#I almost wish that ZERO was earlier in the show's run so it had more time to influence the lore

[delightful-dorks]

This is the part of the movie that just has me asking questions nonstop... does Monty know his brother lives down the lane normally? Has Benedict ever come down the stairs to find that Monty has wandered in demanding to play checkers with him? Does he try to take him out pubbing? Has he ever lawn flamingo-bombed him for a birthday? He seems to know him and the Delightful Children are there already, has he seen them around but never connected the dots? Knows they're there but also knows he cut contact a long time ago??

[warriorsfireandwater]

Warriors Analysis 2: A Breakdown of the Crow/Night/Breeze Family Dynamic

I said I would do it, so here we are. The big doozy. For this one, I’m going to putting all of the sourced scenes in a linked google doc, because I just don’t want to make this post a million miles long. Instead, for this post, I will sum up all of the conclusions made after reviewing every scene involving the family from Po3 through OotS, with other relevant information from other books included.

Context of this one: I’ve watched (and participated in) a lot of debate over this family. Just about every single argument I’ve seen tends to:

1) rely on a person’s opinion of a character overall to how they feel about the family (”I found Nightcloud annoying” often goes along with “Nightcloud is equally bad of a parent” or “Breezepelt was a bad person so I don’t sympathize with him in the family situation”)

2) misremember canon

3) rely on a person’s headcanons of what actually happened to shape their judgement of the family (”Nightcloud spoiled Breezepelt and told him Crowfeather is bad” when there are zero canon scenes of this happening)

Some ground rules: I’m relying on breaking down the canon scenes in the books. I am NOT inserting my own thoughts or beliefs as to what happened behind the scenes. If there’s anything bordering on that (”this behavior implies X”), it’ll be clearly stated that it’s an interpretation. I ask that if you want to comment or debate this analysis that you do the same. People’s headcanons shaping how they remember the family is the thing that frustrated me enough to spend hours digging this up. As a personal request, please don’t use this post to say “Nightcloud still sucks and I hate her”/”Breezepelt still sucks and I hate him”/”neglect isn’t abuse” - the latter is definitively incorrect and is upsetting to hear as a survivor of abuse. “X character still is bad” just takes away from the point of this - which is not to say “Breezepelt is a good person”, but PURELY to breakdown the family dynamic. With that out of the way, let’s GO:

After looking at literally every scene involving Breezepelt, Crowfeather, and Nightcloud and analyzing the ones that involve or mention them as a family, here’s some key points. The scenes that back these points up are included and detailed in this doc.

Breezepaw is introduced to us as a bit aggressive and rude, and his mentor, Whitetail, wishes to Crowfeather that she would teach him manners (earning her no response from him)

We first properly see Nightcloud during the dog attack in The Sight, when Breezepaw returns from checking the barrier. Breezepaw reports that there is no damage, and Crowfeather immediately questions if he actually checked all the way around. Breezepaw tells him “Of course!”, and Nightcloud says that Crowfeather should trust his son more.

This suggests Nightcloud is ready to defend Breezepaw whenever. However, as ThunderClan is leaving, Breezepaw mutters that WindClan can manage on their own. Nightcloud immediately scolds him and compliments Lionpaw for saving Heatherpaw during the battle.

Later, at the daylight Gathering, Lionpaw and Breezepaw are buried underground. Crowfeather and Nightcloud help dig them out, and Breezepaw is not breathing when he comes out. Jaypaw has to pull dirt out of his throat to save his life.

Leafpool says to Crowfeather that she would “give [her] last drop of blood to save [his kit]”. Nightcloud sharply retorts that “our kit was lucky that Jaypaw was here”.

Nightcloud carries Breezepaw away from the scene “like a kit”. Crowfeather offers to help, but she carries him on her own. She does not push him away/force him away/shout at him, she literally just chooses to carry him. Nightcloud spends the rest of the daylight Gathering curled around Lionpaw and Breezepaw and keeping them resting.

We learn these things from the Sight: Breezepaw and Crowfeather seem to have a tense relationship, but that isn’t fully developed. Nightcloud is willing to defend him from Crowfeather’s doubts, but notably does not defend him when he acts like a punk in front of her. She is bothered by Leafpool’s comment about giving her life for Breezepaw (which I personally find pretty reasonable to be bothered by), but counters by giving her gratitude to Jaypaw. She wants to carry Breezepaw after he nearly dies, but isn’t pushing Crowfeather away or denying him anything like many people claim.

In Dark River, Crowfeather encourages Breezepaw’s bias against ThunderClan, telling him that they “celebrate mixed blood” in a tone that implies it as a negative thing. (It seems implied he does this to get to Leafpool, who is upset by his comment.)

Jaypaw is able to feel Nightcloud’s jealous emotions on a few occasions, but she actually never says anything to Leafpool or Crowfeather about it.

In Outcast, Crowfeather is called to go on the journey to the Tribe. Onestar tells him to take Breezepaw, who has gotten in trouble a few times. Breezepaw makes it very plain he doesn’t want to go and worries that his Clanmates are just trying to get rid of him. Crowfeather wants to go, but “sighs” over the idea of taking Breezepaw. To me, he comes off as disinterested and possibly disappointed that he has to bring him. Crowfeather snaps at Breezepaw for asking to say goodbye to his friends, saying “There isn’t time!” even though literally no one is rushing them to leave. Nightcloud comes to say goodbye, but Crowfeather is distant and doesn’t respond to her.

Throughout Outcast, each POV character has at least one (if not many) moments where they think about Crowfeather/Breezepaw and feel pity for Breezepaw, despite really hating him. Hollypaw especially thinks often about how she appreciates Brambleclaw for encouraging and supporting her, and the apprentices all seem to realize that Breezepaw is angry because his father “doesnt seem to like him”. 

When questioning why they have to help the tribe, Crowfeather just tells Breezepaw “You’ll never understand loyalty.”

When they run into Purdy, Breezepaw is pretty rude to him. Crowfeather doesn’t interrupt a single time throughout multiple insults, then reacts by hitting him across the ear without saying anything, which is noted as “a hard blow”.

Breezepaw nearly dies falling off into a ravine after thinking he’s discovered a faster way. Crowfeather pulls him back and snaps at him, expressing no concern for his life. In Eclipse, Crowfeather pointedly does not compliment Breezepaw’s catch of the rabbit, which angers Breezepaw.

During the reveal of Leaf/Crow in the last book, Breezepelt and Nightcloud stand by Crow’s side and don’t publicly turn on him or say anything against him.

This journey gives us a lot of insight into Crow and Breeze’s dynamic. Breezepaw is pretty obviously a little punk throughout this book, but Crowfeather has no healthy way of communicating with him or discipling him. Instead, he snaps at him, hits him, or ignores him, all of which just feeds into Breezepaw’s anger. Nightcloud is not present for any of this and has no way of controlling their interactions here, which could have been a perfect opportunity for Crowfeather to build a relationship with his son if it were true that Night had prevented this.

Breezepelt shows up in Fading Echoes, training in the Dark forest. A few things are made explicit: he is being manipulated by the Dark Forest and Tigerstar’s words have an almost hypnotic effect on him. The cats present egg him on against Crowfeather, feeding into his belief that Crow does not value him. (Side note, I find it really interesting that in this book, Breezepelt has notable value in the warrior code [which encourages his hate towards Crow] and the DF cats encourage this, saying it is “strong” in his blood. Next time we see him, though, he wants to destroy it.)

Flametail randomly thinks about Breezepelt’s family while spending time with Tawnypelt, feeling glad he has nicer kin.

We get the infamous scene where Lion and Breeze fight. Breeze and Crow were both trespassing on ThunderClan territory and Lion caught the prey Breezepelt was about to catch. He intentionally eggs Breezepelt into a fight (rather than just attacking him himself). Leafpool interrupts, asking how Crow can watch this. Nightcloud then shows up and insists Crowfeather has only one son. Leafpool jumps in between them as Breezepelt is leaping for Lionblaze, and she gets clawed. Crowfeather hauls him off and throws him aside, then keeps talking to Leafpool, who tells him she loved him.

Nightcloud then comes over and pulls Crowfeather away from Leafpool. She sinks her claws into his pelt to do this. However, it’s worth noting that this scene contains MANY references to blood every time claws come out - she does not draw blood and he does not express any signal of pain. It’s likely she used her claws only as a means of holding onto him, not to cause him harm. Crowfeather turns on him, and Breezepelt wails before getting between them, telling Crowfeather to leave his mother alone.

Nightcloud doesn’t react rationally in this scene - but neither does any character. Lionblaze is an ass, Breezepelt is an ass, Crowfeather is an ass, and Leafpool is still walking around making declarations of her former love in front of Crowfeather’s wife.

Nightcloud is one of the cats to react rudely to Hollyleaf’s return, but she doesn’t directly attack/challenge her. (This is actually the last time we see Nightcloud.)

The final meaningful scene is in The Last Hope, when Breezepelt fights Lionblaze. Crowfeather intervenes and says he will not allow Breezepelt to hurt him. Breezepelt retorts he always knew Crowfeather hated him, which Crow denies.

“I never hated you!” Crowfeather growled. “That’s just what you were determined to believe. And Nightcloud encouraged you.”

“It’s not her fault!” Breezepelt spat.

“No,” Crowfeather hissed. “I should have done something much earlier...”

This is the first and only time this is blamed on Nightcloud. This is the only indication we have that this could be true.

Some other notable things:

Crowfeather took Nightcloud as a mate to prove his loyalty, not out of love. (This is said in After Sunset: We need to talk)

The Ultimate Guide also confirms the above, but is a questionable source given the many errors included in it. It states that Crowfeather resents Nightcloud (for not being Leafpool), and that Nightcloud coddled Breezepelt. However, the latter is never shown in the story (and the opposite is actually shown when she scolds him).

In Crowfeather’s Trial, Crowfeather is pushed to recognize his anger towards his son and apologize for his behavior towards him and Nightcloud. Even in an entire book from Crow’s perspective (which provides opportunity for memories, flashbacks, etc), there is no indication that Nightcloud actually pushed Breezepelt to hate Crowfeather. There’s a throwaway mention that Crowfeather was too strict or too rough with Breezepelt as a kit, but it’s never actually said that Nightcloud told him this/kept him away/etc. (IE: it’s impossible to say if Nightcloud screamed this at him or asked him once to be gentle. We just don’t know!)

With all this said, here’s my take on the dynamic:

Crowfeather was a neglectful father and an inconsiderate mate. The only scene we get where he seems to actually get along with Breezepaw is when he is encouraging him to dislike ThunderClan by feeding into hatred for “mixed blood” cats. In all other scenes, he: 1) ignores his bad behavior, 2) is unnecessarily harsh to him or dismissive of him, 3) questions and undermines him, 4) does not have healthy ways of addressing his poor behavior (IE, he ignores and turns away from him rather than discussing it when all the apprentices are in trouble and the other warriors are scolding them, he flat-out hits Breezepaw at one point after saying nothing to intervene in his rudeness), and 5) blames Nightcloud for their bad relationship. Crowfeather is provided plenty of opportunities to interact with Breezepaw while Nightcloud isn’t present (in fact, Nightcloud shows up very little - most scenes of the family have just Breeze and Crow, there are many books where Nightcloud isn’t even mentioned).

Nightcloud was literally just being a normal mom and was often pushed to feeling jealous around Leafpool, often because Leafpool doesn’t have any boundaries around hinting about loving Crowfeather for some reason. I was actually really shocked by how... absolutely fuckin brazen Leafpool is 24/7 about waltzing up to Crowfeather while his wife is standing right there and going “just so you know......... i miss you........... i’d give my life for you......” It’s just WEIRD. IMO, it’s pretty damn reasonable for that to make Nightcloud irritated! Most of the time, she never actually voices her jealousy, we just know about it because of Jaypaw’s ability. When she does, it’s sometimes done by complimenting someone else or giving credit to another cat, like when Jaypaw saves Breezepaw. There is zero text in the story supporting the idea that Nightcloud was overbearing or that she spoiled him: we have TWO SCENES where she has character moments around this. In the first, she is defending him from Crowfeather’s doubt, and in the second, she is scolding him for being ungrateful to ThunderClan for their help.

Breezepelt was a kid that grew up feeling unloved, unappreciated, and angry and resentful as a result. The Dark Forest, not Nightcloud, fed into this belief, but we also have a whole lot of scenes that show why that feeling of resentment towards Crowfeather is there to begin with.

The final hot take: If you believe Nightcloud ‘spoiled’ Breezepelt or that she was ‘overbearing and possessive’, you need to reread Po3 and OotS. It’s just not there.

(Bonus: I love Leafpool but god, girl, you need to read a room.)

[spencersawkward]

hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.  

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”

[ahtsumu]

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!” 

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.” 

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.) 

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

[mrskurono]

Aphrodisiac Pt. 1 // ft. Kageyama + Seijoh

tags: drugs/aphrodisiac usage, noncon (Iwaizumi), slight dacryphilia (Kindaichi), vaginal penetration, handjobs, edging, orgasm denial, slight femdom, noncon photography (Oikawa), footjob, degradation, pet talk, creampie, mommy ish kink (Kageyama)

character(s): Tobio Kageyama (hq), Hajime Iwaizumi (hq), Toru Oikawa (hq), Yūtarō Kindaichi (hq)

Tobio Kageyama 

⇾ Oh Tobio

⇾ He thought you were giving him the opportunity to take care of you all strung out and fun

⇾ But the way he downs his spiked little treat is a testament to how much you knew he needed to unwind for a bit 

⇾ The way his face unscrunches and he’s left like a paralyzed star fish on your bed is the cutest thing you’ve seen in a while honestly

⇾ What might be cuter than that?

⇾ Oh the way he keeps trying to get on top of you and grind into you with that desperate excuse of a hard on he’s whimpering about

⇾ He goes from zero affection to climbing all over you in mere minutes that he’s complaining of being warm and tingly

⇾ “My...everything...and warm.”

⇾ Nothing out of his mouth makes sense even if he’s trying to talk, he won’t stop babbling which turns really into a mess of moans even at your slightest touch

⇾ Now though he isn’t fighting your lips ghosting over his neck, or the way you shift your hands under his shirt, no he is willingly leaning into everything you do to him as he moans up a storm

⇾ He can’t have all the fun and with the way he reacted the second your leg brushed over his crotch when you shifted? Clearly something else needed to be taken care of

⇾ Kageyama is completely useless like this save for the energy he keeps to hide his face every time you tell him how cute he is from above 

⇾ Straddling his lap bringing your core against his cock

⇾ His eyes half lidded as his fingers tangle in his own hair and he bites his lip watching you

⇾ “Do you want something?” “How badly does my baby boy want it?” “You’re just so hard like this~”

⇾ All the teasing and Kageyama is a red faced mess as he grinds his hips up into you like it’ll do anything

⇾ Finally you decide to indulge him though, it’s a treat for both of you

⇾ Sinking down on his cock as he stretches you out and hits your deepest parts 

⇾ Kageyama is a mess under you with his jaw slack and a bit of drool oozing from his mouth

⇾ You do him a favor and wipe up his mouth with your thumb but you notice he tries to follow your touch

⇾ As needy as he is you grin and pop your thumb in his mouth, feeling his tongue swirl around your digit and his eyes roll back in his head

⇾ Kageyama is a mess under you each time you shift your hips and grind into him, his sucking piss poor and mostly he’s drooling over your hand

⇾ Instead you pop it out of him mouth and make him watch as you bring your spit covered hand to your clit

⇾ “I’ll get off with your spit, maybe it’ll make me feel all nice and warm too~”

⇾ He is entranced, be it half lidded, by watching you play with yourself on him

⇾ Moving here and there to feel his cock inside you, its for nothing as you deny him most of the pleasure when you bring yourself to an orgasm just by yourself

⇾ The way you tighten around him and your walls flutter like they want to suck all his cum, Kageyama whimpers and tries to rut up into you like he can even move

⇾ “Shhh, you’re next, I’ll make sure you feel good too baby boy.”

Yūtarō Kindaichi

⇾ This idiot will be easy to talk into trying something fun, genuinely it takes one bat of your eyelashes and Kindaichi does what you want even if he doesn’t know how he feels about it

⇾ Show a bit of skin and he’ll do anything ok he can be simple at times

⇾ Kindaichi doesn’t down it like an idiot though he’s apprehensive to eat/drink it too quickly

⇾ Once he gets down to the last part of it though, and he’s feeling pretty warm and fuzzy, then he shoves/drinks the rest of it in him like he forgets he was apprehensive about it

⇾ Skin on fire, words slurred and half lidded Kindaichi wants nothing more than to have your hands on him

⇾ Asking repeatedly for you to touch him even if your hands are already on him

⇾ Not to mention he’s extra talkative, like, there is no way to get him to shut up and he keeps talking no matter what you do

⇾ Real touchy feely which would be annoying, if, it didn’t mean he’s overly sensitive everywhere else

⇾ “I’m feeling so weird....Please, I want more I-” “No no no, I think you’ve had enough silly boy.” “Please.”

⇾ The way he leans up into your touch when you draw your hands down his chest is wonderful, he’s such a pile of putty it’s pathetic 

⇾ Kindaichi will whimper and make the most delightful noises the entire time that it makes it difficult for you not to get turned on

⇾ Luckily the feeling is mutual though as his hard on was visible through his shorts almost the moment he complained about being warm

⇾ “Come here.”

⇾ Like a puppy dog Kindaichi is ready to do anything you want even if his gross motor skills are a little less than perfect

⇾ Completely useless though its up to you to really get what you want, wrapping your legs around his hips when he poorly tries to push himself inside you

⇾ Giggling at him rubbing against you like a horny puppy with little to show for it besides your juices covering his cock and Kindaichi whining about how warm he feels 

⇾ Help him though and he can hardly keep on his knees

⇾ Moaning like a fool as you position him at your entrance and pull him into you with your legs behind him as leverage

⇾ Kindaichi is panting with his arms on either side of you, barely keeping himself up, face red all the way to his ears and lips slightly parted panting 

⇾ You have to remind him to move, encouraging words cooing at him 

⇾ “Go on puppy, move for me.” “Lemme see how much you want it.” “Make me feel how warm you are~”

⇾ His thrusts are sloppy, Kindaichi rutting into you and moaning up a storm, everything on him tingling on fire as he can’t find anything to satisfy it

⇾ You push up against him just to lock your legs around his hips and do the same with your arms around his neck

⇾ Gasping a bit he lays almost entirely on you but his limbs are too heavy to move as he ruts into you with desperation

⇾ “You wanna cum hmm~?” “Please-” “How badly do you wanna cum?” “So badly!”

⇾ The way he overstims himself is adorable as Kindaichi grinds into you, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, chasing his own orgasm like its the last thing on earth

⇾ He just can’t take it anymore, the way you tighten around him and the feeling of your fingertips grazing his neck, there’s no way for him to keep his wits about him

⇾ Kindaichi is a sobbing mess as he buries his face in your neck and can’t help paint your insides white with all his cum

⇾ Sweet talking him all the way through it as you push your hips up to meet his 

⇾ You’d almost be mad if he wasn’t clinging to you for dear life with his cock still buried inside you

⇾ Lucky for you he’s not going soft after just one little fluke~

Hajime Iwaizumi

⇾ You will not, and I repeat, will not get Iwa to take anything willingly.

⇾ But he just looks so stressed lately? Work/College is too much, he’s being stubborn and he just needs to...unwind.

⇾ Iwa doesn’t suspect anything when you bring him his favorite drink

⇾ “It’s open?” “Yeah I took a drink of it can I not?”

⇾ He doesn’t have an issue sharing with his s/o so of course he’ll accept it! You’re not Oikawa so he trusts you at face value

⇾ Your eyes go big as he downs the entire bottle in one go around

⇾ The little something you put in his drink hits him the fastest (what do you expect when he just gulped it down in one breath?)

⇾ “My bodies warm-” “Why are my cheeks flushed?” “Am I sick damn it.”

⇾ Yeah it doesn’t last long before Iwa is silent but the clingiest you’ve ever seen him

⇾ Grabbing at your waist, palming your hips and pressing into you no matter what you do he is draped over you like a giant ragdoll and he is so relaxed

⇾ Unlike some of the others, he isn’t much of a talker all strung out like this

⇾ Actually it’s like he has laser focus and suddenly all he can see is you, tunnel vision to the max

⇾ Has no idea how to help himself though his limbs are so heavy and all he can do is press his lips against your neck thinking he’s kissing on you

⇾ Utterly useless hunk but the tent he pops in his pants the second you move your hands over his chest?

⇾ Well worth it

⇾ Iwa’s moans are immaculate seeing as he normally only keeps to grunts and a few words

⇾ Now though he is red from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears and he has no idea the puddle of mush he is in your hands 

⇾ Grumbling every time your hands run through his hair or touch his face; he wants more but can’t vocalize it

⇾ Taking it into your own hands as his grabby touch and firm grasp on every inch of you is a delightful turn on

⇾ “Shhh, lay back baby it’s fine.”

⇾ Iwa is staring up at you with such a dazed look that it almost makes you wish you did this earlier

⇾ Gripping his sides and grinding down on him is adorable as Iwa’s arms hang above his head, gripping the sheets under him, eyes glazed over staring up at you while he’s unable to move a single muscle in his beautifully toned body

⇾ For someone who’s incredibly fit, he can’t fight anything you want to do to him

⇾ So when you decide you want a little moment to relax yourself, Iwa is a grinning mess the second he feels the warmth of you slit slide up his cock

⇾ He’s so hard it’s almost pathetic

⇾ But the way he feels nestled inside you and he can’t even move his hands up to touch you is such a sight to see

⇾ Iwa is bubbling with moans anytime you shift on his cock, he’s like your own personal toy like this

⇾ Hands pressed to his chest you can go at your leisure riding him, Iwa twisting and turning under you as he stares up at you with a stupid grin

⇾ “Warm.” “Shh I’ll make you feel good too baby.” “Hehe warm all over.”

⇾ You’ll ride him until you feel his abs tense under your palms, a clear cut sign he’s gonna loose it even if he has no idea what’s going on

⇾ “Not yet.”

⇾ You wanna enjoy the fun a little bit more so the moment you pull him out of you, Iwa makes the saddest whimper as his perfect warmth is gone but it’s well worth it as you steal a kiss

⇾ Open mouthed, needy Iwa trying to suck on your tongue, ignoring the fact you just ruined his orgasm, this is well worth how much trouble you’ll get in later

Toru Oikawa

⇾ You can and will convince Toru to eat something, doesn’t matter what it is bc enough goating and he will fucking eat/drink the entire thing at once

⇾ Really you just wanted to see him maybe a little giggly but this, phew, this is another level

⇾ Clingy doesn’t begin to explain him

⇾ Toru is like a puppy dog but with such an inappropriate touch you’re left to wonder if he’s thinking about this all the time but is composed enough not to

⇾ “Kiss, I want a kiss!” “Lemma touch-” “I’m so tingly everywhere~”

⇾ Grabbing at your shirt hem, running his hands up under your blouse, hooking his fingers in your waistband, he doesn’t care how unsightly it comes off all he knows is he loves the feeling of your skin brushing his

⇾ Now at least when he won’t shut up it’s in the form of babbling incoherent thoughts that honestly are kinda cute

⇾ Mister Hot Stuff suddenly the begging drooling fanboy at your feet gives you a power rush like none other

⇾ If his stupid fangirls could see him now, on his knees, brown hair pushed off his blushing face, a string of drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he looks up at you half lidded, it’s beautiful

⇾ All this talking and you’re wondering if you can shut him up

⇾ “Suck them.”

⇾ Toru’s lips clamp around your fingers, eagerly if you might note, and his eyes close as he leans into your touch to take your fingers down to your last knuckle

⇾ “So needy.”

⇾ You press down on his tongue, force another finger in his mouth, tilt his face up to you, it doesn’t matter Toru sucks on your fingers with enthusiasm and a half lidded glazed over look up at you

⇾ This could go on forever really, maybe just a picture to save the occasion...

⇾ “Smile babe.”

⇾ Toru’s cheek dopey grin with your fingers pressing down on his tongue, you encourage him to open wide and maybe just snap one more for good measure

⇾ As eager as he is, it’s easy to see his excitement travel down below the waist

⇾ His cock standing at attention with the cutest wet spot in his shorts, you wonder if you just touch it lightly with your foot if he’ll-

⇾ “Mmphm~!” 

⇾ The muffled moan on your fingers gives you the biggest rush in the world and you can’t help as you press your foot into his clothed cock

⇾ Toru really is a mess as he nurses your fingers and his hips jolt just ever so slightly when your foot grinds into him

⇾ “You’re so hard...and just for my foot? Soiling your shorts like that too...”

⇾ The more depraved your words are the harder he sucks, the fuck is loving this degradation to its fullest

⇾ Tied up in the way Toru’s tongue swirls around your fingers and the heat growing between your own legs, you nearly miss it if he hadn’t groaned so loudly

⇾ Toru cumming all from just your foot grinding against his cock, his cum seeping through his shorts and the groan vibrating on your fingers as his eyes shut tight and he inadvertently gags himself on your fingers

⇾ A wasted mess he’s drooling down his chin after gagging, brown eyes fixated up at you as he really doesn’t know what happened

⇾ It’s quite alright as the tent remaining in his pants means your fun has just began

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 12

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin felt completely emotionally drained. Between being insulted by Ashryn and threatened by Rael, all he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide from the world for a little while. There was no part of him that was ready to face the alteon Emperor--to be judged and sentenced. Gavin wasn’t even sure he had the energy to plead his case at this point.

As much as he just wanted to run away, there was no escape for the human. He was trapped on top of a gigantic desk. The massive items nearby almost seemed to taunt him, reminding him of how small and insignificant he was in this dimension. ��You’re pathetic,” the quill sitting in its inkwell a few feet away seemed to say. “You’re all alone,” Gavin imagined a massive roll of parchment sneer.

“Great, I’ve sunk so low I’m starting to imagine inanimate objects talking to me,” Gavin thought bitterly to himself.

Meanwhile, the alteon Emperor loomed over the human like some kind of divine monument. The man almost looked ethereal, as if he walked straight out of a storybook. His skin, which appeared nearly flawless, was of a cool brown color. He shared Rael’s long black hair, but rather than tying it back, the Emperor wore his down, with a few strands done into intricate braids. As seemed to be the case with all alteons, the Emperor’s eyes were of a striking, vibrant color. Those yellow irises were focused in on Gavin, holding him in their intense stare.

In terms of dress, the Emperor certainly looked the part. He wore a jeweled band around his head that appeared to be made of silver--which matched the metal that made up the leaf shaped earring that hung from one of his pointed ears.

With the Emperor sitting at his desk, it was impossible for Gavin to see a majority of the man’s apparel, but what he could see looked incredibly lavish. The tunic was of a deep blue color and was decorated with silver embellishments along the hemlines. No doubt the garment was made of silk or some other similar luxurious fabric.

“We have much to discuss,” the Emperor began as he looked down at Gavin. “But first, I believe introductions are in order.” There was no hostility in the man’s voice. Unlike with Ashryn, Gavin didn’t detect anything disdainful or accustatory in his tone. Instead, the Emperor seemed perfectly calm and polite; he even wanted to engage in civil greetings. “My name is Ailred. I am the son of Lyris, and the Emperor of Iaela,” he announced smoothly, the words clearly ones he had said many times.

Considering both Rael and the Emperor had introduced themselves without surnames, Gavin had to assume alteon’s didn’t utilize them in the same way many human cultures did. The Emperor had presented himself as the son of “Lyris” though, something Rael had not done. Were he in a better mental state, Gavin may have pondered why that might be, but given the circumstances he would just accept it and move on.

It took a long moment of Gavin just standing there frozen, shifting uncomfortably under the Emperor’s silent stare, before he figured out he was expected to say something. “He wants me to introduce myself,” he realized.

How the hell was he supposed to get himself to speak? This was maybe the very first time Gavin had zero desire to say anything. He didn’t trust himself anymore. The last time he’d opened his big mouth, he’d ended up with a giant hand slammed down beside him. Now imagine the consequences that could await him if he said the wrong thing to a damn Emperor.

At the same time, remaining silent was hardly an option either. Refusing to comply with the Emperor’s wishes could just as easily have frightening repercussions. Gavin really and truly was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

After a few seconds of internal panicking and frenzied thinking, Gavin spoke up. “My name is Gavin--uh Gavin Stone,” he managed to spit out. He tried to force himself to maintain eye contact with the Emperor, but every fiber of his being was begging him to look away from that intimidating gaze.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Gavin Stone,” the Emperor replied, giving Gavin a nod of greeting before turning his attention beyond him. “Rael, I trust you encountered no issues in retrieving Mr. Stone?” he inquired, reminding Gavin of the fact that his former captor remained in the room, just a few yards away.

“There was no trouble from the humans, your majesty; however I did run into some brigands in the woods who attempted to abduct the prisoner,” Gavin heard Rael explain from behind him. “The offenders did manage to escape, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies.” God, Rael almost sounded like a different person when he spoke to the Emperor. Not that Gavin had any real grasp on what kind of person Rael was. He’d learned that the hard way.

A frown developed on the Emperor’s face. “You did your duty in protecting the human,” he began. “What I’m more concerned with is the fact that these criminals were bold enough to attempt to interfere with Imperial business.”

“Greed can drive you to do some pretty stupid shit,” Gavin thought to himself bitterly.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the Emperor sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to increase the number of patrols in the surrounding woods,” he concluded. “I’ll also have you meet with Captain Saida later to coordinate a search for these would-be abductors.”

If Kaydin and his female associate were smart, they would already be getting as far away from the palace as possible. Gavin could tell the Emperor was serious about this, so if the two thugs didn’t get some major distance from the scene of the crime, there was probably a high likelihood they’d wind up getting caught.

“Now,” Gavin instantly felt the intensity of the Emperor’s gaze return to him, “you are here because you were caught stealing from an alteon diplomat while they were visiting the human realm, correct?”

Suddenly Gavin felt like he was back in elementary school, being forced to answer questions the principal already knew the answer to. The Emperor already knew what the human in front of him had done, and yet he wanted to see Gavin admit to it himself.

Biting back an exasperated sigh, Gavin gave a nod of confirmation.

“And you understand that because your crime was against an alteon, you were brought here to face judgement?” the Emperor inquired, continuing to watch Gavin with those hypnotizing yellow eyes.

Gavin nodded again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with giving non-verbal responses forever, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Not only because he didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing, but also because he wasn’t sure how he was meant to refer to the Emperor. Rael had called him “your majesty” earlier, but the idea of saying something like that sounded so strange to Gavin.

“I realize as a human you are unfamiliar with alteon customs, so allow me to explain the situation,” the Emperor started. “Typically, when I am called to judge a criminal, it is done as an official trial in which nobles and all involved parties are present.”

Gavin supposed that wasn’t altogether different from the trials back home. Of course, rather than having a jury of his peers, Gavin would be judged by the Emperor and the Emperor alone.

“However,” the giant monarch continued, “because you are human, the circumstances are different. I believe a large-scale event would do more harm than good in the long run,” he explained, folding his hands atop the desk. Gavin tried not to focus on them for long, because he and giant hands really weren’t on good terms.

While he was glad to hear he wouldn’t be subjected to some grandiose trial in which he’d be trapped in a room full of a bunch of alteons staring at him, Gavin wasn’t entirely sure alternatives would bode any better. If the Emperor had no one around to criticize his decision, he could be as cruel as he wanted.

“In the meeting which preceded this one, I discussed with my advisors various potential sentences,” the Emperor went on. “I also requested input from Ashryn, as he has some experience interacting with humans,” he added, looking at Rael when he said it.

Gavin suppressed a scowl. He was sure any input from Ashryn had been exceedingly negative. For whatever reason, the guy had it out for him--or maybe he just had it out for all humans in general for some reason.

“Ashryn’s position on the matter was that you need to be made an example of,” the Emperor stated, quickly erasing any doubt that that asshole had a vendetta against humankind. “His suggestion was that you be made a spectacle of, perhaps by placing you in a cage and displaying you in the front hall for visiting nobles and the like to view.”

An instant feeling of nausea came over Gavin. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach. Ashryn was beyond just a dick, he had to be some sort of sadistic demon. The suggestion that a living, breathing, intelligent creature be caged and put on show like some kind of zoo animal was abhorrent. Gavin could hardly even believe what he was hearing.

“Your majesty, forgive me, but doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?” Gavin heard Rael ask incredulously. What was with that guy? Not ten minutes ago he was yelling at Gavin and standing up for his alteon soldier buddy. Now all of a sudden he supposedly cared about what happened to Gavin? It just didn’t make any sense.

The Emperor gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, some of my advisors seemed to like that idea. They believe that if Gavin Stone isn’t properly made an example of, then more and more humans will think they can get away with crossing alteons.”

What was Gavin supposed to do? Should he try to stand up for himself, to excuse what he’d done? Would it even matter? He had committed the crime, that much was fact. So would any excuses even make a difference? He tried to read the Emperor’s face, to look for some kind of sign that he would be understanding, but the man had an expression that was virtually unreadable. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

-

Of course, of course Ashryn would advocate for some cruel, antiquated punishment for Gavin. It was obvious the guy had some inexplicable resentment towards humans, certainly more than Rael had ever had. He’d been of the opinion that they were inferior, fairly irritating creatures, but never would have gone out of his way to ensure they suffer. Ashryn, on the other hand, seemed eager to see Gavin endure the worst.

And what was worse? The Emperor hadn’t immediately dismissed Ashryn’s suggestion. How could he even consider it? Surely he would never subject even the worst alteon criminal to the humiliation and indignity that would come from being locked in a cage and put on display. Yes Gavin was human, but he was still an intelligent, sentient being. He didn’t deserve to be treated like an attraction.

But what could Rael do? He was in no position to question the Emperor; doing so would be suicide for the reputation he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to wonder whether the information that Gavin had in fact been hired to steal from the diplomat would impact the Emperor’s decision.

Gavin himself seemed pretty convinced that that bit of information wouldn’t change anything, so it was doubtful that he’d speak up about it. Rael wasn’t convinced. Surely if the Emperor knew Gavin had just been used by somebody else, he would be less harsh with the punishment he issued.

Rael couldn’t speak up about it. He had already taken a great risk with his previous comment. Continuing to speak out of turn in favor of a human criminal could end up reflecting horribly on him. The Emperor may begin to question his loyalty. Rael couldn’t put that all on the line for the sake of a human of all people...right?

The memory of Gavin’s fear-stricken face flashed through Rael’s mind. He cringed internally at the mental image. Gavin had clearly had some level of trust in him, the look of betrayal he’d worn made that much evident. When Rael had used his far greater size and strength to scare the human into submission, he’d shattered any trust that may have developed between them. He had taken the side of Ashryn, someone he hated, rather than risk his status by standing up for Gavin.

Yes, what Rael had done had been the right thing to ensure his reputation remained in good standing. But if it had been the right thing to do, then why did Rael feel so miserable about it?

“If you have something to say on the matter, you have my permission to speak up,” the Emperor told Rael, clearly sensing his hesitation.

“I can’t say anything, I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to risk it for some human!” one part of Rael’s mind insisted, but he was finding that voice was quickly becoming quieter and quieter.

While it was difficult for him to believe he could make such a profound difference, Rael couldn’t help but worry that what he said next could seal Gavin’s fate one way or the other. The Emperor was watching, waiting for a response. Rael had to make up his mind. “Yes, your majesty. I have information concerning Lady Elyth’s stolen ring.”

[the-a-word-2214]

Broken Hearts II

summary: you finally get to meet the little girl that Joby couldn’t stop talking about

pairing: Joby Taylor x reader

word count: 1,750

warnings: language, fluff, mention of intoxication

A few nights ago, Joby came to your house drunk out of his mind. He started sobbing, telling you how much he missed his daughter and how he wanted to do better for her.

Now you were sleeping at his house when he burst into the room. It was highly unusual for him to be up much earlier than you were. He had to have been pretty antsy to have woken up so early and be showered already.

“Babe, babe you would not believe who called me.”

“What? Who called you?” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you sat up, running a hand through your bed head.

“Jane, she called me. She must’ve used Claire’s phone or something because she called and said that she wanted to meet.”

It takes you a second to register his words.

“Oh wow, that’s incredible. Do you want me to come with? Make sure everything’s okay?”

He laughs softly, a lovestruck look on his face as he cradles your face.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

You smile as you pull out a pair of clean clothes before you go into the bathroom and start the shower.

——————————————————

The drive to Claire’s house was nerve wracking for the both of you. You were terrified of any accusations that could come from Claire or any stupid boundaries that the lawyer might set.

Joby taps the steering wheel a few times before glancing over his appearance in the mirror.

“Ready?”

He breathes out a shaky sigh before nodding and getting out.

You’re greeted by Claire’s lawyer who immediately asks you to take off your shoes at the door.

“Who is this, Mr. Taylor?”

“Oh uh this is my girlfriend (Y/N).”

You smile kindly at the man to show that you were harmless. He wasn’t expecting you so you hoped that you didn’t impose on any rule or boundary set for Joby’s visit.

“Come have a seat Mr. Taylor, there are some things that I want to go over with you before you see Jane.”

He gives you a look as to say “what’s this guy’s problem.” Joby sits down in front of the man after he kicks off his boots.

“Rule number one: you are not to discuss anything that went on between you and Claire. Rule number two: you are not to say anything negative about my client. Rule number three: do not put Jane in harm’s way.”

Joby scoffs, folding his arms.

“C’mon now, how dumb does she think I am?”

“It’s just a precaution, Joby. No need to get upset.”

You patiently wait, overhearing their conversation. A little girl with dark hair and a blue coat walks towards you. Joby’s star struck as he looks down at her.

“Hi Jane, I’m Joby.” He’s quiet and cautious as he speaks at her eye level.

“How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good.”

“Well good. Do you want to, uh, go do something for a little while?”

“Sure.”

“Ok, cool. Yeah.” He smiles slightly.

“You’d better get going.” The gruff lawyer speaks as he holds Jane’s shoulders. It’s as if he’s guarding her from something.

“I’m gonna get my shoes on.” He pulls on his boots as you put on your shoes and he leads her outside, her hat now on.

——————————————————

In the car, he hands her a neatly wrapped present which you took care of that morning. She opens the paper to reveal a new doll.

“Hey look, it’s Abigail.”

“Thanks.” She holds the doll close as you drive off.

You can tell that the little girl is discouraged as she looks down at the doll.

Joby begins to doubt himself as he looks to you and then to his daughter.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? You can tell me if you don’t like it.”

“I already have it.” She mumbles.

“Okay, well at least you like dolls. You already have it.” He whispers the last part as you give him a kind smile, resting your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Joby. I can get her a different one.”

“Alright, let’s go pick out a new one and return it.”

He’s definitely an outsider in the toy store. His dark outfit contrasts the brightness of the toys and stuffed animals around you. He gently takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

It’s obvious that he’s nervous.

He walks carefully behind the little girl as she looks around the store, her big blue eyes scanning every toy in sight.

She finally stops on a different doll.

“I want this one.”

Joby fakes bewilderment as he picks it up.

“Okay, great. Yeah. Let’s uh- let’s exchange it.”

—————————————————

You watch the two in awe as they walk around the mall, trailing a few feet away. It may be new to him, but you can already tell that he’s a natural at it. You can’t help but smile to yourself, wishing that you two could one day have kids of your own.

Once you stop in a restaurant, Joby tries talking to Jane about her interests. She’s admittedly a hard nut to crack as she just shrugs at most of the questions. It’s funny to watch this little girl keep your boyfriend on his toes.

The conversation changes once she finally asks a question. Joby toys with the heat protectant on his coffee cup.

“Why didn’t you come see me before?”

Joby is taken aback suddenly, running his hand through his hair.

“Well, uh, I was touring a lot. Traveling. I moved and I was in LA for a little bit. I wanted to come see you but things weren’t so good between your mom and I. We thought it was the best for all of us...” he trails off as he looks to the floor.

He motions for her to lean in closer as he speaks. “You see I was in this band and we had this deal with a record company. And I couldn’t give that up. You know? I was just young and stupid. I wanted to make it so bad.” He shakes his head.

“Have you made it?” Her tiny voice is almost inaudible as she speaks above the loud patrons in the restaurant.

“Yeah, I think I’m real close. Yeah for sure.” He fibs as he messes with the melted strawberry ice cream in front of her.

“So uh, why don’t you like ice cream?” His tone is playful now as he moves past the earlier topic.

“Just don’t.” She shrugs again.

“So, what do you like?”

“Cupcakes.”

He laughs softly. “Cupcakes, I should have got you a cupcake.”

——————————————————

After the mall, you head to a nearby bowling alley. Joby’s elated when he learns that his daughter and him have something in common.

He finally takes off his prized jacket as you find an empty lane. You play scorekeeper as you watch the two of them play.

Joby’s lean figure catches your eye as he makes a strike.

“Did you write zero?”

“Yeah I did, great job baby.” You wink at him as he gives you a smile. He was finally starting to feel like himself again.

He squats down next to Jane as he watches her ball go into the gutter.

“Oh no!” Her little voice cries.

“Tough break, kiddo.” He ruffles her hair as they finish their game.

You only drive back after a phone call from Claire. Jane had a piano appointment that afternoon so he couldn’t spend all day with her.

“I had fun today with you.”

“Me too.” She smiles up at him.

“Okay, well thank you for giving me the chance.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I walk you to the door?” He helps her out as he takes her free hand that wasn’t carrying the doll with her bag.

You watch as she walks inside, Joby lingers by the door before walking back to the car. Tears fill his eyes as you get into the passenger seat where Jane once sat.

He was terrified that that was the only chance that he’d ever get. He drives down the road before pulling over, an empty feeling aches his bones as he cries.

He suddenly jerks the car around and drives back. You watch as he goes up to her window and steps inside it. Your heart rate increases as you watch him, thinking that he’s half sane, half crazy to want to do something that drastic.

He climbs in and sits in the floor with the little girl.

“I wanted to talk to you about us. We didn’t really get to talk about our relationship or anything. So, I was wondering, how do you feel about me?”

“Well, I can’t call you ‘dad’.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He hangs his head.

“I just wanna know how you feel about me.” The tears resurface again.

“You seem like a nice person.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean we could- we could like, I don’t know if you want this. I could be around more, me and (Y/N) could. We could be like a family. I mean...should I be here?”

“I don’t know. Mom’s getting married.” She wants me to call him ‘dad’.”

Joby’s breathing is erratic as he looks around.

“It’s okay. I mean, he’s cool to you and everything, right?”

“He’s nice.”

He looks around again before settling on her face.

“I want what’s best for you, you understand that right?”

She nods as he leans forward to hug her.

“Thank you.” Is all he whispers as she returns it with a “you’re welcome.”

—————————————————

He drives back to his lawyer’s office with a heavy heart, sunglasses on.

“Alright let’s go. I’m ready to sign.”

He signs the document before leaving, his head hangs as he silently drives you both back to his house. His gaze is heavy as you walk inside, you can tell that he’s hurting.

“It’s going to be okay, I just know it.” You take his hands in both of yours.

“Thanks for coming with me. It was nice getting to see her.”

“Yeah, she’s a sweet girl.”

He messes with a ring on your finger, looking down at it.

“Do you think we could start over? I want a family of my own. I want to prove that I’m more than just a fuck up.” He sighs as he studies your eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I want a family too. I know that you’d be a great dad, you proved that today.”

“Oh yeah? I guess time will tell.”

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Every Breath You Take - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki has been stalking you for weeks, and you have no idea why. One night, he decides to claim what is his.

Characters: Loki x female reader

Words: ~6300

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit language, stalking, dub-con and/or non-con smut (depending where you draw the line between those), breaking and entering, choking/breath play, fear kink, power dynamics, humiliation, praise kink, basically Loki being a dominant mother fucker

Author’s Note: Major song inspiration for this is “Every Breath You Take” by Devil + Winter. Yes, I know it’s a remake of an older song, but I looove that specific cover so much.

This might officially be my favorite oneshot I’ve written thus far, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Every Breath You Take

Glancing at the clock, you puffed out a breath at the late hour. It might be Friday, but you had refused to leave the office until all weekly projects were completed by their deadline, as well as a few extras that you wanted to finish ahead of schedule. You had snagged a government job, and there was no way in hell that you were going to slack off or cause anyone to second guess whether you were the most qualified choice. 

Sending off an email to your supervisor with the attached completed work, you gave a triumphant grin before logging out of the computer system, grabbing your purse, and hightailing it for the elevators. Thoughts of a long, hot bath followed by curling up on the couch with delivery pizza and a sappy movie were beckoning, and after a week full of working early mornings and even later evenings, you deserved it. 

Exiting the elevator and crossing the lobby, you waved and said goodnight to the evening security guard. He was unsurprised to see you leaving so late and wished you a good weekend. The sun had set hours ago, but the street was still semi-lit from the city lights, sections of darkness broken by circles of lamp light, car headlights, and the muted glow of lit windows. 

And yet, he still managed to hide within the shadows. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been an unfailing constant lately. Each time you exited the office, even if it was just to run down the street to the nearest food truck, he was there. Standing right across the street from your work building, intense stare fixed in your direction, tonight was no exception. 

The first time it had happened, you had been sure you were hallucinating. Especially because no one else seemed to notice the tall figure, pedestrians passing by with no acknowledgement. It was as if he didn’t allow anyone to see him. Just you. 

Habit made you glance across the street again, and sure enough, the shadowed outline of his lean form was still waiting between the patches of light. It was as if he had molded them to his own benefit, wrapping the night around himself so that only the inhuman flicker of his eyes glinted at you out of the darkness. 

Loki, the God of Mischief, had been silently stalking you for weeks. And you had absolutely no idea why. 

Starting down the street, you felt his presence as a prickle on the back of your neck. He was there as you walked a block over to the bus stop, and it was only when you were safely on board and in a seat that the sensation disappeared. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, knowing he was gone. The reprieve was short-lived, since you also knew that he’d already be there when you got home. 

Sure enough, once the bus exited the city and stopped near your block, the sensation of being followed returned. You walked quickly up the front path of your suburban home, hands shaking slightly as they fit the key into the front door. He never came too close, never followed you across the threshold, but the idea that he could made your mouth run dry. Once you were inside with the door closed and deadbolted, you went around double checking all the windows and the back door. Yep, still locked. 

Peeking out between the blinds in the living room, your eyes scanned the moonlit yard, looking for movement. You didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, lurking. For the millionth time you contemplated reporting him, but also for the millionth time you had no idea who exactly to tell. It wasn’t like you were highly-ranked enough to have Mr. Fury or the Avengers on speed dial. And the police would think you were having a mental break, since it seemed as though Loki could cloak himself from being noticed, even when in the middle of a crowd. 

You had just started working for S.H.I.E.L.D a couple of months ago, as a low-level data interpreter. To say you were at the bottom of the totem pole was accurate, but you were prepared to work hard to elevate yourself within the organization. Sure, you’d never be an actual agent or spy, but there were upper level positions within your department that would one day have your name on them. You weren’t about to jeopardize those possibilities by creating waves while still in your probationary period, especially since you doubted your by-the-book, no-nonsense supervisor would do anything other than laugh in your face if you tried to tell him that a friggin god had chosen to follow you around. Hell, even your own family would probably assume you were overworked and delusional.  

Which meant that you were stuck dealing with the issue of Loki yourself...and so far your grand master plan had been trying to ignore him in the fervent hopes that he would get bored and leave you alone. 

Though he was impossible to totally ignore, you had made some progress with not lying in bed awake all night, staring at the ceiling and fearing the moment he’d decide to come inside the house. You still did this for about half of the night, but hey, progress. When he had shown no interest in crossing that boundary, you wondered if you were supposed to feel more terrified at his lack of intent, or safe with the knowledge that he was lurking around the house like your own personal security system. 

And while you had at first been too scared to leave the office for lunch knowing he was out there, after a week of huddling in your cubicle you had been furious with yourself. It had been a piss-poor day anyways, and you had barely made it to an 8am meeting on time thanks to forgetting to set your alarm the night before (probably because you had been too busy stressing over the god lurking outside). Deciding that enough was enough, you had walked outside with head held high, ready to march down the street to the nearby deli. He had been there, of course he had, piercing gaze immediately zeroed in on you the moment you exited the building’s doors. 

Lack of sleep and frustration making you feel bold, you had actually stopped and glared black at him. It was the first time you had been assertive enough to acknowledge him without any visible fear, and you were damn proud of yourself. 

That pride had quickly turned to ash when the corners of his mouth curved slowly upwards, lips parting to showcase a sadistic smirk that caused your heart to drop into your ass, legs doing a 180 and practically sprinting you back into the building. Turns out you hadn’t been that hungry, after all. You had left the office for lunch a few times since then, but always kept your eyes pointed down at the sidewalk, never daring to nonverbally challenge him again.

Now, after checking for the umpteenth time that all the blinds were closed, you went through with your evening plans, the hot bath relaxing tense muscles and greasy pizza filling your soul as much as your stomach. And when you crawled into bed a few hours later and drifted off to sleep, you almost forgot about the powerful god who was stalking your every move. Almost…

~  ~  ~

Startling awake a few hours later, you sat up in bed and grabbed for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. Eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, you scanned the room with a pounding heart, relief washing over you at seeing that the corners were empty. It was just a dream, you soothed. It wasn’t real…

Said dream had been filled with flashing green eyes, lips twisted into a cruel grin, and a large, powerful form pinning you to the bed. 

Licking bone-dry lips, you got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You didn’t turn on any other lights, both because you knew the layout of the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, and in hopes that your movement wouldn’t alert a certain visitor who might still be in the vicinity. 

The microwave clock showed that it was a little after 3am, which meant you had only gotten a couple hours of sleep before the raven-haired god had once again disrupted your life. There were enough windows with moonlight streaming in through the blinds that you had no trouble navigating the kitchen. Not wanting to open the fridge and risk him seeing the light, you grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and went over to the sink, glancing out the small window above it but seeing only an empty yard. 

The glass was half full when you felt every hair on your body stand up in warning. All those blinds had been shut earlier. You had checked them multiple times before going to bed. Your eyes flew back up, breath catching in your throat at the sight. Only seconds ago the view of the yard had been empty, but now…

Loki was standing mere feet away, on the other side of the glass. Moonlight lit up his features, the pale unblemished skin giving off an eerie glow as his emerald eyes burned into you through what, suddenly, felt like a pathetic excuse of a barrier. Shock and fear made your suddenly shaky fingers loosen their grip on the fragile water glass, causing it to fall into the sink and shatter. The noise was like a gunshot to your frozen state; you jumped and screamed in alarm before realizing the sound wasn’t from the window. Eyes jerked down to the sink, where pieces of glass lay scattered and sparkling in the dim moonlight. When you looked back up again, Loki was gone. 

Suddenly, a wave of anger flowed through you, heating your blood and overtaking the fear long enough for you to make what, looking back, was a really fucking stupid decision.

You were so done with his shit, done with living in constant hypervigilance and fear because some god had decided to play with you like a bug in a jar. Without allowing yourself to fully process the stupidity of what you were about to do, you went over to the back door, opened it, and stormed out onto the porch. 

Breath puffing with adrenaline, you glanced to your right, where Loki had previously been standing. Instead, there was only empty air. This served to piss you off more, as it was obvious that he was just toying with you. Well, you were done with the games. 

“Listen up, asshole!” you shrieked at the empty yard. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-” you cut off abruptly as logic finally caught up to anger. Your brain was frantically waving a big, red ‘this is a really stupid idea’ sign and telling you to get back inside. 

The flames of rage quickly fizzled out, replaced by an icy wave of fear when the asshole in question suddenly appeared in the middle of the yard, seemingly out of thin air. He stood silent and still as the night, all-black Asgardian clothing molded to his tall and proud form so that he blended in with the shadows.

You felt, more than saw, his eyes trail slowly down over your body, expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. You were suddenly very aware that you were only wearing a lavender tank top and grey sleep shorts, bare toes curling against the cool wood of the porch. The sheer vulnerability of your situation kicked-started the flight response, and you took a slow step backwards, not wanting to lose sight of what your survival instinct classified as a wild and unpredictable predator. 

The plan failed instantly when Loki burst forward, black cape fluttering out around his form as he strode across the yard. You weren’t sure if he looked more like a fallen angel or avenging demon, but the effect was enough to jolt your body into motion as you turned and sprinted for the still-open back door. 

Crossing the threshold, you felt a small spark of relief, thinking how he never came inside, that you just needed to get the door closed and…

He hit the wood with such force that you were thrown into the kitchen, stumbling back against the opposite wall when he stepped inside. His gaze zeroed in on you as he lifted one booted foot and kicked the door shut.

The loud slam made you jump, vocal cords suddenly coming back online as you opened your mouth to scream. He moved so fast that you didn’t even have time to consider fleeing, his hand cutting off the scream before it even left your throat. He slammed you into the wall, his palm so large that it covered the entire bottom half of your face and effectively cut off your oxygen. His other arm caged you in, palm flat against the wall right beside your head, making you feel utterly trapped. Eyes widening with terror, you clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. You might as well have been an insect trying to stop an incoming shoe with all the difference your struggles made. 

“You will be silent. Attempt to scream again, and I will choke the life out of you. Understood?” 

His low, dark voice made you shiver with fear, but you were so desperate for air that you would agree to almost anything at this point, and so nodded frantically up at him. His eyes narrowed for a few moments, as if assessing your reliability, before sliding his hand down so that it lightly encircled your throat and anchored you to the wall.

Gasping in blessed oxygen, you panted up at him with heaving breaths, eyes shifting back and forth as you tried, and failed, to come up with an escape plan. If you thought he had been intimidating from a distance these past few weeks, it was nothing compared to the vision of him up close. He practically buzzed with power as his lean, muscular frame towered over you, the ebony-clad chest and shoulders blocking any view of the kitchen and back door. The fingers at your throat flexed slightly in silent warning, as if he could read your thoughts and was reminding you that escape was futile. 

You looked up at him, still in shock and trying to process the fact that a literal god was in your kitchen. And not just any god, but one who had terrorized your city, made a crowd kneel at his feet, and declared his intent to rule the planet. His arrogance was legendary, his powers terrifying. And you were so, so fucked. 

Glancing up, you took in his face, semi-shadowed in the moonlit kitchen. Flawless porcelain skin showcased features sharp enough to cut glass, your eyes scanning over his sternly clenched jaw and lips pressed into a tight grimace. They gave off a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine, but then you looked up past his straight, regal nose and found the blazing heat of his gaze. He was watching you intently, those cruel lips curving up the slightest bit at your obvious perusal.

Horrified to have been caught staring, your eyes quickly lowered, taking in the expensive fabric that covered his tall, powerful body. You felt him bend down, every muscle tensed in fearful anticipation when his face stopped right beside your own. You could practically feel the effort he made to reign in his strength, the capability for violence coiled tightly right below the surface of his skin. Still too scared to lift your eyes, you heard as he slowly inhaled through his nose before exhaling through his mouth, so that warm breath ghosted over the side of your neck and caused goosebumps to erupt across your flesh. 

Holy crap, had he just sniffed you?!

He gave a dark chuckle at the noticeable shudder that ran through your body in response to his actions. The hand at your throat moved up to tightly grip your chin, tipping it upwards until your eyes fluttered up as well and were ensnared by his gaze. 

He was taking you in, noting your eyes dilated with fear and mouth slightly parted as your chest heaved to take in panicked breaths. He seemed to catalog all of your reactions with a piercing intelligence, as if storing away the knowledge for later. 

“Do you fear me, human?”

The low, rumbled words shouldn’t have been enticing, but you’d be lying to deny the stirring low in your gut that resulted from his voice whispering in your ear. It actually took a few seconds for the question itself to filter through your brain. Unable to nod with his fingers still gripping your chin, you instead gave a soft, breathy, “Yes,” which caused him to smirk.

“Good girl.”

Okay, now that definitely caused a reaction, your body heating up at the mixture of fear and praise he provided. Dear god, what is wrong with you?! Scream, fight, do something!

As if he could read the thoughts in your gaze, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah ah, little one. You’re not getting away until I allow it.” 

Attempting one last ounce of bravery, you asked in a pleading voice, “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes lit up, as if he were impressed that you dared to question his motives. The fingers at your chin loosened slightly, his eyes watching as he moved a thumb slowly back and forth across your lower lip.

“This planet is exceedingly uninspiring, and I have found humans to be particularly boring. So I had to obtain entertainment in one form or another, didn’t I?”

Well that sure wasn’t the answer you had been expecting. All the weeks of following you around, scaring you to within an inch of your life as you tried to figure out what reasons he had for singling you out, and it was all because he was bored?

You were grateful to feel a spark of anger return at his callous response and utter disregard for what he had put you through these past weeks. Looking back later, you’d think that he had verbally poked at you on purpose, had wanted you to showcase a bit more fight to add to his entertainment of the situation. 

Through gritted teeth, you said, “If we’re so boring, then why waste your time following me around?”

His fingers trailed back down over your throat, and for a moment you thought that your words had been a fatal mistake, that this was when he decided you weren’t worth the trouble and strangled you. Instead, his fingers flitted over the pulse in your neck, pausing there as if to measure its beating, before gliding further down and across your delicate collarbone. 

“I said humans were boring.” The tips of his long, cool fingers slid underneath the right strap of your tank top, pushing it towards your shoulder. “I didn’t say that you were boring.” 

Shocked into silence, you felt the fabric being dragged down over your arm, the neckline lowering with it so that the top swells of your breasts were visible. You felt like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s crosshairs, too scared to move outside the involuntary trembling that started in your knees and traveled up the length of your legs and torso. 

“Please,” you whispered, staring up at him helplessly, beseeching him to let you go. Wanting this to all just be a dream in which he would suddenly disappear and you would wake up in your warm bed. 

“Begging already?” he taunted. “But we’ve barely begun.”

With that, he grabbed the neckline of the tank top and yanked, the fabric no match for his inhuman strength as he literally tore it from your body. The cool air hitting your bare nipples was what thrust you into action, as you reached up to shove against his shoulders with all your might, hoping to make him stumble back long enough so that you could dart to the side and make a run for it. 

Instead, you might as well have pushed against a stone wall, even the adrenaline-laced strength not making him retreat so much as an inch. The only reaction your action caused was him to huff out a dark laugh of amusement before he flung the tatters of the tank top to the side and leered down at your exposed flesh. 

You watched, wide-eyed, as a large and surprisingly warm palm cupped your breast, testing the weight of it. The whimper that left your throat was purely out of fear, you told yourself, and had nothing to do with the sensation of him pinching your nipple between two of those slender and graceful, yet powerfully masculine, fingers. 

“What delightful noises you make, pet. I’m eager to learn how many others I can wring from your lips.”

Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. The whole situation was too surreal, too overwhelming. Your brain couldn’t compute all the mixed signals it was getting from the rest of your body. Thighs trembled with fear and the desire to run, but your traitorous nipples were hard as stone, and not just from the chilly air. 

Loki noticed as well, of course he did. He was a master of lies, and of reading them in others, so there was no way your body was going to fool him. A pleased look lit up his eyes, and the emerald blaze was too much, causing your own to squeeze tightly shut when he leaned in close. 

The words were whispered from mere inches away, and they brought with them a pang of arousal that shocked you to the core. “Don’t fight it, girl. You were made to be ruled, to be owned. And I’m going to make you mine.”

You gave a little sob in response, but didn’t argue, didn’t struggle. Not even when the hand at your breast continued its pleasurable torment while his other hand left the wall to trail down over your ribs and waist until it met the top of your sleep shorts. The tips of his fingers hooked inside the fabric, and with one graceful movement he shoved both shorts and panties down over your hips, so that they fell in a pile at your feet and left your body completely bare. 

“Step out of them,” he commanded, fingers dancing softly along your hip bone. 

Frozen with indecision, your breath came in audible gasps as the mixture of fear, anxiety, and burgeoning desire made your head spin. The headstrong and independent mentality that was so self-ingrained insisted that you fight him to the very end. But there was another part of you, a hidden and previously unknown part, that wanted to do as he said. Wanted to give in and submit. 

Before you could find out which side would win, the hand at your breasts leapt back up to your throat, the movement so quick that you barely had time to register it before your oxygen was cut off. Eyes flew back open in panic, but before you could even attempt to struggle, the long fingers of his other hand caught and held your wrists tightly together, effectively trapping you once again.

His face lowered directly in front of your own, his straight, white teeth bared as he snarled, “I said step. Out. Of. Them.”

At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked if it meant being able to breathe, and so obediently lifted first one foot and then the other out of the shorts and underwear. He used his own booted foot to shove the fabric so that it slid across the floor off to the side, but didn’t yet let up his grip on your throat. 

Your vision was growing spotty from lack of oxygen as you choked and squirmed in his grip. He looked delighted at this, his gaze dropping down to watch your body’s involuntary twists and jerks before lifting back to your face. 

“You’re a willful little human, I’ll give you that. But from now on, when I give an order, I expect you to obey. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded desperately, and when that didn’t seem to satisfy him, sputtered out a barely audible, “Yes”. 

“Sorry, pet, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again.” 

Certain you were about to pass out, you put all remaining energy into gurgling out another attempt of the word. It must’ve been enough, because he whispered ‘good girl’ at the same time his grip loosened, allowing you to cough and gag as your lungs frantically filled with air. 

His hand stayed in place this time, splayed across your throat in silent warning, as his other palm released your wrists, coasted down the front of your body and, without any hesitation, delved between your thighs. When you tried to close them, he used his own leg to wedge yours back open, pressing his erection into your hip and making it clear where this was heading. 

Those cruel yet seductive fingertips ran along your slit before dipping into the humiliatingly apparent wetness and spreading it up to your clit. He gave a hum of male satisfaction at your pleasured gasp, exploring your body in a way that made both shame and desire heat your skin. The tip of his finger teased at your wet opening, barely dipping inside. Your hips bucked, and you didn’t know whether it was an attempt to get away or move closer. 

His voice was more raspy than before, when he asked in a condescending tone, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my pretty little girl?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy clenched onto the tip of his finger when he called you ‘his’, but judging by his groan, he had. 

Slow, achingly slow, he pushed his finger inside you, the long digit reaching places that your own hands never could. Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, baring your throat to him, as desire officially overtook the will to escape. 

“Yes, that’s it,” he cooed, the thumb of his other hand tracing over the rapid pulse that beat in the side of your throat. “Show how you belong to me.”

His words should’ve scared you, and they did in a far-off and hazy kind of way, but you were more focused on how he was pushing a second finger inside you. He rubbed them with knowledgeable precision against the sensitive front wall, making you cry out when they found your g-spot. And when his thumb also started rubbing quick little circles on your clit, you decided that maybe belonging to him wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. 

He continued that way, relentless, his breaths coming in heavy puffs against your cheek as he finger fucked you roughly until the tension between your thighs coiled into a tight spring of need. Whimpering, you dimly realized that your hands were grasping desperately at his arms and your thighs had fallen open wide of their own accord. 

“There you go, pet. Take your pleasure, be a good little girl.” The hand at your throat tightened slightly, just enough to make you have to work a bit harder to draw breath. “And then, I’m going to fuck you...and I’m not going to be gentle about it.”

The orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly, and it was unlike any you had previously experienced. The combination of his praise and threat, along with the motions of both his hands, sent your body soaring. Your cries were hoarse and strained from his grip at your throat, and your legs shook as you came all over his hand, his eyes flaring down at you with delight as your body convulsed against him. 

He removed the hand from between your thighs, lifting his wet fingers to your lips and ordering you to open them. Still drunk off the orgasm, you did so without hesitation. 

“Suck them clean. Taste your own desperation,” he purred, teeth nipping sharply at your ear as he ground his hips against you.  

Once he was satisfied with your work, he removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop before reaching down to his crotch and starting to undo the fabric. You watched in silent awe as he removed just enough of the unearthly clothing to release his thick cock, the head a dark red and already glistening with precum. Despite your recent orgasm, you still felt a bit of apprehension, knowing it was going to be a tight fit. He gave it a few firm strokes with his fist before he grabbed your hips and twirled you around so that you were facing the wall, his feet pushing your legs open even wider, spreading you out for him. 

It felt so taboo, his still fully-dressed, muscular body pressing into your naked back, his bare erection bobbing between your spread thighs. He was so tall that when the hand at your throat pushed upward, forcing your head to tip back until your face was parallel with the ceiling, he was able to lean down over you and make eye contact. You tried to look away, but his fingers pressed into your windpipe in retaliation. 

“Eyes on me, girl. I want to see that little look of pain in your eyes when I press into you.”

Your eyes widened at that, causing him to chuckle. The tip of his cock notched at your opening, but he didn’t press forward, drawing out the tension of the moment. 

“Who do you belong to?” he taunted. 

Licking your lips with both anticipation and nervousness, you whispered, “You.” 

He made a deep, approving noise in his throat. “Yes. Say it. Say my name.” 

“Loki,” you answered with a cry, as he started to press his cock forward, your body twisting as it struggled to adjust to the wide head. 

“No no, don’t tense up,” he hissed. “Take it. Take it all.” 

With that, he pushed inside you with one long, slow thrust. You felt the slight burn as your body stretched to accommodate every thick inch. It must’ve shown in your face, because his lips curled into a smirk at the same time as he groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back. 

“Mmm, you suffer so beautifully for me. Look at you, taking all of my cock like a good little girl.”

The bastard knew what his words did to you, panting out a chuckle when he felt you involuntarily clench around him in response. Your hands were braced against the wall, back arched as he grasped your throat and hip with his hands and impaled you on his cock. You felt so full, so utterly overtaken when he ground his hips into your ass, as if to see just how deep he could go. 

He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, quick and harsh, causing you to cry out with the sharp pleasure-pain. He did it again, pulling his hips back agonizingly slow until the tip of his cock was resting at your entrance. He paused for a moment before pushing back inside, as if to recreate that initial claiming thrust. After doing this about half a dozen times, he stopped teasing and set up a steady and deep rhythm, each thrust sending sparks throughout your entire body. 

Your eyes had started to flutter shut, but his hand cutting off your air caused them to reopen and focus up at him, his chiseled features hovering over you in the dim light, gaze searing down into your own. This time, you didn’t panic, didn’t tug at his arm, just stared up at him with desire-glazed eyes and let him do as he wished. You could practically feel his approval of your surrender, his fingers loosening long enough for you to draw a few breaths before tightening again. 

“You’re so pretty like this, surrendering to me,” he growled through bared teeth, once again letting up on your throat so that you could gasp in air and let it out with a moan. “Every breath you take is mine. Every gasp from your lips, every flutter of your pulse...it’s because I allow it. And now, I’m going to fill up this cunt and claim it as mine.”

Your whimper was cut off as his hand tightened once more, hips picking up the pace as he thrust brutally into you, his balls smacking your clit and fingers pressing so deeply into your hip that you knew there would be bruises to match the ones at your throat. The edges of your vision were starting to become fuzzy when he let up for the last time, his hand lowering from your neck to run over your breasts, tweaking the nipples until you whined before continuing downward. 

When his fingertips zeroed in on your clit, you let out a pleading noise which, under other circumstances, would’ve made you ashamed at how needy it sounded. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for, but you did know that he was the only one who could give it to you. The harsh bite of his cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls combined with the fast and skilled movements of his fingers drove you up to the edge, forehead dropping to the wall as you moaned uncontrollably, his answering grunts sending shivers through you. 

The hand gripping your hip came up to wrap in your hair, pulling your head back so that you were once again looking up at him, and you couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most glorious creatures you had ever seen. His features looked as wrecked as you felt, cords in his neck standing out with stark relief in his pale, moonlit skin as his jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused unwaveringly on you. It was one of the most intensely intimate moments of your life, his piercing gaze breaking you wide open with nowhere to hide. 

You started shaking uncontrollably, body balanced right on the knife’s edge of pleasure and wanting so badly to fall over into the abyss. His lips twisted knowingly as your pussy started to flutter around his cock. 

“Yes, that’s it. Come for me.” The hand between your legs pressed in harder, moved faster. “Come for your god.”

As if the words were the final push your body needed, the orgasm flowed through you. It wasn’t as volatile a punch as the first one; instead, it drowned you in waves of blissfully intense pleasure that drew soft cries from your lips, the sound mingling with his own strangled groan. Leaning down, hand still fisted in your hair, he bit into your shoulder as he came. You felt his warm cum filling you as he did just as he promised, and claimed you as his. 

Mind floating from the high of your orgasm and body trembling with little aftershocks, you felt his hips slow then still, his mouth moving from your shoulder to lick a trail of sweat that was running down the side of your neck. Whimpering, you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into his, grinding onto the softening cock that was still buried deep. 

He hummed with approval, his hands running up over your sides, tracing your body with possession for a few long moments as both of your bodies calmed. Taking your earlobe gently between his teeth, he whispered, “You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose. Is that clear, kitten?” 

Part of you wanted to deny him, wanted to find the strength to fight back, now that the orgasmic stupor was starting to lift. Instead, your body responded of its own accord, head nodding with submission. 

His lips pressed softly to your temple, making you gasp at the gentle touch. You realized dazedly that it was the first kiss he’d given you all night. 

“Good girl.”

The words were said a moment before his body moved away, his cock slipping wetly from your body. The cool air hitting your back made you immediately miss his body heat. You turned around, unsure what to do or say next…

But he was gone.

The back door was slightly ajar from him disappearing into the night, leaving you standing there, naked and shivering, his cum starting to trickle down the inside of your thigh. Grabbing your shorts and panties, you put them on before finding the tatters of your tank top and holding it to the front of your chest. Walking over to the door, you closed it with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the empty kitchen. 

You went around to the windows and re-closed the blinds, stopping at the last one to glance out into the yard. It was empty, completely undisturbed, but you knew he hadn’t gone far...and that he wouldn’t be gone for long. 

Leaving the broken glass in the sink to deal with in the morning, you grabbed another one, filled it with water, and headed for the staircase. As you tucked back into bed, body already sore in places that made your skin heat with the memory, you thought back over his final words. 

You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose. 

You wondered when he’d return to make good on his promise...and as you drifted off to sleep, tried to ignore the dark part of you that hoped it would be soon.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Afterword: This is meant to be only a one shot. I know, I know, I left it very open-ended. But I like to leave something to the imagination, so y’all can create your own fantasy idea of what might happen to “you” next ;)

[shorkbrian]

Freezing

Prelude - sorry for the bad quality lololol

Pairing - Bakugou X Reader

Prompt - I watched Tthe Second Time Around” with Debbie Reynolds and there's one scene where the love interest is like all kissing up on her trying to ‘warm her up’ and also I want to get better at smut!!! I am awful at it and if I try to read my own stuff I'm just like “!!!! Dude!! Just say pussy come on!! use the sexy terminology and stop approaching it like a anatomy test jeez”

Warnings - Dubious consent, noncon, mentions of stalking. NSFW. oral play, dirty talk.

Music -  haha once again too tired v sad haha

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Stop fuckin’ struggling, I’m trying to help.”

This didn’t feel helpful. Bakugou Katsuki, pro hero, had you wrapped up tight in a blanket, his arms wrapped even tighter around your torso. He held you to his body, your bottom half settled in between his legs, your back to his chest.. You could feel him snuffling your hair, pressing his face against your scalp and inhaling. It unnerved you. 

You had tried asking what a pro hero like him was doing, out hiking in the evening, in the middle of nowhere. You were supposed to be the only person that knew about this place. The man had brushed off your questions with a “don’t worry about it.”, so you had tried your best, trudging along, listening to the soft crunch of cold earth beneath two sets of shoes. 

He had kept pace with you, even though you figured that he was in way better shape than yourself. He could probably run the entire length of the trail without breaking a sweat. Well, to be fair, it was also cold. Almost frighteningly so. But you enjoyed the weather, liked the tingly feeling it gripped your hands with, how it froze your nose and ears and made you almost numb to you senses.

You decided the weather was not enjoyable when you fell face-first into a stream.  Usually it wasn’t this full, and was a little trickle you had to step through to continue hiking the trail. But the rains had been hard this year, so it was quite tricky trying to step through the ankle-deep water. Katsuki, ever the hero, had grabbed onto you, helping you wade through. You really didn’t need his arm around your waist, but the shock of the cold water drenching your feet was slowing your thinking.

There hadn’t been a rock in your path, nor a slippery patch. You had felt yourself trip on something, but there was nothing there. Regardless, the ‘helpful’ hand Katsuki was lending proved to be a hinderance, as you simply slipped straight out of his grasp like a wet fish. The water was freezing of course, and it drenched you to the bone, weighing down your clothes and leaving you with a deep chill, teeth chattering together as you shakily stood.

Lucky for you, Katsuki coincidentally had a blanket tucked in his backpack, and his quirk made it laughably easy for the man to start up a fire. You suppose the man felt bad about accidentally letting you fall into the water. He had sat you down, gathered a few pieces of wood for a fire. The next thing you knew he was pulling at your clothes, peeling the wet fabric away from your body. You had slapped his hands away, shooting to your feet and snatching the blanket from him. “I can do it myself you know.”

You had to step behind a bush, shedding your clothes slowly, your numb fingers and heavy limbs making it harder than it should be. But eventually you succeeded, wrapping the blanket around your nude body and engulfing yourself in a cocoon of soft warmth. Katsuki had motioned for you to sit down by him when you had trudged back over, and you complied. You don’t know when sitting next to him evolved into practically sitting on him.

“Mr. Ground Zero, I think I’m warm enough now, you can stop.”

“Naw, you’re still shaking like a leaf, shuttup and lemme help.”

Mouth clamped shut, you tried not to squirm as his arms squeezed you tighter to his chest. You almost jumped out of your skin when you felt warm lips press firmly against your neck. Before you could turn around, wriggle out of his grasp and ask what the actual hell he thought he was doing, the pro-hero planted another one, pressing his lips closer to the front of your throat. Were you shaking because you were cold? Or was it something else? At this point the reason why was fuzzy.

Was this usually how pro-heros acted when they rescued someone? You didn’t like this. It felt wrong, intimate and far too close.  Questions swirled around in your mind as you began shifting, trying to ease out of the man’s grip.

“Uhm, this is really awkward for me, I can just warm up by the fire.”

“Can’t you fucking hear? I said shut up, so zip the lips.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, I’m feeling really uncomfortable like this, I can jus-“

“I said, shut up. And m’names Katsuki, don’t call me by my hero title.”

Why? You stilled for a second, panting slightly. It was suffocating underneath the blanket. The firm arms wrapped around your torso weren’t helping either, squishing the breath out of your lungs.  Why couldn’t he just let you go sit by the fire?  If he wouldn’t listen to you, you’d have to show him through actions. He was making you very, very uncomfortable. Heros weren’t supposed to do that.

With a sudden twist to the side, you loosened Bakugou’s hold on you - he hadn’t been expecting that. Clutching the blanket securely around you, a bid was made to stand. Katsuki didn’t like that. You had risen into a crouch, intending to stand from there, but before you could process it, Katsuki had you pinned, flat out on your back.

Once your brain had adjusted to the sudden spin of being manhandled, you spluttered out your indignation. “Hey! You can’t just do tha-“

“How many fuckin’ times do I have to repeat my goddamn self? Shut. The fuck. Up. I don’t wanna hear any more protests comin’ outta your mouth, got it?”

An intensely sparking hand, bright orange and yellow and red dancing in the palm, lowered  down next to your face, silently threatening a burn if you didn’t obey. With wide eyes, you nodded, trying to decide whether to watch Katsuki, or his quirked-hand. The decision was made for you when Katsuki snapped his fingers, the ones connected to the hand not currently going off like a sparkler. He wanted your attention on his face.

“Be good for me, or else I’ll rock your shit. Hah, might just rough you up for the way you were struggling against me earlier, little brat.” He paused for a second, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at you. “Tch, nah,  It felt kinda good.”

You gaped up at him as he kneeled over you, horrified. What? What was going on? 

The man began pulling at the blanket covering your modesty, prompting you to grab at it tighter. He barely had to light up his hand before you were letting go, forced to part with the only thing hiding you from wandering eyes. And oh, did Katsuki’s eyes wander. The second he threw the blanket back, uncovering you, he leaned back, resting on his heels as he stared at your body hungrily.

Everything was happening so fast, you had just been going on a simple hike? Why was a pro-hero doing this to you? Didn’t Katsuki have better things to be doing? (Literally)

You voiced these thoughts in a small, soft voice, hoping you wouldn’t get yelled at again for simply speaking. “I don’t understand Mr. Gr-Katsuki….. What’s happening?”

The blond huffed, leaning forward again so he could be closer, a hand roughly pawing at the curve of your waist.

“I have been waiting so long to catch you alone. You think it’s a coincidence I decided to go on a hike today, huh?”

“What? What do y-“

“God, ever since I saw you in that shitty little bakery I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you. Been a fuckin’ mess.” The man cut you off, hands coming up to squeeze at your chest, pinching your nipples, groping the soft flesh there. You were gasping, barely able to listen to the pro-hero as he continued. “You just looked so tasty, I wanted to pick you up and eat you out right there, in front of everyone. I bet you wouldv’ve liked that, huh? Me lickin’ all over your little pussy?”

You choked on a breath as Katsuki slid down your body, his dark red eyes still connected with yours. You wanted to protest, tell him what a gross, nasty pervert he was. Seriously, what the hell? You wanted to kick him, break his nose, distract him with pain long enough for you to hightail it out of there. But his earlier threat remained, kept you frozen in place, hands by your side. Your were pliant, complacent as the blond slid between your thighs, hands coming to rest and knead at your waist.

Katsuki breathed against your slit, the hot air contrasting so boldly against the chill around you that you shivered, your opening clenching. Katsuki chuckled at that, before pushing his face forward, giving your labia a long, slow lick. Your leg kicked out, unprepared for the sensation as you tried to hold back a squeal. You were far from a virgin, but you had to admit it had been a while since you had been with anyone intimately. Work was too hectic, too tiring.

Another slow, measured lick had you keening, before Katsuki went searching for your clit. He found the small nub, flicking over it with his tongue, sending electric bursts of pleasure tingling through your body. Unconsciously, you bucked your hips, searching for more stimulation as Katsuki pulled back.

“Oh fuck, knew you’d taste sweet.”

He dove back down, tongue licking and sucking and rubbing at your cunt, sometimes taking a second to slip inside your opening, probe at your insides before pulling out again, moving to suck on the puffy, abused lips. You cried out, unwanted noises leaving you as you writhed under Katsuki’s skilled tongue. You didn’t want this, but it felt so good. You were so wet, could hear the sound of your slick as Katsuki lapped at your pussy. He acted as if he was starving, eating you out so vigorously that you were actually brought to tears. There was slobber, spit, and slick everywhere, creating a delicious wet slide that let the man move as he wished, tongue sliding into and around your folds.

Distantly, you felt the heat of the fire, saw the emerging stars through the trees, felt a rock pressing into your back. These sensations were lost, the overwhelming pleasure you felt taking up all your focus. You were close, could feel yourself beginning to rush towards an orgasm. 

“Kat-Katsuki, wait! I’m, oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

You almost sobbed when he pulled away, licking at his wet lips. “Yeah? You gonna fuckin’ cum for me? Go ahead and cum, bitch.” He snarled.

When you felt his lips sealing over your clit, you shuddered. When he started sucking, you screamed.

Hands fisted in his spiky locks, you lost yourself in the pleasure, felt yourself crest that peak. An orgasm washed over you, tingly, shaky, hot. You trembled as Katsuki kept licking you, no longer sucking fervently at your clit. You had to tug his hair, pull him away from your pussy to get him to stop mouthing at you. You wanted to say something, maybe tell him to fuck off, or to let you be - but you could barely think.

Katsuki crawled back over you, wiping at his wet face with an arm. He was still fully clothed, hair barely mussed from all your tugging. He grinned down at you. “Felt goddamn good, didn’t it? Just wait ‘till I actually start fucking you.”

You wanted to protest, Katsuki’s hands already unbuckling his belt. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let you say no.

[obeymeplz]

one of those days ll mammon x gn reader

LISTEN guys... I’ve peeled through every single fanfic and one shot of my boy boy that I can find.

I’m done, finished, kaput. And I need content. So I decided to make my own.

2k words, ft. Belphie my salty homie

Warnings: mean(ish) mammon (because I’m a hoe for angst, highly implicative of smut...?, cussing...?

Enjoy ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorry if I suck LOL

It was one of those days, and it all began when you dropped your plate of pickled pancakes (it’s an acquired Devildom taste) all over your crisp, white shoes. Beel involuntarily frowned at the waste of food, while the other demon boys snickered at your inherent clumsiness, Lucifer merely rolling his eyes before excusing himself from the table. But someone was missing that morning.

From that moment on, you knew nothing would be going your way.

Your bad luck followed you to second period, where you received a colossal “F” on your scrying test, and then to lunch where Satan and Asmo had to pull you out of a fight with a succubus who had thought it her business to label you a “suck up whore”. This was a name you were used to; from the moment you arrived, every demon and unthinkable hoard in the Devildom believed you to be sleeping with every brother in the House of Lamentation, playing through all of them with zero consequences. Despite the utter falsity of these accusations, they hurt no less every time you had to hear them.

And to top today’s cake with a juicy red cherry, the one single person who could make all your worries melt away with just a smile had been nowhere in your sights all day. Mammon was indeed the sunshine you needed on this dreary afternoon, with his dumb tinted glasses and cocky remarks, yet endearing eyes and wondrous grin.

Staring out the window of an empty chem room, waiting for someone to be available to walk you home, you realized that it was an odd day - such a new world you’d been thrown into, yet so quickly you had familiarized yourself with your new “normal”; and now that normal wasn’t there. There were certain things you knew, day in and day out.

The sun will (sort of) rise.

The sun will (kind of) set.

You live in Hell.

Mammon will always be there.

These things you counted on to be true, because if they weren’t, you weren’t entirely certain how you’d keep your sanity intact.

“For a human who’s supposed to be completely inferior to our kind, you sure do seem to think a lot”.

Belphie.

“Gee, Belphie, you know, “you sure do” have a way with words. Thank you! I just feel so much better”, you scoffed a retort as you swung your legs over the ledge of the window to face the cow-haired boy, clearly having just woken from sleeping through 7th period. He only smirked at you.

“I heard you need a warm body to walk next to, and I figured I could use the company. Home?”

You smiled smally as he helped you to your feet. “Yeah, home sounds nice”.

He reciprocated the smile.

“So, what really has you down in the dumps?”

You shrugged as you tried to formulate a thought that might make sense to him.

“Well… I guess I-”, you had to cut off mid sentence, because something familiar began to tickle your ears — a laugh, one you’d been aching to hear all day.

“Belphie, is that… is that Mammon? Where has he been all day?”, you were asking the question, but your legs were already moving you out the door away from the answer. He replied, but you could only piece together bits as you got further away from him, following the voice of the snow-haired boy instead. Argument, Mammon left, crashed with friends, all night, definitely in trouble. That’s what you processed.

“Mammon-” you rounded the corner, but halted in your tracks, backing behind it when you came near face-to-face with a group of demons much taller and much stronger than you, energies darker than the ones you were used to being surrounded by.

He hadn’t heard you.

“Bro, that was a riot. You gotta swing with us more often my man”.

“Ya know Lucifer wouldn’t even think ‘bout lettin’ me ride with you guys on the day-to-day. ‘Sides, I got things to do”.

“You mean a human to babysit?”, your breath caught in your throat. You heard Mammon scoff.

“No! I do what I want. They’re cool.”

Your heart pounded into your throat (but that’s something you’d never let him know). You were just friends, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be more. Sure, he was terrible at hiding how much he cared about you, and sure, he was ridiculously possessive over you, but he’s also the Avatar of Greed, so how much of that is him needing you versus his sin needing you? The way you saw it, neither of those things amounted to relationship-worthy love.

The conversation was droning on, and you’d almost forgotten you were listening.

“So, you fuckin that then or what?”

Your head snapped back into full awareness, the tone of your feelings completely changing every second, anxiously awaiting your favorite demon’s reply. Why were you so nervous? He wouldn’t lie about you, he wouldn’t slander your name — not with what people already thought of you because you lived in a giant house with 7 painfully-attractive, desire-filled, and experienced, rulers of Hell.

“Yeah, the rumors true?”

Mammon’s voice came next at a grumble.

He stuttered it.

You almost didn’t catch it.

You must not have.

“Y-yeah. No, I mean absolutely. I mean, how could a human even turn down The Great Mammon? They couldn’t, and they don’t.”

You must not have heard it — but you did, and you almost wished you hadn’t

Before your thoughts could catch up with your limbs, you found yourself rounding the corner yet again. “Yeah, how could they not, Mammon?”, your voice cracking at the end, despite all your efforts to come across smooth and level-headed.

“MC..”, Mammon’s mouth instantly hung open, his chill facade easily melting away. He looked almost identical to a lost puppy within moments.

“Oh you can bet, Mammon fucks me every single night — no feelings involved, because that’s just the kind of big man he is. He’s even fucking me RIGHT NOW. Right, Mon?”, you seethed his nickname through your teeth. Tears were starting to puddle at the lids of your eyes, threatening to expose just how much you really cared for him, and just how unspeakably broken you felt in that moment.

“M-MC. Pl- please don’t —“, he was already approaching you, pushing past the group of boys. You turned on your heel, catching the watching eyes of Belphie at the end of the hall. You ran for him until you were in reach to yank on his arm, pulling him behind you, as fast and as far away from that school, and Mammon, as possible.

“MC!”

Mammon will always be there.

Mammon would not always be there. This was a new truth you heartbrokenly added to your list.

———————————————————-

Your room was icily cold, numbingly so.

You always kept it like that when you were sad, hoping maybe some of the lack of feeling in your body would translate to your heart.

Hoping you wouldn’t feel so shattered.

You trusted him. And he broke it. He broke you.

These are obvious statements, but as you laid solemnly tucked under a heap of blankets, you couldn’t help but run them, and the scene from today, over and over again through your brain.

Maybe you were overreacting?

Mammon had always been the brother, despite his tsundere attitude, who protected you. He never lost his cool with you, and he never treated you poorly. Maybe he made a few callous remarks here and there, but they were gentle underneath, and just his own way of showing you a glimpse of the angel wings he’d lost a long time ago.

Mammon had become your home.

“MC?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but it was undoubtedly him. You weren’t sure if you were shocked, happy, angry, or assured that he had come, but either way, you wouldn’t dare leave your covers to open the locked door. Not yet.

“MC. Please. Open the door. I-I just wanna talk to ya…”

You didn’t budge.

“I will kick this down, ya know”. You were both quiet until you heard some shuffling outside. Your eyes went wide, ready for a foot to come flying through shards of your door. You scrambled to your feet, stumbling over to the rusted knob.

You cracked it open.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to sleep in Beel’s room another week because my room needs renovating for the millionth time.”

Mammon smiled shyly at you, apologetically more than anything.

“Can I.. ya know, come in?”

You pulled out of the way, making just enough room for the tall, lean demon to slip through the crack in your door.

The moment he stepped in, he was engulfed in darkness, nothing but dim threads of moonlight that seeped in through your curtains to highlight the sharp features of his face and body. He’d shed his jacket since earlier, leaving him in his fitted black tee and jeans.

So beautiful.

You mentally slapped yourself for even thinking about it.

You were mad at him.

“So. Please talk. I’m exhausted and wasn’t planning on even looking at you tonight.” You were curt. But you had to be, or else you wouldn’t be able to hold anything back, whether that be anger, or adoration.

He looked taken back — hurt — too. He glanced at your bed and the candy wrappers strewn about the floor. Mammon wasn’t too bright, but he knew enough to know when someone had been crying for well over an hour.

On a normal occasion, he would’ve thrown himself onto your sheets, rolling until he found a comfortable position to scroll his D.D.D. and poke at you for hours.

But tonight, he awkwardly crossed his arms and shuffled his feet, clearly unsure of what to say first — or at all, for that matter.

“I-“

You raised a tired eye, cueing him to spit whatever excuse he could possibly say out.

“I get a bad rep sometimes.”

What?

“For liking ya.. Hanging with ya.”

If this was an apology, it was the worst one you’d ever heard in your life.

“Oh? Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a burden to your bravado. Let me continue to take myself out of the picture.” You pointed at the door for him to leave, ready to break down the moment he walked through.

“No! That- that’s not what I meant.” He made eye contact for a mere moment, silently begging for you to see his sincerity.

“Is anything ever what you mean, Mammon?” The use of his full name in a mix with that tone clearly set him back, but he shook it off hurriedly.

“Yes! I mean, I don’t care. Usually. I’d-I’d just had a rough day with Luci. Rough life, more like, and I was tired of feelin’ like shit ‘bout myself. Nazriel’s question jus’ threw me off. I-I wanted to seem cool, so I said what I knew would make me, and-“

“And you’re a piece of shit for it”.

You weren’t wrong. And he knew that.

“... and I’m a piece of shit for it.”

There was a pause before he hesitantly continued.

“I wound up bein’ exactly what I was tryin’ not to be. Scummy.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, blue hues morphing into gold flecks like waves crashing on the beach. Your breath hitched and caught in your throat, only now realizing that the whole time you’d been arguing, you’d both been slowly edging together. Now, you were dangerously close.

“You aren’t scummy, Mammon…”, you began to tenderly look at him.

“Yeah.. I am. But that’s just me, I guess. I can’t mind it.”

He took one step, leaving you toe to toe. Though one of the shorter of the boys, he still towered over you.

“I jus’ can’t be scummy to you.”

You tilted your head, heart and body language softening as he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be, and I don’ wanna be”.

His hands cautiously made their way to your shoulders, and you shuddered at the feeling that made its way through your bones.

“Mammon?”

“Yeah?”

“That apology shouldn’t have worked.”

He chuckled, “you’re right.”

You smiled, a true smile. The first one all day. And what came next, you knew probably shouldn’t. But you also didn’t really care.

“Mammon?”

He hummed in response, and you stood as high as you could on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. His face deeply rouged the moment your lips met his hot skin.

His eyes were wide as you lowered yourself down, leaving a hand lingering on his arm.

In that moment, his aura shifted, and everything was suspensefully still. Within seconds, his arms wrapped you in a crushing hug, his breath heavy and warm behind your ear.

You sunk your weight into his, relishing the relief from the chill of your room, as you snaked your arms behind his back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood like that, but you knew it must’ve been a while, because his grip was starting to affect your breathing.

“Mon- air”,

He lightened up and pulled back from you.

“S-sorry!”

Your lips turned up at the sight of his cute embarrassment. He scowled at you, knowing what you were thinking, but slowly started to laugh.

He leaned his forehead against yours, the sudden proximity causing you to let out a slight squeak.

“Ya drive me nuts, ya know?”

You searched his eyes, trying to make sure he was saying what you really thought he was.

This was a bad idea. For so many reasons.

But truthfully, neither of you gave two shits.

So he ghosted his lips over yours, his left fang biting his bottom, waiting for the sign to move — the sign that you wanted him, the sign that he would be enough.

The second you tilted your nose to the side of his, he crashed his mouth into yours.

From all the “first kisses” with your “first man” that you’d imagined, this was like none of them.

It was so

so much better.

It was fast, it was hard, but it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t brutal. It wasn’t empty. It was a cataclysm of feelings — pent up tension, pent up love.

As he dragged his mouth over yours, he hooked his hands under your legs, lifting you to wrap around him in one, swift movement. Then, he was on the move, backing himself toward your bed until the back of his knees met the mattress, and he collapsed, pulling your legs to straddle his lap. You hadn’t disconnected from his lips the entire time, still fervently needing more of him. You knew he felt the same. The demon of greed would most certainly never have enough of you. He tasted sweet and smelled strongly of an expensive cologne you knew he probably couldn’t actually afford. One of his hands stayed splayed on the top of your thigh, while the other worked to bring you even closer to him (if that was possible), pressing underneath your shirt to the skin on your back, two fingers edging their way into the beltline of your shorts.

He was careful not to take himself too far, to not lose control, and you could tell, so you worked your tongue past his lips. He sucked in a breath as the complete access to your mouth made room for him to deepen his greed for you. Slipping his tongue to meet yours, he nipped at your bottom lip, working his entire mouth in a blissful harmony.

He pulled back, heaving air, seeping desire from every muscle, just enough to speak to you,

“MC… I-I can’t… I can’t handle this... well... for much longer. I don’ know what I’m gonna do to ya…”, he began to pepper wet kisses down your neck, unable to keep himself off you long enough to even hear your reply.

You weren’t sure what else you were expecting, or if you were expecting anything else at all.

You were making out with a demon, after all.

You moved a hand to rake your nails through his frosty hair, and he leaned into the palm of your touch.

“It’s okay. I want you. All of you...”, it was only a whisper, but you were afraid if you spoke too loud, you’d snap the moment in half.

He did nothing but growl before reattaching his lips to yours, bringing his slender fingers to tug up at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m gonna do my best not to hurt ya…” he mumbled on your lips. You simply nodded, running your hands against his abs. He shivered at the contact, before helping you remove his own shirt.

Somewhere in the midst of him sliding on top of you, and the complete sight of the demon boy you had always longed for filling your soul, you heard the faintest of three words. You almost tricked yourself into believing they never entered the air, that they’d never left his lips.

But they were impossible to ignore.

“I love you”.

The sun will (sort of) rise.

The sun will (kind of) set.

You live in Hell, with 7 boys you dearly love,

but one holds you in the palm of his hand.

Mammon will always be there.

That night, he proved that truth to you over, and over again.

fin.

[seqka711]

Ranking the six main boy/girl ships in Yu-Gi-Oh from best to worst!

Not all main girl ships are created equally, I'm afraid. Let's take a look at each ship and see what's up! (Except Sevens because as I mentioned in a previous post, I am way too far behind to comment on anything in that show.)

First up is Anzu and Yugi! And YES I do ship them! However, I don't ship Atem and Anzu. Anzu was friends with Yugi, and started to see him in a different light when Atem started showing up. However, those changing feelings also started to influence her feelings about Yugi as well. We saw that in Duelist Kingdom. Then in season 2 when she realizes they're two separate people, she gets really confused! Anzu doesn't know how to feel anymore! Then Atem and Yugi are both playing wingman for each other, so that's not helping matters. I don't really ship Atem and Anzu because Atem just doesn't seem super interested in their date. I know he had other things on his mind, but if they wanted me to ship it, now was the time to show off some chemistry and they didn't.

We saw in GX that Yugi grows up to look just like Atem and he also grows more confident over the course of the series. After the end of Duel Monsters, I think they're both too hurt by Atem's passing to be digging on each other. But, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I feel like she's gonna come back from the states and have some heart-pounding feelings when she sees him again. And Yugi's feelings didn't change, they were just put on the back burner. So hopefully when they meet back up, sparks are gonna fly! At least, I hope so. <3

~

Next up is Asuka and Judai! When I watched their first duel, I was 100% on board with this ship. They were cute, they had great banter, it was a fair fight. I loved it! But over the course of the series, I started losing interest in their relationship, fast. By the end of season 2 I was pretty convinced they had abandoned Asuka x Judai for Asuka x Manjoume, and honestly, I was 100% on board with that, I love a good romcom couple and those two have dysfunctional romcom energy. Plus they had evil power couple vibes when they were running the Society of Light together, so I thought for sure they were gonna have Manjoume and Asuka be better friends post possession.

Then season 3 came a long and I was like "woah, they DID do that on purpose! I was right!" when we saw the Judai x Johan x Yubel love triangle they spent the entire season on. Asuka and Manjoume were of course relegated to background characters, as was everyone who wasn't a transfer student. And then the series ended with a pretty definitive Judai x Yubel ending and I was like "cool I like it".

But then season 4 made me question everything by making it clear that Asuka was still crushing on Judai?!?! Uhhh.... what? You haven't mentioned this crush in OVER TWO YEARS ASUKA. You've both changed so much! I thought the whole point was "she had a fleeting crush on him in year 1, but people change and so do our feelings"! I thought they had her fall out of love with him on purpose!! You're telling me the writers just wanted us to ASSUME she was still in love with him this whole time?!

I honestly love the whole "had a crush on him, now that I know him better, he's an amazing friend but I don't like him that way anymore" dynamic and they RUINED IT so bad. And for what? To say "well they fought the whole time, but now look! They can tag duel together!" Well, jokes on them, because a few episodes later Judai and Johan will show off some of the tightest teamwork in the show and I'll have to throw Asuka x Judai in the trash. </3`

~

Yusei x Aki!!!!!! AHHHHHH I LOVE THEM. Their first duel is very romantic in my opinion. Yusei lives to help people, and it's actually a flaw of his that he'll help people no matter the cost. Usually that's sort of a "who cares" flaw in a protagonist, but for Yusei, it adds a lot of depth to his character. The reason he helps people even at the cost of himself is because he feels enormously guilty due to his parents' involvement in Zero Reverse, and he feels like he owes the world (but especially Satellite) everything. Yusei tried to go to jail in Kiryu's stead, but failed, and I think that only compounded his guilt even more.

Then, when Yusei sees the chance to help Aki, he does it. He's scared of her, but he rallies his courage to face her so that he can help her. And it's only natural that Aki would fall hopelessly in love with him after he continually put himself at risk over and over again JUST to help her. I love the episode where she rescues him from being kidnapped and then accompanies him on a riding duel. I think it hits me harder because it reminds me of how much I want to drive a motorcycle but can't because of reasons I won't go into. But part of her desire to learn to riding duel is because she wants to feel the same things Yusei feels. And that's so cute!

Unfortunately, I do have a certain headcanon that gets in the way of my shipping desires. I won't get into the whole headcanon, but I think Yusei might have ended up time travelling back in time to fix Zero Reverse and prevent Zone's future. And Aki wouldn't have come with him because we see her in the flashforward. Yusei is still giving her strength though. And I like to think that maybe a much older Yusei was able to help a much younger Aki control her powers and not enter a cult in the new timeline. And if my headcanon isn't true, then GET MARRIED AND HAVE BABIES GUYS. <3

~

On the one hand, I love Kotori x Yuma. They’re so adorable! Not only is Kotori surprisingly self-aware of her crush (usually the YGO girls love to deny it) but Yuma clearly treats her differently from the rest of his friends, even though he doesn’t know why (yet). Kotori’s confession at the end of the show is SO CUTE AND ADORABLE and Yuma accepts and I love it!

But… I can’t love it as much as I WANT to love it. Kotori’s character, especially in Zexal II is kind of boring. I liked her a lot in Zexal I actually. I thought it was fine to have a character not duel as long as she was doing something else. In season 1 she occasionally gets shit done. Or she’s there for comic relief like when she’s riding the duel coaster. Or arguing with Orbital 7. It wasn’t much, but it was something. In season 2, she’s a total non-entity. I thought the duel where she gets possessed was very funny, but I almost wish that her getting possessed by a Barian was played for drama rather than laughs.

I think what could have been cool is either a) after she can hear Astral, her and Astral team up for a duel or b) when watching Yuma she started to memorize his strategies. Or both. Or neither, just get this girl something to do BESIDES watch Yuma! In the end, my love for how adorable these two are is always somewhat soured by Kotori’s squandered potential. <3

~

Speaking of squandered potential, Yuzu and Yuya are next on the list. I love these two A TON! I’ll be perfectly honest and admit my biases here, I am NOT the biggest fan of Arc-V. The show had a lot of problems, and I’m harsher on it than most.

But one thing I really did like about the beginning of the show was Yuzu! She was independent, driven and her dueling was getting better as the show progressed. Just like Kotori, she became a non-entity in the latter seasons. However, I ship Yuya x Yuzu more than I ship Yuma x Kotori because Yuya was always keeping Yuzu in mind during the latter seasons. So it still felt like the ship was in focus, whereas with Kotori x Yuma, the ship kind of disappeared since more important things were going on. For Yuya, nothing was more important than getting Yuzu back, so really I had no choice BUT to ship it. How could I not? It was so sweet! She was his whole world! I wish we got more scenes with the two of them together though. Them never tag dueling is a crime against humanity. Also its total BS that only Yuya and Yuzu got to come back, but whatever, I guess. I was happy that the two of them reunited and even HAPPIER that the show was finally over. <3

~

Last and basically least, Yusaku x Aoi. Or Playmaker x Blue Maiden. I’ll be honest, I don’t ship this at all. The show doesn’t go through any effort to get us invested in their so-called “relationship” and if I had watched this show on its own, unaware of the series’ tropes, I wouldn’t have assumed they were a “ship” at all. With Judai x Asuka, I actually liked the fake out (at least until S4 when I wondered whether or not the fake out was actually on purpose or if the writers are just morons) but with Yusaku x Aoi I get frustrated because it wouldn’t have been that hard to GIVE them some chemistry. They’re both interesting characters, and I think Aoi and Yusaku could have had an interesting dynamic if Aoi had learned Playmaker’s identity a lot sooner.

What I think the show should have done was have Aoi discover Playmaker and Soulburner’s identity at the same time they discovered each other. Then have Aqua come into the fold a lot earlier. Trios are popular in fiction for a reason, and I think Yusaku, Takeru and Aoi would have been an excellent trio. Specifically, with both Yusaku and Aoi being so reserved, their relationship would be very understated. But that’s not a bad thing. It just means that the writers would have to put more focus on the little things. Like, maybe after a while of being friends, Yusaku sits next to her in class. That would be a small thing for other people, but for those two, that’s huge! I could also see there being a fun episode where Ai tries to trick them into going on a date but fails spectacularly. The two of them end up spending time together to foil the plan. That could be really cute! LITERALLY ANYTHING is better than NOTHING.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t ship this because the writers thought they could get me to ship it just by having boy meets girl and then having them shake hands over a hundred episodes later. And no. I refuse. I need a LITTLE more than that, please and thank you. </3

~

That was a very long post! All in all, 4/6 ain’t bad at all! Or maybe it’s more like a 3.5 since I only gave Kotori and Yuma a small heart? It doesn’t really matter, I’m a multishipper. At my heart and soul, I’ll ship anything. Like I said I don’t ship Judai and Asuka, but I totally have shippy fanart of them on my phone, lol. It’s more like… which of these ships would I defend in court and which ships do I only like because I’m trash that’ll ship anything?

Oh, I guess I did title this as a ranking... Well, I'm sure you can figure out my most and least favourites by how much I used caps lock, so it should be fine.

Give me ANY Yu-Gi-Oh ship (straight, gay or in between) and I’ll dissect it like I did these six.

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Seven (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: After being ambushed by the pair of Devaronians, you and the Mandalorian make the decision to expedite your journey into the city of Opseg. Upon your arrival, the city and its people welcome you with open arms and you find out more about what the Empire did to you while in their custody. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of attack from the previous chapter, panic attacks, medical procedures including sedation, and VERY heavy discussion of forced sterilization. 

Author’s Note: This is my longest chapter yet at 3.2k words! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and I hope I can be back on my regular update schedule. Feel free to reblog and like!

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE DIAGNOSIS

Trekking through the canyon might’ve been easier if you didn’t have such a debilitating headache. The bacta patch had healed the wound in your hairline, but your eye was still swelling and your head ached in a way that you hadn’t felt in months. In the back of your mind, a part of you really wished you had the Puvion leaves to alleviate the headache. The leaves had always worked better than any bacta spray or patch.

Your heart still raced at the thought of what happened earlier in the morning. Waking up to two Devaronians sniffing around your camp wasn’t exactly what you had in mind of a good morning. When they noticed you were awake, there was zero hesitation to take you out. They had even managed to do so quietly enough that it didn’t wake the Mandalorian.

The swelling at your eye aches as a reminder of how quickly they had managed to take you down. Your lack of training had made it easy, before you could even swing up your knife to defend yourself, the one Devaronian, Zek, punched you hard enough for you to see stars. There wasn’t much fight left in you after that.

When they noticed the Mandalorian, however, their motives changed. It wasn’t about kidnapping you and keeping you as their prize for the day, but instead getting the armor off the Mandalorian and selling it. Had they been successful they would’ve walked away with both you and possibly thousands of credits after pawning off the armor.  

But the Mandalorian had handled it, wielding his saber as he easily killed the two mercenaries. It still took your breath away thinking about how he had moved with it, fluid and precise. He may have held the weapon like it burned him, but he used it like second nature.

Your feet hit solid ground and you look up, eyeing the bustling city of Opseg around you. It was noisier than Tatooine. Children scream with joy as they run past you, disappearing into the crowd of people looking to buy the latest products. Fine jewelry and clothing were hung up on display, shopkeepers shouting prices to interested onlookers. The savory smell of vegetables cooking fills your nose and you turn to see another line of shops, these ones selling hot meals. The sights and sounds were both exciting and overwhelming all at the same time.  

“This is insane…” you say, laughing slightly. You had never experienced anything like this before, a city with life. Tatooine was nothing compared to this.

“It’s not insane, my dear! This is Opseg!” A voice shouts behind you, startling you. You turn and a green humanoid alien grins at you. The friendliness waving off this stranger is almost as overwhelming as Orus itself. You wondered if everyone on Orus was like this.

The Mandalorian steps just in front of you, putting a barrier between you and the stranger. You hadn’t hired him to be a bodyguard but given the events earlier this morning and your lack of training, you let it slide this time. Besides, you were tired of being snuck upon.

“Ah, apologies, my name is Ortib-Blik! But you can call me Obie for short,” The alien extends his hand out, clearing his throat when the Mandalorian doesn’t offer his hand in return. “I’m a tour guide here in Opseg. You looked lost, so I figured I’d offer my help.” He offers a sheepish smile when the Mandalorian doesn’t say anything.

“Hello Obie,” you greet, stepping to the side of the Mandalorian in order to introduce yourself. “We’re just passing through; we need to find a medcenter.”

“I’d assume it’s for that wound on your eye?” Obie asks, pointing at where your eye swells. You nod and he grins again. “Well, you’re just in luck, the medcenter is taking walk-ins today!”

“How much is a physical?” Mando asks from behind you.

“It’s free!” Obie exclaims, “Even to non-Orus citizens.”

“Is there work I can find here?” Mando asks and Obie’s expression changes.

“Yes, plenty! You look more like a hunter, so I’m sure if you were to stop by any of Opseg’s twenty cantinas you’d find something.”

You balk at the number, looking at the Mandalorian. You forget his facial expression is hidden by the helmet, but you can assume he’s also surprised. Twenty cantinas was an incredibly high amount and you couldn’t imagine the work going into finding a job would be worth it.  

“Thank you, Obie, but I think we’ll take it from here.” You offer a tight smile to the alien.

“Of course, of course! If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to shout!” He says, waving as he departs down the street.

“I think he was a lot nicer than the Devaronians that greeted us this morning,” you say, smiling when the Mandalorian sighs. “Too soon?” you chuckle.

“A little, yeah,” Mando says, turning around as he looked down the street. It seemed everywhere you look that it was teeming with life, people shouting and laughing. The shopkeepers yell over the playing children as parents stress over prices. This is way better than life on Puvo, you thought.

Puvo had its moments, the winter festival brought out a certain life in its citizens. Winter seasons were so rare that they celebrated the first indication of winter, whether it was a significant drop in temperature or animals beginning their hibernation. You had only ever experienced one festival and it was during the time your mind was still mending itself back together. But you remembered the laughing, the dancing, and the singing.

Valara had spent hours showing you how to braid her hair, repeating the motions over and over until you finally got it. She looked so happy dancing with that one boy from the neighboring village. Impressions meant everything on Puvo and she took it to heart when the boy didn’t offer another date after the festival. You had been too busy recovering to offer her any comfort, but Valara had moved on, throwing herself into work.  

They hadn’t even celebrated the last winter festival. There was too much work to be done, the council had announced. A cloud of depression remained over the village for some time. Valara mentioned it reminded her of when the Empire was still in power. The depressive atmosphere took a toll on your already weakened mental health. Try as she might, Valara’s grandmother struggled to pull you out of that episode. It had been one of the many deciding factors to leave Puvo, at least for the sake of your own well-being.

“We’re in the town square at the moment,” The Mandalorian says. The memories of Puvo fade as you focus your attention. “Medcenter shouldn’t be too far from here.”

“Right,” you murmur, “and what are you going to do while I’m being seen?”

“The guide said twenty cantinas, I have to start somewhere. Most of them are downtown. Small, shouldn’t be too hard to get through all of them before you’re done.” Mando replies, looking to you for confirmation. You nod.

The walk to the medcenter isn’t much. You manage to escape the craziness that’s the town square, there’s not as much yelling, but there’s still plenty of children running around their exasperated parents. It’s clear you’ve entered one of the housing areas, women and men alike staring as you both continue your path. The Mandalorian doesn’t seem to mind the stares. He’s probably used to it by now, you think.

The medcenter is daunting when you approach it. The all-white building amidst desert brown was shocking at first, freezing you in your movement as you stared at the twin doors in front of you. What if they found out something was wrong with you? What if it couldn’t be fixed? Your mind spirals at the idea of what could go wrong, words and thoughts jumbling together. Would they take you away from the Mandalorian? Send you back to Puvo so you can really get better? Institutionalize you? You weren’t that crazy…

“I can’t do this,” you whisper to the Mandalorian. He remains silent and you wonder if you’ve finally managed to make him angry.

“You can. I’ll be there with you the whole time.” He speaks.

“But-but you said you’d—”

“I know what I said earlier.” He murmurs, “But you’re clearly in distress and it’s better for me to stay close, especially in a city as big as this one. The cantinas can wait.”

You’re not sure if his words really soothe your nerves. Your heart is still racing at your earlier thoughts and it’s quickly becoming harder to breathe. He was promising to stay but would he be there when they read off what was wrong with you? Suddenly being on Puvo didn’t sound so bad after all.

You jump when the door opens behind you.

“Hello, I am Oralia. I am a nurse here at the Opseg Medical Center.” A Mirialan woman greets you. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The kindness in the woman’s voice makes you freeze again. You’re unsure what to say, what to tell her. Do you start with the current injuries you have? Do you tell her about your purpose for visiting before you were even attacked? Could she tell you were overloaded with anxiety? You were probably shaking like a wet Loth-cat.

“Miss, are you alright?” Oralia asks you and you shake your head. With gentle hands, she lifts your face, her warm eyes examining the wound by your eye and the peeling bacta patch. “Are you with her, sir?” Oralia asks the Mandalorian.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Let’s get her taken care of.” The nurse says, grasping your elbow with a comforting hand as she walks you through the doors. You can hear the Mandalorian’s boots just behind you as Oralia walks you past the front desk into a smaller room.

“Is she going to be alright?” The Mandalorian asks, watching as Oralia lays you on the examination table. The lights are too bright in this room, it’s almost a startling reminder of that nightmare you had days ago. Strapped down to a table and subjected to torture, you never wanted to experience that again. Not again, not again, not again…

“She is having a panic attack,” Oralia replies in a calm manner, placing a wet cloth against your burning forehead. Their voices sound distant, muted even as you try and get over this attack. It’s so much worse than the ones before, your limbs feel numb and weightless all at the same time and the sterile smell of the room fills your senses. It only makes the panic worse.

A whisper of “I’m sorry” and the white ceiling blurs above you, your eyelids become too heavy to keep open. Sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, the room is the same. White walls and white ceilings stare back at you as you try to take in your new environment. The softness of a bed fills the fists of your hands. They must’ve moved you while you were still sleeping. Sitting up, careful of the needle in your arm, you look around in confusion. Where was Mando? What happened? How long were you asleep for?

“It is good to see that you are awake,” a voice greets you. Oralia. The nurse from earlier.

“Where is the Mandalorian?” You ask, not sure whether or not you can trust her.

“He is out. I told him to walk off his anger.” The nurse replies. She walks over to your bedside and examines the IV needle in the crook of your elbow. The skin is bruised but you’re not sure if it’s her work or from the Devaronians from earlier.

“Does he know I’m awake?”

“He will return, I am sure. You needed fluids in your system as well as a proper examination, but only one of those things I could do while you were asleep.” Oralia replies, examining the needle in the crook of your elbow. Adjusting the bandages, she looks at you with a kind smile.

“Did I pass out?” The last moments before falling asleep aren’t clear, only a blur of pictures and muted dialogue.

“You did not. I sedated you. Your panic consumed you and even my years of training could not walk you down from that.” she murmurs, removing the needle from your vein with calm precision. A small bead of blood pools out and she wipes it away, before wrapping the tiny wound.

Bringing your hand to your face, you feel along where your eye had been bruised. Clearly, it had been treated in your sleep as the skin is no longer tender to your touch. The patch just before your hairline is also gone, the skin smooth with no evidence of a scar.

“I am surprised you made it as far as you did. The Mandalorian told me a great deal of what happened to you both this morning. A pair of Devaronians?”

“Yes,” you say in response. She doesn’t urge you for any more of the story, but you tell her anyways. “The Mandalorian held his own. I, well, I didn’t.” Oralia chuckles at your statement.

“You are brave.” She compliments and you feel your skin growing hot at the statement. “It takes a lot for a woman like you to travel the galaxy. Much less with a Mandalorian.”

“I’m searching for answers. I was a victim of the Imperials and they took my son from me. The Mandalorian is helping me find him.” You tell her and she hums, finishing her work on the bandage just in the crook of your elbow.

“You have other wounds,” Oralia says, this time her hand placing itself right above your heart. You look down at where her hand is and you nod, looking away from her in shame. “I will grab Dr. Orn.”

The door opens with a soft whoosh sound and Oralia departs. You’re left in silence, pondering over your thoughts again. You didn’t want to have another panic attack. Taking a deep breath, you think about where the Mandalorian may be. Oralia had told him to walk off his anger. Why had he been so angry? Was it because you were asleep for so long? Thinking on it, it was some of the best sleep you had in a long time. No nightmares, no memories weaving themselves into dreams.

A click and the door opens again, this time Oralia is followed by a human woman. Dr. Orn, you deduce. Dr. Orn quietly walks over to your bedside and examines what you think is your chart on a datapad. The information displayed is not in basic and you frown.

“Hello,” Dr. Orn greets you. She’s older, possibly a few years shy of Valara’s grandmother but her eyes hold the same kindness. Dr. Orn says your name and you blink, looking back up at her. “We did some bloodwork. First, I would like to welcome you to Orus and we’re grateful that you chose our medcenter as the place to handle your healthcare needs. Second, your bloodwork came back great.”

A sigh of relief. “That’s great,” you murmur and Dr. Orn smiles.

“Oralia did some investigating on your chain code and there’s no record of you in any system, not even ex-Imperial. I’m sure you were aware, as was the Mandalorian. He was kind enough to give us what little information you had on yourself. But given the current state of your health, you are in great shape. Minimal scarring from the leaves of Puvo, which is great. I’m sure you’re aware of the ongoing mental healing you’re going through, but with time, you can work through the nightmares and panic attacks. However, there is something I want to note.”

Dr. Orn displays the datapad to you, this time the information is in basic. A rundown of what medical records they could establish for you. One healthy pregnancy was just one of the few things that caught your eye.

“It’s great to see that you’ve been able to have a healthy pregnancy. Oralia tells me you had a son, about fifteen years ago, correct?” Dr. Orn asks you, pointing at the profile they had made of your son. It was blank except for his name and estimated age. You were listed as his mother, but the name underneath FATHER remained blank.

“Yes. Castin. He was about ten when he was taken from me,” you reply, hand reaching out to skim through the notes they had established for you. Most of the information was blank, mostly because it was unknown, even to you.

“Good, good, as you can already tell we’ve logged that in the file we created for you.” Dr. Orn smiles before she brings the datapad closer to herself and removing it from your view. “However, we detected some anomalies in your blood. A woman of your age should be producing the normal hormones that regulate a menstrual cycle. We found that there was a lack of most of those hormones. Can you tell me when your last cycle was?”

You open your mouth to give a quick answer but quickly realize you don’t know. When you had arrived on Puvo, Valara had explained it was a possibility that your cycle would be irregular, considering everything your body had been through. But now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t even noticed a lack in your cycle. You had been distracted by the ongoing therapy and work on Puvo.

“I-I don’t know…possibly after I gave birth to Castin but I don’t really remember,” you chewed at your bottom lip. What could it mean for you?

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dr. Orn sighs, looking back down at the datapad. Her fingers tap on the screen, possibly logging what you had said. “You see, when we did your blood test, we found the lack of hormones a sign that you were not having a regular cycle. It’s not unusual, travel can bring stress on the body and I’ve been informed of what happened in your past, but for you, it means something else. When the Empire had you in their custody, what exactly do you remember them doing to you?”

You can feel Oralia’s comforting hand on your lower back, rubbing circles to soothe your nerves. You weren’t sure if you actually felt soothed, but you took a deep breath.

“It’s mostly a blur, I remember the electrocution and how painful it was, but beyond that, I don’t know.” You inform her, your hands twisting together in your lap. Why was she dragging this out? How bad could it possibly be?

“I see,” Dr. Orn hums. You watch as her hand reaches out, resting on your knee. A gentle touch. “When the Empire had you in their custody, most likely while you were in between torture sessions, they performed a surgery to sterilize you. The lack of hormones in your blood and lack of cycle leads us to believe that this is true. I am terribly sorry that you had to suffer under their hand. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” Her face says it all, the sincereness in her tone and the sympathy in her eyes. The realization of the diagnosis hits you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Even with Oralia’s hand on your back, you weep.

Read Chapter Eight - Finally, A Lead here!

[ktheist]

saving grace | 1

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

“that’s not a reward,” you heatedly claim, somewhere in your periphery, the royal assistant flinches from your tone, “that’s banishment! you wish to banish me to another country where i’ll be of no threat to you because of the information i hold!”

“l-lady ___, please lower your voice.” jungkook, seokjin’s new advisor, tries to placate only to stagger back from a glare you shot.

the music and chatters is loud enough to drown a scream - and you haven’t reached that point of wanting to yell your heart out at this man. the area you are in - on the second floor on the veranda overseeing the ocean of people dancing in the hall - is secluded enough to give the king his privacy.

“now, why would i do that to my most trusted confidant?” the smile on seokjin’s face could not have been more dubious. though he may wear the crown and sit upon the throne, his crude nature is what he truly is.

it’s not a secret that seokjin is the son of a maid who rose to the top but it couldn’t have been possible without the help of the count’s daughter. he needed information but his status as a prince born from a mere maid, hadn’t allow him to attend the social functions nor received any acknowledgement from the aristocrats. it was you who offered to be his eyes and ears in exchange for moving into the royal palace once he becomes king after the siege.

“as i recall, you wished to live in a palace like a princess,” his voice is unusually high pitched, laced with mockery of what you can only assume is an attempt to mimic yours, “and it just so happens that the prince of aflar is looking for a bride - who knows, despite being the 12th prince, perhaps he’ll be able to rise as the king. that way, you’ll become queen.”

“i don’t wish to become queen! i wish to live a free life without my parents dictating who i should marry just because a lady cannot inherit the family title.” this time, the heel of your foot hurts from the stomp but the anger rushing through your veins allow forbids you from showing it.

“___,” he’s used to calling you by your name - of course, it’s been five years since you’ve known each other. five years after finding out the second prince’s true nature and regretting choosing his side every waking day of your life, “you wish to live in the palace but refuse to take lessons to prepare you as my queen - what would people think of the respectable lady who doesn’t have any prior relations to the second prince-turned-king suddenly living with him under the same roof?”

“there are thousands of servants living in the palace.” you plainly point out - he must’ve expected this if he doesn’t even bat an eye at your words.

“servants don’t go prancing around the palace looking for the king as they please.”

“th-that’s because you’ve been avoiding me under the guise of the workload left by the previous king,” the stutter is what brings about the sly smirk on his lips.

“my, then your reputation is already ruined,” he feigns a disheartened sigh, almost as though he truly cares, “it’s not like the servants are loyal to me so they’ll talk - they might even be talking now - if news gets out that we’ve been acting like lovers, your chances of marrying well has dwindled to zero. you ought to quickly find a marriage prospect to mend the mess you made.”

something in the way he pans out his words causes your shoulder line to jolt backwards - as though physically slapped by the truth of his narration. though not proven yet, and though the thought of having a man to call your husband would fix everything makes you sick - you can’t deny the simple-minded way of thinking of these aristocrats.

the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. whether you’re seokjin’s - as he had time and time indicated - lover. what matters is the double-edged sword you’ve forged for yourself.

one wrong move, and they’d believe seokjin if he’d called you his lover and then claimed you a traitor who tried assassinating him in his sleep.

but as of now, despite becoming the king, he’s still struggling with the lack of support from the aristocrats. and having managed to wedge your way into the top circle is possibly the only reason you’re still able to do whatever you want.

all of a sudden, a disarming smile curls on your lips - seokjin must’ve noticed if he’s trying to control the curiosity that flashes in his eyes before he sports a bored expression.

“very well, i thank you for giving your blessing for me to pick out any marriage prospect i want.” the smile stretches gleefully over your features as the man’s eyes widen at your next words.

“what are you-”

“i wish to wed the duke of cralon and head knight of the kingdom, yoongi min.”

x

“the min family is rumored to be the wealthiest family in the kingdom - perhaps far surpassing the previous king. one word from the duke and these filthy aristocrats will grovel at his feet,” the voice you use trickles with sweet honey while seokjin’s hands tightly grip the seat, “but for some reason he’s staying quiet after coming back from the war and finding out the king he serves has had his head cut off.”

“what are you trying to say, lady ___?”

it’s the honorific that tells you he’s speaking as the king and everything that allows him to sit on the throne. his features, when he’s glowering, is heartbreakingly beautiful.

that’s how it feels to be driven into a corner, seokjin.

“i never told you but the duke fancies me. every year, he sends me birthday gifts,” technically he isn’t the only one - it’s just a formality to maintain an amicable relationship between the houses of nobles but having been out of touch with the ways of the nobility, you’re almost sure seokjin isn’t aware of said ways, “but my parents wouldn’t allow us to meet because of his infamous reputation and i never had any interest in marriage,” the pleasant smile on your lips is a contrast to the man’s contorting features - he must understand where you both stand now, “but if i accept his proposal, the duke won’t stand and watch as the new king sends away his fiance, will he?”

when the king glares up at you but doesn’t seem to have anything to say, you thought that’s the end of it. thought you can curtsy and call it a night whilst devising plans on how to get the duke’s attention and make him fall for you within the limited span of time you have to show seokjin how smitten the knight is for you.

...until the man himself steps out of the shadow without even a scrape of his boot against the ground. the duke is a man of many things but graceful had been far beyond your imagination. and yet here he is, in his knightly attire in black and hints of yellow lines on the sleeves and shoulders - a glaring contrast to his porcelain white skin and silvery grey hair yet perhaps what contributes to highlighting his crimson eyes. the color that’s rumored to be the curse of the goddess for the min family’s generational brute and violence that lead them to winning wars and coming back unscathed.

“your ma-” it all happens too fast.

he’s about to greet seokjin - whether it is with weighty contempt or newfound alliance, you’re not sure - with a hand on his chest and an uncaring glance your way. then you’re running towards him and before you know it, your arms are around his neck and your voice is pitched higher than you would like, “your grace, i’m glad you came back safely!”

you never thought someone could actually turn into stone in a split second but you don’t think the man in your arms is breathing at the moment. and you know exactly who’s fault that is - your own.

“please, play along,” in contrast to the high pitched tone from earlier, you curse yourself for sounding meek and timid - if your heart isn’t beating like a galloping horse and your body isn’t heating up like a baker’s oven, perhaps, you would have had better control of the situation, “my life depends on it and if we walk out of here alive, i’ll do anything you wish, duke.”

...was what you said but it all seems too far blown out of proportion, you might as well forego all your worldly desires and surrender yourself to the church and become a woman of god.

“perhaps, marrying the foreign prince would have been a better option after all.” you lament out loud, pressing the sleeve of your nightgown to your eyes but instead of being engulfed in darkness, you see a vivid replay of seokjin’s knitted brows and troubled expression. and if you’d just focus, you would still feel yoongi’s muscles underneath your fingers as you held onto his arm after flinging yourself at him whilst you make your way back to where you were standing - in front of the king.

pleasantries were exchanged while a dark cloud loomed over the three of you before yoongi excused himself and since you were clinging onto his arm, you ended up leaving as well. before you’d managed to conjure up a plausible explanation for your behavior towards a person you’ve never met. but right in that moment, leslie, your maid had called for you to inform you of the carriage waiting outside.

relief threatened to paint your features but you’d hid it with a dip before peeking at the crimson eyes that’d stared right into your soul. ‘letter’ you’d mouthed before leaving joining leslie in search for the carriage.

it’s been three days since then and there is not a single spot on the table perched in front of your window that isn’t covered with the thin bundles of papers leslie has presented you with when you ordered her to find out more about duke min. he isn’t particularly a social butterfly but his reclusive nature had extended to a point where only the butler is the only one who ever spoke to him. besides that, ever since he’d came back from war, he’d been swarmed with reports and the recent issue of missing goods from the iyesgarth port owned by the ducal house. none of which are useful for you to attract the attention of the duke for an exchange of protection.

“what was that, my lady?” at the familiar fluttery voice, your whole body shoots up.

“leslie!” the woman’s name tumbles out of your lips in surprise, “when did you get in?”

you didn’t even hear her enter-

“a few minutes ago while you were still snoring off,” she answers simply as she walks over, inspecting the teal dress she must have gotten from your closet while murmuring to herself about the ‘handiwork is terrible. we shouldn’t order dresses from vivian’s boutique anymore.’

it didn’t seem like she heard anything but if she did, leslie has always had a knack for going about her day as though she knew nothing. you wonder how much information she holds just from that uncaring personality of hers that allows people to feel at ease with knowing she wouldn’t tattle.

but this isn’t something you could let go, “leslie, how much did you-” but it’s her rambling that almost has you biting down on your tongue as you clamp your mouth shut.

“...won’t do. you need to dress pretty for the duke, my lady.”

almost as though the traces of sleep has flown out of the window, you’re crawling over the bed and grasping onto the maid’s shoulders for dear life, “d-did you say duke?”

an unsuspecting smile graces your lips once the realization that your unusual behavior, is caused by the news of the duke, “yes, he’s on his way here as we speak!”

it takes a moment for you to register her words. another for you to blink back at her as though waiting for her ever smiling face to fade into the dark before you finally wake up, wishing fullheartedly that this is all just a bad dream.

“my lady?” leslie cocks her head to the side, as though searching for your conscience that’d retreated so far back into your existence, she realizes she’s staring back at nothing but a shell.

“why...” the lowest murmur leaves your lips like a calm before a storm before a hurricane rages and whirls out of your entire being, “why is the duke coming here?”

x

“___! what did you do to summon the rage of the duke to our home!” your father, dressed unusually impeccably, stopped in the middle of ordering the butler and servants for when the duke arrives.

“m-me?” yes, you knew you had sounded utterly audacious for someone who boasted - and even blackmailed the king - about the duke’s affection for you, “i didn’t do anything!”

it was in that moment that the clamor of a carriage had echoed from outside. the sound of the horses neighing comes a second later. but nobody heard the footsteps of duke min as he tread towards the open doors of the mansion.

he wasn’t named grim reaper for nothing.

“my apologies for coming on such short notice,” at least he's rational enough to admit his fault.

you catch the sight of the tip of his fringes falling over his face as he bows, before you curtsy, head lowered and eyes fixed to the ground.

your mother had scolded you an earful about peeking while curtsying, “___! have some refinement! a lady does not peek like an uncivilized cavewoman!”

if you’d lived in a cave, you wouldn’t have to be constricted to such formalities in the first place.

“please, don’t apologize,” your father presses smoothly, unlike his frazzled self from just a minute ago - it must have taken him years to hone such composure as to not tremble under the duke’s crimson eyes, “we at the ___ manor, are honored to have you as our guest, your grace. though we are quite puzzled by your grace’s reason for coming here.”

“reason.” the duke echoes, it seems the only thing delicate about him is his features but you’d be lying if you said you don’t find the low gruff of his voice thunderous to your heart.

a short silence lapses as though he’s sifting through his memories and finally letting his gaze travel to you - though his tone doesn’t seem to harbor any murderous intention, those crimson eyes that seek yours render your body cold. you clasp your hands together out of needing something to hold onto as you fix him one of your schooled, noble smile.

“i wish to speak to the eldest daughter of this house,” he says simply, “about our engagement.”

that same smile on your face falters into a pressed line.

x

“my, my,” your mother laughs, royal purple fan that’s been fluttering over his face now being lowered to her lap, “what troublesome rumor has spread about our beloved ___.”

the slightest twitch on her pristine smile tells you otherwise. but you can’t challenge her genuinity - not in front of the yoongi, at least.

and to be truthful, the more pressing matter - one that plagues your very talk as of now - is the fact that the conversation pertaining your supposed blessed marriage had only been attended by seokjin, jungkook and you - there were guards but you doubt any of them were interested in gossips about a count’s daughter’s affairs.

...could seokjin be the one to have spread the rumor?

before you can even come to a plausible conclusion as to why the king would do such a thing, you’re brought out of your train of thoughts by the woman covering your hands that are on your lap, grasping onto them tightly - at first glance, it would appear she’s genuinely concerned for you, “how do you plan to take responsibility over daughter’s wounded reputation, your grace?”

it’s commendable how your mother is still able to let her lips stretch over her face as though the man’s red eyes aren’t piercing through her skull like a spear. you’ve always known she was a scary woman - she wished to pass on her legacy onto you and perhaps that was why you would always end up huffing and trudging back to your room every time you tried to tell her you didn’t want to follow such path.

her ways were effective but you weren’t looking to gain something out of another’s suffering.

“mother!” your voice bounces over the walls, “his grace’s reputation is also tarnished by the rumor, how could you ask him to take responsibility as if it was his fault?”

the woman stares down at you with her signature glare but after years of being on the receiving end of it, you’d grown a spine or two, “silly child, who’s going to marry you now that the rumor of your engagement with the grim reaper has spread far and wide?”

“mother!” it almost comes out a chide at the word she uses to describe the man sitting right across from you.

“d-dear wife,” your father is sweating bullets from his seat as he bravely speaks up, “why don’t we let the duke and ___ discuss this matter privately? it is, after all, their reputations that are on the line.”

“theirs?” your mother’s hiss causes your father’s shoulder line to shrink back.

yoongi’s reputation may have been borne by only him but for a lady, everything you do reflects on your family name. that, you understand and for once, your mother’s outburst is well-founded.

the roots of rage almost tangles around your ankles as well - but the uncertainty of the source of rumor lingers on your mind.

it is the moment when the door shuts behind the butler after your parents which required a lot of pleading from your father, do you allow yourself to feel the heat of yoongi’s eyes on you - if looks could kill you’d be dead for simply and foolishly meeting his gaze.

“your grace, i apologize on my mother’s behalf... my mother, she’s only worried about my future like any mother would,” the head that’s held up high, the shoulders that line straight and the schooled smile on your lips - does well to conceal the inner turmoil inside you. but when all you receive is a steel gaze and a pin-drop silence, you’re forced to change the topic, “i was in the middle of writing you a letter.”

in other words, you mean to say you’re too hasty, duke.

unlike you, the man has his legs crossed languidly, his sword - said to be forged by the spine of the devil himself - is leaned next to his foot, almost as though ready for him to pull it out of its sheath if you so much as move, “i thought you would chip a nail writing me one so i decided to spare you the pain and pay you a visit, my lady.”

the underlying mockery in his words does not go past you yet it takes a moment for it to register - he looked like a straightforward man based on the menial conversation he shared with seokjin and you as a witness.

but it’s true what they say about judging books by their cover.

“that’s very considerate of you, your grace,” the smile you force on goes against the normal order of nature but the man doesn’t seem fazed. his crimson eyes fixes themselves on yours as though trying to take a peek into your soul and find out your darkest secret. if there’d been any trace of humor, it’s all vanished into thin air now.

“your grace, i told you my life was on the line that night. and you helped me regardless of who i was - i’m thankful for you. there’s no way i’d start a rumor of us being engaged and trouble you further,” you begin, capturing yoongi’s gaze with yours - where you get such courage for someone who’s about to spew half-truths, you don’t know, “but that night - it was because seok- his majesty was about to marry me off to the 12th prince of aflar because i’d offended him with my words.”

“so he does whatever he wants just like his father,” his eyes glazes over you, as though picturing the new king at the back of his head as you speak. the matter of what he came for no longer as pressing as he made it out to be - dare you say, it was just an excuse to for him to come barging in.

“no!” the hurried denial warrants a narrow of eyes from the duke - as though wondering why the lady whose pleas were ignored, is defending the very person who’d ignored them. you only wanted a way out - not breathe the flames of an uproar from the nobles who chooses to remain neutral, “what i mean is, i’m sure his majesty will understand if you let me stand by you for a short while - i promise i won’t get in your grace’s way.” the last part is added as an afterthought when his eye twitches just the slightest bit as though displeased by the thought of some lady sticking to his side like glue.

the silence that lapses between you is tangible as your body screams to be released from the frozen state you’re in - you couldn’t move a finger even if you’d wanted to, at least not until yoongi seems to finish thinking.

“what exactly did you say to the king to have him want to send you away for good?” comes the million gold question.

this is it. you know he’d catch on but you’re not so prepared to give an answer. you’re not sure if the hesitance shows in your face but you doubt your mastery for hiding your emotions is as spectacular as his.

and so, with a tilted chin, you set a resolute gaze upon the duke, “the missing shipments from the port iyesgarth,” you state, noticing the curious raise of brow, “how are armwells doing these days?”

“impossible,” the frown that etches itself on his face is another kind of heartbreaking beauty. leaning back against the chair again and consequently allowing you to let out the breath you never knew you were holding, he continues, “the armwells own the warehouses. why would they steal shipments from merchants who pay them plenty just to leave goods in their warehouses?”

“the answer you’ve been looking for is right there,” the smile that blooms on your face is a pleasant one and the knit of yoongi’s eyebrows is all heartbreakingly adorable. “their spendthrift son has been gambling away the money and however much they make over the warehouse fee is starting to not be enough.”

there’s a light in his eyes that shines with doubt and with that, births the shadow of, dare you say, plausible confidence in what you’re saying.

“the goods from the shipment are being sold in the black market,” those crimson eyes follows your every movement as rise from your seat, hand clasped together in front of you - a habit you’d developed to appear small and unsuspecting, “ask around for a franny.”

x

franny is baron armwell’s alias. he couldn’t go around selling stolen goods under his name because the authorities - namely, the duke as part of his line of work after coming back from war - would catch on. it had just so happened that isabelle armwell, a lady you occasionally talk to at gatherings was sporting a long face at the debutante ball. she was spilling every single family secret after a trip to the washroom and a consoling hug.

with a heavy heart, you wave at the girl with the brightest blue eyes and blonde locks that flows past her bosom in waves. she’s wearing a light blue dress with minute diamonds pooling around the hem and dispersing up her waist. it’s been exactly five days after the duke min’s visit and over one week of celebrating the knights’ victory.

“___, i didn’t think you’d be here!” her beaming smile reminds you of the smudged makeup and tear stained eyes you bore witness just a month ago.

“why would you think that?” you blink despite having an inkling of where this conversation is going-

“well, since the rumors of you and duke min’s engagement...” she fiddles with her fingers from what you can only assume to be jitters. of course, a lady her age who’s just debuted into society would be curious of how you tamed the beast laying dormant.

to be frank, you did not.

“-remains a baseless rumor.” you speak rather loudly, hands on your hips as you steal a glance at the throne where seokjin sits, his eyes already on you, “i’m not sure who started it but duke min and i are-”

“lady ___,” a familiar guttural voice greets you from behind you. isabelle’s shock-stricken gaze that’s fixed at something - or rather, someone - past your shoulders is enough to confirm who the bearer of your doom is.

and true enough, standing before you, in the min family’s signature black suit and maroon undershirt, is none other than the devil himself. as opposed to last time, there’s a suave smile on his cherry pink lips - perhaps, nothing more than a show - and his silver hair is swept back, revealing his round visage and making his otherwise soft feature appear sharp and clean.

“your grace,” you dip down, dress lifted midair just below your hips before coming up and noticing the man also in the middle of standing back straight after bowing, “for a moment there, i thought it wasn’t you, but a shapeshifter who looked like you and attended this ball.”

if there’s anything you know - and you know plenty - about the duke of cralon, is that he rarely shows his face at balls and parties. even the ones held by the previous king.

the first time you met him was purely coincidental but not unprecedented. granted, the ball was held to celebrate the victory of the winter knights in the war. if there was any celebration duke min would attend, then it was that one. and he did attend.

but for him to appear at a regular ball held by the new king...

“alas, it is i and not some monstrous shapeshifter - i was hoping you’d spare me a dance, lady ___.” a gloved hand extends your way, hovering in the air as you scrutinize the man’s uncharacteristically smiling face - as though he’d found humor in your underlying tone.

his motives are unclear but the fact that you have his attention must mean your lead has lead to a fruitful discovery.

“why, this will pour oil to the flames,” you murmur under your breath - low enough for only him to hear and yet slip your own hand in his.

“so you’re friends with lady armwell,” the mellow tune of the cello pours into the room as a new song begins.

the feeling of the hand on your waist is unsettlingly gentle and careful - almost as though he’s fearful that your bones may break if he held on tighter.

“she only tearfully told me about the her brother’s unmanageable gambling habits, the information i gave you was out of my own findings - i can find out a plenty of many things for your grace if you choose to help me shake his majesty’s eyes off me,” you search for those crimson eyes as he twirls you around once, “i trust it’s been helpful to your grace, but if you are still unconvinced of my expertise-”

the bells of chuckles that drums in your ears are the last thing you expect to hear - quite frankly, the chances of gaining a threat for whatever reason is much higher than bearing witness to the duke’s laughter.

“there’s no need,” this time, his hair doesn’t brush over his eyebrows when he shakes his head, “you’ll make a fine fiance, ___.”

the lack of honorific doesn’t entirely go past you but that isn’t a material matter at the moment.

did he just said... fiance?

“your grace, unless my ears are-”

“yoongi.”

“p-pardon?” the warmth on your hip and hand seeps into you as he directs your body to move with the melody of the instruments, reminding you that there are hundred pairs of eyes on you and if the lady were to stop dancing all of a sudden, then there is no doubt of a new kind of rumor surfacing.

but judging from the way he dips his head and his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, you can almost hear the squeals and gossip that will fill tomorrow’s tea party, “since we’re engaged, shouldn’t we at least call each other by our names?”

words die in your throat, as does the music. you barely notice the hands that held you falling away as you watch the man take a step backwards and lower his head - so much for formalities after deciding to forego it just five seconds ago.

“i’ll send a letter tomorrow notifying my visit in three day’s time.” with that, you’re left staring like a fool at the black and red insignia engraved on the back of his jacket.

it is a moment later that isabelle and the other ladies begin to crowd you, that you finally come to your senses.

“it it true? you’re engaged to the duke of cralon?” lady irene’s beaming smile is far too close for your liking.

“calm down, lady irene. don’t make a-”

before lady krystal manages to finish her sentence, you already find yourself slipping past bodies and out of the ball room. your destination is unclear but you saw yoongi take a left and that could only mean that he’s heading towards the garden instead of the double doors of the exit.

lights line the tall walls surrounding the palace but you wouldn’t have spot the grey locks that appear almost white if not for the moonlight. the crimson dragons on either side of the shield symbolizes the min family’s pledge to protect the crown. the fact that he’s wearing this and not the official knight outwear means he’s not here as the head knight but as a-

“your grace,” you send a prayer to the goddess for the sternness in your tone but it easily dwindles down and hits the ground as you’re met with the echoing footsteps of the duke who doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

your temple throbs as the image of the duke’s handsome features come unnervingly close to you whilst he whispers-

“yoongi.” you almost scream.

it is settled knowledge that the duke of cralon possesses inhumane abilities that helped him and his predecessors win wars for the kingdom, cearis. if his unfailing reputation isn’t enough, then you’ve already seen how you would be completely helpless in his undetectable presence that night when you failed to notice him until he presents himself to seokjin and consequently you.

but in your haste to right the wrong, you’ve forgotten the possibility of abruptly calling his name ending up with your face buried in his chest when he whirls around to face you.

with cheeks that feels like they’re surrounded by a thousand suns, you quickly clear your throat after taking one step back. his raised eyebrow, however, tells you he thinks nothing of the minor mishap just now.

still, you meet yoongi’s gaze with a pair of knitted brows and a distraught tug in the corners of your lips, “i believe there’s been a misunderstanding, your grace,” the briefest lift of eyebrows as though he is painfully aware of the way you address him, doesn’t go unnoticed by you though you wish it would, “when i asked if i could stand by your side, i did not mean as your fiance - it makes me think you don’t trust me enough to believe that it wasn’t me who spread the rumor.”

“i do believe you,” he says simply, “but wouldn’t you say the rumor plays in your favor, ___?” there he goes again, addressing you informally, “since everyone saw us dancing together, they’ll feed into the rumor. it doesn’t matter if the king doesn’t buy into it. as of now, his position is vulnerable and if he were to break two lovers who are mad for each other apart and marry the other off in the name of political gain, the aristocrats won’t sit still.”

“so just now...” you trail off, the image of isabelle and the other nobles’ fallen jaws flashing at the back of your mind, “it was a return of favor because i helped solve the mystery of the missing shipments?”

“you don’t seem pleased,” his eyebrows begin to knit together.

“how can i be when i was not consulted of such plans prior to this?” the silence that lapses between you is no different than back in the parlor in your mansion, except yoongi seems to consider your request more seriously this time judging from the hard lines set upon his otherwise smooth forehead.

“then, what would you have suggested, ___?” the blinking red doesn’t seem too menacing now that he’s staring at you with genuine concern.

sighing, you curse yourself for admitting the truth in his words, “your grace is correct that the rumor gives us an advantage. however, next time we are to make a public appearance, i’d like to have a say on how it’s to be executed.”

his gaze lingers on you for the longest time - you’re not sure whether he’s debating on foregoing your investigative expertise or whether he should reveal to seokjin that this is all a faux. but what he does next could never have crossed your mind in the list of things he duke yoongi min could be thinking.

“i understand,” the figure in front of you dips to a bow, a gloved black hand levitating midair as a shadow casts itself over his gentle features and contrasting glowing eyes, “my apologies for acting without taking your feelings into consideration just now, lady ___.”

the title returns in his mouth yet your chest caves in displeasure. you’re not too fond of him calling you just by name but you’re not any glad that he’s back to using that honorific.

“v-very well, you’re forgiven,” you force out after realizing you’ve made him wait long enough, cheeks warm as you place your hand in his, eyes fixed on his lips that presses against your knuckles - they really are as soft as they look.

a halo encases his body when he stands straight. and if it weren’t for his abrupt remark, you would have pondered on the faintest hint of smile on his features, “now then, may i ask another favor from you, ___?”

another one? right after you assisted him in finding out the culprit?

“your grace may, though please bear in mind tonight doesn’t count as you returning the favor so you’ll be owing me two public appearances.” you shrug as casually as possible.

“that’s fair,” he nods a little too nonchalantly before getting to the point - and perhaps a tendril of regret wraps around your heart for agreeing without hearing his request first when he utters his next words-

“i wish us to call each other by our names - it’s suffocating to be so polite.” he sighs, hand ruffling his silvery tresses like a child tired of the etiquette lessons forced on him and not at all like the man that had you on the edge of your seat back in your mansion.

“th-that’s-” the words teeter on your tongue but refuse to leave your mouth as you fumble for a reason to object but the longer you stare into those indecipherable eyes, the emptier your mind gets and the harder your heart races.

“r-reasonable,” you stammer out, the flash of anticipation across the duke’s face leaving you no choice but to add, “yoongi.”

x

note. hello!! i’ve been working on this for a month or so (whew) bc i got super into historical au’s and just wanna write something without prince and princesses as the main leads and this happened!! hope you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward for more. drop your @ below if you want to be included the taglist!

[howlingday]

About Jaune ships...

I have opinions. You may not agree, but they are mine. They may change in time, but not now.

LANCASTER ( RUBY X JAUNE )

The old tried and true. I mean, what's not to like? Cute girl falls for first guy she meets at Beacon? Classic romance trope, and after reading how much Ruby loves romance stories (I consider certain parts in the manga canon), it makes sense. In fact, after Arkos sank (A moment of silence, please . . . Thank you), many moved to Lancaster, which isn't bad. Happens all the time in fandoms. Sad thing, though, is far I think she'll last. If we're talking Volume 5 or earlier, then maybe. However, I feel if Ruby were to have an endgame in romance, it would be RoseGarden (I have opinions on that as well, but today isn't the day to discuss that), mostly because Oscar bumped Jaune's role from male lead to male side. Not to mention that while Jaune is becoming a beast in his own right, Ruby is a different creature altogether and evolving her character more rapidly and chaotically than anyone else (Must be all that screentime).

TLDR: I want it to be canon, but I might just be hoping.

WHITE KNIGHT ( WEISS X JAUNE)

Doofus in tin foil meets princess who hates daddy (Am I in the romance section of the library? You know, the corner for adults only?) No, but I do like this ship. I'm always a sucker for the fantasy genre, and using a zero to hero male makes it relatable. I also kind of ship it because the same reason I ship NaruSaku in the Naruto fandom: he likes her and he's willing to go the distance. But enough about that; instead let's talk about canon. Will they hook up? It's a soft maybe for me, for two reasons. 1. Rosegarden is most likely to be endgame, and after Ruby and Pyrrha, I'd say Weiss is Jaune's next to be his love interest. 2. Weiss has warmed up to Jaune. Sure, not lover or crush level (Yet), but she's definitely changed her opinion on him. In Volume 1, Jaune was bugging her, like all the time, which I could see as him getting mixed signals on (Exhibit A: Tall, blonde, and scraggly). When Volume 5 came around, everyone jumped onboard because he saved her life (Don't lie, because I'll admit that I did it, too). Not the best reason, but still reason enough, I'd say. Then in Volume 7, she hangs out with him and Oscar to the movies (It was either that or awkward Bumbleby all night. I feel ya, sister). Nothing romantic happens, but it does show how much their relationship has developed. If Weiss is Jaune's endgame, then they have set the pieces up perfectly to do so.

TLDR: High likelihood to be canon and I'm a sucker for Knight/Princess ships.

KNIGHTSHADE ( BLAKE X JAUNE)

This is the part where I say definitely not. Not in a million years, but I'll explain why I like the ship, though. As for why it won't work, the answer is Bumbleby. They haven't kissed yet, but you know they're going to eventually (Because if they don't, the fans will attack like a swarm of hornets). But here's the question you might be asking now: why do I ship this? Well, it's part of the allure of "opposites attract" ('Cause I'm dressed like a cat!). Blake is an intelligent, outspoken, and agile ninja with a criminal history of terrorism who spends her free time reading novels. Jaune is a B at best on his tests, soft-hearted, and ground-based knight who's worst crime is fraud (Still a crime, but peanuts compared to literal terrorism) and spends his free time hanging out with his team. Day and night. But they also tried that with Sun for a season and a half and it didn't last (BECAUSE BEES).

TLDR: Not even a snowball's chance in the summer sun, but so much story potential if you do (Which I do)!

DRAGONSLAYER ( YANG X JAUNE )

This, I would say, is the opposite of Knightshade, where Jaune is the day and Blake is night, here Yang is the Sun and Jaune is the Moon (Like their crests! Remember those? Y'know, when they were relevant?) Will it work? Even less so than Knightshade. However, it does open up some interesting paths considering how... provocative Yang can be, and Jaune, compared to the other guys, is the nerdiest, geekiest dude at Beacon. It's like the cheerleader/nerd romance, except the cheerleader is the captain of every sports team... and rides a motorcycle. The Volume 8 preview introduced us to Yang and Jaune riding motorcycles and we went nuts over it. Yang was back in her element, roaring down the street, riding on walls, popping off tricks with Oscar riding- Back to what I was saying, people were asking, "How did he know how to ride a motorcycle?" and the elementary answer is "He didn't." He almost fell off his bike from a small box in the road. True, anyone would, but look at how he reacts: he stiffens, he refocuses on the road. This kid literally started riding at breakfast, and I DARE you to prove me wrong. But hey, great fic material right there, though, eh?

TLDR: Never gonna happen, but I don't care. All I care about is writing that they love each other. And they also fu-!

ARKOS ( PYRRHA X JAUNE )

I'm sorry, I need a moment. . . . Alright. Do it for her. This ship... was perfect. Probably the best ship out them all. I legit almost cry every time I think about Volume 3. Pyrrha was everyone's favorite. Her background, her interactions, her choreography, everything! But, of course, like everything in our lives, she was too good to be true. But let's honor her memory by talking about her ship, Arkos. Pyrrha was the champion of the world, the Brothers' and Oums' gift to Remnant. She could do no wrong and she HATED it. Her plight was with how she was seen. Everybody knew her! Everybody, except Jaune. And he only figured out she was "a big deal" was because Weiss had to spell it out for him! As time went on, they became the best of friends, two peas in a pod, the perfect odd couple! They worked together and trusted each other, they cared for and supported each other, they lo- No. No, I can't say it. It's been years, and it still hurts. So, I'll explain something else: the reason why Jaune SHOULD NOT be shipped right now. That reason is Pyrrha. Jaune was helpless to save her. He's suffering from survivor's guilt and he's still grieving. In Volume 4, he would sneak away and train until late at night to scroll recording of her. In Volume 5, he confronted Cinder and got Weiss almost killed because he let his grief for Pyrrha take control of him and let his emotions run wild. In Volume 6, he finds the Pyrrha statue and he... I don't know how to say this, but he let's go. He accepts that Pyrrha is gone and he's starting the healing process. He's finally ready to move forward.

TLDR: T.T I never felt that it was wise to wish too much~

MARTIAL ARCS ( REN X JAUNE)

I'll be honest, I don't really ship it. Yeah, it's cute, and it falls perfectly into the "if I had to pick a guy" part of me, but to be honest, I don't ship it. 10% because Renora and 90% it just doesn't click with me. They both just seem too soft, too quiet, too introverted. Best friends? Yes, definitely! But lovers? Eeeeeh, not really.

TLDR: I will only ship as neccessary.

NORA'S ARC ( NORA X JAUNE )

I've only just got in this deep with the fandom only recently, so I don't know if a lot of you know me. Heck, I'm probably just some RWBY fan you happen to spot as you move through your dash. However, old or new, I want to be made absolutely positively clear on this. Of all the ships here, this has got to be my-

O T FUDGIN' P

Wow! Never thought I'd feel so strongly about a crack ship like this. And yes, as sad it is to say, this is a crack ship. Renora was planned from day one, so it can't be helped. At least it didn't blast me in the face all of the sudden (OH NO, NOT THE BEES! AAAAARGH! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!). But why this ship? Well, for one thing, it's that whole opposites attract thing with Nora as the bubbly, outspoken, airhead powerhouse and Jaune as the soft spoken, introverted, nerd tactician. But wait, there's more to this trope, because it can go deeper: Order VS Chaos! Who makes all the messes? Who cleans up those messes? Who follows all the rules? Who makes their own doors? It's just. So. Damn! GOOD! One sad thing about this ship though is that it's not only not canon because of Renora, it's anti-canon because Renora. Every fan fic of Nora's Arc requires an explanation for Ren and Nora to not be together-together, like you have to write a formal apology to the FNDM for liking something that's different from what is canon or commonly accepted. If that's the case, then I'll be the anarchist here!

TLDR: I LOVE IT! What's that? Not canon? Who gives a damn?! I just explained why Jaune won't be shipped anyways! Now, if you'll excuse, I have some fan fics to find.

ARCFALL ( CINDER X JAUNE )

Oh, here it goes! Now, if we're talking ships that'll never happen, this is where we find better reasons than "it's not canon" and "character development". No, this... This is a declaration of war. Allow me to explain. Cinder Fall is evil. Like, down to her core. She wants power and she'll cut through anyone to get to it. Including Pyrrha. This woman sank Arkos by means other than "X and Y kissed, so..." She killed X, leaving Y alone. And her interactions with Jaune tell me she wouldn't even be worth a hate-bang. But, as Momma always, there's a thin line between love and hate. This is where the appeal comes in. Cinder is evil with no past, which leaves the previous chapter's of her life story blank to be filled in. Jaune is good with a troublesome, albeit easy past, but untapped potential for more. It's another opposites attract, but different from INTRO VS EXTRO and CHAOS VS ORDER; this is GOOD VS EVIL. Who will win this battle of wills; will our hero purify the tainted heart, or will he slip deeper into darkness, never to return to the light?

TLDR: Should be a NOTP, and yet the allure pulls me in.

What do y'all think? Do you agree? Let me know!

[pumpkinpaix]

Hi I don’t know if anyone has asked you this already, but do you find it strange that we are never given either of the Nie brothers’ given names nor Jin ZiXuan’s, when it’s common practice (at least in the show) to address yourself by your given and courtesy names?

Hey there! :D No, no one has asked me this yet, ahaha.

To be honest, I don’t find it strange, but that’s mostly because I think MXTX assigned names as it was convenient/as it suited her. I do think in some cases, you can try to find textual reasons, like limited POV (@hunxi-guilai made a post about how that might explain why Jiang Cheng is disproportionately referred to by birth instead of courtesy name here).

In the case of Jin Zixuan, I think that makes a lot of sense. Since mdzs and cql are largely from Wei Wuxian’s POV, and he clearly already knows Jin Zixuan, there’s no need for him to reintroduce himself, which is usually where we get people mentioning both their names. I don’t have any textual reasoning for the Nie bros’ lack of birth names ahahaha.

I will, however, use this as a springboard to mention a few things I find generally interesting about the way naming conventions appear to vary between sects/interesting points about address in general. There’s like no deep meta here, just like. “I noticed this thing, and I think it’s interesting”. (hope that’s okay /o\)

One: The Jin sect is the only sect that uses generational character markers (Guang, Zi, Ru). Establishing that convention makes Jin Guangyao’s courtesy name a massive slap in the face I think. (a, for giving him the wrong generational marker, which implies that he’s never actually going to be recognized as a son/that jgs really just didn’t care to even get it right, and b, for reusing his birth character instead of bothering to give him something new–every other character who has a birth and courtesy name gets two entirely unique names, but not jgy.) It’s a cool way of implying certain things about his status, how his father regards him without stating it outright, how others might see him because of that etc.

Two: The Wen sect appears to almost exclusively use birth name–in fact, the only two characters from the Wen sect revealed to have courtesy names are Wen Ning (Wen Qionglin) and…. Wen Ruohan. Well, and Wen Zhuliu, but he was originally Zhao Zhuliu, so idk if that really counts, since his courtesy name predates his induction into the Wen sect. Wen Qing, Wen Chao, and Wen Xu are referred to by birth name only by both themselves and everyone around them for the entirety of the story, which seems rather strange, given that all of them are high-ranking members of the family (Wen Xu is the heir??). Sizhui is not given a courtesy name by his birth family, but by Lan Wangji.

(an aside, it’s been mentioned before by others, but historically, courtesy names were bestowed upon adulthood; however, in CQL, we see Wei Wuxian picking out Jin Ling’s courtesy name before he’s born. it’s possible this is a practice that differs from sect to sect, but again, very little to no textual support for that speculation ahahaha)

Wen Ning’s courtesy name is used only once by Wei Wuxian in a moment of extreme distress at the Guanyin temple. It reads, to me, like switching registers to indicate the high emotional levels of the situation rather than anything about respect/social relations, in the same way that like, lwj switching between “wei ying/wei wuxian” can indicate moments where emotions are running high. I hc that the intimacy/distance of birth/courtesy names are switched in the case of Wen Ning/Wen Qionglin (ie, only people who are intimate with him would be expected use Qionglin) but that has absolutely zero basis in any fact, cultural convention, or textual evidence. I just like it because it warms my heart. feel free to roast me for it, i can accept that criticism.

Three: Both the Lan sect and the Nie sect address by courtesy name, even within their own family. (Lan Qiren calls his nephews “Wangji” and “Xichen”. Sizhui and Jingyi call each other by courtesy name. Nie Mingjue calls his brother “Huaisang”.) Why? we don’t know! We could maybe try and meta about it in the case of the Lan sect, I think (they’re more formal in general etc.), but we have so little knowledge of the Nie sect that I think it’s functionally pointless to try and dig there. I feel like trying to come up with any plausibly supported reason is going to be a stretch.

Four: A’Cheng vs A’Xian. Jiang Yanli uses Jiang Cheng’s birth name to form his diminutive, but uses Wei Wuxian’s courtesy name to form his. I’ve seen people ask why she doesn’t call him A’Ying, which would be more consistent, but I hc that this is because “Wuxian” was given by her father, so her using “A’Xian” is meant to strengthen that familial tie. “Ying” is from before he was part of their family. “Wuxian” is something given to him by the Jiang family, so using it, I think, is a subtle way of emphasizing how much she really considers him to be her brother. (If you’re curious, in the flashback when he first arrives at Lotus Pier, the audio drama has her calling for him as “A’Ying”.)

Five: Yu-fu’ren. I mentioned this on an addition to another post a while ago, but I’ll copy the relevant passage from chapter 51 here again:

虞夫人就是江澄的母亲，虞紫鸢。当然，也是江枫眠的夫人，当初还曾是他的同修。照理说，应该叫她江夫人，可不知道为什么，所有人一直都是叫她虞夫人。有人猜是不是虞夫人性格强势，不喜冠夫姓。对此，夫妇二人也并无异议。

Yu-fu’ren was Jiang Cheng’s mother, Yu Ziyuan. Of course, she was also Jiang Fengmian’s wife [fu’ren], and once cultivated with him as well. By all reason, she should be called Jiang-fu’ren, but for some unknown reason, everyone had always called her Yu-fu’ren. Some guessed that perhaps because Yu-fu’ren had a forceful temperament, she disliked taking her husband’s name. Neither husband nor wife raised any objections to this.

I think this is actually a pretty interesting microcosm of the themes of mdzs. We don’t actually know why Yu Ziyuan is called Yu-fu’ren; we’re given the equivalent of a rundown on local gossip and that’s it. I feel like it embodies a little bit of the “what people say about you becomes the truth and then influences your fate” theme that runs through mdzs. Did Yu Ziyuan WANT to be called Yu-fu’ren? Did she request it? Is her husband actually fine with it? The audience doesn’t get any of their internal landscape and is instead given a leading interpretation of the situation. How is our opinion of her then influenced?

To be clear, I don’t necessarily think that was necessarily the intention of this passage (maybe it was! or maybe mxtx just wanted to call her yu-fu’ren and realized she had to come up with some justification for it. i really couldn’t tell you); I just think that regardless of intention, its existence in relation to the larger themes of the novel can present a cool juxtaposition, if you dig a little bit.

Six: Song Lan, a respected cultivator, is more often referred to by his birth name, including people who are not intimate with him (normally, this would be rude), while Xiao Xingchen (who is intimate with him) calls him by courtesy name. Why?? We also don’t know. Does this lend support to my earlier headcanon about Wen Ning/Qionglin having a reversed intimacy/distance implication?? not… not really, but I like to think it at least kind of shows a precedent….. orz.

Seven: I find Xue Yang’s courtesy name, Xue Chengmei (成美), really fun ahaha. It comes from the phrase, 君子成人之美, an idiom that essentially means, “a gentleman always helps others attain their wishes”. Jin Guangyao gave it to him (not sure if this is canonical or extracanonical–i heard about it in an audio drama extra, much like how i get all my information orz) which I think is greatly amusing for obvious reasons.

Eight: Lan Wangji actually changes Sizhui’s birth name, even though you wouldn’t be able to tell just from hearing it. His original birth name is 苑, an imperial garden, but Lan Wangji changes it to 愿, as in wish (愿望) and to be willing (愿意), among other very beautiful sentiments. partially im sure to protect his identity, but also because. you know.

Basically all this is just to say, I think the naming/address conventions in mdzs are pretty weakly conceived, but you can find interesting things in them if you go looking! and we all know i love to go looking /o\