#My memory may be failing me here

[nancysammy]

I'd like to offer a different perspective, and extend an invite to examine what assumptions are being brought in by the game, and what assumptions are brought in by its players.

Its likely that this is simply an offhand example from OP's table, but I was a bit surprised reading it, because I think that BitD might be more interested in the nitty gritty of its rules than it's getting credit for.

I think the Blades rules are fantastic, because they're flexible to storytelling and interpretation, they're not *prescriptive* but they are certainly assigned specific stats and mechanics.

With the example of crafted items here - - a crafted item won't have a +1 bonus the way it might in D&D, but all crafted items do have specific mechanical features in addition to their effects. Namely: tier level, number of uses, and sometimes drawbacks.

These follow from a combination of fictional and mechanical elements. The rules ask:

~What kind of effect does this item have, and how big is that effect?

+ This is a fictional element, based on player imagination

~what Quality level must be reached to achieve that effect?

+ This is a mechanical element, based on crew tier and the player roll

~From there, drawbacks and uses might apply

+ These are mechanical elements that are assigned based on established fiction

These rules are so fun to me because of the way that fiction and mechanic blend and work together! An item's tier tells you something pretty specific and non-negotiable, whereas drawbacks have a bit of both mechanic and fiction. The drawback "Conspicuous", for example: is it conspicuously bright, or loud, does it cause a ripple in the ghost field? That's up to the table to decide, but we know for sure that it will cause you to take +1 Heat whenever it is used.

Additionally, there does exist a list of sample creations in the rulebook that are "well known by tinkerers in Duskwall" that can be created without additional research/study. The list isn't prescriptive - - these aren't the ONLY creations that can be made, but a list to work from does exist in the rules as-writ.

(If any Blades players want to take a peek - the rules I'm referencing are pages 224-228 in my copy.)

I think there are games that come in with the assumption that the player will act and be interested in acting as a competent storyteller without much structural help (eg Fiasco). But ironically, I think the lighter a game is mechanically the trickier it becomes to actually play, because it relies on skills that the game won't teach.

And also, on a less related note, I think that quote-unquote "good tabletop storytelling" can be many things. Really "zoomed-in" and tactile stories that are really interested in individual character thoughts, feelings and motivations, and really "zoomed out" and abstracted play like moving pieces on a grid to represent faction interplay. I guess this is where game design might be interested in drawing the line between whether fiction follows mechanics, or whether mechanics follow fiction. Either way though, the mechanics and the fiction should be shaking hands.

Have to say, one of the biggest hurdles in introducing one of my usual gaming groups to a system like Blades in the Dark is the idea that items don't have defined stats and are instead props to twist the fiction in interesting ways. It often feels like I'm using therapy speak on a very literally minded engineer.

Player: Alright, I've spent some downtime crafting, what can I make? Me: What would you like to make : ) ? Player: Like, is there a list? Me: Nope : ) , you're limited by your imagination and what we agree would be best for the story. Player: Well are there suggested guidelines for what an appropriate item would be? What Bonuses It can give me? Me: Items don't really give bonuses : ) , now how about you tell me what emotions finishing this project stirs in your character? Player: What was even the point of this? Also stop saying ": )" I don't know how you're doing that with your mouth.

Honestly it's a fascinating study in what assumptions ttrpgs make about the people playing them: Namely that a prospective BitD player has some personal skill or desire to act as a storyteller, and doesn't put much emphasis on the nitty-gritty of the rules.

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

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@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

[dduane]

Oh, just in passing: a couple of SPOCK'S WORLD notes

(from @magicalgirlcrazycatlady:

!!!!!!! AUDIOBOOK SPOCK'S WORLD!!!! EXISTS? READ BY THOSE TWO?????????

Yep. If you go over to, say, Ebay, you can usually find somebody selling the audiobook on cassette (and if you're very lucky, on CD).

It hasn't been reissued in decades, and I can't really be sure why. It may be that there are union-based (meaning SAG[-AFTRA]) issues with the way Nimoy and Takei were compensated for the original performances; so that if the audiobook was reissued in more modern media, the publisher would have to deal with the way union rules for such performances have changed. (Which might run into serious money.)

In any case, it's a shame it's not more readily available. Both of the gentlemen involved did a fabulous job. I've had the pleasure of telling George so, and I'm sad not to have been able to tell Nimoy the same. (sigh) Anyway, it was a pleasure and a privilege to be involved in the endeavor.

...Also, per @rightspocko:

#oh my god you did that in 2 weeks#and you rewrote it so quickly and it’s still superb!#i never would’ve guessed because it’s so well structured and well written

The rewrite went as well as it did (and frankly as well as it could have done, under the circumstances) because before I ever started work on that book, I'd written a comprehensive outline.

It's not widely understood, I think, that when you're writing for a big IP owner / licensor, it is impossible to sell them a new project without first writing an outline that makes plain what it'll contain. Pantsing—however much some writers may enjoy that mode of novel writing, however much some may feel it to be the superior mode—has no place in the licensed-universe sales process. No licensor is going to even agree in principle with your agent that you're going to be brought in to do an original novel, let alone write the contract to back up their intent, until you've submitted an outline that tells Corporate in considerable detail what they (and their stockholders) are going to be getting for their money.

In the case of Spock's World, this rule went double, perhaps triple—regardless of the success of my previous work for Trek and Pocket. Spock's World was going to be their very first ever hardcover Star Trek novel. The whole project was a gamble... and the corporate Powers that Be therefore needed to know exactly what I was going to be giving them. So I did what I usually do for a book of the projected length—an outline somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-25 single-spaced pages. (ETA: For the hell of it, I just spent half an hour or so digging around for it, and [at the virtual "bottom" of a storage hard drive] found the ancient .arc file in which it'd been packed away. The outline is dated March 3rd, 1988, and comes to about 22 single-spaced pages. ...Call it 8K words and change.)

The outline, as always, was the "road map" I'd drawn for where I was going, to avoid wasting time in possibly getting lost along the way. All the structural work and serious plotting was already complete in the outline... ready to have the prose racked up in it, as a bookshelf's built ready to house its books.

And that's why the result, despite the near-disaster, still looks okay. All I had to do* was write again what "lost material" I'd already written, with the outline to guide me, or prompt me, where my memory failed. To this day I feel strongly that the book was significantly better because of that second write-through, however enforced. So this whole process turned into kind of a blessing in disguise (despite my poor lower back's more or less constant screams of protest).

That outline was what saved my butt... as others would, in years to come, further down the line. Those interested in having their own butts saved when necessary, and their writing life generally made less stressy, can look over here and see the outlining "blueprint" I use. C. J. Cherryh put me onto it; and what Carolyn doesn't know about writing a well- and tightly-plotted SF novel, seriously doesn't matter.

...And now I'm going to go make some spaghetti sauce. :)

*"All I had to do." CAN I EVEN HEAR MYSELF. (helpless laughter) It was like climbing hand over hand out of hell. But at least I could always see the light at the top of the tunnel...

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.” 

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive. 

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.” 

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?” 

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent. 

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance. 

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens. 

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.” 

“Much.” 

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one. 

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet. 

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric. 

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back. 

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders. 

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer. 

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon���s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss. 

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra @avalyaaa

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[xxsabitoxx]

Steam Room

Megumi x Female Reader

Warnings: Megumi and reader are around 22-24 in this, public sex, submissive megumi, edging megumi, switch megumi, dominant reader, submissive reader, it’s a whirlwind okay. Blowjobs, handjobs, come eating, rough sex, restraining, humiliation, creampies, possibility of getting walked in on, sweat… yeah

A/N: third scheduled post! Again, you may have already seen this on my ao3 cause I posted it a few weeks back. Still, enjoy!

Word count: 3.5k

The room was thick with steam, your bodies sticky from the sweat clinging to them. “Shit…oh fuck please…” choked and embarrassed, Megumi’s face was flushed red from more than just the sauna. Your head was bobbing steadily along the length of his aching cock, violently twitching in the warm cavern of your mouth every time your tongue passed over the head. Despite the heat of the room, your mouth was somehow hotter.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Megumi’s voice was slightly higher in pitch, whiny even, as your tongue slid along the underside of his cock. He was growing desperate at this point, you had led him to the brink of coming three times now, cruelly stopping just before he reached the end. You felt your lips twitching with the urge to smirk, unable to as your head continued to move up and down around him. “S-seriously don’t fucking sto-oh.” You pulled away again, wiping your mouth with a sadistic grin.

Megumi looked pissed, brows creased and lips wobbling as his cock twitched, precum weeping from his tip at yet another failed orgasm. “Stop fucking doing that.” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. For a moment you actually felt pity, meeting his watery gaze through the steam of the sauna room. “You’ve been such a naughty boy, Megumi.” He looked down at you with a pout on his face, clearly confused and disgruntled. “You don’t even know what you did?”

“What I did–” Megumi rasped out, plump lips hanging open as he stared at you with furrowed brows. “Oh…” It came back to him then, fond memories of him doing the exact same thing to you no less than two days prior. “T-this is my payback for…” he gasped as your fist tightened around his shaft, tugging hard and slow. “Payback for tying me to our bed and edging me for two fucking hours.” Megumi hissed as you tugged particularly rough, pleasure shooting all the way up his spine as your pretty hand toyed with his already too sensitive cock.

“L-Listen I-I…oh fuck…oh…” His head fell back, skin glistening with sweat as his hips nearly jerked off the bench. You watched, fully enthralled by the sight of his throat bobbing and jaw clenching as he tried not to make a complete fool of himself. “Listen to what, Megumi?” again, just as quickly as you started, you stopped. Megumi’s tip was turning an angry shade of pink, irritated from the contant relief being tugged away from him when he least expected it.

“Fuck please… your mouth…” He was whining again, every ounce of respect he had for himself flying out the window at the sight of your swollen lips just inches from his aching cock. Those same lips curled into a cruel smirk, eyes trialing over the dips and plains of the muscles that made up Megumi. “It would be so awkward if someone walked in on us right now, don’t you think? A guy and a girl in the men’s sauna, completely naked, the guy whimpering pathetically while his girlfriend edges him over and over… really awkward, don’t you think Megumi?”

You reached down to cup his balls, mouth watering at the sight of the precum dripping steadily from his tip. You wanted him in your mouth, down your throat, crying and begging you to let him cum. But you loved to taunt him even more, not a single thing was tying Megumi down to the sauna’s bench… but your words had him glued into his space. “It would be so easy for you to take over, Megumi. Pull me up by my hair and throw me on the bench, fuck me stupid until you’ve got what you wanted and then leave me hanging… yet you sit here for me, obedient.”

He only whimpered, pretty lips wobbling as your other hand rested at the base of his shaft. His whole body was flushing a shade of pink at this point, more so from you than the sauna. “Do you want my mouth, Megumi?” you were going to give it to him either way, an absolute sucker even when you were cruel. “Yes… please I want your mouth so bad.” He needed to feel it, your wet tongue lathering his cock in the way that made his fucking toes curl. You knew just how to make him putty in your hands, how to fuck him stupid with out having to do anything at all.

“Then beg for it, better than that.” You smiled up at him, batting your lashes innocently while he squeezed his eyes shut. You would be the death of him, he was absolutely sure of it. “Please… fuck please let me come… mommy please.” It slipped out so naturally you wouldn’t have thought anything of it until Megumi himself froze. Your lips fell open, eyes locking with his as he seemed to turn the deepest shade of red possible. “Mommy, huh? Didn’t think you were into that kinda thing, Megumi…” Your hand had begun to massage the flesh of his balls again, your free hand coming up to wrap around the base of his shaft as you observed him.

“Does my baby boy want mommy to suck his cock?” You purred, eyes narrowing as you gauge his reaction. He twitched, nearly violently, as his lips quivered. “T-this is so embarrassing.” he whined, nodding his head to answer your question. You clicked your tongue “that’s not how mommy likes her answers, use your words like a big boy, Meg.” You tightened your grasp around his base, causing him to jerk forward from the sudden pressure. Hesitantly with a weak voice “Mommy please suck my cock… I want to cum so bad… Mommy please…”

Shiny tears were pricking his eyes, threatening to slide down his reddened cheeks. That was enough for you, your head moving forward and dropping down to encompass him. Megumi’s head fell back, a loud guttural moan leaving his lips as you swallowed around him. Your tongue slid along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins that ran along it as you bobbed your head. You wouldn’t torture him any further, allowing him to cum when he was ready. Based on the way he was gripping the edge of the sauna’s bench, he would fall apart within seconds.

“Gonna… oh fuck m’gonna… mommy please…” he babbled, nearly incoherent as you focused your attention on his leaking tip. His salty precum coated your tongue, increasing in volume with every pass of your fist over his spit-covered shaft. Finally, his hand found its way to your head, gripping your hair so harshly you couldn’t help but whine around him. “Gonna… oh shit… fuck…” a string of profanities left his lips, your name falling in between each one as he came in your mouth. You worked Megumi through it, greedily swallowing his release until you felt him relax.

You pulled off of him as he began to soften, moving to stand and stretch your aching legs. “Who would have thought that Megumi Fushiguro has a mommy kink.” You grinned down at his tired face, voice slightly hoarse from everything you just did. It took you a second too long to process the tired expression morph into annoyance. Even after blowing his load, even though you had his legs feeling like jelly, Megumi managed to move faster than you could think at that moment. “H-hey!” You squeaked, flinching as your back met the hard wooden bench of the sauna.

“You’re so fucking dead, pulling that shit out of me.” Megumi was seething with embarrassment, unable to handle the fact that he had called you mommy willingly. “Oh come off it, Meg. You loved every second of it.” You could feel him twitching back to life, settling his body weight on top of your own. “Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s still embarrassing” His cheeks were permanently stuck on a shade of rosy pink, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them above your head. “You gotta learn some manners, it’s not nice to put people in that kind of vulnerable position.”

Megumi’s voice had dropped into something more sultry, leaving you to feel helpless as he slotted his hips against yours. “Gonna have to fuck some sense into you, mommy.” It was full of sarcasm but you couldn’t deny the way it made your cunt clench around nothing. “Do it, fuck some manners into me, Megumi…” You were panting, the heat of the sauna paired with Megumi’s weight on top of you made you realize how sticky your skin felt. Megumi’s cock was hard again, leaking precum and twitching with need to be inside of you.

“So filthy, you’d probably love it if someone walked in on us right now. Wouldn’t you, mommy?” You nodded, lips parted as you panted. “Yes… fuck yes I would… it would be so humiliating… we’d get kicked out for sure…” you whined, hips jutting upwards to grind against him. That realization had Megumi hesitating a little less, the urge to tease you now replaced with the worry of getting caught. Not that it would be the first time you two had been walked in on… but getting caught in the sauna room would mean removal… he couldn’t bear the thought.

Megumi’s brows furrowed, head moving to look down at your sweaty bodies. “Be good and keep quiet, Mommy. We really don’t want to get kicked out before I can fuck some sense into you.” Your lips trembled before pressing tightly together, nodding obediently as Megumi reached down to guide his tip between your folds. He dragged it slowly, still sticky from his cum and your saliva… and now your own arousal. “Relax.” Was all Megumi said before pushing into you, shivering despite the heat because of the way you inhaled so sharply. The grip he had on your wrists with just one hand kept you from jerking too far from him.

You were soaked, but Megumi was far too big to go in with no prep. You couldn’t help the whine that left you, your ankles locking behind the small of his back to keep him in place despite the ache spreading all the way down to your thighs. He was heavy, splitting you open inch by inch as he engulfed himself in your heat. “M-megumi…” Your hips shifted, trying to alleviate some of the pressure but it only caused him to brush that one particular spot. You swore you saw stars for a moment, a loud cry leaving your lips only to be silenced by Megumi’s free hand slapping over your mouth. “What did I say about being quiet, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, not even a muffled attempt behind his palm. Megumi didn’t move his hand away, glaring down at you “You love to think you can put me in my place, don’t you?” Megumi bottomed out as he spoke, the bulbous head of his cock pressing snuggly to your cervix just because he knew how much it made you squirm. “You’re so cute when you’re naive.” He added softly, carefully moving his hand away from your mouth so he could find better grounding. “This is your last warning, make any noise above a whisper and I’m pulling out.” You nodded, jaw clenched as you tried to remain quiet. You knew Megumi never made empty promises.

Megumi’s head fell forward, catching you off guard as he smashed his lips to yours. Your lips parted shakily, allowing his tongue entrance as the hand he had been using to cover your mouth snaked down to hold your thigh. Megumi’s hips drew back until he was half way out of you, pushing forward again with the same haphazard intent. His only goal was to fuck you until your hips were brusied and he’d likely need to help you walk out of this sauna. You moaned into his mouth, fingers twitching for something to grasp but his grip on your wrists was as strong as iron, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. Every pass of his cock through your velvety walls had you seeing stars, each graze of that one particular spot had your hips jerking into him.

Megumi pulled away, eyes lidded as saliva kept your tongues connected. He was panting, face still stuck in that permanent flush as his hips connected with yours over and over. Sweat was making his skin shine, his usually unruly hair was starting to flatten from the humidity in the room. You had to admit, he never looked more beautiful than he did at that very moment. “Y-You’re so pretty… Megumi!” Your head tilted back, a silent cry leaving your lips as your orgasm brewed deep in your gut. Even with your clit neglected, you swore Megumi would make you cum untouched in that sense. “You’re…fuck you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded, panting heavily but managing to keep yourself quiet for him. “I can feel it… your cunt is clenching so–ha–so fucking tight… so greedy.” Megumi’s jaw was clenching, trying to silence his own noises as if you hadn’t had him on the verge of tears only a few minutes prior. Megumi’s head dipped lower again, lips pressing to your ear as he spoke “Gonna cum without me playing with your clit?” it was nearly a growl, making you whine breathlessly as you uttered out a small “yes.” Megumi huffed out a laugh, rolling his hips into you slowly. He wouldn’t be that cruel to you, especially knowing how hard you came every time he toyed with your cunt.

The deliberate roll of his hips pressed his pubic bone snuggling to your cunt, rubbing along your clit with each draw back and forth. “O-oh shit… Megumi…. Megumi please…” You wailed softly, voice hoarse and full of need as you strained to keep your cries on the quieter side. “Please what? What does mommy need so badly?” He was hitting deep, kissing your cervix before grinding his hips hard. “To cum… I need to cum, Megumi. Please… oh fuck please let me…” You begged, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. It felt like pressure, the kind that made your toes curl but kept your orgasm just out of your reach. Your cunt was aching, pulsing around every inch of his cock that was stuffed inside of you.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Earn it.” You froze, gasping loudly as Megumi halted all movements. The tingling pressure of your impending orgasm was fizzling away into nothing. Still, you had never felt as full as you did right now. “E-earn it?” you questioned, unintentionally pulling against the restraint that was Megumi’s grasp on your wrists. “Earn it, apologize for humiliating me.” He wasn’t letting it go, that realization made your cunt clench tightly, suctioning to him and pulling a wanton moan from his lips. “M-megumi.” You didn’t want to apologize, your pride wouldn’t allow it. But still… if you wanted to cum. “Say it, Mommy. Apologize for edging me… for making me call you mommy…” Your nose scrunched, “I didn’t make you… you said it your–oh!”

Megumi pushed into you more, not going anywhere since there was nowhere to go but it only made the pressure more intense. “I don’t give a fuck. Apologize or you’re getting nothing.” But even then, you knew Megumi wouldn't be able to pull out and leave you hanging. Still, you were getting impatient, and likely dehydrated with all the sweating you were both doing. The physical activity didn’t help of course. “F-fine… fuck I’m sorry Megumi… I didn’t mean to suck you off so good that you had to call me mommy.” Your tone was full of sarcasm, a devious grin pulling at your lips as Megumi’s cold stare turned into one of shock. “Un-fucking-real.”

You yelped loudly as Megumi drew his hips back completely, leaving you empty as he pushed himself up and off of your body. “Megumi–” you squeaked, thinking you had actually offended him until he was yanking you up with him. “Looks like I forgot my reason for doing this in the first place…” You could only let out a noise of confusion as Megumi’s hands were on your wrists again, pulling them behind your back as he spun you around. You yelped as he pushed you forward, thanks to the sauna set up your knees were digging into the bench you had been sitting on while the top half of you was pressed to the platform of the next.

“You’ve got to watch that filthy mouth of yours.” A hard slap rang through the small space, accompanied by your quiet cry and pain blooming on your ass cheek. Megumi didn’t hesitate, thrusting back into you so quickly it nearly hurt. With your arms restrained, you could do nothing to aid yourself in this new position, having to let Megumi have his way. “Apologize.” Megumi barked, hip snapping into you at a brutal pace, you couldn’t even think straight anymore. Your brain felt like it was melting into mush as Megumi brutally fucked into you. “I’m not hearing–fuck– an apology…” you whimpered in response, trying to pull yourself together to say something–anything– that would satisfy Megumi’s wishes.

“C’mon you can’t be that far gone… or maybe I’m really just that good and fucking you stupid.” he spat, aching to slap your ass again as it jiggled with each snap of his hips. “M-megumi!” you blubbered, tears leaking down your face as every snap of his hips hit that one particular spot. You were going to pass out at this rate, a mix of the steam, your activity, and now your tears were going to do you in before you could even finish. “I’m s-sorry, Megumi.” you wailed, fat globs of tears soiling your pretty face as your cunt sputtered around his cock. “I’m so sorry f-for embarrassing–” you hiccuped, sniffling harshly as you tried to continue.

But that was more than enough for Megumi, his hand sneaking around your front and dipping between your thighs to start rubbing circles on your clit. “Shh… that’s it…” he murmured as you dissolved into tears, he leaned forward to place kisses along your sweat spine as he worked on bringing you over the edge. As much as Megumi liked to be cruel to you, the tears always did him in. He was a sucker for you, especially when you cried too prettily for him. “Gonna make you cum, pretty girl.” he sighed, hips working overtime as he tried to stave off his second orgasm “Your apology is accepted, baby. You’re doing so good.” he praised as you hiccuped.

You whispered his name over and over, his fingers working wonders on your clit as your orgasm quickly built again. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Ruin me.” his voice was low, full of need, making you clench as your orgasm grew nearer. You’d cum any second now, making a mess of yourself, Megumi, and the poor sauna bench below you. It only took a few more snaps of his hips and you were coming hard. A strangled cry of his name left your lips, just loud enough to make Megumi work faster in fear of someone coming to check on the two of you. “Shit… fuck…” more profanties left Megumi’s lips as your cunt covered him in your release, creating a ring around the base of his dick and sending him over the edge. Megumi spilled into you, whining your name just as loud.

Megumi let go of your wrists once he could breathe again, pulling out of you slowly and huffing out a laugh when only a little bit of his cum leaked out. “You okay?” he sat down, carefully grabbing your waist and pulling you down to his level. Sleepily you nodded, pressing your head to his sweaty shoulder. “Thirsty… we gotta get out of here.” You motioned to the towels you had come in wearing, feeling rather than hearing Megumi laugh in response. “I don’t think we raised any suspicions… but they’ll certainly be worried about how long we’ve been in here.” You nodded, trying to will yourself into a sitting position so you could get yourself covered and out of the damned sauna. All you wanted now was water, a bath, and your shared bed.

“C’mon, Meg. Mommy is tired.” You smirked at him as you straightened, watching his shoulders sag as he looked at you. “Was that apology fake?” He chided, getting up to grab his towel as well. “Course it wasn’t… you’re just fun to tease… Daddy.” you glanced over your shoulder at him, mischief glittering in your tired eyes. For the first time that night, Megumi kind of understood why the whole “mommy” thing was appealing to you. “You’re too much.” he sighed, returning your smile as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “You know you love it.” You offered in return, securing the towel in place as you turned to face him. “Yeah… I do.”

[brittle-doughie]

My last two asks were eaten by the dreaded askbox kraken so here goes attempt 3 at one of these:

I had the thought of Y/N Cookie being a keeper of the Ivory Pagoda and one of Mystic Flour's most trusted guards, and potentially her lover, who she gave the task of protecting her cocoon at all costs when she sealed herself away.

They stood strong against most who sought to break the cocoon, but when they eventually fell in battle and the cocoon was breached for the first time, Mystic Flour did not take it kindly and effortlessly annihilated those who struck down Y/N Cookie, taking their crumbled body into the cocoon with her when she resealed herself, to safeguard what was left.

Volition’s End (Mystic Flour Cookie)

She entered the cocoon as a savior. She’ll leave it as anything but…

You hummed to yourself as you swept the temple floor, the specks of dust floating away with each brush to the floor. It was just one of many tasks given you as guard captain of the temple, as permitted by the will of Mystic Flour Cookie.

You gazed up at her statue in awe and respect to the great hero, no matter how many times you’ve seen it in your days at the Grand Temple. It only showed the amount of admiration you’ve had for her.

The other guards teased you that it was definitely more then just admiration for Mystic Flour Cookie. You wanted to say they were wrong, it was just the amount of respect you held for her, but were they really wrong in the end?

Admiration….

Admiration that blossomed into….

“Ah, already up and at it again, eh captain?”

Cloud Haetae Cookie, the faithful guide for Mystic Flour Cookie. You’ve known them for as long as you resided here at the temple. They might have been here long before you showed up, but they’re still as adorable and cheerful as ever!

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure the temple is nice and clean for when Mystic Flour Cookie finally emerges from the cocoon and graces us as the Leavened One.”

“You’ve been saying that every day, you know. Always talking about how our master will really come out of the cocoon this time! Oooh, like an obsession!”

“I am not obsessed, I simply expressed excitement and hope that we’ll finally see her again..don’t read too much into it…”

“Do you really expect me to believe that, captain~? I’ve seen the way you and our master see each other before she entered the cocoon! It’s so obvious, almost everyone knows about you two!”

“Quiet….”

“Hehehe, you know I’m right! Now give me some rubs!”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault your rubs are so good!”

“…..”

“…..” (They’re giving you the puppy dog eyes)

“Alright alright, stop whining, you.”

Cloud Haetae Cookie transforms into their Haetae form, giggling and laughing as you rub their head and stomach. It never fails to give you a small smile, seeing Cloud Haetae Cookie so happy…

It makes the wait for Mystic Flour Cookie bearable…

———————————————————————

“What is that in your hands, Y/N Cookie?”

“Oh, it’s just a white bun. Cloud Haetae gave me one while I was patrolling the temple. They gave me another for you if you were hungry too.”

“I am not hungry right now, Y/N…”

“But food is always enjoyed best when you’re having it with others..”

“That is true, but one’s wish cannot be granted if I am eating.”

“Mystic Flour Cookie….”

She turns to you. You were giving her that look with a pout, she hated it when you did that, she never was able to resist it as the smallest smile forms on her face.

“Very well, I may make an exception for you. Pass me mine…”

You gave it to her without haste, she takes a moment to observe the white bun before having a bite. The taste was delectable on her taste buds as she turned to you, enjoying your white bun, she hums with that hint of a smile again.

The white bun was great. Having her most trusted guard eat alongside her? Even better…

———————————————————————

“Hey! Why’d you stop? Give me more!”

“O-oh! Sorry.”

Cloud Haetae Cookie relaxed once more after you resumed your head rubbing, reeling from your memory with Mystic Flour Cookie…

You just had to wait a little longer, or a while longer, or whatever it took. Just as long as you got to see Mystic Flour Cookie again…

To spend time together like you two used to do…

*SLAM!*

The sound of the temple doors slamming open and shut rapidly startled you two, causing Cloud Haetae to jump from your lap.

“Gah! What’s going on?!”

“It’s one of my guards!”

A temple guard hastily stumbled towards you, gripping her shoulder in clear pain.

“Captain, it’s the crowd outside. They’re getting more restless the more they wait for the temple doors to be opened. They’ve resorted to violent means to breach our line!”

“Those cookies…can’t they wait anymore?! You go take care of yourself, I’ll be out there shortly.”

“Yes, captain!”

The guard hurried away as Cloud Haetae Cookie grew nervous, yet frustrated too.

“This is only been getting worse the past few days, now they’re resorting to hurting others to satiate their selfishness…”

“It’s terrible, which is why I’m going out there to quell them and hopefully calm down the problem. The cocoon must be protected at all costs! Cloud Haetae Cookie, if they ever get in, do not hesitate to hide. I’d hate to see you hurt…”

“But what if things don’t get better? What if they….try to crumble you? The fires of hatred in their eyes from the last visit was already bad enough…!”

“Anything is better than Mystic Flour Cookie getting hurt under my watch!”

You marched outside with your weapons ready, Cloud Haetae Cookie’s nerves not being helped at all.

“Mystic Flour Cookie, my master, please help us…”

———————————————————————

“Y/N, you don’t need to blame yourself…”

“But I went against what I sworn to do, I attacked instead of defended…”

“That cookie’s greed had gotten the better of them, they were not of sound mind anymore…”

“I should’ve reacted better, I should’ve kept my emotions in check, please forgive me…”

“Y/N Cookie.”

The slight raise in her volume along with your name in full made you stop and stand at attention, worries at their peak.

Until Mystic Flour Cookie reached to caress your cheek.

“You did what you’ve sworn to do, protect the temple and me from any danger…”

“Even if..it’s one of the temple goers?”

“Yes. There was no other option, it was either you or them…”

Mystic Flour’s face formed a small smile.

“I am willing to look past this one offense, but you will have to make up for it~”

Now your worries were just reduced to red blush staining your face.

“T-Thank you, Mystic Flour Cookie. I won’t hold back from any threat, without having to harm others!”

“Mm. Come here, it’s okay…”

She brings you into a hug, something that shocks you for a moment, as you slowly reciprocate. Your emotions bubble as your grip subconsciously gets tighter around her.

“Thank you….”

———————————————————————

“GET BACK!”

The situation escalated beyond what you had imagined. They broke past your defensive line and had breached the temple doors, yet you still had weapon ready.

Your fellow guards laid defeated before you, only you remained….

The crowd of angry cookies were less than willing to settle down…

“Where is she?! Is she out of that cocoon yet?!”

“Why can’t she help us?! My house is close to collapse!”

“My garden isn’t going to make it at this rate!”

“I want my wish granted, it’s been too long!”

“Treasure! I heard there was treasure she’s hiding from us too!”

You grew more furious at the crowd with that accusation now spreading around, but you remained steadfast.

“There are no treasures! She isn’t keeping anything from you! Please, not now! Not when she’s on the last step to being the Leavened One!”

The crowd couldn’t care, eyes full of malice and anger as they approached with their own weapons.

“So much for a great hero! She needs one cookie to protect her!”

“Now we KNOW you’re holding out on us with treasure!”

“Hand us the treasure!”

A cookie with a bow shoots and it strikes your leg, making you yell out in pain as you kneel, strawberry jam oozed out.

Cloud Haetae Cookie, hiding under the stairs, gasped in horror at the sight.

You didn’t falter, you simply stood your ground!

“If you think I’ll let you reach Mystic Flour Cookie while I’m still breathing, THINK AGAIN!”

You deflected and blocked as much of their attacks as you could, keeping them at bay…

But you could only do so for so long, for every slip up, they landed cuts and shots all over your body.

A slash to your knee, an arrow to your shoulder, a stab to your stomach…

You never once raised your weapon to hurt them…

“*sniffle*….Y/N Cookie….*sob*….”

Cloud Haetae tried to hold back their tears as they’re forced to watch you slowly whittle away from fatigue and the crowd’s attacks…

Someone else was watching….within the cocoon…

She begged them to stop internally….

You fall to your knees…

Stop this…!

You looked up at the cookie behind you, nothing but hatred in their eyes….yet you showed no fear, only defiance with a scowl…

Please stop this!

You see the cookie’s blade rising up….

You refused to show fear…

PLEASE STOOOOOP!

The blade comes down….

“I love you, Mystic Flour Cookie….”

———————————————————————

You and Mystic Flour Cookie sit at one of the highest points in the temple, watching the sunset.

“It’s nice up here, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it’s a pleasant view…”

“It makes you forget about all your troubles when you look at something like this…”

“Do you have troubles in your life, Y/N?”

“Yes, but I knew what I was getting into when I joined. It would’ve been all worth it if it meant I get to see you everyday.”

Mystic Flour Cookie giggles a little, a smile on her face.

“Then, we should do this more often…”

“I’d be more than happy to…”

“As do I….”

You two continued to watch the sunset, leaning against each other, hands clutched together….

———————————————————————

“Stop, I don’t think they’ll be getting up anytime soon…”

The group moved on from the now battered remains of..what used to be Y/N Cookie…the group talked amongst themselves.

“Now, for what we came here for, the treasure that she’s keeping from us in that cocoon…”

“Needed a cookie to protect her, I thought she was supposed to be a savior to us…”

“Maybe…she wasn’t as godlike as we thought…”

“She tricked us. And now she’s hiding away in that cocoon of hers! Fake! FAKE IMMORTAL!”

With one slash of a sword, the cocoon was cut open, where Mystic Flour Cookie was situated before them, unmoving and with a shadow over her eyes…

“You! We’ve waited long enough for you to come out of there! Where are the treasures you’re hiding!”

“Or at least you’ll be able to grant our wishes now!”

“I’ve got so much to ask for, where do I start?”

“Me first!”

“Back off!”

“I wish for the power to be a great spellcaster!”

Without saying a word, Mystic Flour Cookie waved her hand and the cookie who asked felt a surge within their body!

“Woah! This is….huh?”

Before the cookie knew it, their head had poofed into flour along with the rest of their body, the rest of the group gasped in horror as they too started turning pale…the atmosphere suddenly shifted to pure red…

“What’s happening to us!?”

“I don’t feel so good…”

“It’s her! She’s did this to us!”

“HELP ME!”

The cookies that tried to draw their weapons suddenly saw that their arms and hands had stopped working as they fell apart and dispersed to flour, causing more chaos to ensure as they screamed in horror.

Some tried to run to the temple doors in a panic, a few making there only to see that the temple doors were closed and locked as they struggled to open them, fading to nothing before they could realize that their efforts would be useless…

Some tried to beg and plead for their lives, swearing that they’ll never do this again….

For the first time ever since the cocoon was cut , Mystic Flour Cookie vocalized…

Not to speak…

But to laugh….

“Hehe….”

“Hehehehehe….”

“AHAHAHAHAHA!”

When it was all over, there’d be no one left remaining with the exception of Mystic Flour Cookie, Cloud Haetae Cookie, and Y/N Cookie….

Mystic Flour Cookie stopped laughing…as she gazed down to the body of her now ruined lover….

She gently picked them up in their arms as she retreated into her cocoon, Cloud Haetae crawling out of the stairs as she gazed up at their master.

“Master…I’m sorry, they…”

“No, I should’ve seen how futile it was to try and ignore the growing greed that can instill into cookies. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t…their fault.”

Cloud Haetae couldn’t stand to see the crumbled apart body of the captain and friend..

“I will return to the cocoon, they will be joining me. This world…is too cruel for them to be in…”

“Yes, master….”

The cocoon closed up, with Mystic Flour Cookie clutching Y/N Cookie close….

Just them and her…

And when the cocoon opens up once more…

She’ll make the cookies see…

She’ll make the world see how much pain and anguish can be let go by returning to nothing….

“I love you too, Y/N Cookie….”

I locked in so hard, lol

[cno-inbminor]

praestigia

NOTE: this is the completed version of the fic, including part 1. some minor edits have been made to part 1, but that's about it. once again, thanks sylus for being my first lads fic! as always, much love to spence for bullying me into finishing this

plot: formally speaking, sylus is a...sponsor. more colloquially, he's your sugar daddy -- and you're starting to wonder if he might actually want more. (wc: ~13.1k)

cw: this is all AU and does not include, like, any game lore (aside from that it's happening in linkon city). afab!reader, also a phd student, toxic behavior [miscommunication], explicit smut [dom/sub dynamics, slight bondage, underwear as a gag, size kink if you squint, fingering, some degradation, possessiveness, squirting, overstimulation, some choking, no protection aside from implied birth control], angst, some fluff, open ending. mdni!

[ao3]

-

The skyline of Linkon City never fails to captivate you, blinking lights of tall, corporate buildings, the specks of light dotted across the sky, the blur of beams weaving through the roads – no matter which angle you look at it from, the view will inevitably take reign over your focus. So much so, that you do not notice the imposing figure approaching you from behind. He can only draw your attention by placing both hands on your shoulders, jumping slightly as you blink and remember where you are. A wave of flashbacks crashes through your mind as you are gently turned towards him, your back facing the window now.

“Perhaps I should find it somewhat offensive that the view never fails to take your attention away,” Sylus remarks, his tone unmasked in his teasing and playfulness. His scarlet eyes peer past your shoulder to see if there was anything interesting or out of the ordinary. “Do I need to start booking rooms without windows?”

“Don’t be silly,” you gently admonish, moving past him to grab a drink of water. His eyes burn the skin on your back, though you are familiar with this gaze. “Thank you for letting me rest here.”

“Do you really think that after all this time, I would leave you to pay for a hotel room yourself? Or to find your own transportation home?”

“It’d be understandable. I can see where you would be coming from if you made those requests.”

“I must say, I am a little wounded, kitten,” he drawls in mock pain. Instead of waiting for you to return and remain close to him, he situates himself on the bed first and leaves ample room for you to lay next to him.

The gesture invokes warmth, exudes comfort, and stands familiar as you climb onto the mattress with ease and memory. Sylus stretches out his arm next to you, and his pose quietly begs for you to cuddle into him.

And so you do. Sylus’s stature and frame, of course, never fails to envelop you during these moments of tranquility. Your chest pressed against his side, a leg crossed over his, your nails drawing patterns over his bathrobe and exposed abdomen – security, strength, and affection, once again, never fails to help you relax.

Because this is what happens after every gala, every fundraiser, every grand opening, every social event that you accompany Sylus to. This routine of being in hotel rooms so high above ground with breathtaking views, burrowing into him, oftentimes burying himself inside you, and separating the next morning with an implicit understanding of exactly where you stand, is what you two had agreed upon all those months ago. And in return, your financial stress disappears into thin air, leaving you to study and engage in hobbies without such a heavy burden on your shoulders.

Despite his constant reassurances that he can clean up whatever mess you may end up making, they do not negate just how tiring and draining these events end up being. Constantly putting on airs, overexposing your practiced smiles, making sure that there is not a single hair out of place, switching to what you like to call “fancy people table etiquette” – Sylus sponsored and, in a way, hired you to be as close to perfect as possible, and so, you must do as such to uphold your end of this business relation. Tonight has been a little more taxing than usual, as somewhere along the way, he felt the need to buy you anything that captured your attention for more than a few seconds. He would bid a ridiculous price that would dissuade any other potential customers, their expressions of defeat when they pass by causing him to secretly gloat that everyone has learned at least one thing about him: he will get what he wants.

You had caught onto this shenanigan after the third item, and you made sure to school your gaze away from the auctioned items. But because he always seems to know what plays in your mind, he complains, “You never let or ask me to buy you things anymore.”

Your eyes had closed shut during your time of reflecting on tonight’s events, and they continue to remain as such. “I have very little closet space. At this point, I think I’ve probably swapped out 90% of my wardrobe because of you. People are starting to get suspicious.”

“Then why not move out and find a bigger apartment? You know I can afford it.”

“Sylus–”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. If he were anyone else, you would have scowled at him. “It would be too far from campus, become inconvenient, and you feel it is too much to ask for.”

As the conversation suggests, this is not the first time Sylus has brought up this proposition. What remains unsaid is how you would be closer to his residence if you were to move to one of the many apartments he had in mind, all of which would reduce your commute to his place down to walking a block or two; not a twenty-minute drive.

“Just say the word, and it will be done,” Sylus murmurs into your hair. When he realizes he has received no response, your soft snoring greets him before he can inquire any further. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out and switches the nightstand light off, leaving the darkness to swallow you both. His eyes fall shut in tired ease, but his grip around your shoulders remains firm.

-

It comes to no one’s surprise that you feel less than well-rested when your alarm starts blaring at 5:45AM. You had an early class today, so you had to give yourself ample time to make it home, change, wipe away any lingering smudges of last night’s makeup, and try to appear as…casual as possible. Not wanting to wake him up so much that he cannot fall back asleep, you reach out for your phone and click one of the volume buttons, rendering it silent. Sometime in the night, your position had changed to Sylus spooning you. His limb slung over your waist is heavy, making it all that more difficult to leave – not just physically, but mentally as well.

Like ripping a bandaid off, you have every intention to quickly remove yourself from his embrace. But Sylus, being the infuriatingly light sleeper that he is, immediately tightens his hold around you as soon as you attempt your escape.

“Sylus, I need to go,” you whisper.

He presses you impossibly closer to him. “I will drive you to your apartment. Sleep.”

“No, I’m taking the subway.”

“Why take the subway when you have me?”

“If anyone needs rest, it’s you,” you say pointedly, because it’s true. Being the CEO of a business that may or may not be totally legal (you never ask because honestly, the less you know, the better) is not exactly a 9AM-5PM job. There have been more times than you can count when he would be pounding into you and forced to take a phone call. Granted, that doesn’t stop him from grinding into you and grinning devilishly when you bury your face into the nearest pillow to muffle your moans and whines.

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbles into your hair. “You haven’t gotten more than six hours of sleep every night for the last week.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” As soon as you ask, you already know the answer.

The app for– “Your smartwatch.”

“One of these days, I will disconnect my account from that app.”

“I would like to see you try.”

And you will. Just, when you’re not trapped in his arms.

“I’m still taking the subway,” you backtrack, though your voice is quieter than before. A tiny sense of relief fills you when his embrace loosens, and you can finally crawl out of bed. It’s harder than it seems to squash the distressed voice in your head complaining about how easy it was for him to let you go. As you pick up all your clothes and make your way towards the bathroom, you notice his phone sitting innocently by the room’s coffee machine. After looking over your shoulder, you swipe it off the counter and bring it with you.

Guessing his passcode is harder than you thought – the man has an ego the size of the entire universe, so you figure it would be something personal: his inaugural date as CEO, his birth year, his birthday, or others. On your last, desperate attempt, you type in four digits and find yourself absolutely floored at the view of his, now, unlocked phone.

Your birthday.

There is no time to dwell on the implications of it all, and you chalk it up to the fact that no one really knows you outside of being his typical date or escort. Therefore, the passcode would be that much harder to guess than the route that you had originally gone for. Yes, that’s all it was: an extra layer of security.

Sylus’s phone is surprisingly unorganized, random apps thrown into folders that they do not belong in, leaving you to search for the fitness app that your watch is not only connected to on your own phone, but somehow also on his. You press the buttons necessary to delete your watch data from his end. When you are ready to close the app, you cannot help but notice the preview of his messages app and the texts within. Your thumb swipes away the fitness app and shakily taps the messages window that stares hauntingly at you. It had been left open on a conversation with another woman, if you had to guess based on the name sitting at the top.

My parents are getting antsy, and so is your grandfather.

That is none of my concern.

Unfortunately, it is. They’re not exactly happy about the woman you keep bringing as a partner.

Our arranged marriage is not a publicly known detail.

And I’d like to keep it that way. But Sylus…

What?

We can’t delay this much longer. You’re running out of time.

The exchange tells you enough, just enough for you to realize the situation you find yourself in. You suddenly recall an incident in the beginning of this relationship with Sylus when he described this arrangement, him as your sugar daddy, as a means to an end, preferably the end of something that he clearly did not want out of desire for his own freedom. There was not enough detail for you to give it much thought after that night of discussion and negotiation, but now, it all makes sense.

Your thumb takes it back to his home screen and presses the lock button. In a haze, you get ready and dressed before exiting the bathroom, completely unaware if you even have your clothes on right or your hair somewhat kempt. As quietly as possible, you place his phone back where you had found it. Though common practice at this point, it now feels far too intimate to plant a featherlight kiss on his cheek. It causes him to stir, but you’re halfway out the door before he can fully register your departure.

Whoever passes by, whatever zooms past, however something tries to gain your attention, you have no recognition of your surroundings. A thick layer of tension settles itself into your brain, allowing you to think of nothing but the fact that this entire time, Sylus has been in an arranged marriage that you, apparently, were supposed to be instrumental in destroying. To find yourself back in your apartment maybe forty minutes later is a miracle in and of itself. You return to the plane of reality when you open your closet doors to toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and are greeted by the many items bought with his money.

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy does not make itself known in your system. You’re not exuding shades of green or red like an angry Christmas tree. If anything, you come to a quiet acceptance that this…partnership with Sylus will come to an end, and soon. It would do no good for him to keep seeing or supporting you while formally married, which means you have to get your life in order. Sylus has given you more than enough money to put you through your last two years of your postgraduate career and maybe a year into your postdoc, but you should still remain frugal. If you’re lucky enough, the money you earn during postdoc would be enough to live relatively comfortably on.

Alone. Without him.

It’s fine, you think to yourself as you turn on the shower. It’s totally and completely fine.

-

A couple hours later in class, your phone vibrates with a message that reads, “You actually managed to disconnect your watch from my phone.”

The slight smirk tugging at your lips is inevitable as you type out a response: You told me to try, so I did.

“I will be changing my passcode.”

If you want. There’s nothing else on there that I need to delete, right?

“Oh sweetie, wouldn’t you like to know?”

The subtle, possessive curl of his message coils around you tenderly, making you temporarily forget that you are in class and should be exhibiting a poker face. But you still shift in your seat, a warm pool of heat forming in your core as you imagine his expression and his voice reading the message out loud. Forever a tease and a flirt, Sylus knows exactly what he is doing by sending you that message.

Your best revenge in the moment is to leave him on read, on the edge of his metaphorical seat. It takes too much effort to bring your conscience back to your current lecture and actually take some notes. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it – and in hindsight, you’re glad you did. Sylus, in all his infinite wisdom and glory, took it upon himself to send you a picture of himself after a shower – the skin of his chest glistening under the fluorescent lights, grey towel hung low on his waist and barely holding on, veins on his arms frustratingly visible because he knows what they do to you, his biceps flexed just enough that you want to take a bite at them. The fucker full well knew you were in class and, you know, in relatively close proximity to other people who would have, no doubt, gotten an eyeful.

As you walk towards the subway station to go back to your apartment, head down and focused on typing out a message, a giddy smile can’t help but break out across your face. Your thumbs tap, “Should you really be sending photos like this to someone who, in the public’s eye, is just a friendly escort?”

After not even thirty seconds, your phone buzzes, the notification of his call sliding in from the top of your screen. You almost roll your eyes as you bring the device to your ear. “You have five minutes before I lose signal underground,” you warn, your tone still playful nevertheless.

“‘A friendly escort’, you say? I suppose that’s what the young ones are calling intimacy these days.”

“You knew I was in class. And stop it, I know you have some stupid smug look on your face right now,” you chastise.

“You know me so well.”

“Actually, speaking of,” you say as your eyes flit down to your watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”

“I stepped out.”

Your heart and feet skip a beat, almost causing you to fall flat on your face and absolutely eat shit in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s hard not to let your mind race at all the implications, that this tirelessly busy man decided in a heartbeat that he would step out with a desire to call you over something so minor; to do no more than simply tease you. In the grand scheme of his life, you have very little significance – your temporary companionship where you may see him four or five times a month, sometimes with weeks in between and other times mere days. Text messages were never a guaranteed daily activity, though as of recent, he has been texting you more often. But amidst his employees, his connections, his partnerships, his family, you’re just…you.

You didn’t realize you had been stunned into silence long enough for him to ask, “Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry,” you apologize, scrambling to think of an excuse. “Uhh, an email came in and I was reading it. Didn’t hear you.”

“I’ll get you some wireless earbuds.”

“Please don’t.” Your rejection is immediate, firm. The lack of room left for argument stands apparent. “That’s not necessary.”

“And what’s stopping me from just ordering you a pair regardless?”

“Me.”

Sylus responds with a contemplative pause, which is...unusual. He has always been so quick to reply with wit and banter, but there is a chance that maybe something distracted him, like what you had said as a poor attempt at a viable excuse.

“I suppose the kitten is starting to make use of her claws now.” His voice rings softer, quieter, almost as if disheartened by his own statement. “First you disconnect your watch, and now you won’t even let me buy you earbuds.”

“I just don’t want you to buy anything that’s not necessary. Covering my tuition and all the dresses is one thing, but wireless earbuds, I can do without. My wired ones work just fine.”

Your eyes catch the sign for the stairs leading down to the subway up ahead. “I’m about to go under and lose signal. Was there anything else?”

“Come over tonight.”

Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I can’t,” you lie, a pang of guilt creeping into your heart. “There’s a study group tonight for an exam.” Not a lie. “Besides, we just saw each other yesterday.”

“Has that ever stopped us before?”

“W-well, no,” you splutter because it’s true. There have been a handful of times when you spent two, sometimes three consecutive nights in the past – but things were more hot-and-heavy then, a time when you couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. “I’m just saying.”

“Then come after the study group.”

“It’s gonna run pretty late because we have an exam in a few days.” Again, not a lie. “Who knows if the subways would still be running by then?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“But you might be asleep.”

“Highly unlikely, little one.”

Quickly looking around you, you quietly hiss, “Sylus, you should be asleep by the time the subways stop running. Why would you still be up at 2AM?”

“In case I have to refresh your memory, you do remember that I am the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in Linkon, right? The work never ends.”

“You need time for sleep, you know, like everyone else??”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Your eyes close in frustration as you groan. Your feet have reached the top of the stairs, and you couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Okay, I’m at the station so I’m gonna hang up. I’ll come over another time, alright? Talk to you later.”

“Sweetie–”

Moving forward to race down the stairs and smashing the hang up button is your way of desperately trying to not lose resolve. Any longer, you would have given in and rolled yourself straight back to square one with nothing but dread. You have never been more relieved to see the little “No Signal” sitting in the top left corner while you swipe through a gate and manage to get down another flight of stairs without tripping over your feet.

Wired earbuds in, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie, letting the wind tunnel threaten you to topple over, you do everything in your ability to not think about him – to not think about the messages that may flood your phone once you get signal, to not think about the pushback you may receive because Sylus is someone who figures out to, somehow, always get his way, and to not think about the weight of his earlier words: “I stepped out.” You pretend that you know nothing about this arranged marriage, the curiosity having caused your thumbs to twitch in anticipation at maybe looking up who this woman is. You ignore the now glaringly close deadline that will terminate your relationship with Sylus forever, and most of all, you ignore any semblance of pain that knowledge makes you feel.

Cup half-empty, spoons tossed the window, the subway window across from you is greeted with a blank stare. In a rare moment of mindfulness (or is it dissociation?), you think of nothing until you find yourself standing by the foot of your bed and ready to face plant into the middle of the duvet. With your last shred of working consciousness, you set an alarm for thirty minutes before the start of the study group and promptly fall asleep.

-

As you predicted, the study group runs late into the night. Despite the several digressions into conversations that were very much not academics-related, all of you feel relatively good about the subject matter for the exam on Friday. Everyone comes to a unanimous decision to reconvene in a couple of days. Given that it was Monday, one more study session Wednesday and some independent review Thursday night would be beneficial.

For your own sanity, you had left your phone, stashed in the recesses of your backpack, tossed into the corner of the study room, on do-not-disturb for the entirety of the night. You had it programmed to still chime and alert you if family contacted you, mainly because it doesn’t happen often, and if it does, that means something big happened. The device remained silent for the whole time, and part of you wants to avoid confronting what your notification screen might look like. But before you can muster up the courage to do so, one of your friends speaks up.

“Hey, you took the subway here, right? I can drive you home,” Jiho, a doctoral student in the same year as you but doing research under a different professor, offers. A part of you is beyond relieved at the perfect example of an excuse to not check your phone because it would be so incredibly rude (not really) in a social context.

“You wouldn’t mind? If you have somewhere to be, I can just walk.”

Jiho rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

He drops you off in front of your apartment complex about ten minutes later, and he shoos away your offer to buy him coffee as a token of gratitude. You wave goodbye as his car pulls out of a guest parking spot, and only then do you notice the conspicuously sleek, grey sports car sitting a few meters away. Your heart pounds, and your palms begin to sweat as you get closer and closer to your unit, afraid of who you might find once you get inside. You spot the fluorescent glow from underneath peering out from underneath your door, and it takes everything in you to not drop your keys as you unlock the deadbolt.

“So the kitten has finally decided to come home.”

“How–”

Sylus, looking severely out of place in your humble abode, sets down the stack of papers in his hand on your coffee table. With his other hand, he points to the fixture on your wall by the door where your keys typically hang. His own set now occupies one of the hooks, and you spot the spare key you had given him a few months ago. To your knowledge, he has never used it before, and you can count the number of times he has stepped into this apartment on one hand.

You quietly shut the door behind you, locking both deadbolts in place before setting your backpack down. “It’s so late,” and even you wince at the shakiness in your voice. “You should be asleep. At home.”

“Perhaps I would be if someone had just checked their phone once in the last fifteen hours.”

Well, you don’t have much of an excuse for that.

Sylus sits on one end of your couch in loungewear, though somehow, he still makes it seem like he’s in something formal enough for business casual. You cautiously sit on the other end away from him.

“I passed out as soon as I got home, and then I was running late for the study group, so I just left my phone on do-not-disturb.”

His silence speaks volumes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

But maybe you did.

Maybe, subconsciously, you did. Maybe you wanted to test the limits of his affection. Maybe you wanted to see just how far he would go to make sure you were okay.

Maybe you simply wanted to get a taste of when you least expect radio silence, an appetizer for how things may turn out when Sylus calls for the end of your arrangement.

“Look at me.”

Tension weighs you down as you slowly turn your body towards him, but you avoid his gaze and aim to study the logo on his shirt instead.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

The command snaps you into compliance, his tone firm and undeniable. You expect to see anger, frustration, disappointment. After all, it would make sense, for there is a set of expectations and rules put into place to ensure trust between both parties. Transactional, contractual, institutional obligations and conditions set by both the company matchmaker and individuals are put in place to conveniently manifest and quickly disintegrate these business relations, to avoid messes.

But you realize all too quickly that the mess will be inevitable, in your case, because instead of tinges of red fury in his eyes, you find concern, worry, and confusion. Dread sinks into your stomach like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, dropping further and further into the dark unknown.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately counter. Good job, you just made it more obvious.

Sylus pins you down with a look that means nothing other than “you know better”, and your heart threatens to burst from your chest out of sheer anxiety.

“Since you refuse to tell me otherwise, tell me how you got home,” he says, and though he may seem cool and nonchalant in the way he rests an arm against the back of the couch, you can see the irritation pulsing through the veins on his forearms.

“A friend from the study group drove me home.”

“And you were simply too busy to look at your phone during the drive?”

“I had to give him directions.”

Sylus cocks an eyebrow at the mention of this friend’s gender. “Him?”

“Jiho, sweet guy. Does research with another professor.”

“I suppose I have him to thank for bringing you home safely. Regardless, you should have called me to pick you up.”

You have one last card to play. “That’s not in the contract.”

His eyes harden and narrow the slightest bit, the curve of his jaw growing tense in building irritation. “How so?”

“There’s a line somewhere in there about making sure I would not contact you for personal favors that are outside the scope of our,” you hesitate to find the right words, “relationship.”  You can’t remember the last time your palms sweat so much.

“I offered.”

“And I am not obligated to take the offer. While kind, I did not see the need to bother you.”

“I clearly remember stating that it wouldn’t be an issue, especially considering I asked you to stay with me for the night.”

“But I told you I couldn’t,” you retort.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

The bitter note in his voice on his last word matches his steely gaze that is undoubtedly determined to pick you apart, to peel off each layer of whatever walls you may have put up. He’s not ignorant or oblivious by any means – something is going on, and you’re not telling him. You answer him with deafening silence, blaming your late-night fatigue for it.

Responding directly to his question would only make this worse, as you cannot see yourself getting out of the ensuing conversation unscathed and alive. Instead, the couch dips as you cross the distance between you two, hesitantly straddling his hips in case he doesn’t want you to. But he allows your move, his hands almost instinctively resting on your thighs as you settle yourself into his hold. His skin feels glassy smooth beneath your fingers as you caress his cheek, studying every detail of his face and avoiding his eyes.

Perhaps there is a part of you that is trying to commit the minutiae to memory in preparation for the days when you will no longer see him so intimately. You should have never let yourself get so attached, no matter how much tenderness and adoration Sylus has been lavishing you with. The realization hits you in a bittersweet manner, and the featherlight kiss you place on his lips only makes it hurt more.

Yet you move past the pain to accept the fall, the descent into oblivion as you feel Sylus respond to your kiss, deepening and increasing in fervor. The heat in your core is more than just lust as it sinks deeper and deeper into you, a testament to the depth of your affections. Somehow, his touch as his hands roam your figure burns hotter. It almost makes you want to shy away from his grasp, but part of you welcomes the trails of fire as your punishment for deceiving him.

You gasp out his name as his lips leave your neck scorching, each nip of his teeth and lave of his tongue adding to the haze slowly overtaking your rationale. But beneath the man’s ardor, you manage to recognize his irritation and annoyance – the way his fingers grip your waist, his nails digging into your back – about how this whole night has progressed.

Apologize, his eyes seem to scream. Seek forgiveness as I seek vengeance, his hands draw on your skin.

Beg for me.

“You test my patience in a way that others have never done before,” he says in a dangerous tone as you gasp at the chords of delicious pain running down your back.

“I’m– ah – sorry,” you gasp as his arousal grinds purposefully against yours.

The answering swat against your ass stings, and you attempt to ignore the rush of slick dampening your panties even further –  a reaction that Sylus does not fail to miss. Instinct calls and beckons when your eyes slip shut the moment a hand rakes up to get a firm grip of your hair, pulled towards him so he can kiss you fervently again.

So lost in a hazy reverie, you barely register when he lifts you by your thighs and makes his way to your bedroom. Or at least, you think he’s going there, given that he’s only been in your bedroom once before. But Sylus makes strides with the confidence of someone who has visited here countless times, and the aura he exudes both thrills and frightens you.

In mere seconds, he strips you down and regards you with an appreciative gaze. The glint and apparent desire in his eyes never fails to flatter you – to be wanted is addicting, especially when wanted by a man as powerful as Sylus. You should be alarmed by how natural it feels to be in this current state of undress and debauchery.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you obey without a second thought. “Good girl.

“As much as I cannot bother to care about disturbing your neighbors, I know you do,” he concedes, but not without balling up your panties and stuffing them past your parted lips. “All of this could have been avoided if you had just let me pick you up.”

The argumentative whine that slips off your tongue is resolutely muffled, serving no purpose except to further Sylus’s sadism. His approving smirk immediately quells your anger, and you can only watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothes at a painstakingly slow place. Normally, you are the one to grant him a show at his command, but tonight, you deserved a taste of your own medicine. Your wrists become bound by his belt as he finds his second home between your legs. Tears prick the corners of your eyes when he purposefully lets his shaft drop on your clit.

“Always so wet and ready for me, kitten,” he praises, his tone low, teasing, but appreciative.

His smirk widens as he moves to hold his cock and tap it menacingly against the puffy bundle of nerves, taking in each twitch of your body, each dampened mewl, each falling tear. With each tap, the string of slick between your cunt and his length becomes more and more prominent, spreading across his skin. “Tell me, sweetie, who this belongs to,” Sylus compels with a drawl, jutting his chin towards your carnal source of torture before meeting your eyes. He knows very well that the word you're trying to say is “you”, but he takes great pleasure in knowing that there is no way the sounds will come through the soaked cotton in your mouth. “Hmm? What was that?” The frustration of not being able to clearly convey the right answers only adds to your arousal, turning the heat in your core into molten lava. At his clarifying question, you, undoubtedly, feel a pool of precum drip from your pussy, and when you see his eyes flit down to his cock in hand, you know he's fully aware of it too. They hone in on how easily the tip slips into your beckoning entrance, attempting to entice and draw him in for both your pleasures.

You keen as Sylus slides two fingers into your entrance without warning – they’re a far cry from his cock, but thick and long in their own desirable way. The tips of his fingers easily find the spot that makes you squirm, moan, mewl, and you’d have to be blind to miss the wicked expression splitting across his face. Despite the teasing attitude from earlier, he wastes no time trying to bring you to your peak. Your muffled cries only spur him on, even more so when he’s able to fit a third finger inside you. “Maybe I should let your neighbors hear us. I imagine it would get the message across that you’re not exactly…available.”

Embarrassing, what you would give in this very moment to be nothing more than his. Your hips follow the drag of his fingers, unwilling to let yourself feel anything less than filled. But before he lets you come, he stops.

Why?

“Greedy little thing.” His tone is mocking, yet highly amused, as he removes his fingers – and as much as he would like to play with you to his heart’s content, to break you down and tear you apart, his veins thrum with impatience and apprehension. Sylus seeks to punish you in a different, more overwhelming fashion, that would require you to beg him to stop rather than to start. It takes everything in him to not force you down his entire length. Instead, he devises to lull you into a false sense of security with the way that he takes his time sliding into you, no matter how much your pretty cunt desperately tries to suck him in. Sylus is sure you would be able to see the restraint painted across his face if you didn’t have your head thrown back and back arched from being stretched open. The sight of your bare stomach and chest makes it all the much harder to reign in his desires.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His cock continues to bully its way through your pussy, slowly and languidly, until it’s fully trapped inside you. When your thighs meet his v-line and your clit brushes against his skin, you whine and buck against him for desperately needed friction. But Sylus quickly traps you and pins you down from your thighs, restricting your movements with a devilish grin. “You never answered my question,” he reminds you, a clear taunt. In the blink of an eye, he leans back to land a firm yet stinging slap on your puffy clit and revels in your muffled cry. “Who does this belong to?”

Your dry sobs only intensify as you fight to respond with a clear answer, but it’s impossible. The way you grind your hips against him, seeking any sensation that could help quench this insatiable thirst in your core, should say enough. Sure, you could simply point at him, even with your wrists tied together, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants the words of possession to roll off your tongue at times like these. And if you tried taking the cloth from your mouth…needless to say, you would be lucky to survive the night.

He chuckles when he feels the walls of your pussy tighten around his cock, a different tone that deviates from the vicious shake of your head to signal that despite your complaints, you would much rather be gagged like this. “Cum for me,” Sylus demands in a low voice. “Cum for me, cum from me just being inside you, and I will give you what you’ve been begging for this whole time.

“Even better yet, make a mess.”

The coil in your core tightens more and more and more until it suddenly snaps, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm and your throat hoarse from your silenced screams. “Good girl,” he praises when he pulls out, hungry eyes roaming every inch of you, as he rapidly swipes his fingers against your clit and relishes in his ability to make you squirt, fluids flying and landing messily in the near vicinity. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get over the high, oversensitivity from his fingers as they continue to stimulate you. Barely coming down from your climax, Sylus stuffs three fingers inside you and continues to fuck you, purposefully and forcefully rocking against your g-spot.

“Please,” you beg and cry as you twitch and flinch, trying to remove yourself from the source of this unbearable amount of pleasure. But your articulation is, once again, victim to your cotton gag, leaving you to audibly dry sob and squeal in overstimulation. The satisfaction on your sponsor’s complexion should sound the alarms in your brain, but it only thrills you to pieces as clarity fades more and more from your conscience.

In a haze, you manage to pull your belt-bound wrists forward from above your head and tap his shoulder three times. Only then does he stop in his tracks, carefully removing his fingers from your core. Sylus exhibits the same attention when he holds your chin with one hand and takes the soaked cotton of your panties out of your mouth. Before you can even take two breaths, greedily gasping for air, Sylus kisses you softly, slowly. Unable to do much with your head still in a fog, you reciprocate as much as you can – to silently thank him for his punishment, as well as his mercy. He pulls back, cueing you to open your eyes and take him in, just as he assesses you in his own way. His eyes search and roam your face and figure before meeting your gaze once more.

How endearing, you believe they seem to say. He cocks an eyebrow, his way of asking are you okay? You take a few deep breaths before nodding. But before you can try and decipher more of what he may be feeling through his eyes, he bends forward, breathing into your ear, “On your stomach.”

Large, strong hands manhandle you until your head is almost buried into the sheets, hiding your disheveled state, your hands grasping at the expensive linen, and his weight planted firmly on top of you. A pillow is stuffed beneath your abdomen before he spreads your ass, eager to study the ruin he has caused on your poor, little pussy. Sylus readjusts himself so that his dick nestles comfortably between your ass cheeks. Even in your daze, the heat of his arousal almost seems to burn your flesh, and you desperately wish it was inside you. 

A self-proclaimed mind reader, Sylus drives you to the edge, groaning quietly when your cunt attempts to lure him in when he coquettes you with the tip. Every slide, every push, every instance of friction makes you fall deeper into this pool of anguish and lechery. Before you even realize it, visceral pleas for him to fuck you are spilling from your tongue, very much so to his delight. “I know you can beg better than that,” he taunts. “And to think I had trained you so well.” His voice reeks in mock despair and disappointment.

Though you know he’s not completely serious, his words are enough to send your sin-addled brain into a state of panic – so panicked and shaken to the point that you don't even register the next words falling off your tongue. Something about the practiced but genuine phrases of separation, wanting to be used, wanting to be ruined – were you pressing back into him, hoping, praying that you could draw him into you?

In response, you soak in the hisses of expletives in your ear, the comforting, mind-numbing sensation of being filled again, and the weight of his frame atop yours. He holds himself up on his elbows, and each thrust threatens to split you in two. “Mine,” his voice slips through your conscience, hanging onto the way the sound drags out, “are you not?”

Always, you nearly answer on primal instinct when he buries himself as deep as he can inside you, his cock almost feeling like it’s in the back of your throat. The inexplicable amount of pleasure stops you from giving him what he wants, which pushes him to press himself even harder against you. “I’m beginning to lose my patience, kitten,” Sylus warns, as if he’s not the very reason for your delayed responses. His fingers sneak underneath you to grab you around the neck, forcing your head up. Your pants are greedy, desperately seeking air as his hand tightens just a bit more, the haziness in your mind thickening.

“Yours,” you gasp. “Always,” slips off your tongue before you can stop yourself.

The silence that hangs still is enough to make you question whether or not you fucked this whole thing up. Dread begins to drip into your system as his grip around your neck loosens, even more so when his hand slips away entirely and he begins sliding out of you. “Wa–”

In the blink of an eye, his hand pushes your head back into the sheets, his fingers curling around your strands at the scalp. Sylus’s cock fucks you into the mattress, his pace almost frantic, yet punishing. The realization that you’re going to be incredibly sore in the morning is an accepted assumption at this point, leaving you with little warning of your release approaching the precipice. Silenced cries, Sylus fervidly ensuring that your pussy is forever molded to the shape of his length, your sanity slipping – his impassioned murmurs of how tight you are, how easily he can pound you into oblivion, how your pussy makes it so easy for him to sink into the very depths of your core – all drive you to your peak. His last sign that you’re going to come is the dissipation of your whimpers.

Sylus wraps his hand around your neck once more, turning it so that he can capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He swallows your screams as you topple over the edge, your climax so intense that your whole body trembles for what feels like eternity in his hold. Your pussy compels him to remain buried deep inside you, and he’s more than happy to comply. But it doesn’t stop him from grinding against you, driving you into overstimulation.

“So good,” he groans against your lips in between kisses. “So fucking good, taking my cock so well, I’m gonna–”

“Y-your cum, please,” you urge. “Please give me your cum!” Your voice dissolves into sobs.

“Fuck!” Sylus spits out. The hand that was on your neck now covers your mouth as he spills inside you with a deep moan, his teeth buried into your shoulder to muffle his own voice. You relish in the sharp pain, as if he’s trying to engrave his mark into your skin, and can’t help but keen as his cum fills you up. Each pulse and twitch of his cock sends a shiver down your spine and almost tempts you into begging for more.

Catching his breath, he refuses to leave your warmth. His tongue softly licks the area where his teeth had embedded themselves into your shoulder, and follows them with reverent kisses. You remain quiet, only letting your breath hitch when Sylus slips out of you. He gently presses your back into a deeper arch so that you can present yourself to him, and he watches with apparent satisfaction as his cum leaks from your pussy. A hand on your ass, his thumb reaches over for your entrance to push and give him a better view of his undeniable claim on you.

As infuriating as he can be, you observe with bleary eyes as he leaves to grab a damp towel from your bathroom before returning and carefully wiping his cum away. After doing so, he tosses it to the floor and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you the short distance to your bathroom. He starts the shower and hums some nonsensical tune with a faint voice as you wait for the water to warm up. When he deems it hot enough, Sylus offers you a hand and helps you into the shower. Compared to his apartment, your shower stall is barely enough to fit the both of you. But he makes it work, taking the utmost care in cleaning you up, his touch so cautious yet heavy with care.

You barely remember making it out of the shower, much less when he dries you off and brings you to bed. There’s a faint memory of his warmth wrapping around your frame when you awaken later that morning, a delicious ache stretched through your muscles. Yet the side where he laid is cold.

It, along with the unread text from your bank notifying you of a, no doubt, sizeable deposit, is to be expected, you remind yourself. The sticky note by your phone that reads, “Early meeting, sweetie. -S” is the only truly physical (and unexpected) sign that he had been here in the first place. He never owes you an explanation, and you never expect to get one.

Just another day, another transaction.

-

Friday rolls around, and when the sun has set beneath the horizon, you find yourself perched in Sylus’s home on the kitchen island, a speckless slab of black quartz that you just know you’re leaving fingerprints on, as he throws together a salad. Something is in the air fryer, and he has a bottle of sparkling cider waiting to be opened. Sylus had stopped you with a look of “don’t you dare” when you tried helping out with something – anything – so the only thing you could do was sit and try to look pretty.

“Pick a salad dressing,” he commands when you grow silent. You eye the three jars that have been placed in front of you.

“I’m fine with any of them.”

“Not an answer.”

“I’m serious though!”

“Pick one.”

You groan as you look at the jars and point at the middle one. “Happy now?” you ask passive aggressively, sending him an exasperated glare.

Sylus, swift and silent, swoops in and steals a kiss from an unexpected you. Saying nothing, he pours some out into the salad bowl and mixes it all together with adept flicks of his wrist – no utensils needed. With a pair of tongs, he drops some greens onto your plate before taking the rest and tending to whatever is cooking in the oven.

It’s not the first time you’ve been here, and it’s not the first time he’s cooked for you. But it is the first time since accepting that you may feel something more than obligation and friendly affection for this man. This whole experience feels wildly domestic, as if you belonged…here.

On this counter.

Accepting impromptu kisses.

Waiting on food cooked by him.

Knowing you’re staying over for the night.

As if you were meant to be a part of his life.

The thought terrifies you, without a doubt, but you like it. Settling down with Sylus, forever attached at his hip at events, is a dangerous fantasy.

Lost in your thoughts, the what if?s, the possibilities, your daydream breaks when he pulls the curtain closed in front of the balcony door, completely blocking a wonderful (and surely, very expensive) view of Linkon. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you had been looking past the windowpane when frolicking around in your imagination, and you’re reminded of the night before you disconnected your smart watch from his phone. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You feel the heat rushing into your cheeks, knowing they would be warm to the touch. Turning away from the now-concealed nighttime skyline, you direct your attention to the fridge meters away from you. “Just thinking about my test.”

“It’s too late now, if you realize you got something wrong. We’re here to celebrate it being over.”

“I know.” You sigh. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. I was getting a little tired of eating out.”

“I was as well. Too many business lunches and dinners the last couple of weeks.”

“How did those go?” you ask just to keep the conversation going.

“They went fine,” Sylus says without any further detail. “Come, let’s eat.” Before you can come down from the counter yourself, he already has an arm wound around your waist and is semi-carrying you to the dinner table. The distance between the table and the kitchen was maybe fifteen steps at best, closer to seven given Sylus’s long strides. It would’ve been a short walk regardless, and you’re flustered with the unexpected royal treatment.

Unceremoniously (but still carefully), he sits you down into a chair and pushes it in before going to his seat. Sylus places himself next to you at this round, mahogany table that seems a little too big for a man who lives alone. Largely used for serving several different dishes, it just looks a little out of place compared to the rest of his penthouse, all sleek and sharp. But you’ve learned to stop questioning things you’re curious about when it comes to his personal life, because clearly, he’s not very open to sharing those details.

Dinner isn’t anything special, as Sylus lets you prattle on about your research and other office gossip. He never divulges any of the gossip in his own workplace, but you understand it’s for confidentiality reasons. And he may just not care that much. At this point, Sylus knows a little too much about you while you know very little about him outside of his preferences and inclinations for food, media, and general daily habits.

Understanding the reality of that stun locks you for a few seconds – the duality of the word intimacy, the realization that you don’t even know Sylus’s favorite color. You could guess, sure, but you don’t definitively know. Why is it that you know the exact amount of shaved truffle on his pasta at that fancy restaurant by the river, but not his birthday? How do you explain your ability to pick up on details of his facial expressions at events and banquets, therefore knowing when to intervene so he can get a break from these people, but not the makeup of his family?

“You’ve been staring off into space quite a bit lately,” Sylus muses, ripping you away from the beginnings of your mental breakdown.

“Sorry, I just thought of something about my exam again.”

“What a terrible host I’ve been then, to allow your mind to wander so often. How can I keep your focus on me?”

You hum, looking around his apartment and then at the table. “Let me wash the dishes.”

“I own a dishwasher for a reason.”

“Please? It’s the least I could do since you made dinner – which was wonderful, by the way. You ever consider becoming a chef?” you ask with a slight chuckle, taking the opportunity to grab his dishware and utensils and carry them to the sink. Stainless steel shines brightly at you, whether from a recent deep clean or lack of usage, as you start to run the tap for warm water.

Large, familiar hands find their home on your waist, the heat burning through your sweater. They pull you against his frame, and you allow yourself to lean back a little bit as you start scrubbing the porcelain. Arms wind around your middle and hold you tight, his senses becoming muddled as he loses himself in your scent and touch. He gently paints the column of your neck with soft, faint kisses – so soft that if you hadn’t been so tuned into him, you would’ve missed them.

“You’re taking too long,” Sylus murmurs against your skin.

“What, never had to wait a tiny bit for a treat you want?” you tease, and chuckle when his teeth bite into your shoulder.

“Brat.”

“I’m almost done, I promise.” 

It’s so hard to not like–

Your brain freezes – but somehow still commands you to scrub the plate in your hand. Moving on pure muscle memory now, you have maybe five seconds to figure out your own thought process.

This is a contract, you remind yourself. This is a mutual relationship to satisfy both parties’ needs without getting personal feelings involved. Sylus made that very clear in the beginning. But the less logical part of your conscience creeps in like a phantom on your shoulder. So how does that explain Sylus’s actions recently? How does that explain this very moment of what would appear to anyone as a sweet, pure, domestic interaction?

He’s just comfortable, you rationalize.

Why does he insist on you staying the night?

Because that’s what this contract entails.

Why does he keep asking you to move closer?

It’d be more of a problem if he was asking me to move in with him.

Would it be though?

Of course??

You sure about that?

This is NOT the time for--!

A small pinch on your waist brings you back to reality, your synapses firing on overdrive to try to get you back to a functional level. You cannot hold back your “ow!”, which seems to be just enough of a reaction to satisfy this man.

“What was that for?!”

“Something is clearly on your mind,” he says in a low tone, the tone that indicates he’s starting to become agitated.

“No there’s not,” you retort and fail to hide the sheepishness in your own voice.

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me to accept that. What are you not telling me?”

“It’s–,” you pause, scrambling for words. “--trivial, at best.”

Sylus’s arm extends in front of you to forcibly remove the plate from one hand and the sponge from the other. You relent to reduce the risk of breaking anything, but somehow, it’s still not enough. He grabs a tea towel hanging on the oven door behind him, spins you around so that your back is now digging into the edge of the sink, and proceeds to furiously dry your hands. You can’t help but wince when he tries to rub off some dried soap residue, but there is no time to dwell on it.

Not when Sylus slings the towel on to his shoulder and bends at the waist to meet your eyes. Not when he cages you between his arms as his hands bear his weight on either side of you. Not when he pins you with an expectant glare, demanding your full honesty.

“It’s really nothing.” Your tone is firmer now, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Is it something personal?”

“...yes.”

“Does it have anything to do with your family?”

“No.”

“Is it something that I’m able to fix?

Technically, yes. But you’re not stupid.

“No.” Your voice softens, lowering to a murmur at best.

“Tsk,” Sylus clicks his tongue. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you have a large enough influence to make you think that you can fix anything you want.”

“Precisely,” he responds pointedly and, perhaps, a little too proudly. “So tell me. Tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll have it resolved within 48 hours.”

You didn’t realize that you had stopped looking him in the eye. And when you do, your breath hitches. So determined, so resolute.

And yet, so heartbreaking.

You can’t help but let your fingers ghost over his cheek, tracing the edge of his jawline. He stands firm even when you step forward and press a light kiss against his cheek. As if on instinct, he turns and immediately parts his lips to slide against yours, but you pull back before he has the chance to deepen it, and with it, your affection.

“You have enough to worry about as it is,” you murmur. “I’m fine, really.”

Sylus’s eyes turn disapproving, doubtful. But he knows when to back off when needed.

“Don’t forget that I can help you, should you need it,” he gently reminds you. “Do you understand?”

“I do, don’t worry.”

He sighs. “Very well then. Now come, we’re here to celebrate the end of your exam, after all.”

You take his outstretched hand, but you fail to leave behind your troubled heart.

-

Two nights later, at four in the morning, you stare blankly at your phone screen.

[Are you sure you want to request to terminate this contract?]

The only contact you've had with Sylus the last two days is sporadic texts about little things, like how your day was going or if you'd heard about the results of your exam yet. You do your best in suppressing the quiet loneliness that pushes your heart to your throat and a dagger into your stomach, the undeniable sensation of realizing that you miss Sylus.

Missing him as if he were your actual partner and not just one for show with dollar signs behind the scenes.

Worrying enough to wonder if he's getting enough sleep and eating enough food outside of whatever work dinners or lunches he may be obligated to attend. Just yesterday, you had ordered delivery to his office with your own money, and he had texted you a simple Thank you, little one. To which you responded with a casual, You're welcome 👍.

Smooth.

You're not sure how long your eyes linger over the [Yes] button, the midnight minutes blinking by as you contemplate your next move. Is this the right call? Should you wait until Sylus comes around and tells you on his own about the arranged marriage? Should you just wait until he makes the request instead?

No. You want a clean break. You want to call this off on your terms, essentially saving yourself from the path of destruction that you would undoubtedly set off on. One tap and a press of the lock button immediately after, you burrow yourself into your blankets and will yourself to sleep.

With light sleep at best, you watch with bleary eyes as the sun begins to rise, casting your room into a hue of its golden hour, signifying contentment and new beginnings. But it only elicits dread as you wait for the inevitable end.

-

The shriek of your phone rips you from your mindless daydreaming, and you know who it is before you can even get a good look at the screen.

“Hel–”

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice rings dark, irate, with what you think is the slightest hint of panic laced beneath each syllable.

“Sylus,” you start, but he interrupts you again.

“If I did something to upset you, then you need to let me know. Otherwise, I am at a complete loss for your sudden request to terminate our agreement.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Your attempt to subdue his worries may be futile, but you at least have to try.

“And I’m sure you can see why I don’t believe you for even a second.”

“I mean it though,” you refute. “Look, I’ll explain more when we meet with the company rep.”

“My patience is running thin. Tell me now.”

“Please, please just wait until we meet this evening,” you beseech, on the brink of breaking down while walking back to your apartment from class.

“It was simply a mistake, right?”

“Sylus, please–”

“Fine. Don’t be late.” The beep that follows indicates he has hung up on you. You suppose you got what you wanted, but it feels a hundred times worse.

There will never be enough time in the world for you to be prepared for this moment, standing in the ascending elevator of a discrete yet well-kept high-rise building while clutching a manilla envelope in your hand. The last time you were here was to outline the conditions of the situation with a representative there to help mitigate and ensure that both parties would be satisfied. You suppose they’ll be doing the same thing today, except it would be to ensure a clean split.

As the secretary walks you to the designated conference room, your legs tremble, even more so when she casually adds that Sylus was already here, waiting. She stops and knocks on the door in front of her, announcing your arrival. A sound of approval from inside cues her to open the door and let you in, and you nervously step inside after thanking her. Not that you didn’t believe her earlier, but actually seeing Sylus in the flesh somehow adds to the gravity of the situation.

“We have both parties here now, so let us begin,” the representative says after greeting you with a handshake. Calling out your name and gesturing to you, he states,” You are the one that called to terminate this contractual agreement, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you confirm in a shaky voice and clear your throat. A copy of the contract sits in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the letters that are starting to blur and swirl together. If it means that you don’t have to look at Sylus, you’ll take it.

“Is the reason for the termination due to any violations of the terms and conditions set at the initial meeting?”

“No.”

Despite keeping your head down, you see and hear Sylus shift in his chair. A sudden chill wraps around you, and you slightly shiver.

“Mr. Qin, to your knowledge, did she violate any part of the contract?”

“No.”

“Now let us discuss financial compensation.” Looking towards you again, he asks, “Have you been financially compensated for your services?”

“More than adequately.”

“Per the contract, are there any services you have not been paid for?”

You shake your head. “Sylus does not owe me anything.”

“Then as per company policy, once one party calls for the termination of the contract, the request must be honored to protect the safety of both parties. Any services that were not compensated for would have to be done here in this meeting, but that is not a concern in this case. Please give me a few minutes to draw up the agreement to terminate so that you both can sign it.” The representative gets up and leaves the conference room.

Sylus steals the opportunity to ask the one question that has been on repeat in his mind since he received the notification.

“Why?”

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Sylus relatively well over the last year. Given your lack of explanation over the phone earlier, you know your words alone would never be enough to placate him. With shaky hands, you retrieve the envelope from your lap and slide it across the table, even daring to finally look up at him now. His crimson eyes nearly break you, but you’re grasping onto every last straw to keep yourself sane.

Inside the envelope contained a couple of pictures found online of Sylus’s arranged fiancée, as well as several news articles discussing how her company may be heading towards a merger, but it was unclear on exactly when it would happen and who it would be with. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you’ve seen her several times in passing at various events and fundraisers, and that she and the man sitting across you seemed to avoid each other in public as inconspicuously as possible. You warily watch as he pulls the contents out and freezes, his gaze snapping back to you.

“How did you…?” he inquires.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” you respond softly before switching to a more matter-of-fact tone. “We knew this would come to an end at some point. Considering your arrangement isn’t known to the public yet, it was fine to be seen with me. But when this news breaks out, and if you’re still associated with me, it wouldn’t look good for either of you. You don’t need the reputation as a two-timing womanizer, and she doesn’t need to be publicly perceived as some poor woman who couldn’t keep a hold on you, therefore undermining her achievements.”

“You should have talked to me before going straight to nullifying our contract,” he fires back.

“That would’ve made it harder.”

Sylus leans back in his seat, now regarding you with piqued curiosity. “Made what harder?”

“Maybe that’s not the right expression.” Your palms are starting to get sweaty again, even as they curl and clench tighter than ever, your fingers digging into your palms. There's nothing you can do that would eradicate the shakiness in your voice. “I just meant that talking before now would've made everything complicated.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

 “Well, I thought,” you stammer. “I mean– it’s just talking would’ve, would’ve– let some—” You pause again, desperately trying to find the right words. “Would’ve let some things be said that would’ve, you know, been better to be left unsaid. About us. Between us. Does that make sense?” Your hands have been drawing inane shapes in the air as if they would help aid in Sylus’s (and your) understanding.

“Better unsaid by you or me?”

After a few seconds, you answer hesitantly, “Both, maybe?”

For the first time in months, there are no emotions in his eyes. You have always been able to pick out at least something he may be feeling – affection, frustration, fatigue, lust – but to be on the receiving end of his blank stare like it’s the first day all over again, is unnerving. Agonizing, too.

When he finally opens his mouth, his tone dripping with disdain and mockery, he derides, “Who knew the little kitten thought so highly of herself?”

His words immediately trigger an alarming amount of shame and embarrassment. Have you been reading too much into his actions? Was it all in your head? Did it all occur out of some desperation for something genuine from him?

Oh God.

It’s at this moment that the representative comes back with the papers in hand, and part of you is ready to believe that there may actually be a higher power in the universe. “Thank you for your patience. Once you both have signed the termination agreement, I will make copies for both of you.” He seems completely unaware of the tension that has solidified between you and the CEO, even as you take the pen from the representative with a slight tremor. You quickly scan over the contents because you’re having an increasingly difficult time finding the brain cells to scrutinize each sentence and sign on the indicated lines. After you all but shove the papers across the table, you push your seat back and grab your purse.

“Oh, miss,” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“You can just email me a copy of these. Excuse me, I have something urgent to get to.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before giving a corporate smile. “Of course. Thank you for coming in. Have a good rest of your night.”

“Thank you. You as well.” Your platitude is rushed, almost harsh sounding. You mentally note that you need to send a card that is both a thank-you and an apology for scurrying off like this when you were the one to initiate it.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on your brain and consciousness, so much so that you suddenly find yourself out in the lobby of the building with no recollection of how you even got down here. A gust of fresh air hits you as you step out the doors, and it’s a little easier to breathe now. But it doesn’t mean that your chest isn’t ready to burst, your ribcage threatening to tear open and leave you passed out on the street. It doesn’t mean that Sylus’s words don’t hurt you any less, and the pain of your own embarrassment only compounds on them.

The uncharacteristic chill on this summer night scrapes against your cheeks and ears. You finally will yourself to walk towards the nearest subway station, all the while blinking back tears that just won’t stop coming. Never mind the other pedestrians who may catch a glimpse of you wiping away any physical manifestation of your grief, the other subway riders who may observe you desperately hiding in a corner of the carriage, or even the other residents in your apartment building who watch you furiously tapping your phone while passing by.

With nothing to stop you, not even your own will, you let the tears flow, streaming down the sides of your face and into your pillow as you trace the ridges of your wall, your phone lying innocently a few inches away. Despite deleting his phone number and officially disconnecting on the website, you can’t bring yourself to discard his message thread. There were too many memories, too many reminders of what you once had and will probably never have again.

Your pillow becomes damp with tears of confusion, shame, and regret. How could you be so stupid,so caught up in your own delusions that Sylus Qin, tech mogul and CEO, one of the most secretive and sought-out individuals of the current decade, with connections you couldn’t even dare to dream of, somehow held a shred of genuine affection for you? How could you have thought that his demands to see you night after night were anything more than just wanting some type of company, the kind that does what he says and strokes his ego? How could you have convinced yourself that you were actually special to him?

How could you have put yourself at so much emotional risk for something that was nothing but transactional to begin with? 

The next morning, with one look at your morose expression and the puffiness of your eyes, the other people in your cohort know better than to ask if you’re okay. During the lecture, Jiho silently hands you a piece of gum, a tiny, reoccurring gesture of camaraderie throughout these years of graduate school, as an attempt at providing some type of normalcy. Your movements are sluggish and lethargic as you fold the strip into your mouth, but it’s the first time in the last 18 hours that you feel like things might…just be okay.

-

Two days later, an email comes from the company telling you it is policy to change your phone number, and they will financially compensate for the cost of a new SIM card since it is an inconvenience to you. Hours later, you find yourself in front of a cellphone technician who is setting up the new SIM card. As they type in a few things on their computer, they hand you a pin to help eject your current one. You’re not looking forward to the hassle of telling everyone that your number has changed and fixing it in everything you have that involves your number, but even you understand that this is the first step to a fresh start. Sylus is probably going through the same process, if he already hasn’t gotten it done.

And as your phone sets everything up with the new number, you stare at your closet, now stuffed to the brim with dresses and skirts that you may never wear again. Nothing you do from now on would ever require such formalities. The knowledge of it stings to some degree when you find a large, empty bin that was used when you had moved in. Without ceremony, you begin the mindless task of removing said clothing items from their hangers and folding them into the container. You don’t want to cry. You don’t expect to cry. But the steady streaks of tears dripping down your face is enough to show how much you grew to cherish your time with Sylus.

Time that you will never be able to return to.

[fin]

.

.

.

.

“How did she know?”

“Sylus, what are you–”

“She knew,” Sylus cuts her off. “How could she have known without you tipping her off?”

“Think about this logically. I want this arrangement gone as much as you do, so why would I tell her? She’s your key to dissolving all this.”

“She was more than that.”  

“Was?”

“Shit,” Sylus curses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“...she left you?”

“No,” he retorts. “Not willingly.” At least, that’s what he wants to believe. “But I’m not discussing this with you.”

“And I don’t really care to know the details. So…what are we going to do?”

Sylus’s hand tightens around his newly acquired phone as he stands and gazes out the window at the city skyline from his bedroom. He might be starting to understand why you seemed so entranced by the view.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“I really hope so, Sylus.”

-

-

“Hey boss, we’re here for the daily debrief,” Luke and Kieran announce as they slip into his office and all but collapse into the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m listening,” Sylus says, keeping his eyes trained on his monitor.

“It was the usual. She woke up, skipped breakfast, went to class, stayed in the small office for her professor’s grad students for like, five hours. Uh, what else?”

“Bought a snack from that place in the library that sells coffee and shit,” the other twin adds. “Then she–”

“What snack did she buy?”

“Just some chips, from what we saw.” The twins look at each other and give a slight shrug.

“Did she eat lunch?” Sylus’s tone suggests that he could care less, despite having posed the question.

“She ate something while in the office, but it didn’t look like anything substantial. Oh, but she had a sandwich for dinner. She watched some TV – one of her comfort shows again – and scrolled on her phone while in bed. Did we miss anything?”

“I think that about covers it.”

Luke and Kieran sit in silence, waiting for Sylus’s dismissal. Said man continues to type away on his keyboard.

“Hey boss,” Kieran starts and immediately earns a “shut the fuck up” look from Luke. “We’ve been doing this for a year.”

“Which is fine,” Luke adds right after.  “We’re not complaining.”

“Right, we’re not complaining. But uhh,” Kieran continues. “How long do you expect for this to go on for?”

“As long as it needs to. You’re dismissed.”

Not long after the twins disappear from his view, he runs a hand through his silvery locks, frustration and tension evident in his strained tendons and veins. Sylus locks his computer and grabs the coat off his chair before sauntering down to his car many, many floors below where the parking garage is. But instead of walking towards his sports car, the one that had sat in a visitor spot of your apartment parking lot all those months ago, he makes his way to an unsuspecting black sedan, its brand common and inconspicuous. Without any need for a GPS, Sylus pulls out and drives to your apartment complex.

In the darkness of twilight and beneath the shadows of beechnut trees, he leans against the steering wheel and gazes up at your window, a luminescent yellow shimmering through the curtains. They haven’t been pulled completely shut, but there is nothing to see in the light regardless. The minutes that pass do not feel like time in any way as he sits in a somewhat meditative state, and the only thing that could snap him out of it is when your bedroom lights switch dark. In reality, fifteen minutes pass before he watches your shadow, then your figure, approach the windowpane.

Sylus takes the little time he has to observe you, to see if you appear any different than yesterday. Did you have a full meal? Was your research stressful? Were you making use of the money he had paid you before everything ended? Were you getting enough rest and nutrition?

When he can no longer see you, he falls back in his seat and lets out a heavy sigh, exhaustion weighing heavily on his eyes. Sylus starts his car and throws it in reverse, and he spends his twenty-minute drive home thinking about nothing but you, his cold, empty bed, and how maybe, as much as he wants to deny it on all fronts, you two were not meant to be. Yet he holds onto hope that he can defy that fate eventually, because whether you know it or not…

You will always be his.

[hana-no-seiiki]

STILL INTO YOU

yandere batfam x cat villain! reader (+extra!!)

synopsis: moments wherein the batfam n co. realize that after all this time they’re still into you

status: unedited.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:] Super sorry for the lack of fics everyone!! Lately I found out that my DID symptoms have gotten worse and that I’ve experienced a full blackout (and possibly more, I just have no memory of it). So I’ve just been trying to recuperate my mental health for a while with art related stuff. Which, on the positive side of things, means that I’ll be releasing a Webtoon (pilot) around this July!! Hope to see you guys there during the release!!

Can’t count the years on one hand

That we’ve been together

I need the other one to hold you.

Make you feel, make you feel better.

You never realized how much Bruce knew you until you two sat down and had a meal together. Why? You might ask. Well, you were supposed to have a dinner date with Tim today at the manor, but he was unfortunately caught up on a case. You were about to cancel it, maybe cause some chaos in town and then chill with Jason as revenge for your bestie bailing — but Tim insisted you hung out with his father instead.

The pair knew it was the only way for you to (A) Behave and (B) not sleep with Jason for the nth time that week.

Gazing at all your favorite foods displayed upon the excessively extravagant and expensive table you realized that aside from the second youngest, Bruce knew you the most out of everyone in the Batfamily by virtue of his contingencies and overall time as the Batman while you were training to be Catwoman’s successor.

It was so odd, seeing him so calm and not so hostile when you were around. Eerie.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I always saw you as a threat. Treated you like one. But you were just a kid stuck in a situation you didn’t have a hand on. I’m truly sorry. For treating you that way.”

“. . . Isn’t it your job? No hard feelings really. I’d be creeped out if you treated me so nicely — not the food though this is very much welcomed.” You ranted as you stuck a fork into your steak, pointing it at Bruce’s face. Yet, as much as how you were failing to achieve proper etiquette he didn’t seem annoyed more so . . . surprised?

“I hope to see you have dinner here again next week.” His hands stretched to awkwardly pat your head.

“Depends, will I have more of Alfred’s steak again?”

It's not a walk in the park

To love each other.

But when our fingers interlock,

Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it.

Koriand’r wasn’t an idiot. She knew about Dick’s lingering feelings for you.

Perhaps she may be. Considering the fact that she still tried to be in a relationship with him even then.

“Shit. Kitty? Kitty! Wake up you hear me?!”

“. . . I’m. . .” You coughed, groaning at the pain it triggered all throughout your body “ . . . here . .”

You raised your hand, too weak to reach his face you settled with holding his own. Dick squeezed your intertwined hands with a pained expression , and an intimacy unfamiliar to the alien.

But that wasn’t what made Koriand’r finally understand how hopeless their relationship was.

It was the fear in his face. His pretty features morphed into one of horror.

Ah, even after all this time. Dick couldn’t live without you.

Cause after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Jason spent many, many grueling years under the influence of the LoA. And not once did his body forget the feeling of you.

The butterflies, the heart wrenching pain of being apart from you, and the fleeting, venomous hatred you two shared.

After all, it was your name that escaped his lips the moment he awoke from the dead. Your face the first on his mind. Your voice that he longed to hear again.

He had plenty of time to prepare for this moment. Months? Maybe even years.

“Hey, cool helmet. You a Deadpool fan or . . ?”

But even then, your appearance still made him more nervous than confronting his family once more. More nervous than fighting the villain that ended his life.

“Yikes, awful cut you got there. Need me to patch you up buddy?”

You had grown. He had too, even if it was through some magic, deus ex machina water. Seeing the change in your features, how you shed your youthful look of naïvete and grew into a beautiful/handsome/pretty specimen almost made him break all his plans just to be with you again.

“I know that you’re shy and all but I need words.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here til the vigilantes show up.”

For his revenge’s sake he hopes that you’ll stay for longer.

Recount the night that I first

Met your mother

And on the drive back to my house

I told you that, I told you that I loved ya.

You felt the weight of the world

Fall off your shoulder

And to your favorite song

We sang along to the start of forever

It was one of those nights when you intruded on the Batfam’s nightly patrols. This time your victim was Damian. And strangely, no one else. He explained that the rest were taking a break.

Leaving out the fact that he poisoned them with some self engineered laxatives.

It was relatively calm until a heist suddenly started in one of the banks you wanted to pick off. Damn.

“Hey, I didn’t know you listened to [Favorite Artist(s)]” You eyes widened at the sound of the music playing the background as Joker’s men began to surround you and Robin.

“Just a casual listener. How did you meet my mother anyhow?” Damian sheathed his katana. Opting to take down his foes by hand to hand combat as he peeled his eyes and ears to listen to you.

Besides he could see that your eyes weren’t on him anyways, so there was no point in showing off.

. . . Not that he was doing that.

“Huh? Well, I know everyone really.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He sighed, bashing a poor guy’s face with his knees, his hands adding force with a pull — yikes. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“She hated me at first. Courtesy of Cat Woman and the Bat being together.” You turned to him, and he ducks.

“Then I lost someone really, really important to me. More than anything in this world. More than this world itself.” Your whip meets a goon behind him. Both of you hear a splat sound as the man falls to the floor. “And while everyone was calling me insane, when everything was breaking down around me. She was the only one who didn’t judge me for . . . the things that I did.”

“She supported me and was there for me no matter what.” You gaze at the blood on your weapon and cringe. “And then I realized your dad was an absolute bastard for leaving her behind. So I took up the mask again and made it my mission to make his life miserable."

"Even after the dinner?"

"Especially. Wanna bet on how long til he snaps?"

"Deal."

And after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And one of those is you and I

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And even after all this time

Tim honestly didn’t think he had it as bad as his brothers. Sure, he watched your every move and had extensive digital libraries on everything about you, but he did that for everyone. He was more rational; a man that clung unto his senses.

No it wasn’t his actions that made him realize how dangerously important you were to him, it was the way he felt doing so.

After an excessively arduous mission, the first thing he does as he gets back home is to open up his devices and get back to work. Surprise surprise, the stress wouldn’t go away. Not even when he stopped to play some games or catch up on Dungeon Meshi’s last episodes. And that always, always made him relax.

Anxious, his hands subconsciously guide him to that one folder.

Click Click

Dozens if not hundreds of holographic photos, videos and even fan art of you surrounded him.

Tim stares at a video he took when he first found out your identity.

Curling up into a ball with a blanket surrounding him, he slowly drifts off to sleep. Your voice lulling him into his overdue journey to dreamland.

Yeah, he was more rational than the rest. Yet, some things just made sense. Like you being the only thing in this world that manages to make his heart race and anxieties run away.

I'm into You

Baby not a day goes by that

I'm not into you

Jon was a bit dense. But even then he could see the signs of his best friend slowly losing himself to love and infatuation.

He would have been happy,

if it weren’t for the fact that he had a crush on you first.

Being the sweetheart he is, he backed off, respectful of Damian’s feelings (even if the latter wasn’t of his).

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

“Woah, you guys are done already?” Jon landed. As soon as he heard that he’d be able to fight alongside you after what felt like years (it was a couple of weeks), he flew all the way from Metropolis in record time.

If he knew what awaited him he probably wouldn’t have left at all.

“Yeah.” You gave him a thumbs up. Your head laid atop Damian’s lap as the domino masked vigilante ran his hands through your hair. His gloves off to his side.

“C-Cool.”

Jon cried himself to sleep that night.

Even after knowing of Damian’s feelings all this time, he could never stop his own.

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

I'm still into you

I'm still into you

[ NEXT PART : NOBODY GETS ME ]

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

A memory || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by @sommerspage divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: You have never questioned Coriolanus about what happened during his exile as peacemaker. But when the truth is revealed, Snow’s past quickly comes to haunt him.

Warning: blood, mention of infidelity, miscarriage

Wc: 1,818

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

“I really don’t think this is a good idea y/n.” Snow paces around the room as you sip your tea. “I’ll be fine Coryo, It’s a duty as First Lady that I need to do. It brings hope and somewhat unity to the districts.” Snow stops to look at you, his piercing blue eyes never failing to make you squirm under his gaze.

“If any of them touch you I swear-“ He storms your direction before you cut him off, “No one is going to touch me Snow. The baby and I will be perfectly fine.” You reach for his hand and place it on the barely there swell of your stomach. He lets out a sigh, dropping to his knees as he leans his head gently on your stomach.

“I want you back in one piece, untouched.” He softly says as you put your hands on either side of his face. “I promise.” Was all you said before kissing his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his soft tender lips that moulded perfectly against yours.

A knock at the door made you look behind your back, “The train is ready,” A voice called out. Snow stands up, towering over you as you embrace him in a tight hug. “Be safe. I love you.” He says against your hair as you rub his back. “I love you too,” You say, muffled slightly against his chest.

The trip to all the districts was going to take some time, around 3 months or so. 3 months away from the Capitol, 3 months away from your Coriolanus. But as First Lady, it was your duty to bring a sense of unity and hope to everyone, including the districts.

Coriolanus was against this trip ever since your brought it up. After his exile, he never spoke about what happened during his years as a peacekeeper, all you knew was that he sacrificed so much to return and become President. You never probed him into telling you exactly what happened, you just knew it was something he rather kept a distant memory.

~

Visiting each district went smoothly. Majority of the people respected you. And you only treated them with equalness and kindness. That was just who you were. Coriolanus ensured that the most strongest guards accompanied you. You felt safe most of the time.

Except for an attack during your visit to district 8. You weren’t harmed but shaken up to say the least. When news of this came back to the Capitol, Coriolanus urged you to finish your trip that instance and return but your refused, saying it would only make people perceive you as weak, and just like the others at Capitol.

Nearly 3 months had passed and you finally made it to the last district, district 12. You were already 3 months pregnant. District 12 was the poorest and smallest district, but you personally enjoyed it the most. Lots of singing and dancing happened around which you enjoyed after an exhausting 3 months of travelling.

You were sat at the back of a bar where everyone was dancing and singing along to the female singer on stage. Guards were by your side, ready for anything that may come your way. All of a sudden, a woman came up to you, she had a cloak over her head, slightly covering her face.

The guards came closer to you but you gestured them to back off. “Lady Y/n, It is an honour to see you here in our district,” Her voice spoke. You smile, “It’s my pleasure. I find district 12 my favourite, but don’t go telling the other districts that” You chuckle as the woman does the same.

“What’s your name?” You ask, trying to search her features that were covered. “Lucy. Lucy Gray Baird.” That name. It was so familiar to you. “Have I met you? Lucy Gray?” You try and dig through your memories seeing if you could match the name to a face.

She chuckles. “I don’t think so. Though I am familiar with your Husband, the President.” She pulls back her hood and it all clicked. Lucy Gray. Coriolanus’ tribute during the 10th hunger games. “I’m familiar with you now Lucy. The tribute my husband mentored, the tribute he cheated for.” You nod your head at her as she smiles.

You knew Coriolanus was a peacekeeper in this very district. What you didn’t understand was why he was relocated from district 8 to district 12. A surge of curiosity courses through your veins. Curiosity to what happened here while Snow was peacekeeper, what sacrifices he had to make in order to become President.

“Would you like to sit down? I have a few questions I hope you are able to answer for me, please.” Your voiced out in slight desperation. Lucy studies you for a moment before nodding her head. You look towards the guards who nodded their head and give the two of you space, but still on watch out.

“My husband was to be a peacekeeper in district 8 yet he was relocated here. Do you know any reason as to why that happened? I need you to be completely honest with me Lucy.” You felt a sense of guilt. You promised Snow you wouldn’t dig into what happened during his exile, but you couldn’t help it.

“I will be completely honest with you, Y/n.” You take her hands in yours as she glances down at your hands. “Coriolanus relocated here because of me,” She slowly said as you search her eyes to see if she was lying. She wasn’t.

You swallow as you urged her to continue. She then revealed everything to you. From bobbin being murdered by him in the arena, to him killing the mayor’s daughter Mayfair, and the death of Sejanus which she suspected was Snow’s doing. Lucy also revealed to you her relationship that she had with Coriolanus.

It started even when you and Coriolanus were together, but you just had no idea. You tried to stay as far away as you could from the hunger games. You were utterly shocked. It made so much sense to you. Snow’s words hinted what he did and Lucy’s words backed them up perfectly.

“And what happened between you and him?” You fidget with your fingers. “I was scared. So scared of him Y/n. I thought he was going to kill me when he found guns in the cabin. And that was exactly what he tried doing but I escaped.” Lucy let out a shaky breath as you listen intently. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me this.” You hold her hands before placing money in them as her eyes widen.

“Take care Lucy Gray.” Was all you said before you got up, leaving the bar. “This trip comes to an end right now.” Your voice was shaky as you step into the train back to the Capitol. Your mind was swirling with thoughts. What Lucy Gray told you made you question so many things about Snow.

You knew he would never hurt you. But there was still the lingering thought that he might. You knew Snow came back a changed man, but you never knew how much he had changed and what sacrifices he had to make. The trip back felt like an eternity. You could hardly sleep, drink or eat. Thoughts plagued your mind.

The train came to a halt, but you were deep in thought to even realise. A hand touched your arm, “Are you okay?” Coriolanus asks in a worried tone as you stare at him in confusion. “Y/n? Y/n!” Was all you heard before you saw blackness.

~

You slowly open your eyes as you adjust to the bright light. You look around your surroundings and felt a heavy weight on your hand. “Coryo?” You weakly say as he wakes up in surprise. “Y/n. Thank God you’re okay,” He hugs you tightly.

“What happened?” You touch your head that was pounding, “You passed out on the train. The doctors said you barely ate anything or slept. What happened?” He asks as he cups your face in his big hands. Memories of what happened came running back to you.

Lucy Gray’s words came back to you. You suddenly push Coriolanus off of you. He looks at you in shock. “Did I do something?” “Get out.” You softly say, refusing to look at him. “What? Y/n-“ “I said get out Coriolanus!” You say this time louder and more stern. He swallows hard, before leaving you alone just as you asked.

You uncontrollably start to sob. Your heart was aching so much. You understood he had to do whatever it took but killing those innocent people…. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. As you sobbed you felt something wet in between your legs. You pause. No. No.

You quickly throw the blanket off of you as you scream at the sight of blood. “Help! Someone please help me!” You scream as tears continue to fall down your face. The door burst open to reveal Snow there, a horrified look on his face at the sight of blood. “Why me?” Was all you said in between your sobs as Snow runs out.

~

“I’m so sorry,” The doctor says to Coriolanus as you lay on your side, your back facing him as hot tears streamed down your face. You had just lost the baby. Exhaustion, lack of sleep and food led to it. “Y/n…” Snow’s voice was soft, you flinch at his touch on your shoulder as he backs off.

“She told me everything.” You manage to say, you turn over but refuse to look him in the eyes. Confusion etched his features at what you possible could mean. “Lucy Gray. She told me everything” Coriolanus’ features harden at the sound of her name. “She’s lying. You honestly trust a district’s word?”

“Everything she said made pretty darn sense Coriolanus. The sacrifices you made? You mean killing your best friend and innocent people! And you and Lucy. Look me in the eyes and tell me that never happened.” He looked taken back. You sobbed as you cover your mouth in disbelief. “I can’t believe this oh my god!”

“Do you even love me?” You asked. Coriolanus rushed to your side, taking your hands in his. “Of course I do. Of course I love you Y/n. More than anything. I did whatever it took to come back to you. You have to understand that.” A few tear drops fall from his eyes as he pleads.

“I just need time and-and space. Please.” You screw your eyes shut as you look away. Coriolanus sniffles before standing up, straightening his jacket as he nods. “Of course, I understand.” As soon the door shut closed, another round of tears gush from your eyes.

[jo-speaks]

Requesting 🎂 for Jack Hughes with “I want to forget. Just help me forget” (- reader) and a “Can I touch you here?” (- Jack) pleaseeeee

warnings: oral sex (fem!recieving)

note: this may or may not have been inspired by me failing one of my finals..

Finals week had you so beat into the ground that the only response your body could muster after the last one was crashing onto the couch of your apartment and sleeping for 12 hours straight.

Jack had called you multiple times throughout your long slumber, worry overtaking his body when you hadn’t answered at all. So, his only logical answer was to use the spare key to enter your home, something that he rarely ever did. 

He had come into your room right as you were waking up, seeing you stir and flinch as you met his eyes. 

“Jack? What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “You weren’t answering your phone, I thought you were dead!” You joined him in laughter, sitting up and running your fingers through your hair. Jack sat down next to you, joining you under the covers as you reached for your phone.

A notification shot you right away as you saw it said one of your tests had been graded. It was the one that you had studied the hardest for, having flooded your system with caffeine as you spent hours in the library. 

Jack noticed the change in your energy, “You alright?”

“My final got graded.”

His eyes widened, “Damn, already?” You nodded, hesitating to click it before shoving your phone into Jack’s hands, “You want me to open it?”

You simply nodded, bringing a pillow to your front to hug it, nerves overtaking your body as you watched Jack click the notification, pulling up your grade. Jack’s face was hard to read, his expression remaining neutral as it loaded. 

“Well?” 

Jack shut off the phone, setting it down behind him as his face shifted into one of sympathy. He took your hand in his, his thumb running across your skin. “45.”

“Oh.” was the only word that came out of your mouth, your body slumping back into your mattress. 

Jack let out a soft noise, laying down with you as he pulled you closer to him. He didn’t say a word, your tears tickling his chest as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. “It’s okay, baby. Your grade is still high enough to pass the class.” 

He was right, but his words didn’t do much to ease the feeling in your stomach. Still, you didn’t want to spend the day thinking about a grade that, in reality, didn’t matter. You wiped your eyes dry, offering your boyfriend a smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Jack nodded, “You wanna watch a movie? I can order in.”

~~~

The two of you were four movies in, the mix of genres helping your mind clear just a little bit, but the lingering memory of failing had yet to leave. 

Jack had given up on watching the current movie playing, opting to settle his face into your chest, placing the occasional kiss on your breasts. A few minutes later they became more frequent, and somehow, even more needy.

Normally when this happened, your fingers would be entangled in his hair, tugging at the curls in hopes to bring him up to your lips. But tonight, your hands lay beside you, not touching him at all. 

“Still thinking about it, aren’t you?” He mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Just wanna forget about it.” 

Jack looked up at you, a frown appearing on his face as he could see tears starting to well up again no matter how hard you were trying to focus on the TV in front of you. He hated seeing you upset, especially when it came to school. He was very aware of how serious you were about your education, which made him very aware of what was going on inside your head.

He pushed himself up a bit, his face right in front of yours. He didn’t speak, simply leaning in to connect his lips to yours. 

It was slow and gentle, his kiss telling you everything he wanted you to know. Your hand came up to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Jack groaned at the feeling, his arms wrapping around you and shifting your bodies so that you rested on top of him, legs on either side of his and warm hands on your hips. 

The intensity of the kiss picked up, and the need to be closer to each other became suffocating. “Jack, please.”

You could feel his smirk against your lips. “Yeah? What do you need, baby?”

He pulled back, wanting to see you as you told him exactly what you needed from him. Your eyes met his, your eyes watery from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling at the moment, “I want to forget.”

You could see the falter in Jack’s face, your voice barely above a whisper, “Just help me forget.”

Jack nodded, his hands squeezing your sides before flipping you over, your back now lying comfortably against the bed. He kissed your lips one last time before trailing all the way down to your lower stomach. 

He halted his kisses, eyes peering up at you, “Can I touch you here?”

Your words were caught in your throat, a whine slipping past your lips causing a smile to appear on Jack’s face as you pulled yourself together, “Yeah.”

“Atta girl.” He teased, his mouth moving lower to lap at your folds over your panties with his tongue, “Promise I’ll make you feel so good. My smart girl.” 

He brought up his hand, fingers pushing the damp fabric to the side before pressing his tongue flat against you, a soft moan escaping you. 

Jack was usually messy, his mouth going wherever it wanted, but tonight, he was calculated. His movements were strategic, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit in ways he knew you liked, but switching it up to take your mind off of anything else. The inconsistent actions had you wanting for more, your hand pushing Jack closer to your core. 

He could feel you getting close already, your hips rutting gently against his face. Jack knew you could get off like this, but he wanted to give you more. He brought his forearm up to hold your waist down, his wrist twisted awkwardly to keep your panties out of his way.

His tongue trailed lower, the muscle now prodding at your entrance as his nose pressed at your swollen clit. “Fuck, Jack!” You cried, the feeling blurring anything else going on in your mind, filling it with only one thing. 

Jack.

You could feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten as he got sloppy with it, the noises of his tongue moving across your pussy filling the room close to pornographic. 

It was hard to miss the feeling of his smirk against you as well, his own mind fogging up with your whispered praises, his hips now rutting against the mattress to provide some sort of stimulation. 

“Let go for me, pretty girl.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his words doing just that.

Your hips lifted slightly off of the bed, a sinful moan leaving your throat. Jack too, moaned at the feeling of your juices leaking all over his face, the feeling something he’d never get tired of. 

As you came down from your high, your senses came back to you. Jack was still moving at the same pace as he had before, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. 

You pushed your palm against his head, hoping for him to give you a break, “Jack!”

He shook his head against you, the feeling overwhelming, “You’ve got another one in you.”

[sibillascribbles08]

Big Ol' Rottmnt Fic Rec List

Hi, I've needed to do this for a while, so here's a big bundle of fic recs from me !

I've broken it down between one shots, chaptered fics, and series. I'll try to mention what the character focus is along with a brief summary and some personal thoughts. If you need more details I encourage you to check the fics summary and tags for yourself! I will only include an author's tumblr account if it's easy for me to find haha

One Shots

Mama's Boy - ashtreelane: Technically two chapters but it feels like a one shot. Casey Jr. angst, involving him finding out that maybe you can fix kraang infections and that he failed to save his mother. I love when people really pile the grief on Junior after all the fighting is over and the fic does it so well.

Forget-Me-Nots - GibbousLunation (AKA @klunkcat ): Hi, oh my god??? Leo and Mikey centric angst, in which saving Leo from the prison dimension has an insane ripple effect. Mikey dying? Nah he's going to start getting erased from every timeline and Leo slowly watches it happen (and refuses to do nothing about it). I utterly adore how this fic handles this concept. You see almost all of it from Leo's POV, noticing the little changes but writing them off as memory failures, because of how subtle some of it is.

Fight or Flight - pickledcarrotsandradish: Leo centric, post movie, Leo keeps waiting for his family to start lecturing him about all the dumb stuff he did during the invasion, and they aren't, so it's getting to him. A very neat narrative about how self loathing can warp our perception of how others see us. A++++

The Friend Zone Sounds Pretty Good, Actually - Cryptvokeeper: Eating this, eating this. You probably already know I love aroace Leo and this fic is an INCREDIBLE exploration of that. Even as just an ace person it hit SO many notes where I was just like "Oh god... I've been there buddy". And as a bonus the dynamic between Leo and Yuichi is v sweet. Love this a lot I've read it like five times.

Pink in The Night - unnamedmystery: Incredible April/Sunita fic. Like seriously this author wrote April's crush so well I think I was starting to fall in love with Sunita. Just incredibly cute all the way through, and great April writing, adore it.

《 until then, matriarch 》 - chiangyorange: HI OH MY GOD A nice chunky oneshot about Karai, about her being a leader, and it's phenomenal. It hits and hits and does not miss, really going in depth about her emotions involving her father turning into something wicked and having to destroy him, and how it ruins all of her good memories.

The Kindness of Collision - SpoonerizedSwiftness (AKA @splickedylit ): Hi I still remember the fic and the art suddenly showing up in the tag and then I was thinking about it for the next like five weeks aslkdjf A very interesting idea that when the turtles reach the age they were in the doomed timeline before things got reset, all the memories of their other life more or less hit them like a train. All of them have to comb through that information and it's a wonderful and emotional ride.

Chaptered Fics

Hamartia - Punable (in progress): Hi this is one of my all time favorite rise fics, mainly because in a way, it helped me come to terms with my chronic pain. It's Donnie centric and smack full of angst in all the best ways. Shorthand summary, an explosion in Donnie's lab almost takes him out (or kind of DOES take him out) and the recovery is not only long and agonizing, it may only go so far, and Donnie doesn't cope well with that.

Kick It Up a Notch - Brokenpitchpipe (completed): Hi this is my other all time fav rise fic. Donnie centric separated AU in which Donnie is raised by Draxum. My love for it stems a lot from the characterization of Donnie though, and even Draxum in this case. Not to mention that in a lot of cases it matches the vibes of the show. And in spite of all the humor, there's a few really gut wrenching moments. 10/10 will re-read.

Lightning in Our Fingertips Today - DaFlangsLairde (AKA @daflangstlairde-art) (completed): Leo and Donnie centric, mostly angst, with body swapping between the twins which results in Donnie finding out that Leo's ninpo hurts him. Love love love the character writing in this, and also how the swap is written.

Under Pressure - ParvumAutomaton (completed): Not sure this is a single character focused fic, but basically April goes cave diving and is out for a while, and the turtles get worried and go looking for her. This might be personal bias but as someone who gets really into caving stories, this fic hits the spot for so many reasons. A really great emotional ride, and if you wanna see April go through it then I super recommend it.

Nothing Haunts Us (like the things we don't say) - mad_and_thick_as_theives (completed): A lot of great fics by this author btw, but this one personally stood out to me. It starts of silly and light only to sweep in with the emotional weight. Turtles are all cursed with a truth spell, basically, but I think my favorite bit is who gets out of it first (and why). V sweet.

Creation of a Philospher's Stone - IgnisCanis (completed): Whoooo boy, if you want some Draxum centric character exploration this is a great one. It really fleshes him out as a morally grey character and also does a fantastic job at writing Mikey when he finds out.

The Ol Switcheroo - radishhqueen (AKA @radishhqueen) (completed): Haha not going to lie I have a few by this author (so I'll only tag them once) but MAN. Hands down my favorite take on future leo coming to the past, and maybe I'm biased because I like when those fics actually explore Junior's character in the process buuuuut I love it. Junior's already struggling to adapt himself to the present, and after getting caught up in a foot clan spell which summons his sensei to the present too it really doesn't get any easier.

Vigilantism for Fun and Profit - radishhqueen (completed): The Cassandra Jones fic ever. Zero contest. If you're uncertain about writing Cassandra because she had so little development in the show I encourage you to read this for inspiration (I know it inspired me a lot). It does such a great deep dive into her character post show and a bit of the movie too. Honestly anytime radishh has a Cassandra fic I am clicking.

Tried to Grow Up Good - Sroloc_Elbisivni (AKA @sroloc--elbisivni )(completed): The Casey Jr. fic ever. CRAZY in love with this post movie take on him. It's messy, it's fun, it's so so real and you get a good chunk of Casey Sr. in here too. Adore it.

Hold On (Or Three Times Donatello's Soft Shell Almost Killed Him, and One Time it Saved His Life) - dunk_on_em (AKA @spockazilla )(completed): If you ever want a bit of angst involving Donnie's shell this is my go to. Every chapter has an emotional swing, even the positive ones. And shows something most people might see as a disadvantage as a good thing, actually.

Atlas, My Brother - swampcryptid (AKA @the-name-is-rizzotherat)(in progress): Get your Raph angst, specifically involving him always shielding his siblings, this time via a curse. My guy is already going through it and I think it'll get worse if a solution isn't found.

I've Got You Under My Skin - Cass_Phoenix (in progress): More Raph angst, and some Donnie, a truly chilling exploration of the possible consequences to connecting with the kraang. This fic constantly has me on the edge of my seat, and constantly stressing for Raph.

What We Leave Behind (How We Start Anew) - iam57311 (AKA @iam-57311)(in progress): Any Baronjitsu fans here? An alternate take on canon in which Draxum and Splinter co-parent the kids since they're first born (made?) Hilariously while I love the Baronjitsu content in here, I think some of my favorite parts are actually with the sisters, Big Mama, and Draxum's sister who is so so cool I love her.

Proof of Redemption - iam57311 (complete): Another one of theirs! A short and sweet lil close to canon fic about Draxum steadily gaining the trust and affection of the Hamatos, with each chapter focused on a different character. I love how they're all paced out from each other, really hits how some are much slower than others to trust Draxum hehe.

No Crime* Only Brooches - OllieTheScribe (AKA @olliethescribe) (in progress): Well I have to get THE HypnoWarren fic in here. Such a fun take on these characters, I love love love the backstory they built up for Warren too, plus the dynamic between these two and the turtles after (eventually) become friends haha.

Minor Interference - bambiraptorx (AKA @bambiraptorx) (in progress): What can I say? This fic is delightful. Between the hilarity of the turtles going with Draxum just to mess with him, the lore additions for yokai and the Hidden City, HoH Donnie, and their slowly building dynamic, always eager for a new chapter with this one.

Series

A Butterfly with a Mechanical Wing - Amethyst_Goldenwind (AKA @amethystgoldenwind ): Donnie centric series about being a non-verbal autistic. I'm always fond of non-verbal/mute explorations of characters, and so far I really like how, because his family has grown up with it, all of it is very normal for them. The various forms of communication are delightful. Excited to see further entries.

Analogous Hues - alwerakoo (AKA @alwerakoo): It's a separated AU with similar titling themes as my own, needed to check it out. The titles are just about all they have in common though! This AU focuses a lot on the turtles (Raph and Leo with Splinter and Donnie and Mikey with Draxum). I love how this explores not only the dynamics of the two groups and how different they are, but also the dynamics between each of the siblings, also how some magic sibling connections can influence that. Not to mention the different home life in more ways than one. If you're into separated AUs that really dig into the turtles dynamics try this one out !

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[modernquackfare]

Hi, I'm hoping I'm in the right place to send in a request. I was wondering if you'd do konig taking a new rookie reader (female) to practice her aim as she sucks. (I like fluff, but if it can end in nsfw, all the better)

A/N: Thanks so much for the request! Sorry for taking a while to finish it up 😭Hope you like!

König/Fem!Reader - Aim Training

CW: Description of light violence, PIV sex, cum eating (kind of), bad jokes MDNI

A few inches. You missed by a few goddamn inches.

You didn’t know his name—had likely never spoken to him before. But you were to only one to watch as a blade sank into his ribs, snuffing out a life that you failed to save, because you missed your shot.

Eventually, you managed to avenge the poor man by taking the life of the one who took his—but the memory of the ordeal kept you up at night. So here you are, four weeks later, practicing your aim close to midnight when the lights have long since been dimmed, everyone in their respective barracks or rooms, or finishing up for the night.

Reload. BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM. Reload.

“I don’t mean to…er, be rude, but you seem to be missing more than you are striking,” a raspy, mirthful voice sounds out. You startle. In the midst of firing through your eighth magazine, you must have missed the sound of the door clicking, and König walking through.

König. You don’t know him well, what with him always being silent during briefings, off on a mission, or back home outside of deployment, wherever that may be. What you do know, though, is that he’s an absolute unit, a formidable leader, and always the most anxious one in a crowded room. Perhaps that’s what surprises you the most, seeing as how he’s so cavalierly speaking to you, as if you are his friend of years past.

Maybe you just don’t intimidate him. The thought, strangely, angers you. He’s not even your direct superior—what makes him so qualified to pick apart your abilities? You scoff softly. He can fuck off and do his own shooting, on the other side of the range.

“It’s why I’m here to practice,” you mutter, toeing the line of a snarky remark.

König chuckles, a stupidly amused laugh that makes you want to turn your pistol to him. Of course, you don’t. “Practice…only works when you practice right. Keep going like that, I don’t foresee any improvement in your aim.”

“Foresee my foot up your—“ You silently mutter before calming yourself. That too only elicits a breath of amusement from the man, and before you know it there’s a presence behind you. Unwanted, and yet overly willing to butt his head into what doesn't concern him.

“First—don’t think so much about missing. And shoot on the exhale, when you can.” König gestures towards the targets at the end of the range, "Bend your knees slightly, and don't fight the recoil. Here—like this." He demonstrates with a phantom gun, and you can't resist the laugh that escapes your lips, watching him pose beside you. König seems to take it in stride and laughs just as much, if not more than you, before releasing his pose once it seemed you had the hang of it. Still, mere poses don't seem to satisfy him. Before you know it, his hands are on your gun. "Adjust your grip, spatz, you're strangling it," he murmurs. Gloved fingers gently, deftly reposition yours, coaxing your angrily tense hands into loosening up. "Give it some room to move, and don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it, like, eh—a lemon."

He makes a motion with his fingers and hand, as if holding a taco. What a dork. You giggle in response. "You're gonna make me hungry."

"Then go have a snack, once you've learned." König's hand closes over yours, and for a moment you shiver. What's with that? You hope he didn't notice.

There's a presence on your shoulder before you can gather your bearings. His head, shrouded by that homemade t-shirt mask of his, peeks over beside your cheek. “The front sight must line up perfectly with the rear," König mutters, practically embracing you as he lays a hand on your shoulder, and moves the other to tilt up your arms, just enough for said sights to line up. "Focus on the front sight more than the target.”

"God, that bad?" You laugh as he moves your hands way farther up.

"Not bad. Improving. It's...how do you say...work in progress."

Even as he perfects your aim, König doesn't pull back. "Better," He rumbles, right in your ear, warmth curling around his words. That little hitch of breath sends you somewhere deep into a hole of imagery that you don't dare to follow down. He may not be your superior, and this may not be the military, but he still outranks you.

"Yeah?" You pant, helpless to your brain's trickery.

König's hand, still on your shoulder, his arm looped around you—still, you wouldn't dare to fantasize. But what a sweet thought that is, of his gloves catching on your skin as he—No. You won't do this to yourself. "You could be a very good shot, spatz," König nudges you, as if congratulating a student on an excellent test score. "A few more weeks in the range, some guidance, and you'll be cured of your Izzy-itis yet." "Izzy...itis?" You murmur, questioningly.

König waves it away. "Inside joke. She was a very bad shot, unless they were moving."

"Guidance, though..." You probe, perhaps out of a stroke of boldness from succeeding at hitting targets for once in your sharpshooting career. "Not sure if anyone's going to want to stick around and train me for that long."

König's gaze flashes just the way you pictured it would, his hand sliding from your shoulder, down to the middle of your back. If you visibly shuddered at the light touch, he made no sign of recognition. "Don't be silly," he claps at the delicate curve of your spine. "I'll guide you. I'm a better shot than half of KorTac, so do not make the mistake of seeking advice in faulty places."

"Now get to sleep, before you subject yourself to sunken eyes," König proceeds, taking just one careful step forward. "Unless you have other...issues I can help you with."

"Other issues?" You raise your eyebrows. Is he—? No, he wouldn't...but you are not an idiot. That look, that tone. He may be a superior, but he is also human. You stand straight, facing him head on. "Any issues, sure?"

"Ja," König nods, perhaps remembering that he is as much a man as you are a woman as he rolls his broad shoulders, chin tilted slightly to the sky. "I am versatile. You know the meaning of that word." It's not a question. You stiffen, far too conscious of yourself, of your body, leaning just a bit forward as König's gaze flicks up and down your face. Were you able to see more than just those crystal blue eyes, you're sure he'd be smirking. A stupid little smirk that only he could pull off and still win with.

"Well," You stammer, averting your gaze. Damn, if you look straight ahead, you only see his pecs. Curse his height. "I—I, uh, I've been having trouble...relaxing lately." It's the corniest, stupidest thing you've said all year. And somehow, it works. “Have you?” König tilts his head, draping hood shifting as he leans down to hover over you. Oh yeah. This is exactly what you thought he was getting after. Thank goodness you haven't embarrassed yourself and made a foolish assumption in addition to your lack of aiming skill.

“Mhm. You planning on sleeping anytime soon, sir?”

“Maybe,” König shrugs. “Are you, spatz?”

“Depends,” you breathe clever words hitching in your chest, “I might be willing to stay up a bit longer.”

***

There’s not an inch of hesitation when König all but crowds you into the first wall he can reach once the door to his room is closed behind himself. Your head knocks into the wall with a thud—nothing painful, but certainly a surprise. König reacts instantaneously, his large gloved hand reaching up to cradle the affected crown of your head. “Aisch,” he hisses. “Did that hurt? I am sorry.”

“No, didn’t hurt,” you pant in reassurance, too fevered and flushed to even process pain as you yank him close by the shirt. He moves with you, fluidly yanking up his hood to allow you access to the sharp line of his jaw and eager, plush lips in wait. Just enough to kiss. His lips crash against yours, and a gentle, satisfied rumble vibrates throughout your exchange. You pant against his lips—damn, could he kiss. For a man that never shows his mouth, König knows very well what to do with it.

He tugs at your shirt, a subtle request for you to pull it off. You do, and it lands somewhere you couldn't care less about. "There she is," König hums appreciatively, his hood falling back into place as you both race to shed clothing, letting the articles fall into pathetic piles by the door. At the very least, you won't have much issue finding your panties in the morning. "You're a pretty thing, spatz. Let me undress you?"

You nod quickly, allowing König's deft fingers to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, his hands—pale, scarred, now ungloved—caressing and squeezing the flesh hidden behind it. "So cute," König chuckles, running a thumb over your nipple. Unable to hold back a squeak, you glance away, eyes finding his bed.

A king size. Fitting. And oh-so comfortable to lay back on when his hands clasp around your waist, lifting you and setting you down on the mattress. Akin to a prowling tiger, König's hands press down over on both sides of your lap as he crawls closer, hovering atop your body.

"It is not prohibited," König murmurs, leaving gentle, nipping kisses at your neck, "for us to share a bed. But for your sake, and mine, let us not speak of this to others."

The request would rub you the wrong way, if you didn't feel equally as concerned about your own reputation. "Ashamed of me, sir?" You joke anyway, if only to soothe the small dash in your pride.

"Shame?" König laughs, familiar sharpness returning to his glinting blue eyes. "Ashamed, she says. Shame does not land you in my bed, spatz. Do not think so little of yourself, or of me."

Right. König is a cocky bastard, as much as he is quiet. You blush, which only serves to draw out a bemused click of the tongue from your paramour. He swipes a curled finger up your cheek, slowly caressing the soft skin there. "Sweet thing, won't you let me taste you?"

And how could you say no to that?

***

Fuck, if you thought he was good at kissing, König proves himself to be an entirely different beast down below. Both of his hands grip your thighs, pushing them up and apart as he goes down on you, his mask pooled just below your navel, and the only visible aspect of his face being those eyes—piercing, captivating eyes that command your gaze. Who know the quiet giant knew how to please a woman so well?

"Hah—nhh! K-König—" You gasp, helplessly squirming in place as his tongue flattens against your clit, passionate and embarrassingly lewd slurping sounds filling the room as he makes love to your cunt. "Fuck, I'm—I—ah!" All you can picture through the sparks behind your eyelids is his tongue, covering the entirety of your slit as he delves deep and suckles on the sensitive bud there. You squeal, legs involuntarily kicking, and he has the audacity to chuckle against your soaked pussy.

Still, König is far too preoccupied with pleasing you and enjoying those pretty sounds of yours to even tease you for your noises. Another slurp—and you finally cry out your orgasm, trembling as sweet nectar gushes out of you, thick on his tongue. König, the pervert, is all too happy to lap up what you have to give him like it's his goddamn dessert. "It seems you liked it," he grunts, as if he hadn't just taken you to kingdom come and back with the sole use of his tongue. "Gut. I am...not of average size. You will need to be wet and relaxed for this part to be comfortable."

He might've given you a mind-blowing orgasm, but you're not the merciful type when a man's annoyed the crap out of you, regardless of his sexual prowess. The joke's all set up for you—you can't help yourself. "Aw, don't worry, sir," you grin, adjusting your body to lay on your side. "You know what they say. The small ones find ways to make up for what they lack in size."

It earns you a smart smack on the rear, eliciting a mortifying gasp of surprise. "The little one likes to provoke. You will regret that," he points, mirth creasing at the corner of his eyes. König, for a man of his formidable size, is swift in his pounce as he climbs up onto the bed to hover over you. "Come here, sweet spatz."

You obey, laying back in earnest as he spreads your thighs once more and tugs your hips up, leaving enough room to slide a pillow under. "Is it comfortable?" König asks, to which you nod eagerly. "Gut."

A finger slips into your throbbing wetness—fuck, he's not average by any means at all—and then another joins it. It's all agonizingly slow, and yet delicious beyond words. Beyond sounds, even—or not, as you shudder involuntarily, noisily, when he sinks in a third to the knuckle. And of course, the man laughs.

"Do you think this is small?" He asks, leaning down, his hood tickling your chest. You weakly shake your head. "Ah, then I am not sure how well you will fare with me inside you. But we shall see, spatz, eh? You are a strong woman."

So he says. But when the flared tip of his condom-sheathed cock nudges at your slit, teasingly gathering the rivulets of slick there, you tense. "Sh-Shit," you whimper. "Go easy on me, sir?" "Easy, no," He mutters. "But I will not hurt you. You may punch me if I do."

"I'd—I'd rather have a word to say."

"Then, say cherry. If that is to your liking?"

You snort softly, gazing up at the man and his mirthful eyes of blue. "You like cherries?"

He nods happily, as if discussing over tea or coffee. "My favorite fruit. It's splendid in cake." König adjusts your hips, fitting them comfortably against his own. "Now, let us fill up this pretty little thing down here..."

Without further warning, his cock nudges past your labia, parting your folds and sliding—more like squeezing—in. You hiss in shock and slight discomfort before it eventually gives way to a sweet, warm ache in your core. "Agh—" König groans, the gruff sound pooling heat in your belly as he hunches over you, massive torso almost completely covering yours. "Are you—ngh—not hurt?"

"No," you breathe, chest rising and falling as he nudges deeper, deeper, until he's certainly at least halfway into you, if not more. God, he's thick, too thick to take easily. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's just under a soda can in girth. "Fuck, I shouldn't have called you—mgh!—small!"

"No, you shouldn't have," König agrees through an aggravatingly husky chuckle. "Consider it a—hgh—punishment, spatz."

"Sh-Shut up."

"Is that any way to talk to a superior?"

You make a noise intended to be a growl, which comes out sounding more like a whine than anything particularly threatening. "I'm talking to the man who calls himself king. I'm not trying to further inflate your giant ego."

König's hands find your waist, oh fuck, he's in, all the way in, and you've never felt fuller in your life. A cry of surprise leaves you just as he bends over to whisper in your ear. "So you know some German." Then, in a high pitched voice to match your cry as he ruts into you once, he mocks, "Ach, König, was hast du für einen große Schwanz!" Another rut, deeper into you, and he deepens his voice to a comical baritone. "Umso besser, dich zu ficken!"

Fuck, that was a stupid joke. You smack his shoulder, cackling and heavily gasping as he gathers speed with his hips. "Fuck you, that was—agh!" König's thrusts pick up in speed, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he pitches his hips up into yours. Like a feral dog, he pants, clawing at the sheets beside your head.

"Mmgh....sweet spatz, you choke me. Oh, Scheiße—" His hips stutter, long strokes ramming into you, one after another as you arch into his touch. "I'm going to come, spatz. So gut, meine Süße—!" König trembles above you, groaning as he finishes off with one hard thrust and stills, filling his condom with seed.

You whine when he finally pulls out, his monster of a cock softening, condom slipping off for him to tie up and trash. You're allowed just a moment's respite before the insatiable man before you thinks it high time to dive back down face-first between your thighs for more.

"König!" You squeak, sitting up to tell him that there's no need for you to come twice, but your protests fall on deaf ears. He's a man too far gone, with too big an appetite to be told "No."

Request Archive

[charmedreincarnation]

Random shower thought and I know this has already been said many times, but your desires are seriously already here. To the hundreds of asks, asking the same thing.

“If we can manifest anything immediately why am I waiting”

“where are my desires, I have tried everything”

“I have done everything right, why do I still fail.”

The other day, like any other day, I ordered a bunch of stuff online because I love online shopping and I always use the sped-up deliveries because I hate waiting. Whether it's manifesting or anything else in life, I am very impatient unless I forget about said action.

Anyways, there was a specific package that had to take more than a couple of days even with the fastest delivery option because it was from another country but I was so excited about it. Like most things in life, I forgot after like the second day because of my atrocious memory but yesterday I was like wait, I ordered this thing a week ago where is it, it should be here by now???

My mom didn’t tell me I had any packages and she usually picks them up because my brother and I get some every day. And I asked everyone and they said nope, nothing. I checked my email and it said it had been delivered days ago… I was so annoyed because I was like wow now I need to reorder it and get a refund. But before I started the process of that I was like idk.. I never deal with stuff after the law I tend to be very lucky, I rarely face little inconveniences like this so I did the logical thing and checked in my mailbox and of course voila, it was there and so was a week worth of packages that no one had been checking (my mailbox is very large and my parents have all their bills on auto pay so they rarely have to check the mail either) but usually packages are just left on our doorstep so I don’t usually check there. 😭😭😭

Anyways, like my package, a lot of the time it’s already there, maybe you can’t find it but you know it’s there like I knew my package was going to be in the mailbox you just have to know your desires are there or are on their way, like you can’t fail if you ordered it if you put the intention and know your desire will come like I ordered my packages, it will come. No but when, if, why. And once you know it’s coming there may be a wait period or whatever but you know it’s coming. So take a deep breath, calm down, your mind has misplaced your guaranteed success but you cannot fail. If it didn’t come ok refund and reorder, revise. That’s all there is to it.

Like Neville Goddard's said: you cannot fail unless you fail to convince yourself of the reality of your wish !!!This is a reminder of who we really are and the power we hold within ourselves. Just as I was sure my package was on its way, we should also be certain that our desires are on their way.

[dilf-lover99]

And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first. 

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips. 

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you? 

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.” 

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.” 

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly. 

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you. 

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’. 

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!” 

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know. 

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin. 

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to. 

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”