#I think it’s like.. not bad but the elements he was looking for weren’t fully there

[habken]

Dawgs I got like.. the worst mark I’ve ever gotten on an animation assignment lol. I didn’t think it was great work but I thought it was better than the mark I got that’s a bummer :’)

[k-hotchoisan]

Hear me out... yeosang greek mythology-esque AU where every few decades a maiden is sent as a sacrifice to the one they believe is the god of love and fertility. A very confused deity yeosang usually just rolls with it and puts these young ladies to sleep for a night ot two before returning them to their people (cuz that one time he just sent someone back the entire village panicked and blamed her for not being a "good enough offering" and he felt bad for a century). But this time... for some reason... he just can't take his eyes off the sleeping girl before him (there can be backstory here like he's met her before while parading as a mortal or sumin idk) and decides... maybe this time he'll keep her...

alrighty aphrodite

<yeosang x fem!reader>

every eleven years, a young maiden is chosen as sacrifice for the god of love and fertility, at least they think they do, only for Yeosang to put the sacrificed maiden to sleep because he doesn't want to deal with them.

but when it’s you being chosen to be the next maiden, Yeosang decides, maybe this time, he’s gonna keep you for himself instead.

Genre/warnings: smut with plot, (kinda) Greek god au deity yeosang x maiden!reader, mentioned elements of sacrifice (though not too heavy nor gory), unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, masturbation (m), obsessive softdom! Yeosang, he’s actually fucking whipped for you, praise kink, mentions of virginity (where reader is NOT but it’s not elaborated further), yearning!yeosang

wc: 6k

a/n: I’m sorry this took SO long to develop. Truth to be told, this prompt has been stuck at the back of my mind and boy, I really wanted to make this beauty work. Also a special thanks to @bro-atz for helping me develop (this is for you as well hehe) Enjoy! 🩷

Walking through the cold and pale marble temple, you watch the way the vines curl around the pillars, creeping its way up to get some sun. The temple is insanely huge, standing tall thanks to blocky pillars, with intricate carvings, which you identify as white marble being slowly overtaken by soft moss and stubborn vines. 

You know, despite the gorgeous temple, its practices to serve Aphrodite were but.

Despite the anxiety you feel, you know you could do not much to fight against the elders and their ridiculous traditions. For centuries, chosen maidens by the fertility deity have been offered to appease the gods for the blessings of fertility of the town’s land and women every 11 years. No one knew how the gods looked like, but it seemed that every time a maiden was sent, the fields would bloom and flourish, couples would be blessed with a pregnancy. 

Of course, why wouldn’t they continue this ridiculous tradition?

And this year, you were chosen. 

You remember the last conversation you had with your mother before you had stepped foot into the temple. 

“I’ll come back mother. Weren’t there rumours that one of the maidens managed to come back?”

Your mother’s index finger flew to her lips. “Be careful of what you utter, my daughter. They don’t like the reminder that their choice was rejected.” 

You blinked at her, recalling the incident where one of the maidens got “returned” right after the ceremony and from what you could remember, led the elders to grow furious on top of anxious, then demanding that another sacrifice to be made, since the maiden was now considered “rejected” by the deity. The poor girl. Surely this deity couldn’t be that picky, right? 

You continue to thread the path before you, the soles of your feet getting used to the coldness of the marble floor by now. 

You enter the fountain room, and as its title, sits a large marble fountain, a statue lady draped over with a long piece of fabric looking down onto three cupids that spit out water, while she, herself pours water out of a vase.  

The sound of flowing water could honestly put you to sleep, if it wasn’t a curt reminder that you’re meant to drown here. Rose petals decorate and almost fully cover the surface of the bottomless fountain. Maybe it was a ploy to at least relax the previous maidens. There are a handful of people, all dressed in white robes that hide their faces, while the elders are dressed in ivory.

“There she is. Beautiful y/n”, the elder woman smiles, the emotion not reaching her eyes. You force a smile back. “Come, the water’s not cold.”

You dip your toes in. 

The water is fucking cold. 

“Think of it as a blessing to us, that you’re doing a gracious service to the village”, another elder curtly reminds you while she tosses more rose petals into the fountain. 

Two other women lie you down onto the water and more petals are strewn across the surface. Your hair is wet by now and so is your dress. You cringe at how cold the water is biting against your skin but you bear with it. 

The older woman turns around.

“We are gathered here today to witness the blessing Aphrodite will be giving us. We pray that the maiden reaches the goddess safely and may she stay in good hands”, she announces with clasped hands. 

“May Aphrodite bless us all.” She yells, her hands raised to the heavens, before the two hooded elders beside her shove your body into the fountain, sinking you to the depths, the last thing you’re hearing are loud chants that gradually become muted as you slowly accept your fate. 

A familiar hymn plays, and it catches Yeosang’s attention. 

“The maiden offering is here”, his Cupid announces. 

Yeosang only sighs in defeat, annoyed that his rose gardening has been interrupted, muttering how these mortals were being ridiculous, while still walking over to his marble foundation, careful not the crush the roses that had fallen onto the grass. 

“I genuinely have no idea how to stop these people from sending women down the fountain”, he complains to nobody in particular. 

“Why not just appear in front of them and tell them you’re the deity?” The little Cupid suggests as he floats beside Yeosang. 

He turns to his minion with folded arms. “No way. These people would pelt me with stones before they even decide to give me a chance to prove that I am. I’ll just do the usual.”

“Put them to sleep and then tie a red string on their ankles?”

“-to make sure they don’t get hurt or freak out or something. Then send them back up when enough time has passed.”, he continues with a small pout. “I’m still shocked at the way they freaked out when I sent the previous one back four decades ago.”

The Cupid purses his lips, listening to Yeosang rant about this for the nth time ever since he took over the temple and the rituals started every 11 decades as they near the fountain. 

He continues his rant up till he reaches the fountain. “Besides, none of them they send are ever my cup of tea. I’m sure this one’s not any-“

Then Yeosang immediately quietens down when his eyes land on the sleeping maiden before him. His Cupid casts him a confused glance, then back to the maiden on the fountain, wondering what suddenly silenced Yeosang. 

It’s just another maiden, his Cupid thinks. 

On the contrary, Yeosang can’t seem to keep his eyes off the maiden who’s unconscious, covered in rose petals like the previous maidens. What made her so different? He doesn’t know, but there’s a strange tinge of familiarity when he rests his eyes on your sleeping figure. 

The cupid’s eyes widen when Yeosang personally picks you up from the water with his bare hands. He never did that to the previous maidens, for he would complain about getting his robes wet. 

He sets you down on the cloud bed, watching how you’re breathing softly while he waits for the cupids to hand him a spare robe for you to change into. 

“Yeosang, aren’t you gonna change out?” His Cupid asks as he hands Yeosang the fresh set of robes. 

You stir from your slumber, feeling softness against your skin. You slowly open your eyes, before you remember what happened, and you shoot up, soaking in the unfamiliar environment surrounding you. It’s a beautiful, spacious, and airy room. Your eyes land on a male who’s fitting stalks of roses into a glass vase. 

“In a bit”, Yeosang replies, his eyes not lifting from you. 

He turns to you just in time, and you freeze. 

Oh gods, he’s stunning. His eyes are a shade of gray that makes him look all the more dreamy, and his lashes are long. His hair is a soft platinum blonde, contrasted by the bright red roses that rest on his hair. He looks like a statue himself. 

“You’re awake”, he greets with a curt nod. 

“You’re-“

“—Aphrodite‘s descendant, Deity Kang Yeosang”, the flying child announces. 

“Oh! Pardon my rudeness, Deity”, you squeak, going on your knees, your hands on the cold, marble ground. 

But Yeosang has his hands around you, lifting you up. “You don’t need to-“

“Oh but I should. You’ve been blessing our village with bountiful fields and beautiful children. It’s only right that I bow on their behalf”, you insist. Yeosang is speechless, mostly because it’s the first time that he has allowed a maiden to be conscious around his quarters, and that he’s speaking to one. He doesn’t really know what to do, let alone why he even did that in the first place. 

Yeosang looks away sheepishly. “It’s part of my job. Please, you may rise.” Despite his seemingly soft demeanour, you realise how chiseled his arms are, his muscles lifting you up together with him. When you’re finally facing him, you can’t help but wonder if this was the view that every maiden had—and that maybe it’s not so bad after all. 

Yeosang practically gave you the living quarters you woke up in, in which you were obviously thankful, offering for any help in exchange for it. Yeosang declined but you insisted, telling him you should repay him, so he decides to let you tend to one of his rose gardens around the temple.

It had been a few days since. 

By then, you had warmed up to the deity, spending time with him in the gardens, exchanging stories. Through these interactions, you realise how mellow and soft Yeosang is—usually stories of gods warn of them being picky, petty and sometimes, even wrathful. Yeosang didn’t seem to tick all of these boxes. It seemed like he would rather tend to his myriad rose gardens and caring for his cupids.

“Has anyone told you you’re absolutely beautiful, Yeosang?” You say, missing the way his ears are turning as pink like the roses that lie on his head. The both of you are cutting off the fresh buds that bloomed to collect the petals that afternoon. 

Yeosang’s cheeks flushes, rubbing the nape of his neck with a smile. It’s no different from what he always hears, especially as Aphrodite’s descendant, but to hear it from you makes him feel flustered for some reason.

“I mean not just how you look, but the way you treat the things around you.” 

“I’m not following”, a confused Yeosang replies, and it makes you giggle. 

“I’m saying, you’re gentle and kind too.” 

Gentle and kind. Of course he is, considering that has been something he’s been his whole life. It’s well known how much of a temperamental and petty his ascendant had been known to be, and he knows he’s not like that.

Distracted by his thoughts, he feels a sharp pain shoot in his finger. He flinches and pulls his hand away, realising his finger has been cut by a rose thorn.

This has never happened before. 

"Are you okay? Let me see-" you interject, taking his hand to inspect if the cut was deep, and you instinctually place his finger against your lips to suck on his skin. 

Yeosang's heartbeat is climbing at an exponential rate right now, wondering why do your lips feel so soft. Would it feel as soft if it wasn't just on his fingers? How would you taste against him?

"Are you okay, Yeosang?" your voice snaps him out of his rapidly growing crooked thoughts. His eyes meet yours and he forces a smile, letting himself enjoy the way you're gently stroking his fingers. He thinks it feels nice.

"It doesn't hurt. Don't worry", his voice lowers a pitch, his gaze softening as he watches the way your hands go from stroking his injured finger to playing around with the rest of his fingers, thinking it would help ease the sting. 

Yeosang places his hand on your cheek, gently stroking against your skin and his smile spreads to you. 

“Thank you. I’ll go and wash the wound. Don’t worry about it, really. It’s just a small cut”, he assures, almost reluctant to leave your side when you let him go, and he walks back to his chambers.

As he rinses his hands, Yeosang's cupid floats to his side, watching the way his deity has his eyes locked onto the maiden.

“You haven't sent her back up, Yeosang. I’ve never seen you do that.” 

Yeosang doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to reply. 

There is silence for a while, as the Cupid watches Yeosang bloom the roses.

“How long will you keep her?”

Yeosang watches the way you smell the roses from his bedroom window. His heart flutters. 

“For a little longer.”

You watch the rain fall and hit the leaves from the window of your room. The room is spacious, much too spacious for your liking. It wasn't you that you didn't hate being in the temple, having Yeosang and his little Cupids around were comforting, but during some days, the thorns of being home sick would prick you. 

Something is starting to bubble in Yeosang when his thoughts drift to you as night falls. Unfortunately, he seems to have realised it too late. 

Undoubtedly, the incident of Yeosang getting pricked by his rose bushes closed the distance between the both you. And that night, you realise you didn’t want to sleep alone. 

That night, Yeosang is still up, his concentration on finishing a book he had bought from the mortal realm. Then he hears a soft knock on his open door. 

His gazes flies to his door, his heart speeding up when he sees that it’s you standing at his doorway. 

“Is it okay for me to intrude?” You ask. “I feel lonely in such a big room.”

Yeosang blinks before remembering to respond. 

“Sure. There’s plenty of space on the bed”, he offers, shifting uselessly on the large bed to make space for you. You break into a smile, crawling into his shared space, the comfort of having Yeosang by your side already easing your worries. 

“What are you reading?” You ask, peeking over to his book trapped in his long fingers. 

He tips the book to show you the cover. 

“I got it at the marketplace.”

Your eyes brighten. 

“Right! You can travel to the mortal realm”, you remember him briefly mentioning it to you. 

He nods. “I can bring you back to the village from time to time to get stuff if you want.”

“You can bring me back?”

“I try to, discreetly, I guess. The mortals in the village for some reason didn’t like it when I brought back one of the maidens back directly once.”

Suddenly, the pieces start to fall into place. It’s all starting to make sense. 

Yeosang doesn’t realise he’s frowning. “You…yearn to go back there?” The words taste bitter in his mouth while he waits for your answer. 

“Well, I’ve grown rather attached to this place actually. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go back from time to time. You can send me back whenever you’re ready to, Yeosang”, you reply. 

Oh gods. Yeosang was internally preparing for the worst but for now, he’s satisfied with whatever arrangement he has with you. He’s never had a maiden stay longer than this, and he’s getting very comfortable with your companionship. 

You stifle a yawn, eyelids growing heavy. Your fingers brush against his playfully, and it gets his attention even though his eyes are empty on the pages of his book.

“You’re my favourite thing about this temple”, you mutter, shutting your eyes. Yeosang freezes in his spot, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“I think you’re my favourite thing about being a deity”, is his delayed reply. When he turns to gaze upon you, you’re asleep—comfortable and calm—just a hair’s breadth away from him. 

That night, he had the most comfortable night of sleep since the past few decades. 

Since then, your own bed in your quarters grew cold, and Yeosang’s bed only grew warmer as you continued to seek comfort with the deity. 

Yeosang wouldn’t lay his hands on you, even though he was fine with your small touches. He’d grown accustomed to it. 

Nonetheless, it doesn’t change the fact that his heartbeat accelerates when he feels you shift closer to him and lean your head against his arm or shoulder—whichever you felt like it—while you join him in reading whatever novel he has his nose buried into. 

Your hair brushes gently against his skin again, and it’s making him more jumpy than usual for some reason. Is it the way that he’s conscious of how physically close you are to him? Is it the way that your scent surrounds him like a veil recently? Is it the way your laughter sounds more beautiful than the hymns the harps could play?

He glances down at you, realising you’ve fallen into slumber, your breathing light. Yeosang smiles, his gaze landing on your face. 

Then the scent of you hits—sweet and intense—it makes Yeosang’s mind cloud. He feels his body warm up, and his eyes trail down from your face to your bare shoulders—where the strap of your nightgown had slipped past your shoulder—the lace trimming of your nightwear had lowered down your chest, revealing your soft breasts just shy of your nipples—

Fuck. Yeosang’s mind is on its road to being a goner. The discomfort that’s starting to bulge against his robes being the biggest indicator. 

He seeps deeper into his twisted fantasies, letting his hand slip down to palm his thickness, groans leaving his lips soft and controlled enough so that he doesn’t wake you up. His suppressed fantasies start to bubble to the surface—flashes of you in between his legs, your tongue lapping his nectar from his base to the tip, then struggling to take his cock full into your pretty mouth. Shit. It’s driving him to the edge. Yeosang swallows hard. He knows that everything about this is so wrong, but he can’t help it. The pleasure trickling into his veins and the risk of getting caught if he’s too loud—it only adds onto the rush that his cock is feeling, and he’s fucking loving it.

The robe is slowly shed off his chiseled body, the speed of his hand fucking his cock increasing when his fantasies start turning to you above him, settling onto his cock, eyes so glazed out and pretty for him while he spilts you open. He dreams of melting into your velvet heat and it only makes more precum leak out of his cockhead while he struggles to keep his breathing slow. 

He eyes flutter shut, a strained moan slipping past his lips. He doesn’t know how you’re not being awoken by now, but frankly, he doesn’t care. 

And when you shift in your sleep slightly, accompanying your movements with a sleepy groan, it only makes Yeosang’s predicament worse. He watches the way your top has completely slipped down, your nipple growing perky and hard from the cool air. Oh, what he’d do get a taste of it between his lips. 

The sounds of his hand fucking grow louder when his thoughts grow wilder when he wonders how you’d taste between your legs—sweet like the nectar of the roses you grow for him maybe. 

The precum seeping only grows white and thicker, the sensitivity burning through his body, making Yeosang press his head deeper against his pillows, his hand movements more desperate.

When his fantasies reach to one of you cumming and fluttering with tears in your eyes on his cock, Yeosang bursts with a broken cry of your name, his white and thick cum making a mess of his body and undone robe. His breathing is shaky, staring at the thick cum that stained his hand under the silver moonlight. 

It was then the realisation looms over him--there's no way it's possible to send you back up. Not when the need to hear you scream and cry his name is creeping into his veins like the thorny vines of his rose bush. 

“With all these roses around, doesn’t Yeosang get sick of the smell?” You ask the Cupid while your hands are busy snipping off the buds. 

He shrugs. “I guess he’s used to it.”

The Cupid casts another glance to the rose bush, furrowing his eyebrows, seemingly reflecting his confusion. 

“Although, you’re not wrong—the roses recently seem to smell stronger, and I’ve never seen buds this dark before.”

“Something wrong with the roses?” You hear the soft deep voice echo through your ears. 

“Yeosang!”, you exclaim, realising the subtle change in him—the roses that sit around his pale hair like flower crown are now as dark as the roses on the rose bush. 

You absentmindedly reach out to touch the roses on his hair, amazed by the deep crimson hue. “No, Cupid and I were just mesmerised at how pretty the dark roses are, actually.”

His smile fills your stomach with butterflies. 

“Were you? I’m glad you and Cupid seem to like them.”

Yeosang lets his hands linger on your cheek for a moment longer, his warm spreading through your skin. 

“I’ll see you tonight as usual, y/n?” 

You nod, but for some reason, the expression Yeosang casts you sets a whole cage of butterflies into your stomach. 

He’s satisfied with your answer and he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to your temple, the smell of roses floating around you, before he strolls back to his quarters, humming to himself. 

For some reason, something feels a little different that night. 

You walk into Yeosang’s chambers as usual, as you always do. He has his novel in his hands, but his eyes glance at you at his doorway the moment he feels your presence. 

You slide into his bed, like you always have done, noticing the comforting warmth that the deity radiated seemed slightly a little hotter than usual. But you attribute it to the fact that it had been pouring quite a bit lately, including tonight. 

The moment you crawled into Yeosang's space, he has his palm spread over your exposed thigh, his warmth spreading across your skin. 

“Isn't someone eager today”, you tease, absentmindedly returning his touch, much to Yeosang's surprise. 

“It's been cold lately, and your warmth is the only thing I've grown used to”, Yeosang replies with a gentle smile, and it makes your stomach burst with butterflies. 

“As with you”, you giggle, inching closer to the male. 

Yeosang reflects your bloom with a soft smile, before his attention returns to his book. You rest yourself against his arm, as you always do.

This night, Yeosang realises he can't concentrate on reading, not when he's hyper aware of the floral shampoo that's emitting off you. You've always been using the same floral shampoo, so why does the smell seem to come off stronger this time?

His thoughts are then interrupted when he hears you soft sigh as you shift your weight against his arm, his eyes locked at the way the strap of your nightgown slips past your shoulder once more, the gown dropping slightly lower, barely revealing your soft and perky nipples.

Yeosang doesn't realise his fingers are clamping onto the pages, hard. 

He averts his gaze back to the book that he knows it's pointless to get back to, so he shuts it.

Your eyes rake over his bothered expression, and your mind swims with worry.

“Are you okay, Yeosang?”

Yeosang turns his attention to you, forcing a smile. His words come out uncertain, “of course. I just need a breather. Give me a second, y/n.” He drops the book onto his nightstand before he leaves the bed to the balcony. You decide it's best to leave him be, while you keep yourself busy with the pile of books Yeosang bought for you on his nightstand.

Yeosang is barely confident that he's finally composed himself, but he decides to enter his room once he feels his heart gradually slow. He brushes off the crimson rose petals that had landed on his shoulder.

Since when have his petals gotten this red? 

He returns back to his room, and all of that self preservation immediately falls apart when the view before him on his bed is you–relaxed, with the sheets off you, your bare legs in full view for him to take in, your sheer nightgown bunched up to your thighs as your nose is deep into your novel. 

Yeosang remains silent as he inches towards to your side of the bed, and his movements definitely catch your attention. You look up and your eyes meet his, trailing him as he slowly settles down right in front of you. 

“Can I help you?” You tease, shutting the book. Yeosang doesn't answer, but rather, he lets his fingers dance along your leg, and up until he pauses at your knee.

You watch the way his eyes glimmer against the moonlight, then how it highlights his features like a marble statue. 

He's leaning closer.

His eyes are downcast for a second before they find the resolve to meet yours.

“Could I…?” he mutters, shyness reflected in his gaze. 

His palm is flat against your knee now, and he's warm to the touch.

You're suddenly feeling curious yet shy. You lower your gaze when you feel his palm press against your cheek, then lean in. His hands feel like comfort. Your eyes flutter open and you meet Yeosang’s stare.

His mind is going haywire when you look at him like that.

There is tension in the air, silence so loud you could hear two hearts fluttering if you listened hard enough. 

“Please”, you reply softly, loud enough for him to hear.

Before you could process it, Yeosang leans in for a deep kiss, determined to steal your breath and heart away as his lips collide against yours. He traps you against the bed, and your hands are around his neck, slowly lingering on his soft locks of hair. 

Red petals are slowly filling up the white spaces on the white sheets as Yeosang grows greedy–he’s pulled away from your lips, now he's messing with your cheek, then your jawline, then down your neck. His hands are going down. You gasp when you feel him cup your breasts. There's no way he doesn't feel your nipples grow harder through the thin fabric, and he makes full use of it to pinch and roll in between his fingertips, the sparks going right to your soaked pussy.

Yeosang lets you off momentarily, and the strange glint in his eyes don't go unnoticed by you. Too caught up in the moment though, you let him continue with whatever he wants to do. He continues kissing down south, teasing you with the fact that he's not letting his lips touch your skin directly. Every soft gasp and sigh he hears from you is his reward.

Then, he stops right at the wet patch of fabric in between your legs.

You swear his eyes form hearts. 

“You're already so wet for me?” He asks, which doesn't come off much as a question. His finger grazes along the damp fabric, and the wetness spreads even more. It’s driving Yeosang off the edge. You're driving Yeosang off the edge.

All Yeosang is thinking is that you're such a perfect gift. He wouldn't have asked for more.

The perfect offering. 

Perfect for him to ruin.

A thought crosses Yeosang’s mind–how far can he get your thin and useless panties soaked? He nuzzles against the warm and sticky fabric, trying his best to ignore the way his cock is just painfully throbbing to be let out. 

“Yeosang–!” You cry out, accidentally flattening some of the roses in his hair when the sensitivity bursts dully in your pussy. 

You're suddenly feeling self-conscious even though your mind is slowly sinking into the sins Yeosang is gravitating you into. 

Your cunt is getting soaked by the second, to the point your panties have pretty much grown transparent, so sticky and wet from your cream.

It doesn't change the fact that worries still flicker in and out of your mind. 

You're not a virgin. Would Yeosang approve of that? Would he be disgusted that you aren't?

You feel his fingers slither up your thighs, his thump hooking onto the waistband of your panties before he completely pulls your panties off, your pulsing wet pussy blooming like the most gorgeous flower Yeosang's ever seen.

Before Yeosang’s ready to reward himself, you squeeze your thighs, stopping him. 

He looks up at you, his eyes slowly glazed over, waiting for you to let him.

How is he so patient?

“I’m not a virgin—“

“It doesn't matter, darling”, Yeosang cuts you off while he presses his nose against your supple thighs, taking in a sharp inhale, letting your scent turn him dizzy. “I’ve always dreamed of hearing you scream my name when I’m fucking you.”

You struggle to keep your breathing in check, dazed and taking in this newfound side of Yeosang that seemingly bloomed from nowhere. 

“I'll make you feel so good, darling”, he promises, a teasing lick just to the side of your pussy, and your rationale completely dissolves. 

Yeosang pulls your legs apart, smiling against your skin when you don't offer resistance, then he presses his tongue against your wet cunt. 

You taste like heaven, is what is repeating in Yeosang’s head, over and over. He wants to make sure he sucks you dry. You squirm against him, the pleasure building recklessly whenever Yeosang drives his tongue against your clit, your moans turning into a mix of cries. Your wetness isn't drying up anytime soon, that's for sure. 

“So fucking good. Y-Yeosang…”, your lashes are wet, and with every flick of his tongue on your clit, it builds so fucking good that your legs have completely spread open for Yeosang, your cunt shamelessly leaking more creamy nectar for Yeosang to indulge in. He brings his tongue up to your clit once more, dragging the soft muscle against it. 

“You're so close, aren't you? Your sweetness is just getting better”, Yeosang hums. 

Your fingers clutch against the soft pillows under you, your mind slowly starts to blank and break. It feels so fucking good that Yeosang has to hold your hips down so he can tongue fuck you better.

“Be a good girl for me–cum as hard as you want.”

A choked sob echoes in his chambers while you go completely undone–shaking and pulsing against his tongue, your vision washed out by white as the pleasure seeps into each nerve and crevice of your brain. 

Yeosang is still lapping your cream up, dizzy from how you cummed all over his face. He really wants to make you do that over and over again until you break.  

The remnants of your orgasm and the overstimulation has you twitching in the best ways possible. You halt Yeosang–stealing his attention with your fingers under his chin. Yeosang looks up at you, burying his cheek against your palm while his tongue peeks out past his lips to lick the off the remainder of your cream on his face. Your thumb caresses his soft cheek and Yeosang appeases you for a moment before he climbs over you, his palm covering your wrist, guiding you down to the knot of his robe. Your fingers grab onto the loose end and you tug–his robe completely loosens. He leans in closer, letting your hands wander his body, flicking the robe away until Yeosang is fully naked before you.

He's nothing short of a marble statue–everything about him is completely ethereal. As much as you’re admiring his bare body,  your eyes can't help but wander to his thick cock. Even his cock is so pretty especially when it's glistening and hard, in a sheen of precum.

His voice is deeper now and it tickles your ears.

“I don't think I can go slow on you, my love”, Yeosang mutters, before he presses his lips onto the back of your hand. His crimson eyes meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. 

“I don't wanna.”

He fits a pillow under your hips, and his cock is easily resting right at your pulsing, wet hole. 

“Wanna feel you all the way, Yeosang. You can go as deep as you want”, you whisper, just craving to be fucked now. 

Yeosang smiles in reply, before he lines himself to your cunt and pushes himself in an inch or two.

A curt “fuck” slips past your lips, and your abdomen tenses once Yeosang starts fitting more of himself into your tight hole. 

“Gods, you feel so fucking amazing. So fucking warm for me”, Yeosang curses, his fingertips pressing onto your hips to keep any remainder of his sanity intact. 

When he finally has his dick fully fit in you, you look like you're about to cry. 

His fingers brush your cheek.

“Are you okay there?”

You nod. “You just feel so full in me.” Yeosang laughs, then groans when you squeeze him again.

“I'm gonna start moving.”

The lewd sounds of skin slapping start filling up the room once more, one wetter than the other. 

His thrusts have you clawing the sheets once more, eyes rolled back and pussy clamping him down for more.

He grunts at the way you're squeezing him.

“I'll fill you up so good, my love. Make you so swollen–full of my pretty little offspring just for you to bear”, he mutters in your ear. 

Your head is spinning as the pleasure builds up in your abdomen once more every time his cock hits your g-spot. The thought of Yeosang making sure you're leaking full of his seed, that he wants to breed you so badly throws out any rational thought out of your head. You want it so fucking bad too. 

“You feel so better than heaven, you know?” He manages, the thread of his rationale thinning the more he's fucking into you. “I really want you all to myself.”

His thrusts are getting heavier and every time his cockhead presses onto your g-spot, it sends you into an orbit. You're seeing fucking stars or flowers–they’re starting to look the fucking same at this rate.

“Yeosang!”, you cry out, your toes curling from the pleasure hitting you over and over again. You leave light marks down his pale skin. Your cunt has him tight in you, and it makes him dazed. His moans are filling up your ears while his cum fills up your pussy. 

The high slowly descends, leaving both of you catching your breaths, his face in your hands, eyes locked onto each other. You watch the dark red in his eyes slowly lighten but still remain red. 

Had he always donned such deep red eyes? 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, letting his fingers travel down the curves of your body.

You giggle tiredly, “a little sleepy.”

He covers your eyes with his slender fingers. “Then rest

Yeosang stares at the way you slowly sink into your slumber, huddled close to him. 

He brushes away the blood red rose petals that fall on your shoulders. 

I can’t help it if I adore you this much. I’m keeping you for a little longer. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, right? 

💘bonus epilogue💘

Yeosang knew he was about to be chided for always escaping his duties by hiding in the mortal world. Not that Eros would care anyway. 

No human comes around here, and that’s another reason why Yeosang loves this specific spot. If he’s feeling slightly more daring, he might hide himself amongst the mortals while he window shops at the marketplace, but for today, relaxing is on itinerary instead. 

He walks over to his usual tree, humming to himself.

Then he stops himself in his tracks, his eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. Someone is already occupying his tree. He watches the maiden hum to herself, her hands busy with picking flowers and she sits the stalks on her lap. 

Unfortunately, Yeosang is the last deity to be confrontational, and he’s ready to just turn and leave—

“Oh gods! You’re breathtaking.”

He stops in his tracks, and turns back slowly. 

His finger points to himself accompanied with a confused expression he wears. 

“Me?”

He’s only met with laughter that sounded like sun rays when dawn first breaks. 

“I’m sorry. I probably scared you. It’s just, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I’ve always wanted ask—has anyone told you that you’re beautiful?”

Plenty. 

You laugh again. It tickles Yeosang’s ears. 

“You’ve probably heard it many times. But I still want to say it—you’re beautiful.”

That day Yeosang hums a wonderful tune that even Cupid has never heard before. His attention goes back to tending his rose garden, his slender fingers getting busy, brushing against the bud of the roses, blooming them full. 

He notices Cupid's surprised gaze, before he plucks a rose bud out to hand it to him.

“What's wrong, Cupid? Never seen a red rose before?”

Cupid furrows his eyebrows, his gaze reflecting confusion on top of curiosity before he shakes his head in reply.

“Yeosang…this is the first time I'm seeing you bloom red roses.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3@mcarebearsstuff. @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @yeosangiess @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @skteezcursed

@jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3 @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike @songmingisthighs

[tesseractingrey]

I was watching some old bbc radio 1 clips and hearing their old introduction for the radio show, them describing it as putting the audience in charge, and thinking about answering fan questions for the basis of pinof, thinking about interactive introverts and giving the people what they want. For so long, their content has been SO connected to us, to interacting with us, answering our questions, giving us some element of control.

If you ask us why we watch Dan and Phil, we’d probably say for their dynamic, because we enjoy them as people and think they’re entertaining and enjoy how they interact together. But if you ask what kind of content Dan and Phil have made, it’s mainly stuff where they are trying to centers fans, not themselves. And sure, they have made lots of story time videos in their individual content, but I’m talking joint content: they’ve made an effort to make it about us, for years. Even when they started the gaming channel, then, they were trying to center the games, the competition of it all, not their dynamic.

Given everything that’s happened, it makes sense that they wanted to hold onto their privacy, and not make their relationship the center of the content. They weren’t comfortable being out, or comfortable fully inviting us to scrutinize their dynamic. So giving the audience “control,” deflecting the attention away from “we want to do this” and “we want you to know this” to “you want us to do this” and “you want to know this” as a defense mechanism. Yet they still maintained actual control, selecting which audience questions and suggestions to include, while making fans feel valued and involved.

And this isn’t a bad thing! They are fully entitled to their privacy, and this emphasis on interaction with us is a large part of why I think they built such a strong and wonderful community. And they clearly actually do like us and are glad to have us, so there’s also some element of gratitude and wanting to give back in wanting us to be included in the content.

But that’s changing, now. What Dan and Phil text each other, spill or kill, the mukbangs, this is all parts of themselves and their dynamic that they are freely choosing to share with us, to make the topic of the video. Their gaming videos are not about playing popular games, it’s just random bullshit or niche games that just give them a chance to yap, intentionally centering their dynamic in the content. And sure, there’s them looking at phan twitter, but there’s also them just sitting and watching tik toks and recording it so we can see too. We talk about feeling like a third wheel so much recently, because they are so comfortable and themselves on camera and so much less focused on directing the content towards us, and more focused on just having fun Together.

They came back to the gaming channel not to make us happy, but because it made THEM happy, because Dan genuinely wanted to again. Comparing how they talk about the content they were making in 2018 to now in the last mukbang, there’s now no feeling of owing us something, of wanting to give us what we want to make us happy. Dan said he can’t wait for Phil to Get to see us all in person, not just that they know we want to see them. They are doing this for themselves, they’ve repeatedly said that they’re shocked at the response to the gaming channel coming back: they didn’t make this choice for us.

They are now explicitly in control of their content, it’s not about us. And yet they’re Choosing to center their dynamic and be themselves, show us more of themselves than ever before. After everything, I just think it’s really special that they feel comfortable doing that, and I’m so glad that we get to see them be so happy and doing things for their own good.

[phefics]

𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: kaz brekker x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part two to loophole. kaz and reader try another new kind of intimacy. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: afab!reader, fem!reader, boot-riding, cumming in pants, intimacy struggles, kaz likes to be praised, mentions of kaz’s canon trauma 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1k

Ever since discovering that he could please you without touching your skin, Kaz had become…creative in coming up with new ways to do so. He would randomly suggest positions the two of you could try, ways around his aversion to most forms of touch, ways to get you both off with the least amount of skin-to-skin contact. Fingering you with his gloves on had only been the first of his ideas, and it had been a very good plan.

Just like that night, he was sitting at his desk, but instead of perched above him, you were on the floor at his feet this time. Once again, he was fully clothed, and you were in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear.

He beckoned you closer with those leather gloves, a new pair, after you had soaked the last one. You crawled closer, looking up at him with wide, wanting eyes.

“Sit on my shoe,” he said simply. He said it with such authority, but you could see the uncertainty in his face. He was out of his element in the bedroom, still nervous and learning, but he was an expert con-man, able to play off his nerves and sound like the strongest, smartest person in any room. You, however, could read him like a book.

The request took you a little off guard. “Your shoe?” you asked, clarifying.

Kaz stretched his bad leg out to the side, getting it out of the way before planting his other foot down in front of you. “Yes. You’re going to sit on it, and grind yourself on it.”

You had your doubts that it would feel good, but after a moment of curious silence, you obeyed, straddling his shoe and lowering yourself onto it. The shape of the boot actually made it so if you moved your hips just so, you could rub your clit against it. You smirked at the realization.

“Can I hold your leg, or would that…?”

“I think I’ll be alright,” Kaz said.

Tentatively, you wrapped one arm around his calf, steadying yourself. You felt him take a deep breath when you did, but he stayed calm. He was getting better with it all, the touch and the intimacy. As long as it wasn’t bare skin, he could usually manage.

Slowly, you pushed your hips forward, and you immediately knew that Kaz had done well when he came up with this. You weren’t sure if he had read about it, or if he’d simply come up with the idea on his own, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it actually felt really good.

You let out a moan, and Kaz immediately perked up, watching you with lust burning in his eyes. Before he had pleasured you with his gloves on, he had watched you touch yourself once. He had quickly become overwhelmed by the sight, and the evening had gone in a different direction after that, but now, watching you experience pleasure gets him so riled up. To be the one causing it, albeit through a few hoops, brought him the utmost satisfaction.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, breathless.

You nod. “It’s good. Weird, but good.”

The sturdy, constant pressure made it easy to keep a steady rhythm. You had tried to hump pillows before, but always found them too flimsy. A shoe turned out to be much more effective, and you pressed your hips down onto his boot, rocking back and forth, surprised at how satisfying it proved to be.

To your surprise, Kaz brought a still-gloved hand to the erection pressing against his pants. Through the layers of clothes, it seemed he was comfortable to palm himself. Seeing him do so only lit the fire within you more, knowing that you had encouraged this side of him to come out.

Kaz was not a prude: Nudity and sex did not embarrass him. It was the act of sex itself that freaked him out, and you had slowly but surely helped him to settle those fears and allow himself to experience pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his pale face flushed and scrunched up in concentration as he thrust his hips into his hand.

“You look so pretty,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to his knee.

He whimpered, his ears going red.

The sound only encouraged you to chase your own pleasure, picking up the rhythm of your thrusting. “You like it when I call you pretty, hm?” you asked. “You are. You look so good when you touch yourself for me.”

Kaz moaned, the hand that wasn’t rubbing his cock reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it. Every time the two of you fooled around like this, he grew bolder, more confident, more comfortable. It filled you with so much pride to see him let go, to know that you were helping him through one of the biggest struggles he faced on a daily basis.

It also made you feel loved, to know that Kaz cared for you enough to do this, to face his fears in an attempt to be closer to you. He still wasn’t good at emotions. He never told you that he loved you, rarely went out of his way to compliment you, but he showed his affection in other ways: How worried he got when you were injured on the job, the little gifts he would leave on your pillow, and most recently, finding ways to pleasure you without triggering himself.

As you got closer to orgasm, you found you couldn’t keep silent. “Fuck, Kaz, it feels so good. You’re doing so good for me. Wanna cum for you, want you to cum for me…”

It didn’t take long for Kaz to do just that, his sweet whines like music to your ears. His pants, despite their dark color, were evidently damp.

You followed him soon after, clinging to his leg desperately as you came, panties soaked as leaving a shiny spot on his shoe.

Kaz brought a gloved hand to the side of your face. “Was that good for you?”

You gave a breathless chuckle. “It was amazing. You’re very innovative.”

He smirked. “I try my best.”

You couldn’t wait to find out what idea he’d come up with next.

[magicalbats]

Tell Me You're Mine (Scar x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,321

Warnings: afab!reader, rimming (female receiving), cunnilingus, facesitting, simulated sex through clothes, cum in pants (male), spit, implied/innate femdom, pathetic sub boy behavior, stalking

A/N: Literally was not going to be able to move on until I got this out of my system lol I promise no one fully understands just how crazy he's made me!! I see the way he looks at us and I just!! Ugh!!

⭐

Your terminal beeps, signaling an incoming call. 

Thankfully it doesn't cause you to startle the same way it had the first few dozen times it started making noises at you and you reach back to press the button on the side with a newly practiced, casual motion. It might have surprised you, how little thought you actually give the strange device and its near constant presence at your back now that you’ve grown accustomed to it but, well. Your contacts list was awfully short, wasn’t it? 

The projection of Chixsia’s photo ID blinks into existence before your face like a real life magician's trick, the hologram faint and irresolute against the harsh backdrop of craggy mountains and lifeless dead trees. In truth you don’t understand this technology much more than you understand anything else about this world. But just as with every other unfamiliar thing here you’ve taken it in stride and adapted to it. At the very least, you were just glad you no longer had to wrestle with the instinctive reflex to reach up and try to swat the holo icon away like it was nothing more than an incessant gnat. That had quickly proven a rather embarrassing reaction on your part. 

“Rover!” 

“Hey, Chixsia. Did you need something?” 

“No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to check in with you and see how things were going!” 

You’re not so sure you believe that and at your doubtful hum she breaks embarrassingly fast. 

“Okay, okay. It’s just that we haven’t seen you since yesterday afternoon when we were trying to figure out that puzzle box the magistrate left for you. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure everything was alright, that’s all.”

Warmed by her sincere concern, you feel your mouth start to tug into a slow smile. “I’m fine, but thank you for thinking of me. You and Yangyang have certainly made me feel welcomed.” 

“Well, of course. That’s kind of our job, isn’t it?” She lets out a bright, tittering laugh on the other side of the line, and you lift your brow in question. 

“Is it really?” 

Whatever she says next is lost under the creeping howl of wind that rushes through the ravine you’re standing in. The uneven cut of rocks and boulders long gouged by the elements in such an inhospitable environment amplifies the acoustic reverberation and almost seems to make it echo in the space between your ears. Wincing, you drop to a defensive crouch on the ground and peer around you in search of any Tacet Discords that may have taken notice of your position. Much to your relief though, the coast still looked to be clear. 

You, paranoid? Maybe so, but it was in part what had kept you alive this long. If you were a little on edge it was for a good reason. Huanglong had certainly given you more than enough incentive to stay on your guard in just the short amount of time since you’d woken up here and you weren’t inclined to start throwing caution to the wayside just yet. 

“Woah, what is that?” Chixsia’s voice rings out over the connection, the hologram weakly flashing when the signal falters. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” 

“No.” Yes, she had, but you weren’t about to tell her that. “It was just the wind. Nothing to be concerned about, promise.” 

A single beat of surprised silence passes over the connection. “Where are you that has wind like that?” 

“I’m up in the mountains. I decided to take on a commission since I had the free time anyway, and the money was good.” 

The little white lie comes out smooth and natural, thanks in no small part to all the rehearsing you’d done on the way up here. You still feel a distant pang of guilt at having to deceive Chixsia of all people but it couldn’t be helped. If she knew the truth behind your solo trek out into the wilderness there was a very real possibility she might take that as her cue to rally the troops for a search and rescue party, and you couldn’t have that. Not yet. 

“Huh? But why would you do that? If you’d needed money you should have just said something! I’m sure the magistrates office would have been happy to provide for your living expenses while you’re here.” 

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t see it through the audio-only call. “I don’t want to burden anyone more than necessary or freeload, and Jinzhou has already done so much for me. Besides … isn’t there a saying about how idle hands make for troubled minds, or something like that?” 

She offers a brief sound of consideration in response, mulling that over. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly how it goes but I get what you mean. Still, are you sure everything’s alright? You seemed a bit distracted when we went our separate ways yesterday. You’d tell us if you needed help, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of course I would.” This white lie isn’t so small and it comes out with more difficulty as a result. But you’re quick to mask it under the guise of being predisposed, and you’re not quiet about it as you climb to your feet before spinning around in a slow circle to survey your surroundings. You make sure to tread carelessly while you do it so that the sound of your footsteps might reach her all the way back in the city. “Not to rush you, Chixsia, but did you need anything else? I have to go.” 

“No, no. That was all. If you’re sure everything’s okay then … I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” 

The note of disappointment in her voice is unmistakable, and it makes you smile again even when you try very hard not to. “Relax. You have my word that there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got everything under control over here. And hey, the next time we go out for lunch it’ll be my treat. How’s that sound?” 

To your relief, she perks up immediately. “It sounds like a deal! You’d better not forget you said that, Rover! I’ll hold you to it!” 

“I will, I will. Bye for now, Chixsia.” 

The line drops mere seconds after her enthusiastic parting and you let your shoulders slump once the holo ID blinks out. That should at least take care of your alibi, so there was that. You can’t help but wish it had been just about anyone other than the guileless junior officer though, because she seemed much too naive and trusting to pull one over on in good conscience. Oh well. Necessary evils and all that. 

Breathing out a terse huff through your nose, you crane your head back to look up at the craggy side of the ridge and squint against the low setting sun. Still no signs of, well. Anything at all. Even the last Tacet Discord you’d run into had been miles back and was now long forgotten. But that’s not what you were out here for. If Chixsia or anyone else had pressed the matter you would have readily used the excuse that it was just part of the job you’d taken on and you were hunting down some monster or another. You were relatively certain that they would have believed that story without much fuss, especially when this world seemed to have more than its fair share of them. It was at least commonplace enough not to draw suspicion.

But you were hoping to lure out a demon of a completely different breed, and you were certain no one would believe you were serious about it even if you did tell them. They’d think you’d gone crazy, hit your head somewhere along the way and were now suffering the debilitating consequences. For all the sense this foolhardy plan of yours made, hell, maybe you did take a too hard hit to the noggin at some point. That seemed about as likely as anything else. 

You knew you weren’t imagining the feeling of being watched though. That unmistakable sensation of eyes on you, tracking your every move, has followed you everywhere you go in Jinzhou since the first moment you came to. Strolling along the busy streets or wandering into the quieter residential neighborhoods, passing through one of the bustling markets or making your way out to the militant outpost at the edge of the city. It doesn’t matter where you go, that feeling always remains. 

The one and only place it seemed to fade to a distant afterthought, you’ve noticed, was inside the City Hall building, but you couldn’t exactly hole yourself up there for the rest of your life. It just wasn’t feasible, for starters, and you weren’t entirely sure yet if you could place all of your trust in them anyway. It’s hardly any wonder then that with no other choice and the time to spare while you awaited the magistrates return, you’d finally decided to take matters into your own hands. 

“Let’s see now. If I were a shameless stalker, I wonder where I'd hide.” You murmur under your breath as you turn, examining the way you’d come for any hint of another person trailing you from behind. In all honesty you already knew the identity of at least one of the culprits but you didn’t want to jump to pointing the finger at him without sufficient evidence first. He probably didn’t deserve that leeway but you were still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in this. 

Not because he’d given you any reason to believe he wasn’t that kind of person, but because you’d long had the sense that there were at least two separate individuals keeping tabs on you, if not more. One was almost imperceptible and easily ignored save the periodic chill in the air that seemed to suggest their interest in you was less than innocent or friendly. 

The other was Scar. 

All red hot and static charged, his laser focused attention was hard to miss even when he was doing the utmost to conceal himself and his heated stare. But once he’d revealed himself to you out in that desolate, abandoned village you’d been able to easily discern him from the other on multiple occasions now. He was still following you, yes, but so was that icier, less obvious presence. Hiking out into the unwelcoming mountain range hadn’t dissuaded either of them but neither had they made their move yet. Curious. Were the two conflicting forces perhaps acting to repel one another and keeping them both mutually at bay? 

Turning that over in your head, you complete one last full circuit survey of the surroundings in hopes of spotting at least some hint of another presence in the ravine with you. An out of place shadow on the ground, a clatter of misplaced rocks or perhaps even a tuft of haphazard hair its owner doesn’t conceal himself fast enough to hide. At this point you would have been happy with anything at all if it just reassured you that you weren’t going crazy. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” 

Nothing. There wasn’t a damn thing that looked like it didn’t belong or warranted any amount of doubt. In truth the area almost seemed completely void of life save your own and the occasional bird you could make out far in the distance when they flew by overhead. 

So not even that troublesome man wanted to show himself, huh? What a predicament this was turning into. You’d thought for sure he at least would have jumped at the chance as soon as you were alone and hopefully draw the other out of hiding in the process. 

Oh well. You still had plan B to fall back on. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in a bright ultraviolet glare by the time you reach the river at the far end of the ravine. It’s situated in a natural alcove cut out of the rock face by the constant buffeting of elements; wind and rain, and the freezing snow of winter which had left myriad cracks and uneven dips littered across the ground. The rising jut of the ridgeline made for a relatively fortified spot to set up camp for the night where it would be difficult for anyone or anything to sneak up on you and catch you unawares. After doing a preliminary inspection to ensure there weren’t any wolf or bear dens you’d be encroaching on, you deem it to be as safe as it was likely going to get. 

While you work to get settled in, unburdening yourself of your supplies pack and erecting a small campfire to hopefully cook a fresh fish or two on later, you remain keenly aware of the eyes that still linger on you. Even all the way out here you couldn’t escape them and for the moment at least you weren’t quite sure which party they belonged to. Was it only Scar who had followed you all this way or had both of them taken the bait? 

Hopefully you would find out soon enough. 

The minutes crawl by, quiet and uneventful, save the hopeful crackle of the kindling catching on dry wood. 

Finally deciding that you were satisfied with the modest flame you’ve managed to build up, you make a casual show of finding your feet and stretching your arms high over your head. You weren’t overly confident in your own acting abilities but if Scar really was somewhere out there watching you from a distance then believability probably didn’t matter much. Frankly you were just surprised he’d shown even this much self restraint. 

Turning away from the makeshift camp with a small rag in hand, you shuffle over to the edge of the riverbank where you relieve yourself of your sword and then your terminal. Your shoes and utility straps quickly follow, then your tunic dress. The last thing to go are your bottoms, leaving you standing there completely nude. Your nipples stand up in stiff, achingly hard points against the cool mountain air as you take a first tentative step into the water. It’s cold but not freezing, and you merely let out a soft hiss when you force yourself to wade further out into the slow moving stream despite its unwelcoming chill. 

Was this a stupid, reckless and irresponsible plan? Undoubtedly. There was no telling what dangers you were inviting by doing this but it was the only option you could think of that might be too tempting for your voyeurs to resist. If they wouldn’t come out of hiding when you were armed and ready for them, then perhaps the vulnerability of your nakedness would do the trick. 

Fighting back the clatter of your teeth, you slowly sink down to submerge yourself up to your waist. A bit of awkward shifting soon locates a relatively smooth rock for you to perch on, and you try to relax into the crisp water as you set in to wash your body clean. This at least isn’t wholly feigned. Your skin was sticky with clammy sweat after the long trek so you were glad for a bath even if nothing more productive than that came of it. 

The following stretch of moments is still and serenely picturesque, save the distant cries of a lone raven and the periodic sound of splashing while you wash. It would have been rather nice if only it was just a little bit warmer. You wanted nothing more than to rush through it and hurry back to the fire as quickly as possible, but you force your hands to work at a deliberately sedate pace so that you might give whoever was watching you plenty of time to work up the courage to act. Honestly you hadn’t thought Scar of all people would need that kind of consideration but … 

At last, a soft yet sudden clatter of displaced rocks sounds from somewhere just behind you and jars you from your thoughts. It takes a great deal of effort to stamp down the urge to turn and look, but you do your best to pretend as if you hadn’t noticed it while you scrub the rag down the length of your thigh. This was a delicate situation. If you reacted too soon you ran the risk of spooking them and scaring them away. But if you reacted too late after they were already right on top of you then there was a very real chance they might succeed in overpowering you. Clearly you’d just need to trust that your instincts would see you through this and hope for the best. 

So you wait, counting off each individual second in your head until the next sound reaches your ears, a little closer this time. Pebbles disturbed on the ground, you think, and nothing more to indicate what it might be. The thought that it could be a Tacet Discord crosses your mind and almost makes you spin around to check but you refrain, too determined to get to the bottom of this stalking situation to give in. You just sorely hoped this foolish gamble of yours paid off. 

But the longer it goes on the less likely it seems that it might be Scar watching on from the shadows. He hadn’t seemed the cautious type anyway, but he certainly wouldn’t have had any reason for such reticence after already showing himself to you as boldly as he had once before. 

It must have been the other one then, you decide. But why were they still lingering back there instead of taking advantage of the ample opportunity you’d practically handed them? You couldn’t make sense of it. 

Then you finally hear it. The unmistakable thump of footsteps. Heavy boots that tread the ground on long, confident strides and steadily approach the riverbank at an unhurried, almost casual pace. That realization makes your instincts go absolutely haywire as anticipatory jitters settle low in your gut and set you to vibrate. Somehow there was a certain familiarity in that canter, defying all logic and reason, but you’d thought — 

“Oh, Rover ~” 

Every single hair on your body immediately stands on end to accompany the chill that races down your spine. Heart rate quickening, you carefully twist around to look behind you as calmly as you can manage it. Instinctively you wanted to lunge for your sword where it was resting only a few feet away and take comfort in its grounding weight in your hands. Logically, however, you knew that any sudden movements had the potential to escalate the situation far beyond your control so you try your best to stay level headed. 

And sure enough, it is indeed Scar making his way across the barren ground towards you. In the flesh and just as arrogant as he’d been back in that ramshackle village, you’re more than just a bit chagrined to find. Except he’s not alone. And it’s not the mysterious woman who’d shown up to retrieve him after his Elysium broke. 

Breath catching in your chest, you stare wide eyed at the person hanging motionless from where Scar’s holding onto the back of their jacket. Based on the build you think it’s a man and the toes of his shoes drag bonelessly against the ground behind him, arms hanging just as limp in the front. Either dead or knocked out cold. For his sake, you sorely hoped Scar had shown him some amount of mercy and it wasn’t the former. 

Your body is so tense, the muscles locked up in preparation for a fight, that it almost hurts as you shift further around to face him and his onward approach head on. It doesn’t seem to bother Scar one little bit though, his lack of concern obvious when he merely grins down at you in response. Undeterred and utterly shameless. 

Stepping right up to the edge of the bank, he finally saunters to a stop and carelessly tosses his burden down at his feet. You track the unknown man with your eyes, but he doesn’t stir even when one of his arms flops out to land half in the chilly water. Like a puppet that’s had its strings cut. 

You quickly snap your attention back up at the Overseer, fearlessly looking into that leering face of his. “Who is that? And what did you do to him?” 

“What, not even a friendly hello first? How very cruel you are, Rover, but that’s alright. We have plenty of time to properly greet one another in due time. And as for your question … if you’ll recall our last conversation he’s exactly what I warned you about when we first met. I told you there were multiple factions fighting over you and vying for your attention didn’t I, my dear?” Tipping his head to one side, Scar peers down at you consideringly. He may have been smiling but the glint in his mismatched eyes seemed to suggest that he wasn’t particularly amused right now. How curious. 

“You should listen to me next time.” He goes on.  “I’m not in the habit of speaking so idly that my warnings can go unheeded. I only speak the truth. At least when it comes to you, anyway. I meant everything I said before.” 

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Scar. Who is this person?” 

He gives his head a slow shake, laughing low under his breath. “Yet another inconsequential insect, that’s all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. They’re always buzzing around you like flies, aren’t they? Well, you won’t have to concern yourself with this one again. I already took care of him for you.” 

Realizing that this wasn’t getting you anywhere, you take a deep, calming breath in through your nose and let it out from your mouth. You’d just have to attack this from a different angle. “Is he dead? Can you at least answer that?” 

“Not yet he isn’t ~” 

Alright, well. You didn’t very much like that sing-song tone coming from him. “That’s good to hear, but why did you attack him?” 

Cooing softly, mockingly, Scar draws his brows up in an affected, put upon look of feigned pity. “Isn’t it obvious? I was willing to play nice up until this one here decided to enjoy the little show you were putting on a bit too much, that’s all. Oh, but don’t fret over the likes of him. You needn’t concern yourself with such trivialities. He’s just a peeping Tom. A pervert. He only got what he deserved.” 

You pin him with a doubtful look at that, frowning. “What does that make you then? Something tells me you didn’t mind the show much either.” 

“Me?” A surprised guffaw bursts out of him, his body language abruptly shifting towards restlessness as he brings a hand up and places it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Rover. Really, you do. I’d never sink to such lows. I’m not without my pride, and you’d do well not to forget that. If you’re going to come to me it’ll be willingly and without any tricks. No deceit. That’s what I promised you the first time, isn’t it? A fair and honest exchange?”  

Pausing, Scar takes a moment to drag his heated gaze over the curve of your bare shoulders and neck, and the spot where your arms are loosely crossed in front of your breasts. It’s more to protect them from the chill than from his attention when it was clearly already much too late for that but it seems to delight him all the same. His grin widens, stretching across his face in eager slow motion to settle into a look of giddy anticipation, unnerving you deeply, before he goes on. 

“I don’t need to stoop to that kind of spineless behavior. I wasn’t the one fisting my damned cock from the shadows while you touched yourself out in the open for all to see. If it was my attention you wanted you’ve got it. But I’m not about to sit by while someone else gets off thinking about putting their hands on you. Either you’ll have me or you’ll have no one. I hope that’s clear enough for you, little lamb.” 

You’re more than just a bit blindsided by that declaration and you simply stare up at him in bewildered silence for a long stretch, mouth slightly agape. Of course this doesn’t come as a complete surprise though. You’d gotten the sense that Scar was a truly exhausting individual from your first short encounter with him but it was clear now that you hadn’t understood the full scope of it. He’d already decided that you were his (or would it have been more accurate to say that he was yours?) without stopping long enough to consider your choice in the matter. And it was starting to look like he just might be the most jealous prone man you'll ever meet in this lifetime or the next, considering the unconscious person he’s thrown at your proverbial doorstep with all the pomp and ceremony of a wild cat gifting its favorite human with a fresh kill. The entire thing was completely absurd. 

It was also perilous and indescribably risky, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t turn it back around in your favor though. You had to at least try.  

“I won’t say I’m flattered but I can understand where you’re coming from. It’s hard watching someone else covet what you also want, isn’t it?” You say, trying for reasonable diplomacy. “But does that mean no one else is watching us right now? Were you and him the only ones following me?” 

He issues a sharp bark of laughter in response. “Hah! You really are something else, aren’t you? I practically rip my heart out and give it to you on a silver platter but you’re still more concerned about everyone else than you are with me. Ahh, and yet they call me the cruel and twisted one, don’t they?” 

At Scar’s dramatic, over exaggerated sigh, you shoot him a wry look. It’s an effort not to grudgingly smile at his antics but you manage to refrain, somehow. The very last thing you needed was to encourage him any further. “Just answer the question, Scar. I might be inclined to be a bit more welcoming if you do.” 

Chuckling, he drops the act entirely now and lifts his arms up to indicate the side of the mountain as a whole, like a ringmaster directing his stage. “That’s right, Rover. It’s just you and me now. There was someone else but I’m afraid they ran off to hide elsewhere once I made my move. They don’t like the Fractsidus very much, you see, and they’d rather not have to deal with me if they can help it.” 

Turning his attention downward, he reaches out to nudge at the unconscious man’s ribs with the toe of his boot. Still, the unknown individual doesn’t so much as groan in response even when Scar pulls back and gives him a solid kick that makes you wince, and it worries you more than just a little bit. You were going to have to do something to distract Scar and lead him away before he followed through on his unspoken promise of finishing the job he’d started. It was the right thing to do even if that man had been stalking you right along with everyone else. 

“If you want my opinion that was probably a smart move on their part. And with them out of the picture that just left this pathetic little rat to deal with.” His laughter rising in pitch, Scar delivers another mean kick to the man, half rolling him over onto his side from the force. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? How many people have been keeping tabs on you?” 

A distant note of surprise curls through you. So he knew then. There was no reason to hide it or beat around the bush in that case. “Do you know who the others are? Can you tell me which faction they belong to, or at least this one?” You ask, indicating the man with a nudge of your chin. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get ahead of yourself, now. I’m more than happy to continue our game, especially when you’re like this …” Sedately turning towards you again, dull gray and red eyes pointedly drop to indicate the swell of your breasts. He must like what he sees because his smirk takes on a sharper, more predatory edge. 

And you almost catch yourself scoffing, very tempted to remind him that he’d just implied he wasn’t a pervert only a moment ago, but then his gaze travels back up to your face. The way he looks at you, pupils blown wide and soft with an emotion you can’t quite place, as if you’d personally hung the moon and the stars in the night sky, kills the thought before you even get the chance to give it voice.

“But an equal exchange is not so one-sided.” He continues, his tone warm with something not unlike reverence now. “You’re smart, Rover. I’m sure you understand that any healthy relationship involves some amount of give and take, don’t you? That’s what I want from you more than anything else. Just a fair chance.”

You hesitate at the sly purr that creeps into his voice at the tail end and the strange feeling it ignites low in your gut. He certainly knew how to appeal to your emotions — or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it the natural inclinations of your flesh and blood body. There was no denying a strange sort of chemistry brewing just beneath the surface no matter how much you wanted to reject it but you had to keep your head on straight. Scar was much too dangerous for you to throw caution aside, particularly when you were naked and unarmed. You didn’t stand a chance in hell against him like this. 

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m not sure if I have anything I can give you. What do you want in return that you would consider a fair trade?” 

“You.” He insists, putting so much emphasis on just that one single word you almost believe him. “We want you. Always you, my dear. Nothing more and nothing less. You’re the goal, the prize. The much sought after trophy everyone wants for themselves. They need you for their own objectives, their own ends, but I merely want to stand at your side, together. I can give you anything you could ever want or dream of having if you’d just pick me.” 

Frowning, you give your head a slow, solemn shake. “But how can I possibly trust you? There’s so much I just don’t know yet and … what Yangyang said didn’t exactly paint a flattering picture. You have to understand how things look from my perspective.” 

As if someone had flipped a light switch, he sobers at the drop of a coin. Where only just a short moment ago he’d been looking at you with fervent, almost fanatical intention he now draws in on himself and effectively shutters his expression from your watchful gaze. It would have been incredibly disconcerting had you not already seen the contrast of his hot and cold temperament first hand, how wildly he swung from one extreme to the next and without any discernible rhyme or reason dictating it along the way. 

You half expect him to launch himself at you in retaliation, to force you into submission and take you by force, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that there was a whole lot you could’ve done about it when you were so woefully defenseless. But then, to your mounting surprise, he merely draws a slow inhale that makes his chest visibly expand before speaking, perfectly calm and reasonable again. 

“I suppose that’s fair. Disappointing, yes, but it doesn’t come as a great surprise. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get to you in time before they did and you’ve had all those annoying little birds chittering away in your ear ever since you woke up. It’s no wonder you hesitate to trust me. I don’t blame you for that, little lamb, but at least give me a chance to show you just how sincere I really am before you start making any final decisions. That’s all I ask.”

Your stomach plummets into the ground as you look up at him in real surprise, blinking owlishly. Give him a chance? When that extended olive branch might cost you not only your life but your very soul? Surely he was joking. “I'm not sure I understand … didn’t I give you plenty of time to plead your case back in Qichi village?”

“This is different. It’s just the two of us here now, which means no more pesky interruptions from your nosy little friends or mine. We can talk for hours if we want, or even until the sun rises.” 

Thoughts momentarily drifting to that mysterious Fractsidus woman who’d shown up to retrieve him, you wonder if Scar is really as alone as he was making himself out to be. You’re not so sure you trust it. But when you don't respond he just silently holds out his hand to you in offering, a simple enough gesture that stops your quizzical pondering in its tracks. 

You don’t jump to take his outstretched fingers though, and for good reason. Instead you warily eye the sharp red claws that form on the fingertips of his gloved suit, the considerable size of his palm and the undeniable power he clearly wields, lurking just below the surface. You knew too well that readily falling right into the clutches of the enemy like this might be the very last mistake you ever make, but … this would work as a sufficient distraction to get him away from that unconscious man, wouldn’t it? And you were tempted, oh so very tempted for much less charitable reasons too. There was a sick sort of curiosity simmering like a pot left to stew on low heat in the back of your mind. 

But could you really justify this? Could you rationalize it and make peace with it later on when you were lying in bed at night, awake with only your own thoughts for company? 

Seeing your obvious uncertainty, Scar’s expression pinches slightly at the corners. “Let’s just forget about everything else for a moment. All the different factions and sides, the players and the pawns. Your role in all of this and mine as well. I’m offering myself to you with transparency and honesty, Rover. Give me a chance. I’ll say please, if that’s what you want.” 

“And how am I supposed to know that this isn’t a trap? Surely you must realize I’m at a sore disadvantage right now.” You grumble, indicating your naked breasts with a pointed shrug of your shoulders and Scar outright laughs, the low rumble in his voice belying the excited surge of fast pumping adrenaline he must feel. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You won’t know until you find out for yourself. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He gives his fingers a coaxing wriggle, inviting you to accept his offer. “Come on. You look cold sitting there all alone. I can help you warm up and I’ll even promise to be on my best behavior if you just try to meet me in the middle. I don’t think you’ll regret it ~” 

“Your best behavior, huh?” You drolly echo him, hardly believing that such a thing even existed. He seemed the type who was nothing but trouble through and through. You’d be far more surprised if it turned out that he actually did have the capacity to be agreeable than the reverse but, well. You were starting to prune. It was definitely time to get out of the water and you’d much rather do so peacefully than have to fight him tooth and nail while you were cold and stripped bare. 

Somehow you didn’t envision that turning out very well. 

Sighing, you finally relent and shift forward so you can push up onto your knees. It’s hard to fight the feeling that you were making some horrible, monumentally egregious mistake as you reach up to take his offered hand which securely closes around yours like an iron shackle. He could seriously hurt you or even kill you easily enough now that he had you in his hold like this. You knew that perfectly well and you brace yourself for the pin to drop but then, to your growing astonishment, Scar merely tugs you to your feet with a truly unexpected amount of gentleness. 

Honestly you hadn’t thought him capable of such care, but he shows you none of that now familiar manic glee or the thirst for destruction you’d glimpsed once before as he pulls you towards him. His eyes remain locked on your face, unreadable beyond the soft note of satisfaction that creeps into them when he takes half a step back so he can guide you up onto the bank with him. The ground is hard and chilly under your feet yet you hardly notice it at all, so highly tuned in to the man standing before you that you don’t even give it more than a passing thought. 

The sun has almost completely set, you abruptly realize as the two of you come to a halt, the last few lingering remnants of day quickly fading under the encroaching gloom of twilight. Shadows play at his face, further highlighting the intensity behind his eyes when he looks at you, plain and unguarded. There’s something else shining in them too. A silent, wordless plea or perhaps an oath. 

It was almost as foolish as your plan to lure your stalkers out of hiding using your own body as bait, and yet you felt strangely inclined to trust him at his word. Scar would behave himself as long as you gave him the chance he seemed to want so bad, of that you were sure. He’d even said as much to you before, back in that village, hadn’t he? That he wasn’t going to make you hate him just yet. And you didn’t. Not really. You were understandably cautious of him and his motives, and the power you suspected he’d only shown you a very small fraction of, but he hadn’t given you a real reason to consider him your enemy. Perhaps he would in due time, when this tentative and shaky truce between you and him reached its breaking point, but for now at least it couldn’t hurt to hear him out again. 

Could it? 

“There.” He says, pinning you with a pleased little smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Thank you.” 

“There’s no need for formalities between us, Rover. Don’t thank me. Just accept me and what I can give you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him in warning, you make a halfhearted attempt to tug your hand from his and it really doesn’t come as much of a shock when he refuses to let you go. But in the spirit of playing nice you quickly give up without a fuss, simply resigning yourself to the fact that he was going to continue to hold on until he was good and ready to release you. If such a time ever even came. “You know I can’t blindly do that. You haven’t given me a good reason to trust you yet.” 

“Ooh, are you getting impatient with me, darling? I told you I’d show you my sincerity, didn’t I?” Taking another backwards step, he slowly pulls you further away from the river and you complacently allow it because … you’re actually not sure why you do it.

For all intents and purposes you should have been wrenching away from him and the suggestion of heat you can feel even through his glove. You should have been lurching for your sword, or at least your clothes, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you shuffle after him and tip your head back to look up at his face, searching for any signs that might indicate his next move. Scar was far too unpredictable to even guess at his thoughts, his inner workings and motives a complete and total mystery to you even now, but his actions were a slightly different story. 

Although still sporadic and off kilter, you can see the intent in his body language before he does it and you instinctively brace when his opposite hand reaches out for you. All he does is touch you with it though, the gesture somehow halting and possessive at the same time when he carefully palms over your bare hip. Like he was testing the waters, you realize, but he was a bit too eager to truly be cautious about it. 

Looking really quite pleased when you neither slap at him or squawk in indignation, he lets his hand settle into place with a vague squeeze to the plushy curve. That implausible heat coming off of him immediately settles into the skin and starts to warm you from the inside out, just like he’d promised he would, and you suck in a shuddering breath of relief. It felt good after the chill of the river. 

“You’re so soft, Rover. I like that.” 

Perfectly casual about it, you drop your attention down the front of him to regard the black zipper on his suit. “And you look rather hard where I’m standing.” You murmur, earning another low chuckle from him. 

“Mmm, is that so? And do you like it?” 

Steeling your courage and resolve, you bring your gaze back up to his. “Scar, this is … I’m willing to talk to you but I think this might be a step too far. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head, puppy-like both in the gesture itself and in the way he seems to be hanging off your every word with that sappy expression plastered across his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think you were the instigator here and he the hapless victim being coerced. It was so ass backwards it bordered on laughable. 

“Aw, come on. What do you mean? I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. Should I prostrate myself at your feet and swear a solemn oath to make you believe me?” 

“It’s not exactly that, just … we’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? Or something like that, at least.” 

A quick laugh huffs out of him to accompany the slow shake of his head. “That’s certainly what they want you to think, isn’t it?” 

You lift your brows in question but he decides to forgo a proper answer and silently drags his palm up along your side to cradle around your waist instead. Static electricity rushes along the path his hand took and you almost find yourself swaying unsteadily on your feet at the sheer magnitude of that electrical current. You were starting to understand now. What made this truly dangerous wasn’t just the opposing sides and their ideals, the life or death battle you might someday have to face off against him in or even anything as grand as the fate of this world. It was so harrowing because the chemistry was very much there and it was real. He knew it too. Had likely known it long before he’d actually appeared before you in that abandoned village. The only real question was; would it be enough to truly sway you? 

You’re not quite ready to give up the ghost just yet, you decide, and yet you don’t fight it when he finally releases your hand so he can slide his other palm around your middle as well. He simply holds you in place like that for a drawn out moment, peering down at you with an expression just short of dopey, like he was committing every inch of you to memory. The complexion of your skin, the size and shape of your breasts and the tightly coiled peaks standing up on them. Any blemishes, beauty marks or scars are laid bare before him and yet nothing seems to give him pause or dissuade his interest. And you’re suddenly acutely aware that that’s exactly what it is too. Real, genuine, vibrating interest in you. It was — very close to being overwhelming, having someone look at you like that. 

But then he leans in, bending at the waist so he can close the gap between your height and his, and you’re so sure he’s about to kiss you that you turn your face away to deter him. But all he does is chuckle at the reaction, smoothly tucking his nose in behind your ear where he proceeds to take a deep, savory inhale to taste the scent of you without missing a beat. A sensitive shudder works up your spine and you almost whimper at the sudden, potent flood of molten heat that sweeps through you in a rush. This was really bad. 

“Just relax, Rover.” He drawls, warm breath tickling along the side of your neck. “I won’t force myself on you like some kind of animal or try to make you take responsibility for what you do to me. Ahh, and you do drive me crazy, make no mistake about that. But that’s not your burden to bear, is it? I know it’s not your fault.” 

“Of course it’s not. I never intentionally tried to lead you on so there’s nothing to take responsibility for.” You just barely manage to whisper, struggling to stay grounded in reality when every fiber of your being wanted to give itself over to the temptation he offered. It was crazy and stupid, and so incredibly ill-advised, but with each passing second you were finding it harder and harder to keep up the pretense. More than anything you wanted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit he was holding out to you in humble supplication, a placating offering as much as it was a consecrated sacrifice. 

No, you didn’t just want it. You needed to devour it, every last morsel and crumb until there was nothing left except the smoldering, charred ash of that which had once been. It felt like you were going mad and having him in such terribly close proximity like this was not helping your resolve in the slightest. 

“Hah. Well said, my dear. You certainly are sharp.” Straightening up so he can look you in the face, Scar lets his mouth stretch into a victorious, slashing grin when he sees the way you shudder at the loss of his body heat, mistaking it for something it’s not. “Ooh, but don’t be nervous. I’m a man of my word, you know. You’re safe with me. Much safer than you are with those useless Jinzhou dogs. You can trust me, Rover. I only want to show you exactly where my loyalties lie, that’s all. You’ll let me do that much, won’t you?” 

You send him a slow look of confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re even talking about. What do you mean by that?” You really don’t understand half of the things that come out of his mouth. He was loyal to Fractsidus, wasn’t he? 

But Scar once again chooses not to provide you with a proper explanation, which you probably should have been accustomed to by now. You were beginning to suspect that this was all too commonplace for him and you almost struggle against it when he uses his hold on your waist to gently nudge you into turning around. The way he tauntingly coos at you under his breath is shamefully persuasive though and you soon give in, spinning in place like an obedient if not begrudging little thing until you’ve fully turned your back on him. 

It was an exceedingly foolish decision to make. He could have easily grabbed you around the throat and squeezed until your airway was crushed, or even snap your neck with very little effort to show for it. You should have known better. You did know better. 

Yet neither of those things happen. 

Instead of ending you right then and there, you feel Scar shift behind you and bend close. The ends of his hair brush against the nape of your neck just so, seconds before he places a brief, lingering kiss to the jut of your shoulder. You startle at the contact but he doesn’t seem to pay it any mind other than a short lived, savory laugh at your expense. 

Following the gently sloping line of your shoulder, he gradually makes his way up to the base of your neck one lingering peck at a time, then higher still to ghost over your quickened pulse. Through it all his hands remain stationary around your waist, neither demanding reciprocatory attention from you nor roaming about to explore your body any further than what he could touch with his mouth. He just holds you in place, cradling you there against him. It’s not exactly what you would have expected from someone like him, someone who seemed perfectly content to just take whatever he wanted without remorse; and you have to suck in a slow, faltering breath to steady yourself when he works his way back, starting to kiss a hot path down the curve of your spine now.

Mouthing at the center line of your body, Scar hunches even closer so he can continue down between your shoulderblades, charting a steady and unhurried path towards your waist. You aren’t entirely sure what to make of it but quickly decide that you don’t hate what he’s doing enough to put a stop to it. His hands did feel good on your skin, and so did his coarse lips. Perhaps you were too easily swayed but that was a problem for you to sort out and unpack another day. You certainly didn’t have the time or the brain power for it right now. 

Especially not when, without so much as a word of warning or an explanation to go with it, you feel him drop to his knees behind you. It’s unmistakable, from the distinct sound of his long coat hitting the ground to the way his denser frame goes from looming right behind you one moment to being about level with your hips the next. The suddenness of it makes your heart lodge itself in your throat, and you let out a small squeak of surprise as you half twist around to look back at him. 

“H - hey, what do you think you’re doing?” 

As expected, you find him peering up at you from where he’s knelt in the dirt with those big, soft eyes he only ever seems to make at you. It was as absurd as it was disconcerting, and you absolutely hate the way it causes your resolve to weaken even more. He looked good down there, you’re more than just a bit horrified to realize. Almost too good for you to keep pretending like you didn’t want to continue on in this manner with him. 

“Hush, Rover. You want proof, don’t you? You want a reason to trust me? Then let me give you one.” 

“I don’t really see how - -“

You cut yourself off with a sharp, harried gasp when his hands abruptly start to move. First they slide forward to tauntingly rake down your front, leaving the faintest sting of scratch marks across your stomach before dragging back around to possessively paw over the curve of your hips. He pauses there to give you a tight squeeze, nails sinking into flesh but not quite breaking the skin yet. The threat of it is there though. That silent promise that he could easily tear into you if he really wanted to sobers you slightly, but he doesn’t do it. Instead he just eases up his hold on you enough to palm over your thighs, down and then straight up the backs of them until his splayed fingers finally press into the underside of your ass. 

Heat immediately rushes into your face when understanding dawns but he doesn’t grant you enough time to protest before he’s cupping both cheeks to knead and lift the weight of them. You shuffle your feet, embarrassed, but even trying to angle yourself away from him does very little to deter Scar from his goal. He just pinches your backside in a tighter hold, letting out an appreciative, rumbling sigh as he slowly spreads your ass open to expose you to his voracious and hungry gaze. 

You suddenly feel extremely lightheaded. And not only because of the first waft of cool air against your most private of areas but also the innate knowledge that he was looking at you completely uninterrupted like this. The pudgy seam of your cunt, the tight pucker of your asshole. All was laid bare when Scar was holding you spread open like that and the fact his face was only mere inches away didn’t help the self conscious siren that goes off in the back of your mind either. Your one and only consolation in such a deeply humiliating situation is that you were fresh out of a bath and as clean as one could possibly get when they were washing up in a river, which you certainly hoped was clean enough given the circumstances. 

“You … I thought you said you weren’t a pervert earlier?” 

He offers up a soft laugh at that, his warm breath once again fanning across your skin, except this time it suggestively tickles over  … 

“Oh, but I didn’t say that now did I, darling? I merely told you that I wouldn’t tolerate any other perverts getting off because of you. I never claimed to be a virtuous saint myself.” 

The suggestion of that alone is downright comedic but you can’t quite find the wherewithal to laugh about it right now. Not when you were focusing the vast majority of your energy on simply staying upright and balanced while also doing your best to keep your legs pressed together at the same time, hoping to preserve at least some of your remaining dignity. 

But it was an awkward and uncertain stance to take, and it leaves you swaying almost dizzily on your feet even as you reach back to blindly swat at his head. You’re well aware that you really ought to have been shoving him away, kicking and swinging at him in a flurry of righteous indignation. Unfortunately your heart just really wasn’t in it though. Your lack of conviction didn’t make it any less embarrassing, being spread and ogled like that, but there wasn't much you could do about it when your body starts to respond in kind. You were getting excited. Damn him. 

In the end all you succeed in doing is fruitlessly smacking at the side of his head, yet he still lets out a rumbling sound of encouragement in response. Like he wouldn’t have minded it much if you’d put more intent behind it, and you just quietly seethe through your teeth in response. 

Fumbling to get your hand up again, you mercilessly shove it into his hair and close a tight first at the root so you can yank his head back, putting at least some space between you and him. Twisting around at the same time, you pin Scar with an incredulous, flustered look. “Are you serious? This is the big ace up your sleeve? There’s no way you actually think that’s going to work!”  

Noising a brief, decidedly unbothered sound of agreement, Scar makes a show of licking his lips before tipping his neck back to nudge into your fist. That tawdry motion just further exposes the jagged Tacet Mark carved across his throat and draws your attention to it even when you try to ignore its exigent pull. The picture he paints kneeling there on the ground is lurid and provocative, off putting and yet tantalizing in the worst possible way. Inviting, almost. 

And it works. God help you but it achieves exactly what it was likely meant to, and a warm pulse starts up between your legs with a slow, anticipatory clench. He was sick, no doubt about that, but so were you for humoring him like this in as much as you have. 

“You’re right. I don’t actually think this is going to sway you over to our side or even make for a very convincing argument when all is said and done. I might be crazy but I’m not stupid.”

At your bewildered look, he chuckles a low sound under his breath. 

“I already said it once before, didn’t I? You’re smart, Rover, and I’m well aware just how smart you really are. If something as simple as this was actually enough to convince you then I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to talk to you up to this point, now would I?” He goes on, imploringly tipping his head to the side and half dragging your hand along with it where you were still gripping onto his hair. “Just believe me for once, won’t you? I really meant it when I said to put everything else aside for the moment. This is just about you and me right now. Forget about sides and factions, and all their troublesome rules. None of that matters here as far as I’m concerned. I only wish to show you that I’ve been nothing if not sincere this whole time and perhaps even earn myself a sliver of your trust while I’m at it.”

You swallow hard when his fingers idly dig into you with a palpitating squeeze, sharp nails threatening to cut and render flesh. He doesn’t do it though. Whether that’s because he knew doing so wouldn’t earn him any favors in your book or because he simply wouldn’t do it to you, it’s impossible to say. But the fact he refrains, regardless of the reason why, goes a long way in assuring you that this wasn’t going to end in a bloody showdown. And if it would get him to stop holding your cheeks open any quicker then you were willing to go along with it. 

“Fine. I’m listening.” 

A gravelly, almost animalistic sound rises from him at your acquiescence and you watch in something not unlike fascination as his expression shifts, discarding that big eyed puppy dog look in favor of something much more rapacious. Eyes sharpening with an edge of that familiar manic glee, Scar roves his attention back down to regard the shameful spread of your body. His hands adjust, loosening and then tightening in a better grip around the meat of your ass so he can give it an appreciative, taunting jostle. You whimper softly in the back of your throat and tip forward on your toes, trying to stamp down the urge to start squirming. It was very hard not to do when he was staring at you like that, with only a short few inches separating his nose from your vulnerable groin. 

But you don’t pull away or move to stop it as he leans in to deliver a soft, fleeting peck to the meat of one cheek before turning his head so he can do the same to the other. There’s a note of unmistakable reverence in the way he kisses your body, like you were communion and holy relic all wrapped into one. It might have been flattering, it may have even gone to your head and inflated your ego under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you stark naked out in the wilderness with a man who was supposed to be your enemy prostrating himself at your feet like an altar. You’re deeply frazzled by the whole thing, not having expected this particular outcome when you’d decided to take his extended hand. 

That flustered, jittery nerves feeling only grows stronger when he pecks his way up to the starting seam of your backside, kissing at the top and then slowly working his way down that naturally formed line. You realize what he’s aiming for perhaps a little too late and you suck in a sharp breath of surprise as his lips press into the tight pucker of your hole. Startled goosebumps erupt all over your skin to accompany the soft mewl you involuntarily let out, rocking unsteadily on your feet, but he seems not to pay it any mind. 

Just lingering there with his mouth pressed right up against your asshole, Scar issues a quiet groan that seems to reverberate and echo through you a million times over. Your own excitement quickly starts to climb, the sensation of eager slick forming at the proper entrance of your cunt prompting you to cautiously inch your legs apart in hopes of inviting him to direct his attention lower. 

But of course that doesn’t work. Scar was the farthest thing from cooperative even when he was putting on a show and insisting he was a good boy — would be a good boy for you if only you’d give him the chance. It was laughable in retrospect and you probably should have seen this coming considering who you were dealing with. Yet you just hiss like a spitting, incensed cat, neither trying to swat him away or extricate yourself from his hold when he purses his lips, kissing at your hole before opening his mouth wide and then sealing it over your entrance. 

The first meaty wet swipe of his tongue flicking out over the wrinkled pucker in a broad swipe makes you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Trembling from your head straight down to your toes, your hand comes up to press over your mouth and silence the truly embarrassing sounds that were trying to crawl their way out of your constricting throat. To be looked at there was already bad enough, but being licked was somehow even worse. And the fact he does it without shame or even any remorse only seems to highlight your own pinpoint self-conscious reaction. 

You shift to the side, hoping to dissuade him, and he just follows you. Presses his face more firmly into the space between your cheeks and delivers a wet, smacking slurp to your ass before pulling back a fraction of an inch. Letting out a heady sound that falters at the tail end and peters out into a hungry moan of pleasure, Scar quickly shoves his mouth up against you again and he’s right back at it. His surprisingly supple lips eagerly locate that tight pucker so he can kiss it deeply, encouraging your body to respond. 

And it does, with truly startling results. Not only was your cunt starting to weep in sympathetic pleasure, becoming soft and sticky for him, but your hole also begins to puff up under the periodic suction he applies to it. The feeling is a strange one, not exactly pleasurable in the strictest sense, but there’s no denying the effect it has on you when the physical proof was so obvious and stark. 

Choking on a half strangled noise, you twist your upper body around and reach back to snag another fistful of his hair. You were torn between either shoving him away or pulling him further in against you, but you finally settle on gritting out a soft, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing that …” 

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, not the halfhearted tug you give to his hair, and he laughs a thick, deeply masculine sound into the scant space. “And yet you’re happily letting me do it, Rover! Funny how that works, isn’t it?” 

A fresh flood of heat spills into your face but you couldn’t exactly deny it or say it wasn’t the truth. You were allowing this to happen. It didn’t really matter if it was vaguely mortifying, having someone lick you in such a personal and private spot, because you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Even you were a bit surprised at your own lack of protest but fine, if that was how he wanted to play this game then so be it. 

Decisively, you shove your discomfort and uncertainty aside. Quickly readjust your hold on Scar’s haphazard shock of hair, get a better grip on it and then pull him back up against you again. That he allows it, simply rocking forward on his knees to let you guide him straight back into the cradle of your backside surprises you slightly, but in reality it probably shouldn’t have. He was quite clearly a shameless, unapologetic heathen of the worst kind, and if this went on for much longer there seemed a high probability that he was going to start rubbing off on you too. He already was, in a way. 

Because you find yourself arching your back and jutting your ass up a bit higher, pushing into him. It’s supposed to be petty and maybe just a little bit mean but he only laughs out another half smothered sound before tipping his head so he can seal his lips over your asshole more securely than before. His tongue mercilessly lashes out to lap across the dip in the center and coat you in an obscene amount of drool that slowly drips down and off his chin. But if he’s at all concerned about how messily he’s eating you out he certainly doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it as far as you can tell, and you soon find that you’re choking on a sharp inhale when he directs his tongue to the middle of your slackening pucker. 

Poking, prodding and teasing at it, he takes a moment to just taunt you with the suggestion before at last pressing the fleshy wet tip into you. Your body rejects it at first, clenching tight to keep him out, but the loosened state of the muscle quickly gives way when he worms his tongue right into the vulnerable center to just dip inside the rim. The sensation rips an undignified squeal out of you, every single hair follicle suddenly standing on end as you rock forward with such a powerful jolt that you almost tip yourself off balance. 

Scar is quick, however, and he unlatches his clawed fingers from the death grip he’s had on your cheeks in favor of reaching up to anchor around your waist instead. You’re not entirely sure if his intention had been to steady you or to stop you from escaping, but you still breathe out a terse sigh of relief anyway. 

His hold on you quickly proves more of a curse than a blessing though, and that relief promptly morphs into mute horror when he uses your love handles to yank you back against him. You almost stumble and fall, blindly reaching down to latch onto his blocky wrists, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He just keeps tugging on your hips until he’s got you effectively straddling his face, all but sitting on him now. That just leaves you desperately trying to find some semblance of balance in such an awkward, bow legged position and you almost don’t succeed. 

“Hold on! Y - you don’t need to do that, I’m not going anywhere!” 

His response is completely muffled to the point of being unintelligible, effectively lost under the weight of your ass (forcibly) settling on top of his mouth. Your face feels hot enough to catch fire as you unsteadily glance down at where his hands are squeezing deep gouges into the meat around your middle and your wide splayed legs. Your toes just barely manage to touch the ground and find some semblance of stability like this, bare feet bracketing his pelvis and effectively drawing your attention to the demanding tent behind his front zipper. The sight of it makes your eyes go big and round, and very nearly stops you in your tracks. If you’d thought he looked hard before, he was downright galvanized now. You almost couldn’t believe it. 

Scar was really enjoying this that much? 

He shifts underneath you then, ripping you from your gobsmacked thoughts when he rolls his tongue up against your hole and begins to prod at its center again. Seething, you give a weak little jerk in an attempt to dislodge yourself from his grasp but it’s no use. He’s horribly sturdy under you, even with the majority of your weight balancing on his nose, and you quickly realize that you have no chance of getting yourself free at this point. Damn him. 

“Seriously,” You groan, impatiently sucking on your teeth. “If you’re so determined to do this then … at least lick more towards the front while you’re down there.” 

His responding chuckle jostles you slightly but you don’t find anything about this particularly funny. Not when you were effectively trapped in a balancing act and just the briefest loss of focus seemed like it would send you sprawling out on the ground, and probably take him right along with you. Scar may have been unexpectedly strong given his lithe, largely compact frame but he was hardly in any position to catch you when he himself was bent back at an angle meant to accommodate your height. He wasn’t that much bigger than you, in truth. It was in part what had made fighting him before not seem like such an insurmountable feat when you’d already fought monsters that were at least double his size many times before. 

But he doesn’t seem like he’s only a little bit taller than you and only a little bit wider when he somewhat roughly manhandles you further back until you can feel his coarse lips brushing just over the seam of your cunt. You outright gasp at the sensation of sticky slick smearing against his chin and his mouth, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him any more than the spit had. And now that he’s found a pocket of empty space between your thighs, he laughs. Low and seedy, thickened with something dark that you dare not name, the sound of it sending a reverb of excited tremors racing through your system. 

“Ooooh, little lamb,” He chortles, seemingly torn between moaning in pleasure or cackling in delight. “All you had to do was ask! I told you, didn’t I? I’m doing this for you. Everything has always been for you! If you want this sweet little pussy of yours ate then that is exactly what you’ll get!” 

The intensity in his voice, the strength of conviction in that declaration, makes something uneasy curl inside of you. You’d almost forgotten he was crazy. A maniac and a twisted sadist, according to Yangyang, and of which you had no doubt. Your guard had been lowered far too much, you quickly decide — but when you try to dismount from him, in earnest this time, Scar merely tightens his hold around your waist. It’s easy enough for him to keep you in place when you couldn’t quite find enough traction to kick off from the ground, and all you can do is let out a low, keening mewl as he tugs you down to close that hair's breadth gap between his mouth and your cunt. 

All at once his lips are suddenly on you, kissing and nipping at sensitive skin while his tongue intermittently lashes out to taste you. He’s more like a starved beast than a man in that moment as he laps up slick and eager juices with a hungry voracity, pressing so deeply into you that you’re not quite certain how he isn't suffocating himself like this. You’re hardly in any position to worry about that right now though, your heart hammering out a wild rhythm against your ribcage as you precariously teeter there and viciously dig your nails into his forearms in a desperate bid to keep yourself upright. You aren’t sure what kind of material his suit is made out of but all it does is softly creak under the force of your grip and you never break the skin below no matter how hard you try.

But Scar doesn’t even seem to feel it at all, much too preoccupied with working his mouth further up your cunt so he can locate the delicate pleasure button nestled within. And his tongue is like a maddened serpent, aggressively spearing through soft, satiny creases and folds until he at last knocks against the spot that makes you involuntarily jolt. You freeze on top of him, startled at the intense sensation that zaps through you all at once, and he huffs out a victorious breath against your pussy. 

Tongue curling out and up, he presses it flat over the apex of your slit and almost leisurely undulates the wet muscle to massage at that hypersensitive spot. Your breath snags, making you sway in a dizzy, lightheaded swoon. It nearly catches you off guard how good it actually feels. All warm and sticky, soft and yet the pressure is applied firmly enough to make your thighs quake around his head. The building pressure in your loins abruptly doubles and then triples, eagerly gushing yet more arousal to coat his face. It wasn’t just pleasurable, it was downright exquisite. 

“Ohh! That’s … oooh, Scar! Right there!”

He hums a faint sound of acknowledgment, the resulting pulse running through your cunt to make the nerve endings tingle. You don’t have to see his expression to know he’s quite pleased to hear you moaning his name like that. In fact you’re certain he’s very smug about it, the bastard. He probably thinks he’s won, that his gambit had actually worked and you would be persuaded by his poor excuse for charm. If you’d had the oxygen for it, you would have laughed. 

Unfortunately he’s a little too good at eating you out and the ministrations of his tongue effectively rob you of the ability to breathe. It’s hard just to think.  All you can do is softly wheeze, struggling to keep your weight centered in the middle, but that too has its own drawbacks as well. 

Perched over his mouth like this there’s very little wriggle room for you to lift up and give yourself any reprieve from what he’s doing. Gravity just forces you down and the need for stability keeps you still, which leaves your pussy resting flush with his tongue. There was no escaping it even if you’d wanted to, and your hips give a tiny, restless nudge to grind against him when the internal pressure rapidly swells. 

Luckily he takes that as his cue to stop fooling around and he sets in to attack your clit in earnest now. His tongue curls back to zero in on it, swirling the fleshy nub with tight, narrow circles to knock it from all sides before flattening the wet muscle. The way he proceeds to grind into that receptive bundle of nerves sends intense, shuddering shockwaves throughout your body and you awkwardly arch to jut your tits up into the air. Scar’s hold on you doesn’t so much as falter no matter how hard you shake though, which is a relief as much as it is a horrifying thought in the back of your cotton stuffed mind. You were more certain than ever now that he’d taken it easy on you back when you’d fought in his Elysium dimension. 

It was obvious that he hadn’t really wanted to hurt you back there when he so clearly could have but then … why? Why did he want you so much that he was even willing to go this far? 

“Nnghhn, please Scar … I don’t know how much longer I can stay like this! Just — put me down!”  

He issues a faint growl in response, one that you think is meant to tell you to forget about it. But then, to your reeling surprise, his hands carefully push you forward a step so that you can slide off his face and settle more squarely on your feet. A trembling sigh of relief shudders out of you even as his palms drag back over your hips to squeeze the meat of your backside and spread you open again. Whimpering at the rush of cool air that comes in to waft over your cunt and emphasize just how much of a sticky mess he’s made of you, you gratefully sink down to kneel on the ground and settle between his spread knees. 

The muscles in your thighs are very grateful for the break and it doesn’t come as much of a shock when he simply follows after you, huffing a gruff sound as his hands descend upon your ass. His vibrating, almost jittery excitement is nearly palpable, almost perfectly mirroring yours, and you don’t protest when he roughly pushes you forward to elevate your lower half, angling your cunt right up at him. 

“Fuck, just look at that pretty pussy. You’re perfect, Rover. I want to lay the whole world at your feet, entire kingdoms and dynasties reduced to ash, but even that wouldn’t be enough. You deserve to have it all. Everything you could ever want, anything at all, and only I can give it to you. I’m the one you should choose!” 

“What I really want right now is for you to shut up.” You murmur, rocking back into him with a pointed nudge. “Be quiet and finish what you started, Scar.” 

“Oooho, and it would be my pleasure.” He snickers, the undeniable amusement in his voice commingling with something much darker, more primal. It sounds like the husk of a death rattle, almost, but you don’t get the chance to linger on that thought. 

He’s bending close again to put his mouth on the fleshy seam of your body but this time you don’t have gravity working against you, forcing you to stay still and complacent. Moaning softly, you arch your back to better present your cunt to him and he takes a quick, appreciative swipe along your slit in response. Then he’s tonguing you open, working messy folds and creases apart so he can slip inside pudgy lips and find that thrumming nerve cluster again. You outright choke when he knocks it, pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as stars erupt across your vision. 

Your fingers dig into the ground underneath you as you allow yourself to stiffly relax into the blinding onslaught of sensation that comes with him eating you out from the back. He’s just as enthusiastic and borderline aggressive about it as he’d been when you were all but sitting on his face. You were starting to realize now that this was just his default setting and he didn’t seem to know anything else or how to tone it down. It was something you’d likely have to work with him on, if you decided to humor this absurdity beyond just this one unexpected encounter. 

And given how talented he was with his mouth, you were feeling oddly inclined to keep this shaky truce going. 

“Ohh! God, you’re a messy eater …” 

Laughing a brief sound, Scar seals his lips over your pulsing clit and gives it a surprisingly gentle suck, almost as if in way of an apology. You didn’t believe that for one second though. He didn’t seem the type who was ever sorry about much of anything, but certainly not something like this. 

Seething through your teeth, you stiffly lower your front closer to the ground so you can nudge your cunt further into his mouth, encouraging him to keep going. And he does, but not without giving your clit one last savory, lip smacking slurp. You sensitively jerk at the sound, internally wincing, but he’s already unlatching himself so he can press his tongue into that meaty little nub and trace nonsensical patterns over it, dragging it back and forth, back and forth. Up and then down. 

Your thighs quickly start to shake when the bubbling pressure in your loins rapidly swells with his ministrations, edging so close to the precipice that you can all but taste it in the back of your tongue. Mewling as quietly as you can manage, you numbly reach up with one hand to cup your own breast in a blind fumble. The gesture was perfunctory at best when you were already inching dangerously close to release but your fingers still distractedly tweak over the nipple anyway. It’s stiff and aching, and the idle stimulation just rushes straight to your gushing cunt. You were so close. 

“Ooohhnnghh … keep going. Just like that.”

Shaking his head almost like a wet, mangy stray, Scar nuzzles further into you and settles somehow even deeper into your pussy. He opens his mouth wide, the drag of his rough lips against you making you shudder seconds before he presses his tongue flush to your slit and drags it straight up through your labia. Following the naturally formed crease, he dips right over your entrance and then higher still to take another sticky lap at your asshole. Your breath catches at the sensation, eyes staring wide and unseeing at the spot where your unoccupied hand is splayed out on the ground. He doesn’t pause long enough for you to tell him to knock it off though, and all you can do is let out a startled groan when he rudely shoves his tongue into your ass so he can fuck you with it. 

Your teeth clench tightly at the static shock that rushes through you, absolutely hating the way the muscles in your lower half weakly pulse in response to the intrusion. His hands, so big and warm, possessively groping at your backside prove equally distracting, especially when he pinches and spreads you open again, making it even easier for his tongue to spear past the loosened ring. You’d never felt anything like it before, had never imagined it would feel this good, and you finally let out a hiccuping sob of frustration when the first real warning tremor makes you seize. 

“Scar, please!” 

Groaning a wild, animalistic sound, the Fractisdus Overseer pulls back and slides his squirming tongue from your hole. He pauses just long enough to deliver one more smacking peck to the loosened and puffed up rim before kissing his way back down your cunt, nosing at you as he goes. 

It was hard to reject the idea that he was very much like a dog after all, albeit an aggressive and untamed one; but a dog nonetheless when he was so shameless about the whole thing. Clearly it didn’t matter which part of your body it was or how much of a mess he made in the process. Like some deep seeded, primal urge was spurring him on, he operated with one goal and one goal only in mind, and that seemed to be the simple need to get as close to you as he physically could. Almost like he was scenting you, or perhaps coating himself in your smell. Both seemed equally likely. 

But if that really was his goal then it was certainly working. There was so much accumulated slick and spit coating your pussy that when he presses into you again a soft, wet squelch rings through the air. Your toes instinctively curl as if in preparation, as if you were bracing yourself for something much bigger to nudge at your entrance and push in, but all that slots against you is Scar’s nose while his mouth settles back over your clit. He licks you with broad, steady strokes of the muscle for a moment but quickly switches gears to flicking it back and forth, battering at that fleshy little nub with a single mindedness that almost makes you go cross eyed. The pleasure is so immediate and so intense that you give a violent jerk, hand falling away from your breast to smack against the ground and gouge your nails into the cool earth. It’s suddenly ten times harder to draw a full breath than it was only a moment ago and, hips juddering, you rear back on his face with a wounded, faltering bleat of pleasure. 

And the chord snaps, just like that. It’s so sudden that it catches you unawares and you lurch, letting out a series of half stifled yet frantic gasps as the spasms of release hit you full force. But he keeps you pressed right up against him no matter how much you buck or twist, his hold on your hips downright painful now. Sharp fingertips dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to draw little pinpricks of blood. The distant nick of inhuman claws slowly sinking into flesh serves as a constant reminder of just how dangerous this was for you, a tiny distant voice in the back of your head saying ‘I told you so’, and yet you can’t quite find it in you to care very much about that right now. 

Not when you were soaring on a high so exquisitely satisfying it makes the backs of your eyes sting with sensitive tears. Luridly moaning now, you quake through the rest of your orgasm and savor the blinding starbursts that shoot off inside you in quick, pulsating succession. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably against his face, practically drowning him with arousal, but Scar just keeps lapping at you throughout the height of your pleasure until you finally start to come down from it an extended beat later, piece by excruciating piece. 

It’s only when your breathy groans start to take on a dire, vaguely frazzled edge does he at last pull away with a thick growl of his own. You feel him lean back then, giving you some much needed space, and you gratefully blow out a spent exhale of relief even as he starts to busy himself with using both hands to knead at your upturned ass. If it kept him content for the time being then you were fine with it. You desperately needed a chance to ground and reorient before dealing with him any further. 

Which you would. Very soon, once you got your breathing back under control. 

Honestly you hadn’t expected him to be good at that at all, let alone that good. 

“Oh, Rover,” He sighs out, almost dreamy and punchdrunk, the sound of his rough hewn voice drawing you out of your reverie. “I do hope you enjoyed that half as much as I did but I’d be happy to give you an encore if you’re still not quite satisfied yet. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever it is you want ~”

“Tch. I bet you’d like that.” 

“I would.” Scar readily agrees, giving your ass a slow, anticipatory pinch, and you volley right back with a low scoff in return. 

Gathering yourself together, you carefully push up and twist to glance back at him with what you hope is an unamused look. Somehow you’re not the least bit surprised to find his lips and cheeks damp with a vague sheen you can just make out under the moonlight, bits of hair sticking to his forehead where he’d gotten a little too messy with it. He looked like a wet dream come to life, if you were being honest, but no way in hell were you about to tell him that.

“You sure are confident. Who’s to say I even liked the first round enough to go another with you? Maybe once was enough.” 

“Aww, don’t say that. I know it’s not true, for starters. I have the evidence to prove that all over my face, don’t I?” He lets his mouth curl into a lazy but no less smug smirk, very much looking like a mischievous feline who’s eaten one too many canary’s. “Besides, you were certainly moaning my name in the most deliciously sweet voice only a few minutes ago. You don’t have to be shy with me, little lamb. Enjoying it isn’t a bad thing and it also doesn’t make you any less fierce in my eyes.” 

“What do you want me to say to that? Should I thank you for it?” 

A short lived laugh makes his shoulders rise and then fall. “No, not at all. That’s not what I want to hear right now.” 

“Then what do you expect from me?” 

“I want you to say you’ll be mine.” 

The candid way he says it surprises you a great deal and you quickly shrug off your own satiated afterglow to look at him. Really look at him this time. It was still the same man you’d met in that abandoned village, still the same person who’d forcibly separated you from Yangyang before hand feeding you clues through a dark tale of sacrificial sheep and shepherds. His eyes had lost that sharp, manic tinged edge though and he was now intently watching you with a noticeable fondness reflected in his expression. It softened his whole face and made him look nearly boyish. Unassuming, in a way. 

You’d almost forgotten your earlier revelation, that he seemed truly interested in you and not necessarily what you were. Granted you hadn’t quite figured what that was yet but … 

“Why do you want me so bad, Scar? There must be a reason.” 

He gives his head a slow shake, trying to stifle a fresh peel of laughter. “There are many reasons to want you, Rover. Don’t underestimate or sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. I’ve been certain of it since the moment you woke up here. More importantly though, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re one I’ve been waiting for. Can’t you feel it too?” 

You send him a quizzical frown but it’s obvious he isn’t going to elaborate any further than that. It’s clear in the way he just tips his head to the side, peering over at you with a sense of peace bred from reverence, or something close to it. Almost like … it was almost like being in close proximity with you had a calming effect that helped chase away at least some of the madness for a time. He didn’t look crazy to you in that moment. If anything you almost got the sense that he was so painfully sincere that it bordered on fanatical, as if you could do no wrong in his eyes and there was no low he wouldn’t sink to if you asked it of him. 

Perhaps his demonstration had accomplished what it was meant to then, because you believed him. Against your better judgment and common sense, you were now certain that he at least fully believed what he was saying so you had no choice but to believe it too. He probably didn’t deserve your pity if even only half of the things you’d heard were true and yet … 

Finally letting out a slow breath through your nose, you lift your hand and reach back to gently touch his shoulder. At your careful push, he leans further back, letting his hands fall from your ass to rest in his lap instead. You’re not entirely sure why you do it but, swallowing down your nerves, you go up on your knees so that you can kneel between the spread of his legs and then lean into him. 

Scar blinks at you, clearly surprised, but he doesn’t pull away or protest when you get right up in his face. He just tips his mouth towards you, those mismatched eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity that probably would have stopped a lesser person in their tracks. You’re decidedly lacking in self preservation tonight though because it doesn’t even give you pause, and you simply press your mouth to his in a lingering, featherlight kiss. 

A sudden puff of air escapes him in a rush at the contact, even for as brief as it is, and sends a static jolt through the both of you. Your pussy gives a muted, distant flutter of interest at the soft whimper he noises, sounding so needy and tender that it almost shatters your resolve. But you manage to cling to it somehow, determined only to get him back for the mess he’s made of you and nothing more. It was probably a bad idea to get any more tangled up with him than you already were. 

No, it was definitely a bad idea. Possibly even the worst one you’d ever flirted with. 

But that knowledge doesn’t stop you from following through on this impulsive decision, and you soon disengage from him so you can shuffle further back into the space between his legs. A quick glance over your shoulder shows him just as hard as he’d been the last time you’d looked, the strain of his erection making the black zipper protrude from the rest of his slate-gray bodysuit and rumple the curious fabric in the most fascinating of ways. You could feel more than just a passing interest solidifying in the back of your mind and you were awfully tempted to throw caution aside, to pull on that ridiculous zip and find out exactly what was hidden inside. 

Instead you rear back, lift your ass and then plop it down right on top of that aggressive tent, and he outright chokes as if you’d just sucker punched him. One clawed hand comes up to take bruising hold of your already sore hip, the other braced against the ground to steady himself. A truly unnatural snarl rises in his chest to make him sound like some sort of half crazed beast, but he doesn’t try to shove you off or question what you’re doing. He doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it now that it’s (quite literally) fallen right into his lap; his breath coming a little quicker as he turns his attention downward to take in the sight of you sitting atop his cock with wide, borderline fanatical eyes. 

Stiff and halting, Scar experimentally rolls his pelvis up into you, and the demanding nudge of him between your legs nearly makes your mouth drop open in a heated groan. Right there. He was right where you needed him the most, pressed up tight against your entrance to tease the suggestion of real penetration. You badly wanted it, you’re more than just a bit ashamed to realize. Your pussy felt terribly empty and in need of a good stretching, of which you were certain he not only could provide but would be happy to. The only thing standing between you and that particular end to this foolhardy encounter was the thin layer of his suit but it would have been oh so very easy for you to simply unzip it and claim your prize for yourself. 

You probably would have even given in had the situation been just a little bit different, if the context of danger wasn't an ever present threat under the surface of every encounter with him. But you’re on a self appointed mission and you merely grind your cunt down to drag over his straining erection, gasping softly when he digs right up into your sensitized clit in the process. Gods, this was so very risky. 

“Rover.” 

“Shut up.” You snap, not even bothering to hide your irritation with him, with this whole ordeal as you start to gingerly move. Whether by virtue of his smooth bodysuit or the obscenely wet quality of your cunt, you find yourself easily gliding over that flexing bulge with a sinfully smooth motion that begets an equally easy rhythm. This was much too simple, too comfortable, for someone who was supposed to be your enemy. “You said you would do whatever I wanted, didn’t you? Well, I want you to stop talking. Think you can handle that?” 

Scar lets out a strained, largely distracted laugh, his attention clearly focused on the meaty press of your pussy lips where they drag over the firm outline of him. “My, my, I had no idea needing to get fucked would make you so short tempered! Although I am flattered you want to use me for your own pleasure in this way, I think I should probably remind you that I can do a much better job of … seeing to your needs if you’d let me take it out first.”

Huffing, you ignore him and bring your hands down to brace against his taut thighs, aiming to giving yourself better leverage. It works, you’re quite relieved to find, and the motion of your hips becomes a bit more sure, less tentative. The quiet moan that escapes from him reaches your ears a moment later, the sound rushing straight down to your cunt. This clearly had the potential to backfire in the worst possible way if it went on for too long. You already felt much too tempted to simply reach down and fish his cock out, angle it up at your entrance and sink down on him straight to the base. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction or another reason to be so smug and cocky about everything. 

And given the way his narrow hips quickly start to shudder and tense up underneath you, you’re relatively certain that it won’t. He was either unaccustomed to such physical exchanges, of having a hot, damp pussy dragging right over his cock, so close to skin on skin contact it was borderline torture for both of you, or he was embarrasibgly weak to being on the receiving end of your attention specifically. It may have even been some deadly combination of the two working in tandem with each other. 

But you had to give him credit where it was due and in this at least Scar certainly deserved the reward you were giving him. No matter how much he sensitively twitches or groans, still so vocal even when he wasn’t talking, he does not try to press the matter any further or coerce you into it, nor does he resort to simply forcing you into doing things his way. He just grips you so tight it hurts while he needily thrusts his pelvis up from the ground to meet your stilted motion and maintain the rhythm, which went a very long way in earning him a few points in his favor. Evidently he could be rather obedient when he wanted and you quite liked that side of him, you had to admit. Maybe even liked it a little too much, if the deluge of fresh slick oozing out of you was any indication. 

“Nnghn … if you keep doing that - -“

“I know.” You cut him off, heart rate quickening to match the increasingly eager way you grind against him. “This is payback for what you did to me. Just — finish and get it over with.”

“Hah! Oooh, you really are just full of surprises, aren’t you? Who knew such a precious little lamb could be so petty.” He drawls, trying for confident and unbothered, but there’s no missing the jittery quality of his voice. Like it was taking the vast majority of his self control to keep him in check. 

You feel pretty proud of yourself for that, even when he gives your hip a too tight squeeze before digging his nails in and spreading that cheek from the other so he can look at your asshole while you ride him. Pleasurable shockwaves slam through you at the sharp yet short lived sting from his fingers, your head rapidly turning muddled again when his heavy, masculine groans drop another octave. You knew your hole was still wet with spit after his feast, puffy and darkened from all the attention he’d given it, and that knowledge has you shuddering almost as much as his responding moan does. 

You hadn’t thought you’d get off on something like that quite so much but it seemed Scar was rather adept at teaching you things about yourself. It was ridiculous. 

“Ooughn, damn. You really know how to get revenge, Rover. I must admit I’m … ahhn, I’m impressed.” The threadbare quality of his voice, the way it falters and fades out despite his best effort to keep it steady, makes it glaringly obvious as to what effect this was having on him. His excitement was so palpable you think you could probably reach out and touch it if you really wanted to, if you dared. It was foolish, it was stupid, it was just asking for more trouble from him but — 

That temptation ultimately proves far too great and your pulse stutters an eager beat under the skin as you twist to look back at him. Hungrily, you take in the disarray of his hair and the unexpectedly sincere flush that colors his cheekbones, his pinched brows. He suddenly looked more like a helpless, overly sensitive young man in the prime of his life than the heartless maniac Yangyang had made him out to be. Even the impulsive and sporadic side of him you were now accustomed to dealing with was nowhere in sight. Scar was completely at your mercy like this. He either wouldn’t or couldn’t take the upper hand and flip the script on you even though you were quite certain he could if he really wanted to. 

Was this the loyalty he spoke of? Was it the reason he looked at you, only you, as he did, like you were some sort of ideal come to life or a golden idol he would worship until his dying breath? You weren’t sure if there was much of a difference in his mind and even less sure what you thought about that, but it made you feel decidedly powerful. Inflated with the the knowledge that he seemed to hold you in such high esteem. Like you were the physical embodiment of his deliverance. 

Like you could save him. 

Slowing the motion of your hips to a sedate, leisurely crawl, you allow yourself to just barely nudge your pussy against his rock hard cock in favor of focusing your attention on more interesting matters. You feel emboldened unlike ever before as you reach back to lightly touch fingertips to his neck and lightly tease the skin there. Scar groans in response as if it felt indescribably good to be touched like that before tipping his head back to expose the jagged line across his throat. At the same time his pelvis rolls up into you, a needy whimper slipping out of him, and the significance is clear. Despite his pushiness, he was actually rather submissive when you started reciprocating. How fascinating. 

“Nghnn, Rover -!” 

His desperate gasp spurns you on and you reach higher up to thread your fingers through the back of his hair, closing a tight fist at the root. When you tug at it he quietly seethes but acquiesces without so much as a hint of resistance, obediently straightening up until he’s hunched right up against your back. His big, wet eyes immediately zero in on your mouth and, whining softly, he starts to lean in as if to kiss you while his arms snake around your waist, tightly clutching you in his lap. You put a quick stop to it though, yanking his neck back to halt his forward momentum, and the pull on his scalp draws another whimpering moan out of him. It was clear he was right on the edge of release, close to begging for it by the looks of it, but you had something else in mind for him. 

“Open your mouth.” You intone, tugging on that surprisingly soft hair again to make sure he was paying attention. 

Perfectly docile now, Scar’s lips part and stretch wide to show you a pink tongue and pretty white teeth. He’s watching you intently, almost trancelike in the way he stares into your face from only a scant hair's breadth away. It was clear that he was eagerly awaiting your next command and he issues a breathy, keening sound when you deign to grace him with a small smile. 

“Good boy. Now stick out your tongue.” 

This he also does without question, unfurling it from his mouth to pant at the air like, well. A dog. You might have found it pathetic had you not seen him in action before, had you not already gotten a brief glimpse of what he was capable of. Instead it’s resoundingly gratifying, having this powerful man at your mercy and knowing he was completely wrapped around your finger like this. You can hardly contain your own excitement as you lean in close to him. 

And spit into his mouth. Straight towards the back of his throat, and he positively quakes in response when the wad of saliva hits its mark. 

Mismatched eyes rolling skyward, Scar stiffly twitches underneath you as his cock flexes, pressing almost aggressively up into your cunt with a trembling pulse. The distantly vague sensation of something warm and damp makes itself known between your legs in a slow oozing rush that seeps up into you, and your chest practically caves in with the realization that he’d cum. Just like that. And what’s more, it seemed to be a rather powerful orgasm for as little stimulation you’d provided, given the way he roughly shakes through it, his teeth clenched tight and seething. 

It’s over much too fast, far quicker than yours had been, and he practically deflates against you with a haggard, wounded little sound only a short moment later. Slowly, you let up your hold on his hair and he gratefully ducks his face into the crook of your shoulder, letting out a territorial, rumbling growl even as he nuzzles into you. 

“Don’t get comfortable now,” You murmur. Bringing your hands down, you carefully push at his arms where they’re still locked around your middle but of course he doesn’t so much as budge, and you give a soft click of your tongue. “I still haven’t decided if I trust you or not yet. As far as I see it we’re still on opposing sides.” 

He issues a quiet, halfhearted laugh against your skin, his shoulders hunching around your slighter frame. “Ahh, so cruel, even now. Don’t tell me that didn’t earn me even a bit of consideration?” 

You think about that for a brief moment before deciding that the truth couldn’t hurt. Certainly not after everything that just happened between you and him. “You’re cute, Scar. I’ll give you that. But important decisions can’t be made so lightly. There’s more to trusting someone than physical attraction.” 

“I know, I know.” Sighing heavily, he gives you one last affectionate nudge with his nose before sitting up and letting his hold on you loosen, arms falling away to grant you your freedom. It surprises you more than anything else that’s happened out here on this desolate stretch of mountain, which was quite a feat, considering, but you weren’t about to question it. 

Shifting forward, you gingerly push up off him and climb to your feet. You can’t quite stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder though, and a fresh buzz of arousal tears through you at the sight of Scar kneeling there, big dopey eyes staring up at you, while a very noticeable wet stain bleeds into the front of his suit. It was impossible to tell how much of that was actually from him and how much of it was where your messy cunt had settled, but you quickly glance away before curiosity can get the better of you. Once was already more than enough for one night. 

“Are you going to keep following me?” 

“But of course. You are the one we want, after all.” He snickers low under his breath, like his heart wasn’t really in it at the moment. “This may not be what you want to hear, but my interest in you stretches well beyond just a single tryst. I could have you ten, a hundred or even a thousand times and I’d still want you all to myself, little lamb.” 

Frowning, you hesitantly turn to look down at him again. “But why? You still haven’t explained that yet.” 

“Oh, Rover, my darling. Do I really need to explain it? You’re you. That’s more than enough for me.” 

It’s clear you’re not going to get a straight answer out of him, probably never would, and you roll your eyes at him in annoyance. “Alright. I probably should have expected that response, I guess. Is there anything else you need? Thanks to you I need to have another bath and then take care of … wait. Where did that guy go?” 

Humming softly, Scar casually follows your line of sight over to the riverbank. The very unoccupied riverbank where only your small pile of possessions was, thankfully, still sitting right where you’d left them. 

“Hmm, looks like he got away while we were focused on other, far more important things. No need to be concerned though. I don’t think he’ll be volunteering to keep tabs on you again anytime soon.” 

Stomach plummeting into the ground, your hands fly up to clutch your suddenly very hot face. This couldn’t be happening. You’d intended to distract Scar to keep him from killing that unknown man so you could still follow through on your initial plan of questioning him when he woke up but instead he’d distracted you. Dammit! This entire trek out into the wilderness was a complete waste of time and energy, and you were right back where you’d started. Square one with no results to show for it. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of what he was going to tell his comrades about you and the Fractsidus Overseer. Double damn! 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[georgiapeach30513]

Down On My Knees, Part 2

Summary: Time to be cleansed

Pairings: Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, sacrilegious, sin, mentions of dub con, mentions of self harm, depictions of mental break, unprotected sex, PIV sex, voyeurism, implied corruption in the church, sinister elements, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

You stare out the window of your room, watching as everyone disburses from the service. You’re far enough back from the window, so most won’t notice you. You’re hiding. Even your mother only gives the tiniest glance behind her back. You swear you could see her smirking. Bitch. May she rot in hell.

You hoped that all the saints and angels cast their fiery gaze at her. They never do. It had been weeks of this misery. Five months since that night. Jax was an odd one. He was either getting too close to you, or running away from you. You’d never felt more alone. Running your hand down your bump, you look at your stomach. Not entirely alone anymore.

“Princess,” he is the only one that continues to call you that. He was odd, but that name was such a comfort. You turn to the side, looking at him as your hand runs over the swell of your stomach. “The baby is getting bigger.”

“Isn’t that what happens,” you answer, spinning fully around to walk to him. “What is my personal lesson today?”

“How to clean,” your face falls flat as you look at him. He had to be joking, but he wasn’t. “I need to set something up for,” Jax hated saying his name. Hated the way that his stomach bubbled and rolled just thinking about him coming here to see you. Had even told Jax that the bastard had to go.

“Oh. Him,” you could tell his presence sickened Jax, and you weren’t entirely sure. You were told he was interested. And didn’t care that you or your name was sullied.. “What are we setting up?”

“He wants to have a prayer with you. He’s asked that you set up a special altar,” Jax leads the way down the winding staircase, and you just listen. You aren’t even sure you wanted to leave the church. Well, once you could actually be seen out in public it might not be so bad. This place has become your home. Your own sanctuary. There was a safety in these walls.

“What kind of an altar?” You turn to look towards Jax, and when his icy cold eyes look at you, you have to look away quickly. Missing his grin as he watches you become uncomfortable.

“One to cleanse you. You are no longer pure. I — I’m sorry for being so blunt. He wants you to reclaim your innocence,” he stops in the sanctuary, turning to look at him. That is impossible. What is done, is done.

“I’m not sure I follow, Jax. I was used. I fought, and I failed. I carry my shame in my stomach, but he walks around freely,” Jax shrugs, tilting his head. “What is your worst sin?”

“I’d rather not say,” they never wanted to say. They acted like what happened to you was your fault. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had no one there to save you. Men could hide their sins, while women carried the sins of man around in their stomach. “I can show you how I paid for them. Would you want to see,” you give him a single nod, and he starts removing his shirt.

Twisting your body around, you hate the pull of needing to see what Jax was hiding underneath his clothes. It was improper for a lady to see a man is such undress, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Peeking over your shoulder, you gasp as you view the striped scarring on his back. Healed red welts all across his skin. His pain is something you can feel in your own body. “Jax, these weren’t properly tended to.”

He grits his teeth as your dainty fingers rub over the scars. Whispering a silent prayer as you run your fingers over the marred skin. He was even more beautiful like this. Vulnerable. And sexy. “How long ago?”

“Five months,” he grabs his top, leaving the robes laying on the pew, but covers himself with his shirt. His muscles ripples as he pulls the shirt over himself, and you hate it. You would have liked to continue to gaze upon his body like the mystery he was. Only barely, leaving the buttons undone.

“I lost control,” he answers softly. Jax refuses to look at you, remaining his eyesight on the floor.

“How?” It wasn’t so very different than things are now. You were the epitome of lust to him. He was failing his personal test having you there. Everything about you. The way your lips puckered out when you were confused. Or if you had a question you were afraid to ask, your tongue would dart out of your mouth to lick your lips. Your dresses hang on your curves so very differently now. It left nothing to imagination. As they formed to your growing body.

The dresses cling to your skin, and even with your baby growing, he had never seen anything more beautiful. You carried yourself so well despite all that was going on. You kept your anger and hatred under control. Said your prayers. He saw you. He had to peek in on your to see how your were fairing here at the church.

“How did you lose control?” You interrupt his train of thought, and he finally looks up at you.

“I let someone…I — remember our conversations about someone else controlling us?” You nod your head. His eyes drift down your front, watching your chest heave with the deep breaths you are taking. Pretty soon your chest wouldn’t fit in your dresses. You’d have to have new ones, or your tits would be spilling out.

“I have let people control me.”

“Through your thoughts, or is this a political thing? Often people in power can corrupt the good ones. You allow them in, and you can’t say no. The crown has lots of power Jax,” his light up and he nods his head erratically.

“Exactly!” His voice echoes in the sanctuary. He reaches for your hand, and grazes over your bump. He would make any excuse to touch you. “Exactly. These people…”

“My family,” you pull your hand from his, but drag it to your bump. Letting his hand lay flat on it, and Jax’s fingers splay out wide. Moving around your stomach, until he feels a kick. “Look how they controlled me because of this.”

“He’s a miracle,” you look up at Jax, but his eyes are only on your stomach. His other hand presses against the area. Smoothing around, and even dips too low. He wanted to feel every bit of your baby’s home.

“What did you say?” You question, and his eyes go out of focus as he thinks about the future of your baby. He was bred to perfection. Of purity and also the depths of sin. A divine plan was in emotion, and your miracle had set it off.

“Imagine the power. One time, and it took,” his hand gives the baby a little squeeze, reveling in the way the babe reacts to his movements.

“Jax, you’re scaring me.”

“He’s a miracle. This baby could save us all,” you aren’t even sure what that means. How could a baby born into sin save anyone? It had changed and destroyed your life in ways that you couldn’t fully fathom.

“From what?” You didn’t understand. He was talking oddly. “What can the baby save us from?”

“Them,” he looks up at you with wild eyes. “All of them. He’s not a bastard, he’s a miracle. And,” his hand moves too low on your body, cupping your mound, and you step back a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m…” why did you look so beautiful when swollen? Why was it taking everything in him to keep you pushed away?

“How do I cleanse myself?”

“Princess…”

“How do I take a man?” Jax gulps as he stares up at you. “A man took me, but how do I take my own?” You hoped he understood what you were talking about. You didn’t want to fiddle around with some stupid special altar. If you were to be used up, you should at least get to decide who had a part of you. You wanted to cleanse yourself. Not have some man believe that he could take away what was done. It happened, and you wanted that control back.

You bite at your lip before you turn to walk away. “Princess, you haven’t…the altar.”

“I won’t get a choice anyways. It won’t change. You prepare the altar. I’m going back upstairs. If he wants me used, what is another man? What better way than to use a holy man to cleanse me. If it’s not you, maybe there’s another?”

Jax walks over to a box of items before setting them up, just as strategically as he was told to. Laying each item down, and then steps back away from the altar. It would be there, in front of all the saints, and the eyes of God. They would be the witnesses as you are claimed for something even more. Greater than anyone could imagine.

Looking around the church, he takes stock of every statue, even symbolic figure, and has to clench his eyes closed as pain rushes into his head. The slithery voice he’d been pushing out of his mind blares inside of him. It was wrong. He couldn’t take any more.

Cleanse.

That wasn’t how you cleansed someone. You couldn’t change the past.

Cleanse.

He was just as filthy on the inside as you were. The only one innocent was the baby in your belly.

Cleanse!

Like a zombie Jax begins his ascension up the stairs. Mechanical and stiff movements. But instead of heading towards your room, he turns towards his. He wasn’t going to be told what to do. He had to prove himself worthy. He wasn’t some ordinary man. He was…

“Father Jackson,” you smile at him, dabbing a bit of the minty oil behind your ear. Your dress was gone, and you only had your undergarments on. Your belly is even more prominent when it is bare. “Peppermint has made me sick since that night five months ago. But oddly enough, I was told it would help with sickness. It does. The smell is oddly comforting now. I think the baby likes it.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Did you know you have a perfect view of where it happened?” Your hand rubs over your bump as you look out the window. Giving your baby’s home a few gentle squeezes with your fingers as you turn to look at him. “Cleanse me.”

“How?” Jax knew what you were implying, but you had to ask. He wasn’t going to assume anything.

“I know you want me,” he shakes his head no, but you pick up his hand, placing it on your breast. “I see you looking. Hear you behind me, smelling my hair. The larger my bump becomes, the harder it is for you to look away.”

“In your tragedy there is beauty.”

“Make love to me,” even though Jax shakes his head, his hand cups your breast. Kneading the sensitive area until your pebbled peaks push through the thing cotton. His thumb rubs over your nipple, and he stares intently as it hardens under him. “I’m making this choice on my own. Fuck me.”

His soft touch turns hard as he pinches your nipple. His other hand slaps across your face, and he looks up at you snarling. “That’s what he did. He fucked me. He made sure that I could feel him long after the deed was done. Did it so well, I still feel him five months later. My punishment is the baby growing in my belly. What is yours?”

“You wretched little witch,” he drags you over to his bed. Sitting you on your knees, and he lifts up your skirt. You weren’t going to accuse him of something he wasn’t sure he even did. “You’re…wetter,” he says as his hand runs over your puffy folds. His eyes roll in the back of his head with how wet you are. Receptive. Reactive. Different.

“I want this Father. Cleanse me.”

“This isn’t…this isn’t cleansing.”

“I am telling you that I want you inside of me. This is what I want. I’m giving you what you want. The best way to fight temptation is to just give into it. You shouldn’t fight anything,” your logic was skewed, but your cunt was practically dripping in wait. You give your ass a little wiggle as you stare behind you.

“Please, Father. I’m on my knees, praying and begging that you take what was stolen,” he closes his eyes as he pushes two fingers into your drenched core, and you whimper. Keeping your eyes on him.

“You’re…this is a sin.”

“There are worse sins. This is what we want. I’m telling you, I want this. You have my permission,” you gasp. Jax slowly undoes his pants. Keeping your eyes looking at his member. He was aching. Denying, while you were begging. “No one has to know,” you assure him again. No one would know. You couldn’t become pregnant again.

“Stay on your knees, and beg for our forgiveness,” he chokes out, lining himself up. His voice mewls when he runs his tip through your folds. Squeaking as he pushes himself through, and you seethe. Tightening your muscles up while he continues to push through. Not stopping until he bottoms out.

Jax’s hands hold on tight to your waist before he draws himself completely out. Slamming back in, and your body lurches forward. There was no way this was his first time. He wasn’t holding out. His movements are too smooth. We’re all sinners, but Jax maybe sins more than most. It had to be why he punished himself. Why he made sure that the punishment was deep into his skin and would scar. He’d always carry those sins with him.

His thrusts are quick and hard, stabbing himself deep inside you. His eyes only look at where the two of you connect. Like there was salvation in your pussy. His eyes drift out into the alley way, staring at the spot. That brick is still there, and a mark remains as if your body had seared itself onto the road.

He couldn’t get that night out of his mind. It was like he had multiple views of the events. Watching it. Doing it. Praying over it. Nothing ever aligned. He had lost sleep trying to put the puzzle together. Nothing ever made sense.

“Jax,” your fingers cling to his bedsheets as you look back at him. He is beautiful. A fallen angel. Definitely far from being holy, but the way he touched you. How he made you feel. He wasn’t afraid of you. Didn’t fear being seen with you in your condition, and he loved it.

His hands slide over your tummy, and up your chest, lifting you up, so that your back is flush with his front. His pelvis still slams into you as his lips kiss up your neck. Ending on your mouth, and you slot your lips against his. Tasting the rich tobacco from his cigarettes.

A smell that once repulsed you, but you're claiming it back. His hips may be hard, but his hands over your baby are soft. Sweet even. No matter what happens, this was your choice. You decided this. No one could take it away.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Jax grunts onto your skin as he races for the finish line. His teeth imprint on your shoulder, and he bites down hard causing you to scream out in pain, and also in pleasure. A flash of light from the heavens illuminates your eyes, and his room. An entanglement of sin, and you aren’t sure if you could be cleansed. But this…this was better than any cleansing.

You let him overtake you. Give into the dark side for a moment as you grow weak. Both of you are ignoring anything happening around the cathedral. Living in your own world of sin, but that doesn’t mean that others couldn’t witness it. Could see the two of you giving into lust like your lives depended on it. You didn’t want this to be the last time. You’d gladly follow Jax into the darkness if it meant that you had this taste of the forbidden fruit.

A man looks up from his carriage. The brim of his hat creates a shadow that covers his face. “One. Two,” he counts, smirking as he steps back into the carriage. “Looks like a different ceremony is taking place tonight. Opie, we’ll come back another night.”

“Sir?”

“Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.”

“I understand,” Opie nods to the man before getting back on his seat. “Forgive them father for they have sinned.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @theinheriteddutchess @thedreadandthefugitivemind @rainydayandmondays @welp-heregoessomething

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 28

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

If you weren’t with that man, you would be blown away. You would be absolutely floored. In awe of the private jet, its luxury leather, and pristine interior. Never in your life, scrubbing floors, dredging through the misery of the day-to-day, did you dream of this. You never even aspired to it. You thought, foolishly, you could be happy with just Colin.

Then this man, this dumb man and his mustachioed complexes, walks into your life and ruins it all. And now, he is up to something new. Something you’re certain is just as vile and callous. As always with Lloyd, you just can’t guess at what.

You lean on the armrest, anxiously teetered on the edge of the seat, as you watch the clouds dissipate into the blue sky. You won’t sit back and relax and let him get the best of you. You can’t let your guard down. Your fingers trace the line on your throat, still tender and throbbing.

“Baby,” Lloyd grabs your elbow. You tear away from him as you glance over, “why don’t you relax and have some bubbly?”

He offers a flute of champagne and you keep your face neutral. Your body language alone must give away your anxiety but you won’t crack. You drop your hand, and shrug.

“It’s a bit early to drink–”

“Time zones,” he pushes the glass closer, “who gives a fuck?”

You relent and take the flute by the stem. He takes his own glass as you stare at the bubbles and surprises you again as he clinks his brim against the crystal in your hand. You squint up at him and take a cautious sip. He gulps down half of his.

He wipes his upper lip instinctively and flings his hand away with a huff, “so, you don’t like surprises, babe? I figured you for the romantic type. I mean, the way we met… that was some sweet shit, wasn’t it? And for a loser.”

“Please, Lloyd,” you take another drink, deeper.

“I know, sensitive spot. Still.” He growls and sits back, tossing back the last of the champagne, “I’m gonna help you forget about that jackass. You know, you should be thanking me because that’s exactly what I've been tryna do this whole time.”

“Uh huh,” you hum doubtfully.

He sets his glass down on the table at his elbow and clucks. He leans back and smooths his hair with his palm. His fingers twiddle along his cheek as he thinks.

“You’re such a fucking cynic,” he says, “why the fuck are you so heartbroken?”

Your lips part despite yourself. Why would he ask? Why would he even care? He doesn’t. He’s mocking you. Again. Trying to draw out a reaction.

“I’m not,” you assure him and drain your glass, “I am just… aware of my worth now.” You put aside the crystal and sniff, “thank you for showing me that.”

He lets out a long, gristly breath. He pushes his head to the side so it pops, then to the other, another stiff crack. He sighs and rolls his shoulders, wiggling as he settles back against the chair.

“I got an idea,” he intones.

You look at him. Whether you ask or not, he’s gonna share it and it’s no doubt going to be stupid.

He reaches to his fly and undoes it, smirking as he lifts his hips slightly to roll down his pants. He’s not wearing any briefs. You don’t think this is an entirely organic thought. You peek over towards the cabin, a curtain separating you and the staff.

“Ah, don’t worry about them, they don’t come back here unless I tell em too,” he pulls out his dick and strokes himself. He’s only half-hard, “it’s gonna be a long flight–”

You brace yourself. What is it? Hand job? Your mouth? Or maybe he wants it all.

“Sit in daddy’s lap,” he orders as he plays with himself, teasing himself to fully cocked.

You inhale and push yourself up. You hide the roll of your eyes as you sidle in front of him. You reach back to brace the wide armrests and lower body slowly over him. He slides his hand up your skirt, rolling it up above your ass as he grips your hip and guides your back. He prods at your entrance and urges you onto him.

You hold your breath as he stretches you. He hooks his arm around your stomach and pulls you flush to him, forcing you down to your limit. Your nails sink into the leather as you shudder and gulp. He keeps you against him as he leans back and his thumb flicks against the switch set into the arm rest.

The chair reclines and he brings you to lay atop him, sheathed in you. He doesn’t move as the back angles below him and his other arm loops around you, his hand sliding beneath the dress and cupping your tit. He purrs as the tension seeps from him.

“I always like a good nap on a long flight,” his mouth tickles your crown as he speaks.

You don’t reply as you wrinkle your nose. You’re rigid atop him, uncomfortable around him. He’s smothering you to the point of misery. Just another game, you tell yourself.

“Relax,” he squeezes your chest, his thumb toying with your nipple, “and sit still. I just need you to keep my dick warm while I get some shut-eye.”

You stare at the curved ceiling of the plane. How long are you going to be trapped on this flight? Does it matter? You doubt what comes after will be any better. You let your head rest against his shoulder and fight to ease your taut muscles.

“Good girl,” he groans as he fondles your chest, his other hand trailing up to touch the cut at your throat. A subtle reminder. Maybe even a threat.

💎

You ache emptily as Lloyd takes your hand. A gesture that troubles you more than the mile-high catnap. You don’t fight him as he tosses the keys for the rental to a valet and tells him to get the bellhop to unload his bag. 

The entitlement roiling off him makes you want to hide. It’s almost embarrassing how he speaks to them. You were once in their position, seen as nothing more than a shadow cleaning up after the VIPs.

He guides you through the front doors of the hotel, tall glass barriers with sleek golden handles. It’s the sort of place you saw on those reality shows about pampered housewives. The type you bitterly envied behind a glass of cheap wine.

As much as you feel displaced, Lloyd appears entirely in his element. He changed before you disembarked. A pale blue suit over a gauche floral shirt, unbuttoned too low on his chest, and a pair of dark sunglasses that added to his douchy veneer. The whole charade throws you off-balance. What is he doing?

As you approach the front desk, you assume he’s drawing out the inevitable. That for you, a return trip might be out of the question. His cryptic behaviour bolsters this suspicion and the way he clings to your hand heightens your disease.

“Hello, sir, welcome to The Paridisia, are you checking in?” The pretty clerk behind the desk greets. Her dark curly hair is pinned back to spill perfectly down the back of her ivory blouse.

“Hansen,” he replies.

He flips up his sunglasses and raises your hand. You tug against the sudden motion and he squeezes tighter, kissing your knuckles as he sends you a wink. You let your arm hang limp from his grasp.

“Oh, yes,” she says as her manicured nails hit the keys, “the honeymoon suite.”

You nearly choke as Lloyd releases your hand and snakes his arm around you, drawing you close, “you know it.”

“Congratulations,” the clerk says brightly, “you two look so happy.”

“Overjoyed,” he affirms as his hand falls down to your ass and he squeezes, “she’s a bit spontaneous, you know? Eloped and all that.”

You blink dumbly as you peek over at him. Are you supposed to play along with this? What is he playing at? Does he really think this if fucking with you? It’s weird but it’s not… terrible. A free vacation?

No, he’s got something else planned. He has to.

“We have everything ready for you, Mr. Hansen,” she slides over an envelope trimmed in gold, “and if there’s anything you need, you just let me know. I’m Martina.”

“Thank you, Martina,” he takes the envelope, “you can have them bring the luggage up to us.”

“Of course, sir,” she smiles.

Lloyd taps your ass before he veers you towards the elevator. You take short steps beside him, crossing your arms as you try to figure him out. He hits the golden button and you look up at the arc of numbers above as they light up one at a time.

“I’m just going to ask it,” you say under your breath, “what the fuck is going on?”

He snickers as the elevator dings and he ushers you aboard. The doors shut as you turn around and he plays with the hem of your skirt.

“Surprise, baby,” he slithers, “you get to be Mrs. Hansen for the weekend.”

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Imp spoke, “Always ticked Alec off, you know.  That you weren’t any good at holding grudges.  Too focused on the present, when it came to picking your enemies and your allies.  I wound up defending you, even.”

I don't know if this is true.

I recently saw a meta where some asshole in this fandom was criticizing certain elements of the Worm fandom for constructing a 'sanitized version' of Taylor for fanfics.

The specific example they used was someone saying that Taylor wasn't very judgmental, or something, and then going off on how that's totally not true and Taylor is super judgemental and going on to leverage that to attack Taylor on multiple levels and how the fandom version of her doesn't match her.

Now, I think I've made it very clear both on this blog and my main blog that I don't take a 'narrow read' of canon for pretty much anything. I love that lot of interpretations on characters exist, even ones I don't like or don't agree with, I don't try to police them and beyond the really extreme batshit reads on characters that are just bafflingly nuts, I don't really even bitch about them much. I'll often - though hardly always - read stories that have depictions of these characters that I think are off, or don't match mine, but seem rooted in the text.

Granted, there are some characters, usually ones I have strong feelings on either way, where there are some readings of them I'm just never gonna want to read a fic including, but even then, bar the ones that I think are just way fucking off base, I don't think they're invalid.

All that said, I don't actually disagree that A) The particular descriptor of Taylor that this asshole chose to single out and go after was wrong, and B) That there definitely are people who present a version of Taylor that is sometimes sanitized. (Not so much sanitized in terms of morality, but in terms of her weirdness or repellent traits as a character, etc). I don't agree with this asshole that Taylor is actually gotten 'that wrong' by the 'Spacebattles Crowd' as much as he does.

That could be because I'm lucky in which fics I've read - I have been breathing, eating and sleeping Wormfic for the lasts six months, and as I read Worm, I have been able to look at some Wormfics and go 'yeah, I don't really like that Interpretation, yeah that feels off base, etc' and I've even seen some TINO (though I think it is less common than many believe - I think most depictions of Taylor, even ones that get stuff wrong, are still rooted in actual parts of the text, they may just be cherrpicking or doing the common habit of taking a piece of text and taking the interpretation a few extra steps too far, either for effect or because they think it's fair to do so in this case).

I doubt it's actually a function of the fics I've read - I haven't read all Wormfic of course, but I've read quite a spread - and more just a difference of opinion about what sort of extrapolations/extensions of canon are permissible.

But to get back on topic, I think that the 'Taylor isn't judgmental' interpretation comes from a real place. It doesn't come from the particular line that I used as a jumping off point for this extended rant/meta/hit piece against the unnamed asshole/Etc, but it's the same kind of thing. Where characters will sometimes say a thing about Taylor that fits with what they know of her, but is not fully accurate. Or they're taking individual moments where she isn't being judgmental, even when perhaps she should, and making more of them then is fair. Also, first person makes it harder to separate the MC's perspective from perspective of the work as a whole, and sometimes people just... get it wrong on where the separation belongs.

So Imp says that Taylor is bad at holding grudges. I don't agree. Her meeting with Emma in Arc 20 makes very clear, despite what some people have claimed, to my face, that she hasn't 'let go', or that she doesn't hold a grudge. Even her earlier meeting with Sophia is hardly free of the history they have.

Taylor holds grudges. She held one against Armsmaster for quite some time, until reconciliation happened.

But Aisha says Taylor doesn't hold grudges, and said that ticked Alec off... because especially with the Trio, Taylor doesn't act on those grudges.

One of the things that I think is a major source of division in terms of Taylor is less the 'unreliable narrator' aspect (which I really think gets overplayed) is that some people really emphasize what Taylor does and says to people (even when it's clear she's lying, it's relevant what she's lying, who she's lying to, and how she's lying) and others what to emphasize what she thinks. And even then they want to emphasize certain aspects of what she's thinking and then taking a further step and - relying heavily on the 'unreliable narrator card' - what they think that really says.

I don't disagree that Taylor is an unreliable narrator. And I don't think that you can ignore Taylor's own thoughts. But her actions were still choices, what she says and who she says things to are choices, and those choices say as much about her as her thoughts - because after all, unreliable narrator.

And yet, the 'unreliable narrator card' always seems to get played in one direction, that Taylor is worse than other people think she is, or some variations thereof. But I would say that in many cases, the core unreliability of Taylor's POV is her own poor opinion of herself and what she's doing.

This has diverged pretty far from where I started, but just tl;dr - just because someone else's version of Taylor doesn't line up with yours, doesn't mean that they're doing a 'sanitized version' or a 'TINO'. They might be, but it could be they are trying, but getting wrong. They also could have a different perspective that emphasizes different aspects of the character in the text than you do, they have difference of opinion as to which parts of the text are the most revealing of her core character and then different opinions about how to take all that information and extrapolate it into situations the character wasn't in in the canon.

This comes down to some pretty rooted philosophical differences about canon and fandom and fanfiction and transformative fandom versus curative fandom and moves well beyond Taylor and Worm, so not really a thing that's easy to convince people on but just... have an open mind and not be an ass to or about other fans if they're not being an ass first. And even then, probably don't be an ass.

I don't always live up to my own advice, but I try.

[thelargefrye]

CHAPTER ONE … the stranger in the woods

pairing : ateez x f!reader (eventual poly relationship)

genre : atla au, slow burn, comedy, angst, fluff

word count : 2.6k

warnings : language, mentions of being attacked by fire benders

note : tag list has been moved to the end of chapter! feedback is appreciated!

you found a stranger in the woods during a storm, not yet knowing that it seemingly change your life.

IT WAS RAINING THE DAY YOU CAME ACROSS THE STRANGER. the storm had been raging on for what felt like hours now, and you were surprised to see that the large gusts of winds and rain hadn’t blown you away yet. 

but the storm was the least of your worries as you found the stranger, heavily injured and now thanks to the rain, covered in mud and leaves. he looked like he was on the verge of death and you noticed the burn marks here and there on his body. you felt your hands throb underneath their bandages as you remember how it felt to be burned by fire – or firebenders.

was he attacked by firebenders? was what ran through your head as you picked him up, throwing his arm over your shoulder as you hurried as fast as you could back to your grandmother’s house. 

your grandmother was surprised when you busted through the door with the stranger, and she immediately had you lay him down in order to patch his wounds up. you hadn’t noticed it when you picked him up, now that you were out of the storm, you took in his vibrant blue arrow tattoos that covered his body. 

was he an airbender? you had only heard stories of how the airbenders would gain those tattoos after mastering their element. you figured only older air nomads had those arrow tattoos, but you’re glad to see your assumption proven wrong. you also couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the stranger was. 

he was probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. not even the village’s most handsome could match against this stranger. 

“he should be fine now, thankfully his injuries weren’t too bad,” your grandmother says and you let out a sigh you hadn’t known to have been holding. after that, your grandmother scolded you to go change your clothes, not fully noticing how you were still soaked to the bone. your mind is only concerned about the stranger. 

“do you think he was attacked by firebenders?” you asked your grandmother after you had changed your clothes. the older woman is silent for a moment as she stirs the soup she had been previously making before you stormed inside the door. 

“his injuries sure do seem like that’s what happened,” she replies, but you can sense the dread that takes over her body. she really didn’t want that to be the case. recently, you had overheard several of the men in the village talk about how the fire nation has been seen all over the earth kingdom. 

everyone felt tense about it, and rightfully so. the fire nation was a powerful nation with their military and obviously also thanks to their bending powers. fire. some would consider fire to be the most powerful element, but others would argue and say it was the most destructive. 

you would have to agree with fire being the most destructive element. only because you’ve only seen people use it for destruction. 

“i heard some men in the village say they’re worried about the fire nation. some travelers are talking about how they are planning to start a war with the other nations,” you say as you fumble with one of her many nick-nacks that sat on the table. 

it all felt weird and something uneasy sat in your stomach at how this was all going. your eyes drifted over to the stranger who laid peacefully in bed. 

“i’m not sure, dear, many things happen in this world without reason or explanation and sometimes we just have to accept those things. if the fire nation starts a war, the other nations can only do what they can to either stop it or fight back.”

her words settled on your mind for the rest of the night, even as you ate and went to bed. the stranger was still unconscious and the storm still savagely raged on. you remember your grandmother mumbling about how the spirits must be upset about something for the storm to be this harsh. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, you find the stranger trying his best to make it to the door. you let out a gasp at the sight of him limping towards the door. 

“hey, you can’t go out! you’re still injured!” you say doing your best to stop him from leaving. the stranger, despite his injuries, is surprisingly much stronger than he seems. he easily blows a gust of air at you, knocking you down as he reaches for and opens the door. you let out a huff as you move and manage to grab his ankle, stopping him from moving. 

“let go! i have to go find moni!” he hisses out trying to pry your hand away from his leg. 

“no! you’re still injured! you need to rest before you hurt yourself even more,” you bite back before pulling on the stranger’s ankle and making him stumble back. 

the stranger falls back, landing on your body and you both let out a groan and you hear footsteps coming from somewhere else in the house, that you can only assume it's your grandmother.

“what on earth are you two doing?” she asks, coming into the room and is surprised to see the stranger collapsed on top of you. 

“he was trying to leave, granny! i was just… ugh, trying to stop him. hey, will you… please get off me! you’re kind of heavy,” you say and you feel the stranger shift before he manages to roll off of you and you are quick to stand up. 

“i need to leave! i have to go find moni before those fire bastards find him!” the stranger says and it only confirms the fact that he was attacked by firebenders. 

“boy, you are in no shape to be looking for your friend. you need to rest,” your grandmother says as she helps him up and makes him sit back on the bed. “if it makes you feel better, my granddaughter will go search for him.”

you look at your grandmother in shock. surprised that she would volunteer for you to search for this stranger’s friend. 

“that’s very kind of you, but i would rather look for him. i know he’s probably very scared right now especially thanks to the storm that was going on last night,” the stranger says as he once more stands up. he lets out a small grunt as he stands, but tries his best to hide it. 

“then let her go with you. my granddaughter is very familiar with these woods and will help you find your friend faster,” she says and the stranger looks from her to you before down at the floor. its obvious he’s considering it, thinking it over before he lets out a small sigh. its clear your grandmother will not let him go out by himself, adamant on you going with this stranger. 

“fine, if you are insistenting then i guess i could use the help,” he says and your grandmother smiles at him before she turns to pack your bag for you to take. 

“yeosang,” the stranger says as he watches your grandmother pack the bag. you look at the man with a confused look. “my name… it's yeosang,” he finishes.

“oh, i’m y/n,” you tell him with a little smile. 

“SO… WHAT DOES YOUR FRIEND LOOK LIKE?”

“large, fury,” he answers as the two of you walk through the forest together. the aftermath of the storm is something you haven’t seen before. trees uprooted and threw across the forest, branches broken here and there, and it really looked like a tornado had swept through the area. 

“well, then he should be pretty easy to find then. there’s a cave not too far from here, maybe he went there to hide,” you suggested after the two of you basically climbed over a large log before continuing on the dirt path that had been basically man-made over the years of people using this route to travel between the different villages in the earth kingdom. 

“that’s probably a good place to check,” he says before he allows you to lead him to the cave that’s nearby. the cave is usually a place known to the villagers, especially the kids who are hiding there from their parents when they are going through their “runaway” phase. 

“it should be close,” you tell yeosang as and sure enough the two of you come across the cave. yeosang quicken up his pace as he rushed into the cave, calling out to his friend as he entered it.

“moni! moni, are you here? moni!” his voice echoes throughout the cave as you follow close behind him. you were shocked when you seen a large bison hiding out inside the cave, but this didn’t seem like any regular bison. the arrow design on its fur let you know this was a flying bison and more than likely yeosang’s “friend” he was looking for.

“moni!” yeosang said with a sigh of relief as he ran up to the bison and hugged him. the bison lets out a small roar before he lazily licks yeosang who you notice smiles up at the bison before he’s turning to you, his smile somewhat disappearing, but still remaining on his face. “thank you for helping me find moni,” he tells you and you feel a heat rush over your face as you as you can notice the rather gentle smile overtake yeosang’s face. 

“um, it's no problem! but… you still need to rest though, you’re in no place to be trying to leave or fly anywhere,” you tell him, still concerned over his well being. 

you can tell yeosang is conflicted about what you are telling him. you can see the conflict of everything going through his mind and you wonder if there’s something else he’s worried about. something different than finding his flying bison. 

did it have something to do with the firebenders attacking him? was he separated from someone else and wanting to go find them?

“how long will it take until i can leave?” he asks, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“three days at the most,” you answer him. 

“then i’ll stay and rest, then on the third day i’ll leave. i… have someone that i need to find,” he says, proving your theory that he was probably wanting to go look for someone. 

“okay,” you tell him before you and him are making your way back to your grandmother’s house. yeosang is kind enough to allow you to ride on the back of moni. 

THE NEXT THREE DAYS, you spend making sure yeosang doesn’t push himself while also helping take care of moni. the giant bison seemingly takes a quick interest in you as you feed him different types of vegetables that you and your grandmother grew in her small garden, plus whatever you had bought at the market in the village. 

you have also started taking a liking to yeosang, he’s become a nice addition to the house that only kept you and your grandmother. the airbender would often share things with you about his people, telling you stories that date back to centuries ago. 

you’ve noticed that your village has also taken a liking to yeosang, the village children entranced by his cool persona. often begging him to show them some of his airbending, which he does but not without a few playful complaints thrown in. 

“where are you going to go once you heal?” you ask him on the his last night. the two of you are laying in a field near your grandmother’s. moni is not too far away as well, rolling around peacefully in the field. 

you refuse to look at yeosang, instead keeping your eyes on the stars above you. word has been spreading that the fire nation is starting to close in on the earth kingdom with rumors about them already killing most of the air nomads. 

“i’m not sure, i just know i need to find my friend,” he says and you can hear the concern in his voice at the thought of perhaps not finding his friend. 

“your friend… he’s really precious to you isn’t he?” you ask, feeling your heart race for some unknown reason, or rather one you refuse to acknowledge. 

“he is, that’s why i need to find him before the fire nation does,” yeosang says with a sudden spark of determination. “do you have anyone precious to you?” he then asks, catching you off guard.

“my grandmother is precious to me,” you tell him, but you know that’s not what he means. 

“is there anyone else?” yes, you want to tell him, but you don’t think you have the heart to talk about him. yeosang turns his head briefly to look at you as he notices your quietness. he’s greeted with the sight of your glossy eyes as you continue to look up at the stars. “i’m sorry… you don’t– i shouldn’t have asked.”

“it’s okay, i lost him because i wasn’t brave enough and i think i’ll probably regret it for the rest of my life,” you confess with a heavy heart as you wipe your tears away. the two of you bask in the silence between each other for a few more hours, before yeosang is helping you onto moni and is taking you back to your grandmother’s.

it feels odd to see yeosang off. you want him to stay, but you know he needs to find his friend. the two of you are standing in front of each other, you shuffle from foot to foot as your eyes look from anywhere but at the airbender in front of you. his wounds have healed nicely and you’re happy to see that he’s gotten his strength back. 

“um… thank you, y/n, for finding me and helping me,” yeosang says as he looks at you with a soft smile. the two of you have definitely warmed up to each other over the past three days, but you still feel like he’s a stranger to you. you kind of don’t want him to leave so soon, you want to get the chance to know him better.

before you can say anything, your grandmother is coming out of the house, a bag in her hands before she’s basically shoving the bag into your own. 

“g-granny? what are you doing?” you ask, taken off guard by her actions. 

“my dear, you’re going to join yeosang on his journey. he’ll need someone to look after him and moni,” she says with a smile and you miss the blush that overtakes yeosang’s face.

“go with… yeosang? but granny, what about you? i need to stay and help you out,” you say, you would love to go with yeosang, this could be your chance to leave your village, but… what about your granny? you need to be here for her and help her out around the house.

“my y/n, you don’t need to worry about me. i feel that yeosang might need you more during his journey,” she tells you and you turn to look at yeosang who is already looking at you. 

“i don’t think your grandmother is going to let me leave without you,” he starts and you feel kind of bad. like your grandmother has literally pressured him into making him take you along with him. “but i don’t mind. moni seems to have really taken a liking to you, and it would be nice to have some company,” he adds with a smile making you smile as well.

“well, then i guess i can’t argue with you and granny. so… should we be off then?” you ask and yeosang nods. you bid goodbye to your granny before yeosang is helping you on top of moni. the two of you take off as you finally ask yeosang who you are looking for. 

“his name is hongjoong, and he’s… he’s the avatar,” he confessed to you.

tag list : @invuwrld @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @hwal0v3r @marahleiwhen @harry-the-pottypus @rdiamond2727 @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @voidcupidz @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @kangskims @cvpitvno

networks : @cultofdionysusnet

bold means unable to tag!

[trashlie]

Darker ILY Theories: the Shinae + Gun Kim theory

The time has COME. I keep telling myself to write this post but I keep putting it off because honestly, this one makes me feel sick. I’ve been talking about it again with friends while rereading the Black and White Formal arc, and in light of the current FP episode (232) I think it’s time to bring this one back into the fray. 

As a big disclaimer this post deals with sexual assault noncon theories of underage girls. 

Sometime ago I read a theory that Shinae was at the formal for Gun Kim. There’s been so many theories about the formal. Even recently, there’s been talk about the way Yui had Shinae style her hair seeming similar to how Nessa wore hers, and how she insisted that Shinae meet her husband. I don’t think by any means that discounts this theory at all, because Yui sure knows how to multi-task doesn’t she. 

The Kim formal really set up a LOT of story and action. It’s the moment ILY reveals what kind of story it is - not that there weren’t hints and clues before, because we could already see the discord in Nol and Kousuke’s relationship’ the stress in Shinae’s life and her fight with her father; the money struggles; her friends. But the formal introduced so many elements. It showed us how off Alyssa and Nol’s relationship is. It showed us how sinister Yui really is. It fully introdduced Sangchul and how lecherous he is. The Chess theory, the manipulation, the drugs, all of it was at the forefront finally.

And also, we met Gun Kim. 

Gun is interesting, because he’s the character we know the least about at this point - and his eyes are always closed. He’s always felt sketchy, even as far back as the black and white formal itself. The characters even comment on it. What is someone who looks like Shinae doing at this formal? Mr. Kim likes all women. 

Now that we know how chummy the Kims and Yui/the Hiraharas are, the more sinister it feels. Gun Kim, with his several connections to media conglomorates. Gun Kim, whose father* stepped down from his position as CEO of Hirahara Corp due when facing several sexual assault charges. Gun Kim, father to Sangchul Kim whose prep school has been rife with sexual abuse cases. 

(* presumably Gun’s father. Youngchul Kim. Sangchul Kim. It checks out)

At the time, maybe he didn’t seem SO bad. A negligent father. A womanizer, a playboy. But in light of what we’ve learned, I think we can revisit the scene and find some clues laid out, waiting for their time to come. 

He makes his grand appearance - convincing the bartender to give underage girls alcohol. Even without the later context, this is terrible, but now that we know what we know.... it feels even more skeevy, even more dangerous. Letting young girls drink, get intoxicated, so that they’re easier for him. Ugggh. 

He sure makes himself real comfortable with the girls, too. Sure, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this. What a gracious host. But we know better. And we also know you don’t put your hands on people who don’t even know you. Seeing Alyssa’s face, you wouldn’t ordinarily think anything of her smile mask; she uses it all the time, why would this be any different. But in light of ep 232.... I’ll try to save all my 232 posts for the end so I can put it under a readmore and avoid spoilers. 

Isn’t it weird, that he can instantly recognize Shinae? Oh sure, maybe it’s because someone who doesn’t know who he is isn’t from this world, so she has to be Yui’s special guest. And look, Yui and Gun are business partners. Friends, even, since Sangchul seems to know so much about Nol and his family via Gun. Through who else would they know about Nol and his not-much-of-a relationship with Alyssa? So, surely Yui has told Gun about Shinae, since she’s the topic of Kousuke’s interest, right? 

But no, I feel horribly, uneasily certain that Yui has shown Gun pictures of Shinae, described her to him, maybe even told him how much fun she is. How she’s got so much personality, that he’ll just enjoy her. Even typing this makes me feel ill ugh. The thought that Gun and Yui are in cahoots not simply by way of business but by way of an even darker, more sinister business is fucking horrifying. 

So not only does he instantly recognize her for who she is but 

Is it wrong to pay her a compliment? It’s not like he said anything inappropriate. And yet. And yet Shinae is uncomfortable. And yet he is a stranger, a man she doesn’t know, acting too friendly, someone who already knows of her. Danger, danger, danger, danger!

This man gives me the creeps SO MUCH and it’s everything about THIS. His expression, those closed eyes, something about him feels smug and smarmy. Everybody gets drink, everybody gets inebriated, everybody gets to have fun. He’s gross, he’s disgusting, he’s encouraging drinking. We know what kind of fun a man like him wants to see and have. 

And he’s not simply enabling underage drinking. 

Even after Nol expresses that he doesn’t want a drink, he’s still pushed to have one, still expected to be “respectful of the host”. The host who is pushing alcohol on minors!!! Like, even on its own that’s clearly beyond irresponsible, because you can definitely get the sense that he wants to see what happens when a bunch of kids loosen up, when they all let down their inhibitions, when they all get sloppy and start making mistakes. Like, let’s not pretend otherwise. He wouldn’t be encouraging the drinks at all if he didn’t want something to happen, if he wasn’t hoping for that to transpire. 

Like, really mull over that for a moment.

The word choice that’s used here is important, both for the things said and unsaid. Kousuke and Nol may have met Sangchul for the first time, but they’re not stranger to Gun I’m sure. I can’t imagine this is the first Kim formal they’ve had to attend, and even if so, everyone in attendance seems to know Gun’s reputation. Sangchul is one of six children - but only one of two from the same woman. How many women has he been married to? How many more has he simply been with? 

And how many of them young. Or against their will? 

Sangchul didn’t learn his tactics from no one, let’s not forget that. 

Sangchul only knows coercion, bribery, blackmailing, manipulation. If you’ve got a hot girl, you must’ve ha to force her hand, must’ve had to black mail her to get her to agree. It could never be as simple as a girl just liking him, no. It must be some seedy, skeevy, manipulative tactic. 

Sexual assault runs in the family. Sangchul learned from watching his father, who no doubt learned from Youngchul. When you see women as property, as items, you don’t see them as people. Even if she refuses, they’ll get what they want in the end, won’t they? UGH. 

Kousuke and Nol react in surprise - alarm - because the implications of his wording is creepy. Nol knows Shinae is being forced to attend this formal, she’s not here of her own volition and wouldn’t even accept his offer to safely get her out of there. He probably wonders exactly that - is that why she’s here? And he’s possibly not entirely incorrect. 

Yui sweeps in to note that Gun isn’t being so literal, but we know how those two operate. I think as readers we are meant to read into that. It’s not there just for the boys to become alarm, it’s there for us to understand that Gun is not a safe man for Shinae to go alone with. Especially because as readers we already know Shinae feels off, she’s having a drink, AND the episode has quietly informed us that Sangchul roofied her. 

And this man comes sweeping in, calling Shinae a cutie, promising to introduce her to everyone. 

Even in her addled state, Shinae knows there’s something weird about the use of family, but she’s dazed (she’s drugged), she isn’t feeling right in the head, this whole event has  been a nightmare for her so far, she’s being thrown into situations she’s ill-prepared for, so it’s so easy to gloss over it. 

But the text emphasizes it itself. 

It IS weird.

This is ALL weird. 

Does this not make you feel disgusting? Does this not make you want to scream? He’s talking like she’s a pony or something. A grown man parading a minor around, talking about how she’s a cutie, everything is so perfect, her dress - which is modest only in the front and leaves her whole back and parts of her waist bare - everything. And the question about is she your new wife?

How many other pretty young things has he paraded around like this.

How many other pretty young things has he wed? And how many of them were forced against their will, bribed, manipulated? What did he hold over their heads? 

I don’t have to spell it out. We know. We all know. 

Look at Gun with his eyes closed, that stupid smile on his face. What was it quimchee said of why Mr. Kim’s eyes are always closed? Living is easy with eyes closed. He can turn a blind eye to anything, he can encourage anything. Was the drink too much, he wonders. Was she feeling unwell, he muses. Oh well, it doesn’t matter, my son has her. :) 

Gun Kim is no fool. He’s not naive. He is a horrible, vile man and he knows exactly what he was doing, sending an unwell girl who was previously drinking underage off to “rest” with his creepy, vile fucking son. 

But Ashlie, you’re asking. I thought you said that Shinae is at the formal for Gun, but he knowingly sent her off in that state with his son, surely knowing what kind of horrible thing he’ll do to her. If she’s for him why didn’t he take her?

He’s the host, of course he can’t take her anywhere yet. 

She’s the after party. 

jfkafjkfakjfajkafjkafj GOD that felt gross to write I’m sorry but I just KNOW that’s his line of thinking, I just KNOW that’s what this was supposed to be. Everything went awry when dick-punched Sangchul and escaped. 

We know well enough now that the Kims are just as vile and atrocious, that they breed a special kind of especially horrible violence, that sexual violence is NOTHING to them - perhaps even fun. The way Sangchul needled Nol about Alyssa makes me so sick, because it tells you everything about how he views and treats women, the kinds of things he, too, has probably done. 

All I can think of now is that Yui and Gun are in on this. Of course they are, this is their sleazy empire. Business partners that go further back, deeper than we ever realized. Yui, who has no qualms about playing with peoples’ lives, who gets a thrill out of breaking people down, out of their misery. Gun, who thinks girls and women are ripe for the picking, who enjoys a nice pretty young thing? UGGH UGH UGH death wouldn’t be enough punishment. Prison wouldn’t be enough. NOTHING that happens to them will ever be satisfying enough but GOD I WANT TO SEE THEM TOPPLE AND FALL. 

Spoilers for ep 232 ahead:

I think we can already see how this ties in to the current FP episode, right? 

I had absolutely NO idea he was this close. Like... I’ve worried about his connections to media conglomerates, I’ve worried about the women he’s been with and how Sangchul learned that behavior, but to see him on the other side of the door of the bathroom in which Alyssa is hiding.... horrifying! The way he calls her sweetheart like he’s some placating father, except we know better. The expression on her face when she hears the girls talking about her but worse, when she hears Gun ask if she needs any help. 

It’s her body language when she finally comes out, so meek and small, arms held close to her body like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible.

And it’s the implication that he’s going to drive her himself. Alone. 

Not even a manager to spare for her? Or worse, is he a manager? An agent? Is he her superior in this role? There’s so many horrifying, stomach-churning possibilities and in the end, it doesn’t matter which he is, because the point is: he has that access. 

He doesn’t need to be their manager, their agent. He has connections. He has Yui. He has his name and influence and power and money and most of all, he has dirty little secrets. So much blackmail. So much dirt. 

GOD. 

I’m so fucking scared for Alyssa RUN GIRL RUN GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT ;___________; 

I’ll put more thoughts in my actual 232 thought dump post but for now: Gun Kim may not have gotten a hold of Shinae, but he’s not left for want is he ;________; 

[irregular-child]

Werewolves: Part One

I was reading a Werewolf!Harry fic and was reminded about my feelings on the matter, so here’s this rant…

WEREWOLVES IN HP SUCK

This is not an opinion, this is fact. In so many aspects, Joanne eviscerated werewolves in these books.

For one, the fundamental elements we think of when we think of werewolves. The shape that they take and how they are turned. With traditional werewolves, when they turn they take one of two shapes. A wolf-man hybrid (that usually just looks like a wolf head with a man’s chest and arms, and a wolf lower body) or a full on wolf. Joanne chose to bastardize the former and gave us the sickly greyhound-man hybrid. Do I think looking sickly is a metaphor for how poorly Remus treated his wolf? Possibly. Do I think JKR did that on purpose? Hell no. I believe she just made bad decisions and we made lemonade with them, like we do everything in this godforsaken fandom. Also, this is a smaller grievance but I have always disliked how easy it was to be turned into a werewolf. Typically, you have to be bitten to be turned. In HP, all it takes is a small scratch. I fully believe that this is the result of JKR wanting to more easily abuse the group she’s using werewolves as a metaphor for in her writing.

Speaking of! Let’s talk about how werewolves are treated in HP. Most media will not paint werewolves in a positive light. Especially not the ones from the 90s/early 00s (when HP was written). But the extreme governmental restrictions and prejudice shown against werewolves in HP is very interesting when looking at it through the lens of the metaphor that JKR is using werewolves for. I want to say a decent chunk of HP or Marauders fans are aware of the belief that Remus Lupin being a werewolf is a metaphor for a gay man having AIDS. If you weren’t, well now you are. By using this specific metaphor and then creating a world where there are laws saying that werewolves need to be tracked and monitored at all times and that the number one most known werewolf to the British Wizarding World is a sociopath who specifically preys on small children… We really should have seen her TERFness sooner.

My final thing is Dumbledore. Now, anyone who knows me irl knows that I HATE Dumbledore with a passion that rivals the fires of hell. I have many grievances with the man, but the one I’ll bring up today is Dumbledore’s treatment of Remus during his school years. From what we get from HP canon, Dumbledore is the main person who advocated for Remus to go to Hogwarts and is the one who set him up with accommodations for his ‘furry little problem’. Now, I can hear you already, “Child, he was helping out a kid who wanted an education, despite his issue, how could you have an issue with that?” WELL, I’LL TELL YOU HOW! Dumbledore did that to set himself up as the only trusted adult in Remus’ life. Similar to Harry, Dumbledore’s kindness to him was a way for him to assert control over Remus. By giving him this thing, a chance to be a normal kid while being abnormal as well as it being an education, Remus now feels indebted to Dumbledore. He can never repay him, everything he has done in life, all his accomplishments are because Dumbledore gave him this education. An opportunity that werewolves rarely get. So, once Dumbledore asks him to go and spy on the werewolf encampments, how could Remus say no? Surely this is such a small favor compared to everything Dumbledore has done for him. Nevermind, it takes away a trusted adult from Harry, who just learned of his existence and ties to his parents. Who could have influenced Harry to truly think about all this war entails and the good he could do after it. Dumbledore kept Remus away from Harry and deprived him of a person who could inspire him to want to have a life after Voldemort. So he could spy on the werewolf camps. And he wasn’t successful at it. None of the other werewolves liked him. Why? Because he wasn’t like them. None of the other werewolves were given an education like Hogwarts. Most of them don’t have jobs, or money. So when this well-dressed, well-educated guy starts poking around, clearly looking for evidence of your ‘being evil monsters’ they obviously shut down around him. So Remus didn’t even get any of the information he was sent there for. Dumbledore, in one fell swoop turned Remus not only into his personal hunting dog, he turned him against his own kind. He guaranteed that Remus would not have any access to werewolf culture and community and kept him in the wizarding world. This force fed him werewolf-hating propaganda everyday of his childhood and got him to agree with it. Remus hated his wolf. Fenrir Greyback (as horrible a person as he was, he is our only other resource for werewolves in HP) is a powerful wolf, because he embraced it.

[thornwolfy235]

WIP 1 - Kissing

I'm going to post a bunch of WIPs in a row now. maybe with a little feedback I'll get the gumption to finish one of them.

A bit of info on them first. I wrote all of these in an effort to deal with an exceptionally bad break-up (might as well call it a divorce, we lived together for 6 years). A lot of these are "how it should've gone" type stuff. I was never able to decide if they should be a full chapter by chapter "novel" or just a bunch of oneshots within the same universe and make a collection of them in order or whatever. Maybe I'll drop them to Ao3 as well. They are all xfem!Readers with my blorbos Grillby and Gaster (though most have no anatomy mentioned, so you can safely read no matter what gender you are). I'd appreciate a glance through if nothing else.

This first one is early-ish in a relationship with Grillby with a Reader who is nervous about kissing. Mostly fluffy with very mild spice.

Mondays had become your regular time to hang out with Grillby. With his pub closed until Tuesday afternoon and you out of work early, it meant those nights could be just for the two of you. You’d only been together about for a month and had yet to go out on a date in public, but spending the evening cuddling on his couch and watching movies, playing board games, or just talking was plenty nice. The casualness of it all was nice, too. After how devastatingly your previous relationship had ended, keeping things simple and relaxed where you felt no pressure to try to impress was a relief. Seeing your beau out of his crisp attire and in what you’d consider street clothes was a perk as well, a reminder to you that he was still just a normal person like you, and as such was happy to be with a normal person like, well, you. The best part was that he’d remove his glasses so you could see his eyes unobscured by the reflections of his flames. With his dislike of people being able to see his eyes, you considered it a true privilege that he felt comfortable enough to let you in like that.

Tonight, though, there was definitely something on the elemental’s mind. He seemed more than a little distracted, and you’d caught him more than once watching you from the corner of his eye instead of whatever was on the television. You were nervous to ask what he was thinking about, however, for some reason afraid of what his response might be. It didn’t make sense for you to be afraid, of course – nothing he had ever said or done should have made you think he might hurt you or put you in a situation you weren’t comfortable with – yet you were.

You felt him looking at you again and glanced over to find Grillby’s half-lidded eyes were indeed on you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I-is something wrong?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head, pausing the movie and turning to you fully. “No, sweet spark. In fact, everything is wonderful,” he answered, his soft, airy voice brushing over you. He took your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I’m very happy to be with you. I love you.”

Your nervousness eased. It was hard to be scared when he touched and spoke to you so sweetly. “I love you, too,” you said, leaning in for a kiss. His constant, radiant warmth and almost-solidness always made kissing him nice, if a little ethereal, like kissing the softest blanket imaginable fresh from the dryer.

Grillby lifted a hand to cup your cheek, thumb lightly running over your skin. “I’d very much like to kiss you more,” he murmured. His smile turned mischievous when you tilted your head curiously. “As in ‘make out,’ spark,” he clarified with a little chuckle.

“O-oh…” You looked down at your hands, anxiety returning.

“Hey,” he said gently, amusement turning to concern in just one word. “You know I won’t force you to if you don’t want to, right?”

You sighed, tightening your grip on his fingers.  “I know…it’s just…I don’t…I haven’t…” You groaned in frustration as the right words eluded you, turning away a little. “I don’t know where to start.”

His hand went from your cheek to your back, rubbing soft circles between your shoulders. “It’s okay. You can tell me as much or as little as you want to.”

You nodded. You wanted to curl up in his arms, hide against his chest and just pretend like nothing was wrong, but you knew he wouldn’t let you ignore whatever was upsetting you. Grillby had the annoying habit of wanting to help you through them. “It’s just…lingering baggage from my ex-fiancé. There’s a-a lot of it, you know?” The elemental’s orange flames dulled to a reddish hue and pulled in towards himself. Your stomach clenched. “I-I’m sorry, I never know what will set off memor–”

“Don’t apologize. I know you’re still working through it all. Will you tell me what happened?”

You chewed on your lower lip for a moment. “Well…I-I mean…maybe it was my fau–”

“Ahp! Don’t say that!” Grillby broke in sharply. “You know how good he was at twisting everything into your problem or your fault when it wasn’t.”

“R-right, right,” you stuttered. It might have seemed harsh, but this was something you had asked him to do to help keep you from spiraling back into your habits of self-deprecation. “I guess…the long and short of it is that, when making out, he always wanted to do open-mouthed kisses – like French kissing or whatever – while I don’t particularly like them. At first he was very understanding, and honestly I was willing to give them another try whenever he asked, but as time wore on, he started to get…mad at me. He said that, given how often we kept trying them, I should’ve figured them out, or gotten used to them, or just…put up with them to make him happy, even if they still made me uncomfortable.”

Red flames burned more intensely. “That was...” He paused, clearly hunting for a polite way to voice his frustration with your former fiancé. “…very unfair of him. Did he pressure you to keep trying them?”

“Not exactly? I wanted to keep trying, hoping that eventually I would figure them out, but when I still didn’t like them and would ask him to stop, that’s when he’d snap at me. He never forced me to keep going, but his comments made me feel just as bad. A-and later on –” You stopped yourself, not wanting to say last part out loud. You were afraid it would come across as whiny or jealous.

“What did he do?” Grillby prompted, voice carefully neutral though you could feel his radiant heat tick up slightly.

“He…e-even though he said he wouldn’t, he started comparing making out with me to making out with the person he cheated with and ended up leaving me for. H-he’d always apologize right away and say he wouldn’t do it again, only to just do it the next time he got back from spending the night with them. It was like he was proving to me that I was…broken somehow. They could do it and like it and apparently be amazing at it, so why couldn’t I? It made me feel s-so awful about myself every time he did it.”

“I’d imagine so.” He cupped your chin, lifting your head look up at him. “He shouldn’t have shamed you for having limits and boundaries. There’s nothing wrong with them. I would argue that it’s good to know your limits and stand by them.” He looked to the side with a scowl. “I cannot believe that he would compare you to someone else like that. Well, no, I can; I’m just always…amazed by how uncaring he could be.” He blew out an irritated puff of smoke (thoughtfully away from you) before softening again, leaning down to affectionately bump his forehead against yours. “There is nothing ‘broken’ about you for having likes and dislikes. We don’t have to do open-mouthed kissing if you don’t want to.”

“That’s just it. I do want to. I…I want to keep trying, I really do. There is something about them that’s nice, even if I can’t quite figure out what it is because I lose it too quickly. Th-that’s when they start to feel…wrong to me. I was…I am afraid that you would be offended if we started and then I asked you to stop,” you explained.

“Oh, sweet spark…I wouldn’t have been offended even if you hadn’t told me all of that. If you want to try them again, we can, but please don’t hesitate to tell me when you’ve had enough.” He smiled kindly at you, flames returning to their normal orange, though there was still concern in his golden-yellow eyes. “Is there something in particular that you don’t like about them?”

“I’m really not sure…I think part of the issue is that I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to do during them. He’d tell me to just ‘go with it’ or ‘do what feels right,’ but that didn’t really explain anything. I don’t really get the point of them, either. People say you’re supposed to feel closer to the person you’re doing them with, but I just feel awkward. And…I guess…I-I don’t know…just…” You shrugged. “Tongues are weird?”

Grillby burst out laughing, yellow-tinged flames sending up a harmless cloud of sparks, and quickly pulled you into a hug before you could take offense to his reaction. “I’m sorry, spark. I’m not laughing at you. Your phrasing was just very, ah…”

“Blunt?”

“I was going to go with ‘unexpected,’ but ‘blunt’ is equally accurate,” he said, still chuckling. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe there’s an instruction manual for making out.”

“Oh, the internet has plenty of ideas, I just don’t understand any of them,” you told him with a tiny grin. You loved when you could make him laugh like that, big and loud and undeniably real. It made you feel special. Even Sans’ puns only got a snort at best (you had a hunch the poor barkeep had heard them all at least a dozen times).

He breathed out a long sigh as he got himself under control again. “So, we can try some open-mouthed kissing, but if you want to stop, I won’t take it personally, okay?” he said gently, surmising everything you told him. “Is there anything else I should know about? Any other likes or dislikes?”

You glanced away shyly. “I-I don’t know…What other things did you have in mind?”

“Well…” He paused for a second, tilting his head contemplatively. His lips quirked slightly, a sort of playfulness entering his voice. “How about nibbling or biting?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I, uh…I-I never really did much biting myself, b-but I do like being bitten. N-not hard enough to break skin, but getting bitten makes me feel…” You trailed off nervously.

“It’s alright to tell me, spark. I won’t make fun of you,” Grillby murmured, taking your hands to place a comforting kiss on the back of each of them.

You took a shaky breath. “Getting bitten makes me feel safe. I-I know that sounds strange. The best explanation I have is…It’s like I’m being shown that while you could make it a painful experience, you won’t. You have the desire to not hurt me along with the control to keep it gentle. It’s…reassuring.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” he said, his sincerity surprising you. “I think why I like to bite fits nicely with your reason to like being bitten. You know how much trust means to me? Well, there’s a trust the receiver has to put in the giver. They must trust the giver to be good to them while they are vulnerable.” Flicks of blue wove through his flames as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “So if I wanted to bite your neck, you would first have to let yourself be vulnerable enough to allow me that close, and that isn’t something you would let me do unless you trusted me. I love that level of trust, and I would love nothing more than to reinforce it, to show you that your trust isn’t misplaced.”

You smiled shyly up at him. “And you reinforcing it by being gentle with me would make me feel even safer. I-I guess we do match up pretty well.”

“So, what do you think? Would you like to try making out with me?” Grillby asked softly, as gentle and understanding as ever.

You dropped your gaze, your nerves still getting the better of you. “Wh-what if I can’t? What if I mess up or let you down?”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. He waited until you met made eye contact again before speaking. “I think that’s him talking, spark.”

You sighed. You’d never had much self-confidence to begin with, but your ex had stomped out what little you’d had, making you constantly second and third guess everything. “Y-you’re probably right…”

He sat back again, gazing down at you thoughtfully. “I have an idea that might help you relax, if you’d like to try it, but it would involve being in my lap. Are you okay with that?”

Your cheeks warmed a little. “L-like sitting sideways o-or straddling you?”

“Straddling. It would be easier with you facing me.” You looked down at your still-intertwined fingers, teeth worrying your lip again. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want. You can call it quits anytime, and you won’t be letting me down for doing so. I promise,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Y-yeah, let’s try it.” You met his eyes again and smiled, even though you felt your lips trembling as you spoke.

He leaned in to give you a small, soft kiss. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, warm breath brushing over your lips. He let go of your hands so he could carefully guide you into place. You couldn’t stop the uncertain whimper that came out of you as you settled on his lap, legs spread to either side of his. “It’s alright. Just sit for a moment. Breathe. I have you,” he soothed, hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Your hands had a death-grip on his shoulders as you shook, staring unseeing at his chest. You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I-I’m s-sor-ry,” you stuttered.

“It’s alright,” he repeated. “Take as much time as you need. Let me know when you’re ready or if you want out. I won’t do anything without your say-so.”

You managed a shaky nod, forcing your breathing to even out, timing it to Grillby’s rising and falling chest. True to his word, he just held you in place, thumbs rubbing circles against your sides as he waited. “O-okay…I’m okay,” you said at last. “What’s next?”

“May I take your glasses?” Nodding, you took them off and gave them to him. He deposited them on the side table before touching your cheek. “Thank you. Now, I need you to close your eyes and focus on me, okay? Don’t think about anything else. Just focus on my voice and my touch. Be here with me,” he said.

You took as steady of a breath as you could and did as he asked. His hands moved to behind your back and pulled you closer. He softly shushed the thin whine that came from the back of your throat as he used a hand to gently press your head to his shoulder and hold you there, the arm still around you keeping you flush against his chest. And then he began talking.

Grillby’s voice rumbled against your ear as he told you a story about that silly jukebox that still refused to work properly despite how many people tried to fix it. His fingers slowly ran up and down your back as he told you that while showing off with bar tricks was fun, he preferred just focusing on his patrons rather than tossing bottles. He softly pet your head as he told you about a cave in the Underground, one he didn’t visit often as it was a little too damp for his liking, that had hundreds of glittery crystals in the walls and ceiling, and how Monsters would pretend they were stars and would wish upon them. His hand stopped to rest on the back of your neck, warm and comforting, as he told you about a park he used to visit when Monsters first came to the Surface, just to help himself learn to exist around humans again, to remind himself that the War was long over and he was no longer Underground.

The longer he talked and tended to you, the more you relaxed against him. There was no pressure here, no judgment or demands. You let his careful touches and gentle warmth calm you, his smoky-sweet scent and soft voice soothe away your worries until your world was just him.

After a while, Grillby fell silent and a few moments later, you felt yourself being eased away from his chest to sit upright. You almost opened your eyes, but a soft “don’t” from him kept you from doing so. He ran his hands from your shoulders up your neck to your cheeks, cupping them gently, pulling you just a little closer, and you felt him kiss your forehead. Another followed, then one on your temple, your cheek, then forehead again. He repeated the process on the other side of your face, then placed a teasing one on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. Finally he pressed his lips to yours, and when he pulled back, you chased him, wanting more. The kisses that followed were soft and sweet. Though he held you close, a hand cradling the back of your head, he let you decide how long to hold them, how many you wanted at a time, and when you needed a moment to take a few calming breaths.

“I-I love you, Grillby. I love you s-so much,” you whimpered during a break, your emotions becoming unstable again. Your throat tightened like you were about to cry. You didn’t deserve someone who was this patient and kind and understanding, did you? He shouldn’t have to deal with the mess you were. He deserved someone more put together and confident like him. He should just –

“Look at me, sweet spark. I’m right here. You’re okay,” he cooed, derailing your disparaging thoughts and bringing you back to the moment. You squinted at first, finding him too bright to look at initially. His flames were a vibrant orange-yellow, and his eyes filled with as much tenderness as you’d ever seen. “I love you, too. I’m very proud of you. You’re doing so well.” He nuzzled your cheek before sitting back. You smiled shyly as his fingers brushed through your hair. “Would you like to keep going? Maybe try some open-mouthed kissing?”

“I-I don’t know what to do…” Your nerves returned, though not nearly as much as you had expected. Grillby’s careful attention had left you feeling far more relaxed and secure than you thought was possible for someone as anxious as you.

“That’s alright. We can play a little bit, try things out. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.”

A thought occurred to you. “I…It won’t hurt you, will it? I-I mean…humans have saliva, which is primarily water, a-and you’re…you know…”

He shook his head with an understanding smile. “There shouldn’t be enough to be harmful to me. But I promise to tell you if something is wrong as long as you promise to tell me if things become too much.”

“O-okay…deal.” You managed a shaky grin of your own.

Grillby kissed your forehead. “Would you like me to take the lead?”

“Y-yes, please,” you answered fast enough to make him chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Close your eyes again for me.” It took you a moment to obey, still a little uncertain about the actual kissing. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, his hands running up and down your arms. “What are you worried about?”

“I…I’m still afraid of messing up or letting you down,” you admitted.

“You won’t. Do you know how I know that?” He lightly tapped your nose, making you squeak. “Because the only things I have asked of you are that you trust me and try, and you are. I didn’t ask for perfection, and I never will. I love you, and that includes everything that comes with who you are.”

“E-even when I’m sad or scared?”

“Well…alright. I don’t like when you’re scared, but I do like that you let me comfort you. I don’t like seeing you cry, but I do like that you let me dry your tears. I love that you feel safe enough with me to let yourself be fragile. I love seeing your smile when you feel better.” His hands cupped your cheeks as you did just that. “Yes, that one right there,” he added, laughing when you lightly pushed his shoulder, embarrassed by his teasing. He kissed your forehead, an arm going around your waist. “Would it be alright if I took a little control of you for this?” he asked, turning a little more serious.

You frowned. You wanted to say that he had been in control this whole time, but that wasn’t true. For the whole experience, he had asked before doing anything, waited for your confirmation, and you had no doubt that he would’ve respected any request to stop. Whatever he wanted, you knew it wouldn’t be anything that would hurt you, but that he was asking to take away some of your autonomy was a little unnerving just on principle. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“…I don’t know how to explain what I have in mind. May I show you?” You hesitated before nodding. The hand that was still on your cheek slid to behind your head. He wove his fingers into your hair and tightened his grip. It didn’t hurt, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to turn your head without meeting some resistance from his hold. The realization wasn’t as upsetting as you thought it would be. “Relax your neck and shoulders for me,” he requested, and you obeyed. He slowly, carefully, tilted your head from one side to the other, then back to expose your throat to him. “I want to be able to move you as I kiss you so I can find out what feels best for both of us. I won’t jerk you around or anything of the sort, just move you,” he said, tipping your head forward (you were surprised by the flicker of disappointment you felt that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to kiss your neck). “Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed.

Grillby pulled you closer, your arms automatically wrapping around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him.  You almost leaned in to initiate the first kiss, but your nerves held you back, still worried about failing him. He must have felt your uncertainty, because he placed a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead. “You are safe, my spark. Safe, and loved very dearly.”

“I-I know…I trust you,” you answered softly, sincere despite feeling out of your depth.

“I know you do.” You heard the smile in his voice. He kissed your lips just as gently once, twice, then a little harder, held for a little longer, and then back to soft. He repeated this several times, kissing you deeper and then backing off, gauging your reaction and adjusting for it. The attention and care led you deeper into security, so when you felt his lips part against yours, you responded by doing the same without a thought. You felt something different, hot and pliant, sweep across your lower lip. His tongue. You pulled back just a little at the realization, more out of surprise than anything else. He titled your head to nuzzle your cheek. “Too soon?”

“’M not sure,” you mumbled, your answer honest.

He tipped your head back and placed several kisses along your jaw, traveling down to your throat. You whimpered softly at the sensation, making him chuckle. “What you really want is for me give you some attention here, don’t you,” he purred against your neck. It was not a question.

You swallowed, caught between embarrassment and anticipation. “Y-yes…”

“I’ll give you what you want, but you have to do something for me first.”

Your arms tightened around his shoulders, anxious even if you knew he wouldn’t ask for anything crazy or let anything bad happen. “O-o-okay?”

“I want to tell yourself that you are worth this, that you deserve patience and kindness and love. Even if you don’t believe it yet, I want you to hear you say that you are enough simply by being you.”

A tear squeezed its way out from your shut eyelids. That was probably the hardest thing he could’ve asked of you, and he knew it. He knew how little you thought of yourself, how much self-loathing you held, how you believed you were nothing but a burden to him and those you loved, how you thought you hadn’t done enough to earn the things he did for you. So of course he would ask you to be kind to yourself.

[moontheoretist]

Tony dropped two cubes of sugar in his own mug and then went to sit with Stephen Strange for brunch. “So.” “So,” Strange responded in kind. Tony began cutting into his eggs benedict—the good doctor even plated the servings instead of condemning them to eat from takeout containers, bless his heart—and marveled at the surreal moment they were enjoying. “About a week ago for me, right when I sent you that email.” “Same. Been having headaches for the past two weeks, though, so I got myself scanned, the whole works. I thought I had an aneurysm or a fast-evolving brain tumor,” Strange snorted. “And?” “Nothing, of course. My colleague yelled at me about getting enough sleep and strong-armed me into taking two weeks off. I was in upstate New York when I got your email.” Tony laughed. “Don’t you live in New York? Going upstate is not a vacation, doc.”

“I didn’t want to go too far in case I needed medical attention,” Stephen shrugged, making an approving noise at the coffee. “The headaches were bad. I was convinced I’d collapse with a head bleed and need an emergent craniotomy. We medical people tend to self-diagnose. But the headaches stopped a week ago when I woke up.” Tony also hazily recalled having persistent pounding headaches leading up to his reawakening. The memories were flat and colorless as if they belonged to a different person from a different time. His memories from the past future were much clearer and in bright technicolor. “Is it supposed to be like that?” he asked the doctor wizard, even as he struggled to explain his perception of the past. “I don’t really fully understand what that spell did.” Strange grew contemplative, looking into the middle distance. “Memory, like consciousness, is primarily a function of the soul. But the soul leaves imprints upon the physical body, much like how we leave footprints in the snow. This soul that now resides in our young bodies are from a far future and therefore holds memories from that time. However, our young bodies retain an imprint from the other soul that we replaced, which is why those memories feel disconnected from your present. That’s the best way to explain it, I think, without requiring you to learn soul magic and interplanar association.” “And that’s why the spell worked?” Tony surmised, delicately relocating more sauce to the top of his benedict. “Sending only the soul removed the complication of the paradox, because souls are beyond time and space.”

“Yes,” Strange looked up at him with surprise, “precisely.” “No need to look so shocked, I do have a doctorate in Physics,” Tony said. “Not quite how I expected I’d be using it, but I live an interesting life, what can I say.” Strange snorted again, finishing one of his two benedicts. “You think Reindeer Games made it?” Tony asked after a moment of silence. “Highly likely, and he probably woke before we did,” Strange said. “I’ve tried to reach out to him, but Asgard is far, and I’ve needed a few days to reacquaint myself with this… reality. He would have an easier time coming to us.” Tony clicked his tongue. That wasn’t ideal, but they’d have to make do and assume Loki would do his part. Having three of them instead of only one person was the main draw behind this reckless idea. They were each other’s insurance. Strange put down his cutlery and looked up to meet his eyes. “How are you holding up? Feeling alright?” Tony blinked at the sudden show of concern. They weren’t exactly friends, he and Strange, but he supposed now they had no choice but to be. “Fine, actually. I felt like shit when I first woke up, but that was more the palladium poisoning, I think.”

Strange reeled in surprise. “Palladium poisoning?” “Oh, yeah, duh, of course you wouldn’t know,” Tony shook his head, tapping his chest where the reactor housing sat under his shirt. “So the palladium in my arc reactor was leaking into my bloodstream and poisoning me. I had to create a new element to replace the palladium as an energy source. Got that taken care of last week, though. Speaking of which, I need your hands for something really important and I really can’t trust anyone else with it, say yes, okay?” Strange stared at him and did not respond. “Doc?” “You made a new element.” “Yep, I’m patenting it as Starkium. I tried ‘badassium’ last time but that got cockblocked by the patent office.” Strange barked out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You made a new element. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Tony agreed, pointing a fork at him, “and you’re not one to talk, Dr. I’ll-invent-a-new-surgical-technique-for-shits-and-giggles Stephen Strange!” “Inventing a new surgical technique is not quite as record-shattering as inventing a new element, Dr. Stark.” “I’m sure your patients would beg to differ,” Tony dismissed. “Now will you lend me a hand? Two hands, actually. I really need it.” “And what, exactly, will I be lending them for?” “This,” Tony pulled a hologram out of thin air, leaving it to hover over the table in front of Strange. It got the effect he wanted; Strange leaned forward with great interest and mounting alarm. “Is that—are those—” “Shrapnel, from one of the most advanced artillery units I invented for the US military. Ironic, right? They’re so tiny it was damn near impossible for them to take the suckers out in that cave. This kept me alive.” Tony tapped his arc reactor again. “It acts as a magnet, suspending the shrapnel in my chest so that they don’t tear through the walls of my heart and kill me.”

“That’s—” Strange spun the hologram around, zoomed it in, tilted it this way and that as if to memorize where each piece of shrapnel was. “That’s absolutely ridiculous. How can you even move around with this?! Why haven’t you gotten them removed?! Just because they’re suspended doesn’t mean they don’t hurt,” and with just a hair of hysteria in his voice, “for fuck’s sake, Stark, you can’t die yet, I just saved you!” “Hey, chill, that’s why I need you to remove them,” Tony brought both hands up, once again surprised at the show of concern. “I need those magic hands of yours. You operate on brains, so cardiac surgery should be cake, yeah?” Strange was muttering under his breath, turning the hologram sideways such that Tony’s heart, which was pushed slightly left and down due to the arc reactor’s position, was right in front of his face. “I need some time to study this and decide my approach. Give me a day or two. How much pain are you in right now? One to ten, ten being the worst you can imagine.” “Well,” Tony scoffed, “the worst I can imagine is pretty out there, doc.” “Answer the question.” “One? It really doesn’t hurt anymore, only when I exert myself.” Or have a panic attack, but no one needs to know that. That earned him a very intense look, the kind of look that should have made Tony flinch and shy away. But somehow, Strange’s pointed attention didn’t It feels good to be seen, Tony realized. I’m not alone.

~ for a hundred visions and revisions by aventria and iluxia

This is why I love fanfiction. Movies are too focused on action and too limited in allocated time to truly focus on the characters and their issues. That's why books and movies are mediums that differ so much. You have far more space to say what you have to say and explore your characters in a book than in a movie. But it still doesn't excuse MCU from not putting enough effort to at least TRY to remember that several of their heroes have crippling mental and or physical issues.

[kittyofalltrades]

A Change of Pace

The Resistance has a new defector to the cause. Former Captain Poe Dameron at your service.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word: 4758

Rating: Explicit MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

Beta: @welcometostayingawake

Warnings: PinV (wrap it before you tap it), Oral (f rec), birth control implant, kinda enemies to lovers (so yes Poe is sarcastic and she takes a swing at him) let me know if i missed anything

You tapped the datapad connected to your X-wing. There had been a system malfunction and you were determined to get to the bottom of it. You were tapping away when your friend Finn appeared on the ladder, when he didn’t immediately speak you assumed that whatever he wanted wasn’t important. You tapped a way under his watchful gaze for another minute before finally turning to him.

“Need something buddy?” You asked.

“General Organa wants to see you,” he told you.

“You could have led with that,” you told him with a snort.

Finn chewed his lip and fidgeted nervously under your gaze and you suddenly felt bad about scolding him. Sometimes he was so worried about interrupting that he’d just wait until he was acknowledged. You hated it and thought he’d finally broken the habit but apparently not, you made note to be more gentle with him next time.

You climbed out of the cockpit and down the ladder, you pulled a towel out of your pocket and attempted to clean the grime of working on an X-wing off while Finn waited. Once you were done, you disconnected your datapad and exited the hangar with him hot on your heels.

“Did you hear about the new arrival?” Finn asked quietly, having apparently gotten over his initial scolding.

“Not much just that it was some First Order person with enough intel that he wasn’t shot on sight,” you answered with a shrug. You weren’t much for the gossip, especially when it pertained to new recruits.

“I wonder what they’re like.”

“Probably stuck up and even after joining still thinks we’re nothing but rebel scum,” you answered with a snort. The rest of the walk to Leia’s office was quiet, with you sinking into thought, wondering what could be so urgent that she wouldn’t just send a droid for you.

Once you reached Leia’s office, Finn departed, leaving you to your fate. He didn’t say it often but his worry that Leia didn’t trust him would never fully go away. And honestly, after the loss of Rey, it wasn’t that small of a concern.

You entered the General’s office and took a second to enjoy the view. Even in the heart of the jungle, Leia had found the most peaceful place to set up. A cave with the wall open to the elements, providing a breathtaking view of the base, sat in front of you. Sometimes when she gave permission, you’d sit on the floor of her office just taking in the view and being reminded that these were the people keeping hope alive.

Behind you Leia cleared her throat making you turn to look at her, seeing her wearing another set of beautiful robes. Why she bothered was always a mystery to you. The jungle’s heat had you wearing the least amount of clothing acceptable whereas she was swathed in fabric constantly, and you weren’t sure how she handled the heat. You started sweating just looking at her.

“Commander, I’d like you to meet someone,” She said in a regal tone.

The word Commander had you straighten your spine, something important was about to happen. That something being a man in a First Order uniform stepping out of the shadows. He wore stun cuffs but still held his hands away from his body to show himself unarmed. You itched to reach for your blaster when you saw the officer marks on his uniform. Almost as if sensing your thoughts he gave you a wicked smile.

“Commander, this is Poe Dameron, former captain of the First Order. He’s been kind enough to offer valuable information during his defection,” Leia told you with a thin lipped smile.

“Good for him, what does that have to do with me?” you asked, barely keeping your tone respectful.

“I’m making him your subordinate. Where you go, he goes, as such I’ve arranged a double room for you both,” she continued. “Stateroom 54.”

“Wait a double room? You don’t expect me to cohabitate with this man, do you?” you asked aghast.

You had to admit that Poe was attractive for a First Order officer, but you didn’t think you could handle living with him. Not after your break up, and Leia wasn’t the type to try to play matchmaker; she was serious.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I not pretty enough for you?” Poe asked with a grin.

You ignored him and turned to Leia in an attempt to plead your case. To ask that she not leave you with this First Order officer. This man who seemed all smiles but you weren’t sure he could be trusted, defector or not.

“Get him outfitted, trained, and mission ready, Commander,” Leia told you firmly.

You processed the words with a deepening frown, that meant–she couldn’t be serious, “Am I grounded?”

Leia didn’t answer, instead she released Poe from the cuffs and retreated to her desk with them. “Dismissed, Commander. Dismissed, Dameron.”

“But Leia–”

“I said dismissed, Commander,” Leia repeated with finality.

You gave her a crisp salute and turned on your heel, exiting her office quickly. You were this man’s babysitter, like you didn’t already have enough on your plate with former First Order Officers. A particular ginger bastard floated to the forefront of your mind and you remembered being his babysitter until he was deemed trustworthy. How kind he’d been to you after his first battle with the resistance. You mind drifted to how sweetly he’d kissed you and how he’d taken his time fucking you and exploring your body. The good times played like a reel until you got to the bad times. The fights, his need to be in control, his need to keep you grounded, and his lies, most of all.

Poe’s voice dragged you back to the present and away from all the reasons Leia shouldn’t have left you with another First Order Officer.

“What do you want?”

“I asked where we were going, sweetheart,” Poe asked with a charming smile.

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you growled at him, the nickname was wearing on your nerves.

“Or what, sweetheart?” he asked, drawing out the word. He seemed to be enjoying needling you and he was going to pay for it.

In a small fit of rage, you swept his feet from under him sending him to the ground while a yelp. Once he was down, you put a heavy booted foot on his chest keeping him down where you could look at him. “You can call me Commander, Black Leader, my name or ‘hey you’ for all I care, but for kriff’s sake stop calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

“Yes, Commander,” Poe said, giving you that charming smile again. You reluctantly let him up, wondering if you had won this battle or if he had. You had just learned a valuable lesson not to underestimate him.

You sighed and turned down one of the least used pathways to the Quartermaster. You didn’t want anybody spotting that First Order uniform, it might cause problems. Yes, there were plenty of First Order defectors but one as pretty as him was bound to be an issue. Not that you thought he was pretty.

You reached the Quartermaster’s building quickly and stepped in. “Shiress. It’s me, I have an order to place,” you called into the depths of the building while Poe came around behind you.

From the back, a small portly woman stepped out giving you a happy smile. “Commander, just the person I was wanting to see. Your order arrived last night. I can get it for you now, if you like.”

“Sure,” you told her cheerfully. “While you're back there, do you think you can get me a full outfitting?”

“Sure sweets, male or female or non Terran specific?” Shiress called as she headed toward the back room.

You turned to Poe, “Hey, are you male or female?”

He gave you a raised eyebrow at the teasing. “I am very much male, maybe I can show you later, Commander.”

“You do know I am armed, right?” you threatened.

Poe laughed and put his hands up in surrender. You hated how the sound slithered across your skin and made you shiver. Damn, even his laugh was fuckable.

Shiress returned and dropped a crate at your feet. From it, she withdrew a set of clothes that she thrust at Poe and waved him toward a changing area half hidden in a corner. He didn’t complain and proceeded without a word. You watched him covertly while Shiress listed the contents of the cart. You could only see his chest and shoulders but you enjoyed the expanse of golden skin and broad shoulders that was revealed as the First Order uniform was peeled away.

“Commander. Commander,” Shiress said snapping her fingers to get your attention. When you finally looked at her, she gave you a wide grin that made you roll your eyes. “I know you like ‘em pretty.”

She cackled at the words and you ignored her in favor of squatting down to examine the contents of the crate. If Poe walking around the corner shirtless wasn’t distracting enough, the fact that the top button of his pants was undone certainly was. The opening at the top of his pants framed the trail of dark hair that disappeared just out of sight. You’d seen men before but never one of this caliber. You wanted to run your tongue down that little patch of hair and see if he tasted as good as he looked.

“This shirt is too small and the pants just barely fit,” Poe said while he passed the shirt back to Shiress. He turned to show the smaller woman just how tight the pants were around his ass and you managed to drag your eyes away before he looked at you.

Shiress tutted and sent him back to the changing room before giving you a sly smile. It wasn’t a secret that since you’d broken up with your last beau you’d refused all advances and, in short, needed to get laid.

“Just because I need to get laid doesn’t mean I need to ride the first pretty face I find. Ride the first pretty face?” You questioned softly out loud. “That was not where that sentence was going.”

Shiress tossed Poe a second shirt and returned to you. “Need anything else? Or is that it?”

“No, just send the rest of his things to stateroom 54,” you told her.

“Take my advice, girlie. You better ride that man into the sunset before somebody else decides to,” Shiress gave a quick squeeze to your shoulder just as Poe returned with his uniform neatly folded. She whisked the offending fabric away leaving you with Poe, with you still kneeling beside the crate.

Poe gave you a quick smile and opened his mouth. “I swear to the maker, Poe, if you say something about how good I look on my knees…”

“I was just going to ask how I looked. But now that you mention it-”

You finally found what you were looking for and in a swift move grabbed his arm and injected his birth control implant making him yelp in pain. “Oops.” You told him before dropping the injector back into the crate.

“I was up to date on my implant,” Poe grumbled while he rubbed the sore spot on his arm.

You didn’t answer as you stood and dusted yourself off. You picked up the crate and carried it out of the building with a groan. It was heavy and almost none of it was yours. You turned and dropped it at his feet.

“You want to get that? It’s your stuff.”

“Are you going to order me, Commander?”

You turned on your heel and made your way through the jungle leaving him to decide if he wanted to carry his things. You heard him trot up to you and you glanced sideways to see that he’d decided to carry the crate. You watched him out of the corner of your eyes admiring the long line of throat that was exposed by his unbuttoned shirt, a necessity in the jungle heat. You were so busy watching Poe that you almost missed the mop of glossy, ginger hair.

You tackled Poe off the path making him drop his crate of items. You covered his mouth and whispered a quick shush to him. You carefully peaked out of the brush watching as the ginger hair bypassed your hiding spot making you breathe a sigh of relief. Once the coast was clear, you pushed yourself upright fully, releasing his mouth.

“If you want me under you that badly, that’s all you need to say, sweetheart,” Poe laughed.

Once you realised the position you were in, you scrambled off of him. You hadn’t meant to end up straddling him. Hell, you hadn’t meant to touch him outside of getting him off the path. You made a rude gesture and started back on the path to your quarters, avoiding any of the common routes just in case.

You reached your quarters without further issues or run-ins with a certain ginger. You used your keycard to access your room and reveal your happily beeping droid.

“BB8 meet Poe,” you said, gesturing your droid toward the man. BB8 rolled happily around the man beeping greetings and questions at him. The droid was always up for making new friends and he was chipper enough that he usually made people smile, except Poe, who was looking at the little droid in horror.

“Beebs, buddy, can you do me a favor?” you called drawing the droid’s attention to yourself.

BB8 stopped circling Poe and focused on you, head bobbing an affirmative.

“Can you get the key card to stateroom 54 from Leia?” you asked.

The droid beeped another affirmative and charged out of the room at top speed, pausing only for the door to open. Poe watched the little droid go with a look of shock on his face.

“What the kriff was that?”

“Come on, Poe, surely even you’ve seen a droid before.”

“Why is it so bright and chipper?” he asked, still shocked.

“I think he’s perfect,” you answered.

“Just like a rebel to want something so bright and garish.”

You ignored the crack at your droid. You’d lovingly built and custom painted the droid yourself, he was damn near your child. When he built his own droid he could bitch about the color scheme. But knowing him, he’d want something drab and boring, just like a member of the First Order would like.

You ignored him and started collecting your few things from the shelves, trinkets that probably looked like garbage but held a place in your heart and dropped them in your duffel bag. The motherboard of the first droid you’d ever built, the carved tooth of a loth cat, shrapnel from your first dog fight all went into the bag making you feel nostalgic about your room.

The sound of fabric rustling made you turn around, and the sight that greeted you was straight out of a wet dream. Poe had laid on your small bed stretched out with his feet crossed at the ankle, his shirt unbuttoned exposing even more deliciously bronze skin and his muscular chest. His chestnut curls were tousled like he’d run a careless hand through them. The sight was mouth watering. You pulled your lip between your teeth while your gaze scanned over him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Poe asked seductively.

“No,” you answered quickly, turning back to your shelf. You weren’t going to play this game with him today, if ever.

The sound of fabric shuffling and a presence of heat clued you in to Poe standing behind you.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“What did I tell you about calling me kriffing sweetheart?” you growled.

You turned rapidly, angling a punch at him, but he caught your fist in one of his larger hands. You tried to pull away but his grip tightened on you. With a sharp tug you were pulled flush against him. Your pulse sped up as he gently grasped your chin pulling your face to his.

“I’ll call you whatever the kriff I want, sweetheart,” he told you, voice like dark silk.

His mouth was a hair's breadth away from yours, hovering, waiting. You closed the distance, your mouth fierce on his, the taste of him filled your head and mouth. He released your hand draping it over his shoulder and dipping his other hand to your waist, pulling your hips flush to his. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, marveling at the silken texture of his curls.

“Do you want this?” he whispered into your mouth.

You nodded. Your words had failed you the second your fingers touched his hair, the soft ringlets addicting under your fingers.

As his mouth moved against yours, he spun your bodies, turning them so that you were up against the wall. Your grip on his hair tightened and he let out a moan. In turn, he slotted one of his thighs between yours, giving you a delicious glimpse at the friction you already craved.

You moaned as he moved his leg again, pushing the seams of your clothes against your sensitive core. In response, he started kissing down your neck, lightly sucking the skin there. He didn’t spend too much time in one spot, not wanting to leave lasting marks. Your breath hitched as he gently bit at sensitive skin along your collar bones.

You continued running your fingers through his hair as he worked his way down your body, pausing to help you undress as he went. With each button he opened, he laid a kiss on your skin. Your breath caught when he got to the top of your pants. He looked up at you with hooded eyes, as if asking for further permission. You nodded your assent and he flicked open the button on your pants.

He worked your pants down your hips, taking your undergarments with them. You shivered when the heat of his breath puffed against your skin. You parted your legs a little, silently asking for his attention. He smirked.

Surprisingly, he was gentle and careful when he helped you out of your boots. He was sure to place them against the wall out of the way. He helped you step out of your pants and tossed them aside.

He knelt at your feet, getting comfortable on his knees, and nuzzled your belly. You squinted at the surprisingly affectionate move. He started kissing your body again, sucking and nibbling as he went. When he reached the edge of your curls, he looked up at you with a glint in his eye and smiled. Silently, he picked up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. The cool air hitting your warm core sent shivers down your spine.

He took his index finger and gently moved it through your folds, spreading the slick that began to gather there. You moaned as he circled your clit. Little by little he did this, and with each pass, his finger slowly sunk further in. On the final pass, his thumb rested against your aching clit and his finger sunk in all the way. He curled it against your sweet spot and your knee nearly buckled.

Your moans creeped up in pitch when he leaned forward and lifted your other leg over his shoulder. With your own shoulders pressed against the wall, he flicked his tongue against your clit, never stopping the movements of his finger. Just as you thought you couldn’t take anymore, and the heat in your belly built, he pulled his finger out. You huffed in frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you.” He said, whispering it against your core, just loud enough for you to hear.

One of your hands landed in his hair and you threaded your fingers through the strands and pulled forward, pressing his nose against your skin.

He laughed a little, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, making you let out a desperate sound. While you were distracted by the sensation, he slowly dipped two fingers inside your heat and curled them deliciously against your sweet spot. While he rapidly moved the tips of his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside, he sucked and flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves on the outside. You saw stars as your first orgasm of the night swept over you and took your breath away. He moaned into you as your grip on his hair became almost painful when the sensations took over you.

He didn’t stop his ministrations until you whimpered in discomfort, helping you ride through the peak of the orgasm and through the aftershocks. He slowly removed his fingers and swiped his tongue through your folds, gently tasting you. He hummed in approval at what he tasted.

You let go of his hair, and allowed your hand to fall to your side. He pulled away, gently settling your feet on the floor. When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he rose to his feet.

“How about we move to a more comfortable spot?” He tilted his head toward the bed.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, still panting, trying to catch your breath.

He kicked his boots off and kicked them next to yours. As he removed his own clothes, he tossed them one by one in the general direction yours had landed. He went to remove his own undergarments and stopped. You huffed in annoyance.

He wrapped his arms around your hips, hands grabbing the swell of your ass and lifted, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed and lowered you down. You made a noise of displeasure as you were reminded that the mattress was still bare. The noise is quickly replaced with a moan as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and sucked, adding a little pressure with his teeth. He moaned as you worked your fingers through his hair, tugging his head towards your other breast.

As he worked back and forth, teasing, biting, and sucking, he put weight on one hand and used the other to knead your breast, adding to the pleasure. You moaned and bucked your hips, trying to get more friction. He was leaning over you with just enough space between you that you couldn’t reach.

“In a hurry, sweetheart?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face. You glared but managed to refrain from smacking him. He seemed to sense this and laughed a little.

As an answer, you hooked your toes in the waistband of his underwear and used your feet to work them down his hips. He pulled away from you and slid them all the way off his legs. He leaned back into you, the weight of his hard cock, heavy on your thigh. He leaned forward, his knees shifting so that his thighs were as close to you as they could get, and hungrily kissed you, grinding down and pressing the weight of his body into yours, teasing you by thrusting his hips a little. You moaned into his mouth, your grip tightening in his hair.

He pulled away and looked at you intently.

“Well?” you huffed, “Are you going to make bedroom eyes at me all night or are you going to fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

You glared at him again, “Don’t call me that,” you grit out between clenched teeth.

“As you wish, Commander.”

You rolled your eyes.

He shifted his weight, so he could grip his cock in one hand. Leaning away from you a bit, so he had room to work, he slid it through your folds, coating it with your slick. You bucked your hips a little as his skin slid against yours in the best way. Still sensitive from earlier, your breath hitched as the head of his cock caught on your clit. You bucked your hips again and whined a little.

Slowly, he pressed into you then pulled out again. He did this several times, sinking further in, each time. The final pass, he sunk all the way in, and stopped moving. The intensity of the sensation was almost too much to take as you both adjusted to it. He seemed to start trembling, waiting for you to let him know he could move.

“If you don’t move, I’m going to strangle you,” you told him, through gritted teeth.

“Like this, sweetheart?” He slid out and roughly thrust in. He moaned, but you practically growled at the nickname. You were quickly distracted as he leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth again, working in time with his thrusting hips.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he paused to adjust himself. You made a noise of protest and he teased you some more. Didn’t thrust his hips, but moved his mouth around where he could reach, nibbling, and sucking. You huffed out in frustration.

You squinted at him when he decidedly ignores you in favor of a particularly sensitive spot. Having had enough of his teasing, you unlocked your ankles from behind his back, squeezed his hips, with your thighs, pushed on his shoulders with both hands, and flipped the both of you so that you were on top and he lay on his back, a shocked expression on his face.

“What? You were taking too long!” you bit out.

Without warning, you reached back and positioned his cock head at your entrance and slowly sunk down onto it. You both moaned and you grabbed both his hands to use them for leverage so you could better ride him. You picked up the pace once you got used to the new position. The sounds coming out of the both of you were sinful. You lifted up and slammed down, harder and harder. The ache in your hips and thighs built into a delicious burn. He worked one of his hands out of yours and pulled your face close to his and kissed you, swirling his tongue against yours. You moaned into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you nibbled and sucked your way down his chest leaving marks on his skin, as your bodies moved together. He threw his head back at the sensations and shamelessly groaned. You could feel his body tensing under yours, and you knew he was close. You carded your fingers through his hair and bit under his jaw, only to lick the sting away, sucking a little and leaving another mark.

His building climax fed into your own and you leaned back, putting your weight on his thighs.

“Touch me” you prompted.

“As you wish, Commander,” he grinned up at you.

You ground down on him, causing him to groan. As he reached up and grabbed your breasts, you reached down with one hand and rubbed your clit. You rocked your hips in aborted thrusts, and he thumbed at your sensitive nipples. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter and the sounds you both made got louder and louder.

Your orgasm crested, washing over you like a tidal wave. He planted his feet, grabbed your hips, and thrust into you, using your own orgasm to milk his own. He groaned out loudly as his hips met your ass in one strong, final thrust, and you felt him pulsing inside you.

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. You caught your breath and smiled. He laughed a little, the air puffing across your face.

Gently, he helped you off him and you both lay on your sides facing each other.

“Well. At least we don’t have to change the sheets” you mused.

He let out a bark of laughter, and threw one of his arms over his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed, still smiling.

You looked at the beautiful man laying next to you somewhat surprised that despite what your brain had said your body had wanted this, no needed this. You threw your arm over him, cuddling tight against his body while sleep dragged your eyelids down.

“Does this mean I can call you sweetheart now?” Poe asked softly.

“Do you really want to take that risk?” you murmured back sleepily.

“If it gets me more of this, kriff yes,” he replied before looking down and realising you’d fallen asleep against him.

[blues824]

may i rq obey me bros reaction to an mc whose a special fbi agent in the bau ? tyty

Lucifer

Wasn’t expecting to receive an exchange student that had such an important role at such a young age. Plus, you might hold the key to achieving Lord Diavolo’s dream. In addition to that, you both look awesome in suits.

He would ask you about your job and what a typical work day would look like. When you tell him about some of the criminals you had to evaluate and the more gruesome crime scenes, he genuinely wonders what went wrong while God was creating man.

Once, he took you out on a dinner date and he was impressed by how well you were able to evaluate his psyche. Lucifer is the last person I’d describe as lovesick, but when he found out about your accomplishments and overall competence… he has fallen irreversibly in love.

Mammon

Oh no. Not someone responsible and a borderline therapist! Luci, come pick him up. He’s scared. He doesn’t like how well you are able to read him based on his actions. It’s truly unsettling how you never take a break from analyzing behavioral patterns.

It’s funny whenever he comes running to complain to you about a shift and you’re just standing there like, “you think your job is hard?? You wouldn’t survive 5 seconds in my shoes!” You would often respond with your own experiences, what with all the gory crime scenes and criminals you had to evaluate.

Once, he took you out on a ride in his car and he was amazed at how well you were able to see the toxic relationship between him and his brothers. While you weren’t an actual therapist, you let him know that you would always be willing to lend an ear whenever he needed it.

Leviathan

He would have thought you were so cool. They didn’t have a government organization like the FBI in the Devildom, so everything he knew about it was either from TV or you. For once, he doesn’t freeze up because if the conversation gets dry, he’ll ask about your job.

He’s seen a crap-ton of anime, right? Some of them belong to the horror genre. When you tell him about the horrors of your job, he’s not disgusted. Instead, he’ll slowly wrap his arms around you, asking if you get nightmares because of it. If you say yes, he’d suggest having him sleep in your room.

One day, he invited you to hang out in his room. It was quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. In fact, both of you were watching a soft anime called ‘Orange’. You softly told him that regret was a common reason for committing a crime. You explained that grief manifested in different ways, sometimes destructive. It was intriguing to him.

Satan

He also thinks you're admirable. He’s read about what you do in his murder mystery novels that he enjoys reading so much. He would ask you about the most disturbing cases you had to deal with. You would tell him about a typical day on the job. He was like a sponge whenever you told him anything.

He wants to hear all about your job. The good, the bad, the ugly… all of it. He will often bring books and ask how accurate the story was. It would make for great conversations between the two of you. You have a bunch of anecdotes, and he has two fully functioning ears to listen to you.

One day, he treats you to a dinner date at a new cafe. You both had been reading a new murrder mystery series that recently found its way to your favorite book shop. You both enjoyed getting away from HoL to revel in each other's company. Y’all would talk about what you thought of the book as well as anything else that came to mind.

Asmodeus

If there’s one thing he knows about FBI agents, it’s that they can always pull off a tuxedo like nobody else can. So what does he do? Why, he makes suits for the both of you! Some suits match, others have elements that compliment each other. To him, it’s his way of telling the world that you’re his and he’s yours.

There will be a ton of self-care nights where both rant about anything that comes to mind. Asmo often found himself letting you do most of the talking. He gets to learn more about you by remaining quiet. For example, you are able to analyze patterns in certain crimes, furthering investigations by a significant amount.

Once, Asmo took you out on a shopping date for more fabrics and accessories for outfit ideas you had. On the way there, however, you looked in a nearby alley and saw crime scene tape and a police officer. You had a PTSD flashback and started hyperventilating. Asmo had to talk you through breathing normally and he quickly led you away.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t know much about your profession, but he’s willing to learn! He’s probably seen a few crime shows while snacking, so he might have some sort of clue. As you both make a delicious snack in the kitchen, he’d ask you questions about what you did and why you chose this profession over everything else.

There will be a few nights where he invites you to his room and you don’t really do anything besides eat and talk. Beel is a demon of few words, so he will often let you rant about how your life is adjusting to the Devildom and how you either miss or don’t miss your Human Realm job.

One night, Beel treated you to lunch at a higher-end restaurant. He would continue to ask you about the things you’ve witnessed in your worst cases. You told him about the gruesome crime scene, the unstable criminals you had to evaluate. He didn’t eat dinner that night, nor for any of the other nights following.

Belphegor

And here he thought all humans were weak. Well, physically, you are. But you have to be both mentally and emotionally ready to face what you do for work. He doesn’t know a ton about what you do, but he’s probably like Beel where he’s seen a few crime shows.

Many times, the others have caught you both wrapped up in each other’s arms, sleeping peacefully as though nothing was wrong with the world. However, he knows that you have nightmares. He can sense it even when he’s asleep. He often has to use his powers on you to get you a good night’s rest.

One night, you both were just hanging out in the attic when you told him something very personal. During your time as a BAU FBI agent, you were threatened, taunted, hurt, overwhelmed… but nothing prepared you for that day when Belphie decided to take your life. You told him that you were actually glad that you could join the souls you brought closure to, and that’s when he lost it. He let a few tears shed, whispering apologies left and right.

[dailytatsu]

I’m just full filing my own need of platonic Genshin content at this point-

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Zhongli & Child!Reader

Summary: A exception of the regular way to spend some quality time with your small human. A guide written by Rex Lapis

GN! Reader

Sorry for any mistakes!

Again, just a brainrot, don’t mind me-

This man talks like me trying to reach the required amount of words for an essay, wHy

Genshin impact masterlist

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Long ago, Zhongli's days off could be summed up in a couple of old-fashioned words: wake up early in the morning before the entire city of Liyue did, admire how the glaze lilies closed, and then wander aimlessly until the hours were consumed. To finally start a new day following his usual routine.

But that everyday life had been lost over the years, when an unpredictable and somewhat catastrophic element was added to his life, although it's not like he has any complaints about it.

After all, he had been able to fulfill a wish that he never believed he would have, one that he treasures today as the most valuable of relics.

“Hey… hey, are you asleep?” Zhongli heard above him, the cheerful voice that whispered, along with the little taps that he felt on his cheek made him open his eyes with the drowsiness still preventing him from fully understanding what was happening. Once his eyes adjusted to the daylight he could find (Y/N)'s small face looking at him curiously and warily. "A letter arrived, it's from the traveler!"

They kept talking in their animated voice, not caring that Zhongli straightened up on the bed and grabbed them under the armpits to sat them on his lap while he was still trying to fully wake up.

“It wasn't for me, but I read it, sorry. I tried to wait for you to wake up.”

The smile that Zhongli showed was faint and kind, the one that the little one in front of him reciprocated after his hand combed through the messy strands of their hair, still with the imprint of the pillow being the usual morning hairstyle.

“Good morning.” He said, a greet that was also a reminder about what are you supposed to say before starting a conversation. (Y/N) let out a nervous chuckle, noticing their mistake and correcting themselves, but Zhongli just shook his head and let them be, regardless their mistake. “I see. What does our friend has to share this occasion?”

He asked, getting out of bed and ready to start a new day.

(Y/N) told their interpretation of the letter, the parts they had understood were nothing more than ‘fun facts’ from free time of the traveler’s journey, leaving aside everything that contained a word they couldn't understand and some times making Zhongli stop halfway across the room, not understanding the context of what he was hearing and needing a second to think before keep going.

“They also said that they are coming for the next Latern Rite!”

“Then we shall make them company this time and make sure they have a great time as well.”

The rest of the small home was sunk in the silence of the morning, barely broken by the sound of the people on the street filtering through the window. Zhongli's cup was full of tea and (Y/N)'s glass had the safe amount of milk with honey. Almost looking like they weren’t drinking an insomnia remedy as they kept talking without pause, still full of energy.

Zhongli held the letter in his hands, catching on to the message and subconsciously smiling at the words. It wasn't anything serious, it wasn't an emergency either, and the very news filled his chest with relief. But in the midst of his happiness, the child’s voice was heard again, asking a question full of innocence but that made the heart of the old god tremble.

“Am I old enough now to go adventuring with them?”

He had a bad habit of forgetting, or even ignoring, the fact that the life in his care was affected by the passage of time unlike his own. He was supposed to already know that, that he had already psyched himself up about it, that’s why he signed that specific contract a couple years ago. Even with those painful clauses that were brought with it.

He can’t just imagine the day when their life ends, for The Seven! He didn’t even have told them everything about his past self! Why should he be worry now about that cruel event?

You couldn't blame him for feeling that way, from one second to another his mood had plummeted and now his face had returned to the usual stoic and enigmatic face. Without giving a clue about his true emotions, in turn causing confusion in the young one in front of him.

Zhongli shook his head, returning a smile to his face.

"Certainly you are close to being old enough to do so." A huge smile of excitement could be seen on (Y/N)'s face, but Zhongli had not finished speaking. He stood up from his chair and took the opportunity to hold the kid in his arms. “But let’s think for a second, time is what you have the most at the moment, from where is the rush to experience everything that life has to offer at such a young age?”

“But… !” The little one stirred in his arms and looked from side to side, trying to find a good argument to fight back. “And if I showed you that I'm ready to go on an adventure, would you let me go?"

Negotiations are something you'd expect from anyone who was born from Liyue, but Zhongli's surprise was more at the situation than at what he was hearing. He pretended to be interested in the bargain that was being offered to him, closing his eyes to appear as if he was meditating, and then he spoke again.

“Mmmh… Alright, I’ll hear what you have to say.”

"If I defeat hilichurl by myself!" They threw their arms up, their small face showing apparent bravery.

“For that you would have to be able to pick up a weapon by your own hand first.” Their eyes widened, as if they hadn't thought about it before, so their voice returned to a normal volume.

“… A mitachurl?”

Zhongli again pretended to consider the options before answering.

“I have to admit it. You are a difficult negotiator, it’s quite clear now."

(Y/N) laughed, and before they could argue any further they heard a stern and annoyed voice barking orders just a few feet outside their home. Both of them looked out the window, finding a novice worker stumbling and dropping a bunch of pages that went flying into the water.

“Ouh..." They turned their gaze to Zhongli, who was still attentive to what was happening outside. (Y/N) was almost afraid to interrupt him, but they considered that their question was really important. "Are you going to work today?"

"Actually that’s not the case, unless the director calls me on an urgent matter, there isn't much for us to do today." And he wasn't lying, there had been times when the flamboyant Hu Tao had requested his presence to check things out at the last minute. Times when her calls were so inconvenient that he even ended up taking (Y/N) with him. Repenting later when he realized that they had copied habits and phrases from the director, a true nightmare. “Is there something you would like to do?”

"Can we go fly a kite?" They asked, with a spark of excitement in their expressive eyes, almost begging for an affirmative answer that Zhongli did not hesitate to give.

"It sounds like a plan to me." He said, letting go the kid from his arms. "Find what you need to leave, in the meantime I will write a response for the traveler's letter."

"Okay!”

They ran out of the room and only their short, quick footsteps could be heard across the room. Instead, Zhongli only had to look inside a specific drawer to find the stack of blank sheets of paper and the inkwell.

Words weren’t difficult for him, he always found the right ones to express himself and not cause unnecessary misunderstandings, but this time he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. There were so many things to talk about but there was no way to fit them all on one page. All his vocabulary had gone flying away just like the documents of that young man who had stumbled.

Greetings are important, goodbyes are unnecessary. Perhaps that's why he's always had trouble ending his cards.

Zhongli sighed, putting down the brush and looking out the window again. Peace could be heard through the wind.

He didn't want to ruin the beautiful day that he had in front of him with that melancholy, they didn't deserve it either. But he suddenly found himself in a dilemma, being disturbed again by the memories that always came back at the most inconvenient moments.

“Found it!” The man gasped slightly at the unexpected call of the child who was standing in the middle of the room, being back from the ‘treasure hunt’ and holding the kite above their head. "It was under my bed."

"About that, (Y/N)" Zhongli interrupted, catching their attention. “I just remembered something, do you mind if we go somewhere first? The possibility that the wind will be stronger there at this time of year is quite high, you will certainly be able to play without your kite getting tangled in any trees.”

There is a second message in those kind words, his smile was not the typical one and it had a shadow of nostalgia and sadness behind, but (Y/N) didn’t catch the radical change in the mood and only nodded at him, with a huge smile that they expected to reach the man in front of them.

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The area beyond permitted to mortals is separated by little more than a natural barrier, wide open fields stretching down the valley to Minlin. The wind is cleaner than anywhere else in Liyue and there is nothing that dares to break the harmonious silence of nature.

It’s not exactly the place where you would take a child, the paths are poorly marked and it is normal that there are bandits hiding in every corner, but that only applied to conventional people. And that was precisely what Zhongli wasn’t.

Leading (Y/N) by holding their hand and repeating to them one of his favorite stories is how the journey turns at least at little more interesting than if it were just mountain climbing in silence.

Mt. Aocang is a place that seems isolated from the passage of time in general. The water is always clear and clean, and everything is always where it should be. Perhaps it was the work of her guardian, or maybe it was just nature itself swaying the peaceful scenery, but one thing was for sure: the feeling that the landscape conveyed to Zhongli was as painful as it was comforting.

“You think Cloud Retainer is at home?”

(Y/N) shyly hid behind Zhongli and whispered every word, seeking safety even if it wasn't necessary.

“Hmm? Why do you ask? You don’t like her?”

"… she said the drawing I did of her looked primitive."

Their voice trembled and then hid their face against the dark clothes of the person in front of them; the shared memory of an even younger (Y/N) and inexperienced Zhongli summed up the Adeptus being quite critical about the doodles of a human child. He also remembers how long it took him to calm down (Y/N), who was close to developing a trauma if it wasn't for Ganyu's help at the right time.

"And do you know what that word means?"

"No... but it sounds mean.”

“There, there.” His eyebrows curved slightly and he gave a half smile, it seems that the damage was deeper than he thought. “Go play around for a while, I'll be in the center of the pond, don't worry." Zhongli pointed to the stone table under the big tree and then patted (Y/N)'s head one last time before starting to walk.

He was going to continue, but a hunch made him look back again, almost as if a paternal instinct told him that something was not right. The little one was holding the edge of their shirt with one hand while the other clung to the kite, there was an anxious expression on their face, as if they wanted to say something.

“Is there a problem?"

(Y/N) looked down to their feet.

“I wanted… I wanted to play with you.”

Sometimes Zhongli was surprised at how direct and expressive they were for a child of their age. He was proud, he would never deny it; you could feel it in every word he used to describe them, but also he feared that a day when he would belittle their emotions without noticing.

“…I see, thanks for telling me.” Zhongli squatted until he was almost at their height, the kid came dragging his feet on the ground and with a sad expression still on their face. “Remember that time when I told you that there is a time and a place for everything?”

“Mm-hm… ”

“Then you will have to forgive me, but there is something I need to do now. However, this doesn't mean that I won't join you in a while, you think you can start without me this time?” (Y/N) nodded, eyes lost and looking at the ground.

Zhongli's apology was as genuine as the guilt he felt in his chest, reaching behind the small head and leaving a short kiss on the top as an silent apology to right after stand up again.

“Well then.” Zhongli couldn’t help but tense his shoulders when (Y/N) almost stumbled after running away to find the right place to catch the wind. A weird feeling igniting on his chest, perhaps the instinct of a worried and inexpert father. “And don’t play near the edge!”

“Okay!”

His footsteps are silent, almost completely erasing his presence with each meter of distance he traveled until the huge shadow of the tree crossed the silhouette of his. The leaves fly and dance in the wind before landing in the pond to become tiny drifting boats that float to and fro.

In the background he can hear the whistle of the wind itself and the adorable expressions of amazement of the infant each time his kite was raised. His past and his present coexisted in the same space, it was a strange calm that was fascinating.

In front of him is nothing but empty space, his amber eyes are closed and his concentration is entirely on his breathing. Deep, slow, controlled, but a part of him was ready to react if necessary.

He felt his body relax under the warmth of the sun, there is no worry, all the problems of the world had disappeared and only the memories that he treasured so much remained.

Until they were stained red, and a terrifying image invaded his mind followed by the dark melody of chaos coming from the horizon.

He opened his eyes again, feigning serenity, but the frantic beating of his heart could not fool anyone. Zhongli was enveloped by a nameless symphony of emotions, and for a moment he wanted to leave everything behind.

“Hey… you fell asleep?… ”

But he can’t. Because there is someone who needs him more than anyone else in the world.

“I wasn’t sleeping, but I do was dreaming.” Zhongli didn’t immediately turn towards them, he imagined the expression of curiosity and concern on their face trying to understand what was happening, so he took his time to answer. “You're back sooner than I expected, did you find something interesting or did you get tired?”

“Yeah, something like that… ” They paused, thinking about all the words they needed before talking again. “Uhm… would you be mad if I accidentally tripped and fell into the water?"

“Huh… ?” Zhongli finally relented, genuinely confused by the question and turned to his right. (Y/N)’s clothes were soaked as was their hair, surprisingly only from the front, making it clear that their question was, actually, a confession. “Oh dear, what just happened?”

“… I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) was sniffling and keeping their eyes on the ground to not shed a tear, but now that they were in front of Zhongli they actually felt afraid of his reaction.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. Come here.” Zhongli took out a handkerchief from inside his coat, and then opened both his arms to invite them to come closer. Him giving them safety words to show them that he wasn't upset, also complimenting the fact that they didn’t cried after falling and had gotten up on their own. Without caring that his clothes ended up wet as well. “You just need to be more careful next time, understood? Let’s hope you don’t catch a cold.”

“I don’t like how medicine taste… ”

“I know you don’t, dear.” They frowned and squeezed their eyes shut as Zhongli wiped their face clean, holding back the urge to sneeze. "There you go.” (Y/N)'s clothes hadn't been completely cleaned, some mud stains had soaked into their sleeves and the rest remained damp, but that was what they could do for now. "Are you going back to play some more?"

Surprisingly (Y/N) denied.

“Then would you like to sit here and rest with me before we leave?”

They meditated a bit, an exaggerated ‘mmh’ coming from their throat.

“Yes please."

Zhongli wasted no time lifting the child from under their arms again and helping them sit on his lap. A hand holding them from behind to give them support and the small figure of them leaning against the man. Their big eyes dart around the table, looking curiously but not asking a single question about the utensils near.

Somehow, they knew that it was not right to talk about it.

“Wait, I got something for you!” (Y/N) reached into the pocket on the side of their clothes to find the mysterious gift. And their very enthusiasm caused Zhongli to laugh heartily. “Here, here, give me your hand!”

Zhongli was expecting a withered flower, an oddly shaped stone, he would have even expected a piece of wet wood. But, against all odds, (Y/N) handed him a small creature that writhed uncontrollably.

Slimy texture and squishy exterior, just the sound the creature made trying to escape was enough for an unpleasant memory to well up from the bottom of his mind. The smell was odd as well, no wonder why it had captured their attention.

“It's a tadpole! If you put it in water it turns into a toad!”

He swallowed any hint of displeasure at the creature and could barely control the shiver that ran down his spine. The person who always had something to share was gone, and now there was only the speechless Zhongli who couldn't find the words to deal with the situation.

“… I see, it’s a lovely creature indeed, quite fascinating… ”

Maybe that was his punishment for his past crimes, not having enough courage to break the happiness that could be seen in (Y/N)’s eyes, condemned to be in charge of a child who was interested in the most peculiar (and some times disgusting) things of the world.

But that didn't stop him from taking the first chance he got to throw the tadpole over his shoulder, using the excuse that it had slipped from his hands and relief he felt that (Y/N) hadn't saddened was immeasurable. Managing to quickly change the subject.

The sunset arrived, and with it was the time to go back home. Both were exhausted, wishing that they hadn’t to leave that natural peace. And yes, maybe the trip was long and difficult, but they could agree that the view worth it.

A few days later, Aether and Paimon were reading the reply to their last letter before going to bed, taking longer than usual due to the extension of it.

Three whole pages telling about things that had no relation to each other, but the way the elegant handwriting shared space with the small drawings on the edge of the pages it was easy to guess the reason why it was different from the last time.