#No one wants to indulge me when it comes to chess and I don't like playing online

[fragmentedblade]

I've been reading about xiangqi a bit and now I'm even more obsessed with that one video of Jing Yuan

[velvetm00light]

Temper Tantrums

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n has finally entered the dating scene after refusing to even look at another guy romantically in years. As she gossips with her coworkers at the BAU about her date, Spencer sees red. As the tension grows between Spencer and Y/n, she's finally fed up and confronts him.

Warnings: Cursing, coworkers, mutual pining, immature behavior, name calling.

A/N: Actually kind of proud of this one, I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I hope you will :))

Y/N CAN FEEL THE jet humming beneath her boots, the hand she's rested her chin upon vibrating her skull so intensely she begins to wonder if she could get the adult equivalent of shaken baby syndrome from it.

Emily is settled in the seat next to her, immersed in a game of chess with Spencer on the opposite side of the chessboard. JJ sits across from y/n, and the both of them can't help but watch intently as pieces are moved and soft curses are exchanged. "I'm getting anxious just watching this," y/n whispers to JJ. JJ nods her wide-eyed approval, never moving her gaze from the restless hands attached to their coworkers.

As the intense game of chess seems to last for an eternity, JJ finally tears her gaze away from the game and speaks to the rest of the team, "I know I'm ready for drinks when we get back."

"As long as Rossi's buying, I'm in," Morgan chirps.

"I guess I'm buying," Rossi's playfully rolls his eyes, the smile tugging at his lips ratting out his amusement. If no one had mentioned getting drinks after departing the jet, Rossi would've offered to buy rounds just to get the team to go with him.

"Did I hear Rossi's buying?" Emily asks, her head finally rising from the chessboard for the first time since her and Spencer began playing games ago.

"Are you coming?" JJ asks y/n, her lips forming a pout.

"I can't, I have..plans," y/n smiles apologetically.

"Who could be more important than us?" Emily asks, her jaw slack, as if completely taken aback by her sudden plans and the fact that she hangs out with people other than them.

"If you must know, I'm going on a date."

Spencer's head snaps up from the game, his gaze burning a hole into y/n as she smiles shyly and wrings her hands in her lap.

"A date?" JJ gasps, "With who? Oh my god, you have to tell us everything!"

"I don't want to jinx it. This is the first date anyway, he could be a complete weirdo."

"Please tell us how it goes after!"

"I will."

"Oh my god, this is so exciting, y/n!" Emily exclaims.

"It's about time you got back out there," JJ agrees.

"It's just a date, guys. No need to get your panties in a twist just yet. This job isn't for the weak, especially when it comes to dating."

"Oh, we know." They both dramatically sigh.

Spencer has not ceased gawking at y/n since she announced she was going on a date, the game of chess before him completely forgotten. He only tears his eyes away from her when she looks towards him, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

"Have so much fun and be safe..."

"Believe me, I'm not that type of girl, don't look at me like my mother would," y/n laughs. The girls laugh along with her but the tension in the air is palpable to the rest of the occupants on the jet.

Luckily for the rest of the team, the jet lands with perfect timing. The girls send y/n off on her date, explaining to her over and over again about using protection, red flags to look out for on the first date, and a million other tidbits of information they felt necessary to indulge her in before she could be on her way.

Spencer is the last to leave the plane, purposely packing up his chess pieces and board slowly. When he finally steps onto the tarmac, he can't stop himself from searching for her. There's an ache in his heart as his gaze bores into the back of her head as she walks quickly to her car in the carpark, her steps light and excited.

He doesn't allow himself to wish that she was rushing to go on a date with him, instead.

Y/n pushes through the glass doors to the BAU bullpen with a smile plastered across her face. She plops down in her brown, leathery swivel chair at her desk which, unfortunately for Spencer at this moment, is directly across from his.

He watches her intently as she settles in her chair, placing her bag underneath her desk and getting comfortable enough to go over some case files. She barely even gets to open a file before JJ and Emily are rushing up to her desk. JJ sits herself on the side of y/n's desk and Emily pulls up an empty chair.

Spencer's grip on his pen turns his knuckles white, his pen almost ripping through his paper. He keeps his head down, attempting to seem uninterested in the conversation he knows they're about to have.

"How did it go?" JJ asks impatiently, resting her head in her hands, leaning closer as if that'll get the information out of y/n any faster.

"It was actually..really good. He was sweet."

"Aw, good! You totally deserve someone who's sweet. You don't strike me as the type to swoon over the bad boy."

Y/n chuckles, agreeing wholeheartedly. In theory, the bad guy seems nice, he's protective, he'll murder anyone who touches his girl, and danger is thrilling. But, y/n has known that she's too independent to deal with a guy's possessiveness and it would just piss her off. Plus, sometimes the guys who look like they wouldn't hurt a fly but would actually would murder someone just for looking at his girl wrong...even hotter.

"There's nothing better than a secretly protective man. The bad boy exterior is kind of..embarrassing," y/n whispers. The women's eyes simultaneously land on Morgan, walking down the stairs to his own desk.

Morgan pauses as he notices the stare of the 3 women in the bullpen. "What?"

All he gets is giggles as a response as they turn back to their conversation. "To be fair, the mysterious persona fits him," Emily says matter-of-factly.

JJ and y/n nod in agreement and continue to whisper to each other about y/n's date the previous night. Unable to listen to anymore explicit details, Spencer abruptly rises from his chair and storms into the kitchen to gather and distract himself from the rising rage coursing through his blood.

He rummages through the public cupboards, keeping himself busy enough to miss out on the rest of that stupid conversation. "Spence?" A soft voice calls out. He whips around, almost jumping out of his skin entirely. His temper already worn thin at all the thoughts jumbled in his head, the leash on himself becomes completely taut seeing y/n standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

"What?" Spencer snaps.

"I-I was just seeing if you were okay," she says softly. Spencer mentally chastises himself. He hates that he's taking his anger out on her when she's done nothing wrong. He's the one who's ignored and shoved down his feelings for her since he began to feel those butterflies in his stomach when she spoke to him.

"Thank you for checking up on me, but I'm fine," he deadpans. He makes no move to move out the door past her in fear he'll accidentally brush up against her skin and his restraint will snap completely.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine."

"I can tell you're not, I wouldn't be a very good profiler if I believed you. But I'm not going to push you. I just hope you're okay. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," he grumbles. He turns his back on her, continuing to go through the cabinet in hopes she leaves. His immaturity made him lose his appetite, and when he peaks over his shoulder towards the doorway, he isn't sure why his heart aches to see it empty.

Several days pass by and y/n's irritation is full to the brim. Spencer avoids her at all costs - sitting on the opposite side of the jet on the way to their newest case, if the only seats open in the conference room are directly next to her, he stands on the opposite side of the room, and ignoring any and all questions, comments, or concerns she has tried to communicate to him.

The tension between them becomes a wire stretched to it's breaking point, threatening to snap if they're not careful. The hostility that seems to be growing between them is not missed by their coworkers.

Morgan and y/n are camped out in a dark unmarked car provided to them by the local police enforcement. They were assigned to keep watch at the unsub's preferred dumpsite to see if he returns to revisit his victims like he'd done previously.

She wonders if Hotch purposely stuck her on boring duty to try to relieve the strain in the air - she wouldn't doubt it. She's honestly feels grateful for a moments reprieve. Well, she was grateful, but that was until Morgan opened his mouth.

"What's going on between you and Reid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You honestly can't think I'm stupid. I feel like I have allergies because the air around you guys is so damn suffocatingly...angry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about Derek."

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's completely fine. I'm just worried about you, kid."

She sighs and rests her head back on the head rest. She allows herself a moment to regain her composure - her coworkers shouldn't be punished because of Spencer's childish behavior.

"Thank you, Derek. I appreciate you. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay, I get it. The kid's been weird this entire case."

"Tell me about it."

"Is there a specific reason?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Fair enough, I guess."

Morgan shrugs and returns his attention back on the wooded forest in front of them. Y/n's mind chases itself in circles as she considers asking Morgan about it but she isn't sure if it would even make her feel any better. She racks her brain for an actual reason to justify the way he's been treating her but she can't. She sighs to herself, internally fighting the struggle between fighting for their friendship, or letting him ruin it.

Y/n keeps her eyes glued to the jet window, resting her head on the plane wall, unconsciously wringing her hands in frustration. "You only do that when you're nervous or angry," Emily whispers over the small table between them. Emily's eyes dart to Spencer, sitting at the tail end of the plane, exactly where y/n assumed he would be like a coward.

Y/n's eyes finally peel themselves away from the darkened night sky and are met with Emily's concerned expression. "Do what?" She asks lowly, too mentally and physically exhausted from tracking down a serial killer and dealing with the temper tantrums of a grown man turned toddler.

"Wring your hands like that."

"Oh," is all she can manage out. She looks down at her moving hands, immediately removing her hands from each other and sitting on them.

"I know you well enough to know that if you wanted to talk about it, you would have already so I won't ask. I just don't like seeing it consume you."

"Thank you, Em. I just-I'm pissed the fuck off."

"Why?"

"Spencer has been throwing tantrums since he stormed away from his desk right before we left for this case. I went to check on him and he snapped at me and completely shut me out, which fine whatever, I don't like to be pushed either. But he's done nothing but avoid me, ignore me, and just flat out pretend I don't exist this entire case and I'm at my breaking point."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"How am I supposed to do that? He couldn't even set his emotions aside for one second to hear my opinion on why the unsub was dumping where he was or why he chose the ritual of displaying them like that."

"Maybe you should just confront him, make him listen to you."

"If I thought it was that easy, I would've done it already."

"Do it after we get off the jet."

"He's going to take forever to make sure I'm half way to my car before he even thinks about exiting this damn jet."

"Just give it a try, you're just making excuses now, y/n. I'll give a heads up to the rest of the team to avoid the crossfire."

"Thank you, Em. I appreciate you," y/n sighs. She runs through the conversation in her head over and over, deconstructing and reconstructing her opening statement and the evidence she plans on bringing up to prove her point. She's sure as hell not going to deal with this for any longer and she's not going to let someone she thought was her friend drive her away from the job she loves and the people she cares about most.

The door to the jet whirs open and the rest of the team hauls out of the jet quickly. Y/n takes her time getting up from her seat, her heart beating rapidly as she takes the stairs down to the tarmac one by one. She decides to stand out of sight from his seat on the jet so she can hopefully catch him by surprise.

After a few minutes of clutching her jacket closed from the piercing wind, Spencer finally drags himself out of the jet. Once his feet hit the tarmac, she falls into step beside him. "We need to talk."

He whirls his head to where she's walking casually beside him, her gaze fixed on the expanding airstrip ahead. "There's nothing to talk about," Spencer retorts.

"You might not have anything to say, but that's fine. That means you can just listen to what I have to say," she demands, catching his arm, spinning him to face her. Fury is written all over her face and Spencer's heart starts to beat faster. He knows he deserves every ounce of fury and venom she's about to spit at him.

"Why are you acting like such a child towards me? You've done nothing but ignore, avoid, and act like I'm not even a person to you, let alone your friend, like I thought we were. I don't deserve to be treated the way you've been treating me, Spencer."

"I know you don't and I'm sorry. But that's why I've been angry."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to just be your friend. It's eating me from the inside out to continue to just be friends and hear you talk about this new guy and knowing that I'd never be man enough to tell you that I'm tired of just being friends but I never want to get in the way of your happiness so I just didn't think there was a point in saying anything now."

"What are you saying?"

"That I have loved you from the damn moment you risked your life in the Utah case 2 years ago. In that moment, I knew that losing you would tear my entire world apart."

"You absolutely fucking idiot!" Y/n cries out. Before Spencer can react, y/n takes him by the collar of his sweater and crashes her lips onto his with fiery passion. Their tongues dance in tandem together. They're both breathless and panting when they rise from their kiss, y/n's hand still gripped on his sweater. "I love you, too, you fucking bonehead."

[lxvebun]

Heart-shaped kisses. HSR edition ♡

buns notes I am not caught up with the game at all, literally just passed Gepards fight but thats not going to stop me. I hope you enjoy!

content Blade/Dan heng/Gepard/ Jing Yuan x gender neutral reader. Fluff. Kissing of course. Food consumption Gepards and jing yuan is a little long but I will not apologize. I know nothing of chess forgive me i tried to describe everything as vague as possible shsjs. Use of nickname love. Eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes. Not completely proofread

D c and ed blogs do not interact or your fave will never come home<3

All heart shaped kisses fics♡

⁎⁺˳✧༚Blade໒꒱.*

Every sweet touch of your lips to his feels like stars are awakening within his veins, Igniting a burning, irresistible hunger, a desire, to hold you closer and selfishly steal another sweet kiss, and then another, and then just one more<3, With no doubt in his heart, you are the closest thing to paradise he will ever experience in his lifetime, and he's going to indulge in it for as long as you're willing to stay.

Maybe you're the reason he's still here, to soften the sharp edges of his blade.

⁎⁺˳✧༚Dan Heng໒꒱.*

Kisses with Dan Heng always happen in private, under warm candlelight, and with only the stars as a witness. He completely melts into you, the weight on his shoulders disappearing just for a moment as his senses are completely enveloped by you, and the sweetness of your kisses and the warmth radiating from your skin from where his hands are resting on your cheeks, rubbing heart shapes into your skin and tilting your head just right to meet his lips. With your hearts beating in sync, he knows he has found his forever home<3

Gepard and jing yuan under the cut!

⁎⁺˳✧༚Gepard໒꒱.*

It's not until a few months into your relationship that you have your first proper kiss with him, not counting the ones you sneakily press to his cheek when he's distracted before scattering off or the soft forehead kisses he gives you in the early morning when you're still warmly tucked into bed and he (with pain in his heart) has to leave early >:(

''I want our first kiss to be special,'' he says quietly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as a nervous habit, trying his best to soothe the blush trailing its way to his cheeks. "If you don't mind" (He is so ficking cute I canfbehwhs) Of course you wouldn't mind it!

Every day his love and adoration for you blooms stronger, like vines in your name are wrapped around his heart and soul, evergrowing and ever consuming leaving no empty space. And this is exactly what he told you (after a little push from Serval) , under soft candlelight over the surprise dinner he prepared for you. Unlike a proper seating arrangement, you both sat next to each other on the same side of the table, enjoying the closeness of it all.

He's acting a little odd, a little nervous, it's hard to read but you can tell. It's not until after dessert that you figure out why his hands are shaking slightly and his eyes keep drifting off to your lips

''Permission to lean in? '' he whispers, lips hovering over yours and you're not quite sure if it's your heart that you hear beating so loudly or his.

''Permission granted. '' you reply back with a smile

His kisses are surprisingly strong, and any nervousness from the moments before completely vanishes as he eagerly leans in with enough power behind it to slightly make you lean back, one hand coming up to caress the back of your neck and the other one still holding yours. Strong as his kisses are they are nonteless loving and breathtaking, he's leaning into you like you're his personal source of oxygen. It's all a very cute contrast to when you both pull away and he's looking off to the side saying "I hope that was good" You answer him with another kiss<3

⁎⁺˳✧༚Jing Yuan໒꒱.*

You're not sure why you keep agreeing to this. Your mind is running through every possible outcome and he still manages to beat you. The pri-

"Oh, come on, love" You ignore the fluttering of your heart at the nickname. It seems like the little mental battle that was going on was evident on your face. Sitting before you across the chessboard, failing to hide his smirk behind his hands sits Jing Yuan, your biggest enemy, the bane of your existence, the secret crush and love of your life. " I promise I'm not stealing any pieces this time, you almost have me"

The little sparrow on your shoulders is trying its best to comfort you, rubbing his little head against your cheek and chirping so sweetly, that it's enough to make you willing to keep playing and move another one of your pieces.

Jing Yuan sends you a soft smile before his eyes trail down to study the board. You don't play with a time limit, so he's taking his time to calculate his next move. He didn't lie, you are very close to winning. And finally, you see that too, but you also see how there is an opening for jing yuan to get the upper hand again. You are trying your hardest not to roll your eyes at it, If only you could distract him, intervene with the on going calculation in his mind

Just as he picks up the exact piece you were fearing you quickly blurt out. " I want you to kiss me"

His movements slow and you can hear his breath hitch, his brain trying to catch up with your words and it's enough to make him misplace his piece. He look at you again, as you quickly move your pieces, winning the game. The sparrow on your shoulder fluttering around you in joy and the beautiful melody of your laugh echoing around him.

I win" you say proudly, too occupied with reveling in your victory, you don't hear him get up and move over next to you. close enough to feel his warmth, far enough to get up if you want. It's not until the sparrow that once sat on your shoulder flies past you to sit on his knee that you snap out of your victory haze

"jing yuan?"

"it's quite rude to say things you don't mean, love"

maybe it is the buzz of winning lingering and boosting your confidence because you have no clue where your next words come from

"who says I didn't mean it?"

with a small chuckle escaping his lips and a gentle smile on his face, he sends you one last nod, silently asking for permission, just to be sure, and quickly after receiving a nod back as confirmation, cupping your chin in his hands, thumb trailing along your jawline, pressing a feathery kiss to it and then locking your lips with his.

you let him take the lead, the one time you're fine with losing. The kiss is gentle and intoxicating, enough to make your head fog up with hearts and flowers and spread a delicious warmth all over your body. it takes a while for both of you to open your eyes after pulling away. it's Jing Yuan who breaks the silence. In a slightly flustered state he asks

"are you up for another round?"

"another kiss or another game?"

"whichever you prefer the most"

[cosmicvenusnebula]

⋆☾⋆ Meme post ⋆☾⋆

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Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x Gn!Reader

Au: Canon Universe

Description: Random scenarios with the demon bro's, most of them revolve around gaming.

Contents: Fluff, Cussing, Silly Anger and Angst, Silly Writings,

Word Count: 940 words

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♥ Lucifer ♥

"No. Absolutely not."

"Come on Lucifer pleaseeeee! Just this once!" You beg, trying to convince the eldest brother to indulge in your interests for once.

"I have better things to do than play video games" Lucifer says with venom, what would Diavolo think if he slacked off to play games with some human?? Lucifer couldn't risk it, so he continued to go through the stacks of paperwork on his large desk.

"Afraid you would lose old man? Too pussy to play against a human?" You knew you were playing with fire by insulting him, even playfully, because if Mammon had said that he would be tied upside down, hanging from a chandelier somewhere in the house of lamentation.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?!" ... Uh-oh. "You've got some nerve, I just hope that nerve is brave enough to groom Cerberus after you lose." Lucifer stands up from his desk, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the common room where the shared gaming console is.

♥ Mammon ♥

"Huh?! You think you can beat the Great and Powerful Mammon at gambling?? HAHAHA ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??" The demon of greed almost keels over from laughter, slapping his knee at the joke he thinks your making.

"Yes, I am completely and utterly serious. How about this, winner not only gets all the money, but also the title of Devildoms best gambler, and loser has to slap Lucifer in the face." You smirk, knowing Mammon will do anything to win as the embodiment of greed, he wins at everything when money is involved. However, you have a trick up your sleeve.

You talk the rest of the brothers into playing poker with you and Mammon, except for the eldest. They are all willing to cheat and help you with your little trick just to see the chaos unfold when he has to slap Lucifer.

The whole game, everyone gets amazing cards, everyone except for Mammon. Unfortunately for him, you use your pact to force him into placing down his cards every time, losing more and more money until he eventually loses the game, and all the brothers immediatly forfeit after that, leaving you as the technical winner.

~ ~ ~ Not long later ~ ~ ~

"MAMMONNNNN COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT, I'M GONNA TEAR YOU APART AND FEED YOU TO BEEL"

♥ Leviathan ♥

You just got a brand new video game, one that is only available in the human world, but due to Diavolo favoring you, he found a way to get it in Devildom stores for limited time.

"How....how did such a normie get this game down here!"

"I asked Diavolo...."

"And he agreed? He went through that much trouble to give a normie some random video game? OMG Lollllolollol! *random video game ramble*"

"Just put the damn game in and turn on two controllers."

♥ Satan ♥

"She's mine Lucifer!" Satan yells, dragging you out of Lucifers office. "W-We were just playing Chess, what the hell are mad about?"

"I'm mad that you are alone with a man like Lucifer. I don't want him rubbing off on you."

Satan drags me away from Lucifers room, dragging you like he is holding you hostage. He takes you back to your room, securing you on his lap as you watch documentaries.

"You didn't have to drag me away from your brother. I get you hate him, but my god- "

"It's just...we are so similar I don't want to see you fall for him instead."

♥ Asmodeus ♥

"Really~? You wanna play with me~? I guess it was only a matter of time before you fell for my charm~"

"A-Asmo....I meant the succubus rpg game-"

"Oh...well thats a lot less fun. Oh well! Lets go play."

Once you go to your room, you get the game up and suddenly Asmo pulls you into his lap. "Uhh? What're you doing?"

"Just getting comfortable. I can't stand being without your touchhh~" You just ignore him as both of you begin to set up your characters.

♥ Beelzebub ♥

"Nonononono!!! Beel that isn't food!" You freak, trying to get the candle out of his hands.

"Huh? But it smells good." Beelzebub pouts at you, and you feel like you've just kicked a puppy.

"Just, put that down darling." I put my hand over his and lower it back down onto the table, making him drop my scented candle. "Lets go get you some cheeseburgers." Beel nods ferociously, mouth already drooling at the thought.

You take him to the 24 hour magic food place in-between the campus housing. Their menu is anything you want, they use magic to conjure up the tastiest version of what you request.

"Feel better?" You ask, smiling softly at his silly nature. "Very much. Thank you Mc." He talks with his mouth full, shoving as many cheeseburgers as he can straight into his stomach.

♥ Belphegor ♥

"Belphiiieee, wake up!" You try to shake the sleepy demon awake, wanting to show him a new game you bought for your Devilswitch.

Suddenly his tail wraps around you and he pulls you into his bed with him, his chest against your back. He rests his head on your shoulder, slightly opening his eyes enough to see your switch. "Mhm, nice. How did you get the money for that?"

"I sweet-talked Leviathan to buy it for me, he wanted it to and it has a co-op option so."

"You could have asked me. I never spend any of the money I get, too tired to ever go out."

"I tried, you wouldn't wake up."

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I hope you guys enjoyed! It's 1am and I just wanted to get a quick debut fic out! This is my first fic on this account :)))

[greyspirehollow]

Vesuvia weekly ; The courtiers' Guilty Pleasures !

Pairing : The courtiers x reader Fandom : The Arcana visual novel Warnings : none. Pure fluff.

Volta :

I like to believe she loves dancing, like ballet, and the opera ; she loves the pretty dresses and the music,, and will secretly try and get some costumes custom tailored for herself, which she'll keep preciously in her closet and put on when she's alone, to admire herself in the mirror and imagine being on stage, amidst the crowd of pretty dancing people and musicians.

I'm pretty sure she would love to be able to fight. Being short comes with a lot of disadvantages,, I'm pretty sure she would like placing a few punches or kicks just right in people sometimes. Maybe she's already asked Vulgora to train her in the past, too.

Loves going to Portia's cottage. Loves Pepi. The flowers. The leaves. It's all so pretty ! And Portia's so nice !

She'll get all flustered and stutter if you ever ask about those secret hobbies of hers, but she'd want to share too, and even get a little frustrated by her conflicting emotions.

Vulgora :

I think they like being calmer and softer when no one's around, and to be treated calmly and with kindness (I'm sure they like being hugged, but you will never for the life of them see them admit it).

They like to play chess with the Countess, even if they loose systematically.

I have a feeling they'd love to go hunting too, with or without a falcon/dogs, or someone else's company.

I think behind their very loud and impulsive facade, they're a rather secretive person, not used to open up about things other than the plainly obvious, and so their little hobbies would be hard to discover unless you look into them a little, or generally get interested in them.

Valdemar :

I think they can play the violin, and some forgotten old instruments. They like how they have to make their finders dance over the instruments to make music.

They're a pretty manual person I think, and can craft little things here and there when they're bored ; pretty sure they tried embroidery even. Very steady hands (heh.)

and fashion. No one can convince me otherwise ; they have a sense of fashion and just don't exploit it. They don't dress often, if ever, or openly comment on people's outfits. but they COULD. IF ONLY THEY DID ARGH-

Secretive person as well. But you'd have no way of discovering any of that if they didn't want you to.

Vlastomil :

Always loved the sound a harp makes. He'd kill to learn how to play it, but he's never dared to take that initiative. It's just such a beautiful instrument, so calming, and it looks really nice to have it lean against you...

I think he'd also enjoy taking walks in the forest, and go lay down in some fresh and humid dirt, listening to the little river nearby, the chirp of birds, the leaves in the wind, the rays of sunlight peeking through...

We know how much he loves his worms, but what if he liked other things as well? what about isopods? tiny lil things.

You may surprise him indulging once or twice, but he'll always stammer a half-made-up excuse and shift the topic of the conversation quickly

Valerius :

Cat person. Loves cats. Wants cats just so he can sit in a big chair and have one on his lap and pet it menacingly while he sips his wine. Will not admit it.

LOVES velvet. Would wear velvet every day of his life if he could ; but he feels it's maybe a little too much in certain scenarios, so avoids it. He does have a cape in the back of his closet, which he wears sometimes when the halls of the Palace are desert.

Actually like to let his hair down ; thinks it gives him a mysterious charm (which yeah, if he styled it a little better), and one time you caught him mindlessly twirling his fingers into his strands.

He's not necessarily secretive, it's just he's learned court etiquette a lot, and so has taken the habit of hiding and bottling his personality down. That part at least.

[aruanimess]

all this talk about hobbies got me thinking... what if Reiner tries to get Armin into chess post-Rumbling in an ill-advised attempt to recreate what he had with Bertolt?

I bet it doesn't work either, and not just because nothing can bring a dead person back. Maybe Armin isn't into it, or, well, he is but not as much (that's the real pickle). He'll play with Reiner to bond with his girlfriend's friend/co-Warrior/proxy-brother, but he's more into checkers himself (or even something with an element of luck like backgammon). So he'll indulge Reiner, but his heart isn't into it.

Reiner is not stupid, he can tell. He feels a little condescended to, but he doesn't want to stop either, doesn't want to cut off even this flimsy, mostly self-deluded connection to Bertolt he feels when he plays with Armin. Especially, the thrill he gets when Annie walks in, takes one look at the chessboard and walks back out, just like she was doing when he and Bert were playing in the barracks, and before that in the camps (with the cracked, faded set they had rescued from the trash, with half the pieces replaced by leaves and nuts and pebbles), and before that in Marley. It makes him feel alive again, even if it's for a moment.

The worst bit, the absolute nightmare of a moment, comes when he shares a story with Armin. He's in the middle of explaining some elaborate strategy to him and he starts relating a tale of one of his and Bertolt's games. He tells Armin of how Bertolt tricked him into overcommitting and then turned the tables on him, taking him completely by surprise and winning the game in one fell swoop, and Armin laughs, then smiles and then says: "Oh, I think I remember that."

They don't play again after that.

A few days later, Jean walks into his room, carrying a chessboard underarm.

"I can't believe you asked Armin to play with you, when I'm clearly the superior choice," he says as he sits down.

They set the board.

[writers-wrongs]

Could you write yandere headcanons for Arkham Riddler x male reader? If you don't do Arkham then BTAS?

sure thing! so far ive only played arkham knight (didnt realize it was the last installment til i was halfway through the plot) so thatll be where im drawing from

yandere!arkham!riddler x male!reader

-now, eddie is 100% bi (fight me), so hes not surprised when hes into a guy

-he is, however, surprised that hes actually romantically interested in someone enough to keep an eye on him as he navigates gotham

-this man... is interesting? and intelligent? that cant be possible, everyone but edward is a dribbling moron!

-but here you are, solving a few of the riddles hes placed around the city. he cant let you take the trophies, theyre for batman, but now hes certainly paying attention

-a few months after he first notices you, youre just go about your day when you notice a neon green question mark down an alley. another one of those trophies! might as well solve the puzzle, even if you dont get to keep it

-you solve the puzzle and go to try and grab the trophy, not expecting anything but a slight shock, but youre instead knocked to the ground from the voltage

-you wake up in default gothamite mode: tied to a chair in the middle of an empty room. of course, it had to happen eventually. soon, the riddler himself comes in to speak with you

-"good, youre awake. if i had to beat myself in chess again, id go completely insane"

-and he... sits down. sets up a chessboard on the table in front of you, and unties your hands. you play, mostly out of fear, and while you dont win, you get pretty close

-he looks shocked and excited, with a dash of smugness

-"i knew you were the one. second smartest man in gotham- right after me, of course"

-he explains to you that hes not going to kill you, just keep you ("i cant let that mind of yours make direct contact with the idiocy of gotham! your IQ will lower just by being around them!") and that he'll keep that mind of yours sharp

-how does he do this? puzzles. lots and lots of puzzles. hes a bit of a sadist, so the puzzles are mandatory if you want things like food. regardless of how you do, he'll keep you alive, but if you want anything more than the necessities, you better get good with puzzles

-he spends lots of time with you. he says its because youre the only interesting person in gotham, but its mostly because hes an incredibly lonely man. its hard being at the top, so he'll cling to anyone who can even get close to what he sees as his level

-he LOVES learning more about you. not that he didnt research you for months, but he could only gather so much information before kidnapping you. every conversation is like an interrogation

-in terms of affection, hes... interesting. if you earn your dinner, hes programming robots to serve as waiters and dusting off his green suit. i wouldnt call him a romantic, per se, but he certainly thinks of himself as such

-dont expect much in terms of physical affection, he takes a while to get to that point. hes the riddler, after all! hes above the need to cuddle! unless... if you need comfort, he supposes he can indulge you

-if you ever try to escape, he'll be furious. how dare you try and leave! how dare you assume hes dumb enough to not have planned for this! until you apologize, youre getting the bare necessities and no attention

-when you inevitably start to reciprocate, hes smug about it, but secretly ecstatic. he knows hes not the most charming guy around, but he managed to win over the second smartest guy in gotham. and isnt that all he really needs for companionship?

[skycas1noregular]

I saw your post about writing oneshots... Fyozai for sure.

Id really want to see how Fyodor would react to Dazai joke flirting?? feel free to go anywhere with that, honestly. so happy for a fyosiglai truther on here

Now, before an actual oneshot, I gotta say that I personally see Fyodor indulging in it and playing mind games back, but then again, I do think it would make sense for him to be annoyed, so I chose that because... well, I don't know, honestly.

Also: Fyosiglai my beloved!!

Slight Fyolai but it's just mentions of Nikolai fucking around and annoying Fyodor

And heads up/spoilers: I mention Fyodor's ability, to give Dazai space for that special charm he has

♖♘♗♔♕♗♘♖|♜♞♝♚♛♝♞♜

Peaceful day for a coffee of peace. Yet with the coffee, peace didn't come, nor did the receipt.

“There is no need to pay, sir. A young man from Table 7 paid for your coffee. Enjoy!”

One look to the left, and suddenly, the atmosphere changed from peaceful to anything but. Dazai was grinning right his way, with his cheek resting in his palm.

“I am fully capable of paying for my own coffee,” a simple and dismissive remark to let another know that this gesture wasn’t needed and most certainly wasn’t appreciated.

“Not saying you couldn’t, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday in some way,” answered the said another in some love-struck tone that Fyodor would bet would leave a sour taste in his mouth that even his black coffee couldn’t wash off.

Yeah, it was Fyodor’s birthday. But no, he didn’t need any celebration, especially not from the individual who rarely does anything without some higher motive, “Should have ordered a cake of some kind if you were feeling as generous as you are implying.” Should have left the moment I narrowed my eyebrows, but that will be left unsaid since I won’t be letting you know your presence can ruin my day.

“Oh, that I will leave to Nikolai,” Dazai shrugged, “I’m pretty sure he baked one, perhaps with some sort of a drug in it. I intended on giving you something he couldn’t.”

“I do not need anything from anyone. Birthdays are overrated either way.” Why that was, Fyodor won’t let Dazai know. Perhaps after his 50th, he’d understand how boring it is to celebrate every year. Or perhaps he’ll never understand why Fyodor wasn’t as impressed by his birthday. His ability doesn’t allow him to live more than necessary as Fyodor’s does, after all.

“Don’t want to know what I prepared for my little Demon? What I have to offer?” Dazai raised eyebrows higher with every word he spoke, eventually raising them enough to appear as if offended by Fyodor’s indifference.

“Indulge me. What would that be?” Fyodor sighed. Sure, if Dazai is so desperate to give him something Nikolai can’t, he’d love to see what exactly he is so proud of. Until now, both of them were giving him headaches every time he came in touch with them and both of them acted like fools around him.

In a span of two seconds, Dazai managed to pull a box out of his coat, reminding Fyodor of just how similar a headache Nikolai and he could both bring. However, when taking a quick look at the box, Fyodor noticed it was indeed something Nikolai would never pull out of his overcoat, and that was;

“Chess!”

Without wanting to seem impressed – because, yes, a good play of chess is a good birthday gift, and yes, Dazai is the only one who’s willing to play – he dismissed Dazai’s attempt once more, “I am not a fan of playing on foldable chess boards. They are too thin. And, by the size of the box, I can conclude that chess pieces are too small for my liking.”

Not caring for the single complaint Fyodor just gave, Dazai stood up and walked to his table, “Good thing I’m neither too thin nor too small.”

Gaze followed Dazai as he sat on the chair opposite to his, frown was still present from the moment he noticed Dazai, now was even more expressive, “Have you come here to play chess or fuck with my mind?”

Box was opened, the foldable chess board was put on the table, and gaze was lifted for just a second, a second that was enough for Dazai to flash him a grin and mouth, “Both. Perhaps even fuck with a dot at the end."

The moment Dazai put the black King on Fyodor’s part of the board, Fyodor opened his mouth to complain about not playing with white pieces, but Dazai was faster, “Since you, apparently, love to play with white pawns so much, I’d like to change it up a bit, make you play with dark ones. Out of principle.”

Some would call this phrase a racist joke, but both, Dazai and Fyodor, were aware that this was nothing more than a metaphor. Therefore, Fyodor didn’t want to back off and just continued with the nonsense Dazai had started, “Such humbling statement. A desperate attempt.” Putting yourself into the position of a pawn when you are a King yourself.

“Can’t a man flirt a bit? I’m tired of playing with myself when I could be your Queen on the same side. Of the bed, of course.”

Bottom. Fyodor wished to answer yet found himself shutting that thought up. There is no way in hell he would say such a thing out loud. But nonetheless, eyes narrowed, “You’re insufferable.”

Unfortunately, Dazai got him to indulge and play, yet made questionable moves. Those questionable moves that Fyodor raised eyebrows to lead them to the position they were currently in; pat. There was no way of either of them winning. Fyodor might be a good player, but with another who played just as well, that was an overstatement. They were equal, which would always result in neither of them being better than the other.

“I guess the only proper way out of this is for the both of us to simply give up,” Dazai sighed as if disappointed, despite his trying to get them to this exact point. To mark his words, he took his own King, broke the rules, and glided it to Fyodor’s. “Guess the only thing we have left is to kill ourselves,” he sighed, tipping Fyodor’s King to roll down the board, then dropped his own to do the same, “Together.”

“You have been playing towards pat for the last five minutes. Your excuse for this overly dramatic attempt at romance was not needed,” Fyodor dismissed Dazai’s said attempt, simply standing up and deciding to go about his day as he pleased, to spend another birthday being alone and in peace.

“Oh, c’mon,” a voice behind him whined, “Aren’t you tired? After years and decades, even centuries, you’re still willing to live?”

Fyodor’s whole body froze. Where the hell did Dazai pull that out and how the hell does he know about his ability that let him experience thousands of boring birthdays?

“You’re so boring, you know that?” Dazai yawned, seemingly unfazed by Fyodor being shocked like never before. He heard the chair pulling back, and, in the next moment, felt breath over his ear, “If you ever need your sweet pretty perfect ending, I’m always one call away. I'd make sure to make it as romantic as possible.” Such words were told so smoothly, so easily, and sounded so, so teasingly that Fyodor would have turned around and punched the punchable face of Dazai’s. And yet, out of shock, he stayed frozen in place until he felt breath leaving his ear.

♖♘♗♔♕♗♘♖|♜♞♝♚♛♝♞♜

And radom author note that isn't important: I don't know why the Devil chose this way of reaching out to me, but when I die, I'll complain about it; I broke up with my partner because of their "joke flirting" with others which they said they won't be shutting down. I still enjoyed writing this, thought!

[theragethatisdesire]

quick bright things - teaser 2 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"So quick bright things come to confusion.” - William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream Act I Scene I

MY TOP SECRET WIP HAS A NAME NOW!!! welcome to the world of quick bright things !! here is a little sneaky surprise :) i still don't know when it will be done or even if i should be posting this but i can't stop myself i love you guys i love this eren i never want to shut up about it ANDDDD i think part 1 should be postable soon.....if only you guys knew what i had in store for this uni truly. anyway.....tell me what u think hehehee enjoy<3

teaser 1 here if you missed it

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment, Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.”

-

come hang in my inbox if u have questions or thoughts or literally anything at all hehehehehehe i love you guys!!! enjoy him <3

[horizon-verizon]

Can we discuss how irritating this whole cry of "why you want jaehaera to die, why you want a little girl to die" is, I don't know… it must be because she actually dies? It's canon, it's in the book? I don't know, go complain to George like they already do, he wanted it that way

It wouldn't make any sense to me for her to stay alive in HOTD because everyone knows her ending, everyone knows that the mother of Aegon III's children is Daenaera… so why waste time with that?

and besides, ryan wouldn't show a child throwing himself out of a window, he didn't show jaehaerys' death which is horrible

And then they get mad when one says HotD is not an adaptation but fanfiction. Like, if you want to drastically change the plot so bad, it's no longer a damn adaptation! they clearly want fanfiction and they're getting it; they clearly didn't like F&B for reasons and think that some very obvious themes are not there or are so unimportant was to not have them in an adaptation. so why so pressed other than they only wish for their pro-green nonsense (the very antithesis of F&B and the entire series exploration of how institutional sexism is unnatural and what it looks like and how it ruins most things) to keep going through Jaehaera. Because why hate Daenaera or any other Targ woman aside from Helaena so bad?!

The whole point, as I've said time and time again, is that this war that was supposed to destroy the precedent of female rulership AND autonomy for male leadership ruins everyone, child or not, disabled or not....and especially so for disable female children even when they are of the upper class! You say you care about Jaehaera or respect her...do you when you can't or won't accept that her death and loss comes from the very ideology you mask behind the idea of "culture is culture"?!

And yeah, HotD or any attempted adaptation was going to have original "fill-ins" for what might have happened between characters pre-Dance, but as I've said before, some things are less likely or just plain impossible within the broader lore's logic AND what we do know and can reliably know that the book tells us.

More than anyone else's deaths, Jaehaera's death seems to "matter" more to those people because of their dull victimology ideology, too and really only enjoy fiction where there's a "redemption" or fluffiness and think everyone should only ever consume such stories. Makes them feel morally superior with leverage as social currency over others. With Daenerys it's different because she quite literally in necessary to the themes and plot's direction of ASoIaF that if she were to die a "mad" queen or be killed in lieu of what she represents and does for "smallfolk" and those exploited, it'd undermine what GRRM has already remarked several times about being able to resist destruction of self while wrestling with the nuances of authority and being "legitimate" for having it. As guiltless as Jaehaera was, she is a character with a very specific role, not mean tto be the savior or even progenitor of anything but a victim just as the children r*aped, tortured, and killed during the Dance or after it were under these systems. The real reason why they are so adamant abt her is bc they either/both hate-envy Dany/the "prominent" Targs and Jaehaera is a noble girl who like her mother doesn't stray from her gender-based designation of victim or chess-piece for men, so it's also veyr easy to project oneself into her position of victimness and self indulge that way. They want thatfantasy of accountablitiy-lessness while still being "elite". Very Sansa-stan energy.

You definitely can be sad for her and rightfully blame the adults around her, even the long dead ones while Maegor and Jaehaerys I. But it's not that anyone wants her tortured so much as they want the story that was given to us AND they know why she has to be killed the way she is told to have been.

If you don't like the narrative or refuse to really ingest its true meaning and how it gets there, you're under no obligation to continue to consume it.

[fatuismooches]

I DON'T REMEMBER IF I REPLIED OR NOT BUT HERES A REPLY ANW OMG U BREAK MY HEART SO WELL AAASHHA sorry if I've already said smth so this makes it a double reply ANW dottore angst gets me so hard but I don't hate myself that much so an accompanyinh fluff I'd like to add is like imagine reader is reallyyyy good at chess cus they're established as smart by being in the akademiya and now since you can't rlly do anth all day you challenge the clones to chess often so anw one day dot is just coming as you win a game against one of the clones for the third time in a row and you challenge him to a game and he's so convinced he'll win he deliberates going easy on you and- wait what the fuck why are you so good

also you are quickly becoming my fav creator to interact wit :( 💗

- 🌕

I HAD THE BIGGEST SMILE READING THIS IT'S SO CUTE- I NEED TO WRITE A LIL SOMETHING YOU'RE SO BIG BRAINED...!

Since your illness prevented you from training your body more than you like, you made your best effort to train your mind instead. You deemed your mind as very important, as the loneliness of it all often weighed down on you more than you liked. So you made sure to keep yourself occupied as much as you could, to try and prevent any negative thoughts from creeping up. And well, you found it to be quite rewarding. There was one time when the clones were struggling with an experiment for quite a while and were reluctant to inform Prime. So you asked them to let you take a look at the notes and everything along those lines. Admittedly, it reminded you of when you researched with your lover back at the Akademiya, so you accidentally got too into it, scribbling all of your thoughts and a possible answer to the problems. The clones were rather shocked when you turned out to be right.

But your favorite activity by far was chess. The brain teaser was highly favored by those at the Akademiya, and for good reason too. It was a great way to challenge yourself and get your mind working, and the best part? You could sit down comfortably and only move your hand, and enjoy the rather handsome view of a segment's face laced with confusion.

The clones were almost always happy to indulge your wishes, sometimes even fighting over who got to fulfill them. So after you absentmindedly mentioned wanting to play chess, the next day the game was set up in the lab, ready for use. Needless to say, you were quite elated. You had itched for the chance to play again. And of course, your only opponents were the multitude of your lovely segments.

The segments do love you. It is only natural that their creator’s love for you extends to them as well. So they gladly play along with your little game of chess, but they won’t do it too seriously; after all they wouldn’t want to hurt- wait, how did you already beat him?! For all of their wisdom and knowledge, they are baffled when they are taken out that quickly.

It eventually gets to the point where you have a little group of clones watching you battle another. It’s quite endearing to see them hover over you like that, trying to guess what move you’ll play next. But the true fun comes when Zandik appears. There are times where sometimes you do not see him for a few days, but that’s alright. The time spent afterwards always feels the best, and this is one such time. He is unaware of the little show you’ve been putting on, so you gleefully invite him to play you in a game of chess.

He accepts of course. Admittedly, it had been a while since he played, having only laid eyes on the chessboard in which the Gnoses were pieces. And of course, he has the same mentality as his clones - he’ll go easy on his darling, you’re his after all. He knows his genius is incomparable so- wait… you beat him? Since when did you become so good? You must tell him all the details now, he wants to know your thought process and the strategy’s name and how the other matches went and-

You shut him up with a kiss and invite him for some more chess games in your shared bedroom.

[remyfire]

❛ you can be rough. i can take it. ❜ - Beejleo!

Subtle Smut Starters I love you indulging me. Bless you :D I am a happy puddle rn

BJ says it for a lot of reasons, really. The anticipation that's gnawing at his bones. How Leo has been looking him over for the past ten seconds like he's a twelve-course meal. The twisting somersaults of his gut, more frantic than any gymnast he's ever seen, leaving him hovering in this space between hunger and nausea. There has to be more than the slow, edging tease that Leo likes to take him through, more than the waiting game they'll fall into when they're sitting on opposite sides of the fraternity house's living room while one by one their brothers trail off to bed. He doesn't know how much more he can take of the chess game. If he doesn't get slammed to the ground like a running back, he's gonna explode.

"You can be rough. I can take it."

But the moment the words slip out of BJ's mouth, Leo's eyes snap to his. He can practically hear them click into place. And as a very familiar smirk wanders its way across Leo's face, BJ's heart takes off.

"What do you think rough is?" Leo asks. His tone dances melodically over the words, brushing over BJ's skin like hot coals. "You think 'cuz you were a jock, you know the meaning of the word? Huh? Mr. Varsity-Track-and-Field?"

"C'mon, I'm not a kid," BJ blurts, then immediately regrets it. It doesn't matter that Leo's only a year or two older than BJ. Somehow he can still make him feel like he's twelve instead of a freshly minted eighteen. Leo chuckles, shaking his head, and it drags BJ until he toes the edge of humiliation. He rolls his eyes as he shoves at Leo's chest.

Leo seizes him by the jaw and slams him against the wall.

"Says the guy who can barely grow a fucking beard. Look at that baby face." As Leo turns him this way and that by the chin, BJ falls straight back into the ocean of desperation. The undertow's too strong. He tightens his grip on Leo's hem, seeking some kind of stability so he won't drown. But when Leo pats him firmly on the cheek—hard enough to sting—BJ's knees almost buckle all the same. "So sweet. So naive."

It's not the first time that BJ's felt the entire galaxy hold its breath for a moment, this suffocating ache in his chest. It's not quite anger. It's a prelude to it. An appetizer. As the air crackles inside his ribs, he waits to see if this is the day the frustration finally grabs hold of him and uses his body to put Leo Bardonaro back in his place. He's starting to think neither of them would mind. But just as he's flirting with the idea, Leo thumbs over BJ's bottom lip and leaves the sensitive skin branded by his touch.

"Then again," Leo purrs, "you are the little slut who got hard during your hazing."

God, what comes next? If BJ pushes for more, will Leo deny him? Leo never seems to need BJ as much as BJ needs him. He can shrug off so much of his own desire if it means that he has BJ miserably hard and wanting. "Leo..." His hand scales his slim waist higher and higher until he palms his ribs. "Please."

Leo tilts his head. "Please what?"

He doesn't fucking know. A creature lives in that crackling chasm right beside his heart, something fitful and hungry, and he's not yet learned the language to describe what it needs to be satisfied. He has to pivot instead. "Listen, if you're so sure I can't handle whatever you've got to give me, why don't you prove it?"

"Oh, I never said you couldn't handle it." Like a spider dangling from a silk thread right above its prey, Leo holds himself still, fingers bruising his jaw, thumb resting gently on his lips, a contradiction in terms. But when BJ catches Leo's thumb between his teeth, something breaks through. Sparks burst from Leo's eyes and shower BJ in heat. "Y'know what they say, Beej, college is all about new experiences."

When Leo yanks him by the jaw, his fingers could slip off BJ's skin and leave him free. They could, at least, if BJ didn't immediately yield to the command, if he didn't let himself be pulled in. Too many things happen in rapid succession—he's twisted around, his arm's pinned behind him, he's shoved, his cheek scrapes the wall—and when Leo exhales hotly against his scalp, BJ throws his head back with a weak groan.

"This isn't rough," Leo murmurs raggedly as he wraps his arm around BJ's shoulders. "Not really. But you're gonna scream for me anyway."

BJ's never been physically restrained, never experienced so much as a facsimile of it, but he finds himself grabbing another fistful of Leo's shirt so he remembers not to escape. He wants it, he wants it, wants to know what it's like to be completely under somebody else's control. Shocky breaths pulse out of BJ arrhythmically while Leo gropes him through his trousers. "Fuck... Y-You're not..." There's no response besides how Leo's other fingers pop open two of BJ's shirt buttons, then slither beneath the fabric and along his undershirt until they find the bare skin stretched taut over his collarbone. "You're not gonna hold back forever, are you?"

An almost soundless chuckle tickles his hair. "Oh, pretty boy, I'm gonna ruin you."

As BJ arches into his touch, he wonders not for the first time how Leo became so confident in handling a man like this. It's more than just a fella who learned how to suck somebody off in a fraternity house. He doesn't fumble as he works at BJ's belt, at his button fly, and when BJ instinctively spasms at the smooth slide of those digits easing inside of his briefs, Leo simply tightens the arm around his shoulders and keeps him right where he wants him. They both know BJ is physically stronger but Leo doesn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. And sure, maybe he's bluffing about ruining BJ one day—maybe he's figuring it out as they go along too—but with each passing second, BJ doubts it more and more. Someone taught Leo everything that he knows, and for whatever reason, Leo's just as happy to pass it along.

Leo grabs BJ's cock none too gently and gives it such a sharp tug that the drag of skin on skin singes him. "H-Hey, c'mon," BJ mumbles, wincing, his body seizing up as Leo yanks again, again. "At least lemme spit in your—" A white-hot light explodes inside him as Leo sinks his teeth into BJ's throat. "Fuck!" He's shocked he's not spewing blood from his carotid.

The growl rattles straight through his veins, snatching away his capacity for intelligent thought. There's nothing but Leo, just him and the terrifying rush of pleasure-pain that BJ's fighting somehow to make sense of. It's like... Jesus, it's like a savage muscle strain that tears through the fibers in his thigh with jagged fangs when he's got the finish line in his sights, when he has a rival so hot on his heels that he could spit on BJ. When he thrashes like a mouse caught in a cat's jaws, Leo digs his nails into BJ's shoulder, and as he forms the three stabbing points of the most demented scalene triangle, the first endorphins overtake BJ.

Shit, shit, he can't stop now, can't keep himself from trying to fuck into Leo's fist while he whines. BJ gets his free arm flat against the wall, just something to rest on, but the moment he finds it, he's driven to bite it too, muffling the sounds he never planned to make—barely thought he was capable of producing. Something about Leo's instant sweet hum is like praise to him. Satisfaction. It creates a feedback loop where BJ's cock finally dribbles enough slickness that the handjob melts into a glide, smooth as a dream, this fanfare that's supported by the nails scraping welts over his chest and the line of bruises being drawn down his neck and the copper-flavored warning from the thin skin under BJ's tongue, growing and growing, building and building, never fucking ending, how the fuck do people not know this kind of thing is possible? This cocktail of sugar and spice that's turning his Stanford premed brain into nothing but exclamation points?

When Leo lifts his head and sucks in a deep breath, like he's been holding it, he curves his hand around BJ's throat to hold him still, and the press of his thumb against that first raw hickey loops itself around the weight that just barely restricts his ability to inhale, and it's this— It's more than— It's everything. An asteroid slamming into him. Shockwaves straight into his pelvis.

He doesn't realize he's shouting until Leo muffles him with his palm.

He's so overwhelmed by it all that his orgasm is practically an afterthought. It's like it's not even the ultimate endpoint. And that's terrifying in and of itself, really, because what the hell is supposed to come after the wave of pleasure breaks? BJ's still quivering in the wake of it but unable to move. To speak. Is there more pain? Did he do it right? God, he didn't do anything at all, merely stood here and took it. What if that wasn't the correct response?

He's already on the verge of hyperventilating—zero to sixty in half a second flat—when Leo turns him around, pushes him flat against the wall, and...kisses him.

They don't kiss. Leo kisses whoever his flavor of the month is when she's visiting campus. BJ kisses Peggy, of course, because he can't imagine a world in existence where he would ever want to stop kissing Peg, and especially in these treacherously extended stretches of time where they're long-distance while in college. Kisses are for their potential futures, not the temporary cure for loneliness.

And yet Leo's soft lips are brushing over BJ's all the same, tiny movements that ratchet his tension back down inch by inch until he can barely keep himself on his feet. And he never wants it to end.

"C'mere, c'mere," Leo whispers between smooches, trying to coax BJ toward the lumpy bed.

Even through the fog, BJ can feel his hardness digging into his thigh. He knows what that means. Knows what Leo needs too. But when his barely responsive fingers goof up the effort to undo Leo's belt, the amused click of Leo's tongue between his teeth makes BJ scowl. "Lemme do it."

"That's for later, stupid." A harder yank makes BJ give up his mission, instead trailing after Leo like a puppy. "I gotta check you out first."

"When later?" BJ demands through a slurring tongue.

"When I say so. Christ." Leo drags BJ onto the bed with him. "You're so precious when you're stubborn." He bullies the pillow so he can sit against the wall, then lets BJ collapse bonelessly on his chest.

As much as BJ wants to get his hands on Leo—see this through to the end—he has to admit that his whole body is shimmering anywhere that they're touching. He seems to have full license to nuzzle the soft, fine material of Leo's shirt and paw at it all he wants as long as he lets Leo forcibly tip his head to the side so he can examine BJ's throat, then pull back his neckline and thumb near the welts he left there.

Either seconds or hours later, Leo finally sighs. "All right, you'll live. Didn't break the skin anywhere."

BJ absently puzzles through whether that's a good thing or not. "You could've."

"Oh, I will, Beej. Trust me." Long fingers slide through BJ's hair and fill his head with cotton. "I know you can take it."

Maybe one day, BJ will figure out why those words are somehow sweeter than any adulation he's ever received. But right now they make him grin and bury his face in Leo's neck where nothing exists but Leo and the gentle scratches he's leaving on BJ's scalp.

[rosietrace]

∅ Vic and Zen on Flynn

Nyx on Eiji

Davis on Andrew

Hi Fumi!! I'll only be doing the Vic and Zen part of your ask ^^|| I hope you don't mind!! (Even though I already asked you about it earlier on Discord)

Victoria Shard • Zenith Devi — Thoughts on Flynn Deradelle

Character Featured: Victoria Shard, Zenith Devi

Mentioned: Flynn Deradelle

Warning(s): Emotional manipulation, illegally obtained information, Zen /j, potentially ooc

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

†•°•══════ஓ๑❃๑ஓ══════•°•†

“He’s…. Interesting.”

“Interesting! Aw, Tori, he's more than that!”

“Hardly. He has his talents, yes, but it puts me off in regards to his gambling..”

“Well, people can have their hobbies~ Aren't you gonna see him next week?”

“.... I have nothing to say on that.”

— Victoria Shard and Zenith Devi

╔══ஓ๑†๑ஓ══╗

Non-verbal Thoughts

╚══ஓ๑†๑ஓ══╝

「 General Thoughts 」

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ Victoria doesn't know what to think of him. Zen thinks Flynn is ‘swell’!

➜ Victoria and Flynn are both hard to read, especially the former, what with her constantly blank cold-hearted stare. Any interaction they have is bound to become a game of who can read the other better.

➜ Zen…. Doesn't think Flynn is all that special. In some ways, yes, Flynn has his charms! But Zen doesn't think much of him.

➜ Flirting is something Flynn indulges in when it comes to Victoria. And at every moment, she rejects his advances. It makes for great entertainment on Zen's end, though!

➜ The only reason Zen seems to think he's more than tolerable is because Flynn's a theater kid, and theater kids make for great entertainment /j

➜ Victoria can at least tolerate Flynn's sense of fashion. She can respect a man/woman who can dress decently enough.

↳ Coordinating outfits becomes a thing for them once they get closer. Zen teases her about it.

➜ Zen tends to sit back and watch as Flynn steals the show. Can't really blame him, you need to get some form of amusement somewhere.

➜ Victoria has a distaste for Flynn's like of gambling. Maybe it has to do with the fact her aunt is a gambler, but it does bring a sour taste in her mouth.

➜ Flynn likes calling Victoria ‘Alexandrite’. As long as it gets him to mind his business, Vic doesn't try to stop him from using that nickname.

↳ Zen thinks that nickname is adorably fitting for his best friend!

➜ Zen wants to know how Flynn would react if Victoria stomped on him with her high heels /j /j

➜ One thing about Flynn that Victoria and Zen can agree on is that he's… Interesting. And they wish to know more.

↳ Never a good thing. When Victoria's ambition is high on something, it'll take an act of God to stop her from satisfying that ambition.

༝ㅤ･ㅤ˚ㅤ。ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ「❃」

「 Interactions 」

❐ …. Honestly, no idea how these three even met 💀

➜ Zen had to fight the urge to snort when he heard Flynn was called ‘the ten-faced devil’. He isn't one to question it, though!

➜ Victoria definitely started overanalyzing everything about Flynn, when they first interacted. She sees everyone around her as a potential threat/ally/tool, and Flynn was no different from everyone else.

➜ It basically became a game of…. An incredibly high-quality game of chess between Victoria and Flynn, every time they crossed paths. Always trying to read each other, trying to see what was behind the other's mask.

➜ She isn't going to admit it, but Vic thinks Flynn's dependency on good luck charms is a bit endearing. No one knows this, but she's probably sent him a charm she made for him.

➜ As mentioned before, Flynn's flirting with Victoria tends to be a common occurrence. Unfortunately for Flynn, any chances of her reciprocating his advances are less than 0.

➜ Zen wants to know more about Flynn's unique magic! But he isn't gonna bother asking Flynn to elaborate on it, of course not! That would just be boring!

➜ Victoria's probably seen him fly around NRC to carefully watch her and the other students. She's also probably called him creepy for it.

➜ Zen never tries to get on Flynn's good side. In fact, he wants to see how far he can go until he's on his bad side!!

↳ Zen, honey, I love you…. But no 💀

➜ Victoria is rarely impressed with Flynn. The few times she is are moments Flynn secretly treasures.

†•°•══════ஓ๑❃๑ஓ══════•°•†

[casuallivi]

I got you good in the beginning, huh?!

Elain is climbing up the walls!!! Honestly, I can't tell who's directing more heart eyes at Az, Elain or her kitty... My girl enjoys the deed, and going from self-pleasure to the prospect of having an entire Azriel at her disposal??? Well, that does things to her lady-bits and her naughty cells.

TMI TIME: Yep, her last boyfriend was Graysen, the ass! They had good bedroom chemistry, but you know those men who put their woman down to feel good? Who tell you, you look ugly in certain clothes? that no one will ever want you but him? tells you to loose weight and fix things about your appearance all.the.freaking.time? who slut shames you in front of his friend? Then you want to break up, and they beg on their knees for you to stay, promising you roses and diamonds and changes? apologizing through post-argument-sex? Well, that was her last relationship. Az and Lainey are coming from relationship where sex was used as a weapon. Elain had time to process and heal, therefore she feels more prepared to get back in the sheets, hence the out of control fantasies. Poor Az is still fresh from his terrible manipulative train wreck, all the making out is a huge step for him, who did not expect to feel attracted by another woman so soon (or ever). There's a key moment that got him to notice Elain 😏 then he kept noticing her 😌 his kiss wasn't so out of the blue as Lainey thinks 🤭My boy hasn't enjoyed intimacy in a long time, so he is slowly reconnecting with it. But I fear that her-who-should-not-be-named coming back can disrupt his evolution…

For your questions: Az is more subtle about his prying, she barely notices when he does it 😈😜 Crush-land is composed by so many unnamed and forgettable dudes; a pretty waitress, a well-mannered valley, an educated model, a flirty staff, they come and go, and the only requisite to become one is having a quality she liked in the moment 😂😂😂 I don't have plans to bring Graysen (or the sisters) in the picture, I don't have time to dive into a more complicated plot😅😅 Her current "ex" is Cass, and his, Mor, so every chess piece is already here. At end of the day, they are secondary characters, very meddlesome SC.

PS: 😭🤩💖😍✨💍🎇

this comment made me so so so happy, because everything I wanted was to create a relationship from "hate" to love in a gradual manner. The story technically starts midway through, right? I tell you Elain is a die-hard Cass lover and a die-hard Az hater, but why? What made two man, who have the same DNA, so different in her eyes? Now you have me, hacking my brain to show you why she fell for Cass, not for Az, while simultaneously showing the gradual changes in their dynamics, the ways elriel are warming up to each other, and how this crazy arrangement is helping them to heal from previous shitty relations and unattainable crushes.

It’s a crazy race, but I’m happy with how is turning out 🥺💖😍✨ I reread the chaps last week (because if you don’t indulge in your own writing, who will?) and had so much fun! Having people to gush about it doubles it!!!!

Thnx for the feedback love! You already know about my rambling tendencies, so I won’t even bother pretending to apologize for the big reply. It is what it is 🤣🤣🤣🤣

The Midnight Kiss

Azriel took a hike this chap 😬😬 his inner thoughts were secluded from me😓😓 Fear not, Elain had no problem in blabbing for three two . Enjoy your Elain-fest, i guess… Adopte an author today, and win the privilege of helping to keep the flame alive! See ya 😻😽

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 6: In need of a Scotty to beam her up

Hands roaming each other's bodies in a hurry, a trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom, ragged breaths and frantic steps finding the way towards the bed, two bodies rolling around the sheets, her soft moans and his rough groans matching the “thud, ” of the headboard denting the wallpaper, a symphony of,

“Faster,”

“Harder,”

“Deeper,”

“There. Right there,”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

loud enough to haunt her nosy neighbor for days to come!

Had they been a regular couple, that’s how their third date would be coming to an end; in a steamy encounter between the sheets.

Since they were Azriel and Elain, their third date came to an end with the couple talking in his car, the engine roaring smoothly on the background.

Elain Archeron had been away from the dating scene for five years, yet the rules had not changed much: People expected to get laid by the third date. Sometimes on the first date, or even before having a first date! Bottom line is, go down dirty and hard in the first opportunity you have, put all the chemistry to test to avoid settling down with someone you have no interest in sleeping with. Despite not understanding the appeal of sleeping around, Elain agreed that a couple’s sexual life played a big part in the relationship. She also knew good bedroom chemistry turned into shackles when a guy treated you like shit outside of it. Worst bargain coin ever. Elain had been in one of those relationships before. It took so long for her to see how shitty her last relationship was, and finally break free from it, that once she did, Elain retracted from men all together. Hence the birth of her Crush Land.

Elain’s Crush Land was her happy place, a safe space where she could fantasize about the men she found attractive, without actually having to get involved with them. After all, it was much easier to crush from a distance than to get close and end up disappointed, especially when she had no confidence in maintaining a healthy relationship. In her Land the men were all perfect, flawless, fulfilling all of her expectations without her having to explain a thing. As every good sovereign, she establish ground rules for her Land, two unbreaklabe rules that kept her reign peaceful for years:

1º)This cannot be a one-Crush-land;

2º) The maximum of days a Crush can remain in his throne, is seven days. After that, he's trouble.

With time, Elain grow attached to her delusional lifestyle, content with her fantasies, her Crush Land providing all the male interaction she needed. Until she met Cassian.

Goddamn Cassian Marino, with his massive size and perfect round ass, sauntering into her life flaunting his silky hair and megawatt smiles, destroying everything she worked hard to perfect.  Cass refused to fit into her equation, shattering her one-week-crush mold, frequently appearing in her mind till he was the only guy she could fantasize about. Funny thing is that was her wake up call. Ah, Elain thought sadly, I must be lonely.

Loneliness was a bitch. Especially for someone like her, who had been in relationships more than she had been alone. That’s why her Crush Land was important. No matter how silly it sounded, it helped her to learn to be alone, feel fulfilled by herself, not depend on a partner to give her worth. Elain was worthy. And her ever growing infatuation with Cass was proof that she was ready to get back into the dating world, preferably with him.

Life was also a bitch, slapping her, laughing at her pathetic hopeful plans, rubbing Cass' smoking-hot grilfriend in her face, before she could even have the chance to embarass herself with a confession. Cassian deciding to start when Elain decided to start dating, only to end up dating someone that was not her would be hilarious, had it not happened to her. It did happen to her, and Elain was devastated. But no matter! She would not let that stop her from taking a leep of faith with another guy.

Did she expected for this guy to be Cass' brother? No.

Did she expect for this guy to be her work-nemesis? Also, no.

Did she expect for this guy to be both, and despite the fact she knew that, to accept dating him anyway? Absolutly not!

Sometimes spontaneity made her do crazy things.

Elain would be the first one to admit Azriel's credentials were not looking good. But no matter! Azriel had showed he was interested in moving on too, and Elain was nothing, if not an optimist. She was confident about her abilities to move on, ready to conquer any challange life throw her way! All she needed was a guy who was willing to take her, not tame her, and everything would work out.

That’s how she found herself in boss-turned-boyfriend situation. What Elain and Azriel were doing was different from everything she had ever tried. This time she started dating her boyfriend before even liking him properly, going on dates to get to know each other. And Elain was enjoying this “get to know me” stage, enjoying discovering the little things she would not know simply by working with him.

Despite not having his brother’s easy disposition to accommodate strangers and make everyone feel comfortable with a flash of his white teeth, Azriel wasn’t the cold-hearted tin man she anticipated. As she got to know him, Elain discovered Azriel had no problem in being open and honest about his feelings, his expectations regarding their relationship, his desire to fall in love with her.

Elain was surprised to know he wasn't just interested in moving on, he was interested in her too! Initially, she thought they would help each other get over their exes, gain confidence with the opossite sex, and move on to find actual partners. Azriel nearly blew a fuse when she told him that.

"Let me get this straight. You wanna date me, to date another guy?" "Yeah, we," "No." He stopped her. "You'll date another girl, too," "No." "Let me finish," "No. You are not dating another guy! Are you out of your damn mind?" He interrupted, a vein popping in his forehead. "I warned you, Elain, I warned you I don't do casual. You date me, you are mine, and I do not share what's mine. Fuck no, you'll not date another guy."

Elain thought women's hormones sure worked in mysterious ways, because she had no business finding a domineering man that sexy. So, she changed routes, treating him as a real boyfriend, trying her best to box all his annoying bits to focus in his qualities –a feature she spent the better part of a year believing he did not have. Turned out he did.

It pained her old self to admit this, but Azriel was excellent in his job. He was also beautiful –she was dying to get him in front of her lenses– educated –when he wanted to be– from a good family, with good values, and apparently, extra sexy when he claimed his domain of her. It would be a lie to say a man like that, showing interest in you, didn’t send butterfly into a frenzy in a girl’s belly. Azriel being an attentive boyfriend didn't hurt either.

Even busy, he made sure to text her here and there throughout the the week, matching his free time to hers so they could go on dates. Since their relationship changed from coworkers to lovers, he started watching his tone, policing himself to not lash at her as he usually would – in fact, Azriel was treating the entire team better. Taking did breaths to control his temper while rejecting ideas, reducing the number of times he indiretcly called them stupid during a day, and he had only told her to shut up twice this week – a progress if she ever saw one. It was her fault, honestly. Elain couldn't help it, provoking him was fun.

Plus, bantering didn't end with her wanting to punch his teeth out anymore, now they ended with him cornering her in the empty pantry, his office, the elevator, he parking lot, deseert corridors, Azriel tracking her down to bite the snarkiness out of her lips.

“Jesus, you are such a biter,” she pointed out one day, after a particularly sharp nip. “Learned from you,” he breathed in her mouth.

Guilty. Elain couldn’t get enough of his plushy lips, nibbling and sucking on them till Azriel lost his stark facade, self-control thrown out the window, forgetting they stood in company property to press her on the nearest corner, groaning into her mouth, closing his long finger around her throat, making a mess of her hair. The man seemed obsessed with her hair and her neck. Elain was quickly becoming obsessed with his neck too, tip-toeing to fill it with wet kisses, leaving hickeys at the base, just shy from the collar of his dress shirts, like a little secret hidden in plain sight. It felt good to brand her teeth on his skin. A small punishment for all the times he made he want to punch his face.

At the end of the day, Elain wasn’t in love with Azriel, but she sure liked being his girlfriend. So much so, that when he pulled up in front of her building, she began to stall, coaxing him into conversing a little bit longer, not wanting to part.

Now she sat in his car, asking him endless questions about a subject most girlfriends would avoid like the plague: His ex.

“So you never had a girlfriend? Like, never, ever.” She asked for the third time, stunned with the complex and crazy history of her boyfriend.

Elain knew it wasn’t proper to use their date night to play 21 questions about his ex, but she was a curious person.

“If you want to get technical about it. She didn’t want labels. Had no problems getting the advantages of one, tho.”

His eyes dipped to her leg, which was bare, courtesy of her peach pleated skirt, a question clear in his hazel orbs. Elain allowed silently, watching as he gently ran his knuckles over the longitudinal scar dividing her kneecap in two halves, the line of scar tissue lighter than her skin.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only if it gets too cold. My doc said it’s psychological, I said he isn’t the one feeling the pins burning. I swear to you, my orthopedist is whack, never trust your knee to Edgar Montero from Beacon Hill, never."

"How many pins?"

Elain lifted two fingers. Azriel removed his hand.

"It's fine, most of the time I forget about it."

He reached for his jacket on the back seat, draping it over her legs.

“Thanks,” Elain undid the straps of her sandals, not noticing him adjusting the temperature, and crossed her legs under his jacket, snapping a quick pic of her covered legs, catching the shoes on his carfloor. Then she returned to the subject of her interest. “Oh man, that’s a lot of responsibility, being someone’s first girlfriend. Just so you know, I had a lot of boyfriends, lots of experience.”

Azriel turned on his seat to better face her. “I have a decade of experience.”

She used her hand to make and “0” shape, saying, “stil had zero girlfriends. Were you lonely?"

Elain was. In her last relationship, Elain felt lonely even though she wasn't alone. She never wanted to experience that feeling again.

Azriel merely shrugged. “Work kept me busy enough.”

“Life is more than fashion, Marino. Life is bitter without the sweet frosting of love."

"Let me guess: that's why you fall in love easily."

"touché." She winked at him.

His raven-hair touched the headrest, Azriel closing his eyes. "How many boyfriend are we talking about?" he asked casually.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Mmh."

"Most people prefer not to know about their partners past..." she taunted.

Azriel opened one eye, giving her an incredulous look. "You are so full of shit. You literally spent," he looked at his watch, "one hour and twenty minutes interrogating me."

It was her time to shrug, playing it cool. "I'm confident like that." Bullshit. Freaking curious enough to put George to shame, that's what she was.

"Stop stalling." Damn it, he knew her antics.

"Since you insist. Don't go crying later!" she gave him a last warn, putting a hand on her chest. "Just so you know, I'm extremely loyal. Got my first boyfriend entering high school, dated him till senior year. We broke up, I started dating this other guy in college, we were together till I turned twenty-four – he kind of traumatized me a little, but that's story for another time. Then I met this cute guy on tinder, he was stinky rich, but I think his mom wanted to bone him." Elain grimaced, using air quotes to repeat the nasty words she had to hear. "That lady was not happy to see her 'precious golden boy' with a 'lousy photographer'. I am not lousy. A goddamn amazing photographer, that's wha I am. Dumped his ass and won a contest later that month, thank you very much, mama Vanserra.”

Six months after breaking up with Graysen, Elain got into a bad funk. She missed intimacy, missed sex, and the worst part, she missed Graysen. To avoid crawling back to him, she tried a dating app, finding Lucien Vanserra on the first swipe, who she got involved with for three blissful months. Then his crazy mother started wanting to compete with Elain for her son’s love and affection. The woman acted like her son was her late husband. Yikes.

“And?” Azriel urged to go on, his voice bringing her out of memory lane.

“And what?”

"You said you dated a lot, I'm waiting for the "lot" part."

Elain grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric. "How dare you criticize my lovely love history? You never had a girlfriend. You are like, like – a dating novice!”

Azriel made sure his eye roll was a deliberately slow one, grabbing her chin to bring her closer. “You dated two guys and a half.”

"Why a half?"

"You never dated the third asshole."

“Still dated more than you.”

“Questionable.”

Elain snorted, impressed with his audacity to judge her when he never managed to get a single girl to date him. Before she could tell him to shove it, Azriel ran his thumb across her lower lip. He knew just how to shush her, because Elain went inert instantly. 

“Are you done interrogating me, now?” She nodded. “Or do you wish to reminisce about your harem a little longer?” She shook her head.

There was no need to think about a witty reply. Azriel wasn’t actually interested in an answer, didn’t wait for on either.

He kissed her with all the patient she didn’t have, taking his time in tasting her lips; and there they were without fail, the goddamn fireworks blowing behind her lids like they did every time he touched her. Elain melted into him. His kiss was unhurried, throughtful, lips moving with the same tender assurance of the hand palming the beck of her neck, finger tangling in the waves at her nape, tugging in delicious way that was neither too harsh nor too tight. Perfect. His touch was perfect.

Elain endure the slow tempo the best she could, the kiss lingering like the sweetest of punishments. She let him conduct the pace till she was tingling all over, goosebumps coating her skin, Then she exploded, untamed and unleashed.

Where Azriel was calm, Elain was the storm. She wasted no time with gentleness, sticking her tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, delighting in his small flinch of surprise. Elain throw her arms around his neck like a desperate drowning girl in search of a life jacket to cling to, Azriel shuddering under her embrace, matching her wild pace with no struggle. Elain loved how versatile he was, changing from one type of kiss to another with easy, allowing her to guide him, to coach him as she saw fit. Heavy panting soon filled the air, the peculiar couple getting lost in the erratic kiss. When Azriel released her, his voice was lower than usual, rough on the edges, a black ocean smothering the beautiful hazel of his eyes.

"Is the experienced up to your standards, madam?"

She barely nodded, lipstick smudged all over, eyes glazed with need, searching for his mouth again.

Few were the things capable of turning Elain silent and compliant.

Azriel's kiss was on top of that list.

.

.

.

Elain sidestepped into the conference room carrying four colorful binders, arms feeling like jelly under the heavy weight, huffing from the small walks from the room to her desk. Okay, maybe the material wasn’t that heavy and she was the one out of shape. Christ, she needed to exercise more frequently. Elain could not remember the last time she did some cardio, except for running to the bakery two blocks down from her place. Fine, she needed to exercise, period.

She dropped her cargo on the long table, organizing the variety of fabric swatches, reference data and sponsoring proposals Nuala left in her care, snapping a quick photo of it all. Nuala caught a nasty flu she was trying to nurse before their business trip, leaving Elain, Miguel and Azriel to run their last meeting without her.

Speaking of Azriel…

Elain glanced expectantly at her boss, who was casually leaning against the table, focused solemnly on his tablet, scribbling over the interview draft Miguel presented to him. The assistant writer stood by him, eyes moving furiously from the object to his boss face, fidgeting like a child who waits for parental approval. These days Elain wasn’t much different, constantly rocking on her heels as she waited to snatch his attention.

The reminiscence of daylight seemed to clung to him, highlighting the deep navy of his dress shirt, the color making his profile stand out. The top button was undone, giving her the smallest glimpse of bronzed skin, Elain biting her lip as she remembered what was hidden by his shirt. At the height of his second button laid a little purple bruise, made by her. Elain sighed. How come he was able to stand there, doing nothing but breathe and be serious, and look as good as a seasoned model posing for the camera? Life was unfair. Well, not so unfair since she was the one who got to enjoy this big, sexy, handsome,

“Did your toddler redacted the last questions?” Azriel’s sharp remark interrupted her silent inspection of him. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t have to, directing his piercing stare at Miguel, who scratched his head, saying,

“I don’t have kids.”

“Figured. A toddler knows better than to ask Wang personal questions. Keep it professional, focus in the progress of her career, she’s prone to be volatile if you don’t. Tis last page is useless. Do it again.”

“Yes, boss man. Will do.”

Behind them, Elain rolled her eyes at Azriel for ruining her sweet memories with his unwanted crudeness. Moments like this, she didn't like him one bit. Azriel wasn't lying when he said it was hard for him to connect with people, and once he got hyperfocused in his job that little detail shined light a beacon. The man was in serious need of an interpersonal relationship coach. Learning the difference between constructive criticism and public humiliation would do wonders to his character.

Elain slammed a clipboard on the table, making a grand show of pretending to sneeze three time, just to slip in the words, “quit,” “being,” “a jerk,” in between. She could hear Azriel taking a deep breath before his neck turned like the little girl in the exorcist.

“Excuse me?”

“You should say “bless you, love”, but thanks.”

Elain could swear the lights flickers. "Are you doing that?" Shuddering, she made the sign of the cross.

Azriel scowled harder. “Are you out of your meds again?”

Oh, the nerve of this man. Liked being his girlfriend her ass. Elain gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, ending up looking like a psycho on the loose.   

“Of course not, Marino. I have my medicine right here,” she pinched his cheeks, Miguel sucking his lips inwards to avoid laughing. “How could I look at this face and not feel healthy and energized? Don’t be a jerk, love, scowling gives you winkles, and God did not make me this hot to date a wrinkled old geezer.”

“I’m not old.”

"You are. Age is a state of mind, and yours show in your grumpiness." She tapped his cheek lightly, smoothing the frown from between his brows. "Relax for me," she said, then, a bit quieter, "that sounds awfully sensual doesn't it? Relax for me."

He seemed peeved, but Elain was positive he wanted to laugh. She could see his lips twitching in the corner.

"You know I'm still your boss, right?"

"So you've told me. Now stop scolding the poor boy, I don't his beautiful soul to be crushed by corporate world. You done with the interview, yeah?" she pushed the remaining binders closer to Azriel, explaining their contents. “Nuala asked to pass this along. This one has partnership proposals. She said to email her if you have any doubt, she’ll be glue to her phone in case you need her. This one has secured sponsors. Take a look at these gorgeous Jacobsen settees we can display on set.” She flipped all the way to page twenty-four, showing him a variety of furniture to choose from, watching him overseeing the selection with keen attention.

“They look rigid,” Azriel commented absently.

“You know all about that, don’t you?” See? Easy to provoke. “I’m aiming for uncomfortable. Is part of the first act. Nuala and I were playing with a couple of scenarios, and I did some sketches. My goal is for it to be hard on the edges, unpleasant, transitioning into a more and welcoming atmosphere once her apprentices come into the picture, color bleeding in. They are her missing piece, her equilibrium.”

She located the blue binder, spreading it open in front of her boss, displaying all the confidence and grace that she had mastered dealing with her previous clientele. Anxious brides needed reassurance, and Elain was an expert in gving it, gently guiding them into her vision with steady steps, making sure to accommodate their hidden desires to create the perfect shooting.

She showed them the pages, giving visual representation of how the model would look in the set, how the poses would convey the message. Azriel analyzed each page quietly, lost in contemplation, contrary to Miguel, who silently shook beside him, clutching his fist to his mouth.

Elain reached in front of Azriel to slap Miguel's arm. “What are you laughing at?”

“You said you sketched.”

“I did.” 

“Angelita, you drew a bunch of stick people.” He lifted the tip of a paper, trying to discern what the heck she had done there. Lots of circles and lines, that's what. “It’s impossible to understand this.”

Elain gasped out loud, dramatically clutching a hand to her chest, gluing the back of her other hand to her forehead.

"Here we go," Azriel muttered, getting out of her way.

Elain staggered towards Miguel, clinging to his jacket, shaking him left and right.

“My own friend. My brother in army!”

“Brother in arms.” Azriel corrected with a shake of the head.

Elain ignored him, way too deep into her theatrical redemption of a betrayed person, continuing her absurd discourse.

“My ally! Here I was, defending your maidenly honor, and you, you! You throw me under the bus! Thou shalt not kill, Miguel, thou shalt not kill! Why do you murder me like this! Have you no compassion? Have you no honor? Why do you betray me, why?" With a final cry, she sobbed into his shirt.

"Alright, alright. Get up now." Miguel held Elain up right, who was still pretending to be weak on the knees. “Couldn’t you have cut some old mags or something?”

“And give you some else’s vision?” her face twisted with horror, Elain pushing away from him to clean her fake tears. “No, thank you. This is an original shooting, with original concept, so we needed original drawings.” She tapped her index on the paper. “You have to look with your third eye, friend.”

“I have that?”

“Everyone does.” Fixing her hair in a ponytail, Elain wiggled herself between the two man, preparing to give a class they would not forget. “Pay attention, por sabor.”

“Por favor," he corrected amused.

“That’s what I said. Look, these are all different poses, kneeling, standing, laying down. I gave my blood for the stick people! Look! Here, she’s falling from a cliff into darkness, see, her arms are trying to grab salvation. Here, they are lying down, bored to death, in desperate need of something new, excitement. Then, boom! Wangsalvation. And here comes Vera," her passionate speech mellowed, for a shadow was casted over her, a strong frame trapping her between his body and the table. Elain wondered if Azriel had an inner furnace, because he always seemed to run hotter than her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to remain professional. "Vera is – Vera...? Yes! Vera. Vera will be waiting for her pupils, reaching her hand like the statue of a goddess, teaching her ways to the youth.”

The heat of Azriel's body seeped into her naked arms as he gently took a hold of her wrist, long soft fingers wrapping around her skin. Mouth-watering muscles flexed as guided her, making her point at something she could not care less.

"What's that one?"

Elain licked her lips, imagining how much prettier he’d look holding both of her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, binders dropped to the ground because she’d be the one spread on this table, harsh hazel eyes darkening with desire as he bent over–

“Models in opposite sides, touching each other’s faces.” She mumbled bewildered.

“Mmmh.” His purring vibrated on her back, Elain gulping at the awareness that she was straight out resting against his front. Her cheeks heated, eyes darting quickly to the witness in the room, only to find him distracted by his phone.

“Hey, Jerry read my email. He'll see me first thing tomorrow,” Miguel said casually. Jerry was their chief-editor, responsible for all the journalist aspects of an issue. “I’ll cut the last page and brainstorm new questions tonight. Maybe he can finish proofreading before we fly out.”

Azriel's hand moved from her wrist to her waist, resting casually at her hip. "I rather you proofread the winner's interview first. Wang is the last to go, there’s time to fix hers.”

“You sure?”

The two exchanged more words Elain didn’t pay an ounce of attention to, too busy digesting her latest daydream. The fact that her fantasies were now starred by a different Marino still caught her by surprise sometimes.

Surely, all that making out, like a couple of unsupervised horny teenagers, was messing with her brain chemistry. Because Azriel went from being nothing but a cranky boss, who made her blood boiling with impatience after their interactions, to be the protagonist of her x-rated story lines, sending her spiraling simply because he touched her wrist –not even her ass or titties, her goddamn wrist! This man’s touch needed to be studied.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it got: Elain not only liked to be Azriel's girlfriend; Elain liked Azriel.

A kiss on top of her head startled Elain back in the present, Miguel long gone from the room.

“I can smell your neurons burning.” Azriel joked, smelling her hair, kissing the same spot from before. The little excited thing in her chest went crazy. “Why is your heart beating so fast?” he whispered in her ear, “I can feel it in my chest.”

Crap, he could feel it?

Elain groaned.

At first, she thought Azriel Marino didn't had a flirtatious bone in his body, later, she understood he simply wasn't into cheesy reckless pick up lines like her. No, Azriel enjoyed other ways to take her off her feet, generally pointing things a gentleman should pretend he hadn't noticed! Sometimes it felt like this man was put on this earth to humble her. Christ, how was she supposed to flirt her way out this? Elain was in need of a Scotty to beam her up and away from here, before this man discovered her weakness. He was already way to powerful for her taste.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that my boss being inappropriate during office hours.”

“Now, she remembers I'm her boss. And you are inappropriate all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird when you do it. I'm the funny partner in this relationship.”

Azriel used her jeans beltloops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table “Are you?” Since when had this man confused face been so adorable? "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. Was he going to put her up the table? God, she hoped he would. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Before she could control herself, Elain let her tongue dart outside, meetind the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you," she replied in a daze.

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

"Technically, we are past office hours. I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave those glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck.

Knuckles rapped against the glass wall; a melodious voice calling his name. Worse, calling him by a pet name.

"Az." The affectionate sugary tone made Elain grimace. And she wasn't the only one.

One blink and the burning desire in his eyes morphed into anxiety.

"Az?" His face paled. As if he couldn't believe the sound reaching his ears. Elain looked from him to the gorgeous woman in the doorway, checking her from feet to face.

Black stilettos, red strapless jumpsuit and sunglasses greeted her. Manicured red coffin nails clutched a tiny mini purse, beach blonde hair gathered at her nape in a low, elegant, ponytail, once again making Elain feel inadequate in her jeans and tee. Morrigan took her sunglasses off, giving Elain a view of her red swollen eyes.

"Az... Azriel." Her trembling voice calling his full name seemed to wake up Azriel from his trance. He withdrew from Elain completely, turning to Morrigan at last

"Hi." Uncomfortable silence stretched when he didn't greet her back. If Morrigan was saddened by his stiff reaction, she did not let it show. "Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

[daltoneering]

Fire, water and smoke imagery in ep 13

Ok, lots to get into here, so hopefully this doesn't get too long! I actually decided to do a separate post for the pool scene because trying to fit all my thoughts about it here would be too much, so definitely check that out as well.

The first shot I want to talk about is this one from early on in the episode:

Look at that framing! Kinn and Porsche are divided by the same fountain that Porsche walked past on his way into the main mafia family complex in episode 1. I discussed early in my water and fire thoughts about how water represents the main mafia family (at times, and at other times it just represents Kinn)—here I think we're back at that symbolism again. Porsche is aware that whatever his backstory is, it has something to do with the main family, and that's what's separating them. Not only is the fountain separating them visually, but the path leading up to it is separating them physically—a foreshadowing of where Porsche's journey of discovery is going to take him.

Porsche is smoking again in the scene in which he's reflected in the mirror (more thoughts on that here!). As his actions take on more of a mafia-lean—keeping secrets and hiding things—he comforts himself with the familiarity of smoking.

Kinn takes the cigarette off him, and asks him if he's stressed—he knows how to read Porsche now, and can clearly see that this isn't just a relaxed indulgence. And then tells him that he should put something else in his mouth instead <3 whore (affectionate). But actually I think this is super interesting because in ep 8 Porsche gave up smoking because Kinn was his comfort now, and although he has smoked between now and then, here he is doing it specifically as a comfort and stress-reliever—instead of, as Kinn suggests, finding comfort in Kinn.

Korn is sitting once again by the main mafia family central pool—although, interestingly, not centrally on it this time as he was in episode 5. The scene in ep 5, with the chess and reflections and hidden agendas, was loaded with questions about what Korn was doing and why—and this episode starts to reveal the answers to some of those questions to us.

We still don't have all the answers even by the end of the episode, but the fact that he doesn't feel that he needs to place himself in that central seat of power anymore feels telling to me. He's got Kinn and Porsche where he wants them: under his thumb, back in the main family complex. Or so he thinks. He doesn't have control of Porsche, and he is never going to.

No Korn, it absolutely is not! Not with this show!!

To reiterate my point above: smoking is most often associated with Porsche in this series, and Korn smoking a cigar here is another indicator of the fact that he thinks he has won. He hasn't.

I also think it's interesting that Kinn called both him and Porsche out on it—he smoked himself in ep 10, but I said at the time and I still would maintain that that was mostly about him taking on this thing of Porsche's and bringing some balance to their relationship. Kinn is not a big smoker. And I think him calling Korn out on it here in relation to his health could very possibly be some foreshadowing—it's easy to forget the reason why Korn is in the process of handing the family running over to him, but it's because he's got health problems.

A real fire! The first one since ep 2! Finally I feel justified in having "fire" in my post title...

Ah, Pete's funeral... (RIP Big, you had a proper ceremony in my heart.) I think the main imagery that I got from this scene other than the burning of paper money was the symbolism of fire for rebirth—Pete comes back from the dead amidst a blaze of smoke, much like Porsche's phoenix. I've seen a good bit of discussion about Kinn and Vegas being foils or paralleling each other, and I would love to see more for Porsche and Pete!

And the final item for this post:

Another Porsche/Pete parallel, this time with when Vegas offered Porsche a light in ep 4. Pete is trying to get some relief by smoking, but he immediately spits out his cigarette when he realises who is offering him that relief.

Pool scene thoughts here! (Which sort of bridge the gap between water imagery and reflections)

(Reflections and mirrors in this episode / all fire/water/smoking thoughts for previous episode / series tag)

[cravingsfromatwistedone]

OYA HANA WHAT WAS THAT

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO BARTON IS BUT PLEASE, I NEED YOU TO DROP THAT INSTANTLY

YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE AMOUNT OF JOY AND LAUGHTER YOU BROUGHT TO ME WHEN I SAW THIS!

YOU CAME IN ALL SUAVE AND COOL UNTIL I BROUGHT OUT THOSE DRABBLES ONLY TO HAVE YOU COME TO ME LIKE THIS IN MY REQUEST BOX~ DON'T WORRY HOWEVER! I'LL BE INDULGING YOU ON A LITTLE BIT ON THE TWO OF THE WHITE HAIRED MALES~

[ DRAGONIC BLADE ] TAKI X FEM!READER

[ GLORIOUS IRONJAW ] BARTON X FEM!READER

TAKI; AN ASSASSIN, A MAN FOR HIRE, A MERCENARY, YOU NAME IT! HE'LL TAKE ON ABOUT ANY JOBS, FROM SAVING THE WORLD TO FINDING LITTLE LOST KITTIES FOR HIS CLIENTS.....FOR A PRICE OF COURSE. HIS SERVICES DON'T COME CHEAP AND HE HAS A LIST OF PEOPLE UP AT HIS PHONE THAT REQUIRES HIS FULL ATTENTION BUT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU...WELL....HE WOULDN'T SAY IT'S FAVOURITISM BUT YOU'RE ONE OF THE FEW REGULAR CLIENTS THAT GIVES HIM A BIGGER TIP AND TREATS HIM QUITE DECENTLY TO BOOT IT SO THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP HIS REGULARS IS TO PUT THEM ON AS HIS FIRST PRIORITY, YEAH?

THOUGH THERE ARE MOMENTS WHEN YOU'D SHEEPISHLY TELL HIM THAT YOUR WALLET'S A BIT....EMPTY FROM ALL OF THE SPENDING BUT REST ASSURED DARLING, HE'S QUICK TO TELL YOU THAT THE ONLY PAYMENT YOU'LL BE DOING IS ACCOMPANYING HIM FOR A DRINK AT A LATER TIME; EVEN GOING SO FAR TO SAY THAT HE'LL BE PAYING FOR YOUR DRINK TO MAKE HIS OFFER EVEN MORE TEMPTING FOR YOU TO ACCEPT. IT'S ONLY WHEN THE TWO OF YOU STARTED ORDERING UP THE DRINKS AND LAUGHING TO YOUR HEART'S CONTENT DOES HE TRULY SHOWS HOW MUCH HE FAVOURS YOUR AFFECTION MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE

HIS ADVANCES ARE SUBTLE YET BOLD AT THE SAME TIME. HE'LL PULL YOU CLOSER WHEN THE INTOXICATION OF YOUR DRINK SETS IN, WHISPERING INTO YOUR EAR THAT IT'S HIS DUTY TO ENSURE THAT HIS LOVELY CLIENT DOESN'T GET TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF IN SUCH A BUSY BAR BEFORE PULLING AWAY, CHUCKLING AT YOUR FLUSHED FACE AS HIS GLOVED HAND STAYED COMPLETELY STILL ON YOUR HIPS. ALSO DO CONSIDER YOURSELF SPARED FROM USING PUBLIC TRANSPORTS BECAUSE HE'LL BE OFFERING YOU A RIDE ON HIS CAR WHENEVER THE OPPORTUNITY ARISE. HE'LL FLASH HIS SIGNATURE SMIRK AS HE OPENS THE DOOR FOR YOU, SOFTLY CLOSING IT WITH A THUD BEFORE HEADING OVER TO SIT IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT; ALWAYS REMINDING YOU TO WEAR YOUR SEAT BELT JUST BEFORE STARTING UP THE CAR

HOWEVER, IT WON'T BE LONG BEFORE HE RESORTS TO OTHER FORM OF PAYMENTS ONCE YOU BOTH HAVE GOTTEN TO KNOW EACH OTHER WELL ENOUGH. THE MOMENT YOU TELL HIM THAT YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO PAY HIM THE USUAL HEFTY AMOUNT WHILE BEING IN HIS OFFICE, DO KNOW THAT YOUR FATE IS SEALED FROM THEN ON. THE TALL MAN WILL CORNER YOU UP AGAINST HIS DESK BEFORE FIRMLY PLACING BOTH HANDS ON THE DESK BEHIND YOU, EFFICIENTLY CAGING YOU IN HIS ARMS THAT LEAVES NO ROOM FOR YOU TO ESCAPE. WITH A HALF LIDDED EYE, HIS VOICE IS SMOOTH AND VELVETY WHEN HE ADDRESSES YOU BEFORE BRINGING A HAND UP TO CUP YOUR CHIN, HIS TONGUE PEEKING OUT TO LICK THE LOWER HALF OF HIS LIPS SEDUCTIVELY

BARTON'S NAME IS WIDELY REGARDED, CONSIDERING THAT HE'S ONE OF THE FOUR COMMANDING LEGIONS THAT RULES UNDER THE GRAND MARSHAL OF ILLUMINA SO THERE'S NO DOUBT THAT YOU'D BE MEETING HIM ON A DAY TO DAY BASIS FOR BUSINESS REASONS. THOUGH SO-CALLED BUSINESS REASONS ARE HIM JUST DEMANDING YOU TO PLAY CHESS WITH HIM AND BEING FORCED IN JOINING HIM DURING HIS TRAINING SESSIONS BECAUSE HE DEEMED THAT YOU'RE IN A DIRE NEED OF EXERCISE; HE ONLY MEANS WELL AFTER ALL SO DON'T HOLD IT AGAINST HIM!

IF YOU HAVE OTHER PLANS ( OTHER THAN WHAT HE PLANNED TO DO WITH YOU ), HE'S SURE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW BORING IT IS AND HOW HE'D RATHER MUCH FIGHT AN ECLIPSITE BUT DESPITE HIS MEAN WORDS, HE'S NOT BUDGING AN INCH AWAY FROM YOU. RATHER ON THE CONTRARY, HE'LL EVEN HELP YOU IN WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING AS LONG AS IT'S NOT PAPERWORK; JUST SO HE COULD TRY AND STEER YOU INTO DOING WHAT HE WANTS TO DO. HE WOULD CONSTANTLY ASK YOU TO PARTAKE IN HIS PLANS ONCE YOU'RE BOTH DONE DOING A TASK, EVERY SINGLE TIME. IF YOU REJECT HIM FOR A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF TIMES, HE'LL FINALLY SHUT UP AND DO WHATEVER HE'S TOLD TO DO; BEGRUDGINGLY ALONG WITH AN EVIDENT FROWN ON HIS FACE

SPARE HIM SOME KINDNESS AND ACTUALLY GO ALONG WITH HIS PLANS FOR ONCE! THE WAR OBSESSED GENERAL'S USUAL INTIMIDATING FACE WILL BRIGHTEN UP INTO A BIG TOOTHY SMILE ONCE YOU FINALLY SETTLED IN FOR THE DAY BY PLAYING CHESS OR ANY WAR CENTRIC STRATEGY GAMES HE HAS IN STOCK! OH, HE'S NOT STOPPING UNTIL THERE THOUGH! ONCE HE'S GOTTEN BORED OF PLAYING BOARD GAMES, HE'LL DRAG YOU ALONG INTO DOING TRAINING WITH HIM; REGARDLESS OF YOUR WHINES AND PROTESTS AGAINST IT. THE INTENSIVE TRAINING WOULD ONLY COME TO A STOP WHEN YOU'RE FULLY EXHAUSTED ( MORE LIKE AT THE BRINK OF DEATH ) WHILE THE MALE BARELY BROKE A SWEAT; HE'S DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU COULDN'T JOIN HIM IN THE NEXT SESSION BUT HEY! IT'S AN ACHIEVEMENT THAT YOU MANAGED TO FINISH UP THE FIRST PHASE OF IT!

THE ONE THING THAT HE WISHED THAT WAS DIFFERENT WAS THE PROCESS THAT HIM FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU. HE STARTED TO ACQUIRE THEM THROUGH THE COUNTLESS ONE ON ONE SESSIONS HE HAD WITH YOU. THE WAY YOU'D CHAT HIM UP DURING WORKOUTS THAT PROMPTED HIM TO REMIND YOU TO FOCUS AND YET HE COULDN'T HELP TO ANSWER THE TRIVIAL QUESTIONS YOU HAD IN STOCK FOR THE DAY. YOUR CONSTANT COMPLAINTS ANNOYED HIM TO NO END WITH THE SAME REASONS THAT YOU WERE TOO EXHAUSTED OR THE SET HE GAVE YOU WAS RIDICULOUS TO ACHIEVE BUT REGARDLESS, YOU DID THEM ( TRIED TO ); SOMETHING THAT FLATTERED THE GENERAL. THEN AGAIN, HE WOULDN'T ADMIT THAT WERE MOMENTS THAT YOU HAD SPARKED A BEASTLY DESIRE IN HIM. TIME AND TIME AGAIN, HE HAD TO PHYSICALLY RESTRAIN HIMSELF AS HE HOVERS OVER YOU AS ANOTHER PAINED MOAN SLIP THROUGH YOUR LIPS, YOUR CHEST HEAVING UP AND DOWN AS LOUD PANTING NOISES TO SIGNIFY YOUR EXHAUSTION ALONG WITH HOW A FEW STRANDS OF YOUR HAIR WERE GLUED TO YOUR SWEATING SKIN. ALL OF THE NOISES AND SCENES OF YOU BEING IN SUCH A TIRED STATE DONE BY HIS DOING GOES DIRECTLY TO HIS DICK, WHICH OFTEN LEADS UP TO HIM HAVING TO DEAL WITH IT IN THE SHOWERS. ONE OF THESE DAYS, HE WON'T BE DEALING WITH HIS URGES IN THE SHOWERS; HE'LL BE TAKING IT OUT ON YOU SOON ENOUGH