiss to my clit before lightly sucking. 

"Oh!" My fingers find his hair again. I hadn't expected this to feel good...  for me , at least.

A second finger joins the first as Regulus continues to please me with his mouth. 

It feels like electricity flowing through my veins. Small jolts pulse through my nerves with each swipe of his tongue or movement of his thumb. I want to close my legs, the feeling becoming too much too quickly. 

"No," he moves my thigh back towards the comforter.

"But--"

"No." Regulus continues the dance of his tongue against my sensitive clit, his grey eyes locking with mine as I writhed under the hypnotic movement of his mouth on me.

The pleasure crashes over me in waves. My fingers dig into his hair, pushing his mouth closer. My fingers relax as the aftershocks take over. I feel like I'm melting into the bed, satisfied and pulsing with dull electricity.

Regulus sits up, leaning over my body. His right-hand plants down by my head, his left moving my leg up towards his waist.

"Are you ready?" 

Suddenly, I'm shy again. I nod.

"I need you to tell me you are ready, (y/n)." His hand smoothes over my upper thigh as he waits for me to give consent.

"Yes, I am ready."

Regulus nods, hand pumping his cock slowly, "I'll be gentle, as gentle as possible." 

I stare up at Regulus, watching him focus as he brushes the head of his cock against my slit before pressing in slowly.

"Relax. The pain will subside in a moment. Relax." His voice is surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushes the sun under my eye, moving down my cheek. 

As he continues to press into me, I try to do as he asks. 

Regulus bottoms out, his eyes staying glued to mine. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something in those grey eyes. 

I open my lips to say something, but the words don't come. His eyes flicker to my lips. Slowly, he leans down, kissing me tenderly. 

"You can touch me if you want," he whispers. His nose brushes against mine as his hips begin to move.

"I--" I inhale shakily as he presses forwards, "Where?"

"Anywhere you want to. I don't mind." He continues to watch my face as I reach for his hair.

"Do you actually like this?" I laugh, raking my fingers through his curls. 

He huffs out his own version of a chuckle before replying, "I do."

"Oh--" I was expecting him to tell me I was giving him a headache with all the hairpulling. 

He continues the slow pace of his hips rocking against mine, watching my face.

"What are you looking at?" I ask quietly.

"You." 

I squirm uncomfortably. "Well... don't?"

Regulus stops, "don't look at you when we're doing this?"

"You're making me self-conscious!" 

He rolls his eyes, " I'm inside of you.  There's no room to be self-conscious."

"That..." I frown, "does not make me feel any less self-conscious."

I wiggle, sitting up slightly on my forearms. I look down where he's buried deep inside of me.

Regulus sighs, "There's no reason to feel self-conscious with me."

"But--"

"No." Regulus stops me from rambling on, "no more talking unless you want me to stop or you want something specific from me. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Good," Regulus looks like he's collecting his thoughts before he restarts his pace. "Touch yourself."

"What?" 

"Touch yourself," he presses his lips against mine, "touch your clit."

Hesitantly, I move my hand between our bodies.

"Just like that. Trust me."

My fingers press against my sensitive clit. I shudder beneath him, feeling overwhelmed by the push and pull of his cock as I press deeper against the nerves.

I look up at him, "Will you kiss me again?"

Regulus doesn't give me an answer, leaning in to kiss me hungrily as he chases his release.

Without warning, he moves my hand out of the way, replacing it with his own, more skilled digits. 

"Cum for me," the snap of his hips quickens as his fingers move rapidly. My world shatters as I cum for the second time tonight.

"Fuck." He buries his face in my neck as he releases.

I feel lightheaded as he rolls away from me. Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. His hair's splayed across the pillow, jaw relaxed as he catches his breath. I study his side profile with interest.

The question sits at the tip of my tongue. What happens next? He hasn't tried to... cast anything, a charm to end the chances of a pregnancy. Unless this was his plan?

"What... what about the possibility of a baby?"

"Don't worry about it."

"But there's a possibility, or maybe you wanted--"

"No," with a flick of his wrist, Regulus stops any chance of that.

I turn my body towards him, "are you tired?"

Regulus glances over, "Yes. I am."

***

He holds her as she falls asleep. It's nice, he supposes.

But dangerous.

It couldn't hurt to hold her when she's sleeping. He just can't let her catch him holding her when she wakes up.

She can't get the wrong idea about their relationship.

[dearest-kibble]

Can I request headcanons for yandere Bakugou, Todoroki and Deku where they have been leaving their darlings voicemails proclaiming their love and whatnot and seeing as they're not reacting badly to it, their darling must be happy. Turns out they haven't heard any of it because they don't know how to access their voicemail

Oh gosh oh gosh I love this concept??? Thank you for requesting! 

Okay so,,, these get a little unhinged real quick because i am in a mood so!

Tw: Dacryphilia, degradation, stalking, yandere relationships, unhealthy relationships,  (Maybe?? just in case,,,) dumbification, lots of cussing (Thanks katsuki.) They’re all pretty abusive,,, Midoriya’s gets a little n/sfw-ish? Like just motions of moans but,, to be safe also panty stealing. I love these boys so much so i’ll make them terrible,,, as a treat.

All of these characters are third years!

So here now, we have a temperamental one.

And no, it’s not Katsuki.

It’s Shoto.

Half cold, half hot.

He’s easy to anger. If you say the wrong thing, well you’re in for it.

But, he likes you.

You’re always smiling at him.

He knows that you smile at others but there has to be something to smiling at him, right?

People tell him he’s handsome, they tell him he looks good. Women ask for his number.

So you smile at him because you like him.

So he’ll dote on you a little.

He has your number. He paid someone for it.

And he’s been leaving you just about the nicest things he could.

He loves talking to you, even if he doesn’t quite feel comfortable talking to you face to face.

And he just loves telling you how sweet you look for him. How cute your voice sounds and how he just loves you.

“I’ll make sure to marry you one day. You’ll have anything you want.”

“You looked so sweet in that outfit today, once we’re married, I’ll get you something like it. Would you like that? I’ll make sure you have the nicest clothing for when you walk down the isle, goodbye.”

“Your voice is stuck in my head, I can’t wait until I can hear your voice all day in our house together. Goodbye, I can’t wait to see you.”

“When we have a child, you’ll be a wonderful parent. I love you, goodbye.”

“You’ll marry me, right? Goodbye darling, say yes.”

And well, Shoto wasn’t being told to stop, but you weren’t talking to him.

At all.

And so, he tries to ask you about it after class, in the dorms when you two are in the common room.

Luckily for Shoto, you’re the only one there.

You send him a quick smile as you see him sitting in the corner, before you return to stretching.

It makes his heart stop - just for a few seconds - before hastily standing up and walking towards you.  

“Why haven’t you said yes?” He’s got that intense sound in his voice, like it’s as important as finding a villain.

“Yes to what?” You’re still stretching as you look up into his eyes.

It’s clear to him that you don’t have a clue. And really, that shouldn’t make him angry. It’s irrational to think that you’ve been deliberately ignoring him. But who doesn’t check their voicemail?

“The messages I’ve left you, why haven’t you responded to any of them, don’t you love me?” Shoto feels as calm as ever.

You’ve stopped stretching. Expression blank as you attempt to process whatever is going through your head.

“Of course I love you!” And your smile is back. Shoto nods, of course you love him, he can give you whatever you nee- “You’re one of my friends!”

Oh.

“Oh.” Ice begins to melt beneath his flesh

“I don’t know what messages you’re talking about though, did you ask Sero for my number? Class notes, right?”

You can’t not know how to check your voicemail. No one is that stupid.

“The messages I left you. You must’ve checked them.”

“I’m uhh..” You laugh a little. Normally it’d make him blush. “I don’t know how to check them. Sorry Todo...”

“You know exactly what I am talking about.” The look you give him is nothing but confused.

“I... don’t, could you explain it to me?”

“You wouldn't need this explanation if you just talked to me.”

“Sorry Todoroki, I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” You’re a good actor, because there's no way you didn’t know he wanted to talk to you, to marry you.

“I’ll show you.” He grabs you hand and yank you off the ground. “Give me your phone.”

“Wha-” You shiver.

“Your phone. Give it to me.” You hand it over without hesitation. “Good.”

It doesn’t take long for him to find the messages he left. 

“How do you know my password?” He ignores your question.

He opens the most recent message he left. Just this morning.

“Good morning. I want you to know, that our marriage won’t be a quirk marriage. I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the dress i have picked out, I love you. Goodbye.” 

“Todo-” 

“Shoto. I’m going to be your husband.” 

“I- give me some time to process-”

“You have had plenty of time to process. So you must’ve been ignoring me.”

“I haven’t!” It’s adorable how desperately you try to lie. You’re quite good at it. 

“Be quiet.” His voice is devoid of emotion. “You can’t go around ignoring your future husband like that. Now we’re going to have a nice, long chat about this in my room.

“But Todoro-”

“You will call me Shoto.” He sends a flare of ice up your arm.

“Shoto! You’re name is Shoto and I-” Your free hand scratches desperately at the ice. 

“Desperately trying to get me to remove the ice.” He gives you a cold smile. “Once you really learn your lesson, that won’t happen again. Got it?”

You nod. Tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t be crying if you didn’t ignore me.” He pets your hair. “Now, I’m more than a friend to you, right love?”

“Of course Shoto! I love you more tha-”

“Then smile like you do.” You look like you’re helpless with those tears in your eyes though. 

You try, you really do but this is where your acting prowess stops. It’s not a cute, sweet thing like normal. No, it’s ugly and contorted.

“Try again.” Practice makes perfect. “That isn’t what I asked for.”

You wipe your tears with your free hand. He should’ve frozen them both. You’d have to learn to rely on Shoto sooner or later. You take a deep breathe and fix your face into that adorable little smile you gave Shoto.

“Was that so hard?” He brings a chilled hand to your face to wipe away a tear that had gotten away from you. “Come, we’ll talk in my room. Once your arm melts, we’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson.” 

Katsuki only has your number for study sessions, he swears.

Your friends don’t believe it no matter how loud he yells.

Probably for good reason.

You’re not doing nearly as poor as Kirishima in terms of grades, and you weren’t a bad note taker either. So the fact that Bakugou still invited you to study and the fact that he seemed a little extra harsh on you?

Your friends find it a little strange.

But Bakugou also calls Kirashima “Shitty Hair” so it’s not really out of character for him to tell you how much of a dumbs you are for getting from point A to B in a different way than normal. 

Hell, Bakugou does it the way too.

He tells you it’s because you’re “A shitty extra who’s just trying to be better than me!”

Which, to be fair, checks out with how he treats the rest of the class.

So he’s fine.

Your friends are just a little paranoid that’s all.

And he can understand that. After all, who wouldn’t want to protect you?

He even leaves you little messages. He thinks they speak for themself.

“You got bruised today when you were trying that shitty new move of yours. Be more god-damn carful next time!”

“Hey. Why aren’t you at our study sessions? Shitty Hair isn’t as stupid as you and he actually understands the material. I’m stuck here for another damn hour if you don’t- Oi! Pick up the fucking phone you shit head!”

“Fuck, I went a little far with the last message. I saw your new cut. Did you get it from a shitty piece of paper? You’re a fucked up excuse for a hero if you got beat by a piece of paper. Don’t worry doll, once I’m with you, I’ll kiss it all better.”

He leaves countless messages a day. 

You haven’t even thought about them he bets.

Your brain might as well be a cows, you’re so fucking stupid. 

“Oi! Cow brain! Talk to me.” He doesn’t dare drag you over. You’re still delicate even if you have the mental capacity of a shrew.

“One second Bakugou, I’m going to talk to Mr. Aizawa about mastering my quirk.”

You haven’t even figured out how to master your quirk? So fucking useless. But he waits for about fifteen minutes outside the door. 

“We need to have a study session.”

“Why? I’m doing pretty well, aren’t I?”

“Not with that stupid burn mark you got from sparring with the laser extra!”

“Aoyama?”

“Fuckin Aoyama.” Little blond bitch is trying to hurt you. 

“I’m fine Bakugou, i’m going to be a hero I should get used to a few cuts and burns, with the villain climate,”

“The fucks a villain climate?” You don’t even know that climate is used for weather. You really are a stupid pig. Someone needs to save your bacon, huh?

“The way villains are at the-” Damn your eyes look like a deers’

“I know what a villain climate is!”

“So, you pulled me aside to study, right?”

“At least you remember that.” Any smart person would’ve figured out that was a lie though. “But you’re a fucking idiot for thinking that was the case. You’ve been getting my notes, you know how fuckin worried I am about you getting hurt.”

“You worry about me getting hurt?” Your mind really did move like molasses. 

“Pretty fuckin slow on the uptake there sweetheart.” 

“You’ve been sending me messages?” Oh fuck. You’re even dumber than a cow. 

“Are you completely braindead? I’ve been calling you a dumbass for months,” 

“I don’t know how to open my voicemail, not my fault technology is confusing baku-”

“No one is that fucking dumb!” 

“Bakugou, you’re yelling.”

“No Shit?! I wouldn’t need to be if you actually understood anything that I’m telling you! It’s not that fucking hard to understand you just open your damn phone, and click on those stupid ass red icons on the phone app.” If you weren’t so delicate and in need of keeping safe, he’d punch you.

“Oh uhh- Bakugou? Did you mean to play these?”

“Fuck no I didn't.” Maybe he’s a little obvious. But not so obvious that you’d pick up on it.

“I uhh really think I love you? Maybe it’s cause you're such a fucking dumbs that I can’t stand that you get hurt. It’s painful to see. Shit. I hate that I love you. Just die already.” Katsuki in the phone sounds like he’s gone soft. Can’t have that.

“Bakugou, it isn’t very heroic to tell someone to go d-”

“That’s the thing your shitty mind picks up on?” You’re such a cute little doll. “I just told you that I loved yo-”

“Even more of a reason to report you. Two pro heroes shouldn’t have a relationship, it’s unprofessional.”

“Your stupid ass really thinks you’re gonna be a hero? You can’t even go a round with Aoyama without getting a burn. Nah baby, you’re gonna be at home, well protected and away so that you don’t have a chance to fuck something up.”

“I’m going to be a hero Bakugou.”

“I tell you that I’m gonna keep you at home, away from everything and everyone and you’re concerned with being a hero? Dumb as hell.” 

“Bakugou, you seem to be especially mean to me-”

“Fuck it. You wanna get a shitty Lunch Rush meal?” Oh it’d be so easy to drug you up. You probably don’t even think about people who might drug your food. You're just a stupid little doll.

Midoriya really likes stalking you, okay?

You’re cute, a real old family friend and really sweet too.

You were absolutely ecstatic when his mom held that dinner to celebrate his quirk’s manifestation.

He almost told you the truth about All For One.

Big developments should be shared with the people you love, right?

Course he never really got your number cause he’s a little bit shy, but.

You won’t mind if he finds it in your house, right?

He’s been there countless times before, so it’s not like this is anything big or new or a groundbreaking development. 

It’s just, he’s here at night now, and you’re asleep. And so are your parents. 

But he’s quiet, don’t worry! He’s not gonna wake anyone up. It’s a hero’s duty to make sure that others are okay, and that includes getting the proper amount of sleep!

So he makes his way around your house with a nervous shuffle. 

How can he be calm when you’re sleeping just mere rooms away? It’s very distracting with you on the bed, just splayed out for him to watch and look at while you dream. 

Sometimes you moan. 

He likes to think he caused that.

He’s a little disgusted to think it, but he’s a little pent up. All the time

And you just look so cute on top of that bed-

But he came here for a phone number, and he’s gonna get one. 

Besides, he’s going to be the number one hero, a symbol of peace! He can’t sully All-Might’s legacy with dirty thoughts!

So he finds your phone charging on a chest of drawers in your room. 

After a few seconds of watching you sleep.

And oh you look good in a tank top and shorts, eyes closed and-

He picks up your phone to distract himself.

You were really trusting, weren’t you? You didn’t even have a lock on your phone.  

He’d hug you if you wouldn’t wake up from his cold skin.

He’d do more than hug you-

Nope, not gonna think about that and Midoriya hates himself a little for looking through your drawer to find where you keep your panties. 

There a lot of pairs to choose from, colored, patterned, laced... So many, pretty kinds of panties.

He settles for a pure, white pair. It’s plain. You won’t miss it.

After he pockets the guilt-inducing panties, he once again sets his sight on your phone.

Once again, he opens it, tries to find where you’ve put your contact information, and quickly duplicates it for his own device,

“Goodnight Bunny! Sleep well!” Oh what he wouldn’t give to kiss you goodnight.

After that, he decides to send you a few messages. They’re quick, innocent, sweet. He almost recorded himself cumming in your panties.

That morning, he wakes up bright and early, with even more energy than normal. He send you a good morning message, and moves on to stretch before class. 

He isn’t late but the only notes he can take in classes are those about your sleeping habits.

You snore, you like to sleep on your left side rather than your right, meaning Midoriya is the little spoon, and you like to sleep in tank tops which means Midoriya has to start wearing them.

When lunch rolls around, before Midoriya meets with Iida and Ururaka he sends you a quick update.

He should probably return your panties,

After he washes them, of course. 

He returns that night to your house with a notebook he’s decided to dedicate to you and your shared love story.

He checks your phone again and debates playing the recordings back to you in your sleep, or waiting for you to find his sweet surprise.

You’ve always likes surprises, you’d love one from him!

He looks at your panty drawer again.

It takes most of his willpower not to take another pair.

“Goodnight! Sleep well bunny!”

He makes a swift exit and leaves another message.

He repeats the process for several days and maybe it’s his imagination, but you sleep with a smile on your face now!

He wonders if it’s the returned panties that did it, or his messages.  

Sunday is date night for your parents, and it’s U.A’s day off. It’s like the stars have aligned themselves for Izuku Midoriya and your love.

He’s going to ask if you like his messages and if you’d like him to start texting you.

After five days of sneaking in the night, finally Izuku can knock on your door and see the light shining on your perfect face.

He knocks on the door, dressed in casual clothes. 

You answer in an All-Might hoodie and Izuku imagines it’s his All-Might hoodie.

“Oh! Hey Midoriya! Parents are out now, would you like to come in?”

“Oh uh! Yes please!” Even if he’d imagined this playing out so much, he can’t help the nervous tick of his hands. He’s so so close to you.

The door stays open until Izuku walks through, It’s nice to come in the front, and not a window.

You begin leading him towards the kitchen, hang a left out of the foyer. 

“I just started some chicken nuggets, hopefully I made enough for you,” You spin around suddenly. “I don’t know why, but I don’t think I have your number.”

That means you haven’t listened to any of his messages then? Izuku’s smile drops.

“Oh it’s nothing personal, I just never thought of giving it to you before, agues i should’ve considering how long we’ve known each other. I didn’t mean to make you look so sad Doriya, here its...”

Would he have to show you his messages? Would he have to make you see how much he loved you?

But that... sounded so violent! So villainous. It wouldn’t be right.

“Hey..” You put a hand on his shoulder. It fits perfectly. “You got that Doriya?”

“Yes!” His smile isn’t hard to regain with your hand so warm on him.

“Nuggets are done too! How many you want?”

“Oh, I’m actually, not- that hungry.”

“Any reason?”

“In my-” What did should he  — that’s got to work. “In my most recent work-study, there’s this case where someone is leaving voicemails to their targets,” But that makes him sound more villainous  than he wanted to.

“Oh shit really?” You look very cute with your wide eyes. 

“Uhm, yes?” It’s a terrible lie and anyone could pick it up if they weren’t so good and kind and trusting - and oh no.

It just had to make him sound like a villain.

“I’ve been getting some voicemails recently, and if it’s evidence or anything, do you need to take a look?”

“No,” He can feel the sweat dripping from his face. “It’s ah, fine?”

“Midoriya, if I have evidence and I don’t bring it in, wouldn’t that make me an accomplice?”

“Technically-” But if you knew they were from him why would you think they were an accomplice- you thought he didn’t have your number. 

You hadn’t heard those messages.

“Do you know is it’s evidence?”

“Well I can’t actually open m voicemail but if it’s anything, you can teach me, right?

“Of course!” He offers a hand to take the phone. “You just -” He taps a few things, “There!”

And you two listen to them. Izuku has such a big smile on his face.

“Good morning! I hope you feel great today! I’m going to do the best i can today, and i know you will too! I love you!”

“I’m about to at lunch, i wonder what you’re having. Maybe one day, we can cook together? Love you, have a nice meal!” 

“I’m about to get ready to come see you tonight, if you want to, stay up! I want to kiss you goodnight! Love you Bunny!”

“What is this?”

“I’m a little embarrassed, but it’s like the voicemails said! I love you, morning noon and night!”

“Midoriya, have you — oh god is that where my panties went?” The anger in your voice hurts him. “Get out.”

“Bunny I-”

“Get out of my house Midoriya. Before I call a real hero.”

“I love you!” 

“You don’t love me, you like my panties and an idea you’ve cultivated because we were never really that close.”

“I’ve known you since i was-”

“Yes, you have, but it’s our parents who are friends - not us. If we were friends, by now I’d call you Izuku.” And like that the notebook of his brain that’s pages were being torn out and stomped on were being sewn back in by a practiced hand.

“You can call me Izuku, if you want.”

“Midoriya, i’m telling you, get out and I won’t report you. You could get your license revoked. You don’t want that.”

“But-”

“Leave.” The way you stood your ground was very admirable. 

He makes a mental note, you are trusting, sweet, kind and headstrong. 

He can work with those. 

He’s suddenly glad he only returned one pair of panties.

He’ll get to visit you again real soon.

-- 

HOLY SHIT DID THAT TAKE FOREVER TO GET Through. I rewrote Shoto’s part five time but im pretty happy with it. Overall I think Bakuboi’s is the best.,., and Izuku,,, my poor deku,,, yours is.... interesting. Anyway thank you for the patience of the requester! And for also requesting these three lovely lads. Oh boy,,, time for some smut coming up... 

[ddaeng-danvers]

dreams

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

genre: fluff

summary: in which you and anakin are padawans, and a night of braiding each other’s hair leads to something more

warnings: the absolute briefest mention of smut, mentions of anxiety

word count: 2258

a/n: i’ve never written for star wars so i apologize for any inconsistencies, and i’m newly back to writng in general so this is kind of a mess (and unedited btw) also!! this was inspired by @passable-talent​ ‘s anakin padawan headcannon!! go check out their works they are all so fantastic!!

masterlist

You open your eyes when you hear the sound of a lightsaber retracting. The blue of Anakin’s saber is gone, and you turn to your side and switch your green one off as well. Anakin is practically laying on top of you, having just pinned you while training. His knees are on either side of your hips, and his face only inches from yours. 

“Gotcha,” Anakin smirks. You laugh from underneath him, before playfully pushing him off. 

“I let you win, y’know. I don’t think your ego could take another defeat.” You chuckled back as you stood from the floor. Anakin stands up a moment later, laughing at your commentary. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, as you were almost the same age, although you had joined the order far before Anakin. 

Your parents were told you were force sensitive at a young age and were quite willing to send you for training when you were of age. You met Anakin when you were eight. He suddenly joined your group of younglings and was a bit old to begin training. You and your peers helped catch him up to speed, and the two of you became the best of friends, despite your differences. Anakin is rash, quick-thinking, and sometimes quite the show-off. You, on the other hand, have always been the rule follower. You also exceed far more in technique, while Anakin’s power with the force is unprecedented. You were thirteen when you finally passed the initiate trials and were assigned a master, Shaak Ti. Anakin was assigned to a master two years earlier due to his gifts; Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. You didn’t see him much when he left, so you were elated to train with him again when you became a padawan. 

One of your favorite memories as a young padawan was your journey to Ilum with Shaak Ti to obtain your lightsaber crystal. It was one of the things that fascinated you most as a youngling. Shaak Ti had told you that during the ritual it was likely you would see visions, hallucinations, while you mediated. Still confident, you practically dove into the ritual to assemble your lightsaber. One of the lasting memories you have of the experience is a vision of you and Anakin on Naboo. The vision has become blurry with time, but all you can remember is Anakin in a black cloak standing in the doorway watching the sunset. Faintly at the end of the vision, a child seemed to start crying, and Anakin quickly turned around to resolve the crying child. You’ve treasured this vision in secret for seven years. 

“Hey, you okay?” Anakin lays his hand softly on your shoulder, you must’ve been lost in thought. 

“Yeah, I’m alright, just thinking,” Anakin observes your expression, puzzled. 

“Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” He asks. He squeezes your shoulder lightly before rubbing his thumb against your skin. It is then that you realize how sweaty you are from training. You smile up at him again. 

“I promise I’m alright, Ani.” You saved his nickname for sincere moments. Moments where the conversation is devoid of sarcasm and joking. The first time you used the nickname was the first time you returned from a mission seriously injured. Anakin panicked, almost sliced the medical droid in half until you reassured him, “I’m alright Ani, it’s just a broken arm, I’ll be fine.” You could practically feel his Force signature release and uncoil. 

The sweat and exhaustion from training seem to seep into your skin and bones. The light tunic you are wearing is practically soaked through. Anakin doesn’t seem to be faring much better. You reach to comb your hands through your hair and feel a light tug at the top of your braid. It must be time to rebraid it. 

About once a year, a padawan’s braid must be rebraided and tightened. This is done until a padawan graduates to the role of Knight when it is cut off with a lightsaber in a ritual ceremony. You and Anakin have made a small tradition out of braiding each other’s hair. You always do it together in one of your quarters, just the two of you. You both make an effort to meditate after, but you are both (Anakin at the very least) generally unsuccessful. 

“I need to tighten my braid.” Anakin looks up at you as you pinch the braid between your fingers. You can see the loose top of his braid because of his short hair. His needs to be rebraided too. 

“And it seems I do as well.” He looks at you again with a smile. Everything about him seems to be smiling. “Do you want to do it tonight?” He asks eagerly. You smile back and nod. 

“Sure, but we both need to hit the refresher first.” You laugh. Anakin lets out a light scoff at your observation. “I’ll meet you in your quarters in an hour, Skywalker.”

Your time in the refresher gives you time to think. When you first met Anakin, you were peers. That relationship eventually developed into an everlasting friendship. You were inseparable through your training and all of your padawan-ship thus far. Obi-Wan was practically your master as well. But weren’t attachments discouraged by the order? Wouldn’t they have separated you if they thought you weren’t following the Code? These questions nagged at you as you undressed and stepped into the shower. 

You’d felt differently towards Anakin ever since your journey to Ilum. Like something was pulling you towards him as if the Force willed it. It wasn’t until around age sixteen you noticed something had changed. Anakin had gotten taller, his face filled out, and his training bulked him up just the right amount. You’d catch yourself staring at him for as long as possible during debriefs with the Council, and after missions. But you willed these feelings away. You couldn’t form an attachment with Anakin, your friendship was already on the fence. It was forbidden. 

You drowned these thoughts away as you finished washing your hair. After finishing in the shower, you dried your hair and dressed in a loose shirt and night pants. As you stepped out of the refresher into the main room of your quarters, you glanced at the holo to see an hour had flown by. You quickly slipped on shoes and made your way to Anakin’s quarters. 

When you arrived, you let yourself in, assuming he would already be changed. Anakin, 

who always seems to prove you otherwise, was wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting pants. His back (his toned and muscular back) was turned to you. You cleared your throat loudly to alert him of your presence. He turned around to face you.

“Oh, I already knew you were in here.” He smirks. Another one of Anakin’s hobbies; teasing you. He slipped a black tunic of his own on, and moved to sit on the bed. Before sitting next to him, you grabbed a comb and a few pieces of twine to retie along with your braids. You set them out lightly in front of him, before motioning for him to sit in front of you. 

“I’ll do yours first.” Anakin settles at the foot of the bed, and you begin to untie his braid. Nothing about these nights were sexual. You were simply braiding his hair. But anyone who walked in could cut the tension with a knife. Your hands moved swiftly through his hair, occasionally brushing against his neck and collarbone. Every time you did, you felt Anakin inhale slightly. You’d always finish Anakin’s braid quickly, likely due to your skill of elaborately braiding your own hair for missions and other events. (Also because Senator Amidala made it her mission to do your hair at any chance she received.) You tied sections off with light-colored twine and weaved the new braid through your fingers. “Good as new.” 

Anakin silently begins to work on your braid, but something in his eyes looks different. He looks at you with a new fondness. Softness even. He pulls the rest of your hair back with an elastic and begins to undo your loose braid. He combs his fingers through the unbraided hair. “Your hair is soft.” He mumbles, shyly. You never thought you would see the Anakin Skywalker acting shy.

“I washed it earlier, after training.” Anakin nods, thoughtfully. He begins to braid the hair, his fingers grazing your neck every once in a while. It took Anakin a bit of practice when he first learned to braid, you remember fondly. It seemed to be the only thing that stumped him as a young padawan. So much so that Obi-Wan had to help him for the first few years without you. He finished the braid silently and tied new pieces of twine around the braid. He left his hand to rest on your shoulder, before slowly moving it to your cheek. You looked up at him in shock. Anakin was always quite touchy, likely a result of his childhood, but he’s never been this upfront. 

“Ani, what are you-” He combs his hand through the rest of your hair, before putting it back down in his lap. He looks confused, anxious. Your thoughts from the refresher seem to come back. Seeing Anakin like this seemed to awaken something in you. You knew you have always cared for Anakin. You’d been there through all his injuries, through the passing of his mother. He held you when you’d missed your parents when you agonized over the future. But you’d never assumed you could be more than what you were. It was forbidden. You’d been taught to avoid forming attachments, as they always led to suffering. 

But tonight, on the soft sheets of Anakin’s bed, having just rebraided each other’s hair, sitting in your nightclothes, you said to hell with it. You believed in the Code, truly and wholeheartedly. When you were with Anakin, you felt nothing but peace and serenity. Anakin made you a better person, a better Jedi. You balanced each other out more than you could alone.

You reached for his hands, fidgeting in his lap. As you intertwined your fingers, Anakin looked up from his hands. “Credit for your thoughts?”

Anakin seemed to gather himself for a moment. He tightened his grip around your hands, before releasing them and placing his hands on your cheeks. He glanced at your lips for less than a second. He leaned in suddenly and brought his lips to yours. 

The kiss was brief, but Anakin’s smile as he pulled away from you shined brighter than any sun in the galaxy. “I never thought you’d feel the same way. You were raised here, and I just assumed you wouldn’t agree with forming-” You cut him off by kissing him again. You leaned your foreheads against one another, catching your breath as the tension in the room floated away. 

As you told Anakin of your vision on Ilum, he told you of his dreams, the ones of you dying the same way as his mother. He told you he was petrified of losing you. “We should tell the Council Anakin, it may be serious.” He looked at you in agreement. 

“I agree, my love, but can’t it wait until morning.” The sun had set completely since you came back into his room, the Coruscant skyline lit up by speeders and homes. You sighed and looked back up at Anakin. 

“Fine, but you must tell them, this is serious, Ani.” Anakin nods again, before placing a chast kiss on your lips. You spend the rest of the evening under his sheets, celebrating the love you have finally accepted. The attachment you have finally pursued. 

Obi-Wan opens the doors to Anakin’s quarters, expecting him to be awake by now. It is not until he senses another familiar presence in the room, that he realizes what he has walked in on. His padawan and his dear friend, sleeping peacefully in Anakin’s bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. As Obi-Wan closes the door silently, he makes his way to Master Shaak Ti’s quarters to collect twenty credits. 

After collecting his bet, Obi-Wan makes his way to the Council to discuss an upcoming mission. “I sense, seen something, you have, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan's expression turned surprised. How had Master Yoda known? “No fear, gift from the force, this is. Prevented a dire fate from your padawan, it has.” Obi-Wan sighed, his padawan’s secret is safe. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan. Sometimes a gift from the force, attachments are.”

You wake up before Anakin. It seems sometime through the night, he removed his shirt. You knew he ran hot at night, which is the likely explanation. You press a soft kiss to his jaw and he begins to stir. “Good morning, Ani.” 

“Good morning, my love. Sleep well?” You nod and continue to pepper kisses along his jaw. A bout of silence goes by until he begins to speak again. “I dreamt of you, actually.”

You smile, “Tell me about it.” Anakin dives into describing his dream, which sounds eerily similar to your vision on Ilum. You let his story evelop you, and imagine a future with Anakin. A peaceful one, free of conflict or war. Maybe you’d settle on Naboo, or stay on Coruscant. Maybe you would have children, how many can be decided later. All you know now is that any future with Anakin is one living for.

[not-all-dead]

Could you please do angsty #70 but with fluffy ending for Kya/Lin 👉👈

prompt #70 - “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

holy bejesus this ended up long and I’m not sure how fluffy the ending is but it does get happier(?) at the end

some very depressing thoughts from Lin but no s*lf h*rm or anything

Lin sat in her office, the door locked and lights off. There was minimal light coming from her window, the blinds pulled down to hide her from view. She rested her head in her hands, wanting to cry but feeling so overwhelmed that she couldn’t bring herself to. It was hardly afternoon, but she’d already been there for six hours.

Mako and Saikhan had both come to check on her, but she’d not let either of them in. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, didn’t want anyone to see her at all, really. She was so tired, so sick of being constantly in the spotlight. She wanted to hide, to live a quiet life in the countryside where nobody could bother her.

But at the same time, she had an impossibly strong urge to protect people. She couldn’t retire, wouldn’t retire, if her staying meant order could be kept. She was aware that her being chief wasn’t the solution to every conflict, but she’d managed to keep the city functioning well for many years.

She also knew that part of her needing to stay was because of her desire to be loved by her mother, but she ignored that aspect of it. She didn’t want to think about how little affection Toph had shown towards her, how she’d never once been proud of her. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she’d done everything right in an attempt to earn her mother’s approval, and had still failed.

There were stacks upon stacks of files and papers on her desk, all in need of completion. She stared at them, a sinking feeling in her chest. She knew she’d only feel worse if she left it until later, but she couldn’t bring herself to start. Instead, she fell into her thoughts, her body growing numb.

She thought of all the people in republic city. Of how it was her duty, her responsibility to help them no matter what. She thought of Mako, of Korra, Bolin and Asami. She thought about how she’d been a mentor to the teenagers, and how they were a responsibility to her as well. She thought of her sister and niblings, how she’d pushed them away and still had yet to reconnect. She thought of Tenzin and his kids, how they’d attached themselves to her like an aunt since they were very young. She thought of everyone in her life and those not in her life, and she thought of the guilt she felt towards them, the feeling that she’d never be enough.

She thought of Kya. She thought of how much she’d helped her through, how many times she’d come back from her travels just to be with her. She thought of the habits she’d helped her overcome. She thought of how beautiful she was, and how she’d only grown more so with age. She thought of how she was the only one who really knew her, and the only one she loved completely.

And she thought of how she’d never get that love back. She thought of how Kya would never stop travelling, and how even if she did, she’d never know how much she loved her. She thought of telling her how she felt, but pushed the thought away. She’d never have the guts to do it, and anyway, she’d never get the response she’d hope for.

She was snapped out of her head by a knock on the door. She didn’t move and said nothing, hoping whoever it was would go away on their own. She assumed it was Mako or Saikhan, but was too tired to get up to check. Several minutes went by and she didn’t hear them leave, but they didn't knock again or say anything either. Finally, Lin heard a voice from the other side.

“Lin, can I please come in?” It was Kya.

Lin still said nothing, sinking further down in her chair and using her arm as a pillow on her desk. There was quiet again and Lin expected Kya to leave, but there was still no shift outside the door.

“Lin, please,” Kya said after a long moment. “I’m worried about you. Please let me in.”

Lin waited another few minutes, but Kya still refused to move away from the door. She eventually reached out and metalbent the lock open, allowing Kya entrance.

Kya heard the click and reached for the doorknob, opening the door slowly. She peaked in and saw Lin resting on the desk before entering the room completely. She pulled the extra chair around the desk, sitting herself closely beside Lin.

“Talk to me,” Kya said softly, placing her hand on Lin’s thigh.

Lin turned her head so she was looking at Kya, still using her arm as a pillow. She stared at the older woman, face devoid of emotion. Kya stared back, concern painted across her features. Lin felt a wave of guilt crash over her, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, standing up from her desk and going to look out the window.

She pulled the blinds up, watching the people and cars moving below. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, hands tightly gripping her biceps. She could feel Kya’s eyes watching her and her cheeks getting wetter. The street below blurred, and when she felt a hand on her shoulder, she fought to hold back a sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Lin,” Kya said, rubbing her hand up and down Lin’s back.

“Please don’t,” Lin said, pulling away again.

“Don’t what?” Kya tried to turn Lin to face her, but she just moved further away.

“Don’t do what you always do. Don’t act like you care, only to leave again. I know you don’t care, but every time you come, you make it seem like you do. Every goodbye hurts more than the last. I can’t take it, especially not now,” Lin’s voice was timid, her tone unlike any Kya had heard from her before.

“Lin, I- ” Kya paused and walked over to Lin, placing her hand on Lin’s shoulder and forcing Lin to look at her.

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think I love you?” A tear slipped from Kya’s eye, her heart clenching with the realization that Lin really didn’t realise how much she loved her.

Lin’s face twisted as she looked up at Kya. She wanted to believe what she was hearing, but her mind still told her that it wasn’t true, that it couldn’t be. She felt a sob build up in her throat, and when at last it broke free, she buried her head in Kya’s shoulder. Kya’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed, her own face betraying how much Lin’s anguish hurt her, too.

Lin felt hollow by the time she’d calmed down again and was no longer crying. She felt like her very soul had been pulled from her body, leaving only a shell of a person, a mind numbed of emotion. She stepped away from Kya, letting the older woman take her hands without protest.

“I’m sorry, your dress, I… ” Lin trailed off, refusing to meet Kya’s eyes.

“My dress is fine, Lin. Here, sit, would you?” Kya dragged Lin’s chair away from the desk and made her sit down.

“Listen, I can tell there’s a lot going on with you right now. You’re clearly hurting, and you need help to get through this. I’m going to do anything I can for you, and we can find others to help too if we need to. I’m not leaving this time, alright? I promise,” Kya sat in the chair beside Lin’s, taking her hands again.

Lin nodded and took a deep breath. She squeezed Kya’s hand weakly and raised her head. When their eyes met, she felt like the breath was knocked out of her, and she felt her heart rate rise. Her eyes watered again, though no tears fell, and she forced herself to speak again.

“I’m so sorry I took so long to say something, and- ”

“Lin, no. I’m sorry for being so ignorant and for making you feel the way I did. I promise from now on I’ll do anything to keep you from feeling that again,” Kya squeezed Lin’s hands.

“Thank you,” Lin said, a tiny, tired smile forming on her face.

list of prompts

[tainted-wine]

Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

------------x------------

Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices. 

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey. 

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something. 

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses. 

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.” 

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club. 

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

---------------------------------------------------------------

8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans. 

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.” 

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently.  Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison. 

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you. 

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’  You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder. 

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’ 

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out.  “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice. 

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out. 

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace. 

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.” 

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan. 

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear. 

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds. 

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does. 

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort. 

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear. 

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process. 

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut. 

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

[orsuliya]

The Rebel Princess Carry Top 8 List

Rebel Princess who?

If you are reading this list, you probably already know everything there is to know about The Rebel Princess. For all the newcomers: I advise you to strap in, watch, enjoy and prepare yourselves for any unreasonable expectations towards prospective male partners that you may acquire in the process.

Carrying of princesses or princess carries

For the purposes of this list we shall define a princess carry as an act in which person A carries person B in their arms, with one arm placed beneath either thighs or knees, the other supporting the back and the body of person B being held close to person A’s chest. Just like a groom carrying his bride, hence the alternative name of a bridal carry.

Furthermore, we shall only accept those attempts in which a defined element of lifting the carried person can be observed. A carry is a carry, a catch is a catch, no matter how delightful such a princess catch happens to be. This automatically disqualifies catches performed by Zitan and Xiao Qi in, respectively, episodes 2. and 4.

Similarly disqualified are all instances of potato sack hefts, such as the one performed by Potato in episode 4. with Xie Wanru playing the role of the sack, as well as any other hefts, lifts or carries where the carried person is not merely supported, but rather fully embraced by arms coming at them from opposite directions.

Attention! Despite the name stating otherwise, the carried person does not, in fact, have to be a princess, thus any titles carried by the carried person will have no influence on the final score.

Why Top 8

Why Top 8, you might ask. Well, there are exactly eight proper princess carries in the whole 68-episode-long drama. Which, by the way, gives us one princess carry every eight and a half episodes or 0.12 of a princess carry per single episode.

Scoring criteria

Since the purpose of this list is to objectively estimate the respective value of each princess carry and then use those results to rank all the attempts accordingly, from the feeblest to the most admirable, we are in need of a comprehensive scoring system. After some deliberations the judging panel (namely me) has managed to create exactly such a system, which was then approved by an independent third party (also me, but in a different hat). Each attempt shall receive a score from 0 to 10 points; this score being the sum of four components: Style, Technique, Hotness and Excellence. Those four main components encompass partial, specific criteria; see the explanation below.

Style: This particular component is mostly used to give proper value to such vital characteristics as artistry and flair. However, those are not by any means the only considerations the judging panel will take into account while awarding the total score. The intention behind any given attempt is to be established and subsequently used to judge how well the chosen style suits the purpose of the carry in question and whether it adequately fulfills any goals and needs that may have been expressed or set before the commencement of the attempt itself. The judging panel reserves the right to make demerits based on handling of clothing and accessories, as needed.

Technique: While proper technique of executing a princess carry is most important and ought to be assessed with exceptional care, it is far from the only criteria taken into account while rating general technique of any one attempt. After all, lifting a person in one thing and actually carrying them a very different one. Thus, whenever possible, we will observe and judge the endurance exhibited during the attempt in question; if such an observation proves to be impossible for any reason, a reasonable estimation may serve as an acceptable substitute. Moreover, since any princess carry has to be judged on its merits, the overall difficulty of any attempt must be first established, depending on the probable disparity between the strength of the carrier and the weight of the carried person as well as other factors, such as any floppiness or lack of a proper latch on the neck of the carrier.

Hotness: Recognizing that overall hotness is not a criteria that can be judged objectively, the judging panel hereby undertakes to use more precise methods of measurement, such as: reaction of any independent witnesses, if any are present, emotional reaction of the carrier, the carried person or both, whichever applies and the general mood set by any particular attempt. If any of the aforementioned methods cannot be used for any reason, the judging panel reserves the right to supplement this component with individual hotness assessments made by qualified experts (also me, but horny).

Excellence: Any exceptional elements or unique characteristics, which the judging panel feels might not have been rewarded properly while scoring the other components, will be subject to a rather subjective criteria of overall excellence.

The individual components can receive the following maximum point values:

Style: 3 points

Technique: 3 points

Hotness: 3 points

Excellence: 1 point

AND NOW TO THE LIST PROPER!

Number 8. Song Huaien gets recruited to escort a rather shaken Yuxiu to a doctor – episode 36.

Style: 0.5 points

What style can we even speak of when one of the parties involved makes no attempt at hiding their utter lack of interest in anything even remotely approaching artistry or feeling? Truly, never has there been a carrier less gracious; that the purpose of this exercise is to escort Yuxiu to a doctor is neither here nor there and serves as no excuse for the decided lack of any flair. After all, technically this is an engagement carry, seeing as Song Huaien announces his intention to make Yuxiu his main wife halfway through its duration. Moreover, he has the easiest possible dress to deal with and still manages to bunch it up, if only a little.

Technique: 2.5 points

A truly great lift it is not, although a more or less correct one, at least if we were speaking of pure utility. Still, Song Huaien manages to position Yuxiu in his arms in one move, no further jostling into place needed. Although this may be helped by the fact that she hooks her own hand around his neck even before he gets her off the ground. What is rather impressive is Song Huaien’s undeniable endurance: he not only manages to carry Yuxiu through two entire courtyards, going up and down the stairs, but also makes it look surprisingly easy. Why, at one point he even breaks into a trot. That Yuxiu is hands down the smallest female to be carried in this drama is another matter; he still does rather well and his posture leaves nothing to be desired throughout the entire carry.

Hotness: 0.4 points

There is much to be said about the utter lack of any emotion from Song Huaien other than pure unwillingness to even exist in this particular time and place. No show of strength or endurance will ever compensate for that. The witnesses do not seem to be overly impressed either; why, Awu cuts off Song Huaien’s declaration of intent and physically hurries him away, while no other person present at the scene pays any attention whatsoever to Huaien’s feat. Sheer competence might have been enough to raise the final score, if not for one thing: Yuxiu holds herself very, very stiff for most of the time, trying to look smaller and not, by any chance, lean into Song Huaien’s chest. It’s only at the very end that she makes a conscious effort to do so and that finally brings the element of positive emotion into play.

Excellence: 0.1 points

We admit that there is something rather special about the sheer awkwardness of this princess carry.  It certainly is not easy to forget this heap of stiff, sad mess.

Total score: 3.5 points

Number 7. Potato does his absolute best to show Xie Wanru his love – episode 45.

Style: 1.2 points

There is something to be said for Potato’s (faulty) confidence as well as for his single-minded intent to show Xie Wanru the depth of his care for her and Miracle Fetus. That he doesn’t properly succeed is a different matter altogether. Yet it cannot be denied that there is a certain flair to his approach, if not to the actual execution of the princess carry itself. One also has to question the validity of deciding to princess carry one’s wife while standing at the foot of the bed, although that might simply mean that Potato chose to be surprisingly realistic about his capabilities.

Technique: 1 point

The fact that Potato even manages to lift Xie Wanru, much less to a proper princess carry height, is a rather impressive feat, particularly taking into account that he is, well, Potato and Xie Wanru is no sylphid. Moreover, he really does rather well on the upswing, applying a reasonable amount of force, certainly enough to get her to the required, if not particularly awe-inspiring level. What is surprising is that - when the scene is rewatched closely - it does seem like he actually manages to lock his grip and stop Wanru on the downswing, if only for a moment. What does get him is her fearful reaction; and even then he does manage to let her down in a controlled manner. Sadly, Potato’s attempt should be properly classified as a princess lift rather than a princess carry, since there is no actual carrying going on; this makes it hard to estimate his endurance.

Hotness: 1.4 points

The judging panel would like to notify all sundry that its opinions are meant to be devoid of any personal prejudices and as close to true objectivity as it is even possible. Which means that it must be admitted that there is something rather… warm about the pre- and post-carry playfulness exhibited by both parties, regardless of the momentary fear and panic shown during the latter half of the carry itself. Moreover, the general mood of the scene remains in place in spite of Potato’s incompetence and objective failure. Truly, it is a great pity we cannot see how any of Wanru’s maids might have reacted to Potato’s shenanigans. “It’s a rather lovely moment of marital playfulness,” says our expert, “one perhaps made even more spectacular by Potato’s failure to fulfill his original goal. And really, it does prove once and for all that potatoes should be served warm, not cold!”

Excellence: 0.8 points

It may not be quite fair to award points based on the sheer unexpectedness of ever seeing this particular carry, but there you have it. Objectively speaking, Potato’s sheer excitement and playfulness alone might have managed to win the judging panel over, but the fact that a root vegetable somehow managed to pull off a princess… lift is even more impressive.

Total score: 4.4 points

Number 6. Gatekeeper steps in for Zitan and carries Su Jin’er out of the dungeon – episode 57.

Style: 1.1 points

It is debatable whether there is much flair or artistry to this particular princess carry, despite it being executed in rather dramatic circumstances and in no less dramatic surroundings. However, that is not the purpose of this attempt; what Gatekeeper is actually meant to do is to conduct a rescue, which he certainly does in a rather professional, matter-of-fact manner. There is, however, one element to his behaviour, which may seem rather out of place; notice that he stops before Zitan in such a way that Su Jin’er’s legs actually bump into Prime Minister Wen. As to whether he does it on purpose, well, that certainly seems to be the case.

Technique: 2.9 points

That Gatekeeper is a surprisingly competent man, especially for an Imperial Mook. Not only does he manage to lift an unconscious Su Jin’er from a slumped, almost horizontal position, but he also attempts it while in full mail. What’s more, he does pretty well with arranging her in his arms despite her overall floppiness and then moves around tight spaces with no visible effort. As if that was not enough, he then carries her up a great number of very steep stairs and then, presumably, all the way to the palace proper. Really, the only thing one might find any problems with is Su Jin’er’s relatively low position in Gatekeeper’s arms, especially where her legs are concerned; and even that might be the result of trying to provide more support for her head.

Hotness: 0.6 points

While an unconscious Su Jin’er is unable to express any kind of reaction and even if it was not so, she would most probably act disappointed in the identity of her actual carrier, there is something very reassuring about the matter-of-fact manner in which this particular princess carry is executed. “Competence is something rather attractive, no matter its source,” says our expert, “and there is a certain romantic air about the idea of being literally carried out of danger.”

Excellence: 0.5 points

There is something to be said for a competent substitute, although this rather novel approach to princess carries might be not to everybody’s taste. And yet it spared us from having to watch Zitan making his own attempt, for which the judges are, for one, undeniably grateful.

Total score: 5.1 points

Number 5. Xiao Qi rescues Awu from the evils of excessive alcohol consumption – episode 13.

Style: 2 points

Never has there been a carry more utilitarian in purpose; Xiao Qi makes a decision to get his wife to bed and immediately executes it, no hesitation or half-measures needed nor wanted! And yet even then he cannot deny himself that one tiny show of flair on the upswing. Why, I do believe that at one point Awu’s knees are positioned higher than her head, if only for a moment!

Technique: 3 points

There is much to be admired about Xiao Qi’s technique; he manages to lift Awu up in one fluent move, using the considerable power of that upswing to position her in one go so well that it requires no further corrections. Which raises a question of where and when he might have learned to do that, seeing as it’s the very first attempt we see on-screen (somebody must have brought Awu back from the bridge, don’t you think?). Xiao Qi carries Awu all the way to bed, which may not be a great distance, but still a considerable one. Especially as she is out of it and thus unable to help support her own weight by holding onto his neck or shoulders, although she still tucks her arm in, stopping herself from achieving total floppiness.

Hotness: 1 point

Since Awu is out of it and Xiao Qi’s face is full of determination to get his wife to bed… but for altogether too innocent reasons, there is little that can be said for overall hotness of this scene. The only witness for whose reaction we might have hoped, namely Yuxiu, is also unconscious, which forces us to ask the experts for their opinion. “Somewhat hotter than lukewarm by the sheer force of Xiao Qi’s competence in executing that carry,” said I, nodding with great authority.

Excellence: 0.7 points

The judging panel remains in awe of the exceptional fluidity with which Xiao Qi manoeuvred Awu’s body into his arms.

Total score: 6.7 points

Number 4. Zilu starts celebrating Mi’er’s birthday in a very appropriate manner – episode 22.

Style: 2.4 points

From what little we can observe, Zilu, who is a rather artistic man on any given day, is no less artful when it comes to celebrating his beloved’s birthday. A proper princess carry is just the way to go; still, there remains a question of whether a planned and possibly rehearsed carry is just as good or maybe even better than an improvised one. Zilu’s is certainly planned, judging from the way he arranges himself in the doorway and then carries Mi’er through the entire courtyard, door-to-door. What is admirable is that he miraculously manages to deal with her very difficult dress; perhaps it could have been arranged better, for it does get somewhat bunched up… but it’s a good attempt nonetheless.

Technique: 2.1 points

Sadly, we have been robbed of seeing the actual lift, all thanks to Pang Gui the Inept Ninja. Still, there is much that can be assumed based on the prelude, which we do see, and the carry itself. Zilu’s stretched out hand is undoubtedly very steady, which speaks to his confidence in the subsequent maneuver. The carry itself is rather less steady – Mi’er seems to rest rather low and even sways at one point, although that can be excused since Zilu is climbing the stairs at that very moment. All the same, Mi’er does clutch onto him rather tightly with a fully functional grip.  And yes, Zilu does manage to climb a few stairs, which, together with the fact that he carries Mi’er through the entire courtyard, is a surprising feat for a Ma prince. Those, as you know, are not particularly known for their fitness.

Hotness: 2.2 points

It is rather hard to say what Zilu’s two servants might think about his princess carry, even if they do go to their knees. What is quite remarkable, on the other hand, is that Pang Gui stills for a good moment or two, seemingly for no other reason than to observe this great feat. Unfortunately, we do not see Mi’er’s face, although it is obvious from Zilu’s pre- and post-carry reaction that he at least must take great enjoyment from the very idea of surprising his lady in this manner. “There is a tangible promise of great enthusiasm and surprising endurance right in that princess carry,” says our expert, “which raises the temperature quite considerably.”

Excellence: 0.3 points

Not a memorable princess carry by any means; there is a reason why it was missing from the original list of contenders despite the rather unexpected carrier. Still, it is a birthday carry, which certainly makes it one of a kind.

Total score: 7 points

Number 3. Xiao Qi rescues Awu from the evils of lonely garden strolls  – episode 18.

Style: 2.7 points

Excellent handling of a rather difficult multi-layered dress on Xiao Qi’s part! Somehow he manages to lift Awu in such a way as to fan out all the layers for maximum aesthetic effect, while at the same time not leaving them to hang so low as to hinder his steps. The overall style is rather sentimental, which suits their surroundings, if not the occasion itself.

Technique: 2.1 points

The lift itself is not quite forceful enough to allow Xiao Qi to arrange his wife correctly on the first try; he does have to jostle her into position. Although this is pretty understandable, seeing as they go straight from an embrace to a full carry with no space to catch momentum in between. Awu is quite a helpful princess on this occasion, holding onto Xiao Qi’s shoulder with a solid, if not overly firm grip and bringing her head close to his chest, which redistributes her bodyweight in a rather helpful manner. The distance to their bed is presumably not that great, taking into account the general layout of the house, but it would still take more than a few steps to get there.

Hotness: 2.6 points

No witnesses to be had, but Awu seems properly impressed during the lift itself. In fact, there might have even been a tiny gasp! Once properly in the air, she shows proper appreciation as well as undeniable trust in the strength of her husband’s arms. Xiao Qi, on the other hand, may look rather restrained to an untrained eye; make no mistake, though, there is undeniable pride there and a not very subtle promise of things to come in form of a smile. “Trust,” says our expert, “is a very warm feeling in proper circumstances” and we concur heartily with this opinion.

Excellence: 0.5 points

There is little else to be said about this particular carry, although there is something truly remarkable about Awu’s helpfulness and utter trust; the judges hold an opinion that a proper carry is just like a tango – meant for two.

Total score: 7.9 points

Number 2. Xiao Qi bridal carries his princess of a bride to their chamber – episode 33.

Style: 3 points

There is masterful handling of clothes and then there are miracles. What Xiao Qi is doing on this occasion can be nothing but the latter; somehow he manages to execute a princess carry while managing his own floor-length ceremonial robes, Awu’s difficult dress with exceedingly long sleeves and a train as well as both of their trailing cloaks. All the while displaying this unwieldy finery to its full magnificence and somehow not landing on his face. Although he noticeably deploys no other dramatic gestures nor tricks except for some very touching and impressively prideful sweet-talk, so it seems like this miracle does require a lot of concentration. But do we really need additional bells and whistles in this case? The judges seem to hold a rather firm opinion on that matter: a bridal carry it is supposed to be and a bridal carry it is, for it really does not get any more bridal, at least not without some reality-shattering shenanigans.

Technique: 2.2 points

Unfortunately, we are again devoid of the opportunity to see the actual lift, which seems like a true pity, taking into account the probable level of difficulty caused by all this wedding finery. Once again Awu is being held rather high, although, to be fair, rather unsteadily – for Xiao Qi, that is, not unsteadily in a particularly dangerous or even visible manner. There is also the matter of her grip; this time Awu locks her hands around Xiao Qi’s neck, which might indicate the need for further support. It is hard to estimate the distance which they might have crossed as we do not know the starting point, but it must have been a rather considerable one and those robes cannot be light.

Hotness: 2.7 points

Having female attendants literally giggle once hit with the aura of overwhelming hotness should be proof enough that this princess carry is truly something special. If it is not, then there is always the look of undisguised manly pride on Xiao Qi’s face, only further affirmed by his words. “Few things can fan the flames quicker than a prime display of manly confidence,” confirms our expert, blushing violently, “as long, of course, as it does not cross over into toxic machoism. In this case we can feel absolutely safe, there is no doubt as to that.” The judging panel, however, decided to award a demerit for a visible lack of surety or excitement on Awu’s face; although caused by external matters, it does seem to retract from the overall mood.

Excellence: 1 point

I am sure that nobody can deny that this particular bridal carry is the most bridal of them all. There is literally no further height to strive for, as far as bridal carries are concerned.

Total score: 8.9 points

AND NOW FOR OUR NUMBER ONE PRINCESS CARRY...

Number 1. Xiao Qi cannot wait to give Awu all the children – episode 29.

Style: 3 points

There is showing off your wife’s beautiful clothes and there is just plain showing off your skills at the former. Xiao Qi shows himself to be the master of both, somehow allowing Awu’s train to hang very close to its full length and yet managing it in such a way that it doesn’t hinder his steps in the least. He also does it while seemingly paying no attention to his own steps, which takes it to a wholly different level, and while at that, he adds a lot of eye-contact and even a heartbreakingly gentle nuzzle. No wonder that towards the end we can observe a quietly triumphant look under all that manly confidence… and no wonder that this particular carry gets its very own rather dramatic music accompaniment.

Technique: 2.4 points

It is rather unfortunate that we were not able to observe the execution of the lift, although there is no doubt that it is was correct at the very least. What we do see, however, is that Awu is being held very high, which indicates an application of considerable force on the upswing, something that Xiao Qi has already proven himself to be more than capable of. At the same time, the difficulty of this particular carry is rather low due to a rather trifling distance as well as Awu helping quite a lot with how she holds her body and with that gentle, yet very solid grip. However, the judging panel is forced to admit that the steadiness of Xiao Qi’s hold is truly a sight to behold; it takes a true master in order to maintain such a minute face-to-face distance without touching and yet avoid any unpleasant bumps.

Hotness: 3 points

Never has there been a carry more deserving of an NC-17 rating. Even without the prelude there is no doubt whatsoever as to the purpose of this particular exercise; the look which Xiao Qi and Awu share speaks just as loudly as five full-blown kisses would have in any other circumstances. And a smouldering look is not the only thing they share: why, at one point they seem to share the same breath, which turns the chemistry up to unimaginable levels. At the same time, this scorching hotness is masterfully tempered by a sense of pure tenderness and intimacy, which causes the judging panel to bitterly regret their promise not to exceed the maximum score for any single component.

Excellence: 1 point

This princess carry really has everything that an ideal princess carry should have, which is undeniably a kind of excellence in itself. However, that is not what convinced the judges to award the highest number of points possible in this category, but rather the fact that more than one expert has pointed out this particular scene as the reason of their own imminent pregnancy, sometimes with twins or even triplets.

Total score: 9.4 points

[all the amazing gifs used in this list were provided by the ever-generous @storge​]

[writingquestionsanswered]

hi! i was wondering if you have any advice for writing that feels juvenile at times? when i write action scenes/serious scenes i feel my writing is fine but when i have slower chapters where my characters are bonding, etc. i feel like my writing makes the scene come off childish. do you have any tips for that? i’m not sure if it’s just in my head honestly. thanks!

Help for Writing That Feels Juvenile in Places

Here are some of the things that commonly make writing feel juvenile:

#1 - Scene Problems

1. Scene is Aimless - If you don’t know where the scene is going or what it’s trying to accomplish, you’re going to end up with a meandering jumble of moments that isn’t fun to read. What is the purpose of your scene? Why does it absolutely have to be in the story?

2. Scene is Unbalanced - Every scene should be a balancing act between exposition (explaining things), dialogue (characters speaking), and action (someone does something.) If your scene is mostly exposition, mostly dialogue, or mostly action, the balance will be off and it will feel amateurish.

Read more in my post: Balancing Dialogue with Action and Narrative 

3. Scene Doesn’t Accomplish Enough - Scenes need to do double, triple, or even quadruple duty. They should accomplish at least two of the following: world building/setting description, development of characters and/or character relationships, delivery of back story or other important information, setting things up for future scenes. If you have a whole scene focused on just characters bonding, that’s going to be boring which makes it feel amateurish.

4. Scene Starts Too Early - One hallmark of amateur writing is scenes that start way before they should. If the bulk of your scene takes place in your character’s 10 a.m. biology class, do we really need to see your character wake up that morning, brush her teeth, put on her clothes, and walk to class? Unless anything story critical happens during that period it shouldn’t be there. Start with the character walking into biology, not the moment she opens her eyes that day.

Read more in my post: Beginning a New Scene or Chapter

5. Scene Has Weak Transitions - Scenes work best when you transition into them from the last scene and out of them into the next scene. For example, if your scene ends with your character sitting at home thinking about an upcoming trip to Mexico, and you know the next scene begins with your character boarding her flight, you might end the scene with her looking at her flight confirmation e-mail and thinking about how she can’t wait to get out of town. Then, the next chapter begins with her standing in line to board her flight, looking around and thinking about how she won’t miss her town, then handing the plane ticket to the gate agent. This makes the transition from one scene to the next less abrupt and more refined.

Read more in my post: Subtle Scene Transitions

#2 - Dialogue Problems

1. Too Much Dialogue - Even if you have a good balance of dialogue, exposition, and action, it’s still possible to have too much dialogue. Look at every line and ask whether it’s really necessary. Make sure every line is as straight and to the point as possible. Determine whether something said might work better as exposition.

2. Overly Realistic Dialogue - We want dialogue to feel real, but real dialogue also looks terrible on paper, so it’s important not to go overboard. Avoid a lot of interjections like “um,” “uh,” “ugh,” and “hmm.” (Use them sparingly.) Watch out for “small talk.” Don’t write five lines worth of back and forth about your character’s experience in a coffee shop unless what happened is somehow critical to the plot. Don’t go overboard with idioms, wisecracks, and one-liners, and as tempting as it is, don’t have your characters say each other’s names all the time. We typically only use names in dialogue when we’re really trying to get someone’s attention.

3. Stilted Dialogue - Sometimes dialogue sounds stiff and overly formal, which makes it sound amateurish. For example: “I do not know what you’re talking about! We have been dating for over a month. It is not as though we are perfect strangers!” Most people in modern times don’t speak like that. We use contractions and we don’t use words like “thus” and “must” unless we’re being silly. But, there are reasons why a character might speak like that. In my book, one of the characters comes from a super upper class society where using contractions is considered to be vulgar. That’s fine, but don’t do it unless you have a good reason. 4. Misuse of Dialogue & Action Tags - This is a really big one. Dialogue and action tags are what let the reader know who’s speaking: Dialogue tag: “Let’s get out of here,” Harold said.   Action tag: Harold stood up and jutted his chin toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Every line of dialogue doesn’t need a tag, and you should also alternate between no tag, action tags, and dialogue tags.

Also: there’s absolutely nothing wrong with using “said” as a dialogue tag. In fact, you should be using “said” most often. Replacing “said” with words like: “yelled,” “posited,” “offered,” “whispered,”  “demanded” once in a while is fine, but doing it too often makes your writing sound juvenile.

Read more in my post: Avoiding Repetition with Dialogue Tags

5. Dialogue is Unnatural - Dialogue can be a great way to deliver information to the reader, but you have to be careful about how you do it. For example, let’s say you want to describe the dress your character’s friend is wearing. 

But: “Oh, wow, Rosie! You look so great in this green floral print dress. These spaghetti straps are so cute, and I love the matching green shoes!” 

That’s just now how we speak in real life. You would never say that to someone. Instead, it would be better like this:

Rosie walked in wearing a green floral print dress with matching shoes. “Wow! Spaghetti straps? This is a new look for you. I love it!”

Any time you include important information in dialogue, read it out loud. Act it out if you have to. Ask yourself if it sounds natural. If not, keep it outside of the dialogue.

#3-  Other Common Problems

1. Too Many Cliches - Remember, tropes are good, cliches are bad. Cliches are tropes that have been used the same way over and over again. It’s fine if you want to use a trope like love triangles or “the chosen one,” just find a way to put a fresh new spin on it.

Read more in my post: Tropes, Clichés, & Finding Which  Clichés to Avoid

2. Tense/POV Switching - Make sure you know what tense and POV you’re writing in and stick with it. Yes--there are times when you might choose to include both tenses or first and third person in your story as a storytelling device, but generally speaking you shouldn’t be falling out of third-person into first-person, or going from past tense in one paragraph to present tense in the next.

Read more in my master post: POV & Tense

3. Head Hopping - If you’re writing in first-person, your POV character can only know what they already know, can observe, or are told. If your character is people watching at the mall, they can’t know what another shopper is thinking or what’s happening at home right now unless they’re psychic or there’s some other reason why they know that. If you’re writing in third-person and we’re in Susan’s POV, we shouldn’t go from what she’s thinking to what John right next to her is thinking in one paragraph.

4. Telling vs Showing - Yes, sometimes you need to tell, but a lot of the time you should be showing. “The moon hung high in the sky” isn’t as interesting as “moonlight scattered on the surface of the lake.”

Read more in my post: When “Telling” is Okay

5. No Structure - Good stories fall a general structure beyond just “beginning, middle, and "end.” Stories that are devoid of structure feel disorganized and pointless, which can be another hallmark of amateur writing.

Read more in my post: Basic Story Structure

————————————————————————————————-

Have a question? My inbox is always open, but make sure to check my FAQ and post master lists first to see if I’ve already answered a similar question. :)

[mkkhaikyuu]

Autumn Skies: Chapter 5

previous | chapter 5 | next | masterlist

summary:  You were best friends with Kuroo Tetsurou since middle school. You loved him but he only had eyes for someone else. Years later, you come back to Tokyo as a new person. What do the stars have in store for your relationship?

Autumn Skies Chapter 5: ‘Tis the Season 

warnings: some swearing, lmk if i missed anything

As you walked to class, you stopped by at the restroom real quick to freshen up. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can see dark, albeit faint, circles under your eyes. Your complexion was ashen, lips and cheeks pale and dry from the cold, devoid of the glow that they used to wear. However, thanks to Yaku and Kenma and the coffee, you didn’t feel as weary as you looked.

Fishing out the makeup kit from your bag, you put on some light makeup to make yourself look a little decent. With a touch of foundation, light blush and tinted lip balm, you started to feel more like your old self.

You resumed your journey to your classroom, ready to take on the rest of the day.

Entering the room, your eyes landed upon something that immediately halted you in your tracks, the spring in your step interrupted like a joyous orchestra that abruptly stopped. 

In her seat was Hana, proudly wearing Kuroo’s red track jacket, like she often does. Your thoughts and your heart started to race, making you dizzy. With faltering steps, you made your way to your seat, setting down your bag unceremoniously and plopping down on the chair. 

You could’ve sworn you saw Kuroo’s jacket at the clubroom just mere minutes ago. You almost bit your nails at the thought of Hana or Kuroo overhearing the conversation you had with Kenma and Yaku at the clubroom.

Maybe you were mistaken and the jacket at the clubroom wasn’t Kuroo’s? But the initials on the lining clearly indicated that it was. It was probably just an extra jacket of his, you tried to reassure yourself. 

The door swung open at the teacher’s arrival, pulling you out from your spiral of thoughts. 

As the teacher droned on about some announcement for next week’s exams, your gaze fell upon Hana, then shifted to Kuroo. So far they haven’t been acting out of the ordinary, no indication that either of them ever heard of the conversation. But then again you were in class so you couldn’t tell for sure. Sighing, you willed yourself to push the matter to the back of your mind and just deal with it later. 

---

Later, when your last class for the day ended, you stayed and waited around at the classroom for a bit. For what, you weren’t so sure. Maybe a confrontation from Hana of some sort? A rejection from Kuroo? Maybe just to see if they knew? 

In any case, you wanted to clear the air with them if they ever knew. You had absolutely no intention of getting in the way of their relationship and you wanted them to know that.

You stood awkwardly by the window, hands gripping at the straps of your bag, trying not to make it seem too obvious that you were waiting. Yaku suddenly walks up to you, sending you a questioning look laced with concern, wondering what you were up to. You only gave him a reassuring smile and a slight shake of your head. 

Confused, Yaku also watches as Hana and Kuroo as they gathered up their things. Your other classmates were filtering out of the room one by one, and soon, Kuroo and Hana were ready to go, too, with Kuroo draping an arm around Hana’s shoulders.

You see Kuroo and Hana turn sideways towards you, the anticipation making things seem like they were in slow motion. And you thought, this is it. The moment of truth. The confrontation. 

You braced yourself.

“Hey, aren’t you guys coming to practice?” Kuroo asks, raising his eyebrows.

Huh? 

You looked at the couple disbelievingly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open just slightly. Did you worry yourself over nothing? 

Beside you, Yaku clicked his tongue. “Of course, we are! We’ve got less than a month ‘til the Nationals. We need all the practice we can get.”

Kuroo laughed. “Yeah, we do. Well then, see you guys later!” he says as he and Hana started walking out of the room. Hana quickly gave the two of you a little wave of goodbye.

Once the two were out of sight, you slumped over with relief, hands braced on your knees. You started laughing under your breath both in relief and at how stupid you were for getting worked up about nothing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Yaku asks, slightly creeped out. Standing back up, you fixed your bag and started walking with Yaku following closely behind you.

As you walked to the gym, you told Yaku about Kuroo’s jacket that you found at the clubroom, how Hana was wearing it in class, and how worried you were at the possibility that one or both of them heard everything you talked about at the clubroom earlier.

With a laugh, Yaku told you, “It was probably just one of his extra jackets. You know we have at least two.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, laughing lightly, feeling better because of Yaku’s words. And with that, every bit of concern you had on the matter disappeared.

---

The rest of the week went by in a blur and finally, Saturday, the day of the party was here. However, since the national tournament will take place early in January, that meant that the team spent most of their time practicing at the gym. 

So here you were, cozily wrapped in your favorite jacket, busily keeping score on the team’s practice games against each other. Your eyes fleetingly scanned the expanse of the gym. The boys did their part in helping with the party preparations like they promised. 

Some hanging Christmas decorations in an assortment of colors adorned the walls, placed there by the first years before practice began. A few tables brought in by the rest of the team were lined off to the far side along with a couple of chairs and benches. The rest of your party essentials were waiting at the clubroom. You and Hana, meanwhile, were in charge of the food and beverages.

Last night, your hands were full with baking a bunch of festive desserts: a cake, some cookies, and an apple pie specially made for Kenma. You couldn't wait until practice ended so the party could begin. The thought of all the delicious food you were going to have later made you hungry.

---

Finally, practice was over. The boys immediately freshened up and changed into clean clothes and you and Hana took this opportunity to finish preparing for the party.

Opening the door of the gym, the cold winter breeze kissed the skin on your face, making you shiver.

A light dusting of snow covered the surroundings outside, and the afternoon sun bathed the white blanket of snow in a fusion of pink, purple, and orange sunset colors until it disappeared under the horizon.

Hana was busy dressing the tables for the season with festive tablecloths and placemats. You, on the other hand, went to get the midsized Christmas tree from the clubroom. 

You set the tree near the tables and fussed around with its ornaments until you were satisfied. Once you were done with that, you went to and from the clubroom to fetch the gifts and place them under the tree. Some of the boys started helping out wherever they can as well; cleaning up the gym, helping you transport all the food and drinks from the clubroom to the tables at the gym, hanging Christmas lights on the wall, and setting up the speaker.

Little by little, the stars peeked out from their hiding spot in the winter blue skies and glittered above you as you carried the last of the food to the gym.  A Christmas song could be faintly heard coming from the gym, getting louder as you got closer.

On regular days, nighttime signaled the culmination of the day’s activities in the form of an exhale as things winded down. In the holiday season, however, the arrival of nighttime serves as a cue that the festivities were just about to begin. Sometimes the shorter days and longer nights of winter were comforting, you suppose. 

The boys were already seated around the table once you arrived back at the gym. The cacophony of idle chatter and laughter from the team rose above the music blasting from the speakers and you smiled to yourself as you set the last tray of food down at the table.

“OH! LOOK AT ALL THESE FOOD!” yells Lev, making Yaku hit him lightly on the head for being so loud.

“Man, I’m starving! Can we eat now?” Yamamoto also says.

Coach Nekomata and Coach Naoi just laughed at them, waiting for your cue. Knowing that they were starving after a brutal practice session, you didn’t wait any longer to tell them that they could start eating. And with that, the hungry volleyball players dug into the assortment of food like they hadn’t eaten in days. 

You sat between Yaku and Kenma while Kuroo and Hana sat across from you.

“Cam I fweafe hafe fome feherts mow?” Lev asked after some time, as he chewed his food.

“Lev! Don’t talk when your mouth is full! That’s disgusting!” Yaku scolds him.

“You’ll get to eat them after your play,” you snickered. “You did practice, right?” 

Kenma snorted beside you while Kuroo laughed. Yamamoto and the first-years blanched, regretting ever bringing up a play when you were planning for the party. It was originally Yamamoto’s idea and he had Fukunaga and the first-years to play along. But Yamamoto was not one to back down.

“Lev, hurry up! Let’s get the play going!” he announces and gets up. Inuoka, Shibayama, Teshiro looked at each other as they reluctantly stood up. Fukunaga, ever one to go with the flow, just ambles along.

“W-wait!” Lev quickly gulped down his juice then scrambled to where Yamamoto and the others were gathered.

A few minutes later, they emerged from behind the curtains of the stage. Yamamoto donned a Santa Claus costume. Fukunaga was a Christmas tree, and Inuoka, Shibayama and Teshiro were reindeers. Lev, however...

“Is he supposed to be a snowman?” Kuroo turned to ask you incredulously, his finger pointing towards Lev. 

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” you shrugged.

“Oi, Lev! This is Christmas, not Halloween!” Yaku yelled.

“Maybe he’s the spirit of Christmas?” Kai asked.

By this point, everyone at the table was snickering at how Lev looked more like a ghost than a snowman.

“S-shut up! I’m a snowman!” Lev announces.

“Oi, Lev, your line!” Yamamoto scolds him.

“Oh, right!” 

And so, the play began. 

It was chaos up on the stage. You have no idea whether they actually practiced a script or they were just winging it on stage. 

At the moment, Fukunaga was riding on the back of Inuoka across the stage while Yamamoto, who was Santa Claus, was having a candy cane sword fight with Lev. Off to the side of the stage, Shibayama and Teshiro, the rest of the reindeers, were dancing lousily with their tambourines to the tune of Jingle Bell Rock. It was a mess.

Kuroo and Yaku were laughing so hard that they started tearing up, banging their fists on the table. 

“Kenma, you should’ve joined them.” Coach Nekomata said as he laughed mirthfully, to which Kenma, who was already happily munching on a slice of apple pie, frowned.

The thought of Kenma joining in on the chaos that was happening onstage only made the rest of you laugh harder. 

“I would never,” Kenma mutters.

“Kuroo, you should probably stop them now before they end up hurting themselves,” you tell him, although you were laughing at the play yourself.

“Right, right,” Kuroo concedes, shaking his head as he tried to calm down from the laughter.

“Aww but this is so much fun!” Yaku said, “But yeah, we can’t allow any injuries,” he sighed regretfully.

With that, Kuroo stood up, “Oi! What the hell are you guys doing? You’re going to hurt yourselves!” The boys immediately listened to their captain and stopped, embarrassed. 

Shaking your head, you excused yourself, telling them that you’ll be right back.

You ran to the clubroom to get the yule log cake that you made as a surprise for the team. Yule log cakes were apparently eaten for good luck and you wanted to wish your team good luck for the upcoming tournament.

You slid the door to the clubroom open halfway and went in. You didn’t bother to turn on the lights in the room as there was enough light coming from the lamppost outside to allow you to maneuver.

You pulled the box of cake carefully from the paper bag you hid it in on the shelf. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

---

Unbeknownst to you, Kuroo also made his way to the clubroom when he found out that you went out. Ever the perceptive guy, he had the sneaking suspicion that you had a surprise planned out and went to check and maybe help you out. 

When he got to the clubroom, he wondered why it was dark. But the door was open so he guessed that you were there. Peeking in, he watched as you reached up to get something on the shelf.

Smirking, he went to sneak up behind you to scare you, like he always did when he sees the perfect opportunity.

You were so focused on not dropping the cake and being too excited to present it to the team that you failed to notice Kuroo approaching until he was right behind you.

Kuroo reached his hands out to place over your eyes when you suddenly whirled around to face whoever was about to get you. Kuroo wasn’t expecting you to notice and he ended up poking you in the eye.

"Ow! Fuck!" you hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut and stayed still, leaning against the shelf, careful not to make any sudden movements that could ruin the cake you were holding.

"Shit, y/n, I'm sorry!" Kuroo said frantically. He held your face in his hands as he tried to get a good look at your eye which he accidentally poked. You blinked your eyes furiously to rid of the uncomfortable sensation. 

"I’m so sorry," he whispers, trying to calm you down. 

He was so close, closer than you two ever were before. The proximity made it hard for you to breathe. Your skin burned in the places he touched, a striking contrast to the winter chill that surrounded you. It looked almost like he was going to kiss you.

“N-no, I’m fine,” you tell him, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. You tried to shrug him off with a shake of your shoulders but he wouldn’t budge.

“Please, let me take a look. I shouldn’t have done tha-”

“Kuroo?” All of a sudden, brightness flooded the room and Hana stood by the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Hana! It’s not what it looks like!” Kuroo immediately stepped away from you, explanations spilling from his lips. “I tried to scare her and accidentally poked her in the eye!”

Hana looks over at you and hums. “I see. Well then, let’s all go back to the party. Everyone’s waiting.”

With that, she turns around and walks out.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” Kuroo apologizes a final time, rubbing the back of his head, before following after Hana.

With a sharp exhale, you also headed back to the gym, turning off the lights and closing the door to the clubroom. 

You didn’t miss the way Hana looked at you. There was a silent warning behind that stare. Sighing, you cursed Kuroo and his foolishness. 

taglist is still open!

disclaimer: kuroo tetsurou, haikyu!! and other haikyu!! characters belong to haruichi furudate.

a/n: Merry Christmas! 

💖: @elianetsantana @literaleftist  @yeehawslap @starry-magicshop @atsunflower @saturnfarie @sakurahoshizora @kellyyween @donica95 @kyomihann  @roseestuosity @brattyshirabuismybff @rirk-ke @-doublezero @yafriendlyfangirl @kagebunshiin @julie-ackerman  @acsycharm @fmwaifu @piii-chan @melodyofroses @kageyamakock @postsfromthe6 @chrisrue15​ 

[angelsfalling16]

The Way You Wear That Dress

Inspired by the song Dress by Charlotte Sands

Part of the 20 First Kisses Series

Summary: It's the beginning of eighth year, and Simon can't find Baz at the Welcome Back Picnic, so he goes in search of him. What he finds is unexpected and makes him rethink everything he has ever felt for Baz.

Word Count: 2150

If you want to know what I imagined Baz’s outfit looking like, here are the links to the dress and the boots! (I love the idea of Baz in these boots and have used them in a couple of fics now.)

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

It’s the beginning of eighth year, and I’m pretty sure Baz is already up to something. He isn’t at the Welcome Back picnic with everyone else, so I decide to go in search of him and stop whatever scheme he’s about to put into motion.

I start with our room, wondering if maybe he decided to go back up there, but the room looks the same as it always is at the beginning of term. My side is devoid of any personal items since I didn’t have anything I felt like bringing back from the care homes (not that I really had anything there). Baz’s side is immaculate, all of his things neatly put away in their respective places, filled but not cluttered.

I move over to the window to look out at the school. It seems empty right now with everyone else out at the picnic. My eyes skate over the courtyard where, not long ago, the first years’ fates were sealed by the Crucible. I only hope none of them were given as evil a roommate I was.

My gaze continues over the grounds for anyone who isn’t out on the lawn, and after a minute of searching I catch movement on the ramparts.

It could be anyone, but I know it’s him.

I turn away from the window and head back down the stairs and away from Mummers House. I quickly but quietly make my way to where Baz is, not wanting to scare him off before I can figure out what he’s up to but also wanting to get to him before he disappears again.

I come to a stop several feet away from where he stands on the ramparts. It isn’t what he’s doing that causes me to freeze, though. It’s what he’s wearing.

At first, I wonder if he has decided to don the Watford-issued cape for his final year, but then I realize that the swishing of cloth around him isn’t a cape. It’s a dress.

The dark green material falls to just above his knee in the front, giving just a glimpse of his thighs, but in the back, it nearly grazes the ground. At the top, around Baz’s shoulders and chest and around to his back, the material is sheer with interwoven lace, allowing his pale, grey skin to show through. He wears the dress like it’s nothing, like it was made specifically for him. (Knowing Baz, it probably was).

My eyes follow the line of his dress down to his things and knees, but where I expect to see the rest of his legs – his muscular football calves – I’m met with the sight of knee-high boots that are laced up the back and have a heel that adds at least two inches to two inches Baz already has over me.

I can’t seem to stop staring at his outfit, but I finally manage to force my eyes back up, and that’s when I notice Baz’s hair.

For the first time since I’ve met him, Baz is wearing his hair down with no products slicking it back away from his face. Instead, it’s being pushed back by a thin headband, silver like his eyes, that still allows his hair to fall in natural waves around his face.

Suddenly, my mouth is dry and my throat feels tight. I try to form words in my head, but my mind is blank. All I can think is, legs. And that’s when I know that I’m fucked.

How is it that Baz looks so good in a dress? He should look ridiculous. I should want to ridicule him for it. Instead, all I can do is stare and hope that he doesn’t turn and find me staring at him.

For a full minute, my eyes slowly drag up and down his body, taking it all in, before I force myself to look away, not wanting to get caught staring at him. Inevitably, though, my eyes are drawn back to him. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s really him. I just can’t reconcile this version of Baz with the version I’ve known for seven years. He looks so different, but he also looks very much like himself. Possibly even more like himself than he ever has. (If that makes sense.)

I wonder what happened to him this summer. It’s like there was a shift somewhere within him that made him act and dress differently. I just don’t know what it is.

He is dressed so femininely, but he still holds this masculinity about him, and the whole thing is driving me crazy. He pulls it off so effortlessly.

He’s dripping with confidence as he leans his arms on the ramparts, a lit cigarette hanging between his fingers.

I know the smart thing to do would be to turn away and leave him be, but doing what’s smart has never really been my strong suit.

I take a few steps towards him even though I haven’t consciously made the decision to do so. I feel drawn to him like a string is pulling me towards him, and as I draw nearer, I notice a glossiness to his lips, as if he’s spread lip gloss or something over them.

I want to hit him. Why does he always look so good? It’s annoying. 

My eyes fall back to the dress he’s wearing, and I can only imagine what other people might think if they saw him like this. For starters, he’s out of uniform, and also, he looks bloody well perfect, like nothing he wears will ever make him look bad.

I briefly consider going to find the mage and telling him what Baz is wearing, but breaking dress code isn’t enough to get him kicked out of school. Plus, I’m not sure I want to share this side of Baz with anyone else.

I’m not sure why but it probably has a lot to do with the fact that Baz has obviously chosen a place away from everyone else, maybe so they won’t see him like this and judge him for it. But it could be something else holding me back. Something like this desperate need I’m feeling to put my hands on him.

I want to push him up against the wall and…and…. That’s where my thoughts cut off because usually when I push Baz against the wall, I want to punch him, but today, that’s not what I want. I don’t want to fight him. I want to…

I shake my head. I can’t finish that thought, can’t think about what it means.

And yet…

An image pops into my head of my hands on his hips, rubbing against the luxurious material of the dress he’s wearing. Of my hands in his hair, tangling in it. Of his breath on my cheek. Of the feeling of his glossed lips on mine. Of the moment he starts to kiss me back and--.

And I shake my head again.

I won’t lie and say that I don’t want any of that, but I can’t be foolish enough to allow myself to hope for it. Nothing has changed. Baz still hates me, and he’d laugh in my face if he found out that I want to kiss him.

Because I do. Want to kiss him, that is. And it’s not just because of the dress. I think that was just the thing that pushed me to finally admit how I feel. How I’ve felt for a long time.

But Baz will never feel the same way about me.

I should go. I can’t let him catch me practically drooling at the sight of him in that dress.

I turn away from him, but I turn too quickly and trip on my own feet, cursing loudly as I try to catch myself.

“Simon?” Baz says behind me.

“Uh…” I say stupidly, picking myself up off the ground and slowly turning to face him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, you w-weren’t at the picnic. I came looking for y-you,” I stutter out as my face flushes red.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” he says, and his voice sounds strangled.

He drops the cigarette to ground and grounds it out with the toe of a boot that probably costs more than everything I have ever owned. That sight shouldn’t make me even more attracted to him, but it does.

He turns one of his usual sneers on me and snaps something snarky at me, probably the beginning of chewing me out for following him, but I barely hear a word he says because I’m so mesmerized by the way he looks. Also, the sound of his voice is somewhat soothing, even with the biting words that no doubt spill from his glossy lips. I missed hearing it while we were away for the summer.

He’s looking at me expectantly now, like he’s waiting for me to answer a question I didn’t hear, and I feel myself blush even deeper.

What the hell is wrong with me? This is Baz. He’s just wearing a dress. I shouldn’t be acting this weird around him.

That’s when I see his nails, colored all black, a glossy sheen to them, and that’s the last straw.

I can’t possibly think straight anymore, so I push all thoughts from my mind and move to close the distance between us. Careful not to mess up the dress, I shove him up against the wall but stop just before our lips meet.

The heels of his boots cause him to tower over me even more than usual, but I’m not bothered by it. I actually kind of love it.

His mouth is parted as if I stopped him mid-word, and the tips of his ears are turning pink. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though. I’ve never been very good at reading people, especially not when it’s Baz.

“If you’re going to punch me, get it over with already, Snow,” he sneers.

“You called me Simon before,” I say.

“No, I didn’t.”

I shrug. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is, “I don’t want to punch you. Far from it actually.”

He hasn’t pushed me away yet, and my confidence starts to build. Maybe Baz would be more receptive to this than I originally thought. 

I keep one hand on his hip to keep him pinned to the wall and move the other one up to cup the side of his face.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, hesitantly. He nods, so I move my hand up higher, into his hair. My hand slides over the headband and combs through his hair. “What about this?” I ask, my voice breathy and barely audibly.

He nods again.

My eyes drop down to his mouth, and I want to try one more thing, but I don’t want to push my luck. I don’t want to risk trying too much and losing it all.

“Just do it,” Baz whispers as though he read my mind.

I cock my head at him in a question, uncertain whether he actually means what I think he does. Then he says “kiss me” so I quietly I almost don’t hear him. But I do hear him, and it only takes me a beat to lean forward and press my lips firmly to his.

The kiss is everything I imagined and more. His lips taste like cherry cola, and I feel drunk on the taste of him. Like I’ve lost all sense. (And maybe I have since I’m kissing Baz of all people.)

It only takes a moment for Baz to begin kissing me back, his arms coming up to wrap around me and pull me closer. I can feel the dress move along his body as he moves under my hand, and I feel lucky that I get to experience this. It’s a shame that he’ll only be wearing the uniform after this.

I wonder if he would even want to wear this dress in front of other people if he could.

I like the way he looks in it, but I obviously wasn’t meant to see him like this. Does he like wearing the dress? Is he afraid of what other people might think? Has he worn it before?

I have a million questions, but now is not the time to ask. If Baz wants to talk to me about his choice to wear the dress, I’ll be there to listen. But I won’t pressure him into talking about it.

So, for now, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

I’m going to enjoy this while I can. Having Baz in my hands and not fighting with him. This is so much better than fighting, I think, and I continue to kiss him, thinking about how this may be the best year at Watford yet.

[officerjennie]

A Hopeful Hesitance

CW: None

Rating: T

Summary: Jaskier isn't sure a picnic date with Valdo is the best idea, nor is he sure if he should trust the hope blossoming in his chest - but he wants to believe that, just maybe, this could work.

Thanks once again to @jaskierswolf for looking this over for me

Jaskier still hesitated. Every step of the way, he hesitated, from when he slipped into his cute new sandals to the moment he stepped out of his car with the bottle of wine Valdo had requested he bring. His big blue sunglasses tinted the world a cooler shade but they did nothing for the sweltering heat that wasn’t even on the forecast for that afternoon - no surprise there, really; weatherman were the best and worst of liars - and Jaskier already found himself sweating as he made his way out of the parking lot and towards the park.

It had been a while since he’d been here. A quaint little place, with a nice sized pond that currently had a bunch of ducks and geese floating around in it. Jaskier thought the ducks were cute but steered clear of the geese that had waddled up onto the grass, keeping a massive distance as one eyed him like he was the perfect beating bag for its wings.

Some people called him stupid, which he took exception to despite the occasional questionable decision he made. But Jaskier was far from suicidal. He’d leave it to Lambert to fuck with the geese.

As far as he remembered, they were supposed to meet on the far side of the pond. According to Valdo it would be cooler there - Jaskier had his doubts - and since most people would be there with their kids they’d be at either one of the big gazebos filled with picnic tables or they’d be nearer to the playground and the basketball court that was right next to the park.

Jaskier had his doubts about that as well. He made a face at the pavement as he followed the walking path towards the other side of the park, wondering not for the first time if this was really such a good idea.

They’d been at odds with each other for so long. At each other’s throats during the worst of it. Could they really be anything...more?

He was a romantic but there were some dreams even he was afraid to dream.

Sunlight reflected blindingly off the surface of the pond, Jaskier having to shield his eyes with one hand even despite his sunglasses. He was sweating and he hated it. Even the light shawl he wore over his tank top was almost too much though he would be loath to take it off. Without it he’d be so devoid of color and sometimes fashion was worth the pain.

At least he reached the trees soon enough. The path wove into a nice little cove of maples and pines and shielded him much better than his hand could do, the temperature dropping immediately to something Jaskier could at least stand to be in. It had always been more the sun itself than heat that had bothered him, anyway.

He wasn’t the first to arrive, surprisingly. Jaskier caught sight of a familiar derriere and slowed down, taking a moment to smirk and admire it from afar. His rival turned friend turned...whatever they were now, whatever they would be, was bent over, shaking out a blanket as he tried to straighten it on the ground.

A blanket, right. Jaskier blinked, his smirk fading - Valdo had brought a blanket for them. It was a cute one, too, from what he could see. Red swirling patterns, not some plain, boring old shitty thing he’d expected Valdo to bring. If he’d expected him to bring one at all. The hesitation came back but it was mostly born of not wanting to hope, of being afraid to give that spark any kindling, but Jaskier squashed the hesitation for the moment as he’d done so many times already that day.

One chance wouldn’t kill him. A little bit of hope wouldn’t crush him. And some free food would make just about anything worthwhile.

“Careful, I might take that as an invitation,” Jaskier teased out as he got closer, practically smelling the scowl that immediately scrunched up Valdo’s face at the tease. But Valdo ignored him long enough to straighten out his blanket, straightening up and pushing his bangs out of his face, and he most certainly sent Jaskier one pinched scowl.

It wasn’t one of his really heated ones, though. Over the years Jaskier had learned to read his expressions better than he knew any others, able to tell whenever his jabs hit home, when his teasing was taken lightly or to heart. He knew him better than any lover he’d ever taken in the past, and yet…

And yet they had never been that to each other.

Would they really work like that?

“Good, you brought the wine.” Valdo waved his hand towards the basket he’d brought himself-

-and wasn’t that yet another thing that had Jaskier pausing, blinking, because he’d brought a basket. Valdo was not the type to own a picnic basket, he was sure of it, so did he...buy one? Just for this occasion? Just for a small, little date between former rivals?

“I can remember to bring one item, Valdo.” The retort wasn’t as barbed as it should have been, nor was it all that good. Jaskier breezed past him to settle down on the blanket, hoping to act like he wasn’t all that concerned with their banter - but his heart was fluttering away in his chest, a traitorous rhythm.

“We all know how your memory can get, Julian.”

“And we all know how you never know what on earth to wear- are you wearing long pants in this weather?” Jaskier stared incredulously at the other man as he settled down onto the blanket near him. Very near him. He tried to focus on anything but his hands, those long finger and beautiful wrists, as Valdo brought the basket near and started raffling through the items he’d brought with him. It was an assortment of cheese, crackers, preserves, some salami, and other finger foods.

Things Valdo could have gotten in a single prepackaged deli tray, that he’d instead picked out by himself. An assortment, so many different choices, as if Valdo had looked at all the store had and decided he couldn’t decide at all.

Jaskier’s heart fluttered some more. His fingers itched to know how smooth Valdo’s cheek was, to scratch through his beard, to find out if his lips were chapped or not. All things he’d been telling himself to not think of for so long he’d convinced himself he didn’t want to know - but he did.

“Jaskier.”

His eyes snapped to focus at his name - Jaskier, not Julian, and he could count on one hand the number of times Valdo had used the name he preferred - and it almost hurt to see the careful look Valdo had schooled his face into. Those deep green eyes were closed off, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly, his lips becoming a thin line as he prepared for something. But for what?

“You don’t have to be here.” Valdo sighed, something like bitterness flashing across his face, and Jaskier ached at it. “This is- this doesn’t have to…” The poor man floundered, almost twitching with agitation.

Valdo had never been any good with positive emotions, or he’d never seemed to know how to show or process them as well as the others. Jealousy, anger, bitterness, those had always come so naturally, had always shown so clearly on his face - but joy, tenderness, contentment, those were all things Jaskier had rarely if ever seen on him. And for the longest time he’d thought it was because Valdo didn’t know those things but there was a vulnerability to the slump of his shoulders, a resignation to his lower tone that made that damned hope flutter up in Jaskier’s chest.”

It was far too hot to even be outside, let alone be close to someone, but Jaskier braved the heat and the distance. He reached out and took a gentle hold of one of Valdo’s hands, daring not to look up at him, though he at least finally pushed his sunglasses up and away from his eyes as he studied the stock still fingers now resting in his hand.

Valdo had planned this. Had gotten together a basket full of food that they wouldn’t at all be able to finish in one sitting, had gotten a lovely, colorful blanket for the occasion (because there was no convincing Jaskier he had own anything of the sort before this), and had dressed himself up in nice black pants and a nice shirt to meet with him in some small park next to a lake surrounded by trees and dandelions.

He was trying. And if he was trying then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to give him the smallest, most minuscule benefit of the doubt and believe that Valdo wasn’t going to crush his heart to dust when this was all over. If it was ever over. If it ever actually began, whatever it was.

“Valdo,” Jaskier sighed out, holding his fingers gently and caressing them with the rough pad of his thumb. A breeze rolled past through the trees and ruffled his curls and Jaskier could almost pretend he could smell all of the free food he’d been promised - if only it weren’t still neatly tucked away into all of its packaging. He still thought it would be more romantic if he could smell it. “I drove halfway across the city to come meet you, you know that right?”

“I know where you live, yes.”

Jaskier’s eyes flicked up to catch the pinched, thoughtful look on Valdo’s face, finding it still guarded as if he wasn’t sure where Jaskier was going. And perhaps Jaskier should have been extra nice to him but he couldn’t help himself, no matter how his heart fluttered away, no matter that he slid their hands together until their fingers were intertwined, and no matter that he never wanted to let go even if their palms were sweating against each other.

He wondered if their hearts were beating the same erratic rhythm intandem.

“If you made me drive all of this way,” he said, shooting his once rival and once friend a look he hoped would get his point across quite firmly, “just to tell me this isn’t a date, I am going to personally go through all of your music notes and spill ink onto every other note.”

Valdo stared at him for a breath, and then snorted, an ugly noise that made his whole face scrunch up in a very undignified fashion - and it made Jaskier desperately want to kiss his wrinkled nose. “Every other note? There has to be a more efficient method, Julian.”

Those long fingers squeezed Jaskier’s and he squeezed back, winking at his once friend, now date. “No better way to infuriate you than to waste my time and yours.”

“Better ways to get my attention, Julian, since we both know that’s what you’ve always been after.”

“Wha-” Jaskier started, huffing and sputtering that Valdo’s attention had not been what he’d been after, but it was impossible to form a coherent argument when the wine he’d brought had been expensive, the shawl brand new, and that with each passing banter he drew himself closer to the man who used to infuriate him more than any other.

--

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[fierceawakening]

Weird question. How do you get good at topping and domming?

Okay, so, this ask. I’ve been sorting out my thoughts on this one for a while, because (probably no big secret) I personally spent a lot of my time when I first got into the Scene panicking that I wasn’t Domly Enough, and this was Not Useful to anyone, really. 

So part of me just wants to pat you and tell you it’s fine, because it’s fine. 

If the person you’re topping likes you and wants to Do The Kink with you, they will probably enjoy the kink with you, even if your Intimidation score is far from maxed.

If they only seem to care about how high your Intimidation score is, they might be a jerk, or they might be more interested in the kink than the you which isn’t necessarily terrible but probably means you should both be playing with some other human.

Okay, that done:

First of all: what are you looking to get better at? 

If it’s “how do I swing this object and hit a butt and not a hip bone,” then there are a lot of manuals out there and pre-covid there were a lot of classes out there. Which have probably morphed into a lot of webinars. You may want to look up your local kink scene and involve yourself just for the classes (assuming here you don’t want to do the social bits, but it’s fine if you do. Don’t assume any kink scene will be devoid of drama, and do whatever you’re comfortable with from there, would be my rule of thumb.)

If you’re looking to practice technique on your own, beat up your pillows! They’re fluffy and you can see where exactly you hit and they’re pillows so they won’t complain. :-)

If it’s “how do I project a demeanor,” that’s often difficult for a lot of people, particularly woman-aligned people. Many Years Ago I went to a class on femdom taught by Fetish Diva Midori, and that’s one of the first things she mentioned--there’s a cultural trope/Thingy about what “a dominatrix” is, and while many of us who are interested in topping may vibe with or want to emulate some bits of it, it’s REALLY common for toppy womanish things to not relate to other bits of it or even be very put off by some of them. (I remember personally feeling pressured to present less masc, because that image is very Danger Femme, and eventually just feeling really burnt out. I also don’t like the strong humiliation stuff... embarrassing a partner who I know is going to be turned on is hot to me because EE THEY’RE BLUSHING AND ALSO HORNY, LOOK WHAT I DID! but actually belittling someone just, ew no. Acting like I’m not into it, also ew no. Why would I be doing it if it wasn’t a turn on for me?!)

What I remember from that class is: What makes you feel powerful? What things do you see, whether in media or stories or whatever, that strike you as Sexy and Powerful? There are a lot of archetypes you can look at and draw from. In the class, Midori changed outfits, from a sexy latex dress to an army uniform type thing to a Professor/Teacher type thing. And the different people in the class had different reactions. I remember one person who hadn’t really said much about the other outfits giving this little “oh!” gasp at the teacher one.

So... we respond to different things, and different things make us feel powerful. I remember feeling a lot more confident in general once I’d started RPing TFP Megatron online, whether or not I was doing smut--it’s a powerful character that I really liked, masculine so I didn’t feel uncomfortable, etc. And whether or not I was actually pretending to be Megs when I was with my GF (usually not), some of what I’d done to develop that persona helped me to feel more on point when we were doing the kinky stuff.

So... think about yours. What’s fun for you? What powerful characters do you like? What things might you incorporate from that, even if you’re not role-playing them?  Are there things they might say or ways they might say them that are sexy or make you feel sexy? Etc.

Some people may not Get It, esp. if they’re expecting that Dominatrix archetype, but... someone will, and whoever that is, that’s the person you’re gonna have the most fun with.

[introvertguide]

Duck Soup (1933); AFI #60

The next film on the AFI top 100 is a throwback to before the Golden Age of Hollywood when "talkies" were new, Duck Soup (1933). This film was the last attached to a 5 feature contract that the Marx Brothers had with Paramount pictures. It was moderately well received at the time but has since become the most critically acclaimed of the Marx Brothers films. The movie is only 68 minutes and is absolutely packed with gags. It is not, however, packed with a storyline or plot. I want to very briefly go over the summary because that is not what this movie is known for. Let's unnecessarily start with...

SPOILER ALERT? THIS MOVIE HAS NO PLOT. IT IS ALL ABOUT SITE GAGS AND SET PIECES. READ AWAY!!! IT WILL NOT DO ANYTHING TO HURT THE EXPERIENCE!!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The film starts off with the wealthy Mrs. Teasdale (Margaret Dumont) insisting that a man that she is sweet on, Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho), be appointed leader of the small, bankrupt country of Freedonia before she will continue to provide much-needed financial aid. Meanwhile, neighboring Sylvania is attempting to annex the country. Sylvanian ambassador Trentino (Louis Calhem) tries to foment a revolution and to woo Mrs. Teasdale, and he tries to dig up dirt on Firefly by sending in spies Chicolini (Chico) and Pinky (Harpo).

After failing to collect useful information against Firefly, Chicolini and Pinky are able to infiltrate the government when Chicolini is appointed Secretary of War after Firefly sees him selling peanuts outside his window. Meanwhile, Firefly's secretary, Bob Roland (Zeppo), suspects Trentino's motives, and he advises Firefly to get rid of Trentino by insulting him. Firefly agrees to the plan, but after a series of personal insults exchanged between Firefly and Trentino, the plan backfires when Firefly slaps Trentino instead of being slapped by him. As a result, the two countries come to the brink of war. Adding to the international friction is the fact that Firefly is also courting Mrs. Teasdale, and, like Trentino, hoping to get his hands on her late husband's wealth.

Trentino learns from his femme fatale spy, Vera Marcal (Raquel Torres), that Freedonia's plans of war are in Mrs. Teasdale's safe and tells her to assist Chicolini and Pinky in stealing them. Chicolini is caught by Firefly and put on trial, during which war is officially declared, and everyone is overcome by war frenzy, breaking into song and dance. Chicolini and Pinky join Firefly and Bob Roland in anarchic battle, resulting in general mayhem.

After a fierce battle, the end of the film finds Trentino caught in a makeshift pillory, with the Brothers pelting him with fruit. Trentino surrenders, but Firefly tells him to wait until they run out of fruit. Mrs. Teasdale begins singing the Freedonia national anthem in her operatic voice and the Brothers begin hurling fruit at her instead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are many exceptionally good and bad aspects of this film. On the good side, there are a couple of amazing set pieces that the Marx Brothers did like no other. The mirror scene in which Groucho and Harpo stand in front of each other and Harpo perfectly mimics his brother's movements was outstanding. Specifically, there is a point where Groucho stands outside the reflection and moves in a ridiculous way past what he thinks is a reflection. The mirroring between the brothers is exceptional. Add in the same dressing gown and cap to the actual resemblance (they are full actual brothers) makes for quite an effect. This mirror gag was first done on film by Charlie Chaplin almost 15 years earlier, but this is likely the most well known and best done example of the bit by real people. It was repeated by Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, The Pink Panther, Tom and Jerry, Scooby-Doo, and the Smurfs. That kind of mirror quality action was only repeatable through animation, apparently.

The constant wardrobe changes during the frenzied war scene have caused full speculative articles to be written. Groucho starts out in a Union officer suit, then appears in a Confederate officer suite, then a British palace guard uniform, and then in what looks to be a boy scout officer suit, and finally a Davy Crockett hat? The deep cynicism and anti-war sentiment of the brothers was blatant. It is summed up by the line "while you're out out there risking life and limb through shot and shell, we'll be in here thinking what a sucker you are." The United States had just gotten out of a war and many militaristic leads felt the need to show off. This lack of care after feeling so dominant following WW1 was the mindset that in part led to the Stock Market crash and the Great Depression. There was turmoil brewing in Europe and many Americans wanted nothing to do with it after seeing so many young boys getting ripped apart by trench warfare and machine gun fire. The brothers were satirizing all of those figures that we use to teach boys to want to fight for their country. They also went after what they believed were the causes of many wars: money and moral indignation between powerful men.

Although the film gives the audience insight into the mindset of much of the population during those extremely turbulent times between wars, it also boasts some of the most unsophisticated humor of a new visual medium. The silly songs do not translate well and sound like something created by a child. With truly clever artists like Frank Zappa, the Dead Kennedys, and national treasure Weird Al Yankovic, the Marx Brother's songs just sound lame to me. I think the same of Groucho's one liners. With comedians like Mitch Hedberg, Paula Poundstone, Steven Wright, and Jimmy Carr, the work of Groucho Marx feels seriously dated and quite cringy.

The real let down for me in this particular film was the fighting between Harpo and the Lemonade salesman. In fact, the character of Pinkie was "The Joker" levels of psychotic. I know he represented the constant undermining of communism. That is fine and makes a good point. Practically speaking, though, he reveled in causing problems for no reason and he was a constant nuisance. I have been around a lot of teachers and they sat that students who act like that are the bane of everyone's existence. It may be witty, but it is not funny. I have seen movies like Borat and Jackass, who are at least very creative in the way they cause problems and mostly harm themselves. I legitimately hate the character of Pinky and find him devoid of any real humor beyond the mirror scene. I also realize that Chicolini is a play on Mussolini, but I didn't really find him funny either. I want to emphasize that these are my opinions and I welcome comments on why Pinkie and Chicolini are hilarious.

There are some things that I do forgive and almost find charming. Directors from the silent film era had to emphasize that their actors over dramatize their lines so that the audience could get even a modicum of tone. This over-the-top dramatic speaking continued with many actors into the era of talking pictures. You can tell that this film was made near the change over because a lot of the actors talk like they are making one continual speech. Just about everyone is projecting for the cheap seats, and I totally appreciate it and smile. I also appreciate that the Marx Brothers absolutely jam pack the film with gags. I don't think many of the gags are funny, but I acknowledge that the movie is 68 minutes of constant jokes and the Marx Brothers made a concerted effort to give their audience the most bang for their buck. Good for them.

So does this movie belong on the AFI top 100? I am actually going to say no. I think that Horse Feathers is a funnier film and has the iconic football scene that got a screen cap on the cover of Time magazine. If the AFI was going to choose a Paramount produced Marx Brothers film, this one seems to me to only be second or third choice of the five. Would I recommend it? Sure. It is definitely dated and the jokes will not make a lot of sense any more, but some of the scenes have become iconic and it is fun to see what has been so heavily referenced in current media. It is a pretty fun movie to sit back and just experience for an hour, so I would give it a shot.