#Think about why you are tempted to something

[caramelcoloredkiss]

☆* Drabble #1 ╮

[A small drabble before writing a big one! ]

Warning! 18+ sub! Male reader.

Thoughts on mute m!reader who isn't as helpless as people think he is, but gets weak in the knees when he finds out someone genuinely cares about him.

Like— Imagine how, m!reader feels as if he's a burden to people due to his disability, constantly acting independently because of that guilt. What if their was a man that took care of a him? Someone who had been assigned by his parents to keep an eye on him. (And his loneliness.)

—You're frustrated of course, he was younger than you! (Not by a lot but still.)—And he clearly didn't want to be there. The man constantly looked displeased with even just assisting you in simple tasks.

..but he didn't have a choice, he was literally your bodyguard!

...

Even with all that, he was kind of annoyingly attractive. He was muscular but not beefed up, like the body builders you watched on television. He wore a stoic face that was hard to read on— lips sealed and eyes narrow. You were a little ashamed to admit how much you stared at his face, but it wasn't your fault he was born like that! He was just so— so..

Oh.

This wasn't good, you were gaining feelings for him; and as if this couldn't get any worse— he had started to warm to to you! It was the little things that made you feel like a complete idiot for not noticing your developing friendship.

It was the way he leaned down to your ear whenever he needed something to say, the way he made light touches towards your exposed skin, it was the way he always seem to look at you whenever it was in a crowded room.

Everything he did was starting to be noticeable, and you couldn't help but want him near your presence more often than not.

Honestly— It was a bit humiliating to realize how much you actually depended on him now, not just with your necessities; but your love. And by God you were smitten.

But you kept yourself at a safe distance, too afraid of rejection from your closest person. A heartbreak is one thing— but one from someone who had seen your body, mind and soul? Who looked past your terrible mistakes? He was perfect, and a part of you thinks a darling woman with the heart of gold would suit his taste.

Oh but how naive you were, his relationship towards you wasn't simply a mutual bond of platonic friendship. It was devotion and infatuation, he read you like a book that just couldn't be put down; the heart of his other wise lifeless body. His love for you wasn't something he could put into words, and yet he wanted you to hear his desires.

He was idiotic, it was as simple as that. A man that dedicated his years of professionalism for an opportunity— just to only let in slip down through this fingers to feel your warm embrace and plush face. For someone who had such a reputation like himself it was hard to not look at you without feeling the urge to protect you from such a cruel world. Something he wished he had done before.

.....

After a while you started to crack.

You might not be a helpless lamb but you sure did hope you could turn into a gust of clouds by now.

He was tempting you, right? Or were you just becoming delirious from the sleepless nights of waking up with your heart racing like a deer from your rather.. Innapropriate dreams.

The illusions of his rough hands grazing at your thighs as he bit your cheeks with a playful grin. The dreams of all his gentle yet firm ways of thrusting his hips to stuff you full—

his hot breath on your swollen nipple as he continuously suckled until it was puffy and sensitive. You felt like you were drowning in heat, you never had thoughts like these before, so why now!? Just— why did it have to be him.

You remembered them so clearly, why did your brain wonder off so far when it came to him? It was just embarrassing.

But... If you had a favorite dream of your shameful fantasies, it would be your first.

He had you pinned down on your bed, his mouth slightly open from how he was catching his breath, bangs sticking on his forehead— body covered in thin layers of sweat that trickled down his forearms and neck continuously. He looked at you with so much devotion, biting his lip and closing his eyes everytime he penetrated his cock, it almost felt real.

You were going to die, from shame or maybe more natural causes the world gives you.

But oh.

After you had woken up from another dream, ready to pathetically masturbate in silence— he was there. Oh right.. an accident had happened and you were bed ridden until further notice, leading to him staying by your side; taking care of you as he always did.

"Ah- ha.. ? I-it doesn't matter right— let's just move on from this."

You tried to run away, to explain how he wasn't supposed to see you like this. He was going to be disgusted— who wouldn't be? If he were to laugh it off it would've been just the best case scenario, yeah he maybe nonchalant but maybe if he just—

"Who.. Did you dream about, [Name]?"

Huh? Oh, his hands moved.

"Ah.. Ha? What do you mean by that..? it doesn't matter! Just let it go—"

But he didn't, he wouldn't. He wanted to know who could make you let out such adorable noises, the desperate faces you made when you couldn't make those fantasies come true.

So he grabs you, not as gentle as he normally did.

"Just tell me, I wanna help. I'm always at your side, it shouldn't be embarrassing right? "

"I-.. f-fuck it really doesn't."

Your hands began to shake, unable to focus on expressing your words.

You were screwed, he kept leaning closer and closer. At this rate you might just make your own grave stone. So you moved your hands again.

"It's.. You."

He stared, with a blank look, something a bit too animalistic. Even still, he simply smiled while parting his lips, in favor of his own voice.

"Why didn't you say so? Let me make your dreams come true, like a proper assistant."

[Haha... Ok I might make this real.]

[A side note but they're both using sigh language! I'm sorry if it doesn't seem like it.]

[goldfades]

paige bueckers x medic reader blurb

idk why this has been on my mind but here's something to feed you guys while i recover from whatever the fuck last semester was

here’s the thing about paige bueckers: she’s annoying.

not in the throw-your-clipboard, tear-your-hair-out kind of way, but in the she’s-too-charming-for-her-own-good kind of way. the kind that makes your pulse skitter and your cheeks burn, and—worst of all—she knows it.

you’re certain she figured it out the first time she winked at you during pre-season. she’d just finished a shooting drill, her braid swinging like a metronome as she jogged over to your side of the court, flashing that grin—the one that’s equal parts mischief and sunshine.

“think i’m pushing it too hard, doc?” she asked, her hand brushing yours when you handed her a water bottle. your stuttered response? a dead giveaway.

and now, it’s practically her sport. teasing you, that is. not basketball though she’s otherworldly at that too. but here she is, six months post-acl surgery, stuck in the monotony of rehab, and somehow still making you feel like the one who’s sweating under bright gym lights.

“you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” her voice cuts through your focus as you jot down notes on her progress for the day. when you glance up, she’s watching you from the training table, her injured leg stretched out in front of her, an ice pack wrapped snug around her knee. her head tilts, blonde strands falling loose from her messy bun, and there it is—that look.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that,” you mutter, knowing full well she’s waiting for you to take the bait.

she leans back on her elbows, her lips curving into a slow smile. “i’m just saying, if you don’t stay close, how am i supposed to recover? pretty sure moral support is in your job description.”

you roll your eyes, even as your heart hammers against your ribs. “pretty sure my job description is making sure you don’t blow out your knee again, bueckers.”

“so you do care about me.” her voice lilts, sing-song and undeniably smug, and god, you’re starting to regret all the years you spent chasing a degree instead of learning how to mask a blush.

you try not to sigh too loudly, scribbling something on the clipboard even though it’s just a nervous scribble now. she’s watching you like she knows—because, of course, she does. she always knows. it’s like she has a sixth sense for your embarrassment, and worse, she’s figured out exactly how to weaponize it.

“i care about all my patients,” you say, finally looking up from your notes to meet her gaze. it’s meant to come off clinical, professional, but the way her eyes sparkle makes you feel like you’ve said something embarrassingly sweet instead.

“but do you care about me more?” she asks, tilting her head, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

you deadpan her. “paige.”

“what?” she grins wider now, the kind of grin that should probably come with a warning label. “i’m just trying to gauge my ranking on the medic hierarchy. am i at least in the top five?”

“you’re lucky you even have a ranking,” you mutter, setting the clipboard down and moving closer to check her ice pack. you’re trying—really trying—not to make a big deal about how close you are to her now. but then her hand shifts, casually brushing against yours as she adjusts the pack herself.

and just like that, your resolve? gone.

“aww, come on,” she says softly, her voice lower now, almost teasingly gentle. “you can admit it. i’m your favorite.”

your lips press into a thin line as you busy yourself with checking the straps on the ice pack. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” she counters, and it’s so smooth, so shameless, that you actually pause mid-motion.

you glance at her, half tempted to say something snarky, but she’s already watching you with this expression that’s somehow both playful and too much. like she’s trying to figure you out and enjoy herself at the same time. it’s unfair, really.

“is this what you spend your time thinking about?” you ask, attempting to sound exasperated. “ways to embarrass me?”

“not just ways to embarrass you,” she says, and the mock sincerity in her tone is criminal. “also ways to make you smile. you should smile more, you know.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction, even though—damn it—you’re already fighting the urge to crack a grin. she sees it, of course. she always sees it.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, stepping back to grab another piece of equipment you need for her session.

“but you like me anyway,” she calls after you, her voice sing-song.

you don’t respond this time, opting instead to take an extra moment to gather your thoughts while pretending to look for something in the cabinet. when you turn back around, she’s already back to lounging on the training table, her arms folded behind her head like she’s posing for a magazine spread.

“okay, let’s get serious,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to anything resembling professionalism. “how’s the pain today? any stiffness?”

she shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something more serious in her expression. “a little. nothing crazy.”

“you need to let me know if it gets worse,” you remind her, stepping closer to start her mobility exercises. “overdoing it isn’t going to help your recovery.”

“yes, ma’am,” she says, her tone light, but you catch the way her eyes soften when she watches you. it’s different from her usual teasing—quieter, more thoughtful—and for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with it.

you busy yourself with guiding her through the exercises, focusing on the mechanics, the angles, the movements. but it’s hard to ignore the way she keeps glancing at you, her smile smaller now but no less present.

“you’re good at this,” she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

you blink, looking up at her. “at what?”

“this,” she gestures vaguely, her hand moving to encompass the room, the exercises, you. “taking care of people. making them feel like they’re gonna be okay, even when they’re not sure they will be.”

her words catch you off guard, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. it’s so… earnest. too earnest for someone who’s usually throwing out flirty one-liners and over-the-top winks.

“that’s… my job,” you manage to say, your voice quieter now.

she shakes her head, her gaze never leaving yours. “nah. it’s more than that. you’re more than that.”

and just like that, the air feels heavier, charged with something you can’t quite name. she doesn’t say anything else, just watches you with those impossibly blue eyes, like she’s waiting for you to say something back.

but all you can do is focus on the way your heart is racing, the way her words linger, soft and unshakable, in the space between you.

it was hard to forget the day it happened. the sound of it—a sickening pop that cut through the air like a gunshot—still haunted you sometimes, echoing in your mind when the gym got too quiet. you’d been courtside, clipboard in hand, watching as paige went down. she didn’t get up right away. that was how you knew it was bad.

paige bueckers wasn’t the type to stay down. she played like she was invincible, like nothing could touch her. but that day, she just lay there, clutching her knee, her face twisted in pain. it wasn’t just the physical agony that got to her, though; it was something deeper. you could see it in her eyes when she finally looked at you as you rushed to her side—this raw, unfiltered fear. like she’d just watched her whole world shatter in an instant.

“is it bad?” she’d asked, her voice barely above a whisper as you carefully assessed her knee. there was a tremble in it that you weren’t used to hearing, and it made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“we’re gonna take care of you,” you’d said, dodging the question because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. not yet.

she’d nodded, but her jaw was clenched, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the bench where you’d helped her sit. and when the scans came back, confirming what you’d already suspected, the devastation in her face nearly broke you.

the weeks that followed were some of the hardest you’d ever seen her endure. paige wasn’t herself—not the confident, fiery leader everyone knew and loved. she was quieter, angrier, and you could tell she was struggling to keep it all together. rehab was slow and painful, and there were days when she’d show up to the training room with this blank look in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again.

but then, there were the moments when you caught a glimpse of the paige you knew. the one who refused to stay down for long. like the time she’d walked in with her crutches slung over one shoulder, grinning like she’d just won a championship. “figured i should start carrying these instead of letting them carry me,” she’d joked, and for the first time in weeks, you’d seen a flicker of that unshakable determination in her.

those moments grew more frequent as time went on. she threw herself into her recovery with a single-minded focus that was equal parts inspiring and infuriating. there were times you had to physically stop her from pushing herself too hard, reminding her that she wasn’t invincible. but she’d just roll her eyes and flash you that grin, saying something like, “gotta keep you on your toes, doc.”

and now, watching her sit on the training table, her ice pack wrapped around her knee and her confidence radiating from every pore, it was hard to reconcile this version of her with the one you’d seen at her lowest. the injury hadn’t just changed her; it had shaped her, strengthened her in ways that even she probably didn’t fully understand.

“what are you thinking about?” she asks suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. her voice is lighter now, teasing as always, but there’s a softness in her gaze that catches you off guard.

you hesitate for a moment before shrugging, a small smile tugging at your lips. “just thinking about how far you’ve come.”

she raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “yeah? and what’s the verdict?”

“the verdict,” you say, setting your clipboard down and meeting her gaze, “is that you’re still a pain in the ass.”

her laugh is loud and genuine, echoing through the room in a way that makes your chest feel a little lighter. “you love it, though,” she says, grinning like she knows a secret.

and maybe she does. because no matter how many times she teases you, or how much she flusters you, you can’t help but admire her resilience—the way she got back up when the world tried to keep her down.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[j-sunct]

lose my breath @ HYUNJIN & CHAN

𓂃 if hyunjin hadn't chosen such a boring movie, y/n wouldn't have fingers in her pussy, much less bangchan's dick in her mouth.

❀ chanjinㅤㅤㅤ ' ㅤㅤㅤfem!reader

smutㅤ  ㅤ╱ㅤ    👤ㅤ   minors do not interact

⋆ war'ningsㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤthreesome, chan and hyunjin have a stable relationship with reader, fingering, blowjob, dirty talk, teasing, exhibitionism.

s/n, bangchan and hyunjin had a kind of itinerary for saturdays. they would ALWAYS go see movies together, both to strengthen their relationship since, with the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, they actually ended up forgetting about each other.

today was another one of those movie sessions; popcorn made, and hyunjin was choosing the movie, since this week was his turn.

“i think i found it!" hyun shouted from the living room, ready to press play. s/n returned to the kitchen with a bucket of popcorn, while chan tried to balance three glasses of soda

“wich movie is that?" s/n asked as she sat in the middle of the couch, with the popcorn bowl between her legs.

“honestly, i don't know. i just saw the cover and found it a little interesting.” hwang confessed, leaning over to grab a portion of the popcorn.

meanwhile, bangchan seemed very focused on the movie, "i really hope this movie is good, hyunjin. don't waste our precious time.” he stated, chuckling lightly. not that the movie being bad was a problem, they had the whole weekend to enjoy it.

jinnie joined in the laughter, as well as y/n. “i promise, hyung, that i won't waste our saturday. this movie has potential, trust me." he gave a thumbs up, an attempt to sound confident.

“so, let's get started!” s/n said and finally, played the movie.

—

unfortunately, bangchan was right about his opinion of the movie — that's what hyunjin thought, sighing lightly. he didn't want to show that he was completely bored with it.

the romance was poorly developed, scenes so cliché that they made him roll his eyes. at first, he didn't imagine it was a romance film, but it was. this is like a moral lesson "kids, always read the synopsis before choosing something!”

it really did seem boring until hyunjin noticed how the popcorn bucket was positioned on y/n’s legs. it was like a light bulb went off over his head. why not a fuck?

first of all, he checked her and bangchan's attention... both completely focused on the movie. perfect.

playing innocent, he reached out to "grab some popcorn from the bowl", but no. his hand rested under y/n's crotch, without even any provocation or anything like that.

her eyes widened before slowly drifting towards where hyun's hand was positioned. shit. could he be a little less of a pervert? even over her shorts, his fingertips caused a slight friction that made her sigh. the need to get wet was tempting.

hyunjin's thin fingers wandered over y/n's clothes, now definitely applying a little pressure. it was inevitable for her not to feel her pussy contract a little and the liquid flow out consequently.

bangchan was right there, he could see her at any moment, calling her a "whore" for letting herself be touched so easily... but what could she do? she really wanted to be hyunjin's whore, let him use her for free, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

it was so good, the feeling of the juices starting to run from y/n's little hole, hyunjin's fingers stimulating her clitoris that, even over so many layers of clothing, was capable of making her lose focus of the film.

little by little, hyunjin brought his mouth closer to y/n's ear, just to whisper. “it's good, isn't it? the feeling of knowing you could get caught at any moment.” he laughed, softly. without drawing bangchan's attention. “like, chan can look over at any moment, see you practically begging for dick and just, fuck you. use you.” he continued laughing until he stopped moving his hand and walked away completely.

y/n mumbled in denial, the feeling was too good to be abandoned. why did hyunjin stop?

“chris, i think it's time to get this perversion out of our girl.”

bangchan turned around, a smile already plastered on his face. "from the moment she accepted your touches, hyun.”

y/n was in complete shock, maybe even feeling vulnerable, but still completely wet to receive chan and jinnie. “she doesn't even deny it, does you, love?" the older man placed his hand on her chin, forcing her to look at him.

hyunjin approached from behind, placing his hands on her hips. he saw y/n shake her head. so defenseless. taking advantage of the fact that all her attention was on bangchan now, he approached the waistband of her shorts, slowly lowering them. then he removed her panties, which for a moment remained stuck to the cavity, due to her juices. “naughty girl..." he laughed, almost mockingly.

y/n at the same time that she felt exposed, she felt completely excited, wanting to be touched. she grabbed bangchan's shoulders, when she finally felt hyunjin enter two fingers inside.

“ngl... wait…” y/n muttered, digging her nails into chris' shoulder. “i'm tight…” she whispered, more like a moan, as her pussy sent vibrations into hyunjin's hand.

bangchan took advantage of the moment to unbutton his pants, caressing his own volume over his white underwear. some whispers came out of chris' mouth, his dick looked so big. he was excited, it was a fact. a pool of pre-cum covered his underwear, right at the mark of the head of his cock.

y/n can't help but bite her lips, bangchan practically jerking off right in front of her, while hyunjin fingers her. she finally took action, pulling down his underwear until chan's private parts were visible.

“what a little bitch... can't wait to suck my dick, huh?” bangchan held y/n's face, pressing her cheeks into a sort of pout.

“you should know by now, chris. make her suck your fucking dick and make those ridiculous noises.” hyunjin was eagerly searching for her sweet spot, he wanted to make the girl have all the pleasure in the world and he knew that all that dirty talk only excited her even more. her pulsating hole only confirmed that, tightening more and more around the korean's fingers.

hyunjin went in circular movements, working more where y/n was excited, where she moaned and begged for more of him, until he came out with his fingers completely smeared with her juice.

hyun's fingers were coated in y/n's slick arousal as he worked her tight hole, his movements growing more urgent with each passing second. her moans grew louder, that little body trembling in need.

chan took advantage of the moment, guiding her face towards his throbbing cock. "open wide, baby," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "i'm going to feed you my dick."

y/n eagerly parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of christopher's cock. she moaned at the taste of his pre-cum, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

bangchan pushed forward, sliding his cock into y/n's warm, wet mouth. she took him deep, her throat contracting around his shaft. channie groaned in pleasure, his hips rocking forward to meet her eager mouth.

hyunjin watched the scene unfold, his own cock throbbing with need. he added a third finger to y/n's pussy, stretching her further. "damn, you're so good taking hyung's dick…" he grunted, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat.

her moans vibrated around bangchan's cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. he grabbed a fistful of her hair, guiding her head as he fucked her mouth. "that's it, baby. take my cock like a good little slut."

jinnie could feel y/n's walls fluttering around his fingers, a telltale sign of her impending orgasm. he rubbed her clit with his thumb, pushing her over the edge.

y/n came hard, her pussy gushing around hyunjin's fingers. she moaned around bangchan's cock, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

bangchan couldn't hold back any longer. with a grunt, he pulled out of her mouth and came, his hot seed splattering across her face and tits.

slowly, hyun removed his fingers from inside the girl, seeing all that juice and sticky cum on his hand. he felt a desire to taste her and, for sure, next time, he would suck her pussy.

“you taste very good, honey.” he stated precisely, his tongue around his long, thin fingers, cleaning them thoroughly.

[lvndrdaaze]

any virgin ororon x virgin f!reader thoughts? if you write nsfw of course 🫣

bestie... I had so many thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy 💜

wc: 2.5k

Ororon's thoughts on sex were confused - in nature, it was a simple biological act of reproduction, of continuing a species, and he knew he wasn't prepared for children yet. However, in his time with the Fatui, some of the more vulgar agents drunkenly described the pleasure and thrill of it in ways that made his naive cheeks turn pink - he couldn't help but feel curious. Did it really feel that good?

In a similar fashion, the people of his tribe described it as a spiritual experience of two souls reaching out and touching each other in a way that brought the purest form of ecstasy known to humanity. This opinion had always led him to believe that sex simply wouldn't be for him - what pleasure could a broken soul provide, or even experience?

But a short while into your relationship, something started to happen to him. A simple touch from you had always set his heart racing, but somewhere along the way that rushing blood began flooding down to his cock, making him stir and twitch in his jeans. He found that he couldn't take his eyes off you when that happened, that the plush of your thighs suddenly seemed so inviting and the mere thought of your cleavage made him throb. 

Ororon touched himself to the thought of you, sprawled out across the bed in his messy bedroom as images of you flashed through his mind. His leaking cock twitched, precum lubricating his rapidly pumping fist as obscene moans echoed around the room like a reverberation of the pleasure he was experiencing at his own hand. He came the first time with a surprised shout of your name, his back arching off the mattress as he spurted thick, hot fluid onto his own stomach and chest. He didn't know all that much about sex, but he knew it was firmly on his mind now.

So, he was the first to mention it out of the two of you. "Have you ever had sex?" He asked bluntly one afternoon, and he was surprised to see the pink tinge to your cheeks and hint of shock in your eyes. Hadn't you been thinking of it too? He had assumed that you were, but now he wasn't so sure... But then, you answered his query with a faint shake of your head.

"W-why do you ask?"

Ororon may be naive, but he was no fool. He could recognise interest when he saw the glimmer of it in your beautiful eyes, heard it in the tremble of your voice. The seemingly innocent question was an opportunity, a door you were holding open for him. 

"I haven't either, but I've been thinking about it lately." He answered in that same nonchalant tone he always used. "With you, specifically. Have you ever wondered what it would be like?"

You blushed even more, taking your soft lower lip in between your teeth, and that was all it took for things to begin.

Ororon was gentle and a little clumsy as he figured out how to touch you for the first time. His kisses were chaste and experimental until his fingers traced over a spot on your inner thigh that made you gasp, and he was welcomed to the wet heat of your mouth. Oh, the taste of your mouth, the slickness of your tongue against his... his cock was throbbing, painfully hard in his pants, and he wanted nothing more than to see if your pussy was just as warm, just as inviting.

He wanted this to be good for you, though. So, he restrained himself for just long enough to tug your panties down your legs and familiarise himself with your slick heat. With your legs spread apart and his face level with her, he stared at the wetness gathered in your folds, hardly even noticing the way you trembled in anticipation. He hadn't even touched you yet, but the sight of you already soaked had him fascinated, and he darted his tongue out to taste the tempting, glistening flesh.

The sharp moan you let out at the contact was more than he could have ever dreamed of hearing. Within moments of registering the sweet tang of you on his tongue, he was bucking his hips against the mattress as the lapping motions of his tongue grew more persistent, and he moaned openly against your cunt with every dull pulse of pleasure that built in his gut. His eyes were closed in a pornographic image of contentment as he feasted, his fangs grazing over your twitching pussy and his hands gripping your thighs tighter than he intended as he held them open.

Ororon was equally concerned with your pleasure and his own. He explored every fold of your sweet pussy with his tongue, grinding the wet muscle around the clenching hole whilst trying to memorise the feeling and taste of it all, all whilst he humped the mattress with a growing desperation. The sounds you were making were fascinating to him - did this really feel that good to you? It felt incredible to him, so incredible that he knew he would probably cum in his pants like this if he kept going for much longer, but how good could it really feel to have someone's mouth on such a private part of your body?

At least, that was what he thought until you pushed his head away with a shaking hand and decided it was his turn. The moment your lips, wet and pink like petals in the morning dew, wrapped around his hot, needy tip, he was gone. Gasping and whining like a tragic little puppy, his fingers found their way into your hair with a surprising strength and anchored themselves there, grounding himself as you ran your tongue around the sensitive tip of his cock experimentally.

It wasn't a particularly talented blowjob, yet Ororon sobbed when you worked him only halfway into your mouth, sucking lightly and hardly bobbing your head due to the fingers gripping tight to your hair - and then he was barrelling towards the edge. The feeling of approaching an orgasm in your mouth was so intense, so much more powerful than with just his hand, that he didn't even think to warn you, and only realised his mistake when you let out a muffled yelp around him.

"Oh... sorry." He mumbled, flushed and expecting an earful from you about how inconsiderate it had been - but then he saw the glimmer in your eye.

"It's okay." You whispered, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your messy lips, and you ran a hand up his thigh in a way that could only be described as sinfully alluring. "Do you want to keep going?"

"Yes." He answered immediately with a sweet little nod and wide eyes that stared at you. "Can we, please?"

You nodded, and Ororon had never been quite so excited in his life. Helping you out of your clothes felt like peeling open his first ever Bulle fruit, shipped all the way from Fontaine... it was new, and exciting, and he couldn't wait to delve in and taste everything that the sweet flesh had to offer. 

You helped him undress similarly, and he grew even harder just from watching you tugging at his tight jeans with a groan of frustration. Maybe you were feeling just as desperate as he was right now. He helped you to get them off, shucking them onto the pile of clothing on the floor with a heavy thunk, and suddenly you were both naked and nervous.

Ororon's hands found your cheeks as he knelt between your parted thighs, holding your gaze unwaveringly. No matter how difficult you looked to resist all spread out like this, it was your comfort that was his priority.

"Please... tell me what feels good. I really have no idea what I'm doing." He murmured earnestly. 

His hips slotted easily between yours, and he quickly figured out the best way to hold his weight without crushing you with it. With one arm reaching to wrap a fist around his already throbbing length and the other anchored to the bed beside your head, he angled it towards you, dragging the thick head through your soaked folds, but a whimper from you caused his actions to pause.

"Sorry, did I hurt you? Am I going too fast? We can stop, if you want to." Ororon asked, panicked and anxious. 

"N-No, it was just... new. It felt good." You assured him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and he relaxed a little.

"C-can you..." he mumbled as he tried to find where to aim his tip a little clumsily.

Your hand joined his around his cock, and guided him towards your entrance. He felt it catch, felt the very tip slip into your warm, wet heat, and his teeth sank into his own lip. If this was what just the tip felt like, how was he going to last once he was inside you?

The process of working his way in was slow and overwhelming. Ororon had never even considered whether his dick may be bigger than average, but slipping it into your tight pussy inch by inch seemed to take forever. His hands clenched on the sheets as he watched it disappear inside your fluttering hole, and he tried his best to bite back every whimper he wanted to let free just so that he could hear your breathless moans. 

Finally, his slow rock into you was stopped as his pubic bone met yours, his aching cock fully enveloped in the warmth of your most sensitive area, and the feeling took his breath away. He could feel all of you, every ridge and bump, every twitch and clench, all accompanied by the sound of your heavy breathing mixed with his... and he understood the appeal of all of this now. He had never been so truly connected to anyone before, both literally and metaphorically. Even his broken soul was far from the forefront of his mind as he leaned down, one arm still caging you in beside your head and the other intertwining his fingers with yours, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his soft voice coming out far hoarser than he had intended.

You nodded, blinking up at him with those perfect eyes, glassy and hooded with the overwhelming sensation of being stretched around him.

"Yeah, Ororon, please..." you whispered, hooking your knees on either side of his hips and pulling him somehow deeper, as though this was natural to you. "Y-you can move..."

He released a shaky breath, and gave a slow, experimental roll of his hips. His cock dragged along your inner walls sinfully, pulling out only a couple of inches before pressing back into the addictive wetness, and he moaned, loud and obscene. 

Everything he had heard about this act seemed to make sense all at once. It was instinctual, the need to bury himself deep and never leave, just like the animals in the wilderness. It was joyous, something he wanted to gush about to anyone who would listen, just like those Fatui had. But most of all... it was spiritual. He was inside you, and it felt incredible. His tribe were right.

He kept his pace slow and deep, never withdrawing all the way out of you before canting his hips forward until his pubic bone pressed against your twitching pussy, drawing out the sweetest sounds from your lips. It took a little while to truly find a rhythm, simply because of how distracted he was by all of the different stimuli going on, all the new sights and sounds and scents - Archons, no one had warned him about the smell that clung to the air, heady and sweet.

Eventually though, he found a pace that worked for you both. One of his hands found its place on your waist, pulling you in gently against his thrusts. The sounds you were both making were loud and uninhibited, and it only made him more desperate, more in love with the experience.

"Hah... I'm, ah, I can't stop," Ororon whispered, staring down at your expression; your parted lips heaving pants and moans into the air, your eyes glazed and heavily lidded - you were a picture of obscenity, and he imagined he looked similar.

"D-don't stop, Ororon, please," you whimpered, and he felt himself throbbing inside your gummy walls, the end he had become so familiar with in recent months coming ever closer, and it was far more intense than it had ever been with just his own hand.

He picked up the pace, grunting and moaning hoarsely with every plunge of his cock into your cunt. The sound of every collision, that heavy wet squelch, was driving him wild. 

"I... oh, I'm c-close," he whined, ducking his head down to kiss at the curve of your shoulder, the perfect column of your throat. "A-are you going to..?"

"Yes," You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut and nodding frantically, "yeah, oh Archons, I-I'm close..."

He moaned, and without thinking, bit down on your shoulder, sinking his fangs into the soft, smooth skin. It felt primal, he couldn't explain it, but it seemed like it was the right thing to do, because suddenly you were clenching around him, crying out in bliss and gushing around his cock as you came.

Ororon kept going, kept thrusting his hard length wildly into the sopping hole until he could feel his release approaching, it was right there... then at the very last second, he pulled out of the warmth of your pussy, barely having time to wrap his fingers around himself before he was cumming, gasping and spurting thick lines of cum over your stomach. His body twitched and bucked, his eyes closed under the weight of it all for a few moments.

Then, he collapsed back down, hardly even bothered by the sticky sensation between your bodies as he laid atop you like a blanket.

"Wow... I had no idea it would feel so... powerful." He mused quietly, his voice a breathy whisper against your collar. He pulled back slowly, looking down at you with unrestrained affection. 

"Me neither." You whispered back, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Archons, you were so pretty.

"W-was it good for you, too?" He asked softly, his gaze falling to the marks left my his teeth on your shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry... did I hurt you? I really didn't mean to, I just, I don't know what came over me..."

But you shook your head, looping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer, until all he could focus on were the tiny details of your face. The soft flutter of your lashes, every tiny freckles on your face, the flyaway strands of hair that tickled his cheeks as he leaned in.

"It didn't hurt at all." You whispered, brushing your lips against his. "It was amazing, Ororon. You were amazing."

His heart could have exploded in his chest right then; he knew in that moment that he would never be able to get enough of this, of this feeling of warmth and connection and love.

[monimccoythings]

Primal Instincts

I saw that in an alternate universe he, sabertooth and wildchild are feral men called the pack. And I just knew my glorious purpose. For a second I was tempted to name this like one of those supernatural romantic novels from Wattpad like "Hunted by the Alpha" or something like that lol.

tags: as gn!reader as possible (except maybe one little thing that can be ignored), feral!logan, feral!victor creed (brief appearance), feral!Kyle gibney (brief appearence), animal behavior, scent marking, non-con elements, dark!logan, small violence (reader gets grabbed by the neck).

You came for a well deserved holidays to a cottage in the middle of the Canadian woods to relax and draw the wilderness. No signal, no wifi, and the closest town is half an hour by car. Just you and nature for an entire month.

Logan smelled your sweet scent from across the wilderness. And he was immediately entraced by it. He follows the scent towards a small clearing with a wooden cottage in the middle of it. And that's when he sees you.

Oh the primal and animalistic things you make him feel, too complex and strong for his primitive brain to understand and process. You make his mouth water and his cock twitch with raw desire, that's the only thing he needs to know.

Logan starts to scent mark around your house to ward off other predators, and to warn his packmates that you were already claimed; rubbing himself against trees, rocks, and the walls of your house. He got in an ugly fight with Victor because he came too close to his liking.

Kyle tried to approach you too, mostly driven by his own curiosity instead of defiance like Victor, but a single growl was enough to make him backpedal into the wilderness.

Logan also starts to leave at you doorsteps small gifts that range from cute (some flowers he had seen you sniff earlier) to creepy (a bird you had been drawing the day before, obviously dead).

When you leave for groceries he freaks out. Are you gone?? Where?? Why?? He grows frustrated because he cannot match your car's speed. You swore you heard an inhuman howl in the distance when you were driving towards the closest town.

Logan's rage and despair know no limits while you're gone. Not even Victor dares to provoke him in the middle of his frenzy, his destructive behavior could turn the smallest hint of a challenge into a very painful death.

He feels alive again when he sees your car return. Oh? You were just in need of food? He should have noticed, you don't need to worry about it anymore, he will take care of your hunger from now on. And to make sure you never leave him again, he flattens your tires with his claws.

So he starts providing you with carcasses of his hunts, his biggest prizes, only the best for his mate. He won't eat until he makes sure you have taken a bite, which concerns him when you refuse to do so. Isn't that enough? Should he hunt for bigger prey?

Let's just say it freaks you out to open the door and find a dead deer in your porch. It's not the first time it has happened. At first you thought those "presents" as accurate as they had been to your interests, had been left behind by some stray cat, yeah yeah, totally crazy but it was the safest way of thinking. But no cat was strong enough to carry a deer like that towards your house.

Fuck holidays, it was time to leave.

The blood in your veins ran cold when you saw the flattened tires. You couldn't escape by car. Your only options was either run for an hour towards the closest town, or stay there and hope whatever was lurking in the woods, never got bored of hunting just deer.

Either option terrified you, but you couldn't stop to dwell in the pros and cons.

So you ran.

It was getting dark, and cold, and your lungs felt like they were about to explode. Yet, the thought of dying if you stopped to take a breath kept you moving forwards. You didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Until you literally couldn't take a step further.

There, in the middle of the way, something, or better said, someone, was blocking your path.

It was a man, and what a man.

Hairy like a wild beast and built like the strongest bodybuilder. He was flanked by two other equally naked men, hidden in the shadows to not overshadow the one in front of you. They were larger than him, but lower in their hierarchy, you supposed by the way they trailed behind, with their heads lowered. Their behavior reminded you of a pack of wolves.

You took a step back. Their leader, or at least who you supposed was the leader, slightly bared his teeth at you, showing the tiniest hint of two very sharp fangs.

Your mind went blank. Your entire brain short-circuited. Despite the thinly veiled threath in his actions, you unconciously took a step back.

"No." The man rumbled in a very deep voice. It sounded rough, weird even, like that was the first words he pronounced ever. Still, that wasn't enough to make him less intimidating in your eyes.

So that's why when he took a step fowards, you turned around and run.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to you. Of course he would. He moved like a fish in water, this was his territory after all.

The worst part of wanting peace and tranquility in the middle of nowhere was that nobody could hear your screams. Nobody could hear you trashing and kicking against that wall of solid muscle's strong grip.

You fought, you fought with everything you had inside. Not even when his patience ran thin and snarled at you with a sound that was more animal than man did you stop fighting.

He pushed the door of your cottage and walked in with you struggling in his arms like he owned the place. He made a beeline towards the bedroom and dropped your body unceremoniously onto the bed, wasting no time in getting on top of you when he sensed you were about to bolt.

At least the other two hadn't followed him in. Still, you knew they were out there, lurking, watching. You didn't know what was worse.

Even when he had you pinned in the bed you refused to submit. With an inhuman roar, he grabbed your neck with his right hand and pressed you against the pillow, while from the knuckles of his left hand sprouted three metal blades that sank in the pillow mere inches to your right.

He was so close to your face you could see his sharp teeth glistening. His large erection poked insistently at your thigh. In the middle of that raging cloud of emotions that went from fear to dread, arousal was certainly one you were not expecting. It was faint, yet it was there. As if your body subconciously enjoyed being roughed up by that brute. Shame filled your body.

His hand moved to the back of your neck, where he held you firmly in place. His face lowered to your pulse point, where your scent was stronger, it was driving him crazy, he could feel himself getting dizzy with it. His mouth latched at your neck, sucking, biting, licking and nipping; he couldn't get enough. Everything in him was screaming to mark you, claim you, breed you full of his pups.

But he could smell you. You weren't ready. Not yet. He had to be patient. With a last nip at your neck, he left your trembling form on the bed, muttering a single warning before he exited the cottage.

"Stay."

Stay, because he'd be watching. Stay because he'd know if you tried to escape again. Stay because it wouldn't take him much to drag you back there with him, and next time he may not be so gentle.

Before walking back into the wilderness he made sure to leave his scent all over the cottage and its surroundings once again.

Logan hadn't expected you to resist. He would have liked you had welcomed his courtship with open arms. His instincts were screaming at him to just take you and tie you to him forever. Yet, there was a tiny voice inside his mind, thatwarned him that mating with an unwilling partner would risk their hate. And if Logan craved something, was your love and devotion.

He is a predator, he is the alpha of the pack. He is a very patient creature. He had caught the smallest flick of arousal when he had manhandled you earlier. His chest puffed out proudly. That was a good reaction. In due time, he would make you his mate and you would accept, willingly.

In the meantime, he will keep courting you, catering to your needs, proving himself worthy of your affections. He doesn't need to worry about anything else.

Because in the end, you would be his.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER WHAT HAPPENED

[woozinhos]

2 words.

criminal. wonwoo.

pls tysmmmmm!!

I had such a good idea for this I may of went on too much but I hope you guys enjoy this and let me know if you want a part two

As Wonwoo pinned you against the wall of the abandoned warehouse, his eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

He had come here to kill you, but now he couldn't take his hands off you. There was something about the way you looked, trapped between him and the cold, hard wall, that was driving him wild. He leaned in, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours.

"You shouldn't be so damn tempting," he growled, his voice low and rough.

He ran his hands over your body, his touch both rough and gentle at the same time. He traced the curve of your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer.

"I should be focused on killing you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "But all I can think about is how much I want to touch you, to taste you."

"I should just kill you right now," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

He pressed his body against yours, trapping you completely against the wall.

"But I can't seem to bring myself to do it," he admitted, his eyes dark with desire. "You're too damn beautiful, too addicting."

"You're the one who brought me here, Wonwoo," you said, your voice a little shaky but filled with defiance.

"You're the one who's supposed to be killing me. So why are you hesitating?"

Wonwoo's eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous as he heard your words. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above your neck.

"Because I'm not strong enough to resist you," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "I can't bring myself to end your life when all I want to do is claim you as mine."

"Then claim me," you said, your voice filled with a mix of fear and excitement.

You tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him, a silent invitation.

Wonwoo's eyes darkened even further at your words, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you even closer. He pressed his lips to your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline.

"Careful what you wish for, princess," he murmured against your skin. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop."

He moved his lips lower, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he lifted you up against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body molding perfectly against his. He pressed his hips against yours, a low growl escaping his throat as he felt your heat through the fabric of your clothes.

"You're driving me insane," he whispered, his lips moving to your collarbone.

"You're all talk, aren't you, Wonwoo?" you taunted, your voice breathless.

You knew you were playing with fire, but the way he was responding to you was too tempting to resist. Wonwoo's eyes flashed with irritation, his grip on your thighs tightening almost painfully.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he growled, his lips moving up to your ear. "But if you want to test me, princess, I'll gladly show you."

Wonwoo captured your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently before whispering in your ear.

"You think you can handle me?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can take everything I have to give you?"

You shuddered at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins.

"I can handle anything you throw at me," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly, his lips moving down to your neck again.

"We'll see about that," he said, his tongue tracing a hot path along your skin. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me for mercy."

He sucked a bruise onto your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he marked you as his. He continued to press against you, his hips grinding against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm.

"You're mine," he growled, his lips moving to your jawline. "Every inch of you, every part of you. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

Wonwoo pushed you harder against the wall, his hands roaming up your legs as he pushed your skirt up.

He ran his fingers over your thighs, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, and it was driving him wild. He let out a low, feral growl as he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

"You little minx," he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and desire. "You were expecting this, weren't you?"

"Maybe I was," you replied, your voice trembling with excitement. "Or maybe I just like the way you touch me."

Wonwoo smirked, his eyes dark with lust.

"You like being exposed like this, don't you?" he said, his fingers tracing along the edge of your skirt. "You like the feeling of my hands on your bare skin."

He pushed your skirt up even further, his fingers now tracing along the curve of your hips.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the glistening skin between your legs. "You're practically dripping, princess."

Wonwoo spun you around, pinning you against the wall with his body as he lifted your skirt even higher. He wasted no time, his mouth immediately finding its way to your center. He lapped at your wetness, his tongue tracing along your folds and circling your clit.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to devour you. His tongue worked magic, drawing moans and gasps from your lips as he licked and sucked on your sensitive flesh.

He pressed his face even deeper into you, his nose brushing against your skin as he ate you out from behind. He alternated between licking and sucking on your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You taste so good," he murmured against your skin, his words sending vibrations through your core.

He slipped a finger inside you, his tongue still working on your clit.

He curled his finger upwards, seeking out that sweet spot inside you that would drive you wild. He found it almost immediately, rubbing against it with a firm, steady pressure that had you seeing stars.

He added a second finger, stretching you out as he continued to eat you out with fervor. You moaned loudly, your body arching against the wall as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Wonwoo...oh god...yes..." you cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending even more shivers through your body.

He quickened his pace, his fingers moving in and out of you with increasing speed as he continued to lick and suck on your clit. You could feel the heat building inside you, your body tightening as you neared your release.

"I'm so close...please don't stop..." you begged, your hands scrambling for purchase against the wall.

Wonwoo pulled back for a moment, his eyes dark with lust as he looked up at you.

"Cum for me, princess," he growled, his fingers never slowing down. "I want to feel you fall apart around my tongue."

He dove back in, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he pushed you over the edge.

You cried out his name, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth. Wonwoo continued to lick and suck on you, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your orgasm. He finally pulled away, standing up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his eyes raking over your trembling body.

He spun you back around, pressing your back against the wall as he pinned your wrists above your head.

"But we're not done yet," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not finished with you yet, princess."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"I'm going to take you, hard and fast, against this wall," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "And you're going to take every inch of me like a good little slut."

He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your slick folds.

"Are you ready for me, princess?" he asked, his voice dripping with desire.

You nodded, your breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

"Please, Wonwoo," you begged, desperate to feel him inside you. "I need you."

With a growl, Wonwoo thrust into you in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled so completely.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned, his grip on your wrists tightening.

He pulled out almost completely, before slamming back into you again, hard. He set a relentless pace, his hips snapping against yours as he pounded into you with abandon.

"You feel so good around me," he grunted, his eyes locked on your face as he watched you come undone.

You clung to him, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove into you over and over again. His thrusts were rough and possessive, his need for you evident in every movement.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "You belong to me, princess."

He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he continued to claim you. He shifted slightly, angling his hips so that he hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice muffled against your lips. "Say you're mine."

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin there.

"Say it," he repeated, his teeth grazing against your pulse point. "I won't continue until you do."

He paused, his lips hovering just above your skin as he waited for you to speak.

"I'm yours," you finally gasped out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea. "I'm all yours, Wonwoo."

A feral grin spread across Wonwoo's face as he heard your words.

"That's my good girl," he purred, his grip on your wrists tightening once more.

He resumed his brutal pace, his hips slamming against yours with even more force than before.

"You belong to me, and no one else," he growled, his voice possessive and dominant. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He moved his free hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against it.

"I'm going to make you cum again," he promised, his voice rough with desire. "And I want you to scream my name when you do."

His movements were relentless, his cock pounding into you with an unyielding rhythm while his thumb worked your clit in a way that had you seeing stars.

"Cum for me, princess," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you clench around me again."

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he drove you closer and closer to the edge once more.

"I'm so close," you whimpered, your legs tightening around his waist as you felt yourself nearing your release.

Wonwoo's pace grew even faster, his own breathing growing ragged as he felt himself approaching his limit.

"Cum for me now," he growled, his voice strained with effort. "Let go, princess. I want to feel you come undone."

You cried out his name as you came, your body shuddering and spasming around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Wonwoo followed close behind, burying himself deep inside you as he reached his own climax with a guttural moan. He held you tightly against the wall, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

"Fuck," he panted, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "That was...intense."

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Finally, he pulled out and set you gently on the ground, his arms wrapping around you to keep you steady. Wonwoo's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he heard the noise.

"What was that?" he asked, his grip on you tightening protectively.

He quickly picked up your discarded clothes and helped you get dressed, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, moving in front of you as he approached the source of the noise.

Wonwoo noticed you reaching for your gun, and he let out a low growl of warning.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, his eyes fixed on the door to the warehouse. "If there's danger, I want you to stay back."

You smirk pointing your gun down to his foot. You pull the trigger shooting his foot quickly. Wonwoo let out a sharp cry of pain as the bullet hit his foot, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Damn it, princess," he cursed, clutching his injured foot as he shot you a glare. "What the hell was that for?"

You laugh looking at him “You’ll never be able to kill me wonwoo, never!”

Wonwoo winced as he hobbled over to a nearby crate, leaning against it for support.

"You're going to pay for that later," he grumbled, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

He watched as you laughed, a mixture of irritation and affection in his gaze.

“Goodbye wonwoo till the next time you get sent to kill me,”. Wonwoo rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but smile at your antics.

"Bye, you crazy woman," he said, waving you off with a mock salute. "Go on, get out of here before I strangle you myself."

You chuckled and blew him a kiss before dashing out of the warehouse, leaving him behind to nurse his wounded foot. He shook his head in exasperation, but a small smile played at the corners of his lips as he watched you go. Alone in the warehouse, Wonwoo let out a deep sigh and sank down onto the crate, gingerly examining his injured foot.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered, a mixture of annoyance and fondness in his voice.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse, and soon a group of Wonwoo's fellow gang members entered the room.

They froze when they saw their leader sitting there, nursing a wounded foot and looking thoroughly annoyed.

[ethereal-blossom]

Ikevil in an amusement park!

Includes general headcanons and romantic ones at the end.

General headcanons:

- Victor is the parent. He carries the heaviest and biggest backpack which is truly the emergency kit. Harry is showing withdrawal symptoms due to lack of sugar? Elbert forgot to put on sunscreen and is now at risk of looking like a walking lobster? You forgot your water bottle? No worries, Victor anticipated everything! He knows his beloved children so well.

- He walks with the map as well and if you split into groups, he becomes the one who you need to call if something happens. Also the one who plans where and when to meet, mostly at eating places so you can refill your stomaches together.

- William is the backup parent. He enjoys to mostly silently observe and is quick to notice the things like Harry being low on sugar and Elbert having forgotten to put on sunscreen. If you split up and it's time to meet but a group isn't back yet, his guesses of why are extremely accurate. Like hm, the ride Elbert and Alfons went to is fairly popular so the line must have been long, and isn't there a souvenir shop on its way here? Elbie must have gotten distracted by it.

- Elbert refuses to go in the big roller-coasters. He goes into visual focused rides and will often be seen in the souvenir stores. Does not care about the ridiculously expensive price tags and tires himself out by carrying so much bought stuff. If you happen to be someone who doesn't like roller coasters that much, Elbert is the one to hang around with and he'll surely buy you any souvenir you want.

- Alfons is everywhere and nowhere. One moment he is with Elbie telling him that the mouse ears aren't beautiful but overrated money grabbers, then he is joining Liam in thrilling roller coasters, and at times even Will shrugs when asked where he thinks Al is. Seriously, he has Victor panicking when it's time to go home and Al is nowhere to be found.

- Victor will bother/manipulate/pester/whatever works/does it really matter when you're that attractive Roger into using his ability to see if he can hear his beloved boys and robin from time to time.

- If you like to ride the wildest roller coasters, Liam is your guy. This man has no fear; only curiosity begged to be satisfied. Might actually get high on it and is tempted to use his ability to cut the line. It's his mission to ride the fastest and highest roller coasters this park has to offer.

- Some of the crown members are great at making friends in lines! Liam's enthusiasm is contagious and he's so easy to love. With his charisma and excitement, he easily starts a conversation which is needed with such long lines. Ellis is very gentle and caring, so when he sees someone needs help in the line or appears nervous he does what he can. Victor is a social butterfly with a joyful grin so that man will definitely start small talk. All three would entertain the kids who are in front or behind them if it's a long line, especially when the kids are getting annoying and the parents look tired. Victor is immediately in his element by performing magic tricks, Ellis would play with them, and Liam would start making the kids laugh with his acting. But this makes them immediately beloved by the people around them.

- Imagine Jude in the line with annoying kids who are bumping into him... The only reason he's there is because Victor promised him a good sum of money and he's either getting convinced by Ellis or you to go into rides or it was part of the deal with Victor, and then these kids keep bumping into his back. Doesn't yell at the children but sends a few nasty glances and let out some damn loud tch's directed to the parents who are too busy with their phones before he snaps. Will demand payment from the parents as compensation for this public disturbance.

- William will randomly walk up to people he sees are surpressing their desires to try a ride. Free Willam therapy sessions don't pause for no amusement park.

- Roger isn't interested in the visual rides; he doesn't find them exciting so you'll find him in roller coasters a lot. But also is a little bit like Victor and makes sure everyone stays hydrated and gets to rest when they need to. Like oh I see, the lil' lady wants to go to the next roller coaster even though her legs hurt from standing too long. He threatens to throw you over his shoulder if you don't comply, which he actually does and then sits you on a bench to treat you with a snack despite being a disobedient girl.

- Ellis, Victor, and William are everywhere too. They are in for every ride!

- Harry is the chillest. He mostly follows Liam and makes sure the curious cat takes a break every now and then. He doesn't join Liam in the extreme rides but will grab his Sherlock book and read while waiting. Will ask for a lot of sit breaks.

Romantical headcanons:

- William could not care less what rides you two are riding as long as you want to be in them. He has a fantastic time discovering which rides you prefer and will absolutely convince you to go into ones you want to but are also scared of. Same with finding snacks and good places to eat. It's a wonderful experience where you get to know each other even better, making this amusement trip feel weirdly intimate. I can see Will having a content and happy smile on for the entire day, and when you walk through the park together, I don't think he has his arm wrapped around you but he does have his hand on your farthest shoulder in a way that feels loving, supportive, and encouraging. When buying matching accessories, you both choose each an item after a minute of "What do you want, my little robin?" "I want what you want! " "Oh, what a coincidence. I want what you want" "... Well, I want what you want me to want-"

- It's so chill being with Harry. There are some rides that secretly excite him but he got to say, this amusement park is more amusing with you next to him. He'll complain sometimes about how you're dragging him through the park, but when you ask if that's really how he feels he'll say he doesn't mind (translation: he enjoys it). Whenever you see a food place and it sells something sweet, you two are on it! "Let's get matching accessoires!" "Whatever, if that's what you want" (translation: he's flustered). Harry would like to simply hold your hand and stroll through the park, talking about everything and nothing. So simple but so serene. On the way home you'll ask him how it was to explore the amusement park together to which he answers, "not bad." (translation: he ducking loved it.)

- It really doesn't matter how curious about a roller coaster Liam is, if you don't join him this clingy cat will not go in it either. Being around you calms down his curiosity for thrill a lot. So don't worry if you're not into thrill because there is still so much to be curious about! You'll not be bored for a single second and because of that, his touches are very versatile. One time he'll hold your hand to excitedly lead you to a cool souvenir shop, then he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders as you walk through the park, your waist when it's crowded, your arm during rides... Almost the entirety of your upper body will have been touched by him. Very much in a similar boat as Will when getting matches accessoires so you both choose an item each :)

- Nobody takes matching accessoires as seriously as Elbert. You'll have visited every. single. accessoire store at the end of the day. Your eyes could have lingered on a wristband for one second and your man goes "Do you think that's beautiful? It'll look beautiful on you. I will buy it-" It's so much worse when Alfons makes his cameo cause he'll point at anything and be like "now this, my dear Elbie, this is beautiful" all to tease you. Elbert enjoys going into the visual rides with you! And I bet you could convince him to go into the tamer roller coasters. Has a hand on your lower back the entire time (at one point you guys had too many bags and Elbert was ready to leave three behind purely so he could keep touching you).

- Now Alfons is turning this into a freaking game. He makes you chase him through the entire park, slightly out of your reach but you know he's there. Why he enjoys you stubbornly following him throughout the park? He doesn't even have a clear answer himself... or so he likes to think. But, Al leads you to all places he thinks you will enjoy and he always stay at a place long enough for you to find him and enjoy the ride, shop, café, or whatever he thought you'd like together. During the times Alfons and you walk side by side he'll place his hand on your back which will slowly move lower and lower. Another man who pretents like he doesn't care about matching accesoires but once he wears it he'll randomly touch it with a hard-to-read expression (cat pretending like he's not THAT attached to his owner). Guys I swear this is not me but I'm 99,9% Al will try to finger you in a ride at least once even if it's only to get a reaction out of you no but if a ride scares you he'll definitely try to distract you in whatever way works.

- "Is this ride going to be scary?" "I promise it's not, Lil lady." Spoiler alert: it was scary and now Roger is saying how cute you look with teary eyes. He's not a fan of visual rides but will go into them for you and you know what, turns out he quite likes them because of your reactions and how easy it is to touch your thighs. The type to put his arm around or behind you in roller coasters! He definitely checks up on your heartbeat regularly to see how nervous you are for a roller coaster. If he thinks you got peer pressured into riding a roller coaster he'll get you out of there. Now, Roger's hand is either in your back pocket, on your ass, your hips, or your lower back. Roger didn't think he'd be into matching accessoires but again finds himself quite liking something because it's you. Love makes things glitter.

- Jude will be like "tch, look at how these people are bunched up together and... Lil' birdie where do ya think ya standin'?" *Proceeds to wrap an arm around your hips to pull you into him*. Jude only goes into a ride when you go into it. Literally, he doesn't leave you alone and will follow you everywhere except the bathrooms. You're the only who makes this trip bearable. If another crown member tries to sit next to you in a ride, let alone a stranger, Jude is like I ain't on this ride for nothing except my woman. Move or give me everythin' that's on ya bank account. Especially if it's Victor that bill will be through the roof. Also another man who pretends to not care about matching accessoires but funny how you'd have to rip it off of his dead body. Jude would walk with his hand on your lower back and maybe on your hips or waist.

- Ellis will let you take the lead and often ask what you want to do next. As long as he gets to hold your hand, he's happy. Really, Ellis is going to hold your hand the entire time. Especially when it gets crowded you feel his grip tighten. You two have the biggest fun trying all of the food and you immediately make recommendations for the other guys. "I want what you want" (matching accessories version part 3). Please he'd look so cute in matching accessoires, having a mischievous smile on his face cause he definitely sees this as a way for other people to see you belong together. He feels slightly bad for letting his selfishness get the better of him but that melts like snow in the sun when he sees how happy you are. Also secretly enjoys when you get scared in a ride because he loves it makes you clingy and depending on him, and it's an excuse to hold you tight in his arms.

- If Victor doesn't have an arm around your shoulders he's holding your hand and you'll be skipping to the next ride. He's also very flexible in what you'll be doing but he does like the occasional thrill of a roller coaster! But your comfort is his number one priority. Victor loves to see you so carefree with a child-like spark in your eyes as you explore the park together and he'll do anything to protect it. One time you accidentally bumped into someone and when they turned around annoyed and ready to shoot with words, Victor went "whoopsie daisy! I am so clumsy. Please forgive me." And when you want to tell him he shouldn't have, Victor picks you up and twirls you around, kissing you on the nose and ask what you should do next, unless you have something naughty in mind...? What a dirty mind his darling has, he's obviously talking about eating snacks that'll make your teeth rot with the amount of sugar that's in it. Loves the idea of matching accesoires so much that he can't choose and approaches you with 12 different items; it's a live-or-die situation for him. He dealt with loneliness before he met you and so wearing matching accesoires is a physical sign you're connected. Plus, he loves giving and could not care less about the price tag.

[mymoshangthoughts]

something i think about with regards to og!shang qinghua

i totally think he smashed mobei jun's face in with the rock

like okay the scene plays out basically the same, except instead of thigh-hugging, the original goods was groveling and hiding and dodging and only BARELY managed to survive for long enough for mobei jun to faint

so here he is, surrounded by corpses and a fainted demon and theres this big ass rock over there and he's like "yeah, thats the pragmatic thing to do"

but see, airplane and the original goods both vastly over-estimated the ability of a rock to kill a demon lord. so yeah, mobei jun has a nasty broken nose and he wakes up feeling like death warmed over in the middle of the woods but he's alive (this is btw the exact reason that the system was willing to let airplane do it, bc it wasnt gonna kill mobei jun anyway and it was what the og goods did)

and he was JUST conscious enough to see the original goods bash his face in

so mobei jun is sitting there like "okay, yeah, so imma find that fucker and imma enslave him and then when he runs out of use to me, imma kill his ass" because he's angry enough right now that simply killing og!shang qinghua just does Not feel good enough

and their relationship over the years is basically a big game of cat and mouse with them trying to fuck each other over. mostly the original goods trying to kill mobei jun and mobei jun just like "no imma wait to kill him until AFTER ive had a thorough revenge but fuck he makes it tempting to kill him right now" and og!shang qinghua highkey actually reminds him of his uncle. they're both the two-faced type who can smile to your face and stab you in the back and he's sorta thinking "if i cant resist killing one stupid human until the opportune time, how am i going to not kill my uncle??"

and basically it's just like..... lowkey shizaya (drrr!) vibes between them? and look, mobei jun is Very satisfied when he finally kills that worm og!shang qinghua but he also feels a certain loss because even though theres srsly no love lost between them, the original goods was basically mobei jun's companion for longer than anyone else in his life (enemy? frenemy? rival????) and it's just a sort of weird empty feeling after he's dead

and i just like thinking about how Different their relationship was because i like thinking about all of the changes that airplane accidentally created because he really didnt know that much about their original relationship. og!shang qinghua was such a footnote in the novel that there really wasnt any time spent on "oh yeah, og!moshang has a super weird hateship and shang qinghua did backstab mobei jun but that wasnt actually NEW, og!shang qinghua tried to kill off the king of the north at least once a month or so"

anyway i think the distinctions in the relationships are important for moshang reasons, because airplane and og!shang qinghua ARE different people, so they had to have made different decisions over the years, and those differences are why mobei jun was very much in love with airplane and not in love with og!shang qinghua

(altho i do enjoy og!moshang, but i will die on the hill that their relationship is different and whatever love might exist between them would be different. my hcs might not represent accurately how og!moshang's relationship was canonically but i just think it's important to make those distinctions)

but all these thoughts lend themselves to "what if pidw!mobei jun met airplane!shang qinghua?" because look, if they really were collaborating for so many years, he would KNOW og!shang qinghua. and as such, it wouldnt take him long to be like "okay but you're seriously NOT shang qinghua tho?!?!" and i love his confusion. like i dont think he'd show up and be like "guh, shang qinghua, gotta kill that rat again", i think he'd show up and be like "......well thats definitely shang qinghua's skin but that sure as fuck isnt shang qinghua"

and look, i want the chaos of that.

pidw!mobei jun and svsss!mobei jun discussing why the fuck shang qinghua is a completely different person and coming to their own conclusions (also naturally realizing a thing or two about cucumber-bro bc thats the other big notable change between worlds. bing-mei is fine, pidw!mobei jun always know that bing-ge is secretly pathetic)

also potential for kidnapping? like pidw!mobei jun nabs airplane with the intention of learning just who the fuck he is. leaving absolutely no room for discussion bc he's determined to figure this shit out. or maybe he just approaches his other self directly. or fuck it, if he goes straight to bing-mei because he's like "okay this is above my pay grade, boss of this dimension will prolly have an idea of whats happening"

also double penetration with two mobei jun's and one airplane lmfao. look im a simple man with simple pleasures

altho on the note of og!shang qinghua, thinking about this diabolical fuck does have my inner villain fucker thoroughly entertained and i wanna think about au's with both airplane and og!shang qinghua in play

there's always the good ol' sibling au's (which will always make me scream to the fucking sky "why the fuck wasnt airplane given a NAME so that i dont have to make one up for him!!!"), those definitely have the appeal of i can keep airplane!shang qinghua's design the same

so lets go with.... shang jingqi (original flavor) and shang feiyu (airplane), for simplicities sake while i explore stupid au ideas lol

so lesseee shang feiyu is born as shang jingqi's twin but since qinghua is a courtesy name and he doesnt actually know og!shang qinghua's birth name, he just knows that ONE of them is supposed to become "shang qinghua" and get killed by mobei jun. and look, he tries really hard not to get attached to his twin. he's used to keeping emotional distance from family, this should be fine, easy even. his twin even has a sort of asshole personality. so if he just doesnt get attached to shang jingqi and just lets the og plot eat up his twin, everything will be just fine and he can live a peaceful life, right? RIGHT???

but ofc he gets attached. bc even tho shang jingqi has a shitty personality and might actually be the original shang qinghua who backstabbed mobei jun and deserved what he got--look, thats HIS treacherous asshole and shang feiyu is ATTACHED okay

so shang jingqi and shang feiyu BOTH wind up joining cang qiong because shang feiyu isn't gonna just leave his twin to die but also he doesnt wanna die so he's really trying to figure out a third option to figure out how the fuck to dodge this all shang-murderfest thing when one day his brother comes home from a mission like "so i might have murdered a demon lord with a rock??" and shang feiyu is going to FREAK OUT bc either that was mobei jun and he is Not Dead and Coming For Their Asses or it WASNT mobei jun and its someone who would make mobei jun Very Angry if was harmed and shang feiyu is ready to hug as many thighs as he needs to so that they can get out of this alive!!! but shang jingqi already has a bit of a murder-boner for mobei jun, even moreso when he realizes theres like Chemistry between mobei jun and his brother and just Nope. that aint happening.

shang feiyu: i am trying to keep you alive wiLL YOU PLZ STOP TRYING TO PISS OFF THE DEMON LORD?!

shang jingqi: and IM trying to protect your ass from demon cock, thank me later

shang feiyu: ?!?!?! WHAT DOES THAT WHAT

[ynmnrmt]

The book hits me in the chest. It doesn't hurt, not really, I don't suppose I can complain about this anyway since I always knew it might turn out like this.

"You do not get to do this to me!" says Rachel, all fiery, as she tackles me to the ground and sends a swooping, weightless sensation down my spine. My heart starts to beat out of control, in fear I expect. "Nobody gets to do this to me! What, did you think I was going to be your good girl?"

This is the wrong response for that teeth-clenched scorn, but I fumble out "Well, not that exactly." I don’t think there really was a right response there, it just makes her angrier. Her nails dig into my arms, it makes whatever nonsense I was going to say next catch in my throat. If she were anyone else I would be thinking of all the ways I could use my bugs to disable them or otherwise get them off me, but this is different, because it is Rachel.

"I fucking hate you, Taylor," she snarls, so close I can feel the heat of her breath in my mouth. "I fucking hate you."

"I don't hate you," I tell her, trying to suppress the tears.

Rachel slumps slightly. For some reason the feeling of her big, sinewy body on top of me makes me think of the time I had sex with Brian, although I don't know why. "No," she sighs, "I don't hate you either." My tears dry up instantly.

"I probably shouldn't be trying to use some stupid book to relate to you better," I confess, it was one of those situations where it would either make everything okay forever or completely ruin things.

"No, well, I probably overreacted, its the sort of thing you do, you – you nerd." Her grip on my arms gets a little looser, but she's still on top of me, weighing me down, my heart's still going like a drum. "There's just something about you that, ugh, you pissed me off so bad, I was about ready to bite you."

"Maybe you should." That just comes right out, she looks as surprised as that as I am. "I mean, this isn't from the book now, but it makes sense, if I did something that pissed you off that much then obviously you'd be tempted to respond that way, so, um, maybe you should. To show there’s no hard feelings. I wouldn't mind."

Her eyebrows narrow, again there's that wonderful swooping feeling where my legs turn to jelly. "This isn’t a trick, is it? You won't go running off and tell the others 'boo hoo, Bitch bit me'?"

"No! No, I would never, this can just be between us."

She grabs my right arm with both hands now, and raises it to her mouth, slowly and methodically as if she's waiting for me to object. Then she sinks her teeth into it, those hard points, her soft lips, I whimper. Then I gasp when she immediately releases me, the relief from a pain I didn’t really feel, and she asks "Are you okay? That wasn't, like, too much?"

"No!" I insist, again it just tumbles out of my mouth with no conscious thought, though I mean it very sincerely. "No, that was great, I mean, fine. I - I think I liked it."

"I, uh," Rachel looks wrong-footed in a way I've never seen her look before, and I yearn to reach out and caress her and hold her in my arms and tell her it's okay, she is my friend after all, but the way she's straddling me I cant get off the ground. I think I like that, too. "I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor. I know sometimes you piss me off, and then I get pissed off, but I don't want to hurt you, not really."

"You're not hurting me, Rachel," I say gently, still doing my best to get across how I want to hold her and caress her and everything. I smile up at her, carefully not not showing my teeth, even though I doubt she'd find that a threat to her dominant status. "Not in any serious way, you're not. In fact, maybe, maybe this could be a relatively healthy way of dealing with it, if I piss you off again. You can just take me aside and give me a little nip," and here she does, playfully, her front teeth pull at the skin of my arm and I wriggle with a deep and heartfelt satisfaction, "and I'll know exactly what you mean and then I'll know not do the thing that upset you in future."

She shakes my arm lightly, with a little "RR-rr", then adds "I don't know, Taylor." Suddenly I realise that yes, she's right to be concerned, this sounds like an incredibly abusive dynamic on the face of it even if from where I'm laying - still trapped between her thighs - it sounds absolutely perfect, and makes me glad we can be such good friends. "Because, the thing is, I'll probably end up biting you a lot."

"That's okay!" I definitely just let that fall out of me without thinking, but even after some consideration I conclude that yeah, it's absolutely fine.

"Just thinking about that book - I'm sorry, it's pissing me off all over again." The colour rises in her cheeks, I desperately hope she will work this out by biting me, maybe a little harder this time. For a moment there is a little struggle, I do not really want to get free of her grasp and she does not want to let me. "Seriously, what was your plan there? Were you going to," for a little moment, the words catch in her throat, "put a collar on me, and tow me around on a leash?" Oh God, that probably is what it would all have been leading up to, I'm about to messily sob out another apology when she says "How would you like it if I did that to you?"

How would I like that? Immediately my heart flutters as I imagine her strong fingers pulling the collar tight around my neck. Not too tight, I'm sure she wouldn't do that, just tight enough so I really feel it, usually I really don’t like those sorts of sensations but I’m mysteriously convinced this would be different. "I don’t know," I whisper, already feeling the tightness, my throat closed up further than I'm completely comfortable with. "Maybe we should try that."

Rachel says nothing, but she immediately gets off me, which is slightly disappointing, and goes rooting about in a chest of drawers. I cling on her elbow, to look through the drawers as well, to help, obviously I would help her do that, she's my friend. "Most of these are flea collars," she says apologetically, "and the chemicals on those would really mess up your," I flush a little, feeling her eyes on my throat, and then she realises what I'm doing and she flushes a little too, "you wouldn't want that, anyway."

"Oh, what about this one?" I say, and pull it out into the light. Its made in old green leather with brass studs, it looks quite classy. If it was black leather it would just look like something from a kinky bondage dungeon, which of course it isn't.

Here it is, a million times more exciting than I could possibly have imagined, as she brings the ends together under my chin. Oh dear, now I think I am showing her my teeth, but she doesn't seem to mind. "You need to say, if it's too tight," she warns me.

"I trust you," I say, it sounds stupid now I've said it, we've spent a few lovely bites establishing that. When she pulls it closed and buckles it on it's perfect, there is just the tiniest amount of pressure, the awareness that it is there and she has done this to me, but I can breathe comfortably and there's no awkwardness with the blood thundering in my jugular.

Rachel slips a finger through the ring on the collar, I don't even think she's very much taller than me but this jerks my head upward anyway. "Maybe we don't need a leash, maybe we could make it work like this," she says, so tenderly, her other hand grasps my arm again and she has me completely under her control, she might have a point. But then she lets me go and goes back in the drawers, and before long, there it is, she clips the end onto the collar and she officially has me leashed. "So," she declares, all boisterous again in a way that makes me weak at the knees, I like her so much and she's such a good friend, "what did your stupid fucking book say to do now?"

"I don't know," I say. "I haven't read it, I wanted to be sure you were okay with it before I seriously tried to use any of its ideas on you. I thought it would be incredibly disrespectful if I didn't do that."

Rachel's hard eyes turn liquid. With one hand holding the leash steady in place, her other strokes my cheek. I am so incredibly glad we are still friends, after all this, and suddenly I realise what it is, I'm not in control here, I have given her control and I've done it willingly and I feel good about it. Then she says "Give me a woof."

"Woof! Bark!" I say out loud, and drop to my knees, if there was any possible way that I could wag my tail I would do it now. Rachel laughs, I rub my muzzle, or rather my mouth, against her hand.

"Good girl," she intones, and for her to say that makes me feel so wonderful, I know how she feels about cutesy expressions like that, and to have her say it to me, so light-heartedly, it doesn't even matter how I feel about it, I am only glad I can make her happy.

"Did you think I was going to be your good girl?" I repeat her words back to her, I think we're at a point where that can be lighthearted - and it is, she laughs again, after having seen her so angry it is indescribably wonderful that she is so happy. I wish there was a special button I could press to do this for her, but then, I try and calm myself down, this is what it is to interact socially and to have a friend like Rachel. There isn't some simple solution for this, it is a constant ever-correcting ballet, showing her again and again that she is my friend and I trust her and I want her to be happy. Then she presses the button to retract the leash, and it jerks me upward out of my dog act, straight up against her. I worry I have overstepped a boundary, I can feel her heart throb in her chest, the taste of her breath in my mouth again. For some reason I want her to press the button again and drag me in closer. "Woof," I say again, not even sure what I mean by it.

"Yeah," she exults, so smug and satisfied I could melt right here, I would be a puddle on the floor if she wasn't practically holding me up. "Keep woofing for me."

"No, you'll have to train me," I have absolutely no idea where this has come from, but how bad could her training process possibly be? Her giving me treats, and telling me no? Oh no, I think I want her to train me to woof when she says more than anything else in the world. I want to woof for her, I want her to make me woof, and just as that too is about to slip out of me like an oyster suddenly she tilts her head slightly - Oh God, something gives way in my underwear, it doesn't seem like I've peed myself but that is the only possible explanation for how wet I suddenly feel – but instead of what I thought would happen there she draws me in close and throws my hair aside so she can give my ear a little nip. I squirm, my vision blurs, I never want it to end.

When she lets go I feel the urge to chase after her, as if she’s a stick thrown for me, a magnificent red-haired stick. Fumbling over the words, clearly brute-forcing out a sentiment that doesn’t quite come naturally but is clearly there, she tells me.“You taste good.”

"You feel good," I insist, unsure how to deal with that lovely compliment except by turning it straight back onto her. "And, if this is what's come of me getting that stupid book, I'm sort of glad I did." I just keep pressing the sore spots, don't I? No wonder she was tempted to bite me, and yes, now she does again, on my cheek, my ear, my shoulder, every time it makes me that little bit weaker in the knees.

“Pff! God, you have too much hair,” Rachel growls, when she spits out multiple tresses I see what she means. But once she’s gotten them out of the way she squeezes me between her teeth and I hope it leaves a mark, and then that turns into "I probably should have known you just wanted to be nice to me. For whatever stupid reason you have."

"I'm glad," oh God, I can feel myself starting to well up, it's just too much, "I'm glad I've got you, here, to tell me where I went wrong."

"Well,” she says, pondering over it, "probably no harm in pointing out that normally my dogs wouldn't be wearing clothes."

"Oh! You're right! Woof." I gladly raise my arms and Rachel lifts my shirt, I giggle when it has to go over the leash as well. As it comes free it knocks my glasses askew – I raise my hand to fix them, but Rachel’s doing that already. Then I undo my trousers and they fall down as if lubricated. Normally I'd feel incredibly vulnerable being in my underwear in front of someone fully clothed, and I do, but I also feel completely safe and strangely contented, if a little cold, just a little.

"Those too," Rachel inclines her head at me. If we weren't such good friends I'd have said her tone was permeated with a kind of hungry desire.

"I'm shy," I tease, it's not really a lie.

With one sharp motion she pulls me in close again, yes, I'm not cold any more, and as her teeth close gently on my neck I feel her reach up my back and fumble with my bra strap. I'm quite glad she didnt unhook it in one go, I'm enjoying the process and would like it to last as long as possible. Perhaps she gets that too, because when she has uncooked it she doesn't pull it off immediately, just stands there holding it open, and stops biting me to say with desperate awkward sincerity “You – are comfortable with this?”

“Yes!” Even the words are starting to sound like little barks, but it’s so incredibly, gloriously refreshing to be able to be completely honest with her – with anyone, although especially with her. Suddenly buying the book seems so stupid, stupider even than when I was worried it would make her never want to speak with me again. Why learn about dog psychology when you can just be the dog? “And I hope you’re comfortable with it, too,” I add quickly.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly baffled. But that just lasts for a moment, and then she smiles at me again, and it’s like the sun coming up. I shrink down in the face of all that warmth, my knees haven’t completely gone but something about having her tower over me seems so natural and wonderful, and then I hug her around her waist, feeling the dog hair on her t-shirt up against my cheek. She pets me and really shakes my head around as she does it, rougher than she was with me before, it makes me feel like part of the pack.

“I know what else a dog would do,” I say, slightly breathlessly.

“Yeah?” says Rachel – and then I scamper behind her, the leash laps around her legs, and I start sniffing. This probably would be a bit strange in any other circumstances, but right now, I’m basically just saying hello. Oh God, that’s it, her wonderful smell, wet dog and pine needles and that little tang of her sweat. A dog probably wouldn’t have their hands up on her hips to do this, but I don’t think that matters.

“Your jeans fit really well,” I tell her. It’s quite hard not to notice.

“Thanks. They’re from, uh, Goodwill.” I keep sniffing at them, I’m fairly sure she had them on yesterday too, which is good, she’s started to permeate them a bit, I’m smelling her and not just her clothes. I end up enjoying the experience so much that before I know it my face is resting on the denim, and I feel her underneath it, all that muscle but still so soft.

“Taylor…”

I jerk out of this stonewashed blue reverie. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, if you were a dog I’d say you were being very friendly.”

“Well, good.”

“I bet your book didn’t even think of this.” Then I pad back around in front of her, and look up obediently. For a moment, her face tightens up – then she lets out a burst of uncontrollable laughter, and I’m really glad to see her suddenly get so loose and carefree like this. This is exactly the result I had hoped to get. She gets down with me, onto one knee, and says “Sorry,” as she fusses my hair, I close my eyes and lean into it, “you looked really funny.” Would that be wounding, in some universe? It’s hard to see how, objectively crawling around on the floor being a dog does seem quite funny.

“Woof,” I say. Rachel immediately tenses up with a suppressed giggle. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you training me.”

“This isn’t so much training you, it’s more like I tell you what to do and you do it.” When Rachel says this, I panic slightly at the thought I’m doing it wrong. She fusses my hair with both hands, which does reassure me. “No, it’s okay. Oh, I think I might have something for this.”

Rachel goes back to her drawer, I follow again, although down on all fours this time I can’t see what she’s after.

“I got given this,” she explains, “I’d never actually use it for training dogs, but now seems like the perfect time.” And she spritzes me with a squirt bottle, square in the face. I squeal, I should probably try to communicate dismay but really I’m just laughing. I go to back away, but since that’s absolutely the last thing I could possibly want I simply drop to the ground. Rachel stands across me, spraying me over and over, and as I look up at her square face and broken nose from below, as well as catch a little splash of her bare tummy under her shirt, I realise what I’ve been feeling all this time – it’s jealousy, that’s it, I’ve been feeling jealous of how heartbreakingly beautiful she is. “Bad girl! Bad girl!”

“Woof! Bark!” I get slightly more frantic as she coats my face with moisture, without even meaning to I grip her legs, to make absolutely sure I don’t somehow fall away. Finally, at long last, Rachel really seems to be enjoying herself, and I try not to feel too pleased with myself for having brought that about – I don’t care anyway, not really, the more important thing is the connection I’ve made with her. Not too long ago I wouldn’t even have thought something like that was possible.

The door handle rattles, it startles me but I am very secure where I am here. Rachel jumps a little too. Suddenly Lisa is framed in the doorway, absolutely astounded, her eyes flickering back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” she asks.

Rachel hesitates. I understand that all too well, it seemed so obvious and natural between the two of us, but having to explain it to someone else is strange and awkward. So I pick up the cue, and explain to Lisa, quite simply, “She’s making me wet!”

i'll say it. if wildbow wasn't a fucking coward he'd have made Taylor trying to train Rachel into being a Good Dog a central plot point but instead we were just straight up robbed and this book never comes up again

[galadrieljones]

Possession (Rook x Emmrich)

❤️ Dragon Age | Emmrook | Solavellan | one-shot | Mature ❤️

word count: 7,460 Summary: In the Lighthouse, Rook and Emmrich hunt through some of Solas's old records from his time with the Inquisition. What they find brings them closer together, as they embark on a romantic scavenger hunt through memories of the past.

Read here, or at AO3 💫

Possession

JOLENE MERCAR, also known as Rook, was stalemated outside the door of a certain generous and compassionate necromancer. It was late at night. Though time seemed to pass strangely here in the Fade, whenever she was inside the Lighthouse, she could always sort of tell what part of the day it was. Like an enchantment, or an illusion. She knocked on the door.

Emmrich answered. He was very tall, and when he saw her in all of her tiny elven glory, he smiled. He was genuinely surprised to see her, but seemingly very pleased. "Rook," he said. "What a nice surprise."

"Hello, Emmrich," she said, feeling a little stupid. She had her hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels as she spoke. "I was just...popping by. I discovered something, here in the Lighthouse, a hidden room. It belonged to Solas. It's filled with a bunch of notebooks. Diaries and things. Records, lots of them dated back to when he was in the Inquisition. I was going to go through them on my own, see if we could learn anything, but I suddenly felt the urge for company. I thought you might find it all interesting, as an expert on the Fade. You know, like he is."

Emmrich considered. Rook had long, dark hair, which she sometimes wore in a loose braid over her shoulder, but that night, it just fell to the small of her back, like a curtain. Her eyes were light as candles, and he liked her. Something about her forward nature truly intrigued him, and though he did not entirely understand what she might see in him, she came by often, looking for wisdom. She was young, and he could tell that she felt...out of place in all this. In any case, she had never come to him so late at night before. This was new. The promise of what lie ahead, it was very tempting, despite his prevailing sense of discipline and stoicism. He said to her, "I believe I would find that interesting. Thank you, Rook, for thinking of me. Please, come in. Just let me grab some things, and let's be on our way."

As she stood there, demurely, taking stock of Emmrich's vast and detailed inventory, the books and the skulls and the bizarre crystals, she felt excited, happy for the first time since all this began. It was a pretty picture, this place, so strange and haunted, and yet the whimsy, it was like wrapping herself in a warm scarf. Rook was not a mage, and she had not grown up with such displays of magical possibility. Magic was utilitarian where she was from, or else it was devious. But Emmrich, in all of his sparkling oddity, could make even the littlest, most mundane things feel new and awake. Rook often tried to remind herself that, no matter how bad things get, it's the little things in life that truly set you free.

In the music room, Emmrich was delighted by the presence of a piano in the Lighthouse. He honed through a couple of chords, but it sounded like the gloomier depths of the Necropolis. "It's woefully out of tune," he said. "I can come back in the morning, perhaps, make it sing once more."

"You play the piano?" said Rook, feeling wistful. She had picked the lid up off a wooden box, which she had stacked earlier near the high window. Light seemed to flood in, even though it was after ten.

"My skills are a bit lapsed," said Emmrich. "But I trained for many years in my youth. Music is a language all its own. I've found that certain spirits communicate more readily through the wonders of melody."

"Perhaps that's why Solas plays?"

He smiled. "Perhaps."

Rook sat down on a dusty old hope chest. It seemed made of both wood and gold at the same time, and this weirdness with textiles was something that Solas seemed drawn to. Metals that looked like wood, woods that looked like metal. She watched the little particles floating around in the bars of light from the window as she gathered a stack of leather bound notebooks. There were many books and records and things that looked sort of official, like things you might need at some sort of tribunal, but these ones were filled, front to back with what seemed like poetry, math, journal entries, all in Solas's handwriting. It was elegant but rushed. "Some of these notebooks are just filled with what look like complicated arithmetic."

"May I?" said Emmrich. He pulled up the bench from the piano, sat beside Rook at the window. Rook handed him a notebook. He studied the markings, which were strange, but some oddly familiar. "As the maker of the Veil, it would make sense for Solas to be adept at theoretical and applied physics. Some of these formulas are familiar to me and my studies. Others are...well. They are like nothing I've ever seen before."

"He doodles a lot. See?" She showed him the pages of another notebook. This one was more of a sketchbook, she gathered. There were a great many drawings. Mostly faces and animals, sketched out in pencil, loose with an absentminded touch. "This one is cute. Look. A nug."

"That is very amusing."

"If we don't find anything good here, we can always go back to the office," she said. "It's through the door, but it's sort of gloomy. I just brought some of the boxes out here so that we could sit in the light."

"Yes, the light," said Emmrich, studying the windows. "I wonder if the enchantment lives inside, outside, or in the glass itself?"

"In any case, it's pretty," said Rook.

"I agree."

She showed him another sketch, this one more detailed than the others. "Look at this one. Do you recognize this place?" 

It was a castle, or a fortress, misty, and planted deep in a glorious mountain scape. Emmrich studied it closely. He did recognize it, but he was having a difficult time placing it in his memory. "It says right here, Terasylan'Telas. Do you speak elven, Rook?"

"Nope," she said. "My knowledge ends at Andaran Atishan. Mostly."

"Hmm. You know, now that I think of it, I believe this might be Skyhold," he said. 

"Skyhold?"

"The legendary fortress of the Inquisition. It's located somewhere in the Frostback Mountain range, which forms the natural border between the southern Kingdoms of Ferelden and Orlais."

"Ferelden and Orlais," said Rook. "Geez. That's far. Have you ever been?"

"Never," he said. "Until I met you, I never once left Nevarra. Now, here I am, living in an ancient elven sanctuary in the Fade. Such intrigue you bring to my life, Rook."

She blushed a little, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. "He seems attached to this place," said Rook, turning the pages of the notebook, slowly. There were several more sketches of the castle, from multiple angles, the insides and outsides. "He seems to know it well." 

"Who is this?" said Emmrich. He pointed to a figure, sketched out in the doorway to what appeared to be some sort of rotunda. The form was female, somewhat tall, created with great care, but it was unfinished.

"Who knows," said Rook. "A mystery woman? After this, it's just tons and tons of butterfly sketches. All kinds of them. Guess he's a fan of bugs."

"Let's delegate a little," he said. "Hand me one of those notebooks, if you please."

She obliged. He straightened up and opened the notebook in his lap. "You continue with the sketchbook, and I will investigate this here."

"What is that one?"

"It looks to be some sort of diary," said Emmrich. "Entries, with dates from twelve years back. I'll let you know if I find anything of interest."

"Same here."

They sat for a while, reading. At some point, Rook got antsy and scooched off the hope chest to sit on the floor. She flipped through the pages of the sketchbook, taken with the minute and lovely details of Solas's drawings. After the butterflies, the pages began to fill with the shapes of people, actual people with detailed, unique faces and expressions, which led Rook to believe that they were real. His friends, perhaps? There was a study of a young man with an enormous hat, a tall elven woman with short hair eating a cookie, a human shield maiden reading a book beneath a tree, and a great, Qunari warrior playing chess. At some point, she came across somebody familiar, but the hair had changed. She recognized him from Minrathous. It was Dorian Pavus, holding a skull near a candle. This awakened something strange inside her, like an eclipse. Late in the book, there was a sketch of Varric, situated from the side. He was holding a flagon, sitting in a tavern somewhere, and he looked pensive. Rook almost said something to Emmrich about it, but she kept it inside. She wasn't sure why. It just felt like opening a can of big, fat worms, which she wasn't ready to open yet.

But then. "Very interesting," said Emmrich. "Very interesting indeed."

"Did you find something?"

"I'm not entirely sure," said Emmrich. "There's a fair bit of elven in here, which I do not understand. But not all of it. This, here, it is written mostly in the common language. It appears to be a prose poem? A ballad of some sort."

"What's it about?"

"Well, as it is a ballad, which means it is about love."

"A love poem? By the Dread Wolf?"

"Come here, Rook. Have a look at this."

She got up from the hardwood floor and went and sat down next to Emmrich on the piano bench. He was big beside her, and she was temporarily taken by his scent. Like rosemary, subtle. His clothing was simple tonight, she thought, unadorned. Just a cream collared shirt, seemed made of cotton, very soft, well-tailored, and expensive. He opened the notebook between them, so that she could follow along. "Listen," he said. He pointed to the page in question and read aloud, solemnly and with great care. As he spoke, with such a soft gravitas, the world around her seemed to change:

Light gathers on the sea, where we sit on the pier. It approaches and folds beside you like an envelope. I do not know how it folds, but it seems to anyway.  It disregards me entirely. On this day in Val Royeaux, as we watch the seamen mooring their ships,  you whisper, "What is that, vhenan?" You speak of a white bird, which has landed on a barrel. "Some sort of egret," I say. I can tell that you already knew that. You just like to ask questions, and you think it's funny. The word "egret," you say, sounds funny in my mouth.  The light finds you here. It finds your eyes here. It disregards me entirely, The light. I could not have made it any more beautiful myself.  It has a mind of its own as it touches you. And you find me, ara avise'ain.

The room was silent, but for the tense ticking of a clock somewhere.

"What a wonderful, if not monumental relic," said Emmrich, his heart stayed. "I am taken aback by this. I should like to read it again and again. What do you think, Rook?"

Rook shook herself out of a deep but ethereal trance then. It felt like something was wrong with her. She realized right then that she had leaned in a little close, the whole time he'd been reading. Her cheek, it brushed against the soft fabric at his shoulder. He did not seem bothered. He seemed very comfortable there beside her.

"I think..." she said, trailing off. "I think...it's just...so erotic."

This seemed to intrigue him greatly. "Erotic?" he said. "Quite the interpretation, Rook. You speak of his use of light, perhaps?"

"Yeah," she said. "How it's always folding and...touching the water, touching her. The mention, too, of the word egret, and how it sounds in his mouth. It just calls to mind their...intimacy. Something was going on here."

"Very good," said Emmrich. "I do agree. It seems that perhaps the Dread Wolf may have taken a secret lover during his time with Inquisition."

"Perhaps the woman that he drew? The one in the doorway of the rotunda?"

"Perhaps."

"Ara avise'ain," she said. "Are there any other uses of this word?"

"Hmm," said Emmrich. He flipped forward a few pages. There was a great deal of elven here. It was sort of like fishing for diamonds through a deft and elegant swamp. But he caught on something, quickly, then studied. He gave her the notebook. "Here. Read this, Rook."

She stared at the poem. She tried to concentrate, but then, she felt him nudge her gently in the shoulder with his own.

She sort of jumped. "What's wrong?" 

"Read it aloud, if you please," he said, softly. "I'd like to hear it in your voice. It is so much more meaningful that way."

"Oh," she said. "Sure. Here goes." She cleared her throat.

I knocked, wondering if you had forgotten. You had not. You were braiding your hair. You said, "I was worried." Vhenan, who worries. Sometimes I feel like a star, which has already died. You say to me, "Sleep here." You invite me inside.  Where it is safe. A nest. Maybe here? You bring me in with both hands. I take off your dress. Why can't I go home, avise'ain? Where the candles flicker to death, withholding, and there are only teeth. 

"Shit," said Rook.

"I echo the sentiment," said Emmrich.

"This is really...wow. I wasn't expecting this," she said. "Only teeth? Fuck."

"I am concerned about the metaphor," said Emmrich. "It does not bode well for the Dread Wolf."

"I wish I knew what that word meant," she said. " Avise'ain. I know what vhenan means. It's like, an elven term of endearment. It means my heart. Or something."

"I wonder if, perhaps, Bellara, or Davrin could help us with the elven."

"That's a good idea," she said. "But Bellara's asleep. She was up late last night, tweaking the eluvian. Told me she wanted to turn in early."

"Then Davrin it is," said Emmrich. They set off.

When they found Davrin, he was lying flat on his back, on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling while Assan, confused, licked his palm.

"Davrin?" 

"Hello, Rook."

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?"

He turned his head to see them. They stood just inside the entryway. There were stacks of old books on the table, the wooden carvings lined up. Davrin kept a very nice space. He was neat and discerning, but he was not a minimalist.

"Emmrich?" he said. It was like a light turning on. "Wait. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine," reassured Emmrich. "But, we are wondering the same of you. Are you often taken with lying on the floor, Davrin?"

"Not at all," said Davrin. He got to his feet, slowly, like he was drunk. He wasn't drunk. He was just...exhausted? "Assan won't sleep. I thought, maybe if I lie here on the floor, he'd doze off next to me. But. No dice."

"Aw, poor Assan," said Rook, patting the sweet creature on his feathered head.

"Poor Assan?" said Davrin. "How about poor me?"

"Poor you," said Rook. 

He smiled. Assan squawked. "What are you guys doing here? Isn't it kind of late?"

"A little," said Rook.

"We require your assistance with the elven language. How are you with translation, Davrin?"

"Pretty good," he said. "What's going on?"

"We found some of Solas's old records, in a secret room, next to the library," Emmrich continued. "They are from his time with the Inquisition. It's quite interesting. A good deal of it is written in elven, however, and neither Rook nor I speak the language."

"Solas is an ancient elf," said Davrin. "I never really learned that dialect. I know a little, but it's rare."

"Can you try?" said Rook.

Davrin sighed. He scratched at the back of his head and then plopped down into the armchair by the fire. "Have a seat," he said. "Let me see."

Emmrich handed Davrin the open notebook, the one with the poetry, and then he and Rook sat down on the floor, like children. Assan watched the whole interaction, rapt and wide awake as Davrin took to studying the elven.

"These poems here are written in the common tongue," said Emmrich. "But there is an elven word used multiple times. Avise'ain. It perplexes us."

"Can you tell us what it means?" said Rook.

"Holy shit," said Davrin, reading the poem about the pier, and the egret. He read it multiple times. Then he looked at Rook, his face screwed up like he'd seen a ghost. "Do you know who he wrote this for?"

"No, we don't," said Rook.

He made a low whistle. "This shit is deep."

"What does it mean?" said Rook, urging him back to the task at hand. " Avise'ain?"

"Right," said Davrin. "Well, this word isn't something I've seen before. But it's not ancient elven. It's contemporary. See this? The suffix, -ain , is a diminutive. It means little, or petite. Avise is a form of the word ise, which means fire. Avise means flame. Avise'ain means—"

"Little flame," said Rook. "Like, a pet name maybe?"

"That's exactly what it is," said Davrin. "And see this here? Here, he uses the possessive, ara, which means my. My little flame. Whoever this was, they were definitely...well, I think you know."

"I believe the correct term is intimate, Davrin. No need to be coy."

Davrin almost started laughing. "Touche. Does seem a little strange though, speculating about the sex life of an ancient elven god."

"Solas didn't present himself as a god to the Inquisition," said Rook. "He didn't even tell them he was an ancient elf. According to Varric, he just presented as an apostate. He said he was a fade mage, same as you, Emmrich."

"That inspires my curiosity, to be sure," he said.

Davrin flipped through the book some more, studying the handwriting. "All this other stuff is ancient," said Davrin. "Except for this one word, avise'ain, which is in common elven. Why?"

"Perhaps the woman to whom he assigned his pet name is not an ancient elf," said Emmrich. "If she doesn't speak the dialect, it would make little sense for him to use it."

"So she's a regular elf? Or...a new elf? Like me and Davrin?" said Rook.

"Yes, and it's also likely that she speaks the common dialect."

"So, she's Dalish," said Davrin. 

"Are you sure you can't read any of this other stuff?" said Rook. "These poems and entries. You can't read the ancient elven? Even a little?"

Davrin squinted at the pages in deep concentration, which seemed to lure Assan closer to his side. He sidled up to Davrin's chair and placed his head in his lap. Davrin stroked the beast's neck absentmindedly, a darling display. "Hmm," he said.

"Hmm?" said Rook.

"I can't translate this word for word," he said. "That's for sure. I just don't know the vocabulary. But elven, it's more than just a language. It's like a feeling. If you're an elf, that is. Especially this old stuff. Shit, it's a little like music. Rook, even though you don't know how to speak it, I bet if you read this, and you focused really hard, like really hard, you would understand what I'm talking about."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"You can sense the story," he said. "Solas, in his words, is telling a story. I can see it in my mind's eye, like...ancestral memory."

"I don't know how I feel about sharing ancestral memories with Solas," said Rook.

"Well, I think we do. Whether we like it or not." He handed her the book. "Here. Just take a look."

She looked at Davrin, a little apprehensive. She had never been very elfy. Sort of like self-preservation in Tevinter. In fact, in her quotidian life, before all this, it was typical for her to simply forget what she was half the time. When it struck her, and she remembered, it was always in these horrible moments of existential unease. On the street corners. On the docks. She had considered leaving Minrathous thousands of times before her twenty-fifth birthday, for thousands of reasons. But she never had anywhere to go. Until now, of course.

Suddenly she felt Emmrich's hand, big and soft on her shoulder. He squeezed once, then lowered his mouth, close to her ear. He said, "You can do it, Rook. I believe in you. Just give it a whirl."

She felt very hot all of a sudden, in her cheeks, and it zinged straight back to her eartips. But still, it was comforting. He was such a comforting presence, calming all her stupid bullshit with one single, casual touch. She said, "Okay. I'll try."

She picked up the book. The words made little sense. As Davrin had said, even for elven, it was out of whack, bizarrely tuned, as if invented on the spot. But then, after a moment, she felt a kind of warm, snowy sensation in the back of her brain. It was like fuzz, and then it spread, and it came into focus. Like a crystal. It spun there, at the center of her brain. She looked up at Emmrich, and she said, "I felt something."

"Wonderful," said Emmrich. "What did you feel?"

"This is a story," she said, tapping her finger to the words. "It's about rooftops, am I right?" She looked to Davrin.

"Yes," he said. "Rooftops, mountains. Her hair, like, it's everywhere, right? Did you get that?"

"I did. Maybe that means it's windy?" 

"Good call. Also, there's a tear in the sky. He compares it to an eye, watching them. Like they're never alone. But he wants her. Bad. He wants to be free, to be with her."

"Emmrich," said Rook, serious now.

"Yes? I must say. This is quite entertaining, you two."

"You've read the Inquisition folklore. Are you sure you never saw any references to a romance?"

"I have only read the canonical texts," he said, "which, beyond names and basic formalities, in no way addresses any interpersonal aspect of the people involved. So, no."

"You should go talk to Harding," said Davrin. "She was in the Inquisition. She might know."

"Oh my gosh," said Rook. "You're right."

"You're also in luck," said Emmrich, voice low, his hands clasped in front of him, very debonair. He nodded toward Assan, who had fallen asleep, his head heavy in Davrin's lap, very still, eyes closed, breathing even. "It seems our discussion of ancient elven poetry lulled your young griffon here right to sleep."

Davrin surveyed the situation, dropped his head back and blinked up at the ceiling. "Guess I should get comfortable."

"We'll see you in the morning," said Rook, very eager. Emmrich had got to his feet first, extended a hand to her. She took it, stood tall, and dusted herself off. "Thank you for your help, Davrin. That was...interesting."

"Any time," he said.

As they crossed the great courtyard in the middle of the night, they both looked up to the deep, dark Fade sky at the same exact time. There was a shooting star, or, that's what it looked like. It was big and molten, like a long column of light which then simply disappeared from existence. This dazzled Rook, but it also unnerved her. She had never really been outside before when the Lighthouse went dark. She'd had no idea that there were stars here.

"This place shall never cease to amaze me," said Emmrich, in wonderment. "Stars and night. The chattering sounds of inexplicable nature. We are floating on a cloud, it seems, and yet, there are butterflies and opossums. I can sense them in the underbrush. Solas made this place comfortable many years ago. He wanted his people to feel at home here."

"When we first arrived," said Rook, "the place was falling apart. I think Solas was living here, before the ritual, but it feels like there are parts of the castle he never went to, like he lived in two, maybe three of the rooms tops. Everywhere else, he just left it sealed away. Like a tomb."

"The bachelor pad of a god is sad indeed," said Emmrich. "Particularly if he is on the wrong side of love. Let us continue our scavenger hunt, Rook. I am enjoying this evening immensely. Thank you for asking me to accompany you on your search tonight."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. He held out his arm to her then, an unexpected gesture, but she took it anyway. Even though she was not afraid of the dark, she was hesitant, walking through the Fade like this. She was not used to such big, cold, and cosmic magic. 

Emmrich sensed this, as he so often did. "Do not fear this place, dear Rook," he said. "Allow it to become familiar, and it will embrace you, as a home."

They started toward Harding's. They could see the light from her lantern, a long, golden bar at the bottom of the door. "Is that what you do?" said Rook.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Like a scent on the breeze. I will not forget it for all my years."

When they got to Harding's door, it was like she had seen them coming. She stayed up late.

"Rook?" she said. "Is that you?"

"It is," she said. "It's me, and Emmrich. Are you decent?"

"Sure am," said Lace. She opened the door, seeming delighted. She was wearing red pajamas with her hair in a braid and holding a cup of tea. "What brings you two around so late at night?"

Emmrich smiled, his face going a little crinkly. "We won't take up much of your time, Lace. We just have a few questions for you, concerning your time in the Inquisition. May we come in?"

"Definitely," she said, holding the door wide open and standing back to give them room. As she shut the door behind them, Rook noticed the remnants of some sort of art project. There were what appeared to be curtains, draped over a table, and several spools of colorful thread. Harding seemed to be practicing her embroidery.

"I love the curtains," said Rook.

"Oh, thank you. I'm just trying to make this place feel a little more like home. You know?" 

Emmrich glanced at Rook, very knowing.

"So," said Lace. "You guys wanna talk about the Inquisition? What did you wanna know?"

"We have been scouring some of Solas's old records," said Emmrich. "Rook found a secret room inside, near the library. It's full of old notebooks and things. Much of it dated back to Solas's time with the Inquisition."

"Interesting," said Harding. "Find anything good?"

"Yes," said Rook, a little anxious. "We found love poems."

"Love poems?" said Harding, sort of giggling. "Really? Wow. I mean, I knew Solas was an artist, but a writer, too? Wow."

"Wow, indeed," said Emmrich. "We came here tonight to ask whether you know anything about a woman that Solas might have been seeing at the time. Someone in the Inquisition, perhaps? She was likely a Dalish elf."

There was a long pause then, in which Lace stared at them both as if she thought they might be on drugs. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, we aren't," said Rook. "The stuff he wrote. It was really...passionate. Do you know anything about it?"

"Uh, yeah. I do," said Lace.

"Really?" said Emmrich. "Who was it? The woman, we mean?"

"Inquisitor Lavellan."

It was like a boulder, falling off a cliff.

"The Inquisitor?" said Rook. 

"Oh, my dear," said Emmrich. "This is a surprise."

Lace shrugged, like it was just any other factoid. "I'm surprised you guys don't know. I guess I just assumed that everybody did. It was all over the tabloids, at least down south. People can't get enough of that shit. Sene's love life has been under scrutiny for years. It really pisses her off, but I mean, what can you do? Idle minds, am I right?"

Rook opened the notebook, which she'd had tucked under her arm. She showed Lace the poems. She said, "He loved her. A lot. We're pretty sure that everything in here, at least in this notebook, is all about her. It's full of poems and stories. What happened between them?"

"Solas and Sene were crazy in love," said Lace, sipping her tea, reminiscing. "Like I said, it was no secret. They were great together. Inseparable. They used to have picnics on the battlements at Skyhold, talk for hours on the rooftops at Haven. He would braid her hair before they went out into the field. It was just...romantic. I used to talk to them all the time, when we would deploy to different regions, trying to bring people and their factions into the Inquisition. She would sit and watch him paint his frescoes, and he made her these butterflies out of his magic, like little presents. Hundreds of them, green and glowy, all the time. Everywhere. They would just fly around the rotunda, and the garden, like part of the decor. It was so dreamy and romantic."

"Green, glowy butterflies?" said Rook. "There's a bunch of them here, flitting about in the bushes. I've seen tons of them, flying around the Crossroads, too."

"Yup," said Lace. "Those are them. I'm not surprised that she's left her mark here. The way Solas looked at her, it was so...intense. I thought he was gonna ask her to marry him. It was really serious. And, like I said, everybody knew. They were just...Sene and Solas. Solas and Sene. The tabloids used to refer to Sene as the Tall Red Elf and Solas as the Tall Elven Warrior at her Side. Anyway, be careful, Rook. This is...kind of a long story, and Sene is a close friend of mine. She practically lived at my house for like a year once, down in the Hinterlands. I'll tell you stuff, but like, keep it clean. I'm not getting into the weeds here, okay?"

Rook fell silent. She did not really know much about Inquisitor Lavellan, or the Inquisition at all. It was not a common topic of discussion in Tevinter. And yet, even still, she was a bit of a celebrity, mainly with the Chantry, as the Herald of Andraste. They talked about her all the time in the holy newsletters and things like that. Debates over whether her claims to prophesy were legitimate, or whether she even believed them herself, seeing as she was an elf. Rook knew that she was Dalish, but she hadn't really put it together, until now.

"We promise to be civilized in our questioning," said Emmrich, taking over. "We will of course respect your loyalties to Inquisitor Lavellan. But please forgive me, as I must ask. You make it sound like he was over the moon for her, and yet, you said he left? Why?"

"At the time," she said, "Sene didn't know. None of us did. Nobody knew that he was the Dread Wolf. We just thought he was some really powerful apostate. After we killed Corypheus, he just...left. She was devastated, but at some point, she moved on. Or, she tried to. She was in another pretty serious relationship when Solas finally showed himself again two years later, during the Exalted Council in Halamshiral. He explained everything, that he was the Dread Wolf, that he wanted to bring down the Veil, that he still loved her, but that he had to go, and he would not take her with him. That was important. Anyway, based on what Sene told me, I think he originally intended to just use the Inquisition, like a pawn, to help him further his plans. But it didn't go so hot. He accidentally fell in love. He made friends, too. Kind of a huge, fantastic failure...I guess."

"So it was after the Exalted Council," said Rook. "That's when they last saw each other?

"In person, yeah," said Lace.

"What do you mean in person?" said Emmrich.

"Solas is a dreamer," said Lace, taken with the thought. "Rook knows. He can walk in peoples' dreams. As far as I know, he's visited her, quite a lot, over the past ten years. Where they stood at any given time, it was sort of on and off, but it was consistent, to some degree."

"Does he still love her?" said Emmrich, seeming desperately curious. Too tall, he was nearly hunched in half, trying to lean into their conversation. 

"Probably," said Lace, her voice soft all of a sudden. She became wistful. She looked away, toward the window. "They were special. They meant everything to one another. It was the kind of love that you aspire to, you know? And I mean, she still loves him. That, I know for sure. Sene went through a couple different men, trying to move on. But despite both of them being great guys, neither of them stuck, not like he did."

"Which men?"

Lace sighed, setting down her mug on the table next to the curtains. "This is where I call it a night. I'm not getting into all that. You're gonna have to read about it in the tabloids like everyone else."

Emmrich seemed to be thinking about this in a practical manner. "We can probably find them in the Magisterial Library of Minrathous. I'm sure they keep records of every tabloid and newspaper in Thedas, going back at least 100 years."

"Or, you know," said Lace. "I guess you could just ask Inquisitor Lavellan, herself. I'm sure you'll meet her. Soon."

"I will?" said Rook.

Lace shrugged again. She was doing that a lot. Like it was all just old hat to her. "Sene is close to Morrigan," she said. "And she also has Lady Nightingale, the best Spymaster in all of Thedas. I guarantee that she knows all about this by now, everything that's happened. And she'll also know, too, that you're the one leading the charge here, Rook. She'll know that Solas is trapped in the Fade, and that you're the only one who can talk to him. So, of course, she's gonna wanna meet you. Probably soon. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if, when you go to meet Morrigan at the Cobbled Swan in a couple days, she'll be there, too. Then again, who knows? She's got her hands full. Given everything my ma said in her last letter, the south is...under siege. There's a bad fight there, and lots of Blight. All hands on deck." Harding looked down into her tea, pensive, and then she looked at the floor. "I'm okay," she said, to no one. 

"Is your mother safe?" said Emmrich, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, like she was terribly relieved that he asked.

"I think so," she said. "She went to Skyhold, with a lot of other people. I'm pretty sure that's where Sene is. Or, she goes back and forth a lot, with her Commander. Cullen. It's become like, a sanctuary. Like what this place used to be."

"Harding," said Rook. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I should have asked you about this earlier."

"It's okay, Rook," she said, smiling once more. "I get it. We have our hands full up here, too."

Emmrich straightened up then, and something about his massive height seemed to change the atmosphere. He seemed to know it, too. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, "Well, we should take our leave. Thank you, Lace. This has been most educational."

"Now that you know," she said to Rook, "what will you do? Are you gonna mention it, next time you see Solas?"

Rook thought about it. She could not picture it. Whenever she thought about him, about Solas, her mind twisted into a riddle, and she could no longer tell what was real. She had only ever seen him from far away, up on a huge pedestal, or in the Fade, where everything was grim, and he was removed from her grasp, as cold and hard as steel. He was a total stranger, and yet, she relied on him. In this moment, she felt hugely young, raw, spilled open, her guts all over the floor. She did not want to hurt the Dread Wolf. He was like a music box, rusted shut, and there was just something so strange about it. So pretty, this idea that he held inside of him this intense history. Love, sex, all the things that made him a man and not a god. "I don't know," she said to Harding. "I need to think on it."

"Well, goodnight," said Lace. "See you in the morning. Lucanis is making breakfast so, don't miss it."

Outside, Rook and Emmrich stood at the center of the midnight courtyard and stared up at the enormous idol of Fen'Harel. Oddly now, standing here in front of this enormous statue, her thoughts turned away from Solas and instead settled with the man by her side. It was so strange, she thought. From the very first day she met him, he disarmed her. He took her guard completely down, and he told her to light brassieres and they fought demons, and they were talking to spirits. She said hello to a little wisp, and it had made her heart beat strangely. He told her he had never been out of Nevarra, and he seemed starved for adventure, and yet, it had been him who'd swept her off her feet, took her on a grand field trip through the Necropolis, this well of magic, everywhere, all the time, living and breathing with a mind of its own. He had opened her eyes that day.

He was older, but she didn't much care. He did not treat her like a child. Sometimes, he did treat her like a student. But he did that to everyone, and in any case, it was never condescending. It's just who he was. The professor. He was not steel, nor was he even terribly guarded. He did not give in to her easily though, that was for sure. He moved slowly, deliberately, all those times she would go to talk to him, ask him questions about what he thought about all of this, about the Veil. He kept his distance until it really mattered, as if every choice he made would determine who they were, together, and in this, she knew that she could trust him. 

"What do you think of all this, Rook?" he said then, smiling at her. "Have your opinions of Solas changed in any way?"

"A little," she said. "I need to sleep on it. I just...I realize that I don't know him at all. He barely even seems like a person sometimes, let alone a man who could...well, you know."

Emmrich held out his hand then, and from his palm, he snapped a little wisp, white and pure. It buzzed around her nose and landed in her hair like a bug, and she laughed. "Do you like it?" he said, very debonair.

"Yes," she said.

"You know, Inquisitor Lavellan is not a mage either," he said, growing pensive, his brow furrowed. "She was at the Conclave, sent as a representative for her clan, which, as I recall, is fairly important in the Free Marches. They own a great deal of land there. Even still, she was one lowly elf among an entire Chantry. She was certainly judged, and certainly alone. There are records, which state that, after the explosion at the temple, which resulted in the death of Divine Justinia, the Seekers of Truth wanted to arrest her for apostasy, for treason, for murder. You name it. She was ostracized far before she was ever beloved. And she was young when the Inquisition began, only twenty, if I recall from the literature, and the Chantry experts distrusted her immensely, even after she was named Inquisitor. Many were especially critical of her as the prophetic Herald of Andraste . But others believed, and among them, I imagine, Solas. He followed her. He loved her. Just like with this place, he desired to warm her heart, to make her feel comfortable, at home in an icy, mean, judgmental landscape. Perhaps because he understood what that meant? To be so ostracized, so fantastically alone. Part of that was the butterflies, I imagine, and that is why they linger still. That little wisp I just conjured up, you said you like it. Does it bring you warmth, Rook? Joy?"

Rook held it in her hand now, like a little poof of cool, calm energy. It seemed to vibrate with admiration, glowing up at her, like it was alive. "It does," she said. She set it free then, and it disappeared. "Thank you, Emmrich."

"Whatever the Dread Wolf is or isn't," he went on, "I think it is clear by now that he is, ultimately, just a man. He has desires, needs, and she fulfilled them, as he fulfilled hers. These were needs that had either not been fulfilled before, or not in some time. She thawed his heart, and he kept her safe, and they found a home in one another. Even if it was short-lived, it is more than most will possess in their lifetimes."

Rook felt impulsive then. She could hear the words that he was saying, and she knew that he was right, but she was lost in the feeling and the sound. She wanted to express herself. She wasn't shiny or particularly eloquent like he was. Definitely not a poet. She didn't have beautiful things to say or magical creatures she could conjure into the air. But she did have action. She had always been good at just...doing things. No fear. She slid her hand into his then. He looked down right away, at their fingers mingled together, like he was startled, and then he looked at her, laid bare. 

She said, "Is it okay? I don't know what to say. I just...I want to show you how I feel."

He was very soft then, his eyes dark and filled with a hidden sadness, which tempted her. What was it? Where did it live? What did it see? He picked up her hand, and he closed his eyes and brought her knuckles to his lips. It disarmed her and made her weak, and she sort of shivered. Their eyes met. He said, quietly, "Language can be superfluous in times like these, dear Rook. But, please, know that I feel it, too."

So, she kissed him, in front of the Dread Wolf statue at midnight, in the Fade. She had to stand on her tallest tiptoes to do it. At first, just like with the handhold, he was taken aback, but he quickly molded to her, his other hand on her jaw, as he touched her ear with tenderness. It was not devouring. It was pure. Tallest mage, so full of compassion. He seemed to unlock for her that night, a click and release.

Rook did not have much to hide. She didn't understand people who did. But she could try. That night, Emmrich walked her back to her room, and they shared one more kiss before parting until morning. She sat down on the couch in the blue, aqueous light of her quarters, vibrating and giddy, and watched the fish do their little immortal dancing. She thought about Inquisitor Lavellan, twenty years old, a Dalish elf in the Chantry, and how lonely that must have felt for her. How scary, how out of place she was and the deep, impending desire to return to the home that she knew, somehow, she would never really see again. Not as it once was, as a child. But then, there was a man who came along and made it feel okay to just be alive, no matter how you did it, or how new you were to the world. A man who seemed to know everything, who could stand so tall, and yet, who nursed inside of him a heart so true that it could not be contained. And so they were consumed by possession, discovery, desire. 

*This story, though it stands alone, is also a part of my Solavellan fic Riptide.

[friendofthecrows]

I miss that brief golden era from like 2012 to 2016 when the online witchcraft community was actually good and full of open minded people looking to learn more and share what they know plus maybe the occasional vampire middle schooler instead of the situation now where it's been taken over by capitalist tiktok transphobes who like to come up with ways to shift to hogwarts via their inherent magical vagina powers and then sell coated quartz to cure cancer instead of seeing doctors.

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[whysamwhy123]

Hmmm. What if I attempted to write a piece of Trash and posted it anonymously?

[nyaacatboy]

hey aros/aces of tumblr has anyone else figured out to express the sentiment "I hate it when people complain about being single to me" to allos without them launching into the perfectly valid ways in which they are unhappy with their singleness or conflating "complain about being single" with "talking about dating or being attracted to anyone."

[phoenixkaptain]

One could argue that my obsession with specifically the bloodier sections of Hannibal, the scenes that show humans in excruciating pain, as well as my obsession with Red Dragon’s depiction of Will’s imagination, painful and attractive in the most disgusting way, both paved the way for my becoming obsessed with such properties as Claustrophilia (a novel that honestly reads like Hannibal got his hands on season 1 Will, I’m dead serious, they even mention Silence of the Lambs, like, author knows) and Saw (a property thay pretty much deals exclusively in human suffering)

It could also explain my fascination with the idea inherent within all these properties, that being the idea that a human who is put through immense suffering might then decide to put other humans through the same or worse. Hannibal put a lot of emphasis on Hannibal himself specifically wanting Will to kill with him, to reveal his inner self, so to speak. Red Dragon Will fears killing people immensely for fear that he would be seduced by the bloodlust curdling inside of him. Claustrophilia, I don’t want to spoil if anyone wants to read it, but it shares that same idea. The only character in Saw who survives a Jigsaw trap without either joining a depressing group therapy session or becoming one of Jigsaw’s many (many) protegés is the lady who cut off her arm in, like, movie 6.

It could also explain why I like the idea of obsessive characters. Characters who are obsessed to the point of murder, characters with the internal motivation that if they cannot have something, no one can. The so-called “yandere” character who would rather kill their love than not have them locked in a box in the basement.

(Does Saw fit this frame? I don’t know, man, that one guy’s “trap” was just talking. All he had to do was sit calmly and have a semi-nice chat with another dude. Who sets that trap up without at least a little hint of obsession? And the glass coffin scene, man, I do not even have to go there, we all know. And carrying around the only remaining body part? Even for planting evidence, like, dude. Dude.)

(Does Red Dragon fit this? Yes. Hannibal literally stabbed Will so Will would be permanently physically changed by him. He gives the Dragon of the title Will’s address in hopes that something will happen that will once again change Will’s entire life so he can never forget about Hannibal. The first time Hannibal talks to Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, he asks about Will and, more specifically, Will’s looks. Red Dragon fits this, I cannot emphasize enough how many murderers want to break Will’s back in any way they can, like, it’s practically an epidemic (it’s two people))

What is it that fascinates me so? The blood? The fuel of all life? The changing a person so fundamentally that they can’t move without thinking of the one who changed them? The holding on too tight? The tragedy? The absolutely hilarious AUs that can be written? Yes.

[honorary-fool]

anyone else feeling the friday the 13th luck?

i accidentally sewed a sleeve on upside-down

upside fucking down