#I haven’t drawn him much yet but I can feel myself falling deeper into the soundwave hole

[soapbbox]

Like does the high guard know about what’s been going on or

Technically a continuation of this

[nev3rfound]

someone i once knew : b.b

bucky is left alone in the compound whilst the rest of the avengers are sent on a mission. yet, to bucky’s surprise he isn’t alone as he’s about to meet tony’s new assistant and someone from his past. (3.4k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

“You sure you’ll manage on your own?” Steve asks as he walks alongside Bucky.

Bucky quirks a brow at his oldest friend. “What, you don’t trust me?” He quips back, hearing Sam let out a dry laugh from the quinjet as he helps load the last of the supplies. “He doesn’t get an opinion.” Bucky adds, and Steve chuckles under his breath.

“I do trust you, Buck. But I just wanna make sure you’re okay being on your own here.” Steve explains, crossing his arms as Bucky buries his hands into his jacket pockets.

It was going to be Bucky’s first time being completely alone in the compound. Everyone else was required for a mission, and Bucky simply wasn’t needed this time. Initially, it stung a little- that Sam was going over him, but some downtime never hurt anyone, right?

“I’ll be alright, Steve.” Bucky states as Tony emerges from the elevator, huffing loudly as he looks at his phone.

“Oh, tin man? Do me a favour and don’t scare my new assistant,” Tony calls out, and Bucky looks to Steve who simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Since when did you hire an assistant?” Steve asks, and Tony stops beside them, locking his phone as he puts it into his pocket.

“Since I lost the last one,” Tony retorts.

“You married your old assistant, Tony.” Bucky comments and Tony simply rolls his eyes.

“Just, don’t scare her off, she has potential.” Tony remarks before carrying on toward the Quinjet, leaving Steve to bid farewell to Bucky.

Stepping back, Bucky rolls on his heels. “Guess I won’t be completely alone after all.” Bucky huffs. It is one thing to be alone in the compound with one of the other Avengers, but someone he hasn’t even met yet, that’s a level of confidence and comfortability he has yet to reach.

“Hey,” Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder. “you’ll be fine, just be your charming self.”

“I think he died back in the forties, pal.” Bucky mutters as he shrugs it off, it’s only for a few weeks at most.

“Just, don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says softly as he steps back from Bucky, turning around toward the Quinjet.

Shuffling on the spot, Bucky watches as they leave. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky mumbles to himself as he walks back into the compound, wandering whereabouts his company for the next few weeks is hiding out.

*

It had been a quiet few days and Bucky had still yet to meet the newest addition to Starks team and started to wonder if Tony was messing with him for the fun of it.

At least, he thought as much until he was training in the gym when the faint sound of the piano caught his attention.

Pausing his work out, Bucky couldn’t stop his curiosity from getting the better of him as he exits the gym, hearing a familiar melody clearly coming from the shared living space in the compound.

As stealthily as possible, Bucky enters the open space and can make out a figure sat at the usually absent grand piano. Tony purchased it a year ago to fill the space, even though no one could play, it did work in making the compound look somewhat homely.

Stepping further into the room, Bucky knew the song, his Mother always played it on her radio and witnessed her and his Father dancing to it.

Humming the tune, you remain oblivious to the company creeping into the room as you remain concealed by the bonnet of the piano.

“Wake and dream medley?” Bucky speaks up, and you jump in your seat, hitting the keys of the piano causing an awful blunt sound to echo in the open space. “Sorry,” Bucky adds, now retreating into himself as you remain hidden. “I, I could hear you from the gym, I love, loved that song.”

“No need to apologise,” You chuckle, and Bucky tenses upon hearing your voice.

It sounds so familiar, too familiar for his liking.

Rising to your feet, you rub your hands together before closing the bonnet of the piano, now in full view to Bucky who can feel his whole body shutting down.

Bucky steps back in disbelief, clinging onto the sofa behind him with all his might as you hesitantly step forward. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, Mr Stark had me doing a fair bit of paperwork so I’ve been holed up in my suite for the past few days.” You explain, but Bucky can’t seem to meet your gaze. “I’m Y/n,”

You extend your arm, holding your hand out to Bucky who stares in disbelief.

“Is this some kinda cruel joke?” Bucky questions, slowly looking up at your confused expression. “Y/n, is it really you?” He stares at you, but your confusion only deepens as you lower your arm back to your side.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but Bucky continues to eye you with evident shock. “Have we met before?”

A dry laugh leaves Bucky’s lips as he straightens himself up. “Do you not know me?” His voice is breaking as you shake your head, and Bucky can feel the moment of relief in his heartbreak once again.

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else?” You nervously laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Bucky simply nods and straightens himself up. “I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. And I do apologise for that, you just remind me of an old friend.” Bucky brushes it off, knowing it’s not possible, it just can’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky,” You tell him with a smile, one that Bucky once knew and loved, but he forces himself to remove that thought, it isn’t her. “the song I, I guess it was from your time?” You ask, moving back over to the piano and opening the bonnet.

“Yeah,” Bucky walks over, leaning against it as you take a seat, resuming the melody as if you had never paused. “I remember it growing up. How come you know it?”

Your fingers glide over the keys effortlessly and your eyes close for a moment. Whilst they’re closed, Bucky takes the chance to look at you properly, noting your distinct features, identical to the girl he once knew.

“I’m not sure,” You admit, lifting your fingers from the keys as you glance up at Bucky. “I, I just do.” Your brows furrow together, and Bucky notes how you look back at the piano.

“Well, it’s a nice song, so thank you for playing it.” Bucky speaks up. “I’ll be around, so I’ll be seeing you.” He mutters before exiting the room and rushes back to the gym, barely hearing you saying goodbye.

Once Bucky is gone, you look back at the piano. There’s no sheet music, but you knew the song, you knew the exact keys to play and the words as you hummed along.

There was something about Bucky, something amicable and undeniably so. You could feel it in the back of your mind, a nagging sensation to remember, remember something, anything. Yet, as always nothing follows through.

*

You and Bucky had been living in the compound for an entire week, and you had only come across him three times in total. The first at the piano, the second was after an attempted run; Bucky watched as you reentered the compound soaking from head to toe after being caught in a rainstorm. You tried to make a joke, but Bucky merely grumbled and walked off in the opposite direction. And the third well, that was this morning.

The smell of burnt toast woke you up, and you rushed from your suite to the shared floor where the kitchen is located.

“Stupid toaster,” Bucky groans under his breath as he throws the toast into the bin, slamming the lid shut with his metal hand, nearly leaving an indent.

“You alright there?” Your voice is so soft, and Bucky can feel the tension between his shoulders ease.

Lifting his metal arm up, Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just got distracted.” He shrugs as he turns around to look at you in your pyjamas, just a t-shirt and joggers. A lot more casual than the girl he remembers in the forties.

“Happens to the best of us,” You joke, moving past him to grab a mug. “want one?” You hold a second mug up, and Bucky nods.

He remains quiet as you pour him a cup and slide it across the counter to him. “Look alive!” You call out, and he grasps it firmly.

Silence falls between you both as you look over your shoulder to see Bucky holding the mug in his metal fingers, a distant gaze over his eyes. “Real smooth, Y/n.” Bucky eventually speaks up, followed by a short laugh as he raises the mug to his lips.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit, now leaning against the counter.

Laughter fills the bar as soldiers pass through with open arms and cheers for a new day. “Hey, look alive!” You yell as you slide across a bottle of beer to the brunette soldier.

“Thanks, Y/n.” His bright blue eyes focus on yours as he winks before patting his blond friend on the shoulder and walks closer toward you, yet the closer he gets, the more blurred he becomes. “Y-”

“Y/n?” Bucky calls out, snapping you from your thoughts. “You in there?”

“Sorry,” You look up from your mug, forcing a small smile. “got a bit lost in my head for a moment.” You mutter. “I, I’m going to go get ready.” You sip at your coffee and head out from the kitchen, leaving Bucky perplexed as he hears you running and swearing from in the hallway towards the elevator.

So, your encounters with Bucky haven’t exactly been the best. Yet, there’s something about him that you’re drawn to but scared of. His cool exterior doesn’t intimidate you, you know his history, you know all of the Avengers’ history. However there is a part of you that feels like you know Bucky somehow on a deeper level than what you've read in his files.

Rushing through your suite, you gather the necessary files before heading out to the elevator. You knew you shouldn’t have left it to the last minute to get the meeting scheduled.

As the metal doors open, Bucky steps aside, his blue eyes focused on his feet. “Which floor?” He asks.

“Two, please.” You respond, and silence ensues over you both.

It was becoming harder and harder for Bucky to not see the Y/n he once knew in you, this version of her or a copy. You twitched your nose the same way when you laughed, your hair smells like vanilla and you add small quirks to the same words.

“Y/n, do you ever have the feeling that you’ve met someone, in a previous life?” Bucky asks out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

“I, er,” You stumble over your words as you reach level two. “I’ll get back to you on that one, Bucky.” You tell him before exiting the elevator and carry on rushing to the conference room for your meeting with Pepper.

“Thought as such.” Bucky sighs as the doors close, leaving him alone with his memories of you once more.

*

“What’re you doing up here? You’ll freeze!” You laugh giddily as you wrap your arms around yourself, seeing Bucky sat with a blanket draped over his shoulders despite the early spring chill.

“I’ve endured worse, doll.” It rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, his treasured nickname for his girl.

Yet, you smile at the nickname, swearing you’ve heard it before. You contemplate a response, but leave it and walk closer, sitting beside Bucky.

“So, what are you doing up here? Am I that bad?” You nudge him playfully and without a second thought, Bucky lifts the blanket up, allowing you to curl into the soft fabric for much-needed warmth.

“You never could be, Y/n, trust me.” Bucky sighs sadly as he looks up to the stars, aware of you studying him closely, your eyes burning into each of his features. “I’m sorry if I’ve acted a little off this past week, I, I’m still adjusting to well, everything.” Bucky tries to ease his growing nerves as you scoot closer, the fragrance of your perfume encroaching into his nostrils like old times.

“You’ve been just fine, Bucky.” You reassure him as a faint smile forms on his lips.

“I’d know if you’re lyin’ to me, doll.” Bucky turns to face you, kneeling down as you cross your arms playfully, refusing to speak up. “Well, I guess you leave me no choice.” He mutters, and before you can react his hands grab your hips and he starts tickling you senselessly.

“Calm down, soldier!” You laugh happily. “Will you stop?!” You breathe out as his hands rise further up from your waist, pausing as he holds your face, smiling smugly to you, knowing you were truly hooked.

“So, I was just fine then, doll?” Bucky raises a brow as you nod, his hands bringing you closer as he breathes out a sigh into your lips. “Well, I guess I’ve got a few things to work on.”

“That you do mister.” You mutter before kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as hollers from across the road sound, and the faint call of your name interrupts you once more.

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you, and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay? You went all quiet on me for a minute.” He half laughs, seeing tears forming in your eyes as you shake your head.

“I, I’m not.” You admit, letting the tears fall. “I, you asked me earlier about feeling as if you’ve met someone in another life,” You trail off, seeing Bucky nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, feeling the remaining strings attached to his heart hoist it up, hoping they won’t fray at this final attempt. “it was dumb, I know.” He brushes it off.

“No, it’s not.” You tell him defiantly. “I, I keep having these memories of sorts, but I can’t make out any faces.” You rub your eyes. “Every day there’s this nagging sensation to remember something, to recognise someone I believe I knew, like there's this guy and I think he's someone I’m meant to know.” You explain, and Bucky can feel the restraints in his heart tightening, the cogs in your brain now turning.

“I know the feeling,” Bucky comments. “when HYDRA had me, they wiped my mind of everything, any memories of my life before and brainwashed me into their weapon. It’s kinda funny really, it was all still in there, and it slowly started to come back.”

“How did you know which memories were real?” Your voice softens as you home in on his blue eyes, watching as they twitch under your gaze. “Like, which weren’t misconstrued.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I just, I do.” He murmurs. “So, this guy, what’s he like?” Bucky changes the subject as a smile forms on his lips as you laugh lightly.

“I wish I knew,” A light shiver crosses your body, and Bucky pulls the blanket off of him, wrapping it around you. “he’s just, this amazing guy who, who is funny, and caring. I have these snippets of what I believe was our life together, but it doesn’t make any sense.” You ramble, trying your best to comprehend everything.

“Take your time.” Bucky reassures you.

“These ‘memories’ I’m having, they take place in the past- that much I know. But I know my life, I know the year I was born, I have memories of my childhood and I know my family.” You explain, feeling your eyes welling up with tears as your frustration and confusion increases. “How can I have memories of a life I’ve never lived?”

"Maybe you can." Whistling into the breeze, Bucky shuffles and turns to face you. “Try and focus on one detail, okay? Do you trust me?”

You search his eyes for any uncertainty, and you nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

“Thanks, Bucky." Silence falls between you both, stifling the cool air. "I, I better go in before I catch a cold.” You rise to your feet, removing the blanket and hand it back to him. “Can’t have Mr Stark complaining about me coughing senselessly on a conference call.” A light laugh escapes your lips as you wave to Bucky before heading back inside.

As the door closes behind you, Bucky blankly stares out at the sky. “Oh, doll.” Bucky pleads to the stars. “Please remember.”

Now back on your floor, tears freely cascade down your cheeks as you sob into your hand, barely able to reach your door before you fall to the ground. “Come on,” You cry, feeling snippets of memories colliding together of the childhood you knew versus one you don’t recall, two boys by your side at all times.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you shut the door to your suite behind you, hearing laughter echo in your mind.

“Steve! Stop, I need to keep my dress clean!” You plead, looking down at the splashes of mud coating the hem of your dress.

“I warned you, punk.” Bucky sighs, hitting Steve over the back of the head with the newspaper. “You still look beautiful, Y/n.” Bucky winks to you, watching as you roll your eyes in response.

“Thanks, James.” You mutter, ignoring the burning of your cheeks as you reach your front steps. “I’ll see you boys later, seven still good?” You ask, looking between the pair as they nod. “Okay, well, don’t get in too much trouble without me.” You chuckle before turning on your heels and head up the front steps, unlocking your front door as the radio plays faintly.

“James?” You whisper to yourself, rushing over to the nearest mirror. “My name is Y/n Y/l/n. I am twenty-four years old. This is my home. My parents are Y/M/N and Y/D/N.” You recite, staring at yourself in the mirror. “This is who you are.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you step away from your mirror and fall into your bed.

“Ms Y/l/n?” FRIDAY calls out, and you quickly sit upright.

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Tony is calling you, would you like to answer?” The AI asks, and you groan into your pillow, it’s not like you couldn’t answer your employer.

“Sure, FRIDAY.” You reply, reaching over for your phone and answer the call from Tony. “Hey Mr Stark, how’s the mission going?” You feign positivity as you force a bright smile. Even if Tony cannot see you, the walls have eyes.

“Hey, Y/n, I told you before, call me Tony. We’re on our way back now, I just wanted to make sure the tin man hasn’t been causing you any trouble.” Tony asks, moving away from other voices in the background.

Your eyes rise to your closed door, picturing Bucky mere minutes ago by your side, trying to help you remember him, James Buchanan Barnes, your James.

“Jam-” You cut yourself off and move the phone away from your ear, allowing a moment to compose yourself for your boss. “Bucky’s been fine, I promise Mr, sorry, Tony.” You chuckle uneasily, but Tony doesn’t question it.

“Well good to hear, listen we’ll be back in an hour, and you can meet the rest of the team in the morning. Get some rest, Y/n.” Tony tells you and hangs up before you can respond, leaving you alone once more with the impending thoughts weighing heavy in your mind.

“This is who you are.” You repeat like a mantra as you lie back down in your bed, wishing tomorrow would never come.

P A R T  T W O 

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[gohyuck]

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno​ @domjaehyun​ @waithyuck​ for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day. 

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong. 

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage. 

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned. 

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur. 

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye. 

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up. 

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer. 

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple. 

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be. 

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe. 

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together. 

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal. 

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response. 

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either. 

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now. 

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is. 

nobody is the warrior that jeno is. 

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.” 

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy. 

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here. 

he is real. he is here. 

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights. 

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips. 

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin. 

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one. 

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that. 

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face. 

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips. 

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours. 

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy. 

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach. 

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body. 

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own. 

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body. 

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way. 

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you. 

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it. 

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded. 

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that. 

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him. 

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing. 

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath. 

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care. 

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours. 

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed. 

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe. 

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want. 

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need. 

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”  

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?” 

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want. 

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper. 

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced. 

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again. 

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet. 

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full. 

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want. 

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly. 

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately. 

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.” 

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit. 

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer. 

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows. 

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan. 

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side. 

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware. 

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does. 

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops. 

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind. 

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment. 

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love. 

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Wait For Me (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: smut, pwp

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: yikes switch!reader, switch!Jimin (but mostly dom), needy!Jimin, horny-ass-mf!Jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, ruined orgasm, post-orgasm torture, dirty talk, overstimulation, 69(?), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, pet names, begging, dirty talk, omg so much dirty talk I’m going crazy

(A/N): Am I the only one that’s into dirty talk like this? Maybe. But did I enjoy writing this? Absolutely. Kinda for Jimin’s birthday but really just me needing an excuse to be a sl*t in writing.

“Please, (Y/n)?” Your boyfriend whines from his spot on the bed, the tent in his boxers already pitched to full height behind you.

“No! Wait until I’m finished.” You huff in frustration, trying your hardest to focus on the words in front of you. It’s a stuffy Sunday night like any other, you sitting at your desk doing your homework at the last minute and Jimin reclining on your shared mattress doing whatever the hell he wants. Except, tonight all he wants to do is you. You’ve been prancing around the house in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties all day, teasing him playfully and laughing whenever he would get worked up. You thought it was funny how easily you could get him hard without trying, but it doesn’t seem so funny now when he keeps begging to fuck you while you’re desperately trying to complete your homework.

“You promised we would fuck tonight!” His pout is evident in the tone of his voice but you refuse to look at him. If you do, you just might give in.

“We will, but I have to finish this assignment first. It’s due at midnight, so I really need to get it done right now.” It’s your fault for waiting until the night of to work on this, but you wrongfully assumed that Jimin would understand and let you work in peace. All you have to do is complete a short reading and take a 10 question quiz and then you’re free, but what should have been a 15 minute endeavor has now turned into an hour and a half of arguing and rereading the same 3 sentences over and over. It’s getting ridiculous.

“You said you wouldn’t take long, but I’ve been sitting here ALL NIGHT waiting for you.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up!” You snap, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. His mouth falls open before he frowns, puffing his cheeks out cutely for no one to see. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you don’t question it and instead take his momentary silence to speed through a page.

The silence continues for a couple of minutes and you swear you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your seat. There’s some shuffling on the bed, more silence, and just when you begin to think he’s found something useful to do instead of bothering you, you hear a groan. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

He’s closer than he was before— probably sitting on the edge of the bed facing you now— and it almost feels like he’s breathing down your neck with how clear his voice sounds now. You scoot your chair up slightly to escape him. The sound of friction fills the space of the room, the image of his hand wrapped around his dick floating around your mind even when you refuse to look at him. He pumps fairly slowly, his eyes still glued to your back.

“Mmm, I’m so fucking hard, baby.” Jimin moans to you, trying to coax you into turning your head to see him. “I’ve been hard all day because of you and now you won’t even look at me? Such a bad girl.” You roll your eyes, tuning him out as best you can. Yet, you can’t seem to ignore the wet squelch that fills your ears when he rolls over his head. He moans louder this time. “Since you won’t look at me, I guess I’ll just have to tell you what I’m doing. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything.”

At your sigh, he chuckles, the sound dark and mischievous in a way that makes you ball up your fists. “Jimin,” You warn, but he knows the threat holds no real substance.

“My cock is so red right now, just aching to fuck your tight little pussy, princess. It’s leaking already, can you hear it? All that precum just for you.” You close your eyes, envisioning the sight you’ve seen so many times, but your eyes snap open when you remember your objective and turn the page of your book. “I want you so bad, want you to lick it all up and take me into your throat. Fuck. My hand feels nothing like that hot mouth of yours.” His strokes are longer now, dragging breathy, rhythmic pants from him.

You’d be lying if you said his voice wasn’t making you wet, but you won’t let him know that. He’ll be at this for a while, you know how much he likes to tease himself, so you try your hardest to get used to his rhythm and make it background noise as you progress through the reading. But the words on the pages don’t seem nearly as interesting as the words he feeds you from his plump lips.

“My head is so sensitive, princess, I can barely even touch it without almost cumming.” He grunts, gasping every time his hand nears his tip. You lick your lips, shifting in your seat, an action he catches onto. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing me cum all over myself while fucking my hand? Calling your name as I make a mess all over myself and our bedsheets?” The bed squeaks and you can only imagine that it’s from his hips bucking into his fist, picking up speed as he speaks. Your clit throbs annoyingly, and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips between your legs to rub over your panties. Thankfully, he doesn’t see this, probably because his head is thrown back as he lets out a series of moans.

You’re sensitive. More sensitive than you realized. And you almost let out a sound of your own when he curses. And for a brief moment— a split second— you contemplate abandoning your work and indulging him just to end your suffering. But no, you can’t give in that easily, you have less than a half hour to do your assignment. You’ll keep your hand where it is, however.

“Feels so fucking good,” Jimin lets out a drawn out moan, slowing his pace and working his hand again so you can hear it slapping against the skin of his abdomen. It’s loud and wetter than before, making you gush in your underwear at the thought of how worked up he’s getting. “I know how much you like playing with my balls,” You hear the grin in his voice. “So I’ll play with them a little for you, baby.” The obscene moan that falls from his mouth makes your eyes roll, the material of your panties completely soaked now at how desperate he sounds. You can’t help but to rub yourself to him, willing yourself not to turn around. “I wanna feel that tight little pussy bouncing on my cock, princess. So wet that you drip and cream down my balls as you ride this big cock til you cum, and beg me to cum deep inside your hot cunt. Will- oh shit- will you let me cum inside you tonight, baby? Let me cum deep inside and fill you up so you’re dripping me for days?” His voice is heavy with lust, it’s tone dipping deeper as his moans pitch higher. You assume it’s a rhetorical question so you don’t respond. “Hmm? Are you wet thinking about my cock and cum filling you up, (Y/n)?”

“No.” You lie through your teeth, voice surprisingly stable despite how your fingers move rapidly over your clothed clit. You can feel your wetness through the fabric now, and you just know there will be a stain on your chair when you get up, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“No?” He asks teasingly. “You okay over there? You haven’t turned a page in a while.” Damn him for being so observant. You almost forgot you were reading, the words all jumbled up on the page as your focus is pulled away by the pleasure. Fuck it, you’ll just take the quiz now to get it over with and accept whatever score you get. Jimin watches  in amusement as you turn to your laptop, clicking open the quiz hurriedly and starting the questions, zooming through the first 5. He lets out a short laugh at that. “You better hurry, I’m getting close.”

Sucking in through his teeth, you hear him speed up again, spitting onto himself to make the glide smoother, and your core clenches in want. You read question #6 four times before you comprehend what it’s asking, your body betraying you as it yearns for you to look over at your stubborn boyfriend who curses out your name.

“Listen to that sound, princess. That’s what it would sound like if I was fucking you right now. God, I should just bend you over that desk and take you right here for making me wait like this. Make you take every inch of this cock and see if you can ignore me then.” He nearly growls this, an inaudible whimper squeezing from your throat. You would love that. He’s done it before, pushed you up against the desk and had his way with you when you thought it would be funny to give him a strip tease after he ordered you to get on the bed one wine-laced night. But he doesn’t deserve to have you like that after torturing you like this.

Only 3 more questions left and he’s getting more needy, the whiny quality of his voice letting you know how close he is before his words. A noise that you’re all too familiar with fills the air and you freeze. It’s quick and sloppy, the sound of his hand focusing directly on his tip at an inhuman speed that not even you could reproduce. His moans follow the pace, each one getting longer and pitchier, and you can almost hear how his hips lift off the sheets.

“You better not cum.”

“You want me to edge? But I’ve been on edge all day, baby.” He complains. Against your better judgment, you whip your head around to look at him. There, he sits naked on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide as he leans back on one elbow, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other stroking slowly at his thick cock upon your request. It’s red and leaking just like he said, the glistening tip causing your mouth to water. Jimin’s head is thrown back to expose his sweaty neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, eyes shut in pleasure. But once he realizes that you’re looking at him, he snaps his head up to meet your gaze and sends you a shit-eating grin at the flushed look on your face. Then, he resumes working at his head, arching his hips up in the most erotic sight you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing. That’s the last straw.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum!” You growl.

You click random answers on the last few quiz questions, hitting submit and slamming your laptop shut before stomping over to him, slapping his hand away as you clamber up onto the bed, pushing him down aggressively and throwing a leg over his chest to face his erection. It jumps at you, so painfully hard that you almost feel bad for him. But Jimin doesn’t deserve your pity right now. Not long after your hand finds him, your mouth fits over the soft tip.

“Fuuuuuck.” He grunts, hands finding your ass instantly. The crotch of your panties are soaked all the way through, the dark spot causing a smirk to cross his lips. “Why did you lie to me, princess? I thought you said you weren’t wet?” For some reason, hearing him say this makes you even wetter, and you suck in a breath through your nose when his fingers come up to touch your core, a deep hum vibrating through his body that ends in a chuckle. “Absolutely drenched, baby. Were you touching yourself over there? Your clit is so swollen I can see it through your panties.”

His voice hitches at the end of his sentence as you sink all the way down on him, pushing yourself to take him all the way into your throat just like he wanted, the tip of your nose resting at his balls. It’s partially payback for his teasing, but you adore the response you get from him as he nearly chokes on air from the sudden stimulation. You bob a few times, a delightful lightheaded feeling overtaking you as you hold your breath and force yourself to keep him in your throat. Your reward is that you finally shut him up, Jimin now at a loss of words beneath you and shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck into your mouth. Smirking, you pull off of him, dropping your ass down a bit until your core grazes his lips, and he gets the hint immediately. Always the eager lover, he pulls the crotch of your underwear to the side, groaning at the strings of arousal that cling to it. The sight makes his mouth water, his tongue lurching forward to lick a long stripe up your slit, gliding back down to suck at your engorged clit.

Your moan is muffled around him, working the top half of his shaft while one hand accommodates the rest, and your jaw is already starting to hurt from his size. Although he’s generally a small person, Jimin’s cock is anything but. Your jaw fell to the floor the first time he dropped his pants, the girth surprising you pleasantly. He’s got an impressive width that left you sore for a few days and a length that is well above average. His balls always seem plump and heavy, ready for you to milk them dry, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching up and grabbing them, massaging the plush sacs for your own amusement.

“Oh f- you’re so good at this.” He cuts himself off with a gasp, kissing the inside of your thighs and biting hickies into them as his mind becomes cloudy. He’s close— if the slight movement of his hips is any indication— and an evil idea pops into your mind. His hips thrust upwards at a particularly hard suck at his tip and you gag at the sudden depth, Jimin nearly yelling out at how your throat closes around him. “Yesss, baby girl, choke on my dick.” You preen at his praise, but keep your composure.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Your hips push back into him, covering his mouth with your lower lips, and he continues his work enthusiastically to distract himself. You’ve switched to using just your tongue now, licking up and down the solid shaft and circling around the head, providing just enough stimulation to inch him closer to the edge but no longer giving him what he wants. What he wants is a hard and fast orgasm. You’ll make sure that’s not what he gets. His groans increase in volume and frequency as you work your magic tongue, flicking over that sensitive fold of skin where his tip attaches to the rest of him, and it’s not long before he’s trembling.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles out a shaky warning, and you have to push down his hips with one hand when they begin to lift off the bed, your other hand jerking steadily at his base while you tease over his slit with the tip of your tongue. The pressure builds, his balls lifting in preparation for his release, and you coax it out of him with a few gentle sucks. “Ah!”

Jimin lets out a high pitched groan sounding almost in pain when you pull off of him, squeezing at his base so hard that only a few short spurts of cum make it out. Your mouth has been completely removed from him, it’s only connection being the long strand of saliva hanging from your lips, and he bucks up frantically in search of stimulation to complete his orgasm. Still rock hard, he practically begs you to move your hand, to give him anything as the few lonely globs of semen sadly skid down onto your hand like tears from his one-eyed monster. His mouth is covered by your pussy so you can’t hear his pleas, but the vibrations they send to your core are absolutely delightful. Once you’re sure he’s finished cumming, you begin your evil plan.

It starts with a few slow pumps, lubed by his own semen from his length that’s still twitching in your hand, but it quickly escalates to firm and steady strokes that have him squirming under you. You aren’t even going that fast, but the sensitivity makes him thrash and cry out prettily as you hold him down with your body weight. Jimin’s into all kinds of freaky shit, so this isn’t the first time you’ve indulged in post orgasm torture, but it’s somehow very different when he’s not expecting it. Your hand moves at an unyielding pace, unbothered by the way his legs open and close only to be smacked apart by the hand that still holds his balls.

“I’ll stop when you make me cum.” You state, unsure if he can even hear you. But his tongue dives in with renewed vigor, flicking relentlessly at your clit as you grind down on him. It won’t take long to reach your peak, his technique is flawless, licking wide circles around your bud with the flat of his tongue and then raising up to plunge his long muscle between your walls. Your essence dribbles down onto his face, wetting his chin and cheeks as he eats you like a man starved. You haven’t been this turned on in a long while, you didn’t think you’d be so into seeing him suffer in pleasure like this— his body writhing under yours and cock still so insanely hard in your hand just from the light hold you have on him. His hands claw at your ass, pulling you down and spreading your cheeks apart, fingers bruising the flesh in his haze of sweet agony.

You moan for him and bite your lip, closing your eyes as he edges you closer to your peak, your hand starting to stutter on him. It’s easy to get lost in him and grind down into his mouth, the feeling of his tongue between your folds heavenly, the feeling of his lips even better. But what sets you over the top is when his fingers snake into your opening, first two, then three. The stretch causes you to throw your head back, and you go flying head first into your orgasm when he curls into that one spot, tongue still on your clit and fingers wiggling inside you as your walls spasm around him. With one last groan, you lift away from him, finally moving your hands to his thighs to grip the muscles as you try to catch your breath. Jimin does the same, relaxing into the mattress as a few more ticklish waves flow through him.

“Was that okay?” You spin around until you’re laid on top of him, chin on his chest looking up into his dark chocolate eyes. He cracks a brief smile at your cuteness before flipping you over, capturing your lips sweetly. But the sweetness ends before you can even enjoy it when he bites down on your lip, a whimper falling from you.

“You can’t ask for my consent after it’s over.” He points out, trying to hide his giggle in the crook of your neck as he sucks dark marks there. “But, yeah, that was fucking hot.” The tip of his erection prods at your ass cheek, nudging the fabric of your soiled underwear. Without pulling away, Jimin hooks his fingers into your waistband, snatching them off and chucking them across the room, next comes your shirt, which he damn near rips in his haste to get it over your head. He growls. “So fucking sexy. And all mine. Right, princess?”

“Yes, Jimin, I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me.” In an instant you switch roles, dropping the momentary dominance to cower in his presence. There’s a hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes that you provoked, the product of the teasing he faced all day, and you drip down your ass at the thought of him taking you however he wants. You suspect he’ll be eager to finally fuck you, but you underestimate how petty he can be. The tip of his cock runs through your wetness, but when he sees the way you jump when it rolls over your sensitive clit, his eyes narrow, seeing an opportunity to get his revenge. Dipping down briefly to collect more of your wetness, he glides the slick underside of him over your bundle of nerves, using his thumb to press down and add pressure, then he grinds his hips ever so slowly back and forth over you, forcing you to feel every ridge of him bump against you. “Oh fuck!” You gasp out, spreading your legs wider and lifting your hips into him. His length is hot, still burning and hard from not getting a full orgasm.

“You like this, baby? You like how my cock feels between these soft lips, rubbing that cute little clit?” He grins when your eyes roll back, thighs already starting to tremble. “Maybe I should just fuck you like this. Make you cum without ever even entering you.”

“No! No, please, Jimin.” Your eyes pop open in alarm at the thought of him not fucking you tonight, though you know he’s far too wound up to deny both of you that. Still, he persists his humping, groaning along with you as you feel another orgasm creeping up embarrassingly fast.

“Hmm, seems like you’d like that though? I mean, you look like you’re about to cum again already.” The patronizing tone of voice he uses would piss you off in any other situation, but you’re not in your right mind currently. As he picks up pace you feel your mind slipping away, your clit throbbing and your empty walls clenching almost painfully around nothing. You try to hold back and prove him wrong, you really do, but your body betrays you and with every nudge of his tip you can feel yourself falling. The most you can let out is a desperate whine. “If you want something, use your words and tell me.”

“P-please...”

“Please what?” You can feel his eyes on your face, but your eyelids are sealed shut and your head is tossed back into the pillows. It takes everything in you to muster the strength to form a coherent sentence and push it past your lips.

“P-please fuck me, baby.” Your voice hiccups at a particular stroke, the hood of your bud now pushed back for more direct stimulation. You aren’t sure how long you’ll last like this.

“You want me to fuck you?” He coos, twitching against your lower lips.

“Yes please, I need your cock.” Asking in the sweetest voice you can, you peel your eyes open to bat your lashes at him, but they snap shut once again when he suddenly pushes inside your velvet walls, shoving you off the edge unexpectedly.

“That’s my good girl,” Jimin sighs once he’s bottomed out, hands roaming your torso as you shake uncontrollably. “So desperate for my cock that you came right when I put it in.” He clicks his tongue, but if you were cognizant at the moment you would have noticed his satisfied tone. You clamp down on him as your orgasm washes through you, and he rides the waves with shallow pumps of his hips and his fingers tweaking your nipples, grunting at the way you pulse around him.

He pushes in deeper as you start coming down, the sensitivity kicking in with every drag of his member inside you. He pays no mind to your whimpering and reaches around your back to lift you up, seating you in his lap with your heels on the tops of his ass. And your hips start moving immediately despite the tingling that shoots up your spine.

Though his body screams for release after his incomplete high, Jimin can’t help but guide you into a sensual pace of grinding and rocking, the intimacy soothing him. With your arms around his neck, you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you slide back and forth against his length, adding a swivel of your hips just to hear him groan. Your weight on top of his feels like the most natural thing in the world and he wishes you could stay like this forever. Running his hands up and down your back, he allows you to mark up his neck and collarbones for everyone to see. He always wears your love bites so proudly. Relishes in the slight tickle of your tongue and nip of your teeth that whisper to him ‘you are mine’. Rose petals bloom on the surface of his skin all the way up to his ear lobe where you nibble.

“Your cock feels fucking amazing, babe.” You whisper in that sultry tone of yours, noting how his hips twitch beneath yours. You’d never say it out loud but you’ve been thinking of this all day. Waiting to hold him close and just love one another. His lips plant a few stray kisses to the side of your neck before trailing downwards, capturing a pert bud between them. You lean back on your hands to give him more access, grinding down just a bit harder when his hips lift to meet yours to make sure you get every inch he has to offer. With your head thrown back like this Jimin can reach that delicate spot deep inside you with ease, humming at the shaky moan you let out. His lips curl into a grin when you begin to bounce with desperation, planting your feet behind him for leverage.

Jimin’s eyes peer up at you as you ride his dick, your breast bouncing in his mouth as he switches to the other to suck. Sweat has now accumulated on your forehead and neck, the droplets glittering against your complexion. Your eyes are screwed shut and the prettiest flush has overtaken your cheeks and chest as you work for your next high, lips bitten and eyebrows squinted together. Truly, you are gorgeous. It makes him impossibly harder to see you like this, his length already throbbing within you, but he holds back as much as he can simply because seeing you fall apart is almost more satisfying than experiencing it himself. It should be surprising that you’re getting close already, but it’s always been easy for you to cum quickly after your first orgasm, the sensitivity and connection you have with your lover making you as explosive as a lit firecracker.

“You’re so needy tonight, princess, is it because of how much you teased me all day? Did you like watching me suffer?” You don’t answer because, frankly, yes. You loved it. And it’s too embarrassing to admit, but Jimin already knows. “Well, let’s see how much you like it when I destroy this cunt until you can’t walk.” The gruffness of his voice makes your eyes roll, the tenderness he’d shown not even a minute ago gone completely as he lets his teeth scrape over your nipple.

Bringing you flush against his chest again, he hooks his elbows under your knees and starts pounding into you in earnest, your hands flying to his shoulders for stability. His core strength is a sight to behold, supporting almost all of your weight while sitting upright, pulling you onto his cock as though you weigh nothing. And all you can do is hang on for the ride, gasping and crying out at the way he repeatedly slams into your spot. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pull him closer and rest your face on the crown of his head, feeling your limbs go weak from the pleasure.

He grunts below you when you tug, bucking up harder when your walls start to squeeze. Wetness streaks down your ass, a string of curses tumble out of your mouth to accompany the lewd sounds of him pushing through your arousal. Each stroke is calculated, and you find yourself teetering very close to the edge.

“Please, Jimin, I’m so close. Please can I cum?” You mumble, barely coherent.

“My baby girl wants to cum again?” He coos into your collarbone, the ticklish skim of his lips sending a shiver through you. ‘My baby girl.’ That one word has you shaking.

“Yes!” You wail as his hands tighten on your ass, palming the globes harshly to slam you down on his length. You can just imagine how sexy his arms look right now, the muscles and veins bulging in his forearms and hands from how tightly he holds you, his biceps and shoulders on full display and glimmering with perspiration. His voice rumbles against you in that thick Busan accent and you almost cream right there.

“Beg for it.” He looks up into your eyes and you see something dark, a heady lust that lowers his eyelids and makes you feel like you’re looking at the definition of sex itself.

“Please please please let me cum, baby!” Your voice shakes with each jolt of your body against his. “I’m so greedy for your cock, I wanna cum for you. You make me feel so good!” Pleased, Jimin gives you permission and moves a little faster, pressing you down against him so your clit rubs against him every time, and you nearly scream from the feeling. You sing your praises into the room knowing how it motivates him, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried. Skin slicked with sweat, you let yourself fall into another breathtaking high, clinging onto your boyfriend who grinds you on top of him to savor the way you clench and throb around his tip when it’s buried deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You both swear at the same time, taking a brief moment to catch your breath as Jimin kisses his way up your neck, releasing your legs and squeezing you close with his arms wrapped tight around your back. Exhaustion dances through you and you sit limply in his hold, eyes closed and basking in his sticky heat. But the moment is soon over when you feel him twitch within your sensitive walls, growling as he shifts his weight until your back is pressed into the mattress with him kneeling over you.

“Keep those eyes open, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” You gasp when his hips begin to move again, your nerves rubbed raw and swollen from the three highs he’s already pulled from you. Still, your eyes roll in delight when he starts ramming into you again, pushing your legs as far apart as they will go and holding you open. “You didn’t think I would let you off that easy, did you, princess? You still need to be punished for today.” He coos, voice gentle despite his hard thrusts. You whine loudly and attempt to close your legs when he touches a sweet spot deep within you, the pleasure almost too much, but it’s like you’re addicted to him, unable to get enough even when your body begs for reprieve. “Shhh, I know you can take it, baby. I know how much you love it when I overstimulate this greedy pussy, so be a good girl and take it.”

He’s absolutely correct, you love the overstimulation and the twinge of pain and overwhelming pleasure that comes with it. And you know this is his payback for the post-orgasm torture you gave him earlier. You’re still incredibly wet, new arousal dripping out of your entrance every time he plunges in, the mess of your juices and his precum dripping down the crack of your ass and onto your bedsheets. Looking up at Jimin’s face, you see how entranced he is by the sight before him, eyes trained between your legs as he watches himself disappear inside you and re-emerge with a new coating of slick covering his shaft. Smirking, you reach your hands down around your ass and pull your lips open wider for him, biting your lip at the way his eyebrows crease together and his mouth drops open at the sight. His pace slows slightly, his breathing labored as he begins to slowly unravel for you.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy! God, you always take my cock so well, princess.” He hisses, licking his full lips when your clit throbs at his praise. He can see and feel when you tighten, his tip finding that spot again that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Jimin,” You mewl, your thighs shaking in his grip and fingers clawing the sheets. Tears build in your beautiful eyes. It feels so good, but would you be able to handle a fourth orgasm tonight? Your body feels pushed to the limit, but your lover says otherwise.

“C’mon, baby girl, cum for me one more time.” You shake your head in desperation, pleading with him with your watery eyes. “Yes you can. Just relax for me, baby, I got you. I want you to cum one last time, just one more, and then I’m gonna fill you up.” He encourages softly, yet you don’t miss the dominant undertones that tell that this is a command. With a huff from his nostrils, he pounds into you harder while fighting off his own release, staying deep right up against that spot making you cry out. His hands reach for your breast and you place your hands over his for comfort, moaning as he squeezes the bouncing mounds as you toss your head back.

“I- I don’t think I can...” You whimper, unsure if you can get there with your nerves feeling numb and worn like this. But Park Jimin is nothing if not determined, so he takes your statement as a challenge. Slipping one hand away from you, he presses his thumb to your lips, staring down at you intensely before you open.

“Suck.” On command, you swirl your tongue around his digit, coating it in your spit before he slides it out with a pop. Suddenly, he’s pressing against your swollen clit in tight circles and those special tingles shoot up and down your spine at the feeling. He hums at the sounds you make, eyes sealed shut because of the blinding waves of bliss coursing through your veins, building you up almost frighteningly fast. He feels you pulse, your jelly legs trembling on either side of him as they attempt to close, but his praises fall on deaf ears as you chase the sensations of his skillful hips and fingers, rocking into him with the last of your energy until you reach the brink.

“Oh my god-!” You shudder and shriek as you finally tense up around him. Your walls clamp down repeatedly as Jimin continues flicking your sensitive nub, and the tears that had been welling up finally spill over. He stops only when your breathing turns to pitiful snivels, wiping away your tears with caring hands and loving eyes. His hips are still fucking you through the aftershocks as he kisses his way around your face, planting his lips firmly on yours until your breathing evens out.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” He whispers out, resting his forehead against yours. “Will you let me cum in this pretty little pussy, baby?” You nod against him, staring right into his coffee colored eyes. “Mm, I want you to keep it inside all night, okay princess? So I can fuck it out of you in the morning. Will you do that for me?”

“Fuck, yes.” You moan. You can feel the way he gets just a bit harder, how his muscles start to shake just slightly, and you know exactly how to push him over the edge. Your fingers lightly caress the velvety skin of his balls, causing a surprised moan to leave his lips. “I want your cum so bad, Jimin. I promise I’ll keep it inside, I’ll be a good girl for you. Please fill me up.” Knowing how much your words would affect him, you use your sweetest voice and lock your heels around his back. His head swims with desire and his voice strains.

Sitting up a bit, his hands clamp onto your hips to stroke into you in earnest, face contorted in the sexiest of expressions. You want to shy away from his intense gaze but you can’t pull your eyes away from him, drinking up the sight of his clenching abs, sweaty chest and neck, and the pure hunger that overtakes his features. “Good girl. Don’t move. Enjoy the feeling of my cum filling you up.” With a few more grunts and groans, he allows himself to release into you, shuddering almost as hard as you were from the feeling of the full orgasm he had been waiting for all day. Spurt after spurt of his release covers your walls, and your inner muscles suck it in as if on instinct, throbbing around him to milk every last drop. You let him collapse onto you as he finishes, cock still throbbing while he gasps and pants into the crook of your neck. You can feel it already starting to leak out around him, but he won’t be too upset about it since he’ll likely have fun fingering it back into you later.

There’s a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath, pressing sleepy kisses to each other’s damp skin with rosy cheeks and smiles on your faces. Jimin moves first, groaning when his muscles scream out in soreness when he sits at the side of the bed to pull on his boxers. You giggle, commenting about how you were supposed to be the one unable to walk, not the other way around. He snorts passing you a pair of panties and helping you stand so you can make it to the bathroom.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you get ready for bed, grumbling about having an early class tomorrow morning. Which reminds you of the homework quiz you took tonight. Opening your laptop again, you check your score, only to have your face drop at what you see.

“50 PERCENT?!” You whip around to face your boyfriend, who was back to reclining against the headboard, the scene similar to the beginning of your night. “You owe me for this, Jimin.”

He waves you off. “Those quizzes aren’t even worth that much, you’ll be fine.” But you disagree because you’ve already missed 2 of them and only the lowest 2 scores are dropped at the end of the semester. He rolls his eyes when you tell him this, cutting you off with a dramatic groan. “Babyyyyyy, stop talking about school and come to bed.” His pout is unmatched, so you easily relent and shut down your laptop, huffing and puffing the entire time.

“You owe me cuddles and breakfast tomorrow morning.” You grumble as you climb in next to him, fitting your body with his.

“And shower sex.” He winks at you and you snort, turning out the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You laugh, snuggling up to his chest in the quiet of your stuffy room.

...

“So no shower sex?”

[mintbaby1012]

Felix ♥ Sleepover

You and your best friend felix see each other for the first time in awhile

dom!felix x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, daddy kink, praise, dirty-talk, slight degradation

Word count: 2318

——————————————————————————-

It had been a long day, a Friday. The best day of the week that seems like the longest day of the week. My best friend Felix from when I lived in Sydney as a kid was at my house staying the night as my parents and I just moved to Korea. My mother trusted Felix since she has known him since we were little tots.

"I'm going out with your father for a business dinner we'll be back around 11 PM or 12 AM as always depending on his boss," yelled my mom as she was walking out the door. I was just really happy to be with my bestfriend again for the first time in 6 years he left Sydney to be an idol which I understand. I just missed getting to see my bestfriend and crush in person everyday.

Currently we were sitting on my bed playing Clash Royale together and streaming their comeback shows to get in more views. Felix's group Stray Kids just had a comeback with the title song Side Effects and damn, it's a fucking bop.

Right as me and Felix won a battle their newest comeback show came on and Felix begged, "Let's skip this one I rather not watch this promotion show pleaseeeeee y/n pleaseeeeee let's skip this one"

Felix was begging and blushing he looked embarrassed honestly which intrigued me. "No I want to watch this once as seeing your reaction I'm interested," I stated while watching the TV intensely

"HOLY FUCKING HELL, SHIT SINCE WHEN FELIXXXX!!! WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YOU HAVE ABSSS!?!?! I WANT TO SEE THEM LIVE NOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!" I exclaimed as I saw him rap and hold his shirt up a good five seconds. He had just faceplanted into my pillow and groaned in embarrassment while replied to me blushing, "No I will not show you my abs, it's embarrassing... Ahhhh I didn't want to watch this one I'm so embarrassed now!" I just pouted and exclaimed, "Come on Felix~~~~ all the stays there got to see them why can't I see them live too!"

Felix just sat on my bed looking out the window blushing and ignoring me. So what do I do, I get into a play fight with him. We toss and turn on my bed fighting to become the champion. Felix was tickling me as his tactic, and I was kicking for my tactic.

In the end Felix ended up underneath me while I sat on him in victory. I took the chance while he was catching his breath, and I was on top of him to quickly lift his shirt and see his abs.

Felix's eyes widened with disbelief and I started blushing while staring at his abs. I honestly didn't think I would got turned on by seeing his abs. I've seen him shirtless many times as a kid.

"Y/n, y/n don't. Stop please y/n!" I didn't hear his pleads for me to stop whatever I was doing, or more I was to focused on his abs I forgot he was there; my hand was slowly going torwards his abs and I couldn't stop myself I was drawn to them.

I finally touched them, but I was a blushing mess. My fingers instinctively started tracing each abdominal muscles and gliding over his skin, till I was knocked out of my hypnotized state by my wrist being grabbed and pulled away.

I looked Felix dead in the eyes, he was also looking into my eyes. I started scanning his body from his eyes, to his neck, to his abs, back up to his arms, then his hand that was attached to my wrist. I gasped and pulled my wrist away, pushing myself up trying to get off of Felix but failing and landing somewhere bad.

As I landed I felt him, it, his hard on, or his dick. I froze and my entire body heated up as I heard Felix grunt deeply. I looked at his face and was hypnotized by his flushed cheeks, dark, and now cloudy eyes.

The next thing I know is he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me down on top of him. Our faces were barely an two cenimeters apart and my hands ended up grabbing his shoulders as our bodies were pressed together.

"May I?" Felix said in his deep voice while looking at my lips and I just nodded my head and within a second our lips were connected. At first our lips were just touching then, Felix started actually kissing me and I started returning the favor. The kiss grew more intense and passionate, biting and sucking on each others lips. Then our tongues, they moved together insync, connected as one desperately needing more and more.

I started getting frustrated with how needy I was and my lower half started moving on its on, grinding against Felix's clothed manhood. "Mmm fuck~~~" Felix moaned out as the heat between us grew.

Within two moments Felix was ontop of me kissing down my neck, gropping my clothed breasts, and grinding down on me desperate for friction. "Ngh~ Felix I want m-more than just this make out session," I moaned out breathily as I tugged his shirt over his head. Felix then pushed my shirt up revealing my stomach but not all the way to the point my breasts would be revealed and he said while kissing and leaving marks on my stomach, "Y/n, I really have been waiting forever for this, but I don't want to go too fast but if it's want you want as well, then screw taking time I can make you a mess right here and now!!"

I was a mess as he said I had never been kissed and touched this way before, I have never had someone leave hickies all over my stomach, and make me feel this way. I looked down at him with hooded lustful eyes and he was looking right back at me admiring every expression and reaction I made in response to his heavenly touch.

Before I realized it, he had pulled off my joggers and panties;  his tongue was instantly on my core. I moaned out loudly and my body tensed while my back arched.

Felix's left hand was gripping my waist while his right was holding my right leg over his shoulder. "F-F-Felix!!! It feels so good!" I exclaimed in pleasure. His tongue was working magic licking between my folds, stimulating my clit, and exploring as far as it could reach into my pussy. My hands were tangled in his hair while he was making me feel, oh so good!

Before I could do anything else a knot formed in my stomach it was unbearable, "I'm gonna cum, D-Daddy I'm gonna cum!" I yelled in pleasure and Felix looked up to me shocked and said, "Then do it cum in my mouth just like you're supposed to." Him saying that triggered something and I came, releasing all my fluids into Felix's mouth as he made sure to lick it all up and swallow it.

"You sure do taste good princess." He said as he came back up to kiss me. As he finally lifted up my shirt over my head and took off my bra. I unbuttoned his pants and he pulled them off after he was done with declothing me.

Felix took one of my nipples into his mouth and the his other hand was playing with and sending jolts of pleasure through my body making me whimper out my thoughts, "Felix you haven't came yet, let me make you come."

Right as I said that he flipped us back over and grabbed my hair and pushed his dick into my mouth. At first I was a gagging mess but after him thrusting into my mouth a few times I took over. He threw his head back moaning in pleasure and squeezing a fistfull of my hair as I took in his cock, slowly taking in all of it deepthroating him, sucking he tip kissing and licking up and down his hard dick. "Fuck baby you're so good at this, this can't be the first time you've done this your making me so weak" The desperate man moaned out and I hummed in response while taking him in. Which caused him to release and shoot his seeds down my throat with no warning, but I did my best to swallow ever ounce of his sweet cum.

Felix pulled me up to face level and said, "I really want to fuck you, i want to make you mine forever, I want you to be the one I crave everyday, I want, no I need you to be my girlfriend, and I can't fuck you unless you say yes. I wouldn't want to take something another man is supposed to take that's not mine to have." I just kissed him in response and said, "Of course I'll be yours I've had a crush on you since we were ten!"

With that being said Felix flipped me over and lined up his dick with my entrance and told me, "This is gonna hurt tap my shoulder three times when I can make a next move after I'm inside you, I don't want you to hurt too much but it's unavoidable." Finally he pushed in and instantly I was tearing up it was like I was being ripped it hurt and burned so bad and tears were falling down my face. "Shhhh, it's okay I'm trying to not hurt you, I love you so much baby, it'll feel good soon I promise, you're so beautiful, I can't believe someone so beautiful as you is now my princess." Felix stated while wiping away and kissing my tears, and kissing my neck leaving more hickies to distract the pain.

After a few minutes I tapped on his shoulder three times as he said to do when I was ready. He instantly started to move slowly; looking into my eyes for signs of pain. To no surprise he was right the pain was fading and I started to crave for more so I moaned out of breath, "I want more daddy, give me more, I want to feel all of your cock pounding me!" He quickly sped up his pace and penetrated deeper making both of us a moaning mess. The sound of skin slapping, moans, grunts, whimpers and words of love filled the room making a symphony.

"You are so fucking tight princess. I fucking love you!" Felix grunted as he pushed as deep as he could inside me yearning for more pleasure. I whimpered in response unable to talk for Felix pounding into my pussy.

While he was fucking the life out of me he pushed his tongue back into my mouth making us completely one, he then sucked on my tongue before moving to my earlobe biting and licking making me moan out even more.

I was sad once he pulled away and pulled out his dick but he then demanded, "Get on your hands and knees now my little slut!" So I did as he said.

Right as I did so, he pushed my back down and perked my ass up, slightly spreading my legs apart and pulling on my hair he thrusted into my vagina full force using his one free hand to pull me into him as he thrusted into me. His actions made me scream out in pleasure and weak; my thighs felt like they were gonna give out and Felix noticed so he supported my body but kept thrust into me with all his might.

That one knot in my stomach was forming again and it was way more intense than the last time so I whimpered out, "I-I'm close I need to cum again" Felix moaned out, "Hold on just a few more seconds I'm close too princess I want to o-orgasm with you...." Three seconds later he yelled "Now!" We both came together, he pulled out and came all over my back and I released my juices that were now dripping onto the bed.

Felix cleaned himself and I, putting back on our clothes, then cleaned the bed and mess he and I made. "I want to cuddle... Don't go to the guest room stay with me daddy!"

He just giggled and got under the bed covers with me while saying, "I never said I was going to the guest room but right now I want to know.... since when did you have a daddy kink hmmmmm?!?!?!?" I instantly flushed red and he snicker while I stuttered out, "I-I-I called you daddy? I didn't realize fuck I need to control my mouth, your disgusted aren't you, I'm sorry I won't do it again."

I pouted and he just laughed and pulled me close to him holding me in his embrace as he said, "No, princess I loved it you can call me Daddy whenever you please, and we should really have sleepovers more often when your mom and dad are out for business a few hours, now that you are mine, I really enjoyed this sleepover!"

[artsninspo]

Bubblebath (Erik x Reader)

Masterlist

Erik X Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: After some time a part you and your oldest friend Erik reconnect and reminisce before creating some new ones.

“Do you remember it?” You ask Erik smiling as the memory comes back to you. Only Erik could successfully rope you into something so risqué.

“Yeah I do, that nigga had you fucked up” he nods shaking is head. He breaths in licking his thick lips at the memory. “Can’t believe we fit in that small ass tub” he says examining the photo intently. Looking intently through the lenses of his gold framed glasses.

“Can’t believe we took that picture” you reflect. It was unlike you to do something so ... liberal? Free? Careless? But Erik had always been good at pushing you. Challenging you, getting your out of your comfort zone.

“Well it worked on ole boy you were trying to make jealous didn’t it?” He comments and there’s judgement in his expression.

“Broke his heart” you agree.

“You wouldn’t let me break his neck” he reasons getting up. His home now is something out of architectural digest. Decorated with purpose, adorned with ornaments and sculptures that represented Erik to the tee. Furnished with things that embodied his wildest dreams. A mix of dark and light like his personality, depth with the blue hues used and glass for a modern touch. Also because Erik never hid, not from anybody. He’d been gone a little over five years, doing top secret work - going through personal stuff on is own.

“You got all that out of you yet?” You ask

“What?”

“The rage?”you respond remembering how angry he used to be. First it scared you, then it was a mirror. You felt the exact same way but never showed it. Guess you both had different ways of coping - Erik hurt others. You let it simmer only hurting myself.

“Still working on it” he says motioning for you to follow. The stairs are floating and the walls house black canvased art. The geography of African States and different drawings. You follow him to a room that’s nothing short of a modern hotel suite.

“Bedroom, closet, bathroom” he comments walking around the large space. You both smile seeing the size of the free standing tub. A lot changed after that night. There was a distance between you and Erik. He’d filled the tub with water and bubbles while you sniffled sad about your ex who broke things off to see girls who didn’t have so much reservations. Your ex who wanted to be friends but really he just wanted in your pants. What couldn’t be seen through the bubbles was your biker shorts. Or your oversized off the shoulder top. Eriks boxers were unseen too.

Erik always had a soft spot for you, polite, smart enough not to fall for his games, an all around good girl. Opposites attract. While the other kids steered clear of his temper you were drawn to it. As kids it was sitting on park benches to cool off. As adolescents it was silently in his car while he fumed or you cried and I’m college it was over the phone or in each others space. He had every intention of breaking your exes neck. Then he had every intention of making him regret his actions. But the more tears that fell the worse things felt.

“Stop crying” he whispered softly, gently, and concerned with eyes attentive to every tear.

“Why can’t I just shut it off Erik? Stop thinking so much and just go with it? Dean is a good guy” you reasoned speaking stupidly.

“He’s a piece of shit and your head knows it.” He commented wiping away your tears. It always amazed you the way he turned into this caring man when the two of you were alone. “When you’re ready, you don’t need a jack-rabbit motherfucker, he can’t wait now I bet his foreplay is shit” Erik commented making you look up at him and smile a little. He smiles too leaning down to kiss you, the perfect picture for an intimate moment.

“Thanks for always being here for me, I mean it Erik” you admit looking up at him. You deeply regretted that it was as far as things went all those years ago. He was noble which was unlike him, he didn’t even take a peak at your goodies, kept his hands to himself and kept his other head calm. He only nods at your thanks.

“Nothing to thank me for, I’m about to head into the jacuzzi if you need me” he says disappearing down the hall and you take the opportunity to freshen up before exploring his mansion. He promised wealth would be apart of his future. Somewhere between the end of college and early adulthood the two of you had lost touch. You find him outside in the jacuzzi and get in beside him.

“This place is incredible” you admit and he nods in agreement. One day when the nostalgia was too much you decided to just give I’m a call. The two of you spoke for hours before he asked you to come visit and see the life he had built for himself.

“Check this shit out” he smiles pressing a button and a tv comes out of the floor. You shake your head amused with the little things.

“Did you really keep a box of all our memories?” You ask looking up at him and he nods.

“Yeah, you were the only good part about home” he swallows and you scoot closer giving him a hug. He holds you there against him. You rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“How long can I stay?” You ask

“You make the rules with your bossy ass” he chuckles making you smile.

“So you’re just going to listen to me?”

“Don’t I always?” Erik asks looking at you with his deep brown eyes. If rebellious was a person Erik would define it perfectly. But as you rack through your brain you fail to recollect one time where he didn’t do your bidding.

“I guess”

“You guess” Erik scoffs. “When haven’t i?” He asks defensively.

“What?” You ask surprised.

“You better not lie on me?” He sits forward closing the space between the two of you again. He’s right, you can’t think of a time he’s disappointed.

“You’re right, your record is spotless” you admit feeling stupid and excited at the same time. Your excitement builds its the perfect opportunity to test the waters.

“Be my first then Erik” your words come out more confident then you imagined. You’d been waiting 27 years for the right time that just never came. Your brain always did the same thing as always. Aborts any viable opportunities.

“First what?” He asks and his tone says he doesn’t believe you.

“My first first” you explain using the quintessential black form of description and he chuckles.

“When you gonna learn that you always turn chicken first “ he asks untying the top of your triangle two piece. It was true; from childhood to now you took special care trying to find Eriks limits only to realize he had very few. You feel the waters unrestricted tickle on your breasts and your toplessness. Eriks no stranger to the female form but he always averted his eyes to yours.

“Turn around” he demands.

“No” you pout too chicken to face him and the asshole chuckles ridding you of the back knot of the triangle bikini top. He pulls the swimsuit off and you hear it flap onto the poolside concrete.

“You done yet YN?” He asks sounding almost bored with the game of chicken. You swallow and so does he with concern in his mind. He had to shake the indecent thoughts of you out of his head too many times. “Hey, I don’t want to play with something like this” he cracks after minutes of silence. Possessed with want or maybe the night caps and nostalgia from earlier have done their damage. You take his hand and run it against your bare skin until his palms hold your breasts and he squeezes gently fondling them. He pulls you closer sitting you on his lap and kissing your neck. You can feel his heart racing as fast as yours.

“I’m not playing” you admit breathlessly and he kisses your shoulder before finding your lips.

“I’m bout to poke you in the ass, I’ll put you out topless of you playin” he snaps before going back to the soft kisses. But he never would, no matter how upset. He lifts you onto his lap in a straddling position made easy by the water to make the kissing more comfortable. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed. But it’s the first time it’s been so long. First time you’ve let yourself be turned on. He turns you back around removing your bikini bottoms wit rugged breaths.

You feel yourself throbbing with anticipation of it weren’t for the pool there’d be no hiding how wet you are. His fingers find their way inside your centre with ease. Both of you sighing in pleasure. He doesn’t go deep, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, you’re lucky we’re in the hot tub cause if we weren’t I’d put my face in it until you begged me to stop” he breathes as his carnal man takes over. But I gotta take my time play with all of you until your clit is nice and swollen” he whispers making you feel incredible. His words and his fingers gripping your breasts, sliding in and out of you while he kisses your neck.

“Erik” you moan trying to remember to breathe against him.

“Am I the only one you let touch you?” He asks nipping at your ear and stroking you a little faster a little deeper. Goosebumps cover your body the rush flows in. There’s nothing to hold onto but his arm so you do. He brings it up holding your neck as your heart beats out of your chest, his dick rock hard and ready to go. “Answer me” he urges gently despite being in full control.

“Yes” the words barely escape your mouth before he’s kissing you through your first climax. Your body trembles as the pleasure reaches its peak. You feel it everywhere -sensory overload in the best way possible. The kiss never breaks and his strong arms keep you close to him containing the orgasm and making it an even more of an unforgettable. You both pant breathlessly by the end of it, resting your head on his shoulder and his head on yours as your breaths sync.

“You gonna punk out and give me blue balls or go somewhere more?” He asks with a slightly cocky grin like it’s still a game. He’s big from what you can feel but literally no one could care for you like Erik. Your entire lifetime proved it. You spent your lives keeping healthy boundaries only for life to solidify there was a reason you’d become one atoners safe space.

“I’m not playing Erik” you admit and he swallows, his rough demeanour chipping away second by second until he nods with a triumphant smile.

“Waited long enough” he laughs stepping out of the hot tub and holding out his hand for you to follow. This time he doesn’t avert his eyes. He looks with your permission. His eyes are full of excitement like he doesn’t know what to do next. It’s your favourite part about him. A guaranteed good time.

He walks you to the poolside furniture in a sunroom taking off his trunks and stroking his length before shaking his head and leaning in for another kiss.

“I’m gonna eat it it until you come, until you’re nice wet and wide open for me. Then you’re gonna taste yourself on me. Throat might be sore from screaming and swallowing. Your pussy definitely will be and I’ll probably want seconds before I let you sleep” he says being the impossible jerk you’ve grown to love. “If you wanted something different you’d go to someone else” he says frankly knowing you best. A sense of mischief and confidence wash over you. His words are empowering, you feel like a woman, sexy and unstoppable.

You peck his lips in response daring to stroke his manhood at the same time. You can see the fire in his eyes as you lay back into a comfortable position.

“Let’s get started” you comment and he smiles upright with his knees at your feet. His defined abs brown eyes and that mind of his towering over you before he strikes fast grabbing your ankles. It’s startling when he pulls you closer to him so her perfectly between your legs. His eyes darken as he looks over your body biting his bottom lip before he gets started. His thumb swipes your fold feeling the wetness and his aura lightens from his daze.

“Let’s” he agrees.

_________

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy 💖feel free to send in requests, comments, questions & feedback. Look out for more stories - I am clearing out my drafts.

TAGS: @determinednot2fall @twistedcharismaaa​ @l-auteuse​ @chaneajoyyy​ @thickemadame​ @longpause-awkwardsmile​ @klaylakayblack​ @amelatonin​ @just-juicee​ @xo-goldengirl​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @itsjustyazz​ @soufcakmistress​ @nijajoha  @iamrheaspeaks @4tprincess  @justgetitoverwith0​ @queenflaws @abeautifulmindexposed @coveredingodiv @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​@champagnesugamama​ @heavensangelxo​ @bugngiz​ @cherrystainedlipsbaby​ @tip222u​ @keiva1000​ @doublesidedscoobysnacks​ @shalynn-m​ @bakarilennox​ @tyees

[multi-fandom-freak0221]

The Shell of a Girl that I Used to Know Well

Inspired by "Love of three" by @misashabunbun

Thank you @thestressmademedoit and @maleive07 for helping me find the fic.

So this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be (probably because I based it around like 5 songs) so I'll break it into parts and post each part separately. Oh and did I mention this is songfic? Because it's a songfic! No Felix yet, but you guys do see Peter but I surprise surprise I turned this into an OT4 pairing. Anyone wanna guess who the other lucky person is to date Mari, Peter and Felix? Also bonus points for anyone who can figure out Mari's stage name.

The song in this part in Stitches by Shawn Mendes and The Lonely by Christina Perri is where I got this parts title from. Also the song mentioned at the end is Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft Ashley Costello.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was grateful for the quiet she found in what she was pretty sure was some kind of presentation room. There was a raised platform which she believes is supposed to be some kind of stage and a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. She still has no idea how she got here, she was just trying to find some peace. She knew her pseudo Uncle and her friends meant well but they were suffocating her. It's been over a week since she left that bastard, not likely that he even noticed. Since Marinette has gotten to Stark Towers everyone has been treating her like she's about to break and she can't stand it. Yes she's hurt, but like give her a chance to fall apart before trying to shove her back together again! Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself as she sat on the little stage to work on the embroidery she was putting on the back of the blouse. She already had a full heart there but it was kind of plain. She wanted to add something but she didn't know what. 

She sighed softly. At times she really missed Tikki being around to be her second opinion. 

Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth the kwamis asked to be renounced and to have their respective jewelry return the Miraculous box. They were working together to heal poor Nooroo and Dusuu. Even though Marinette had been able to fully fix the peacock Miraculous, as well as heal Emilie Agreste and Nathalie Sancour from the effects of using a broken Miraculous, the two kwamis had to deal with a significant amount of emotional trauma from the whole affair. 

Even though the final battle had been won quietly without casualties it had taken a lot out of everyone who had been a part of it. Adrien's relationship with his father has been very strained to say the least. Even though Gabriel is doing his best to right his wrongs, it goes to say that the only reason Adrien even speaks to his father at all is because of his mother who is desperately trying to make up for years lost between the two of them.

While Marinette was trying to think of an idea for her embroidery she started humming a song she had heard recently on the radio. In her eyes it fit her past relationship with Damian Wayne perfectly. Soon enough she was singing softly.

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one has ever left me quite this sore.

Even on their worst days Lila's lies, Alya's beratings, hell even Mlle. Bustier's looks of disappointment never hurt half as much as Damian's total disinterest did. She had cooked him a nice romantic dinner yet he barely acknowledged her. More interested in whatever, or should she say whoever, was on his phone. After 5 mins of trying to carry the conversation alone Marinette sighed and just decided to eat the meal she worked so hard on. After 10 mins of stiff silence in their shared apartment, only filled with the sounds of Marinette eating and Damian texting, the latter got up. Grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, barely turning his head towards his fiancee to call out "I've got to go. Something came up at work."

Marinette wasn't even shocked anymore, just resigned. Still she tried to reason with the man she no longer recognized. Sometimes she wonders if she ever truly knew him at all. "You just got here. Isn't there someone else who can handle it? You haven't even touched your dinner."

True to her words, the young heir's meal sat completely untouched, quickly cooling in the AC.

"Mari, you know these things are important. Not just anyone can handle them." Damian's words were patronizing at best. It frustrated the young designer, but she didn't let it show.

"Will you be back tonight?" She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

Damian hummed noncommittally as he walked through the door still looking at his phone and not the beautiful young lady in front of him. "Most likely not. Don't wait up for me." He quickly walked out, closing the door behind him. Marinette quickly placed her ear to the door as he walked away from the humble abode. She could hear him on the phone.

"Yeah. I'm on my way, gorgeous. I just left." Silence. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing." Nothing but his footsteps as he continues to leave unknowing of her distress behind the apartment "Perfect. The less you're wearing, the better."

Marinette crumbled to the floor after she could no longer hear him. She had suspected as much but that didn't make hearing it less painful. 

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

She remembers the first time he truly yelled at her. The way he looked at her with disgust. The way she flinched away from his imposing figure and his cutting words. If tried hard enough she could delude herself that he was doing this out of her best interest. The illusion made even easier to believe by the way he apologized and hugged her after he stopped yelling. The way he told her he was worried about her going out and being made a target to Rogues because of her connection to him. The way he feared that he disguises wouldn't be enough even though he himself didn't recognize her at first when she walked back through the apartment door the day. She believed she was safer staying in the apartment because he said so and he only wants what's best for her. So eventually the walls of their apartment was all she saw 24/7. For her safety of course. 

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

Marinette's head was spinning. Or was it the room? Was she even breathing? She couldn't focus on any of that. All she could focus on was the picture sitting on the screen on her phone. The phone Damian had bought her. The idea made her feel sick now because all those gifts he was giving her now seemed to have double meanings. Especially when the picture filling her screen was of a naked Lila whose body was hidden behind a sheet lying on Damian's bare chest while he slept. She didn't even think to process how the lying bitch managed to get her number. Instead all she could focus on was tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart shatter. She didn't even process the fact that she left the phone right there with the picture still on the screen and started packing her stuff. She grabbed everything that was hers that she bought herself, later on she'd be surprised at how little that was. She stuffed her things in a small suitcase, put the miracle box in a duffle bag wrapped in her leftover fabric from commissions, grabbed her purse with her wallet and left. After locking the apartment door she slid the key underneath the door so he could have it back. He could have everything back he ever gave her. She was done. She was so distressed she didn't even notice that she had put on the one disguise she had and taken a train to New York until she was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower with her Uncle Tony and her Aunt Pepper holding her while she sobbed.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Marinette was so engrossed in the lyrics, in her feelings, that she didn't notice the tears falling from her eyes, nor the way she was furiously embroidering the shirt in her hands. And she definitely didn't notice that she had gained an audience.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Yeah you lured me in and I couldn't sense the pain

The first time she met Damian it had been an accident. She knew when her classes started she wouldn't have the time to get the fabrics she needed for her last commissions that she agreed to before going on hiatus. She knew juggling her business and school would be hard so told her clients she'd be on break for the unforeseeable future. She was so focused on her phone trying to make sure her list was complete, that she didn't notice the man right in front of her.

"Oh!" She fell back with a little yelp and when she saw what, or who, she ran into she hurried to help them up as well. "I'm so sorry monsieur. Are you okay?"

The man yanked his hand away from her and growled, "You wouldn't be having to ask if you weren't caught up in whatever idiotic nonsense is on your phone."

Marinette fumed silently. "Well excuse me sir, I don't know who you think you are, but that is uncalled for. I apologized and helped you up. All you had to do was walk away. No need to be so rude."

Damian raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "You don't know who I am?"

Marinette crossed her arms still annoyed. "Am I supposed to? You could be the president for all I cared and I still would say you were being rude and disrespectful."

Damian's expression changed slightly to a bit of amused intrigue. "I apologize. I thought you were another fangirl with some kind of ruse to get my attention. If you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a city like Gotham? I can tell from your accent you are not from here."

Marinette relaxed a little bit. "I'm here going to college when the semester starts, but right now I was out doing some shopping."

"Perhaps I could join you as a way to apologize for my rude behavior. I could give you a mini tour along the way." Damian smiled softly at her.

"I don't know," apprehension was clear on Marinette's face. "I don't even know you let alone your name."

Damian chuckled lightly. "I assure you, even if you don't know me, the rest of the city does. I won't be able to get away with doing anything to you without being plastered across every newspaper and magazine in town, Angel. But my name is Damian by the way. Damian Wayne." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly after his introduction.

"A-angel?" Marinette stuttered as she blushed.

"Well, I still don't know your name."

Marinette smiled before introducing herself. "My name is Marinette. Your company would be much appreciated, Damian"

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm going to reap what I sow

I'm left seeing red on my own

Sometimes on nights like these Marinette wondered what she did wrong. Because it had to be her of course. Why else would Damian go from her caring, charming, wonderful, Dove to Gotham's very own cold, unfeeling, ruthless, Ice Prince. 

"Hi, Damian. You're home early." Marinette tried not to let the hope seep into her voice. She had a feeling she wasn't successful.

Damian barely grunted at her as he continued to their room. "My idiots brothers dragged me into spending some time with them so I'm forced to change into something less formal."

"Oh okay." She knew she did an even worse job of hiding her disappointment. "You know I finished Uncle Jagged's outfit the other day. He loved it."

Damian hummed noncommittally. She knew he wasn't paying attention, he never was but she kept trying.

"You know how he's doing that "World's Greatest" Tour. Celebrating the hero's of the world in their respective cities. Luka's been opening for him. His career has really taken off. Hell I'm sure half the tickets Uncle Jagged sells are people just trying to see Luka. He'll have to tour solo soon."

"I bet." Damian's voice was muffled from being the closet, but she could still hear the disinterest in his voice.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorframe of "their" room. It was only theirs in name the fact that his clothes were there. She spent almost every night there alone. She took a deep breath trying to gather her courage for what she was going to ask. "Well they wanted to thank me for the outfits. Claimed the tour would have been half as successful without them. They invited me to take me out to dinner tonight to catch up, then for me to hang out backstage during their show. They said they missed me." Marinette hoped he still wasn't paying attention, but as soon as he settled his famous glare on her, she knew she wasn't that lucky. She flinched into herself under his gaze.

"Marinette. You know what would happen if you left this apartment. The famous Wayne Heir's sweet vulnerable fiance. The one never seen in the media anymore. You would get off this block before your picture would be on every media outlet in the city. Then you would be the Rogues target for the night. They would go anywhere you would be. Including the concert. Would you really be so selfish to endanger hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent concert goers just to 'hang out' with people you can see any time you please?" The disappointment on his face and the coldness of his delivery had her feeling ashamed. She hung her head low trying to hold back the tears. 

"I'm sorry." She knew her voice was barely above whisper, but if she tried to speak any louder she knew she'd open the flood gatesp.

Damian brushed past her. "You should be. I'll be heading to the concert with my brothers. I'll inform Jagged of your apologies for not coming."

"Just telling him I'm sick." She offered weakly still not looking up from the floor.

She could feel his judgeful look on her. "Of course not. He'll insist on coming to check on you then he'll see your lying. I'll tell him you're busy with commissions." He left her standing there as headed to leave again. She heard his phone ring and he answered it harshly. "I'm coming down, Todd!" "Of course not, you imbecile! She's a serious designer who can't be bothered out of her schedule to spend time with my idiotic brothers, especially when she's up to her nose in commissions!" She heard the door shut after that statement. I guess her soon to be brothers in law didn't know the real reason behind her lock down either. She stood there for a few more moments before she broke down into loud heavy sobs. She collapsed to her knees and just cried. Not for the first nor last time in that prison she called an apartment.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Her hands were moving furiously as she was trying to rid her mind of her cruel ex.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

She wanted to forget everything about him.

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His smile, his laugh, the loving look in his eyes.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His kisses, his hugs, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing her

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His scowl, his glare, his need to hide her from the world

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His distance, his apathy, the way he was happy in any other girl's arms but her's

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Get you out of my head.

She wanted to forget loving him and hating him. She wanted her happiness back

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

Shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

And now that I'm without you kisses

I'll be needing stitches

I'll be needing stitches.

As she finished singing she awoke from her haze. She felt the tears on her face and wiped them away before looking to see what she had made. The simple heart from before now had a jagged line down the middle that stopped a quarter of the way to the bottom to represent a break. From the bottom it looked like the heart was dripping. The most noticeable change was the crude yet tasteful stitches that laid over the break in the heart. They weren't neat as if she were suggesting they were professionally done. The way she laid them subconsciously represented as if they were self done by someone trying their best.

While she was studying her impromptu embroidery a voice surprised her. "It looks nice."

She looked up in shock to see a brown haired boy around her age, 21 maybe 22, sitting at the table closest to the stage she was on. He looked as if he had been there for a while.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing so I came to see who it was because you have a beautiful voice, but then I saw you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you seem really focused and I didn't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to just leave you either, but- I'm sorry I'm rambling. My name is Peter. Are you okay?" The boy, Peter, asked her softly, looking concerned. For Marinette it was enough.

She had sat in the chair next to him and finally let out everything she was holding in. The tears were flowing freely now "I don't know. I'm so mad, so hurt, so confused. Where did it go wrong? One minute I'm getting my business degree at Gotham University, the next I'm in a relationship with Damian Wayne. It was amazing he was so kind and sweet and loving and he made me so happy. Then next thing I know after dating for about a year and half he proposes. I'm on cloud 9 and I say yes and I'm so excited for what's to come, but suddenly everything changes. Next thing I know he's saying I can't leave the apartment because he wants me to be safe from the Rogues and I accepted it. Then he's yelling at me for trying to sneak out and I'm thinking I deserve it. I should have just stayed home and he's already apologizing for yelling. Then suddenly he's gone more and more. He's never home and I'm alone and it hurts. Then suddenly I'm selfish for asking to go out to see my friends because how can I put everyone at risk just to go see some friends who I can see anytime I want. Yet nobody is ever allowed over. But I still believe he's right. How can I be So now I'm alone and miserable and it hurts because he keeps getting further and further from me and I'm starting to suspect what's going on but I'm too scared to ask him because if he confirms it, then everything I believed in is a lie and I couldn't live with that. But I didn't even have to ask because soon someone is sending me a picture and it's the girl who made my school life hell by taking everyone I thought was my friend away from me with a few far fetched lies, and here she is laying naked on my fiance's naked chest as he sleeps. And I know he knows who she is and what she did to me because I told him. Yet he doesn't care because here he is fucking her while I'm at home all the time because he told me to be. So I grabbed my stuff and left everything he ever got me and just left. So here I am miserable staying with my Uncle Tony trying not to think about the asshole while my friends try to help me feel better yet I feel terrible because I loved the jerk and I still kinda do and I still have the engagement ring which I should pawn, but it was Bruce's mom's ring and that would be wrong and Bruce would be devastated. Why do I care so much about him and his family when he couldn't be bothered with me?" She felt better after finally letting it all out. She hadn't cried since she came to Uncle Tony. Not when Adrien arrived with Kagami, Marc, and Nathaniel, not when Luka arrived with Uncle Jagged and not even when Chole and Alix arrived. All her friends and pseudo family were there yet she hadn't cried once, nor had she actually told them the full story. But here this stranger asked if she was okay and she let it flow like Niagara Falls.

If Peter was shocked by her rant he didn't let it show. Instead he placed a hand on her before speaking softly "Because you are an amazing person who is a million times better than him. He is insane to choose anyone over you especially someone so foul as a desperate liar. I just met you, but I can already tell that you are a kind hearted, talented girl and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives and I can tell by the crowd over there by the door that you have many people standing with you who already figured that out." Marinette looked up at his words to see her friends and pseudo uncles and their respective wives standing in the door. 

"Hi guys." As soon as Marinette finished speaking they all rushed towards her. Adrien reached her first pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh bugaboo, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us, princess?" He buried his face in her neck purring slightly in a way that calmed her.

"I guess I was still processing everything kitty. He really had me thinking he loved me and to find out he didn't was a hard blow." She confessed quietly.

"He'll meet my blade for hurting you, Mari," Kagami seemed to have Chole, Alix and surprisingly, Marc ready to back her. 

"No, Gami, I just want to get over him. He's not worth it." Mari remarked sadly before smiling at her friends. "But thank you, all of you, for having my back."

There were various "Of course" and "Always" that were heard among the group before Tony Stark cleared his throat. "Marinette let me properly introduce Peter Parker, my intern. Peter, this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng also known as MDC owner and head designer of Miracle Designs."

Peter looked star struck. "I love your work. You make the coolest clothes on the planet."

Marinette blushed lightly. "Thank you, Peter. Uncle Tony told me much about you and I was always impressed. You're nothing short of a genius." Marinette missed Peter's blush as she started introducing her friends to him, but Tony didn't.

"This is Adrien Agreste, former model and Physics major. This is Kagami Tsurugi, world champion fencer. This is Luka Couffanie, singer songwriter signed under Jagged Stone. They're dating. This is Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Marc Anciel creators of Miraculous Tales comic. They're engaged. This is Chole Bourgeois, the best lawyer in all of France and probably Europe. And this is Alix Kubdel, X Games Winner, and famous archeologists. These two are also engaged. I'm sure you know Jagged Stone and his manager and also his wife, Penny." 

"You guys are amazing! None of you look much older than me yet you're already so successful! What is in the water in Paris? Some kind of talent steroids?" Peter was amazed.

"Speaking of talent," Luka turned towards Marinette. "Melody why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" Soon everyone was agreeing that she was an excellent singer.

Marinette was bright red. "It's no big deal guys. I was just singing to myself, I wasn't expecting an audience."

Jagged took his chance to pull his pseudo niece into a hug. "Nettie, my girl you have got to let me sign you. It would be so rocking to have talent like yours produced under my label!"

"No way Uncle Jagged! I'm not even that good!" Marinette began protesting before Luka put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about this? I need some vocals for a song I wrote and no matter how much I love them, my dear boyfriend and girlfriend can not sing." Adrien and Kagami looked at each other before shrugging. No point denying it. "How about you feature in my new single under an alias and if it's hit you'll give an album a try?"

Marinette looked around at some of the most important people in the world to her before sighing and agreeing.

"Alright. But no promises that this will be hit. I'm really not that good. You guys are just biased."

Alix ruffled Marinette's hair. "Whatever you say, DC. Now let's go play some UMS3!"

As everyone was heading out to find a room large enough for all of them Peter prepared to go back to work on a project until Marinette turned back to him with a huge smile and bright eyes. "Come on Peter! Come play with us." 

How could he say no to that? So he came along.

A couple weeks later Luka's single "Partners in Crime" featuring Neon Titanium hit number one on the charts. And the most searched inquiry on Google for 3 days following was "who is Neon Titanium?" Needless to say Marinette was busy for the next couple months. Especially after Luka dropped a music video which she starred in as well wear a full face mask to stay hidden.

[themadlostgirl]

Tech Wizard

*School is kicking my ass but I finally caught a break! Gonna pump out as many requests as my dumb brain can muster while I can!*

Prompt: Modern reader with modern tech amazes our Lost Boy. Also some cute fluffy flustered reader cause I couldn’t help myself.

Requested by: anon

Warnings: none

~~~

Being of the modern era on an island with absolutely no modern technology--let me rephrase--being on an island with no technology outside of rope pulleys and ladders is horrifying. I am a girl that is used to having things such as wi-fi and smartphones and electricity and indoor plumbing! Now I am on an island that doesn’t so much as have an outhouse!

But I can manage. I am fine. Because despite this place having no technology like cellphone towers or outlets electronics still work. Because time doesn’t move or whatever my phone battery never dies and I have full bars and service everywhere I go. It’s actually amazing.

It was me flashing my tech that kept me from getting locked in a cage my first night on Neverland. The Lost Boys were amazed and Peter Pan especially was intrigued by my technology. The first night on the island was spent with me sitting down with him showing him everything my smartphone could do.

“And if you tap this icon it’ll open the camera.” I pressed the camera button. “See?”

“Fascinating. The last time I saw a camera it was this huge contraption with this bright burst of light and a bulb. Yet you can take pictures just with this hunk of glass and metal?”

“Cool right?” I showed him how to zoom in and out. “Oh and if you swipe the screen like this it’ll open the front facing camera. That way you can take selfies.”

“Selfies?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah, they’re picture you take of yourself. Here, let me show you. Scoot in closer so you can see both our faces in the screen.” I pressed my cheek against his to get out faces to fit. “Say cheese!”

I took the picture and pulled it up in the gallery. “See? And this is the gallery where you can look at all the other pictures you’ve taken.”

“The quality is amazing. Who are these other people in the your gallery?” He asked as he scrolled through the other images.

“Oh, those are just old friends I lost contact with after I moved.” It was sad seeing all their faces again.

“And this one?” he clicked on a picture of me kissing my ex’s cheek. “You seem rather close with this particular friend.”

“Ex-boyfriend. Things didn’t end well.” I took the phone back. “I know I should have deleted the photos by now but I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

As if sensing that the subject was making me uncomfortable he asked what other features my phone had. I was glad for the distraction and brought up my music app. “It’s basically like having a music box with hundreds of thousands of songs at your fingertips. Here’s a good one.”

I clicked on Man with the Hex. Maybe I should have started with something softer but honestly since stepping onto this island it was all I could think of. Well that and Somewhere In Neverland. I wonder how he would react if I told him about the songs and movies Peter had inadvertently inspired.

“What other music do you have?” Peter asked.

“Tons. I basically got a little bit of everything. There are some songs inspired by the fictional you that I told you about. Did you want to hear one?”

“Songs? What else has this fictional counterpart of mine inspired?”

“A stage play, tv shows, a couple of movies. The animated one is a classic and hilarious but the 2003 live action film is just so wholesome and innocent.”

“Did you refer to me as wholesome and innocent?”

“Well, your fictional counterpart is a kid not a teenager. I’d say he’s at max maybe twelve or thirteen years old when they show him in films.”

“I see...”

“If I can get my hands on a projector we could set up a movie night and I could show you guys one of the movies. I think everyone would get a kick out of it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I can’t wait.” Peter and I sat there all night as I played him different songs and we played app games. I started to fall asleep but he still wanted to play with my phone so I handed it over for him to use while I caught a couple hours of shut eye.

I woke up a couple hours later to soft music playing near my ear. The surface I was sleeping on was also a lot softer than I remember falling asleep on. I peeked my eyes open and noticed that at some point I had slumped over and fallen asleep on Peter’s lap.

“Hey, sorry for falling asleep on you.” I yawned. “Still having fun?”

“Yes. It is a fascinating piece of technology.”

“I know.” I realized what song he was playing and smiled. “I see you found my Disney playlist.”

“Disney?”

“Movie company. They’re the people that made that animated feature I told you about.” I sat up, “I don’t have any movies saved on my phone but I can pull it up on YouTube. Give me a second.” I took the phone back and looked up the song he had been listening to.

Cause of course it had to be Kiss the Girl. I wonder how Peter would react to seeing a movie that portrayed mermaids as nice instead of the vicious killers Neverland has.

I started the video and watched him as he watched the video. It was like watching a little kid. He was so impressed by things I thought were so commonplace. “And this was all hand drawn?”

“Yep. Cool, right?”

“Very.”

Our eyes met and my heart leapt into my throat. He was a lot closer than I thought. I could practically feel his breath on my face.

Yes, you want her Look at her, you know you do Possible she want you too, there is one way to ask her It don't take a word, not a single word Go on and kiss the girl

Why couldn’t I have played Poor Unfortunate Souls or Circle of Life? Why did I have to put on this song? It was giving me ideas I don’t think I should be having.

Look like the boy too shy He ain't gonna kiss the girl Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad? Ain't it a shame? Too bad He gonna miss the girl

It was only made all the worse by the fact that he wouldn’t stop staring at me now.

Now's your moment Floating in a blue lagoon Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better She don't say a word and she won't say a word Until you kiss the girl

He looked at me with a smirk. “Is it true?”

“Hm?” I didn’t trust myself to speak at that moment.

“Are you not gonna say a word until I kiss you?” His grin grew wider and my panic grew deeper.

“No. No, I can talk.” I stammered out. “I was just--you know what? I never showed you how to record videos on this. Check this out.” I quickly closed the app and opened the camera again. “See, we click this button and when he tap the center button now it’ll record.”

“It records anything?” He asked with that same mischievous smile of his.

“Yeah. Sure does.”

“That could come in very handy. Let me see.” He took the phone and aimed it at us to record. “There is something that I’d like to hold onto.”

“What’s that?”

“Your flustered face.” He pecked my cheek and my mouth dropped open.

“Peter!”

“And now I have that face forever!” he laughed as he played the video back. “You are going to have to bring more of this stuff over, my little technology wizard. I want to have much more fun with these devices.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I nodded furiously. “I’ll be sure to get right on that. There are tons of movies and video games I think you guys would really like. I could also bring over some flashlights. They’re like torches but they won’t set stuff on fire. Who knows, I might even bring over a karaoke machine. I think that would be really funny to witness.”

“Whatever you say.” Peter lounged back. “Now explain to me what a karaoke machine is.”

[ciderxi]

Deal-Wooyoung

Pairing; Wooyoung x reader

Genre: Smut, Enemies

Warnings: Smut 

Word Count: 1.4k

You looked up at him, giving him big dowey eyes as you sat on your knees in front of him. Doing your best to ignore the tent he had pitched in his pants. "Do I really have to do this?" Wooyoung continued to play with your hair as you stalled what you both knew was bound to happen. "Of course not, you could always just pay to repair Hongjoong's laptop yourself" you sighed as you realized you having a drink anywhere near Hongjoong's stuff was a bad idea in the first place, considering what a clumsy fuck you were. Quickly getting lost in thought, ending up just staring mindlessly into nowhere.

Wooyoung gently raised your chin up to look at him, biting his bottom lip as he waited in anticipation. "Or, i can just pay for in, in exchange for our little deal"

"I hate you" you whined, crossing your arms, covering your chest.

"And yet you're still going to fuck me~" lust dripping from the end of his words, caressing your check, gently nugging you to the pulsing heat in his pants.

You groaned softly, reaching to the hem of his sweatpants, and pulling it down, immediately getting slapped in the face by his springing cock. You look at it in shock, wiping precum from your cheek,

"If you're just going to stare with your mouth open, i might just half to help myself~"

You leaned in slowly, giving a short lick to his red tip. Wooyoung's body shivered in delight, gripping the wall in front of him to stabilize himself. You cocked your head back at his reaction, seeing how that little lick forced such a reaction out of him. "It's not a fucking lolipop Y/n" he growled, quickly recomposing his dominant demeanor. His fingers quickly entangled them in your hair, nugging you closer to his throbbing tip.

Hesitantly, you looked up at him, making sure to maintain eye contact, and slowly took the tip into your mouth. Letting out a low hum as you worked your way down. Wooyoung let out a soft quiet moan, his hips subconsciously thrusting towards you.

You groaned softly feeling him force his dick towards the back of your throat

This immediately gave you a boost of confidence. If he was going to make you blow him, then you were going to make sure you brought him to his knees. You pushed him back slightly, taking back control. Immediately going halfway down on his rather large dick, causing you to gag slightly "Fuck.." Wooyoung moaned, the eye contact almost driving him to the edge, almost.

With each bob of your head, you took him deeper and deeper, until you felt his tip graze the back of your throat. you choked slightly, gagging around his cock as your eyes started to water. you didn't dare stop though, Wooyoung's moans being too much encouragement to do so. "Y/n stop being such a-Arghh" his words being cut a guttural moan leaving his lips

You only moaned in defiance, sucking him harder. you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, reveling in the drawn out groan you elicited from him. wanting to hear more of that, you set yourself into work mode; you're head bobbing faster, sucking harder, moaning every now and again to send shockwaves through his body. He let out a low growl as he pulled your head away from his cock, forcing you to face him. "You think you can control me with that pretty mouth of yours, but you can't" he gave you a wink, leaving you confused as he pulled up his pants, and practically dragged you to his bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed, wasting no time to climb on top of you, removing your skirt, tossing it to the side along with your now soaked panties. "You're so wet, and I haven't even touched you. Let's see how you like it" You barely had time to register what was going on as he moved his face between your legs, tossing your legs onto his shoulders. as he fell to his knees, hooking your legs over his shoulders. He stared down hungrily t you, before darting his tongue between your drenched lower lips.

You felt your breathing hitch as the warm sensation filled you with pleasure. "Wooyo-" you words being cut off with a loud moan. Wooyoung wasted no time before immediately letting his tongue explore every inch his tongue could reach. Licking up every bit of your arousal. Your hand immediately went to tug on his hair, letting moans flow freely as his tongue moved in waves. Causing your hips to buckle in immense pleasure. " Wooyoung I'm going to cum!" you cried out in desperation, hips bucking against his tongue. Feeling your stomach churning, moments away from orgasm.

Wooyoung pulled away from your lower lips, causing you to whine desperately. "Wooyoung, please I want to cum"

"The only thing you're going to be cumming on is my dick"

Wooyoung looked at your needy expression, making slow work of taking off his pants, he wanted you to beg for it.

You watched as he slowly began removing his pants, cock springing up, ready to pound into you. "Wooyounngg, stop teasing me and fuck me"

"No please?"

"Pleaseeee" you begged, wiggling your hips, needing him inside of you

Wooyoung climbed on top of you, pressing his tip against your needy entrance. Thrusting right below it, making you you knew he was in charge. "I'll go when I say so, not when you want to~" he cooed into your ear. He slipped the tip inside, causing you to moan, wrapping your legs around you. He laughed as he immediately removed himself from your entrance, causing your mind to search for desperate measures.

"If you won't fuck me, then maybe San or Yeosang will" you teased, sending him into a rage. He cupped your face with one hand, forcing you to look at him. "You have no idea what you just did"

Wooyoung rammed himself inside of you, filling your walls mercilessly, bottoming out. Hushing your screams as he wrapped his hand around your throat.The bed creaks, the headboard knocking against the wall with each relentless thrust of Wooyoung's cock inside you, his grunts strained, the words falling from his lips both a string of incoherent moans and words, barely containing himself from moaning your name.You clench at the sound of him moaning your name, feeling every ridge of his cock drag against your walls as he's mercilessly pounding into you, his skin slapping against yours, his grunts and yours in unison filling the room. Your toes curled as you felt a churning in your stomach so soon. Your hands clawing his back as you slurred moans uncontrollable.

His hands slowly let go of your neck, slipping down to squeeze your pink buds, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. "Say my name~ let everyone know you you belong to"

You bite down on your lip, trying to muffle your moans, hearing the faint sounds of footsteps walking through the front door. Wooyoung grinned down you as his fingers pinched your nipple. Coercing a loud moan out "WOOYOUNG~" you cry out in pleasure, your hips jolting up as your eyes rolled back, squirting wildly as Wooyoung continued slamming into you. His thrusts becoming sloppy and more animalistic as he feels himself cumming, "fuck," he moaned, hips snapping against yours, the only sound in the room along with your violent moans. the feeling of his come coating your insides, filling you up causing you to wrap tightly around him, your body subconsciously wanting to keep him close.

He collapsed on top of you, the room filled with only the sound of heavy breathing as he rolled off of you, and pulled you towards him" Y/n I l-"

"Y/N ARE YOU OK-" Jongho burst into the room, followed by 6 worried idols poking their head curiously, wondering what was causing you to scream so loudly, fearing the worst. All bursting in the room holding whatever they could use as a weapon.

Jongho immediately drops his apple, mouth hanging ajar as stood the frozen, Wooyoung eyes shooting open as you both scrambled to cover yourself. "What are you looking at??" The members scrambling to cover Jongho's poor innocent eyes.

"Next time lock the door" Seonghwa mumbled as he hurried the rest of the members out of the unsuspecting porn set.

[angelsfalling16]

The Way You Wear That Dress

Inspired by the song Dress by Charlotte Sands

Part of the 20 First Kisses Series

Summary: It's the beginning of eighth year, and Simon can't find Baz at the Welcome Back Picnic, so he goes in search of him. What he finds is unexpected and makes him rethink everything he has ever felt for Baz.

Word Count: 2150

If you want to know what I imagined Baz’s outfit looking like, here are the links to the dress and the boots! (I love the idea of Baz in these boots and have used them in a couple of fics now.)

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

It’s the beginning of eighth year, and I’m pretty sure Baz is already up to something. He isn’t at the Welcome Back picnic with everyone else, so I decide to go in search of him and stop whatever scheme he’s about to put into motion.

I start with our room, wondering if maybe he decided to go back up there, but the room looks the same as it always is at the beginning of term. My side is devoid of any personal items since I didn’t have anything I felt like bringing back from the care homes (not that I really had anything there). Baz’s side is immaculate, all of his things neatly put away in their respective places, filled but not cluttered.

I move over to the window to look out at the school. It seems empty right now with everyone else out at the picnic. My eyes skate over the courtyard where, not long ago, the first years’ fates were sealed by the Crucible. I only hope none of them were given as evil a roommate I was.

My gaze continues over the grounds for anyone who isn’t out on the lawn, and after a minute of searching I catch movement on the ramparts.

It could be anyone, but I know it’s him.

I turn away from the window and head back down the stairs and away from Mummers House. I quickly but quietly make my way to where Baz is, not wanting to scare him off before I can figure out what he’s up to but also wanting to get to him before he disappears again.

I come to a stop several feet away from where he stands on the ramparts. It isn’t what he’s doing that causes me to freeze, though. It’s what he’s wearing.

At first, I wonder if he has decided to don the Watford-issued cape for his final year, but then I realize that the swishing of cloth around him isn’t a cape. It’s a dress.

The dark green material falls to just above his knee in the front, giving just a glimpse of his thighs, but in the back, it nearly grazes the ground. At the top, around Baz’s shoulders and chest and around to his back, the material is sheer with interwoven lace, allowing his pale, grey skin to show through. He wears the dress like it’s nothing, like it was made specifically for him. (Knowing Baz, it probably was).

My eyes follow the line of his dress down to his things and knees, but where I expect to see the rest of his legs – his muscular football calves – I’m met with the sight of knee-high boots that are laced up the back and have a heel that adds at least two inches to two inches Baz already has over me.

I can’t seem to stop staring at his outfit, but I finally manage to force my eyes back up, and that’s when I notice Baz’s hair.

For the first time since I’ve met him, Baz is wearing his hair down with no products slicking it back away from his face. Instead, it’s being pushed back by a thin headband, silver like his eyes, that still allows his hair to fall in natural waves around his face.

Suddenly, my mouth is dry and my throat feels tight. I try to form words in my head, but my mind is blank. All I can think is, legs. And that’s when I know that I’m fucked.

How is it that Baz looks so good in a dress? He should look ridiculous. I should want to ridicule him for it. Instead, all I can do is stare and hope that he doesn’t turn and find me staring at him.

For a full minute, my eyes slowly drag up and down his body, taking it all in, before I force myself to look away, not wanting to get caught staring at him. Inevitably, though, my eyes are drawn back to him. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s really him. I just can’t reconcile this version of Baz with the version I’ve known for seven years. He looks so different, but he also looks very much like himself. Possibly even more like himself than he ever has. (If that makes sense.)

I wonder what happened to him this summer. It’s like there was a shift somewhere within him that made him act and dress differently. I just don’t know what it is.

He is dressed so femininely, but he still holds this masculinity about him, and the whole thing is driving me crazy. He pulls it off so effortlessly.

He’s dripping with confidence as he leans his arms on the ramparts, a lit cigarette hanging between his fingers.

I know the smart thing to do would be to turn away and leave him be, but doing what’s smart has never really been my strong suit.

I take a few steps towards him even though I haven’t consciously made the decision to do so. I feel drawn to him like a string is pulling me towards him, and as I draw nearer, I notice a glossiness to his lips, as if he’s spread lip gloss or something over them.

I want to hit him. Why does he always look so good? It’s annoying. 

My eyes fall back to the dress he’s wearing, and I can only imagine what other people might think if they saw him like this. For starters, he’s out of uniform, and also, he looks bloody well perfect, like nothing he wears will ever make him look bad.

I briefly consider going to find the mage and telling him what Baz is wearing, but breaking dress code isn’t enough to get him kicked out of school. Plus, I’m not sure I want to share this side of Baz with anyone else.

I’m not sure why but it probably has a lot to do with the fact that Baz has obviously chosen a place away from everyone else, maybe so they won’t see him like this and judge him for it. But it could be something else holding me back. Something like this desperate need I’m feeling to put my hands on him.

I want to push him up against the wall and…and…. That’s where my thoughts cut off because usually when I push Baz against the wall, I want to punch him, but today, that’s not what I want. I don’t want to fight him. I want to…

I shake my head. I can’t finish that thought, can’t think about what it means.

And yet…

An image pops into my head of my hands on his hips, rubbing against the luxurious material of the dress he’s wearing. Of my hands in his hair, tangling in it. Of his breath on my cheek. Of the feeling of his glossed lips on mine. Of the moment he starts to kiss me back and--.

And I shake my head again.

I won’t lie and say that I don’t want any of that, but I can’t be foolish enough to allow myself to hope for it. Nothing has changed. Baz still hates me, and he’d laugh in my face if he found out that I want to kiss him.

Because I do. Want to kiss him, that is. And it’s not just because of the dress. I think that was just the thing that pushed me to finally admit how I feel. How I’ve felt for a long time.

But Baz will never feel the same way about me.

I should go. I can’t let him catch me practically drooling at the sight of him in that dress.

I turn away from him, but I turn too quickly and trip on my own feet, cursing loudly as I try to catch myself.

“Simon?” Baz says behind me.

“Uh…” I say stupidly, picking myself up off the ground and slowly turning to face him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, you w-weren’t at the picnic. I came looking for y-you,” I stutter out as my face flushes red.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” he says, and his voice sounds strangled.

He drops the cigarette to ground and grounds it out with the toe of a boot that probably costs more than everything I have ever owned. That sight shouldn’t make me even more attracted to him, but it does.

He turns one of his usual sneers on me and snaps something snarky at me, probably the beginning of chewing me out for following him, but I barely hear a word he says because I’m so mesmerized by the way he looks. Also, the sound of his voice is somewhat soothing, even with the biting words that no doubt spill from his glossy lips. I missed hearing it while we were away for the summer.

He’s looking at me expectantly now, like he’s waiting for me to answer a question I didn’t hear, and I feel myself blush even deeper.

What the hell is wrong with me? This is Baz. He’s just wearing a dress. I shouldn’t be acting this weird around him.

That’s when I see his nails, colored all black, a glossy sheen to them, and that’s the last straw.

I can’t possibly think straight anymore, so I push all thoughts from my mind and move to close the distance between us. Careful not to mess up the dress, I shove him up against the wall but stop just before our lips meet.

The heels of his boots cause him to tower over me even more than usual, but I’m not bothered by it. I actually kind of love it.

His mouth is parted as if I stopped him mid-word, and the tips of his ears are turning pink. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though. I’ve never been very good at reading people, especially not when it’s Baz.

“If you’re going to punch me, get it over with already, Snow,” he sneers.

“You called me Simon before,” I say.

“No, I didn’t.”

I shrug. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is, “I don’t want to punch you. Far from it actually.”

He hasn’t pushed me away yet, and my confidence starts to build. Maybe Baz would be more receptive to this than I originally thought. 

I keep one hand on his hip to keep him pinned to the wall and move the other one up to cup the side of his face.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, hesitantly. He nods, so I move my hand up higher, into his hair. My hand slides over the headband and combs through his hair. “What about this?” I ask, my voice breathy and barely audibly.

He nods again.

My eyes drop down to his mouth, and I want to try one more thing, but I don’t want to push my luck. I don’t want to risk trying too much and losing it all.

“Just do it,” Baz whispers as though he read my mind.

I cock my head at him in a question, uncertain whether he actually means what I think he does. Then he says “kiss me” so I quietly I almost don’t hear him. But I do hear him, and it only takes me a beat to lean forward and press my lips firmly to his.

The kiss is everything I imagined and more. His lips taste like cherry cola, and I feel drunk on the taste of him. Like I’ve lost all sense. (And maybe I have since I’m kissing Baz of all people.)

It only takes a moment for Baz to begin kissing me back, his arms coming up to wrap around me and pull me closer. I can feel the dress move along his body as he moves under my hand, and I feel lucky that I get to experience this. It’s a shame that he’ll only be wearing the uniform after this.

I wonder if he would even want to wear this dress in front of other people if he could.

I like the way he looks in it, but I obviously wasn’t meant to see him like this. Does he like wearing the dress? Is he afraid of what other people might think? Has he worn it before?

I have a million questions, but now is not the time to ask. If Baz wants to talk to me about his choice to wear the dress, I’ll be there to listen. But I won’t pressure him into talking about it.

So, for now, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

I’m going to enjoy this while I can. Having Baz in my hands and not fighting with him. This is so much better than fighting, I think, and I continue to kiss him, thinking about how this may be the best year at Watford yet.

[jasminau]

Drabbles

heres two drabbles that i started writing ages ago and haven’t had the motivation to finish (yet? i dont rly plan on completing them but who knows lol)

> Carvings — 610 words > A Poison Too Sweet — 690 words, nsfw

Carvings — nsfw (implied)

The shallow red scratches along my torso plead to become valleys, to drip with crimson liquid through the planes of flesh and leave deep scars that will mark the memory. Though I can’t push the knife further, my hand refuses to dig into my own flesh as if I’ve never been cut before, as if he hasn’t drawn this exact knife to my body countless times in the past. But the action of doing it myself is what has the knots in my stomach coiling with uncertainty. I find it strange, how I’d rather it be him who was running the sharp edge of the blade along my torso, nevermind how he becomes reckless with it, that whenever the knife splits my skin, he falls into a frenzy, how just one cut isn’t enough to sate the dark desire for blood within him. 

He sits across from me on the ragged couch, arms spread across the backrest with his knees spread, and although he appears relaxed, the twitch of his upper lip and drooping eyes tell me something’s off. Though from the atmosphere of the room when he walked in, how his footsteps landed heavier on the old floorboards and how he sucked the inside of his cheek, nipping at the scars, I could tell there was anger bubbling close to the surface. 

“Enough with the teasing - let’s see some blood,” 

Even with grave playfulness in the uneven tones of his voice, I know his patience is wearing thin — it always is —, but I can’t help but drop my hands to my sides, taking the knife far from making purchase in any accidental cuts it may bring. With the absence of the blade, there’s a quick breath of relief that leaves me, knots in my stomach slowly unwinding themselves, but they’re quick to tighten again upon watching his slight smile drop into a coarse glare.

His eyes must be filled with a paralysing poison, black ink that fills my veins, drawing me into an unmoving state where all I can do is wait for him to look away. But he doesn’t, staring up at me until I feel small, until I’m certain my knees will give out if he wants them to.

“Come here.” His arm drops from the backrest of the couch, hand smoothing out the material on his thigh to beckon me forward. Though his voice is grave, spikes of anger filling the space between us.

Any self-preservation would’ve told me not to, to stay as far away from him as possible when he’s barely containing the bubbling anger, but it’s too late. It was too late when he walked in and saw me lying stomach-down on the bed, half naked while playing with his knife in my hand. It was too late when he came over, ran his gloved hand along the back of my thigh, looking down at me with hungry desire. It was too late when he leaned down, whispering in my ear to give him a show. When I followed his instructions and positioned myself on the edge of the bed, arching my back unconsciously to show off my figure as I ran the blade along my torso. 

Although, I should have known shallow scratches wouldn’t have been enough for him. 

“Sweetheart, I think if you want to… stay in one piece, you’ll, ah, listen to what I say,”

A Poison Too Sweet — nsfw (oral)

My tongue creates a river of saliva as it slowly licks up his shaft, flattening out to cover as much of him as I can while my hand wraps around the tip, gently pulling with a slight rotation of my wrist. His eyes are on me, of course they are, but they seem to be drawing darker by the second. A dark abyss deepening until it’s like there’s nothing there at all, nothing pure. The black in his eyes harbour a darkness that only hatred fulfills. Hatred. Hunger. They’re completely hypnotising, so easy to get lost in. I try to search for truth when I look into his eyes, read into any hint of emotions, any sign of where his mind is, where it intends to go, but it’s like getting pulled deeper underwater. So determined on finding what is at the bottom before realising how far you’ve swam, how long it will take to swim back to the surface, the agonising burn in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. 

It’s not until the small drops of precum lather my tongue that I realise how deeply his eyes pull me in every time. I present this to him, too, before making a show out of spreading it over my lips, trying to coax any kind of reaction out of him. He hates the gentleness, but I know he loves seeing himself in me. I know he likes when his cum sits on my tongue, when he can watch me swallow it, when he can mark me as his. But I don’t want to make it so easy this time. The heat seeping from between my legs wants him to use me, my body begs for his touch, for the stretch only he gives, but I want it to be different this time. I want to see how far I can press him, see how much - or how little - it takes for him to push past my lips and bury himself deep in my throat. I know the anger within him boils at the surface, and it’s never taken much for that anger to spill over, but I’ve never tried it like this. Never when I was on my knees before him, big eyes looking up at him as if he were God himself with his precum spread over my lips.

“Ah. You want to play, do you?” 

Even with his voice gravely deep, rumbling from his chest, I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips. It’s a small act, one that I try to bathe in innocence, but he’s already seen the true meaning. Couldn’t miss it, with his eyes burning through my soul every time they land on me, with how they haven’t left my face ever since I got on my knees. He reads my thoughts as if I write them out in the air and present them to him, but as the silence slowly creeps closer from the corners of the room, I know the simple expression isn’t enough. 

“No,” I say, my voice so soft it hardly fends off the silence drawing closer to us. Keeping my eyes on his, I slowly run my tongue around the tip of his cock, collecting more precum that has started to drip.

“No?” My head is yanked back before I realise his hand has brushed through my hair, grip so tight he could pull it out from the roots if he wanted. “Maybe you should put that mouth to good use then, hm?” His voice sounds oddly calm as his fingernails begin to dip into my scalp, eyes searching for any hints of pain that might flash through my expression.

I feel inclined to dig deeper, self-preservation a long lost friend I was never interested in keeping in contact with. The toxicity tastes too sweet, and I want to devour it whole. I want to snatch the bait with both hands, pull the simmering anger out from within him just to breathe in the fruit of violence. I want to watch it ripen, I want to feel the aftershocks of his rage blossom on my skin.

[crispyjenkins]

I’m resending it now! ok so what if for some reason Obi’s lightsaber either gets destroyed or the crystal stops resonating with him & He’s with Jango who goes with him to wherever the force guides him to find his new crystal at & like Obi goes through some wack vision/trial from the force and when he gets through it his new crystal reveals itself and it’s the same type of crystal like in the dark saber? And Jango is just losing it when he sees it bc he thinks “HOW?! but also, That’s HOT” hehe

(my DUDE i’m so flippin glad you re-sent this, i’ve had to force myself not to write this one so i could get other people’s prompts out, and i was at first unsure of how to spin this, but holy FECK is it all i can think about now. i just. i just want to write so much of this obi. i’m sorry i didn’t get to jango much, but you bet your butters he and obi are connected every which way in this, in ways beyond force bonds because i’m a dramatic bitch.

i hope y’all enjoy this one as much as i did!!)

edit 6/26/20: this is now part of a full fix-it! you can read it as it updates here on my Ao3! updates on fridays.

  Illum is colder than he remembered, though the last time Obi-Wan had been here, he had not feared wrapping himself up in the Force. It’s been... Force, he hasn’t been back since after Melida/Daan, and something in him breaks again at the thought that he’d lost the ‘saber that had been with him for more than a decade. But, no, a lightsaber is a small price to pay to have saved his master.

  His former master. He isn't Qui-Gon’s apprentice anymore, Anakin had made sure of that.  

  Obi-Wan had been sent to Illum alone, no younglings in need of making their first ‘saber, and no one else needing to replace theirs; Anakin has a few more months in the crèche before he can build his, and Obi-Wan can’t thank the council enough that he doesn’t have to walk the caves knowing his replacement is somewhere doing the same. With Qui-Gon still in the Halls, Master Plo had stepped forward in offer to knight him, and had almost had to fight Master Depa for the honor, which was... strange. He’s used to quite the opposite of masters fighting over him, but an amused Yoda had almost used his lineage status to refuse them both for himself instead, until Mace, as Master of the Order, had given the right to Plo Koon. And Jedi do not gloat, but the Kel Dor had certainly been smiling behind his mask.

  The doors to the caves open easily despite the ice, so maybe his great-grandmaster had been right about Obi-Wan rebuilding his lightsaber before his knighting ceremony. This thought doesn’t settle the feeling of intruding when he steps over the threshold, the marrow-deep feeling of being an imposter in one of the most holy places in the galaxy. 

  The kyber hums around him, as if he wasn’t at this exact moment considering walking away from the Order.

  He’s hardly a proper Jedi, is he? Killing a Sith with a sai tok, falling in love with Satine, holding a grudge against a nine year-old freed slave for taking his master away from him. Hadn’t he drawn on the dark side to defeat the Zabrak? Killed him not out of duty to his vow but in revenge for the fallen Qui-Gon? His lightsaber might have cauterised the wounds, but he has blood on his hands all the same.

  So he keeps walking, refusing to touch a single crystal he passes. The Force tugs him deeper into the caves anyways, and he has half a thought to ignoring it (does he even deserve to listen to it anymore?) but for all his tumultuous thoughts, Obi-Wan is beholden to the Force, beholden to the grip it has in his viscera. 

  He follows it as his breath forms clouds before his lips, frost on his skin that he cannot even feel. Where would he go, if he left? Stewjon is insular, they would not want him back, but he cannot stay at the Temple. Naboo, perhaps? Padmé would surely welcome him, but could he really settle down on such a peaceful planet after spending over half his life running around the stars with his master?

  Closing his eyes at the memory of Satine, he allows himself to... consider it. Would she still want him? They haven’t spoken since, but sometimes he can feel her in his mind still, a little warm bud that could bloom, if he let it. And even if she threw him out, Mandalore isn’t a bad place to restart.

  “Could I really?” he muses out loud, stepping over a great crack in the stone floor and setting his feet to follow a barely-there path towards the lake, only for the Force to have him veer away from it. Could he really give up being a Jedi? After every trial the Force had put him through to even become an apprentice? Oh, but he had tried so. kriffing. hard. to get this far, could he really do anything else?

  He swallows thickly and almost desperately pulls the Force back around himself, as if in apology, as if in repentance, as if anguish—

  Peace, it whispers, brushing over his mind even as it sinks claws into his ribs and pulls him up short.

  Obi-Wan is twelve again, wind whipping around him as the Jedi transport takes off from Bandomeer, Qui-Gon Jinn staring down at him. Force, but he hasn’t ever felt worse than when he feels their raw bond stretching with distance, yanking deep in him until he’s breathless, doesn’t Master Jinn feel it—?

  And Obi-Wan is sitting in the living room of their Temple apartment, kneeling on his cloth meditation mat across from Qui-Gon’s bamboo one. His master’s warmth surrounds him in a glittering cloud of comfort and ease, and they’ve been at this for five years now, and still Obi-Wan holds this as his most treasured memory, something to cling to when things seem desolate or he’s been arguing with Qui-Gon, or—

  He’s in the glass city of Sundari, brushing a hand over Satine’s cheek as she laughs, and Force, she’s even more beautiful than he remembers— She’s dying in his arms, bruises violent red around her throat, a sizzling ‘saber wound through her middle, and she’s beautiful even now, oh Force not like this—

  Obi-Wan is older, his joints a little creakier, his hair grey at the temples, and he has a beskad sticking out of his chest. Above him is a boy that looks suspiciously like him, red hair and green eyes but with Satine’s lips and eyebrows. Korkie, the Force tells him, as the boy leans over Obi-Wan and why is he angry? Ah, so this blade had not been meant for him—

  Anakin, little Anakin with a padawan braid beams up at him in a training salle with a practice saber in his fists. Obi-Wan moves to correct his kata, and though he’s... sure he had never learned this from Qui-Gon, he knows it’s Form III, he knows it’s Soresu like he knows his own name, like he knows the padawan bond in his mind and the warm nova glow of Anakin attached to his core—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth grey stone above a green, green cliff battered by ocean waves and briny air. He meditates with the knowledge he had come from here, the Force here as close to home as he could ever hope to achieve. He had not searched for the family that left him on the Temple steps, and that’s just fine by him, he could not have asked for a better place to begin his seclusion studies than Stewjon—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth red stone, the desert cliffs around him worn smooth from the sand that batters around him, ripping through his robes but never touching his skin. The Force is feral here, claws and bone and teeth teeth teeth, but somewhere out in the dunes, there shines Luke, pearlescent and good and proof that Obi-Wan has not failed just yet. 

  Satine is screaming at him as she shoves Korkie behind her back and raises a beskad that seems wrong, wrong in her hands, but he doesn’t have time to think about his heart wielding a blade, when he’s wielding the darksaber, whistling as it cuts through the air against Tor Vizsla, why had they trusted him, he knew he could not be trusted, and now his family is going to pay the price— His ‘saber, black as space, connects with Vizsla's, black as night, and Obi-Wan is not wielding the darksaber, but something else entirely, with a beskad’s edge, with a hum that’s almost a scream, that moves towards the darksaber with the intent to shatter—

  A Mando in blue and silver beskar’gam hands him a hilt, hammered durasteel wrapped in black leather, so unlike any Jedi ‘saber hilt he’s ever seen, but Obi-Wan knows it’s his from the way it sings, the way the Force insists it’s his his his—

  The blue and silver Mando with his helmet off, a man so unspeakably gorgeous that Obi-Wan wonders how he even copes— The Mando’s gloved hand grips Obi-Wan’s wrist, the face he knows so well twisted into dread and anger. Don’t go, they beg, but Obi-Wan must, he cannot abandon Mandalore, he cannot—, Don’t you realize that Zabrak’s fucking crazy? Obi-Wan, he’s going to kill you—

  Obi-Wan is older, but not much, pinned underneath blue and silver armour as Sundari glass and blasterfire rains around them—

  Obi-Wan watches the Beautiful Mando sleeping with his head pillowed on Obi-Wan’s arm, a new scar curling through his eyebrow that he hasn’t asked about yet—

  A mini Beautiful Mando eyes him suspiciously, hands on his hips while his buir stands behind him and tries not to laugh—

  Obi-Wan is on Illum, but he is not, he weaves his way through dusty streets he has never seen before and yet knows the way by heart, following that heart towards the hangar where his aliit waits. He has beads braided messily in his hair, twisted by pudgy fingers insisting Obi-Wan deserves to look just as pretty as his buir; that durasteel and leather hilt bounces against his hip, and he has a single blue and silver gauntlet on his right arm. He is a Jedi, the Force assures him, in the way light bends through him, but he is also Mando’ad, he knows that without needing to ask. He belongs to a planet and to a people that he did not start with, in a strange Force-willed way that he can’t explain, and he’s a Jedi, but he knows he has a family waiting for him in an old police craft. A black-bladed ‘saber hums at his side.

  Obi-Wan opens his eyes in front of a rock wall, glittering kyber in every colour rising up the sheer face until their little lights disappear into the darkness far above him. Just above eye-level, there is a small crater in the wall, as if the rest of the kyber cannot grow around the single crystal at the crater’s center. 

  It is opalescent and space-black, and looks as if it had been cut for a piece of opulent jewellery. The Force whispers heart heart heart, and he supposes it does look the size and shape of a beskar’ta, and isn’t that fitting?

  When he reaches out to take it, the white glow at its edges seems to suck in the light from around it, and it sings higher than any crystal he’s ever touched, whistling trials and heartbreak and pain and blood, but also love and laughter and family, if he lets it form the notes just right. It sings in Mando’a, in war gods and clans and beskar, and it sings for Obi-Wan alone.

-   Across the galaxy, Jango wakes on Jaster’s Legacy in a cold sweat.

Translations/Other: sai tok — the ‘saber move of cutting an opponent in half, frowned upon by the Jedi for its roots in the dark side. beskad — traditional Mandalorian curved saber made of beskar. allit — Mando’a for “clan” or “family”. buir — Mando’a for “parent”, gender neutral. beskar’ta — Mando’a for “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”. Jaster’s Legacy — Jaster’s old ship that Jango found and used post Galidraan, and pre Slave I.

[lemonlushff-iy]

I'm just her to say that I'm happy to see you back but I hope you had the time to yourself that you needed! I love your writing and your fics!

Thanks Anon!!

I really needed it, tbh. There was just a lot of stuff that built up, and it got bad. I haven't had to fight dark like this since Feb of this year, but removing myself from the community so I wouldn't spread what I was feeling was one of the best decisions I could have made.

I also started working on a throw-away fic that I’ll probably come back to whenever I need to. What I was dealing with was too much for even OLR to fix this time...

So instead, I did this:

“Picking up for Kagome Higurashi.”

He smiled at her, taking the ticket she handed him. Kagome Higurashi - goddess supreme. Long, black, wavy hair. Stunning blue eyes he wanted to get lost in. A body he didn’t think he’d ever stop worshiping if she let him. 

He had watched her from afar for years. They were both in business school, and a lot of their classes had overlapped throughout the years. 

He, of course, was on the IT track, which was why he was working here. At the university’s student help center. It paid good money for a university job. 

She was on the accounting track. Brains and beauty. 

This woman was the full package. 

Shame she had never noticed him, except for when she came to drop off her computer. 

“Virus, right?” he asked, glancing down at her ticket. Not that he didn’t already know which PC was hers. It was a little on the old side. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it, and frankly, he didn’t know how she could. It was a bitch to work with. 

“Yeah,” she replied, her brows raising in surprise. “It didn’t give you too much trouble, did it?”

“Oh...No...Not at all,” he smiled before slipping into the back. 

No. 

It hadn’t given him any issues at all. In fact...it worked perfectly. Or at least he thought it did. Tonight would be the real test. 

He grabbed the pink laptop from the back, the one covered in flowery stickers, and brought it back out to her. 

“Here she is,” he smiled proudly. “Just need you to sign for it. Let me print out the paperwork for you.”

“Perfect, thank you so much!” she beamed, and his heart skipped a beat. 

“It was my pleasure,” he cooed, his smile slipping off his face as the door opened. His half-demon co-worker walked in, and he watched as Kagome’s eyes were instantly drawn to him. The brute was a jock, and had a way with all the ladies, yet when he saw Kagome, he paused. Really paused to look at her. 

“Oh so you’re the one with the pink laptop.”

“Y-yeah. Kagome Higurashi,” she smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Do you work here too?”

“Sure do - Inuyasha Takahashi,” he grinned back, extending a hand. “I should have known that the woman coming in for it would be even cuter than the computer.”

God. How did women fall for this shit?

“Inuyasha, huh? Interesting name.”

“My parents were very creative. My friends call me Yash...but you can call me whatever you want, so long as you call me.”

He wanted to vomit. It wasn’t even subtle. They were already practically eye-fucking. It made him sick. 

Inuyasha reached behind the desk and pulled out a card, writing his number on it. 

“Feel free to reach out if your computer gives you any more trouble,” he grinned, handing it to her, and she pulled out her phone to slid it into the back of her case. 

“You’re making me wish I got viruses more often. Won’t you get in trouble for having someone contact you personally?”

“Nah. I help my friends off the clock all the time.”

“So, I’m your friend, huh? We just met.”

“Maybe. But I’d like to get to know you a whole lot better.”

She was falling for this shit. Hook line and sinker. 

God - Kagome, your taste in men...it’s appalling. Lacking, really. I mean you see a man with rippling muscles and you’re putty in his hands. You need a man with substance. A man who can understand you on a much deeper level. 

She glanced down at the perfectly pedicured toes poking out of her wedges, and back up at him, coyly biting her lip. Like she didn’t know that drove men wild. Like Inuyasha wasn’t about to pop an erection just looking at her do that. Imagining what those lips would feel like around his cock. 

Hell, she wasn’t even talking to him anymore and he was already wondering that same damn thing. 

“Sorry to interrupt.”

No. He wasn’t.

“I have your papers ready, if you could go ahead and sign?”

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, taking the pen he offered her and hastily scribbling her name onto the paper, trying her damnedest to not look back at that fucking jock. “Here you go!”

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking the paper from her. His fingers brushed against hers, but she didn’t even notice. Not when she was still acutely focused on Inuyasha. 

“Thank you. Both of you,” she replied, tucking her hair back behind her ear. It was so endearing. 

“Our pleasure.”

Ass. Like he had even worked on the computer. Inuyasha wouldn’t even be able to tell her what version of Windows she had installed. Not that he would have allowed Inuyasha to anyways. He needed him to stay as far away from it as he could get. 

“I’ll see you around,” she blushed, tucking her computer into her oversized bag before scurrying off. 

“I hate to see her go...but with an ass like that I sure do like watching her walk away…”

Cute. Real cute, Inuyasha. 

He placed his hands on the counter and hopped over it, picking up the landline phone to quickly clock in. 

“Her computer give you any issues?”

“Nope. Easy breezy.”

“Cool,” he nodded, pulling up a chair. “Kagome Higurashi, huh?” he mused, pulling out his phone. 

Already looking her up on Facebook. 

Not a good sign. 

“Hey, we got three more computers in while you were gone, if you want to get started on them.”

“Yeah - in a minute. I’ve got all night, remember,” he smiled wryly. 

He wasn’t going to deter him, was he.

“There she is,” he mumbled. “Damn. Privet account.”

Yes. Yes it was. It was a good thing he was too stupid to think about creating a fake profile and friending her that way. Like he had. 

Kagome, you sweet beautiful woman...You’re far too trusting for your own good…

“Shame.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “She was really cute. Hey...do me a favor. Next time she comes in, can you let me work on her computer?”

Oh Inuyasha...There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’m letting you do that. 

“What makes you so sure she’s gonna come back in?”

“You’re the one who fixed it,” he teased, just as his phone chimed with a text. “Oh fuck yeah!”

He could feel his heart jump into his throat. No way. There was no way she--

“--She texted me,” he grinned cockily. “It’s all coming together my friend,” he smirked, patting his shoulder blade. He had to keep himself from shrugging off the mongrel’s touch. “I’ll get started on those computers.”

He nodded and gathered his things before clocking out, watching as Inuyasha stood and slowly walked to the storage room in the back, eagerly typing away on his phone. 

One text meant nothing. 

But Kagome...Your judgment is really impaired if you think he is a good choice for you. 

***

When he got back to his apartment, he threw his backpack down on the couch and quickly warmed up a bowl of instant noodles. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now, and it was fast. 

Fast was good. Fast allowed him to turn on his computer and see if his virus was working. 

He quickly typed away, launching the necessary programs, and within moments he was silently giving himself a high five. 

He deserved a beer for this performance. Maybe more. 

There she was. Kagome Higurashi in all her glory, laying on her bed, casually browsing the internet. She had no fucking idea he was watching her too. She was too innocent to keep a little cover over her camera. Her computer was too old to tell her that someone was hacking her video. Thank god for PCs. 

It would have been so much harder with a mac. 

And Kagome...Don’t think that when you’re mine, we aren’t going to fix this little issue of yours. It will be one of the first things we do. I’ll insist upon it. We can’t have other men watching you like this, now can we?

This is a show for me and me alone, after all. 

He heard her phone chime, and she hastily picked it up, glancing down at the screen. He wanted to know what it said, but given the way she giggled and bit her lip, rolling onto her back…

It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to assume that it was Inuyasha. He watched as she placed the phone down on the bed beside her, only the top of her face truly visible. 

“This is crazy.”

Yes. Yes it is Kagome. I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and I can tell you that you’re a smarter girl than this. 

She rolled back onto her abdomen, waiting a few more minutes before picking up her phone, typing out a response. It chimed again, and she rolled off the bed, walking out of the room and taking it with her. 

Where are you going, Kagome? And without me... 

She came back a moment later with a bag of Kale chips tucked into the crook of her arm and a glass of water. He watched her place them down on the desk before doubling back for her computer, and the world around her jerked as she moved it to the desk. 

Her phone chimed again and she picked it up, blushing when she read the message, and she brought her knuckles up to her teeth, gingerly running them against her delicate pale flesh. 

Such an adorable habit. 

She didn’t respond right away - instead she opened her bag of kale chips and reached inside, plucking one as she concentrated on something on her computer screen. He wished he could see it, but he needed to pick his battles, and right now, he would rather see those beautiful blue eyes rather than know who she was talking to on facebook. 

That will come later, dear Kagome. 

She jumped a little when her phone rang, and she picked it up, hesitating a moment and taking a deep breath before answering it. 

“Hello?”

A pause, and she shyly bit the side of her lip.

He was calling her already?

“No! You’re crazy! The Office is a classic.”

Another pause. 

“Why would you say something so controversial yet brave?” she laughed.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still chewing on her lip. 

“Yes, but it paved the way for all the others!”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop smiling as she stood from the desk chair and absently began pacing her room. 

“Well of course he is - he’s my least favorite character too. I cringe when Scotts Tots comes on. I literally cannot watch it -- Yes! I mean literally as literally,” she giggled, putting her phone onto speaker as she tossed it to the bed and began rooting through her closet. 

“Well, why don’t you let me change your mind over dinner?”

He watched Kagome pause as she pulled out a pair of work out shorts and a tank top. 

“Too soon?”

Yes, Inuyasha. You can’t ask a woman out as soon as you meet her, especially Kagome. She needs to be wooed like the goddess she is! But it won’t matter, because she’s going to tell you no. Isn’t that right, Kagome. Your body language says it all. 

“No! I was just surprised.”

Kagome…

“You move fast, huh?”

And he will pressure you into things you shouldn’t be doing. It’s ok Kagome. I know you have a heart of gold, but you don’t have to take pity on him and say yes. That’s the last thing you need to do. 

“I’m not afraid to go for what I want.”

“Confidence...It’s sexy.”

“So you think I’m sexy, huh?”

“Yeah. I do. And yeah. I think I’d like that.”

No, no, no, no Kagome. Fuck! That’s the wrong answer!

“So, when are you free?”

“Depends on what you have in mind…”

“Dinner? Frozen yogurt? Some of The Office so I can show you how bad Michael is?”

“Mmm...Let’s see how dinner and the frozen yogurt goes first,” she countered, peeling her shirt over her head. It fell limply to the floor by her feet, and he watched with bated breath as she reached around her back to unsnap her bra. It joined her shirt in seconds, but he didn’t care. He was too enraptured with the sight before him.

Her breasts were beautiful. Everything he had fantasized they would look like, and more. He had thought her nipples might be a bit darker, but really...this pink suited her far better. He quickly took a screenshot, not wanting to miss a golden opportunity when it was gifted to him like this. He wanted to reach through the screen and touch them. Feel the weight of them in his palms. Rolls those nipples with his thumb. 

“I can live with that...so long as you tell me when and where to pick you up.”

“You’re so persistent!” she laughed, tugging on a drawer in her dresser to pull out a sports bra. 

“I told you - I go for what I want.”

“Ok,” she smiled. “I’ll text you details. You good with Friday?”

“Yeah. I can move some things around to make it work.”

“Liar. You don’t have any plans do you?”

Oh don’t encourage him, Kagome. And you don’t need to put that bra on either. Or that shirt. 

“Caught me - I’m free as a bird all weekend, and completely yours in whatever capacity you want me.”

She slipped her pants down her beautiful, creamy legs and kicked them off to the side. 

“You know, you’re very refreshing, Inuyasha. There are no games with you.”

“Mmmm...I always believed that games were for boys - men made it clear where they stood.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to going on a date with a man on Friday.”

“Only two short days away,” he sighed into the phone. “I don’t know what I’ll do to pass the time.”

She laughed. 

“I’m sure you will think of something…” she teased, pulling on her short out shorts and grabbing a pair of socks from her dresser. She slipped them on as she hung up with him, clutching the phone to her chest and falling backward onto the bed, squealing. 

She was silent for a moment, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she ran her hands down her face. 

“Oh my GOD!”

A few seconds later, she was on the phone again, calling someone else. 

“Sango, meet me at the gym. Right now. Treadmills. I’ll try and save you a machine. No...Sango...Please? I need you. I...I have news. I have a date on Friday.”

A brief pause. 

“I KNOW!”

Another. 

“Well, I’m not telling you shit unless you come with me to the gym. I’m already changed, so hurry it up!”

Treadmills, huh?

Looked like he was going to the gym. 

***

 That’s all she wrote, as they say...

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 28

A scratchy little voice is crooning in my ear. Major Fracture Detected. Joint Dislocation Detected. Pneumothorax Detected. Blood Loss Detected. Mild Nerve Damage Detected. T. Jacksonii Spore Residue Detected. Diagnosing…acute deceleration injury. Poisoning. Spore inhalation. Begin treatment?

There’s a little friendly dinging tone. Someone near me shifts, and then I feel a warm hand slip into mine momentarily and squeeze. For a second I’m willing to let myself believe it might be Elena, but then I run my thumb lightly over the knuckles pressing against my fingers and give that up right away. This hand is much too soft to be Elena’s.

I try to crack my eyes open but it’s far too bright for that right now. I’m having a little bit of trouble thinking straight. And a little bit of trouble breathing but for whatever reason it feels as though wherever I am right now is very far away and separated from the rest of my body. I can feel a stab of pain on the right side of my chest whenever I take a breath but at the same time it’s as though I’m observing it from such a far distance that it barely is of significance. Maybe it’s happening to someone other than myself.

Begin treatment? the voice repeats and next to me the person holding my hand sighs and says my name. I recognize their voice but not who they are.

“Are you awake?” they ask, and I try to say something but my tongue is very thick and heavy. I swallow hard; my throat hurts.

“Roan,” they say again, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m going to have to start the treatment procedure soon, okay? You really did a number on yourself falling off that cliff, and then the spores you’d been breathing in for about three days weren’t helping any.”

I try a little harder to say something but I know it doesn’t come out right.

“This might feel a little weird,” the voice says. Now I do recognize it; it’s Makado.

Begin treatment? The tiny scratchy voice says again and this time Makado shifts next to me and hits the button. There is a hiss and a whine of moving machinery and then a sharp prick in the skin above my hand. I make a little noise, try to move my hand away, but something hard has grabbed onto it and isn’t letting me go.

Sedative administered, the voice says, and then everything fades very quickly. I have just enough consciousness left, circling the drain as it is, to feel Makado’s hand slip from mine, and then I am moving, or rather I am being drawn into something, and then something comes down over my head and cradles my neck. It’s very dark and I feel as though I ought to be afraid, but before I can open my mouth to voice my fears, to scream perhaps, I flutter out entirely.

 * * *

 I can hear talking. I’m laying in a bed curled over onto my side and in the other room I can hear talking.

My head is remarkably clear. I breathe in deeply and let it gust out slowly through my nose. There is a mild ache in my ribs, nothing more.

“Yes,” Makado says, “I’ve got her. No, she didn’t give me any trouble. She’s pretty beat-up, a kitten could have knocked her out and carried her up to the surface.”

A pause. I open my eyes with an anticipatory wince but the light is cool and grey and clinical, filtering down through a sheet or curtain drawn around the bed; there is a wide-paneled fluorescent set into the ceiling but it’s switched off.

“No,” Makado says, after a pause, then repeats. “No, that won’t be necessary. Just be ready to receive us, that’s all.”

There’s an IV in my hand and the jaw of a heartrate monitor clamped around my finger. I think about it for a moment and then reach down and take it off. The machine the IV feeds into gives an interrogative chirp.

“Yes, I have the handcu - hang on, she’s awake.”

I hear the screech of a chair sliding back along a hard floor and then a door opens and someone comes in.

“Hey,” Makado says softly, and I almost feel like crying. “You okay in here? You awake?”

“Makado,” I breathe, and she pushes back the curtains and sweeps her eyes over me, then blows her breath out.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m – I’m good,” I say, taking a moment to think about it. I sit up a little more fully and yawn. My jaw cracks like a gunshot. “How long was I out for? And what are you –“

Makado laughs. She motions at my legs and I scoot over a little, let her sit down at the foot of the bed. “So, um. You were out for about a day and a half. That’s how long it’s been since you fell off the cliff.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I brought you down here,” she gestures, “put you into the autodoctor unit that they had, let it do its thing. It isn’t ideal but it uses a ton of ballast, so I figure you probably feel pretty decent, at least. When we get out of here we’ll get you to an actual doctor for a checkup.”

“Autodoctor?”

“It’s an old Anodyne thing,” she says. “DUSA has the last functioning one, they get a little use out of it. Runs off an old AD biocomputer. It was supposed to be for a military contract, put a bunch of them overseas, hard to reach places. Can do surgeries and treatments and diagnose like that,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Not a lot of flexibility, though. But plans fell through of course and the few that were left are museum pieces now. The one they’ve got here is the last working one.”

I chew on that for a moment. “DUSA?” I ask finally.

“Oh, right. This place,” she says, gesturing. “Dura Urgens Staging Area. DUSA. Some people call it Medusa. As like, a pun.”

“That doesn’t really help me understand what it is.”

Makado nods. She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair; I’m busy watching her eyes. Something about this place is important, I think; something here means something to her.

“Below us,” she says finally, “about eighty or a hundred meters down, is the largest known nerve bulbule in the Pit. There might be others someplace else, someplace deeper, someplace we haven’t explored yet, but this is the biggest one we know of. The Pit doesn’t have a brain the way you or I do. Whatever common ancestor it shared with humans, if it ever had one, was so far back that it was before the development of the central nervous system. The Pit uses a distributed nervous system instead; it has nerve bulbs all over the place and they handle reflexive and autonomous reactions for the general area that they’re in. Then, you move deeper by another five hundred meters and you find another bulb. It’s like a web, or a road network, and all of these bulbs are the cities.”

“But this one below us is the biggest.”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean it’s the main one, just that it’s…bigger. Handles more things. And DUSA – well, there’s a reason that they put it right over the big one.”

I blink at her. “Wait, is this where the - ?”

“The Contingency Plan?” she says, clearly saying the words with big important Capital Letters. “Yeah. That’s here. This is the facility for it.”

Something about the way she grins at me makes me shudder. I think back to the story Peter had told me – god, poor Peter – and his horrible descriptions of the way that the contingency had fucked their brains. I look at the woman before me, at the mottled flesh beneath her eyepatch and the hearing aids poking their heads out of her ears, at the acid burns and digestion marks lining her arms like vitiligo, and I can’t reconcile her tiny excited smile with the picture I had of her when Peter was telling me about her.

I blow out a big sigh and flop back in the hospital bed. There’s a warning twinge in my ribs and I wince; Makado picks up on it instantly. “You alright? Do you need anything?”

“No, I just – how was that thing able to fix me so fast?”

She shrugs. “Lots of ballast. The tank was still nearly full when we got here, it used a few gallons on you it looked like.”

Again I shudder. I’m trying not to think back to the horrible, terrifying crawl through the tight, sucking, fleshy tube to the ballast bulb, about the abject terror I had felt when Crookshank had crawled in there with me.

Crookshank…he’d be dead now, almost certainly. I realize that I don’t remember seeing him die, I don’t remember what happened to him. My memory of the attack down in the barrows is just streaks of gunfire sliding by my faceplate, the rhythmic, chest-squeezing thundering of the slug rifles, and the shrieks of the copepods. I wonder for a moment whether I’m going to have PTSD, whether I’ll ever be able to eat lobster again. I shake my head.

“Mak, this is fucked.”

“What is?”

“This whole – this whole thing. This is –“

“Relax,” she says, putting a hand on mine. I can feel the cool, clammy skin on the inside of her palm where the acid had burned her. It feels like something that’s been microwaved about twice as long as it needed to be and then let to cool down and I have to stop my lip from curling. “It’s not active. Not yet, anyway. Once we get that crystal back we can go about getting it carved down and –“

“I don’t think that crystal’s going to be an option any more.”

I tell her, briefly, about what happened after Erica and Marcus had ambushed us, how they had shot the Sergeant, how they had shot Elena and gotten us separated. “Do you know where she is?” I ask, realizing with a faint feeling of guilt that I hadn’t asked already.

Makado stares at me. “Who?”

I blink. “Elena. I don’t know where she is, did she – did she make it out?” The thought of Elena laying there hurting somewhere in some throbbing corridor of this place is almost too much for me to bear. Or worse, laying there dead –

I break the thought off like a plank of rotten wood. She is not dead. She can’t be.

I almost missed the calculating look that had flashed across Makado’s eye, and I realize I’ve grabbed onto her arm rather tightly. I let go but even so I can’t stop myself from biting my lip out of sheer worry. “She’s fine,” Makado says finally.

“She is?”

“Yeah. She came stumbling into Control a few days ago, they got her up to the surface, far as I know she’s still in the infirmary. That’s how I knew to come down and get you, she told us what was going on.”

“Oh thank god,” I blurt. I hug my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. She’s okay, I tell myself. I can feel the tears coming but at least this time they’re out of relief. After a moment I hear Makado sigh again and then she shifts closer to me and puts her arm around me.

“You must really like her,” Makado ventures after a moment. I laugh but it comes out as more of a sniff.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “Yeah, I think I – I do, yeah.”

For a short while it feels as though Makado doesn’t know what to say. Then finally she shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she tells me.

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” she says. “I never thought that all of this would happen, it was going to be just routine,” she says, massaging her temples. “The copepods, they never would have done anything if it wasn’t for the damn Leechman, they never would have attacked, nobody would have had to die…”

“It isn’t something you could have predicted,” I say gently. Makado continues on as though I hadn’t spoken.

“And then Erica, goddam Erica, Christ…”

“She was doing what she thought was the right thing,” I say. “I don’t think she meant for things to go the way they did.”

“That doesn’t really make it any better,” she groans. I think about Peter again and wish fervently that he were here. I lean back and navigate my arm around so that now I’m the one holding Makado.

“I’m sorry about Peter,” I tell her.

Makado is utterly silent. She’s looking away from me, over into the other room. I can see the muscles at the base of her jaw working as she grinds her teeth. For a moment, just a moment, I get a feeling of foreboding. She seems horribly angular and purposeful and mean all of a sudden, sitting there at the foot of the bed like an axe about to fall on me. I start to say something else but she looks over at me and nods. Her eyes are very hard.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. It sounded like a rotten way to die.” I look over at Makado, look at her carefully. She glances over at me after a moment. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say finally. I swing off of the bed, get up and stretch. “I feel good,” I observe.

“Yeah,” Makado says, rising to her feet as well. “With that much ballast in your system you’ll probably be riding pretty high for a couple of days at least. Now, be careful though, because –“

“What are we going to do about the FBI?” I ask her. I undo the hospital gown and let it fall, gaze down at myself. There’s a ragged weal of a scar along my ribs on the right side but it already looks long-healed. I put my weight down on my other foot and nearly stumble. Makado gets up and rushes to me but I caught myself on the railing around the cot.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, my leg, it –“

“I was going to tell you,” she says. “The autodoc wasn’t able to set it properly. You’d fallen on a calcium deposit and your tibia and fibula broke. It cleaned out the fragments of bone but there wasn’t enough left to just set it and let it heal, so it put in a synthetic replacement, used ballast to meld your skin and muscle around it, but that leg is going to be weak for a long time.”

I sit back on the bed, reach down and feel the leg. It doesn’t feel much different but whatever caused the weakness is still lurking inside there, maybe a muscle not connected properly, maybe something else. I can feel a dull, bone-deep throb of pain, steady and regular and hard-edged, just waiting to boil up to the surface the second I put a foot wrong. I shake my head.

“I’m going to need like, a boot or something. If we have to climb out of here –“

“We’ll figure it out, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you before you, you know, figured that you were totally fine.”

“What about this?” I ask, turning to her, pointing to the scar across my ribcage. “I know that wasn’t there.”

“Just repair work on a rib, I think. I read the summary it spat out after it was done but I’m pretty sure it didn’t reinflate your lung by going through your rib cage.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur, craning my neck and squinting down at it.

“Are you breathing alright?”

With only a little trepidation I take a deep breath and hold it, then let it blow out long and slow. There’s a little pain when I hold it, in the right lung only, and then as I’m nearing the tail end of the breath it rattles somewhere deep down, but I shake my head. “A little rough but it’s okay.”

“You need to know that you’re still a little, you know, doped up. Ballast would have kept most of the pain down and kept your head pretty clear but that’s going to come back with a vengeance if you overdo it.”

I nod. “Alright, I get it. Take it easy for probably the next year or so.”

“There’s an extra jumpsuit over on that chair.”

And so I get dressed, and eat a nutrient bar and Makado shows me around DUSA. I have to hang on to her every now and then when my leg threatens to buckle beneath me but she bears it without complaint and lets me hobble around with my arm around her shoulder like we’re old friends.

DUSA looks just like all of the other ranger stations I’ve been in so far, if maybe a little cleaner. She shows me the door to the room that has the big scary capital-letter Contingency Plan inside of it, but even though I ask she won’t let me in to see it.

Outside the inch-thick windows the Pit’s flesh is squeezed tight against the walls. A few small stents hold it back here and there to let a metal gantry and corridor file through and out into a vent but otherwise it’s like this place was just cut open and the small lozenge shape of DUSA was slipped in and then the Pit grew back around it. Unlike some of the other ranger stations this one is tall rather than wide, maybe four or five floors of various facilities. There’s a dormitory, a kitchen and eating area, the small infirmary with the autodoctor, now revealed as a squat, many-legged machine a little like an MRI machine and a metal octopus had a baby, and on the fourth floor room after room of workstations with dark screens and dusty keyboards. Servers lie dark and dormant, tucked against the walls and tied down with cloth straps.

We end up sitting on the roof of the place, after Makado opens the hatch and lets a ladder telescope down from the recessed sheath it was hiding in. She helps me up it methodically and then we’re there, the fleshy wall of the ceiling barely a dozen feet above our heads. It gives me a sense of disorientation somehow, like I’ve just crawled upside down from the bottom of DUSA and am now standing with my feet glued to the ceiling, staring down at the floor. I blink hard and it passes.

Makado leans out over the railing and groans. “Everything’s fucked,” she growls. “This whole place ought to be full of people, getting things ready for when that crystal gets here. Instead it’s just me and – and you.” She’d gotten more and more pessimistic the further into our little tour we’d gone. I reach over and put my arm around her. She stiffens when I touch her and then seems to relax. I feel rather comradely, I feel like laughing. I guess I had convinced myself that I was going to die and now that I’ve received an unexpected reprieve I can’t hardly believe it.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. “What’s going on with the FBI?”

“Admin’s stalling them, but they’ll come back with a writ or a warrant or something and when they get their hands on our files there’ll be some shit. Right now they’re fighting with the DoI guys over jurisdiction, I think.”

“DoI?”

“Department of the Interior,” she says, waving her hand. “Normally that’d be who would handle this type of thing, they’re in charge of National Parks, but the FBI want in because this isn’t a park any more, I think technically it’s a preserve or something and that’s different…somehow. Not sure on that one.”

I nod. I start to say something else but Makado heaves a huge sigh, glances sidelong at me. “There might be some trouble but I think we’ll be able to get you out of it,” she tells me, and I laugh.

“I’m more worried about you. Klaus said they were gunning for you, that you were going to go down hard.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’ll have to see,” she says. “Especially if he’s dead, it might be a little more difficult for that to happen.”

I get a little wrench in my stomach as she says it but I swallow hard and let it pass. I did what I had to and if I hadn’t I would be dead.

I wonder for how long after this I’m going to be seeing that grin and that knife in my dreams.

“So he was a mole, then?” I ask. “That’s basically what he was saying.”

“I don’t think so,” she says. “He’s been here for a long time, Klaus has. I don’t think he ever was, you know, an undercover FBI agent or anything, I think he was just their guy on the inside. An informant. I read his personnel file, he’s an ex-con. It makes sense that there was someone giving them information but…” she trails off. “It’s hard to say,” she finishes. “It’s too bad, though. Too bad we didn’t get that crystal. We could have done a lot of good with it. If they just hadn’t shattered the first one…”

We sit there on the roof of DUSA for a long while, until Makado finally groans and gets to her feet. I glance up at her and then take the offered hand, let her pull me up. “What happens now?” I ask.

“Now?” she laughs. “Now we get out of here.”

 * * *

 Getting out is easier than getting in. Makado gets me into a ranger suit and we march off into the wet, tumescent depths of the Pit. Except, as Makado explains to me, we aren’t nearly as deep as I think. DUSA is far higher depth-wise than the dense fungal hell I thought I was going to die in. When I asked her how I had gotten here, then, she explained, as though it were simple, that she had just taken an IAV.

Peter had mentioned them briefly, the acronym standing for something like ‘Internal Anatomy Vehicle’ or similar. I’d even seen some, parked down below in the meager garage at the control center, what feels like ages ago, lurking like snub-nosed, aerodynamic lozenges, there in the dark. But here is one of them, its big chunky wheels soaked in gore, its prow stained red from apparent hours pushing panicked through venterial folds, rushing to DUSA with me in the passenger seat, strapped in as tightly as Makado had dared.

“It was tight,” she tells me. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. I went as fast as I possibly could but it was still a near thing.”

“It was those fucking lizards down there,” I mutter. “I touched one, they’re covered in some kind of – poisonous goop, I don’t know what –“

“Yeah. The autodoc scrubbed your system and breathing clean air for long enough got the spores out as well, but you’re just riding on the ballast right now,” she reminds me, pressing a combination on a keypad near the low-slung waist of the vehicle and then stepping back to let the hatch open. It smells like oil and disinfectant but I clamber in eagerly. The interior is space-age, or at least it would have been in the 90s or so. The interior lights are all in red for some reason; when I ask Makado about it she explains it’s to help maintain low-light vision while still letting you see. When she grins at me her teeth reflect back cherry-stained and I have to shake my head to keep from thinking of it as blood. She looks carnivorous, hungry, frightening.

The ride is bumpy but uneventful. Once Makado flattens something that looks like an overgrown louse the size of a small pig. It shrieks as the wheels crunch over it. I glance over at her and she shrugs. “We’re in a hurry,” she explains.

After that we lapse into a comfortable silence that grows slowly more frosty the closer we get to the Control Center. I can see it approaching on the three-dimensional map readout on the dashboard, a blinking line of waypoints leading us back to the garage. Makado’s answers become shorter and shorter and eventually I just stop trying to make conversation at all. She’s just tired, I tell myself.

After we park Makado helps me out of the IAV and guides me up a set of stairs and into the Center. My leg twinges a little whenever I really put weight on it but if I limp it isn’t nearly as bad. The stairs are rough though, and I have to cling on to her and take them one step at a time just to get up them.

Over the last hour of driving or so I developed a little bit of a headache but when I mentioned it to Makado she nodded and explained it was probably just the ballast starting to wear off. It’d keep me going for a while longer but I’d need to rest and let my body heal. I had grinned. “Fine with me,” I told her, and she offered me a faint smile and then turned her attention back to the wet, bloody folds ahead of us, nudging the nose of the IAV through one muscular ribbed sphincter at a time.

The stairs take us to sort of a tool room or machine shop, and then we pass out into a hallway and then up some stairs that I recognize. Beyond the next inch-thick submarine-style door is the control room, still as messy as a few days ago, with two or three of the geeks present before still in residence. They look up when Makado enters but make no comment other than a perfunctory greeting or two; clearly we’re expected. Then I step into the room and catch nothing but eyeballs.

One of the nerds frowns. “Wait,” he asks Makado, staring at me, “is that…?”

I start to answer but Makado nods, shuffling me along with her hand in the small of my back. “Yes, it is,” she assures him, but the look he gives me after she does so is more than a little confusing. I glance at Makado but before I can say anything there is a burst of pain in my leg that forces a groan from my lips and makes me stumble. Makado catches me before I fall and then I’m good again. My leg feels like it’s made of glass, or rather that it’s two glass blocks stacked on top of each other, and if I’m not extremely careful about how and where I put my weight they slide apart and the most excruciating -

“You okay?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Once I’m out of here I will be.”

“They already called the elevator down,” she tells me. “I radioed ahead for us. Twenty minutes and you’re through.”

“And I can see Elena?” I ask. I feel a little like a baby saying it but it just tumbled out when I opened my mouth to say something a little less pathetic like ‘thank goodness’ or similar. Makado stiffens next to me fractionally, and I frown. “Are you –“

“Yes, you can see Elena.”

We hobble out of the control room and down the corridor to the gondolas. I don’t even know how to feel; I don’t even know what time it is, whether or not it’ll be light out. Something about the way Makado took too long to answer has me worried, though, and I glance over at the woman as we make our halting way towards the waiting gondola car.

Her jaw is clenched tight and though I can’t see her one good eye from the side I’m on, I can see her brow is downcast and furrowed. I lick my lips and try to quell the sudden stab of fear that’s gone through me. “Mak, is Elena…is she okay?”

Makado opens the door to the gondola and helps me inside. “She’s fine,” she tells me. “Just try to rest. Sit down on the floor if you need to.”

As soon as she says it, as if on cue, a wave of exhaustion passes through me and it’s all I can do to keep myself standing. Makado shuts the door and fiddles with the controls for a moment and then with a sickening lurch we’re moving upwards, and with the motion it’s as though all the tension exits my body. Even the twinging in my calf doesn’t seem quite as bad now that we’re moving. I look at Makado and she offers me a tight smile. “See?” she says. “We’ll get you out of here soon.”

“And Elena’s alright?”

Makado doesn’t meet my eyes. “She’s fine,” she tells me again, but the way she says it just makes me worry more.

“Do you promise?” I ask her. She looks up from her wrist computer.

“Hmm?”

“Do you promise,” I say slowly, “that Elena’s alright?”

Makado stares at me and I see something dark and unnameable shifting behind her one remaining eye. After what feels like entirely too long she nods. “Say it,” I prompt her. “Please.” I know it’s irrational and stupid but the way she’s acting is like she’s hiding something from me, it’s like she’s –

“Roan, calm down,” she says. Her voice is smooth and serene. “Elena’s fine.”

“Promise me she is,” I whisper.

Makado takes what feels like a moment longer to respond than she should. “Okay,” she says finally. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I say. I try to will myself back to the relaxed, relieved state I’d been in as soon as the gondola had started moving, but I can’t find it. Makado’s put enough worry into me that I feel like a spiky ball of it, hard-edged and serrated. I eventually do take her advice and sit on the floor and rest a while.

I try to make conversation with her but the answers she gives me are flat and eventually we both let it peter out. I assume she’s nervous about the FBI and the investigation I’m sure she’ll go through. I already told her on the way up that I didn’t mind hanging around and giving a statement or whatever else they need exactly, but it barely seemed to make an impact on her. Maybe it’s Peter, and if it is, I don’t know what to say to her that could possibly make it better.

But I go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth anyway. “Mak,” I say, breaking the – well, not silence exactly, for the grinding and swaying of the gondola is far from quiet, but my words still seem overly loud inside the car, “are you okay?”

She blows a breath out and looks at me. She starts to say something, then stops. “I’m sorry,” she ends up telling me, and I frown.

“What for?” I ask. “I know it didn’t – it didn’t go how it was supposed to but none of it was your fault, you couldn’t have predicted –“

“No,” she says. Her voice has a catch to it as though she might start crying. “It isn’t that. It’s – look, can I show you something?”

“Sure.” I’ve got no clue where she’s going with this. Outside the window I can see the first hint of real sunlight that I’ve glimpsed in probably about four or five days, pouring down into the Pit like an orange cascade. It’s far-off and dim but it’s real. Looks to be somewhere around the middle of the day or so. Makado reaches down for me and with her help I manage to clamber to my feet. I’m still a little unsteady on the right leg but I think it’s getting better. I think I just needed to rest it for a while. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you,” she says. “Turn around real quick.”

“What are you –“

“Just do it,” she nods. Her eyes flick over to the window then back to me. “You’ll miss it.”

So of course I turn, not thinking anything of it. I hear her shift and then come and stand just behind me. There’s a clink of metal, a small subtle sound. I don’t see anything out the window.

I start to glance back at her and then she grabs my wrist and tugs it backwards and snaps half of a pair of handcuffs around it. “What!” I blurt, jerking away from her before she can grab my other hand. Her face is tight and calculating.

“Give me your fucking hand,” she snarls.

“Makado, what the fuck –“

She punches me. I see it coming but I don’t react in time. Her fist slams into my gut and the breath whooshes out of me in one go, folds me over like a pressed shirt. I reach for her and try to slap her back but she grabs my hand and then she’s got me by the wrist – her grip is like iron. I bring my leg up and knee her in the hip and she grunts, but then she draws her leg back and kicks me in my newly repaired calf and the explosion of pain is so intense that I scream. I draw my leg back and falter and then fall to the floor, landing heavily on my elbow, and then Makado grabs me and heaves me over onto my stomach, jarring my leg again and forcing another scream from between my teeth as she cuffs the other wrist.

“What the fuck!” I yell, as soon as I’ve caught my breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says, breathing heavily, smoothing off the front of her suit. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“You fucking bitch!” I shriek. “You fucking bitch, get me out of these fucking cuffs!”

“It wasn’t anything personal,” she says, sounding more like she’s trying to convince herself than she is trying to convince me.

“You bitch!” I say again. I apparently become rather uninventive when I get stabbed in the back. Makado growls, a low wordless snarl, and then rolls me over onto my back. The cuffs cut into my wrists, sandwiched between myself and the floor, and I cry out.

“Shut the fuck up,” she tells me. Her voice is icy calm and that scares me more than anything else she could have said. “I have to give someone to the FBI. I have to let someone take the fall.”

I open my mouth to say something and she puts her booted foot over my throat and presses down gently. I can feel the blunt cleats on the bottom dig into my neck. I try to wriggle away but she just puts a little more of her weight onto it and then I can’t breathe and so I stop, staring at her desperately, hoping she has the sense not to choke me.

“There is too much at stake right now,” she says, “for me to go down for something as fucking stupid as human trafficking. Especially when my contribution was just looking the other way. So you’re going to go down for me. That’s all. There’s still a chance I can get that crystal back but I won’t be able to if I’m rotting in a federal prison somewhere.”

She takes her foot off my throat and I heave the air in while I still can. “Tell me,” I wheeze. Makado looks down at me. “Tell me you weren’t lying about Elena. Tell me she’s okay.”

Makado is silent for a long while. “I lied,” she says finally, in a small voice. “I knew you wouldn’t come with me if you thought she was still in the Pit. I don’t know where she is or if she’s alive. The tracker in her suit is dead and nobody’s heard from her in three days.”

The gondola grinds to a halt and the doors hiss open, and sunlight and fresh air pour in. I hardly notice. Makado steps over me and walks out while I lay there, my hands cuffed behind my back, bawling my eyes out, and then three men with badges and pistols come in and pick me up and carry me off somewhere. I don’t notice where, I don’t see it. All I can see, my eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears from leaking out, is Elena, poor Elena, trapped somewhere at the bottom of the Pit and calling out my name, not knowing I’ll never come.

Continue with Part 29

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[jokerownsmysoul]

one year.

Today is exactly a year since I first saw Joker.

What inspired me to see it, at first, was just the respect and admiration I felt for Joaquin, an actor I already knew and who had totally captured me when I saw Her a few years ago. I was curious to see his interpretation of Joker but I had not seen the trailer nor dedicated to the movie any special attention.

Then, late in October, I came across a promotional photo of Arthur, and something snapped in my heart the second my eyes met his. There was something settled in his expression full of pain, in his silent attempt to ask for help, in his sad but sparkling eyes, in his delicate beauty, that spoke to me. I felt the urgency to see the trailer: I had to meet that man. I had to know Arthur. From there I felt a connection with him that caught me by surprise.

That day, after watching the trailer, Arthur had already decided that he was going to be part of my life in a way I never thought possible. He opened the door to my heart and whispered, "I leave the door ajar for when I come in." And he did, because something about him had already captured me. I watched the trailer over and over, counted the days before I met Arthur, and I waited for him to come. For the first time I wanted to watch Joker not for Joaquin, but for Arthur.

I went to the movie theater thinking I was gonna enjoy a nice night and a beautiful movie with a intriguing character, but then I saw Arthur. I saw him sitting in front of the vanity at Haha's, on the sidelines, forcing a painful smile with his fingers and trying to hold back and fight tears distilled in a blue color, and in that specific moment the sense of belonging that I felt when I saw him in the trailer got bigger and bigger, the door that Arthur had left ajar I could feel slowly and at the same time quickly being opened inside me, and Arthur was already important to me.

At the end of the movie I was totally, completely absorbed by Arthur, who in the meantime had wide opened the door of my heart to inhabit it. I never thought those two hours would mean to me more than I ever imagined, and I knew that something special had just come into my life. I never thought after a year I'd still be here, even more in love than before, remembering the memories Joker gave me throughout the year, remembering how many times he helped me and all of us in this rough period we are living in.

Arthur is a fictional character, and yet my love for him is one of the strongest things I’ve ever felt in my life. I needed this love, it’s what a part of me always longed for my whole life, but I never thought that the person to give me this love would be him, Arthur, and I didn’t know that until he came to me. It took me a while to embrace the feeling I felt for him, going beyond all the people who told me it was wrong, that it wasn’t right, even if I never believe them. I found out this community who helped me to realize better that love is never wrong. Ever. Falling for him came naturally to me, he's the easiest person to love.

Arthur made me rediscover a part of myself that I thought I’d lost forever and I didn’t know I missed her so much. He gave me some of the deepest friendships I have, the adrenaline and the clumsy fear of a love that you don’t know yet but from which you feel drawn as if it were a siren's call. He gave me cries, smiles and emotions that I haven’t felt in a long time. He gave me poetry, he gave me daydreams and old fashioned music. He made me discover parts of myself that I did not know yet and he made me know better those parts of myself that I had never listened as I should have. Arthur is teaching me to love and be the best version of myself.

Arthur gave me my writing back. I've been writing for my whole life, but with him my writing started breathing better again. For the first time in ten years, since the last time I've written fan fiction, I felt the urgency to start doing it again for him. I felt the irrepressible desire to give Arthur the life he deserved through ink and live this love deeper. It took a few months before I was brave enough to post my writings publicly, truth be told I regret not having created this blog before, but I’m glad I eventually managed to overcome my insecurities. Making this blog is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

There are not enough words to describe the life I’m experiencing with this blog. I have never taken part in a fandom, it was a whole new world for me, and I am happy that I'm experiencing it for the first time with the best fandom I could ever find. Joker fandom has the sweetest, most inclusive, empathic, generous and kindest people I know. We took an ironic and mocking expression invented by Randall, Chuckletown, took the best from it, and created something as wonderful as our Chuckletown, and every day you show me that being part of Chuckletown is an honor.

I will always be grateful to Arthur for bringing into my life such a rare love that enters the lives of a few people that I didn't know existed, a love so intense that I never thought it would come to my life. For making me meet some of the most important people who fill my days, for giving me wonderful friendships and emotions whose words to be described have not yet been created.

Even if oceans keep us apart, even though we are distant and spread around the world, this has never stopped me from considering you my dear friends. You understand me and show me your affection every day, and I hope I can give you at least half of the affection you show me. I hope I can give that to Arthur, too, somehow.

To you and Arthur, thank you and I love you. 💚💙❤���💛

[demonprosecutor]

WHEN YOU HYPERFIXATE ON HADES

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

“you really don’t need to be here for it.” night had fallen and darkness shrouded the overt violence that had occurred that day, the stars trembling and looking away at the savagery of death inflicted so callously. zagreus holds a torch, the flames casting a ghoulish glow over both your features and illuminating the bodies piled on pieces of kindling - a burial pyre.

are their mothers grieving, waiting for them? are their fathers sharpening their spears for vengeance? are their wives and children left without a piece of their family?

such a carelessness in burial, in ritual makes you shudder, guilt curdling your stomach so viciously that you near expel the contents of your stomach. zagreus, of course, did not understand the rituals of man, did not understand what needed to be done in order for them to cross the river Styx by the boatsman Charon and to find home in the underworld.

yet, he does not complain when you press a golden drachma into their calloused palms, scared and roughened by combat. only to be slain by someone whom they believed would aid them.

lord zeus and lady hestia would cast curses upon you...

you scatter dirt on their forms, cinching your pouch of coins tightly and taking a step back. “ok, i’m ready.”

zagreus offers you a sidelong look, lingering in slightly concern. even he could tell that you were not made for combat, not made for war like he was. you could only watch as he tosses the torch onto their bodies, erupting into flames and sparks floating to join the stars above before being kidnapped by the telltale breeze.

the prince does not say anything much as you offer prayers towards their safe journey and for forgiveness for the both of them, desecrating the sanctity of home. you pour libations onto the ground, a blessing and offering to the Chthonic gods. 

the words come easy, come familiar. After all, you were the one to hold funerals for your town that all perished, the temple’s priestess murdered at the steps of her patron’s temple. Blood had run that day like the ocean that lapped at the shore.

you fall silent, crossing your arms tightly, jumping when zagreus places a hand gently on the curve of a shoulder - thumb rubbing exposed skin sweetly. “are you ok? this was... i’m sorry, i didn’t--- they were going to hurt us, hurt you. and i... couldn’t let that happen.”

and the tight ball of pain eased into something warm, the tightness of your shoulders loosening. because in the short time you’ve known him, there’s a steadfast loyalty in him that settles the fear in your heart.

a sigh brushes your lips, staring at the pyre until spots danced before your gaze. “i know. i appreciate that.” your words is weary, bone-tired, something that you haven’t felt in a long time. you were never exactly the most verbose of individuals, especially concerning words that betrayed your true inner self. you were always so used to hiding behind a mask crafted from necessity. 

he squeezes your shoulder lightly, heat lingering when his hand falls away.

you think your eyes are tricking you, but as the flames begin to die down, blackened ash settling as smears upon verdant ground, something ghostly rises from mound. eight shades that stand, corporeal forms shuddering, turning to consider them carefully. 

it makes you take a step back, hackles lifting in alarm at the sight of something so unnatural. after all, one does not see shades unless they were close to death themselves. 

“he should be here soon.” zagreus mutters to himself softly, features drawn in faint anguish that it makes you want to reach out - but in your infinite cowardice, you hold back.

he does not take long to arrive, the air ringing with the ominous clang of something stricking metal and before you, in a flash of blue comes a being so ethereal, so awe-striking, you cannot help, but stare. reaper cloth drapes his form, golden pauldron curling from his right shoulder and right arm encased in a clawed gauntlet. his eyes were of melted gold, hair and lashes as white as the virgin snow and skin the colour of pallid, dead flesh.

yet something about him was familiar, in the moroseness that surrounded him, in the grief that seemed to linger at his feet.

the thought strikes you at the same time zagreus breathes out, “Thanatos”

impassively, death incarnate’s gaze sweeps over you as though you were nothing more than a bug before settling on zagreus. the corner of his mouth curled downward. “zagreus, you made it.” even if the words were monotone, it was enough to make the prince wince slightly. “you do realize that you are setting things into motion that you do not understand. i hope you’re happy.”

zagreus frowns, gaze firmly pinned on the god, “you know why i had to come up here. my mother is here and there’s just... so many things i don’t understand yet, so many pieces missing. are you really going to begrudge me for wanting to know myself more?”

the words were harsh, yet you can sense a history between the two of them. something deeper than association of godhood. while you couldn’t boast much, you are someone who knows the character of individuals fairly well, and you can tell - there was a fondness between the both of them. 

lord thanatos scoffs loudly, “know yourself? don’t make me laugh, zagreus. you had everything down there and you gave it all up for this?” he sweeps his hand in a wide gesture at the empty fields, crickets chirping their melody sweetly. “there’s nothing here. nothing of worth, anyways.” 

you couldn’t help, but feel as though it was a sort of back-handed comment to you. careful to keep your gaze pinned firmly on the ground.

“stop it. stop it. what are you doing here? if father sent you to get me back, i won’t. not without a fight.” even if his words are brave, there’s a weary tone that underlaid it, and you know that if anything, he wanted to avoid fighting the other god as much as possible.

“would you believe me if i said that i was going to harvest these souls?” he swipes his scythe lightning-quick through the eight shades, their forms flickering before wisping away. zagreus tosses him an unimpressed look, brow arched and arms crossed over his chest. “fine. that and i wanted to see y--- where you were. what the place was like.” lord thanatos looks around curiously, nothing sparking in his gaze that indicated that he truly cared about lady persephone’s fields.

(although you are indignant on the goddess’s behalf, her lands were the most beautiful of them all)

you feel the prick of metal claws underneath your chin, tipping your head back to meet the golden eyes of lord thanatos, brow arched as though to say: are you a part of the reason he wants to stay? “and who’s this?”

“Than.” you hear zagreus say in warning, light threat that lingers in his voice.

Lord Thanatos laughs slightly, “relax, zag. i won’t do anything to hurt your little mortal toy. now tell me, who are you?”

there’s a defiant part of you that wanted to seal your lips and stare back, but such impunity was something that was not welcome by any deity and if you wanted to keep your head - you would answer.

“I-- I am the servant to lady persephone. i have been here for a while...” you feel your hands shake, palms start sweating, and for some reason, you cannot look away from Lord Thanatos’ eyes, so magnetic, so hypnotic, it’s as though you were falling. until the illusion was shattered with the way death incarnate pulled back, claws tickling the underside of your chin almost-playfully, satisfied with the truth in your words. 

nonetheless, you feel like a pet. your cheeks burn as you stumble forward, sure-footed legs wobbling enough that zagreus reaches forward to curl an arm around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “what did you do?!” even if there was fondness between the both of them, zagreus looked ready to punch lord thanatos.

he quirks a slight smile, teasing and playful. “i didn’t hurt them, i just want to see the truth in their words. and they were telling the truth.”

you manage to find your bearings, brows furrowed and with minimal struggle (zagreus had tightened his grip, thinking you were going to collapse), managed to extract yourself from the prince’s embrace. “i don’t make it a habit to lie.” you valued honesty and in the short life that you have ever known, you do not ever recall a time you ever lied to anyone.

“all mortals do. eventually.” the words were dismissive and it seemed that your interaction with the god was over, considering the way he turned his floating body to face zagreus. “i came to tell you this. what you are doing, what you have done... it roused something.” something unsettled crosses death incarnate’s features. “unnatural things are happening. mortals that should be dead still walk among these lands, monsters cease to die---” he shakes his head, hair whispering against his hood. 

“what do you mean?” zagreus, at this, straightens, worry evident. “things aren’t dying?”

that makes something in you chill, half-remembered rumours of travelers that wander through these lands. but ... those were just rumours, right? 

Lord thanatos shrugs, “whatever it is, it’s no longer your concern ever since you left.” it’s cruel what he says, enough that it seems to wound zagreus. but nothing more was said. in a flash of light, radiant wings arching before lord thanatos disappears, leaving you both with the smoldering ashes of the pyre.

it seemed that zagreus was too shocked to do anything much, staring off into space thoughtfully. you sigh, pouring a bucket of dirt over the remaining embers and stifling them with a soft hiss.

you watch the prince, swathed in ember, eyes that reflected both of his parentage, stand there - looking more alone than ever. “was... were you and Lord Thanatos close?”

zagreus blinks, startled by your voice, turning his head to take in your form - clutching the bucket at your hip and knees smeared with grey. “I--- we--- we are. were. I don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, “it’s just... ever since i left, i think i hurt him.” there’s true regret in his tone, rocking back on his feet before flopping to the ground and staring at the night sky.

he misses them, you realize with clarity.

quietly, you set the bucket to the side, and gingerly lower yourself to lay on your back next to him. “i think you did too.” you say quietly, honestly as ever. you try to be gentle, but still, you see him wince.

“ouch.” he crosses his arms and turns his head, so that you couldn’t see his face. “i didn’t mean to hurt him.” a whisper.

you don’t respond for a few seconds before sighing slightly, “sometimes, we hurt the people we love whenever there is a desire for change. we never really mean to, but it happens. maybe you should apologize to him.” zagreus looks over at you, opening his mouth to argue. “not because you wanted to leave the underworld, but because you hurt him by leaving.”

the prince stares at you, shifting his gaze to the stars. “i guess, it’s a complicated situation.

“that’s life.” you laugh, pushing yourself up so that you were sitting. “complications.” you make the move to stand; however, the hand around your forearm stops you. zagreus  props himself up on an elbow, brows drawn together in pleading.

“stay with me for a while?”

oh. oh. how could you ever deny your prince anything?

you smile at him, barest hint of teeth before laying back down - “of course.” and you both laid there, staring up at the stars until... until the darkness fell over you, until hypnos cast his spell over you.

---

when you rouse at the rooster’s crow, you smell the scent of morning dew tickling your nose and groan internally. great, this is inviting sickness... yet the chill you had anticipated from sleeping outside never sunk into your bones. you felt warm, unnaturally so.

you open your eyes, squinting at at the sun peeking above the trees, on your back - before looking down at the source of the warmth.

suddenly, your whole body seems to go through a flash of heat, blushing so intensely that you wondered if you were going to burst into flames. 

it seemed that prince zagreus, the scourge of wretches and a personal pain in his father’s backside, was... cuddling you. he had thrown a possessive arm over your waist, basically molding his body against yours and staving off the chill of the night and the morning. oh gods, i never thought that your whole body can blush, but here i am.

you try to wiggle free, but zagreus huffs unhappily, plastering himself firmer against your side and grumbles against your shoulder. that was it - you were doomed to be a god-prince’s cuddle pillow for eternity. 

(a punishment you didn’t seem to mind)

at this point in time, you would be already waking up to feed the animals or to prepare breakfast, but being trapped so thoroughly meant that escape was nigh impossible.

resigned to your fate, you offer a few grumbles before settling back down to sleep some more. it was a hard day yesterday, you figured that you deserved some semblance of rest.

it must be some time later, you roused once more. trapped in the nebulous space between awake and asleep. you murmur sleepily, turning your head slightly and you see... zagreus above you, studying you carefully, face soft and fond and open - in the way that the land could only bring out. he brushes his hand on your forehead, sweeping hair away from your face carefully.

a dream, perhaps?

you wake up again, this time tucked carefully in your bed, blanket pulled to your chin and tucked tightly enough to feel as though you were a baby being swaddled once more. how did you... oh. 

“he carried me up here and tucked me in...” you managed to worm a hand out to smack your face in embarrassment before allowing the limb to drop back onto the bed listlessly. you were feeling lazy and content enough to want to lounge in bed.

well, that is until you smelled something burning.

“what the---” you scramble out of bed, legs tangled in the blankets, and tripping over them and rushed down the hall and into the kitchen where zagreus was frantically attempting to kill the flames from the fireplace where he was attempting to cook food.

fear ran through your mind and you grabbed the pitcher, tossing water over the cauldron AND zagreus in turn.

the flames flickered down into a sad death, the pitcher held in a death-grip, as you looked over to zagreus who... looked like a sad, wet puppy.

you couldn’t help yourself, you promptly burst into loud laughter, setting the pitcher to the side so that you could lean on the table, snorting and cackling hard enough to bring tears in your eyes. soon enough, zagreus follows suit, placing the pan to the side. “what are you doing?” you manage through wheezes.

zagreus snorts, smiling hard enough that his cheeks hurt, “i was trying to make you breakfast, but as you can probably tell, i failed miserably.” 

“ok, first of all, too much kindling. the fire got out of control.” you compose yourself, smiling all the while, walking over to the fireplace, poking at the wet kindling. “how about we get some more kindling and i could teach you how to cook.”

“but i wanted to cook you something.” you can hear the pout in his voice, as you both retreat to the back to dump the wet wood and grab new pieces to replace it. “just as a thank you, you know.”

oh. the smile turns a bit shy and you can feel yourself softening, “well, you can’t cook me anything if you don’t know how to. how about i teach you first and then you can cook me something. tomorrow’s breakfast is on you, deal?” you hold out your hand and zagreus takes it without hesitation, the joy reaching his eyes.

“deal.”