#and i really need to learn it but i can hardly find any good ways to learn it that don't take too much energy
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27spoons · 3 months ago
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The First | Natalie Scatorccio
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pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader
request: Sex with nat for the first time? maybe r is a virgin or they both are, either way I think nat would be really sweet and comforting esp if r is nervous. Oh and maybe some aftercarr, like a bit of cuddling or smthn. Can either be post crash or pre, anything is good. (🤺)
wc: 1790
warnings: porn/what plot, fluffy smut (afab!reader)
a/n: reader is a virgin, nat has only been with dudes so she still has no idea what to do, pre-crash
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"So." Nat grins at you as she walks into your bedroom (wearing your shirt and her shorts, like usual) and closes the door behind her. "Your parents are…" She hums with a mischievous look on her face as she approaches you on the bed, the novel you were reading discarded in favour of something much more entertaining. "Away for the weekend…"
"They are, yes." You look up at her with a dumb grin when she moves to stand at the foot of your bed, "Which means we can smoke weed indoors!" You laugh to yourself at the comment, but the way Nat shakes her head at you says she has something else in mind.
"We could do that—and we will—but…" She giggles and hurries herself onto the bed and into your lap, and you don't need her to say anything else. You wrap your arms around her and immediately kiss her, laughing into her lips as her hands find your shoulders. 
When Nat breaks the kiss, her grin is just as wide as before. "I was thinking we could do something better."
You grin back at her, "Yeah? What's that?"
Nat pulls back slightly to remove her shirt, revealing her red bra and pale skin, but you don't get time to marvel at the sight before her lips are back on yours, and she's pushing herself against your chest, rocking her hips.
You make a sound of surprise into her mouth at the sudden eagerness to apparently get naked, but it's hardly a protest.
The girl in your lap sees it as one, however. "This… is this okay?" She asks quietly, pulling back to get a read on your face. "I just thought—"
"No! No! Wait, no." You shake your head immediately, hands finding their way to her hips, "It's more than okay! Okay? I'm just… surprised." A disbelieving, nervous laugh bubbles out of your throat, "I'm just…" The nervous smile falls, "Little nervous."
Nat gently places her hand on your neck, green eyes meeting yours with a soft understanding. "We can go slow, yeah?" She whispers, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. "Your pace."
"My—my pace?" Another nervous laugh, "I don't… I don't know what my pace is. I've never…"
She rolls her eyes fondly, "I know you've never, dumbass." She leans down to kiss you slowly, hips moving against yours again. 
This time, the kiss is less rushed and more tender. You can feel the way she pours her affection for you into the kiss in the way her tongue takes its time to explore your mouth, the way she curls her arms around you in an effort to be as close as humanly possible, the way she wants.
It's not long before your shirt is being discarded along with her shorts, but she watches you hesitate for a moment to remove your own pants. 
"Hey." Nat says softly, "It's okay, okay? We don't—"
You shake your head again, fingers a little shaky as you finally discard your sweatpants, "No, no. I want this." You look back at her and smile shyly, "Want you."
Nat bites her lip and grins at your form, looking far too excited. She takes a shaky breath in, then immediately climbs back in your lap and returns to kissing.
She slowly lays you down on the bed without breaking the kiss, her lips warm and wet against yours, hands roaming and mapping any bare skin she can find eagerly.
When she finally pulls back, her smile is just as wide as it was earlier and no less genuine. "Honestly?" Nat chuckles, hands resting on your shoulder. "I also have no idea what I'm doing. I may know how to kiss you, but I've got no idea how to actually do anything else. We can learn together, yeah?" One of her hands moves to push some hair out of your eyes gently, "And it's just me. I've literally seen you throw up behind a dumpster after you drank too much at a party and then immediately proceed to bawl your eyes out. Not like you gotta pretend or anything."
Her words and eyes are as soft as her smile has become, and you believe her. You swallow down that nervousness and nod, leaning up to capture her lips with yours again.
Your breath hitches when Nat trails one of her hands down between the two of you, and she pulls back momentarily, to which you immediately nod; then her lips are back on yours, and her fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear.
Nat's fingers are slightly hesitant as they slide through your slick folds, a quiet sound leaving her lips at the feeling of it. Her fingertips are probably a little colder than they should be, but that just makes the experience better, no? A little bit of… sensory play? You think that's what they call it. Either way, it has you arching into her touch and sliding your arms around her neck, keeping her mouth close to yours as her fingers continue to collect your wetness and tease the area. 
When her lips move to your neck, you take in deep, shaky breaths. Nervous? Yes. Excited? Yes. "Oh." You exhale, "Fuck, that, uh, feels good."
The laugh that leaves Nat is low and warm, and she pulls back slightly to speak, "I've barely even started." A short kiss to your jaw, "But I can." And with another kiss to your jaw, her fingers move to circle your clit, and you sharply exhale the second contact is made. 
"Oh."
"Oh?" Nat parrots, fingers slowly starting to find pace and rhythm. "I take it that's a good 'oh'?"
You groan in annoyance and pull her head back up to meet your lips again, kissing her to shut her up.
It's a very effective method, you find. 
You aren't quite sure how long her fingers focus on your clit, but for someone who has never been with another girl before, she sure as hell knows every single button to push. One of her fingers presses into you, and she swallows the sound that leaves your mouth, then pulls back just enough to speak. "Yeah?" She breathes out, to which you nod rapidly, and she adds another finger after a few moments, "Yeah."
Her fingers take their time initially, but once she feels you relax and get comfortable, they start to pick up speed and crook themselves inside of you. Nat's confidence grows with every quirk of her fingers, and you don't even fully register when her hips begin to move against your thigh, chasing her own pleasure. 
With shaky hands, you slide your fingers against the damp patch growing in her underwear, the fabric beginning to slide against your skin like something akin to silk.
"Fuck, yeah." Nat breathes out, hips pressing against your fingers with every rock of her hips against your thigh. With that encouragement, you push your hand under the waistband and find her clit (with a little bit of struggle, which she doesn't comment on, but instead thinks you're better than the guys she's been with at doing that), and she starts moving her body with feverish urgency. 
Your other hand grasps the bedsheets, hips rocking against her hand in time with the movement of her fingers inside of you. "Fuck, yes, Nat." You feel yourself clench rhythmically around her fingers, orgasm growing closer with every undulation.
"Y-yeah?" She lets out a breathless laugh as your fingers start frantically rubbing at her clit in an effort to get her there as quickly as you seem to be. "You feel good, for the record." Nat sits up straight and moves her free hand to rest on your stomach to aid the gyration of her hips. "Like… really good." Her eyes fall shut as her head falls back, and you feel yourself start to fall apart just watching her look like she's in sheer bliss.
Nat hisses when she feels your fingers clench down around her, and she stops the movement of her hips against you in order to apply her full focus to push you over that edge and—
Damn, you do. 
Your back arches up off the bed, your hand that was clenching bedsheets shooting out to grab at her wrist, nails biting the skin. "Fuck!" Your breath catches as your head comes off the bed before slamming back down, waves of the orgasm crashing over you in slow shivers. 
The second yours is done, Nat's fingers are out of you and gripping the thigh she isn't sitting on, riding with a renewed passion as breathless whimpers fall from her lips.
Not one to leave your girl hanging, you quickly start working your fingers against her clit again, sitting up slightly and tensing your thigh.
Nat shoots out the hand that was on your stomach to your shoulder and pulls your face into hers, kissing you with almost exclusively her tongue. It's wet and sloppy, and the way her movements are becoming less and less precise shows you she's getting closer with rapidity.
When she comes, her orgasm is just as harsh as yours was, crashing over her with a moan she muffles with her lips against yours, followed by subsequent whimpers as you continue to move your fingers against her.
It's not until Nat pulls your hand back from her sex that you realise she's probably sensitive from the orgasm, and you mutter out an apology for continuing, but she shakes her head and lets out a tired laugh into your mouth.
"No, baby. I'm not upset. Just need some time to get my shit back together after that." She moves off of your thigh, shivering slightly at the loss against her throbbing clit and lays down beside you. "Come on, lay down. We're gonna cuddle like losers."
You roll your eyes but comply, dramatically falling back against the mattress with a groan. "What will I do? Being forced to cuddle with my girlfriend?"
"What will you do?" Nat agrees, draping her arm over your waist and pulling herself into your side. "It's a real tragedy.
"Mhm. A real tragedy." You murmur back, pressing your lips to the top of her head a few times.
"This is what's gonna make us win states, by the way." She hums, pressing kisses to your shoulder. 
You snort at that, wrapping an arm loosely around her, "Really?" 
"Mhm." Nat nudges her forehead against the side of your neck, "Which means we'll have to do it again after we win states, obviously. Good luck charm, and all."
"Right. We'll see about that. I make no promises." 
"I do." She giggles to herself, "And I promise that this is a good luck charm."
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a/n: spoiler: it wasnt a good luck charm ur pussy crashed the plane
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eunoiaflow3r · 2 months ago
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jealousy, jealousy - harry potter x reader
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requests open!!
• warning(s): fluff mostly lol, harry pov, not proofread fr
• word count: 1.2k
• request(ed): “can you please write a jealous harry potter when his girlfriend starts hanging out with cedric?”
• summary: the request lol
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Every Friday after classes, Harry, you, Ron, and Hermione would find a quiet place to watch a movie on the projector Ron had snuck in. It was a tradition the four of you had come up with after finally each falling into your respective couples. You and Harry were first - you both knew you liked each other but never said anything. After a heated argument one day in the library (mostly you were frustrated he wasn’t being safe and smart with his life after an encounter with you-know-who) and he kissed you right in the middle of your rant. You two had been together ever since. Ron and Hermione finally admitted their feelings shortly after.
Tonight, you were late. Only by a few minutes, but enough to have Harry wondering where you were and how you were doing. What he didn’t expect to see or hear was your giggling followed by a deep voice coming his way. His head turned quickly to find you walking towards the group with Cedric Diggory at your side. Harry furrowed his brows and looked to Hermione and Ron in confusion. They didn’t look as worried as he was, but still offered no kind of relieving explanation. Once you reached them, he watched as you said goodbye and walked over to lean down and kiss Harry on the cheek. Cedric waved to the group before heading forward someplace else.
Harry cleared his throat. “Erm was that Diggory over there?”
“Yeah, it was,” you start, “I ran into him and we were talking about the Transfiguration assignment before we realized we were heading the exact same way.”
“Oh, hm, alright.”
And that was the end of that. Harry didn’t press any further. He didn’t see the need and he wasn’t the type. He was just glad you were at his side now and he could enjoy the movie with you.
The next day at breakfast, Harry listened to how worried you were about passing two of your classes. He tried to tell you everything would be alright but he could hardly get a word in. He didn’t mind though. He liked listening to you even if half of it wasn’t really making any sense.
“Y/N!”
Both Harry and your head turn to the noise. It was Cedric Diggory heading your way, papers in hand.
“Hello Potter.” Cedric says smiling.
“Diggory.” He nods politely.
“Y/N, here are those notes that I promised you. I was able to find them in my things from last yea I had buried.”
“Oh my God thank you!” Harry watches you exclaim. “You’re a life saver!”
Harry rolls his eyes as Cedric walks away. He’s even more surprised when you jump out of your seat.
“I have to go study these Harry, I’ll see you later.”
Unfortunately for him, later wasn’t until the night where he was finally able to see you holed up in your room, Diggory’s notes in hand. Like the good boyfriend he is, Harry brought your favorite snacks because he knew you’d want them and wasn’t sure if you had eaten or not. You told him all about what you had learned and understood now that you had the notes, and he stroked your hair and listened until you fell asleep on his chest. For some reason, even though nothing was wrong, every time you mentioned Cedric and his oh so helpful notes there was a little ball of fire simmering in Harry’s chest. Tonight he would ignore it, but he wasn’t sure for how much longer he would be able to do that.
“Do you think this Diggory thing is weird?” Harry asks Ron during a Wizard’s Chess game the next day. You and Hermione were off in the library looking for a next good read. Harry and Ron weren’t as interested in doing that.
“What Cedric? What thing?”
“Well, I don’t know. First he walks her to us on Friday and now he’s giving her notes?”
Ron stuffs his face with toast before answering, mouth full. “Well, I don’t know, sounds innocent enough to me, she’s been really stressing about that class.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
After the match, Harry and Ron make their way to the library and see you and Hermione side by side by side looking looking at a book that was thick enough that your foot could probably break if it was accidentally dropped. Unfortunately, Cedric was right in between the two of you.
“This is amazing.” You gleam. Harry watched as you smiled ear to ear looking at the pages in front of you. It didn’t help the ball of fire that Cedric was smiling too.
“Hey guys.” Hermion says. You look up and when you spot Harry you make your way over to him.
“How was chess?” you ask as you kiss him gently on the lips.
Harry kisses you back while still keeping his eye on Cedric. He notices that Cedric’s eyes haven’t left you. “Ron won. What’s going on here?”
“Y/N and I were looking for a really good fantasy book about this Herbologist and Cedric helped us find something even better since we couldn’t find the copy we were looking for. Guess it was already checked out.”
“Hmm.” Harry says.
“What’s wrong?” You ask.
Harry shakes his head as if to say nothing.
Cedric greets the boys and then bids you all goodbye. Harry thought that still his eyes lingered on you for a little too long, but nothing in your response to him gave Harry any pause. You weren’t giving Diggory any extra attention that gave any problem but still he couldn’t quite get the flames to calm down.
Harry held your hand as he walked you to your dorm. He was quiet almost the whole time and let you talk about the book Cedric had introduced you to. To be honest, and he hated, it sounded like a really good book. And Harry hated that. He knows it’s innocent and nothing is technically wrong, but still he was upset because Cedric lately has seemed to be able to help you with so many things.
“Harry?” You ask.
“Hm?” Before he knew it you had already reached your dorm, but he was lost in thought.
“What’s wrong? Honestly this time..” You ask.
“Nothing.” He says. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Harry, you’re lying.”
Harry wanted to deny and argue, but he knew that you knew him better than that and would beat the answer out of him sooner or later.
“I just, you know, Diggory has been doing a lot for you lately and the way he was looking at you today was just..ya’know I -”
“Harry, are you jealous?”
Harry’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that made you smile.
Harry leaned into you as you cupped on of your hands onto the side of his face and the other ran through his hair.
“Harry, I only have eyes for you. You don’t ever need to worry.”
You press your lips against his and he kisses back with fervor. He liked that your lips tasted like cherries for some reason and he savored it while his hands wrapped around your waist. He got butterflies when you moaned as he gently bit your lip. He loves the feeling of you against him and he just wanted to get closer and be able to be in this moment with you forever.
“That’s good to hear.” He says when you finally break away. He could feel heat in his cheeks almost hotter than the moment the two of you just shared.
“Jealousy is not a good look on you Potter. I prefer flushed instead.”
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reobsessed · 2 years ago
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Unfamiliar Waters
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Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!
You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.
“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.
“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”
“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”
“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”
“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”
You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.
He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”
“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”
His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 
“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”
Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.
“Then allow me.” You smirked.
He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”
“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.
“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”
“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.
“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.
“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.
He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 
“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.
He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.
You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 
You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”
“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”
“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.
“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 
The same one you liked to use.
With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.
“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.
He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.
With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 
Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.
An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.
“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”
“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.
You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 
“That feels positively wonderful.”
“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 
His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 
“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.
There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 
Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.
“I do rather like that, you know…”
“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.
“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 
A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.
“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.
“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”
You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 
A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.
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luvyeni · 8 months ago
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( drabble ) love island ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 이제노 ՞
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⸃ ⸰ ⌁ under the covers with lover jeno ヾ
fling!jeno・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎fingering , sex with people in the room , dirty talk・ ‎0.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library
request. idk if ure like, familiar w love island, but a lottttt of the couples there make out and shi (and even have sex sometimes all in the same room). can i req for haechan or mark or jeno trying to make out or feel reader up or initiating sex whilst being in a room full of ppl 😁
「 ୨୧ authors note 」 fun fact i had an idea for a sort of love island / dating show smau with jeno where readers got to eliminate the couples through voting but i scraped it once i started pre writing my chapters.
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it was pretty quiet in the room besides the snoring; it was 6 other couples in the room so you couldn't really complain about that. you had joined the dating show for fun; but also with the hope of finding someone you could share your love with — and boy did you did.
lee jeno was his name; and he was like something out of a dream, not only was he not as hell, his body well sculpted. he was also sweet and kind , and granted you've known him for a few weeks , he doted on you — both of you being from the same place , you wished you had met him , way before you joined the dating show.
you've made good friends on the show; the only downside to the situation is you're staying in the same room as those said friends. you hardly had any privacy , you couldn't do anything without at least one of them being there; that included having sex or any form of intimacy. it didn't really stop anything , hearing all kinds of noises during the night , learning to ignore it and not speak of it — what are you supposed to do when there's a hot man or woman in your bed , half naked in the dark? isn't that what you sign up for when you decide to join a dating show?
“baby.” jeno whispered; almost groaning under the covers with you. “baby please.” his head in your neck , planting little kisses , you sighed. “jeno people are sleeping.” he didn't care about that at all; you were in his bed , half naked in his shirt — the other couples in the room were the least of his problems. “i promise you at least two of them aren't.” your faces close to each other; you can feel his breath , his hands on your waist. “come on , just give me a kiss then.”
you knew you should've given in to him with the kiss , but you couldn't help it; he pulled you close , kissing you. you pulled away , his forehead pressed against yours , smirking as he grabbed you chin , pulling you into another heated kiss , his lips working their way to your ear. “see you want it, don't you?” nipping at your earlobes. “you're grinding against my leg baby.”
you finally gave in; a quiet moan emitting from your mouth. “jeno please touch me.” he bit his lip , smirking. “i knew it baby , your little pussy needs me.” maintaining eye contact with you , as he brought his perfectly long fingers to his lips , licking them. “je-jeno.”
he shushed you; moving your panties to the side , pushing his fingers inside you. “fuck.” you sighed, his fingers moving slowly. “look at you , dripping down my fingers.” he chuckled in your ear. “hardly ever have any privacy, i know your sweet pussy needed this.” he cursed as you clenched around his fingers. “can't wait until you're doing this on my cock.” he moved his fingers in and out of you , biting your lip almost hard enough to make yourself bleed. “fuck i can't wait until this show is over , so i can hear your pretty moans while i fuck you.”
you gripped his bicep , shaking in his hold as you came , hiding your face in his chest trying to conceal your moans as he fingered you through your orgasm. “good girl.” he whispered. “such a good girl fa me.”
“when this show is over nothing is stopping me from fucking you into the nearest private room.”
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©LUVYENI
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libellule-ao3 · 7 months ago
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Hey,
I really like your Ominis' NSFW Alphabet. Can I request one for Sebastian?
Hello,
I had some random HCs about Sebastian in a file. Your request prompted me to organise them a bit. So thank you. 🙏💖
I hope you will like them.
As always, I hope you will forgive any potential language mistakes.
NSFW Alphabet | Sebastian Sallow 🔞
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⚠️Sexually explicit content | 🔞 | Smut | HC |2,5k words
Summary: Some of my smutty HC about Sebastian Sallow, collected under the "NSFW alphabet" template.
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Other NSFW alphabets: Ominis Gaunt, Dark!Ominis
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Sebastian can fuck you relentlessly, make you scream his name, and push you over the edge, but afterwards, he remains extremely attentive. He holds you close, kisses you softly, whispers praise, and caresses you slowly while you catch your breath. Sometimes, he murmurs how much you mean to him, as if afraid to lose you like he lost his family. He may also massage your tired muscles, apply soothing lotion to areas reddened by blows or bites, and make sure you’re well hydrated. His need to protect and care for you is almost obsessive. He loves to see you relaxed, exhausted, and satisfied, so he’ll shower you with kisses, sometimes until you’re ready for another round.
B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Sebastian is particularly proud of his hands, which are just as good at wielding a wand as they are at making you come. He loves their versatility: caressing you tenderly, spanking you hard, penetrating you deeply, pinching your nipples, all to play with your pleasure. He also loves to feel the vibrations of your moans under his palm as he grabs you by the throat, controlling your breathing and arousal.
As for your body, he’s obsessed with your bottom. He loves to touch it discreetly as he walks past you, grab it firmly or slap it as he takes you from behind or as you ride him, or simply caress it as you lie against him. What’s more, nothing turns him on more than seeing your bottom redden under his strokes or bounce up and down with every thrust.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Sebastian prefers to cum inside you, deep inside, to mark his territory in the most intimate way possible. The sensation of your walls contracting around him as he pours himself into you is incomparable. But if you want him to cum elsewhere, he also loves to watch you on your knees, mouth wide open, tongue outstretched to receive every drop, or see your body splattered with his cum, especially on your breasts or face. It awakens a primal instinct in him, a pride in seeing you marked by him in this way.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He’ll never admit it openly, but the idea of fucking you in a public place, where anyone could catch you in the act, excites him to no end. The thrill of the forbidden, combined with the fear of being caught, increases his desire tenfold. He fantasises about taking you against a wall in a corridor, an empty classroom, or a dark alley. He also dreams of discreetly caressing you under the table, without anyone knowing, leaving you unable to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure he’s giving you.
Finally, he often imagines screwing you so hard that you can hardly walk afterwards, and that everyone can tell.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Contrary to what you might think, he didn’t have much experience before you. Sebastian's life was entirely governed by his quest to save Anne, his obsession with dark magic, and the scars left by Solomon's death, Anne's rejection, and Ominis' estrangement. Burdened by so much suffering, he never had the time or emotional space to think about romance or physical pleasure before you. However, his natural curiosity and passion for learning have enabled him to be an attentive lover, experimenting and honing his skills to find out what makes you tick. So, his fingers, his tongue, his cock—he tested everything on you to understand how to make you come repeatedly.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)
Sebastian loves to possess you in doggy-style. He loves to see you on all fours, arched over, exposed to him. One of his greatest pleasures is to grab your hips firmly and pull you against him, sinking deep into you again and again. He relishes the way your body trembles under the impact of his thrusts. But what he loves most of all is wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling it back to force you to lift your head, all the while whispering obscene words in your ear. The total control he has over you in this position excites him like never. He never gets tired of your buttocks slamming against him, the sound of your bodies colliding and your muffled moans.
Then he loves it when you ride him. Seeing your body move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every movement, drives him absolutely crazy. He watches you rub up against him, guiding you up and down his cock, adjusting the angle to get to the places that make you scream. He loves the way you think you’re holding the reins, when he always ends up gripping you by the hips to go faster, harder, until you’re both overwhelmed with pleasure.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Even though he’s often intense and serious during sex, Sebastian has a mischievous side that also comes out when he’s intimate. He can’t help teasing you. He laughs softly when you become impatient, or when you beg him to go faster. He may also tickle you or tell a joke at the worst possible moment just to throw you off balance a little before fucking you even harder.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Sebastian doesn’t really have strict rules about this. He keeps his private hair neat, but doesn’t touch the hair on his chest, or the fine line of hair that runs from his navel to his bush. Also, he doesn’t care whether or not you’re waxed. As long as he can lick you, fuck you, and make you come, he’s perfectly happy. However, he does like to grab your hair during the act, pulling it slightly to force you to tilt your head, exposing your neck to his possessive kisses and bites. And he loves it when your hands grip his as he eats you.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.)
Sebastian loves to see you vulnerable, especially when you’re under him, breathless and trembling with pleasure. He likes to whisper dirty words in your ear as he thrusts deep inside you, just to feel your body react to his every word. Even in his most brutal moments, he still looks at you with that all-consuming desire that shows you mean the world to him.
J = Jack off (HC masturbation)
Sebastian has no problem with pleasuring himself when you’re not around, especially if he’s overwhelmed with desire for you. He may even let his mind wander to the intimate moments you’ve shared to increase his pleasure (your lips around his cock, for example, or your throbbing pussy as he impales you against a wall). When he’s particularly excited, he may even masturbate in front of you, enjoying watching you become eager and aroused as you watch him pleasure himself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Sebastian loves to dominate. He loves rough sex, making you bend under him, seeing you on your knees sucking him off while he controls the pace and depth by grabbing your hair. He loves that you’re totally at his mercy, whether it’s through handcuffs or orders. But he also likes the idea of a brief resistance, forcing you to give in to him, and the moment you let go makes him even harder.
Sebastian has a strong breeding kink. The idea of filling you up and knowing he could get you pregnant drives him mad. He gains a primal satisfaction from the thought of you carrying his child, especially after everything he’s lost. It’s not just about marking you as his, but more about creating something permanent, a family—something he’s craved ever since losing his parents and Anne.
The way your body changes during pregnancy only intensifies his desire. He finds you even more irresistible, the sight of your round belly, where his baby is growing, exciting him beyond reason. He loves being the one to satisfy all your needs while you’re vulnerable, taking special care to ensure your comfort but never holding back on intensity. During sex, he loves trying new positions that suit your changing body, and Sebastian can spend hours worshipping your pregnant form, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he desires you.
He also has a weakness for role-playing games, especially those where he can reverse the dynamic and explore scenarios where one of you is in a position of weakness or submission.
L = Location (favourite places to do the do)
As much as he enjoys the safety of your bedroom, Sebastian can find carnal pleasure in unexpected places. Whether it’s in an empty classroom, against a tree in the Forbidden Forest, or even in a cramped bathtub, every place has its charm as long as he can hear you moan his name without restraint.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Everything about you is a source of motivation for Sebastian. Your perfume, the way you run your tongue over your lips, the subtle movement of your hips, it all drives him crazy. But what probably turns him on the most is when you turn into a naughty girl. He loves the defiant look in your eyes when you try to take control, or when you provoke him, knowing full well he’ll punish you for it.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
He likes to push your buttons, but respects your limits. He’s a possessive guy who doesn’t like anyone else intruding on your intimate moments, either.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Sebastian is as talented with his mouth as he is with his hands. He’s obsessed with making you come using his tongue. He loves to hear you moan under the deft movements of his mouth, watching you writhe in pleasure as he licks you relentlessly. Of course, receiving oral pleasure is just as enjoyable, especially when he sees how much you love having it in your mouth, your eyes gazing into his as he reaches down your throat.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Sebastian is an intense and passionate lover, often preferring a fast and determined pace, as his desire could wait no longer. That said, he knows how to adapt to your needs, slowing down if he senses you want something gentler.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Sebastian loves quickies, especially when the urge is too strong. He won’t hesitate to shag you quickly in a dark corner or a broom cupboard, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your moans as he penetrates you with brutal urgency, reaching orgasm in a matter of minutes before you go back to business as usual.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Sebastian loves risk. Whether it’s trying new things or pushing the boundaries of what’s socially acceptable, he loves exploring with you. For him, sex is as much about pleasure as it is about challenge, and he loves pushing the boundaries with you.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Sebastian is tireless, capable of satisfying you several times in one night! Even after he’s released, he’s often ready for another round after a brief rest.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Sebastian is open to using toys to increase the intensity of your sessions. He likes to use enchantments on you, placing his vibrating wand of magic against your clitoris as he penetrates you, or using it to torture you during foreplay. Ties, light whips, and even gags are also among the accessories he uses.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)
If you’ve been a bad girl or provoked him, Sebastian can be terribly unfair, loving to torture you slowly, make you beg and cry in frustration. He often does edging, bringing you close to orgasm several times, then depriving you of your pleasure just before you explode, until you’re a desperate wreck, begging for release.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Sebastian is quite vocal, groaning and grunting with every move. When he’s close to orgasm, his moans become hoarse. But his favourite part is hearing your screams, moans, and every sound that escapes your mouth. He wants you to be loud, to let everyone know how much he’s driving you crazy.
W = Wild card (a random HCs)
-Sebastian likes to surprise you. Whether it’s initiating an unscheduled session in an unlikely location, using a prop you weren’t expecting, or dominating you in a new way, he always likes to maintain an element of mystery and surprise. For example, he might walk into the room, pin you up against a wall and fuck you without warning, or wake you up by eating or fucking you, just to see your face overcome with pleasure as you wake up. He also knows you like it when he loses control, and sometimes he lets you dominate him and do what you want with him.
-When Sebastian is overwhelmed by anger or frustration, especially due to memories of Anne or the guilt of having killed his uncle, he sometimes turns to sex as an outlet. In those moments, he is more intense, even bordering on brutal, but always in control of his actions. Afterwards, he becomes extremely tender, almost guilty for having let himself go, but also deeply grateful that you're there to soothe him and that you accept him, even with his darker sides.
-One of the consequences of the losses he has suffered is that he becomes very possessive. He likes to mark his territory on your body, whether with bites, scratches, or ensuring you bear the marks of your sessions the next day. He needs to know that you belong to him.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Sebastian is slim and toned, with skin covered in freckles, more concentrated in areas that are often exposed to the sun. He also has a few scars, left over from duels and training sessions. He’s not particularly imposing, but he has charisma to spare, with an intensity in his gaze that melts you completely. Down below, he’s well proportioned, with a tail of average length but thicker so you can feel every movement and pulse. He loves to see how your body reacts when he penetrates you, to feel your drenched walls stretch around him. It’s an attribute he’s proud of because he knows exactly how to use it to get you where he wants you.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Sebastian has an uncontrollable libido, especially with you. Sometimes he’s so obsessed with making love to you he can’t concentrate on anything else until that need is met. He wants you constantly, and his body reacts to the slightest of your provocative gestures. Even a simple smile or caress can make him hard, and he’s often ready for action at the first opportunity. Also, he’s not afraid to express his desire for you, even in inappropriate situations. He’s sometimes amused to see you embarrassed, knowing full well that he’ll get what he wants in the end.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sebastian can be exhausted after sex, especially if you’ve spent most of the night making each other come. But he refuses to go to sleep unless you’re satisfied. He always makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’ve got everything you need before finally drifting off to sleep, often with you snuggled up against him, his hand still possessive over your body.
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sunboki · 1 year ago
Text
— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction
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Christopher Bahng x f. reader
TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst
WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing
WORD COUNT. 12k words
AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)
SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.
alternatively :
Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.
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Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.
Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.
Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.
Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.
She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.
Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.
Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.
Growing, learning.
Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.
However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.
A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.
Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.
Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.
Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.
Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.
The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.
The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.
Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.
Had been peaceful.
A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.
Your blood runs cold.
Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.
Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.
Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.
A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.
Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.
Smell.
Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.
So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.
Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.
Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.
Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.
Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.
It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.
Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.
It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.
Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open���horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.
For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.
You won’t leave, simple.
As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.
That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.
Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.
Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.
Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.
Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.
A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.
Shoot!
The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.
However, your success is short-lived.
Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.
Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.
First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.
Beast.
With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.
This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.
“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.
His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.
The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.
Mage.
Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.
His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.
“One remained, huh.”
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It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.
Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.
Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.
In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.
From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.
One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.
“Minho, this is important.”
“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”
His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.
“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”
At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.
You gulp.
“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.
Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.
Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.
Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.
According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.
Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.
At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.
“Finally, somebody else is here.”
A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.
Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.
“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.
“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.
Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.
Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.
Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.
Your stomach sinks.
“Wait… You’re a Mag—“
His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.
Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.
A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.
“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.
If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.
Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.
And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.
They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.
Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.
Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.
A devil, dressed as an angel.
“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.
Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.
It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.
Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.
“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”
Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.
You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.
Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.
“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.
“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”
Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.
It wouldn’t matter, would it?
The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.
Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.
“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.
“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”
Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.
“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.
Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.
“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.
“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”
About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.
“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”
You shiver.
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Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.
The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.
What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.
“Do you know what he does?”
Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.
“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.
“The King, what does he do all day long?”
One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.
Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.
“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.
“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”
Chris?
“Who’s Chris?”
Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.
“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“
“Tell who?”
You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.
A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.
King Bahng. In the flesh.
“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”
Again he corrects. These two must know each other.
“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.
Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.
You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.
“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.
Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.
You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.
You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.
“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”
The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.
And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.
Pleased.
King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.
Vile.
Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.
“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.
Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.
“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”
“Possessive, are we?”
His glare shuts the cook up immediately.
“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”
Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.
“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”
King Bahng hums.
“I don’t.”
And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.
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“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”
“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.
In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 
Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 
King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 
Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.
Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.
“He won’t bite y’know.”
“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.
Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 
Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.
He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 
You won’t bleed without biting back. 
Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 
The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  
His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.
“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”
“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”
Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.
The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 
“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“
“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.
Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.
Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.
“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”
Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.
Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.
“Excuse m-“
“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”
Ah. Right.
Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.
Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 
The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   
“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.
Salve. What salve?
Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  
“You smell.”
Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.
You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?
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First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.
Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.
“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”
You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 
To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.
Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  
Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.
What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 
The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 
Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 
Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 
Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.
Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.
Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 
“We’ve arrived.”
Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.
And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.
“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 
The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.
“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 
“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 
Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.
“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”
Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.
“Shocking, right?”
Yes, shocking for certain.
Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 
“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.
“..He forgot something again.”
Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 
Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 
Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.
This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.
From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.
A short term fix.
“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”
Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.
“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.
“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”
Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—
‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’
Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 
..End already? The endless winter.. ending?
“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.
“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”
His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.
“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.
“Peace.”
Automatically, you roll your eyes. 
Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?
“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”
Seungmin grins.
“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 
“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”
Marriage. 
What.
“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”
Seungmin clears his throat.
“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”
Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?
You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 
“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”
But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 
“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”
Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.
“Your scent.”
Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?
He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.
You don’t.
“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”
Oh.
That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.
Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.
“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 
Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.
However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.
“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”
And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.
If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.
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Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.
An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.
Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.
Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.
No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 
He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.
Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 
Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.
Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.
You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.
Run away. 
Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 
Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 
Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.
Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 
Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 
Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.
Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.
If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.
Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.
Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.
Bingo. There’s the cloak.
Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.
On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 
Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 
You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.
Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 
Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.
Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 
Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.
And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 
But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.
For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.
Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.
Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.
Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 
Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.
Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 
Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  
I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.
Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.
Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.
Enough thinking. You have to go. 
Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.
That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.
The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 
Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.
Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.
Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.
You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.
“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”
A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.
Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 
Gone.
“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”
He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 
Deer caught in headlights. 
A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.
He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.
This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.
Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 
As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.
A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 
In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.
King Bahng. 
He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.
“I could’ve handled it myself.”
It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.
If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.
So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.
Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 
Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.
Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 
Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.
“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 
Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 
Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 
“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 
“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”
Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 
Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 
Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.
“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”
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Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 
A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.
Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 
The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 
Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 
You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 
“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”
Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 
“I promise.”
Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 
He rushed here, cute.
“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”
Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.
“Hm? What was that?”
Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.
“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 
Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.
However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.
All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 
It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 
Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.
To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.
Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.
This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 
Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.
“Hey Minho?”
Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.
“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”
He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 
No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 
Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 
“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”
The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.
Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.
Seems his love life isn’t a concern.
“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“
“When do you want to train.”
All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.
“Tomorrow?”
Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.
Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 
Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 
Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.
Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 
Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.
Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.
Ouch.
Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  
At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.
“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”
Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.
Wait.
Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.
“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”
A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.
“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”
Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 
“Isn’t that unfai—“
“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”
He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 
“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”
Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.
Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 
Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 
Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.
Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 
Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.
“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”
There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  
Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.
“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”
You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know enough.”
Now he’s asking for it. 
“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”
Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.
Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.
Somehow, it grates your nerves further.
Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.
Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.
You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.
Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.
“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”
Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.
Deception is your greatest weapon.
Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 
You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.
Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 
The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.
In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.
“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”
Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.
“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”
Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.
“One more match?”
You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 
Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 
He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.
Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  
“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“
“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.
Huh?
What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?
Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.
But if I win, you marry King Bahng.
Marriage. 
They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.
If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.
Lies.
Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.
No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 
No weakness, no mercy. 
“Fine, let’s duel.”
“But-“
“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”
Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.
However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.
The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.
Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.
You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 
Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.
Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 
You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.
This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.
This theatre was particularly unforgiving.
He won.
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If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 
Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.
In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 
You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.
Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.
Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 
Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.
There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.
No escape. 
Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.
“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 
“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”
He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.
“He— The King, he’s a good person.”
You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.
Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.
Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 
Inside lies a gown.  
A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.
Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.
You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 
If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.
And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.
Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.
What awful circumstances.
“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.
Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.
Of course you had to choose now to try it on.
His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.
Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.
Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.
He clears his throat.
“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“
He sounds timid, like a child.
A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 
“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.
Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.
As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.
Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.
Catastrophic.
“No- No!”
You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.
“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 
“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 
Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.
“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”
Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.
A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.
“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”
Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.
What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?
Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 
And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 
You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.
But you don’t. He beats you to it.
“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”
What?
“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 
Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.
“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 
Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 
“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”
You scoff.  
“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“
“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 
“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“
“Mine already did. So now what?”
A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.
“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”
“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 
He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.
“You know I can’t do that.”
You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.
When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.
“And why is that?”
Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.
He’s right, in some way. 
You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 
Yet, you aren’t. 
You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.
But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 
You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.
An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.
So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.
Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.
“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”
For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”
“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”
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“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.
You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.
You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 
Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.
“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”
Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.
He raises an eyebrow.
“And what would that be?”
Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.
“I want to see spring again.”
Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.
“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.
“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.
“According to you yesterday, not really.”
Ah. Right.
“We just… have a lot to talk about.”
The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.
For now, you’re indifferent.
“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”
The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”
Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.
Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.
“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”
All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 
Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 
Oh Felix.
His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”
You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.
“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 
His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.
“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.
You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.
If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.
On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.
And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 
She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.
Your stomach wrenches.
By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 
The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.
You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.
Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.
It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 
All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.
As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.
“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 
Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.
A sharp nod of your head is enough.
Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.
“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.
“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“
The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.
Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 
“Then before I die, let me have this first.”
And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.
Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.
Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.
“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“
You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 
He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 
The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.
He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.
But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.
Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.
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After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.
Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  
Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.
“…Was the kiss too much?”
King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?
You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 
However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.
“Could be better.” 
He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.
Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 
“Goodnight Y/N.”
You crack a smile.
“Good night Chris.”
And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.
Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 
Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.
“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.
“I needed to see you.”
Ah. Don’t say things like that. 
Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 
He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.
“You kept the ring on?”
Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 
“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”
He grins, giggling childishly. 
“Is that the only reason?”
Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.
You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 
Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.
The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.
“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.
He perks up.
“Hm?”
You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.
“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”
“Care to tell me the other reason?” 
Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 
“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”
You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.
“We are married.”
Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.
“Are we?” 
Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 
Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 
You clear your throat.
“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”
Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 
“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”
Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 
Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.
“You don’t deny it.”
A silence passes.
“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 
He sucks in a breath.
“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”
It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 
“Chris, do you love me?”
You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 
Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 
This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 
“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”
How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 
Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.
“I hate you, so much.” 
Then another kiss.
His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 
“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”
Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.
“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 
Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.
“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”
You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.
What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 
You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.
“I’d be honored.”
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FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2
sunboki, may 2022 ©
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e-vay · 3 months ago
Note
Heyo! Do you have any tips for making comics? :)
I've been meaning to get back into the swing of it, but concentrating on such a commitment that takes so much time is tough sometimes haha.
How do you make it work? Are there things you avoid/make easier for yourself just to make the process more fun and do-able?
First of all, I’m very happy for you! I think it’s very exciting whenever we return to a craft we were once passionate about. I wish you the best of luck!
This is a big question and I don’t think there’s really one simple answer since all artists are different and have their own strengths and weaknesses.
One of the biggest issues I face is that I have a million ideas but I simply don’t have the time to do them all. I want to share all these ideas but if I gave each and every idea the same amount of attention and detail, I’d hardly get anything done. So here are some things I've learned through my own comic-making experience, but keep in mind it may not be what you're looking for. Also remember this is NOT career advice. I make comics for fun, not for a living. If you’re looking for professional advice I would suggest looking elsewhere 👍
1 - A comic doesn't have to be fully rendered to be entertaining. Although I love to draw and line and color my work, it’s not always necessary. If I feel a punchline is strong enough to stand on its own, I’ll just make it into a doodle comic. In fact, I’ve found that some of my doodle comics perform better than the fully rendered ones! The doodle comics are still very fun for me to draw and they also serve as gestural drawing practice, so in the end it doesn’t feel like I'm making a sacrifice. I'm still getting my ideas out there and I'm still drawing, I'm just prioritizing what gets more attention so I can better manage my time.
2 - Not every panel needs an illustrated background. You definitely need to show backgrounds for establishing shots and when characters are interacting with the scene. But sometimes the focus needs to be entirely on the character and/or what they’re saying. You can choose to have a solid color background and maybe add a few textures to keep it visually interesting. You're still putting in the effort to make your art pop, but you aren’t losing a ton of time by drawing dozens of backgrounds. Color is also a good way to convey mood. I do that a lot in my comics, like this bit from “My Gal”:
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^ I was trying to show a progression in excitement here, so having the colors change from cool to warm does a better job portraying that than if I just had a standard, scenic forest background for all the panels.
3 - Use resources: That's what they're there for! Because I make all these comics by myself, I have had to find resources to help me get through some of the steps faster so I can focus more on the story writing and the artwork. For example, to help me save time on lettering, I use the Onomatopedia font and the Manero Panels, SFX and Bubbles brush set for Procreate. I’m still selecting the sound effects and choosing the appropriate bubbles and tails to suit the mood and scale of the text, but this has saved me a ton of time because I’m not drawing each individual element by hand over and over again. Personally, I purchased these resources but I'm sure there are plenty of free tools out there that you can use.
As far as making it more fun... Honestly, I just love comics as an art form so much that learning about all the 'rules' and techniques and 'SOP's behind comics makes it more fun for me to make them. I recommend checking out tutorials and tips (even if you think you already know it all) and you might be surprised at how much it might ignite more of your comic-making passion. For example, I've spent hours on Blambot's "How-To" page and on ComicDevices.com just to try and soak up as much as I can. They're full of fascinating reads that make me want to try out different things!
I hope this helps! Good luck with your comics!
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apocalypse-shuffle · 7 months ago
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LEATHERFACE | BUBBA SAWYER (TTCM & TTCM P2 | TCM: Next Generation a little)
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Sex w/ Leatherface (Bubba Sawyer | Leatherface x Fem!Reader)
Headcanons
NSFW, 18+, minors dni, (TW: Cannibalism, human-skin leather), mature content, smut, dom/sub dynamics, slasher shit idk
Pic source: middle•The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2 & beg./end•Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Next Generation
Happy 5 days till Halloween!!! 🎃
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Kinky? Not necessarily, but he could be with some practice and some explanations.
I cannot in good taste say this man is a Dom, I can hardly say he’s a Top. He will certainly Top for you if asked to but if anything it’ll be more of a case of topping from the bottom. You’ll need to talk him through it too.
He can be really good and give you just what you want but where he really falls apart is at you bossing his ass around. He will forget he’s supposed to be in charge, okay?
Bubba can’t Dom for you if you want him to, he’s not naturally a Dom and can’t slip into the role very well. There’s some amount of lack of confidence there, but mostly it’s just a general lack of desire to dominate you that hinders him. Manhandle you to a certain extent, yeah, but truly taking charge of you isn’t something he’s as interested in.
No, he doesn’t want to hit you! What’re you talking about?
We all know he can be very domineering and intimidating, looming over and throwing around helpless victims, but that’s his ‘job’ and duty to the family. With you it’s different and he can just exist as your partner.
If you introduce kink into your lives/sex lives then you’ve got to be patient. Bubba will take to bottoming and even subbing eventually, but even with his sexual interest he’s still new to anything that’s not his fist and the occasional finger.
Just about dies the moment you mention pegging to him. He submits to you so well when you’re fingering him open and he’s loud, whimpering and moaning and begging nonsensically to you the entire time you’ve got him shaking apart and on the edge.
Refuses to be hit really. You might want to try impact play but, even with you, Bubba isn’t having it. Being hit reminds him too much of his brothers’ discipline and taunting for him to find it enjoyable. Hell, if you don’t talk about it beforehand and you slap him in the moment he’ll pull away from you upset and then you’ll have to put in the work of getting him comfortable with you again because you crossed one helluva line there.
Let this man dress up for you, he will lose his mind. I’m talking cock straining against his panties while you apply his lipstick, alright?
He speaks to you so softly like this, natural blush coloring his cheeks, but he’s not ashamed. He just needs you so badly.
Naturally, if impact play is off the table for him, degradation is too. At least for Bubba. He can’t take that shit and you will actually hurt his feelings. Even the lightest of degrading names will turn him off for a week, don’t try it.
Talking Bubba through everything is crucial. It’s crucial to varying degrees in any relationship, but with Bubba any slip up could nuke your connection and how safe he feels with you.
He will accept the sweetest kind of edging though. Praise him while you milk his cock and he’ll melt. Even as you’re denying him release, how soft you’re being with him will only work in your favor until he’s crying desperate tears and you finally let him come apart for you. He’ll get incredibly clingy afterwards so aftercare is something he’s already receptive to - you just have to get him comfortable with allowing himself that level of vulnerability around you - and so long as you don’t deny the poor man completely y’all’ll be alright.
Despite his hate for degradation and impact play he doesn’t mind subbing for you in general. He wants to let you take the lead and take his responsibilities off his shoulders for a while, even if just in non-sexual ways.
Denying him gratification, though, is the best way to make Bubba not disobey you and learn to stop pushing against your rules and you taking the lead whenever you two have sex or are in a scene. He hates being denied you or an orgasm, but it still doesn’t feel intense enough (as a punishment) for him to crash out.
Will get nice and dolled up and jerk off for you if you ask. Or he might just do it to surprise you one night.
Gets worked up easily. You already capture his attention at every turn, sexual advances on your part will work him up to full hardness in seconds.
Typically he initiates most often, but he tends to redirect himself really easily on his own if he decides he just wants your usual attention instead or if you’re not in the mood. Even hard he’ll shift gears until his penis has calmed down but he’s not immune to getting needy and you’re not immune to getting turned on by him whining for you while he’s trying to do his best not to dry hump you or the mattress.
Letting him hump himself to completion on your thigh while your hands on his plush hips stabilize him is peak. He gets so frantic and uncaring as he pants your name into your mouth and kisses you messily before throwing his head back and moaning wildly.
Most of the time y’all have sex it’s when everyone is out of the house because, short of you gagging him or making him hold his own hands to his mouth and taking full control, Bubba’s loud.
Worship this man. Body worship, cock worship, praise. Kiss his soft belly and suck hickies into his skin. He’ll soak it all up and with his little noises, brown hair sprawled underneath his head across his pillow, and blown pupils he’ll get you so goddam wet it’s not even funny. He’ll clean you up with his tongue so well afterwards too; he can’t get enough of your juices running down his chin and the way you taste drives him mad. Bubba will overstim you by mistake after holding you still through your orgasm with his strong arms if you let him.
He’ll eat you out on your period (if you’ve got one). Full stop, he’s so attentive while you’re menstruating and considerate of any pain you're having and will get you anything you need even if he sometimes misses the mark. The second you let him dive into your pussy once your flow’s at its heaviest he descends on you like a man starved and you can’t do anything but hang on to his hair and shake as he moans and squeals into your tasty dark, red tinted cunt with his tongue delving as far as it can go.
His face will be covered in so much blood afterwards and he won’t let a drop of that go to waste either. He’ll want to kiss you afterward though so whether or not you want to taste yourself like that or if you redirect your kiss to his forehead is up to you.
Call him pretty, he’ll shiver and preen and blush. Compliment his masks too, he worked very hard on them and wants to show them off.
It’s either a hard limit or it isn’t when it comes to letting Bubba keep any of his masks on during sex. He wears the mask for his own emotion laden reasons so him taking it off and being his bare self with you is something y’all will have to work on together.
Just casually running your hands through his hair will make him melt into you.
Force him to hold himself still while you masturbate in front of him.
Don’t tie him up, he’ll panic at being restrained. Just let him exercise his own self control and if he fails change the subject as a form of punishment. You’re still the only one who gets to orgasm but this time he doesn’t even get to watch since he couldn’t listen.
Because most of his victim pool tend to be rude and stupid you’ve had random people walk into the house and make it all the way up to y’all’s room to interrupt you before. You screamed, Bubba got fucking belligerent, you kicked somebody down the stairs, there was blood everywhere and you had to help Bubba clean it before everybody else got home. It was a whole thing.
He did start to lick the blood that had splattered against your skin off but you weren’t into all that after so much work, you just wanted to bathe.
Bubba gets very jealous. Literally just him seeing you talking to whatever poor fool managed to get within the Sawyer’s crosshairs makes him drop everything else he’s working on just so he can kill that person. It’s nasty too, how mean he is when he goes in on them; not even trying to preserve them for meat. He’ll fuck you in the blood too if you let him, just to further lord you being with him over the victim’s corpse.
Match overalls, cute outfits, or lingerie with him. He loves that shit and how much it makes him feel claimed but appreciated and like he’s unarguably yours.
He will absolutely let you collar him but you have to be very delicate with your language (he’s not an animal, and he will take offense to being regarded like one even in a kink sense) and you cannot be too rough. This is a huge act of trust for him, don’t squander it.
And never forget that this man is a chainsaw murderer, fuck with him too much or break his heart and there’s definitely a chance that’ll be the last bit of drama you’re ever privy to. Passionate emotions make Bubba sloppy too, and sloppy means your death will not only be excruciating but slow (he would also absolutely eat you to keep you close while he mourns).
Bubba has damn near no choice but to fall more in love with you and (more often than not) get turned on whenever you don’t take shit from his brothers or any smart mouthed trespassers.
He also might not be fit to Top or want to dominate you but he will absolutely participate in bondage and tie you up. And he would be very good at tying knots, it’s just teaching him the correct ways to tie you up safely (especially if you want to be suspended) so there’s no circulation issues and the like that you’ll have to take the time to do first.
Let him fuck his cock in between your pushed together tits. It’s an exercise of his own control when he’s horny, and the sight alone will have him creaming all over your chest. Not to mention how much he really likes seeing you covered in his cum. He'll clean you up, don't worry (…probably with his tongue).
Loves seeing you with his chainsaw. He’s worried, of course, and will be knocked straight out of any arousal if it’s on and you're anywhere near it. Seeing you handling it properly and bringing it to him for a kill does him in bad though. Add the usual maniacal glint in your deep brown eyes whenever you’re pissed enough to actually be an active participant in a kill and he’s a goner. Don’t let you get covered in blood or deal any blows to the poor person you want dead either, you’ll make the man drop to his knees for you then and there, and killing with a hardon ain’t easy work. The man wants to get active as soon as you’re done too so good luck with that.
The blood and bits of torn flesh stuck in your coils and/or sticking to your scalp and coating your body like a second skin aren’t exactly horny triggers for you…obviously, but he is very fucking into it. Fucking you whenever you’re like this is one of the few hard no’s you’ve had to give him, because you and some blood born disease were not getting acquainted you did not give a shit.
Honestly, show some love to him when he’s wearing his masks and he’ll lay down his life for you; you’re a major keeper at that point.
Overall Bubba is an otherwise recipient partner…if he trusts you. If not, you're dying full stop, that man’s temper is a force all on its own.
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I really love this one!🧡
Also, what can I say, I wasn’t even that humorous with this one. God, I always feel so awkward talking about sex.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
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petertingle-yipyip · 1 month ago
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DADDY ISSUES - KAZ BREKKER
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Pairing: established Kaz x Reader // Word Count: 2,989
Summary (request): Hello… I hope you are doing well… I wonder if there could be any chance I can request Kaz Brekker x wife reader, where reader comes from really shitty background (her mom hanged herself, her father is abusive) and she never talked about it much and always helped Kaz build himself back before her, but now it kinda turns around… maybe make it a little angst, like they get in fight about it and the reader just breaks down thinking Kaz will left like everyone else did… hope it’s not to complicated… thank you <3 // couple slight tweaks (forgot it was a wife!request tbh). hope you enjoy! and the title was simply for the vibes, idk
Life in the Barrel was its own hellscape. You never denied or argued that point. Instead, you tried to find your own little bright spots.
You had friends, a crew that’d go to war for you. And lucky you, that crew turned out to be the most feared and respected in Ketterdam.
Not that you knew that when you joined. In the beginning, it was just a way to find a new life. You weren’t even looking for safer or better, just new. Your mother, Saints rest her soul, had been through the ringer. Your father, may he rot in Hell, was as vile as they came. He lost money on gambling, spent nights upon nights upon nights at the Pleasure Houses, drank himself stupid, all to come home and beat down you and your mother. The night your mother tried to fight back and protect you both, your father made a scene. He played innocent, ran into the streets calling for Stadwatch and that your mother was hysterical. The next night, your mother found herself on a short path to the end of a rope.
Your father called it a warning. You called it a threat.
That was when you ran. You packed whatever fit in your bag and ran. You ended up meeting another runaway, a criminally smart boy named Wylan. He didn’t speak much at first, but you two roomed together for a little while during your stint at the dye factory. He was called upon by the Crows first.
You lingered around the Club after that, wondering if they’d take you in too. One of them must’ve took pity on you because when you went back to your musty little lodging, the Wraith was waiting with an offer.
Your life seemed to turn around after that. You turned out to be quite the strategist. Within a few months, you had worked your way to being Kaz’s go-to for when he was mentally stuck. You saw things differently than he did and it made for good conversations and optimal plans for jobs. Whenever you two put your heads together, you were unstoppable.
Naturally, you two drew close and ended up together. You also learned the hard way that Kaz was his own brand of crazy. It took digging and prying and more patience than you thought you had, but he eventually told you everything. It was so much more than you expected and explained a lot of why Kaz was the way he was. But with some not-so-gentle coaxing, you managed to get him to agree to baby steps which grew to strides which grew to leaps and bounds.
With careful feints and evasions, you managed to keep the details of your childhood away from everyone. Even Kaz. When they asked about your parents, you simply said Mom was dead and Dad was long gone. Where were you from? Here, there, wherever the wind blows in from.
By some miracle, you could touch Kaz in practically any sense and he would hardly react. He could touch you willingly, and he did often. Loosely hooking his fingers through yours, a lazy arm around your waist, his chin atop your head when you leaned against him in your booth at the Club.
Inej said he smiled more after you arrived. Nina said she’d never heard an honest laugh until you. Even Jesper said you softened Kaz’s rough edges, not all but enough to notice.
Admittedly, it was nice to be needed. To be wanted. It was so blessedly refreshing.
Until one night, you were suddenly a little kid again, cowering in your mother’s skirts.
You recognized his voice before you saw him. His deep, angry voice rumbled through the Crow Club and you immediately tensed in the booth. You believed he was dead. You used to pray for it. It seemed the Saints didn’t offer you that mercy after all.
Miraculously, Kaz was too enthralled in his debate with Jesper to notice.
Your eyes frantically scanned the crowd, looking at every table for the culprit. When you had checked everywhere, you thought you had imagined it. Someone else with a similar timbre had to be there instead. You sucked in a deep breath, counting off numbers in your head as a distraction, until he practically fell onto the table.
You flinched hard and it instantly drew Kaz’s attention. You stayed frozen, as if your father wouldn’t notice you if you didn’t move. You saw Jesper draw a pistol on reflex and Wylan shot you a worried look.
Wylan was the only one who knew the extent of your childhood trauma, and that was only because he came back to your shared room to you sobbing on your mother’s birthday one night. You spilled your secrets and he hesitantly shared his.
“I can’t be here.” You squeaked, trying to scoot out the booth. Your chest was growing uncomfortably tight and your blood was rushing in your ears.
“I’ll walk with you.” Wylan stood.
“No.” Kaz said firmly. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was giving the back of your head that calculating, suspicious look. “I’ll go. Jesper, get rid of him.”
“Yes, Boss.” Jesper answered.
You tried to make yourself scarce as you heard Jesper telling your father to move. A small clatter later and a large hand, too large to be Kaz’s, locked around your upper arm and yanked you back. You stumbled over your own feet and were pushed against the table’s edge. You closed your eyes tightly, your head dropping immediately. All you wanted was to be as small as possible.
“All this time…” Your father sneered. You could smell the liquor on his breath. “You’ve been here?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You had no voice. All you could think about were the tears burning behind your closed lids. You simply shook your head, but it wasn’t good enough.
“You’re a coward then, hmm? What happened to all the giggles and flirts these men got, huh? Just like your tramp of a mother.”
Your father shook you and you let out a panicked whimper. You tried to pry his fingers loose but it was useless.
“I suggest you let her go.” Jesper said firmly and you heard the hammer of his pistol. “Before this gets ugly.”
“This doesn’t concern you.” Your father spat. “It’s between me and my daughter.”
“Daughter?”
“What? Can’t see the resemblance?” Your father’s hand tightly gripped your cheeks but you jerked your face away.
“You can’t grab on her like that!” Wylan argued and slammed his fist against the table.
Bless his heart, you thought. Saints, don’t let my father hurt them.
“My friends are right.” Kaz spoke calmly. “Seeing as this is my Club and that is my Crow you’re harassing, I’d very much say this concerns me. If you don’t want to lose that hand, remove it. Now.”
You forced your eyes open but couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on his cane. His shoes. You itched to reach out for him, to fold yourself into the safety of his embrace. An embrace that only you had the privilege of experiencing. But your father’s bulky frame was firmly in the way.
Had he gotten fatter? You had half a mind to say so and laugh, but you knew that was a quick way to a broken nose. You’d never forget the crack of your mother’s when she made an off-hand comment about his waistline one night.
“Mind your own, boy.” Your father spat at Kaz’s feet.
You gasped slightly and Kaz simply chuckled. That delightfully ominous sound was your saving grace. Most men would have apologized, begged forgiveness and swore some sort of penance, but not your father. No, he was stupid and stubborn. He was going to get what was coming to him, albeit less than he deserved in your opinion.
“Oh no..” Wylan said quietly.
You struggled in his grip again. You hoped it was enough of a distraction, but you were wrong. A familiar strike hit your cheek and the force threw you to the side. A pair of arms caught you but you couldn’t focus on anything beside the pain in your cheek.
That trademark back-handed slap, seemingly reserved for you and your mother. The slap that had split your cheek wide open when he had used his ring hand before. The slap that made you feel eight years old again. You had the thought to hide under the table but shook it quickly.
You weren’t a child anymore. Your mother couldn’t help you. You focused back to the current moment, the pulsing sting in your face and the tears in your eyes. You opened your mouth, unsure what you intended to say, but no sound came out. Instead, Kaz swung his cane with enough force to make your father sway on his feet - you thought you saw a tooth go flying - and Jesper was eagerly climbing over the table to join in.
You had half a mind to laugh as they landed strategic blows against your father.
‘Serves you right!’ you wanted to yell but your voice was still missing.
But Wylan was already leading you out of the Crow Club. You didn’t protest the escape. Wylan didn’t say anything until getting to your room at the Slat. You sat on your bed after kicking off your shoes and pulled your knees to your chest.
For what felt like the first time that night, you took a real breath. The adrenaline had faded, leaving your body tired and heavy.
“Do you want to talk?” Wylan gently tried, sitting at the edge of the bed.
You simply shook your head.
“Okay… Do you want something cold for that?” He gestured to his own cheek.
Gingerly, you prodded the tender area. You winced but felt no cut or blood. You shook your head again.
“I’d like to go to bed, I think.” You spoke. Your voice was so small, so far away. That couldn’t be what you sounded like… Was it?
“Of course.” Wylan nodded. He stood and patted your head, making you laugh weakly.
It was the same gesture he did the first time he saw you crying when he didn’t know how to help. Since that first night, it was just what you two did.
“Thank you for sticking up for me.” You offered a grateful smile. “You got the other guys going, too.”
“We’re always gonna be there for you, Y/N/N. And hey, if it helps any, I’m sure Kaz beat the hell out of him.” Wylan offered.
“I’m not convinced anything’ll help anymore, Wy.” You shrugged before laying down.
Not until he’s dead, but you didn’t dare say that part out loud.
You waved goodbye to Wylan before you took your pillow and put it over your face. You held it there and screamed as loud as you could. You screamed until you were out of air, then sucked in a deep breath just to do it all over again. Once the screams were gone, you cried. They were ugly, likely snot-filled and red faced cries, but who the hell cared?
You cried until your throat was raw, your breaths were shaky, and your eyes were dry. You had nothing left in you except childhood pain, so you did the only thing you could. You let sleep take you.
It wasn’t long until the door creaked open and you shot up. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes quickly, reaching in a panic for the small blade on your nightstand.
“It’s alright, Dear.” Kaz spoke calmly. “It’s just me.”
“Oh…” You sighed in relief, pushing your hands through your hair. “Just a bit jumpy, I guess.” You tried to laugh it off.
“That man in the Club...”
“Kaz, I don’t want to-“
“You never mentioned your parents.” He kept on going.
You groaned to yourself, understanding that Kaz was going to be stubborn about the topic. With a sigh, you ran a sleeve across your face. You folded your legs and Kaz sat in the now open space of your bed. He kept his eyes on his cane, tapping it as he spoke.
“Those things he said about your mother, what he did to you…”
“Yes, my father is an ass.” You conceded. “Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say, Kaz? My family was broken. Hardly a family at all, nothing more to it.”
“Seems like there’s much more to it.” He countered.
“Oh, for Saint’s sake.” You ran a hand down your face. “What do you want me to say?”
“You completely shut down, Y/N.” He said firmly. There was concern in his voice, but it seemed smothered by the anger still looming. You blamed your father for that, too. Was there anything that man couldn’t ruin? “He put hands on you and you did nothing.”
“I’m well aware.” You bit out. You placed your hand over where your father’s had been and it was as if the skin was burned by his touch. You shivered slightly but said nothing else.
“I’ve never seen that happen to you.”
“Let it go, Kaz. I’m begging you.”
“Convenient, isn’t it?” He scoffed slightly. “When you wanted to know of all my pain and torment, I had to lay it all bare for you to scrutinize and study. Yet when it comes to facing your past, you don’t have words?”
“I don’t have words.” You rolled your eyes. “If you believe that’s the case, then just leave me be.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He sounded near offended that you’d suggest such a thing. “Not until you talk to me.”
“What difference will it make?” You nearly screamed. “You’ve seen the truth. You know that I’m a fraud and I’m weak and pathetic. Feel free, Kaz, to cut your losses and go. I don’t expect you to stay after that fiasco.”
“You think so little of me?” He didn’t bother hiding how your words hurt him.
“I think the world of you.” You corrected quickly. “But I also know you. That whole thing made a mockery of who everyone knows me to be, and that reflects on you and your choice. My father has the infernal talent of breaking me down as if I’m nothing. He had always been able to break me and he enjoyed it. I’m sure he looked very high and mighty doing it again, didn’t he?”
Kaz didn’t answer.
“So now you know. Now you know that I’m not at all what I pretend to be around here, and I won’t blame you if you walk right out that door and never acknowledge me again.”
“Is that what you want, my dear?” He asked quietly.
His gloves were abandoned on your nightstand, you hadn’t even seen him take them off, and he gently took hold of your hand. With minimal force, he removed your hand from your arm and slipped his fingers between yours.
“Do you want me to go?” He asked. His voice was quiet, so uncertain. You had never heard such a tone from him.
“No…” You confessed. “But I know-“
“Then tell me.” His eyes met yours and in the dim moonlight from your window, you could’ve sworn you saw…
Tears? 
Well that couldn't be right. You didn’t even remember him crying when he told you the story of his brother. Why would he be crying now?
You reached your other hand for his cheek, smiling to yourself as he leaned into your touch.
“This isn’t your burden to carry, my love.” You answered softly. He sighed slightly but had no argument yet. “You wear so many hats, balance so many titles and jobs. You bear the weight of so much pain as it is… I can’t ask you to bear mine.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He corrected, gently taking your hand off his cheek. “Y/N, you are the only thing in this world worth having. Every breath I take is because of you. Every day I wake it is because you are beside me. To know that this has haunted you, to know that man exists in the same city- same country- same universe that you is a crime that I will personally make him answer for. He threw away the privilege of your love and your protection the first time he dared to put his hands on you.”
“Am I protecting him?”
The question wasn’t meant to come out. The look he gave you was so close to pity you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“You offered to carry my pain as if it were yours so long ago.” He spoke gently, so gentle that it made your heart ache. “You carry everyone’s pains and gripes without a word… Let me do the same for you.”
“He’s the reason I lost everything…” You nearly whispered. “He’s the reason I had nothing. What if he’s the reason I lose you?”
“It’s going to take more than that to scare me off, Darling.” He gave you a small smile. “I swear to you, Y/N, he will never hurt you again.”
You sniffled and threw your arms around him. He was quick to return your embrace.
“I love you.” You mumbled against his shoulder.
You managed a better sleep with Kaz beside you. The next day, you two stayed cooped up in your room and you answered every question you could manage.
Admitting to the extent of your father’s abuse was more difficult than you expected. Several times during your conversation, you found yourself shutting down and trying to change the topic to whatever you saw out your window.
Yet Kaz was ever so patient.
You knew then, beyond any sort of doubt, that you and Kaz would be together for a very long time.
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rook-laidir · 15 days ago
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Democracy won! Here’s more banter!
The poll wasn’t rigged, I swear
Rook: Remember when we thought we just had to track down a mage and stop a ritual?
Harding: Feels like that was a hundred years ago.
Rook: Do you think we’re in over our heads?
Harding: Well, tracking down one ancient god turned into having to kill two of them and another one’s stuck in your head. I think that’s as in over our heads as we can get.
Rook: Well, it’ll make a great story at least. If we live to tell it.
Harding: Rook!
~
Lucanis: The stalls along the docks in Rivain, they remind me of Treviso’s market.
Rook: Yeah. Before…
Lucanis: Treviso will rebuild. The Antivan Crows will see to it. I was actually going to ask if you had any recommendations for spice blends I can find there. You know a lot of the vendors.
Rook: My mother used to run a stall and I’d help out. As for the spices, I’ll introduce you to Rolan. He has the good stuff.
~
Rook: Did you like the spices?
Lucanis: How much do you think it would take to convince him to open a stall in Treviso?
Rook: He’s been there since I was a kid, but you never know. Everyone has a price. And I’ve seen your villa, you can afford it.
~
Lucanis: What did your mother sell on the docks?
Rook: Jewelry. I’d look for shells and shiny stuff on the beach and she’s make jewelry with it.
Lucanis: So you were always a treasure hunter then.
Rook: Guess so. Never really thought of it that way.
~
Davrin: Rook-
Rook: It’s not happening.
Davrin: At some point, you gotta-
Rook: No thank you.
Davrin: You almost drowned in the Necropolis and there’s hardly any water down there in the first place. You gotta learn how to swim.
Rook: Do I, though?
Davrin: Yes, you do.
~
Emmrich: You know, Rook, sometimes certain traumatic events can leave a lasting impression. There might not be any scars, but they can still evoke a physical response.
Rook: Ok?
Emmrich: If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m always happy to lend an ear.
Rook: Thanks?
Emmrich: Perhaps talking through the experience and processing certain emotions could help you overcome your fear of water.
Rook: (groans) Not you too.
~
Rook: I was tossed off of a ship when I was younger. Back when I was a slave.
Emmrich: Is that why you’re so fearful of swimming?
Rook: My arms were too tired and I couldn’t keep my head above water. I got lucky and floated on some driftwood back to shore. Haven’t really been able to get my head underwater without panicking since.
Emmrich: Thank you for trusting me with this, Rook. Talking about our fears helps us come to terms with them so we can work with them instead of against them.
Rook: Is that what you do with your fear of death?
Emmrich: Not death, dying. And yes.
~
Rook: I had an interesting talk with Rana the other day.
Neve: Oh?
Rook: Something about not even you being able to find me if I hurt you.
Neve: (laughs) She’s a good friend.
~
Rook: So did you and Rana ever…
Neve: Ever what? Work a case together? Plenty.
Rook: You know that’s not what I meant.
Neve: Well, if you ask the question, I might answer it.
Rook: Did you two ever…you know…
Neve: Are you blushing?
Rook: Just put me out of my misery here.
Neve: You asked. And is there a particular reason you’re asking?
Rook: Just wondering if you ever wanted to…you know, again. And if maybe I could…Or I mean we could, I guess…
Neve: Oh really. I think I can arrange that.
~
Taash: You still owe me thirty gold.
Rook: The bet was who could kill more Venatori in the Hall. You killed the demons.
Taash: The Venatori brought them, that still counts.
Rook: Sorry, Taash. The gold’s mine.
Taash: Fine. But next time I’m picking the bet.
~
Taash: Hey. I’m glad you’re a they too.
Rook: Thanks, Taash!
Taash: It’s good to figure this stuff out with people who get it.
Rook: Can’t promise I have all the answers, but I’m happy to help.
~
Bellara: Did you catch up on “Crossed Daggers and Hearts?”
Rook: Still can’t believe what happened to Ricardo.
Bellara: What happened to…Rook, did you read ahead?
Rook: Sorry, I got invested. Did you not get to that part yet?
Bellara: No! What happened to Ricardo?
Rook: You’re gonna have to find out for yourself.
Bellara: Can I borrow your copy? I promise I won’t lose it this time.
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de4dlyniightshade · 1 year ago
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I’d really just like to request your most feral Spencer Reid headcanons. SFW, NSFW, raunchy, tame - whatever. Just your like “I will fight anyone who disagrees, they are fact” type headcanons.
(Because I reread all your headcanons and love every single one)
I BEEN WAITING ON SOMEONE ASKING THIS! i've also just been meaning to make a hc post.
i was gonna split them into nsfw and sfw but they just ended up all mixed together 0-0
submissive and breedable spencer truther til i fucking die i'll get him pregnant don't play with me.
loves messy kisses like spit running down his chin, tongues down each others throat, desperately gripping at each other type of kisses.
maybe just me projecting and taking what mgg said as gospel truth but i fully believe that spencer loves a curvy woman, not even just for sexual reasons he also loves to rest his head on a nice big pair of boobs or thighs.
speaking of, boob guy! shamefully, but still a boob guy! adores groping your boobs whenever he can and would have your boob in his mouth 24/7 if he could, has literally fallen asleep with his head under your shirt and your nipple in his mouth.
munch! like the biggest munch ever, loves nothing more than coming home from a long day and burying his face between your thighs or having you ride his face.
knows full well that toys are his teammate and not his competitors and has no insecurities about you using toys on yourself or owning any.
does not care how well groomed you are, if you asked him what he preferred he'd be like??? it's literally none of my business???
needs lots of reassurance during sex, he just likes to know that he's doing good and making you feel good throughout the whole thing.
doesn't like talking about his sex life, especially with derek, no matter how hard he pressed and pries spencer wont let anything but the bare minimum out.
i imagine he's more drawn to a commanding woman, someone who will take the lead and teach him because of his inexperience and finds that he actually loves being dominated and hardly has any desire to dominate you.
really vocal! even though i've already said it like twice he just is, i can feel it in my bones, he's just such a whiny little baby and can't help but moan loudly any time you're touching him.
is completely against the idea of road head until you do it while you're on a long drive and it both changes his life and almost ends it bcs he swerved into the other lane which was luckily empty.
still gets shy when you kiss him in front even the team even years down the line.
learns to cook so he can make you breakfast whenever you're staying at his apartment.
on the same lines, lovesss morning sex, just that feeling of not wanting to get out your warm bed into the cold air, savouring the warmth in the best way possible.
had no idea what queefing was real until it happened and he was like genuinely so fascinated rather than disgusted.
i feel like spencer would own a bird for sure, not just bcs of gideon but he did help him realise how cool birds are which made him get one, probably a cockatiel or parrotlet with some silly name like dave.
all bark, no bite. likes to act a big game in front of others but the second you're alone he's begging and calling you mommy.
loves nothing more than waking up before you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before carefully and quietly getting out of bed to make you breakfast with the intention of bringing it to you but when you wake up before him and sneak up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist he can't help but melt.
very open to experimenting further down the line, anything you want to try he'll try at least once, except for blindfolds on himself, would be completely open to blindfolding you though.
loves public touching, not outright sex but he'd love when you subtly brush your hand over his crotch or take a handful of his ass in a public place.
teaches you how to knit and cries when you actually make him something like a sweater or even just a hat bcs he realises that's why you wanted to learn in the first place.
can't ride a bike.(this is definitely me projecting bcs i can't but i just feel like he can't okay)
lana enjoyer!!! especially if you are, he just wants to understand all the things you love and if you love lana so does he, he'd love to hear you ramble about your favourite songs and would take note of them and listen to them asap and tell you he loves them even if he didn't like some that much bcs he loves how happy it makes you.
wouldn't want to introduce you to his mother too soon but if you ended up meeting her by chance he'd be sweating buckets in case you didn't get along but you two just bond over your adoration for him and he's just so happy about it.
probably took a while to warm up to physical touch in the beginning bcs of his germophobia but when he finally does he regrets not doing it sooner.
washes his hands every single time before touching you sexually, not even for his benefit, he just wants to be as safe as possible with you.
loves elvis and almost proposes on the spot when you offer to dance with him to can't help falling in love, secretly sheds a few tears while you waltz around his apartment in your pyjamas.
okay i've definitely left stuff out that i've thought of but this is long asf so i'll leave it there😭
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sugrhigh · 1 year ago
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FIRST OF MANY - ( m.s )
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REQUESTED**
summary- you and matt have been dating for over a month now, and you’ve never had sex. his curiosity gets the best of him while you’re watching a romcom, and you find out he’s actually a virgin.
warnings- swearing, virgin!matt, technically unprotected sex, smut at the end (lmk if i missed shit)
virgin!matt x fem!reader
a/n: this is my first req that i’ve ever done, so THANK U TO THE ANON WHO LEFT IT i hope it lives up to your expectations ❤️ if u have ideas drop them in my inbox ! all da love
there is literally nothing matt likes more than spending the night in with his girlfriend, as corny as it might sound. it’s been well over a month of dating now, and he still can’t get enough of you.
the warmth of your body is comforting as you lay beside him on the sofa, dressed down in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. he has one steady arm wrapped around your shoulder so he can hold you against his chest.
he breathes you in as his fingers skim absentmindedly up and down your exposed bicep, a familiar mixture of laundry detergent and citrus shampoo.
“that feels nice.” you mumble into his shirt, eyes still glued to the tv.
you’re forcing him to watch friends with benefits, since he picked the last movie and you were in dire need of a romcom fix. it’s one of your favorites, mainly because you loved mila kunis so much in that 70s show.
it’s only been on for roughly thirty minutes, but matt’s been enjoying it way more than he expected considering this genre is not his norm. he’s even let out a couple laughs at the scripted jokes.
the main characters are in bed together again, rolling around as they banter back and forth about sleeping with each other. it sparks a fire of curiosity inside of him as he continues to stare at the screen.
“is this really what it’s like?” he asks without thinking, and he immediately regrets his words as you tilt your head to look up at him curiously.
“what, the sex? don’t act like you don’t know.” you say, playfully smacking him with the back of your hand.
matt isn't sure why he brought it up, but he figures now is as good a time as any to have this dreadful conversation.
“how could i know if i’ve never done it?”
he feels you tense up slightly under his arm, which scares him. the last thing he wants you to think is that he’s some sort of loser. he just hadn’t found anyone that he really wanted to be intimate with before he met you.
it’s not like you guys don’t fool around sometimes. he’s perfectly capable of using both his hands and his mouth; this is a fact you’ve been made well aware of.
you two just haven’t gone all the way yet, especially considering you hardly ever get real alone time together.
“you don’t have to lie about the girls you’ve been with just because we’re dating now.” you finally respond, quieter than before.
“oh my god, i’m telling the truth, so please don’t make me say it again.” he can’t look at you anymore, because he’s too embarrassed.
this makes you fully sit up in shock, no longer focused on the premise of the film. he can feel you staring at the side of his beet red face, clearly confused by this revelation.
“wait, are you seriously telling me that you’re a virgin?” you question.
matt glances back at you and crosses his arms defensively, because it suddenly feels like he’s under attack. “you’re making me seem like a freak or something.”
he watches your eyes soften as you put a tentative hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that you weren’t making fun of him.
“shit, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just…really surprising, that’s all.”
“surprising how?”
you pull your lips between your teeth, exhaling through your nose as you try and find the right words.
“well we’ve done stuff before, and you were just naturally good at it, so i assumed you’d learned from hooking up with other people. and i know girls must have liked you with a face like that.”
this boosts his ego, and he’s already in a much better mood knowing he’s at least made you feel good in the past. that doesn’t mean he’s not still terrified, but he’s a little more confident than he was before.
“nope, not really. you’re the only one i’ve ever done that kind of thing with, aside from a little making out.” matt admits with a shrug.
your lips part, and it’s making you feel all fluttery.
“wow.”
he smiles a little bit. “i don’t know what that means.”
“it doesn’t mean anything really. i’ve only had sex a few times, and it doesn’t change anything either way.” you move your hand up and down his arm a little bit.
the tv plays in the background, and your mind flits to his original question.
“are you curious? is that why you asked?” you tilt you head toward the screen, though you keep your focus on him.
his eyes go a little wide, and the feeling of your hand on his arm suddenly becomes overwhelming.
“yeah, i—uh, i guess i am.” matt stumbles over his words, and your fingers travel higher to run through his hair slowly.
“you don’t have to be nervous. you can ask me anything you want, i’m not gonna judge.” you say softly.
your fingernails raking along his scalp makes him shudder slightly, a response that you both enjoy.
“i’m…more of a hands-on learner.” he rasps.
you let your fingers travel to rest on the back of his neck, drawing him in for a soft kiss. it’s short and sweet, and his eyelids flutter a bit as you pull away.
“what do you want to do?”
he pauses for a moment before deciding to give in and say what’s on his mind. “nick and chris aren’t home. maybe we should go to my room?”
you grin, nodding your head like you’re in a trance. you’re both trying to hide your giddiness as you scramble off of the couch, carelessly tossing the blankets aside.
you can feel him staring at your ass as you lead him through the hall, and he gives it a little smack of appreciation.
“matthew sturniolo!” you laugh, turning the doorknob to his bedroom.
it greets you warmly, and you always love it because the whole place smells like him. the overhead light is off; it’s just the singular lamp casting warm rays across the mattress.
“couldn’t help it.” he says, smile prominent in his tone as he locks the door behind you.
you slow to a stop at the foot of his bed, and he stands at your side, hand intertwined in yours. it makes your heart swell as he admires you with those charming eyes.
“are you sure? we really don’t have to, there’s no rush.” you squeeze his palm reassuringly.
matt lets go just so he can hold your head, kissing you hard as an answer. you literally can’t help but beam into his lips, and you put one hand on his chest to push him against his silk sheets.
he falls onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows so he can keep looking at you. you crawl on top of him, slowly settling on his hips.
he sucks in a shaky breath as you shift against him to get comfortable. you can feel matt growing harder beneath you as you lean down to give him another swift kiss, letting his mouth melt against yours.
then you move to his earlobe, pressing your lips to the hollow part of his neck. you swipe your tongue against his skin, biting down just a bit so you can suck on the area slightly.
he groans, laying down now so he can move his hands to grip your ass, pushing you against him harder to feel a little more friction. the thin material of your sweatpants doesn’t hide a whole lot, and he’s straining against you now.
“you’re so cute, baby.” you say against his skin, and his hands go to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your hips.
you lift your hands from his chest so he can fully remove it, leaving you in your stretchy black bralette.
“god, you’re unreal.” he breathes, and you guide his palms to cup each of your breasts, still rocking against him slightly as you straddle him.
you can feel him squeeze your nipples between his middle and pointer fingers, whimpering below you as he starts to get worked up. you’re growing wet by the second, the delicious feeling of his clothed dick rubbing against you sending shocks of satisfaction right to your core.
“do you wanna keep going?” you ask, just to make sure he’s still on board.
“please.” he begs.
you move his shirt up his chest, and matt sits just high enough to rip it over his head. you trace the tattoos on his arm faintly, trailing a finger down the center of his stomach till you hit the waistline of his sweats.
“you’re terrifying.” he smiles as you slip your hand under the band of his boxers, slowly scratching the area gently.
“why?” you ask.
he grabs your waist and flips you so you’re the one on your back, feet hanging over the edge of the bed as he stands.
“because everything you do is perfect.” he says, and this time he’s the one that goes to your pants, grabbing the soft material and looking at you for permission.
“that is so not true.” you grin as you lift yourself up to help him.
he strips them off your legs and tosses them away blindly, so you’re left in your matching thong. the spandex-like material hugs your sides, the last layer standing between what you both truly want.
“i mean look at you.” he sounds dumbfounded as he gazes at your body, and you feel your face flush from the attention.
“trust me, i’m the one who’s punching.” you reply as he strips down to his boxers, dick clearly pressing against the plaid cloth. you’ve seen it before, on two occasions to be exact.
both of those experiences were great, and you didn’t know that was the first time a girl had ever given him head. now you know this is the first time he’s having sex, and even though it’s not the same for you, you’re still a bit nervous.
matt’s a little above average, and the last and only person you’ve ever done it with is your ex, so it’s been a minute. even so, you’re so enthralled with your boyfriend that you can’t help but pulse in excitement.
he pushes your legs apart with his palms, and air rushes across the wet spot that’s already formed over your panties. two fingers press against the fabric covering your heat, which shocks a gasp out of you. he moves them in a little circular pattern, applying more pressure so he can really feel you.
“love your fingers,” you rock with his pace, speaking through a moan, “but i wanna make you feel good too.”
“oh, okay. so i should…” he stops his motions to go for his own underwear, finally sliding them down so his hard length springs free.
you’re already working your own bottoms down your thighs, and he finishes the job for you once his hands are free.
“do you have a condom?”
“uh, shit…” you can tell by the solemn look that crosses his face that he doesn’t, and you let out a short laugh.
“it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m on birth control. we’ll be more prepared next time.”
his eyebrows shoot up before he can help it. next time. just the confirmation that this will happen again makes him disgustingly happy.
you wiggle up on the bed a little bit, so he has enough room to hover on top of you. he leans down a few more inches to give you a kiss, and you can tell he’s unsure what to do next, so you take control.
“don’t put it inside yet, just slide it against me a few times.” you try and instruct, and he follows well, dragging the base of his shaft up and down your wet cunt.
you let out a little noise of pleasure, and he wants to save it as a sound bite in his memory.
“okay, slowly, go ahead.” you say after a few more seconds spent enjoying the feeling, and both of you make sure he’s lined up properly.
matt looks you in the eye as he pushes inside, taking his time as you adjust bit by bit. he lets out a moan when he’s fully filling you up, shocked by how fucking amazing you feel.
you know he’s stretching you out, but the small pinpricks of pain subside as you get situated.
“you can start moving now, just keep it gentle at first.” you guide him, voice all choked up.
he nods, his long hair almost tickling your forehead as he starts to pump in and out at a leisurely pace. you’re both groaning messes, and your hands go to claw at his back as he keeps pace.
“fuck, you’re doing so well matt.” you mutter against his chest, pressing open-mouth kisses to his collarbone.
he’s getting into it now, finding a good rhythm and relaxing his hips slightly so he’s not as stiff. your bodies are molded together as you move back and forth, and matt can feel you clutching against his cock with each stroke.
“m’not gonna last much longer, angel.” he confesses, clumsily stumbling over his words as he tries to calm himself down, to keep it in just a bit longer.
“that’s okay, babe. tonight is all about you.”
he’s growing sloppier, and matt leans in to kiss you passionately as he gets closer and closer. surprisingly enough, you can feel the pressure building in your own stomach, and you’re both whining into each others mouths as your tongues mesh together.
“right there baby, i’m close too.” you breathe, and you can feel his body trembling against yours, one hand slipping underneath your bra so he can run his thumb over your nipple.
matt holds it all back, drilling into you as hard as he possibly can with the energy he has left. he loves the way you’re scratching at his back, pulling him as close as possible as you both reach your peak.
“i’m—fuck, oh my god.” he tenses up, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he comes undone.
his own reaction is what sends you over the edge, and you ease into the high, letting yourself finish all over him as he slows to a stop.
“yes, matt, holy shit.” you sigh, and he pulls out carefully moments later.
matt flops down beside you, rolling to press his lips to your cheek. you turn your head slightly to look at him, capturing his mouth with yours for another real kiss.
“i think i could get used to that.” he says with a small grin as he pulls away, and your ruffle his hair lightheartedly.
“lucky for you that was just the first time of many. so how was it?” you ask him.
he’s just opening his mouth when a loud pounding erupts on the door, and you both nearly jump out of your skin at the disturbance.
“hey! open the fucking door, we brought you guys mcdonald’s!” chris screams through the barrier.
you both look at each other, still grinning, and matt can’t help but roll his eyes.
“well, being alone was nice while it lasted.”
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pedripics · 3 months ago
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Pedri: «I like being a leader, it's a role that doesn't scare me at all»
(via EFE - February 11, 2025)
Sant Joan Despí, (Barcelona) - Despite his youth, midfielder Pedro González 'Pedri' (Tegueste, Tenerife, 2002) is not afraid to become one of the leaders of Hansi Flick's Barcelona, ​​a coach who, as he explained in an interview with EFE, asked him at the beginning of the season to take "a step forward" as head of the engine room of the Blaugrana team.
With the arrival of the German coach last summer, the Canarian footballer has not only left behind the muscle injuries that have slowed his progress in the last three seasons, but, positioned a little further away from the area, he has become the conductor of a team that is "feasible" to fight to win all the titles, he says.
Happy with his new role on the field
"I really like this position because I'm in contact with the ball, I touch the ball a lot, the game goes through me. I feel more comfortable and I've learned how to position myself better in defensive tasks," he says.
The advanced statistics prove him right. Of all the players who play in the five major European leagues and European competitions, Pedri is the one who has given the most pre-assists, with 7 pre-assists that have led to a goal assist.
According to the Spanish international, Flick's confidence has been key to his improvement - "he told me he wanted me to dominate the midfield," he recalls - and he naturally assumes being one of the leaders in the dressing room.
"There are a lot of young players and because of my experience I should be one of the leaders. I like being that, it's a role that doesn't scare me, not at all. I just want to face it to try to make Barça win titles," he added.
He feels “very light” on the grass
In addition, Pedri has found continuity in his game this season, something that he had been lacking in the last three seasons due to the muscular ailments he had been suffering from.
In this sense, he says that he currently feels "very light" on the grass, where he can make "several efforts in a row" without fear of breaking.
"The way we train," he admits, has been one of the main reasons why he has played in 35 of the 36 official matches that Barcelona has played this season - 33 as a starter - surpassing the 34 he played last season.
"It doesn't mean that the other way of training was bad, but it's just that it suits me very well," he says. After the arrival of Julio Tous as head of physical preparation last summer, the first team of the Blaugrana, says Pedri, does strength exercises "much more measured" for each player and their needs. "It's a job that suits me better personally and, that's why I'm feeling so good," he says.
In addition, genetic tests were carried out which, according to the Tenerife midfielder, determined that he needed to play the matches in a row, with hardly any breaks. "I prefer to play, since my body finds it harder to get going when it stops for one or two weeks," he added.
Good atmosphere in the locker room
And that is what Hansi Flick is doing, asking him to "stay calm, maintain possession and from there create opportunities" in a team in which there is a "feeling" between the players, he highlights.
"We're always laughing and joking around, because there are many players who aren't even 20 years old. We laugh a lot and the good relationship we have off the pitch is transmitted on it," he says.
In addition to Pedri, another of Barça's footballing leaders is the Brazilian Raphael Dias 'Raphinha', the team's second top scorer this season with 24 goals, who is praised for his work capacity.
"He deserves it a lot, because there was a time when he was being criticized, when he wasn't at his best, but you always saw him training, wanting to improve, wanting to have those opportunities that you knew were going to come to him because of the way he worked, he's spectacular," he added.
He also praises other colleagues such as Pablo Páez Gavira 'Gavi' and Fermín López - "they seem to be going crazy, but the work they both do is incredible," he says - as well as his friend Ferran Torres, who this season is reaping "the fruits" of his work.
Optimistic about the selection
Since his breakthrough in the elite with Barcelona in the 2020-21 season, Pedri has also established himself in the Spanish national team, with which he won the European Championship last summer.
“Whenever you win a tournament like the Euros, you always think: I hope the World Cup comes soon, we are doing very well. We have to wait, they are dynamic, we have a great team. It is good that Rodri (Hernández) and Dani Carvajal - both injured - can make it to the 2026 World Cup and so we have everyone available,” he says.
The Barça player also highlights the influence of coach Luis de la Fuente, who he says knows “almost all” of the national team's players due to having trained in the lower categories of the national team.
“That is very important when it comes to transmitting. He believed in you when you were little and he continues to believe in you in the absolute. That gives you a lot of confidence” he points out.
He doesn't forget his roots
Beyond his day-to-day work as a professional, Pedri does not forget his roots, not even when he chooses to join forces with a brand. This is the case of Plátano de Canarias, a product from his “land” with which he is very proud to collaborate.
“Many times it is personal issues, emotional issues, that make one thing satisfy you more than another, and not so much because of the economic value or other things. You value sentimental or emotional things more than anything else,” he says.
The Canarian footballer has also been involved in a campaign to promote healthy habits among young people through the consumption of fruits such as bananas.
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Burn Out
I would. Absolutely do the cast but. Consider. The casts parents instead.
Also as you can probably guess, I'm feeling burnt out so my writing may not be as good as it usually is but fuck it we ball. Yes I will be using headcanon names for the Cast Parents because. um. I can.
Family Headcanons here if you want to read.
Also there's no Diasomnia except for Sebek. Sorry. Don't attack me please I beg OTL NO SPOILERS PLEASE OTL ----------------------------------------
Dr. Carlotta Rosehearts is not the type of woman to be easily impressed. Burn out is something only the weak experience, though if you weren't raised by her, she can hardly blame YOU for your poor constitution. While she's not all that sympathetic, she can find a small, easy task for you to complete to feel like you've been productive, useful, and otherwise intelligent.
Dr. Dmitri Hatter, Riddle's estranged (engineer) father couldn't be any MORE experienced with burn out. He's awkward, he's odd, but his antics are sure to put a smile on your face. He can spot someone trying to work through burn out easily - not in his house baby, he's spinning that chair around and away from the desk, you're coming to get snuggled up and watch a movie with him and his kid(s). He'll make you tea (or coffee if you want it), a bunch of snacks, and promises to help you with your work later. Right now is time to let that all go and let your brain be mush for a bit. It's okay.
Amelia and Tarrant Clover - they're a little burnt out constantly themselves, but there's always room at the table for one more. Their home is only a good option if you like little kids though, because they WILL treat you like you're their big sibling almost immediately. They don't mean to come off as a little uncanny, but they genuinely do love having guests so much. Be prepared for So. Much. Food. If you can't really handle the hubbub of the family, that's okay too. Amelia will invite you to join her for her evening prep. She has a way of making you let all those feelings come out when it's just the two of you, and by the time you're done crying, she's got fresh banana bread and hot chocolate in front of you, with a pat on the back. She'll hug you if you want it too.
The Diamond couple have way too much tension between them to be of much help to you. Cater's older, but not eldest, sister, Catrina, is rather reserved and quiet when she's allowed to be. She'd be the one to take you into her room, do your hair, maybe some aromatherapy and tai chi. She's learned a lot of ways to relax over the years, she's just happy to share it with someone who is too exhausted to be fake with her. willing to let her help.
Dylla Spade hi, hello, did you want to make a top three guardians list? Dylla is there, promise. There is no overworking in her house. She can appreciate the dedication, but 1. you are actively harming yourself, 2. you should never work that hard in a workplace, why are you doing it for free /hj. She'll try to interrupt once or twice with the bribe of a small snack, or with going out somewhere, but if you're stubborn she's got to pull out the big guns. Big guns being she puts a photo of baby Deuce on the desk next to you and tells you if you want to know the story you're going to stop, go take a shower to give your brain a transition period out of work and go meet her in the kitchen. She's not the best cook but by god you know everything she gave you she gave with love.
Jack Trappola-Hearts is not Ace's dad, (ew, says Ace in the back of my mind), but his big brother. He's got a humble, somewhat dated one-bedroom apartment. He'll sleep on the couch though, so you can have the bed. (If Ace is there, Jack will sleep on the floor). He likes keeping you entertained and smiling, so he'll take you around town to (free) but fun areas. He doesn't expect you to verbally respond if you don't want to, and if you need to, he'll happily create a way for you to communicate when you're ready to go home. He'll keep you distracted from your responsibilities and burdens until he knows you can tackle them full force again.
Falena Kingscholar has a BIG and BRIGHT personality. He means the best, but he can sometimes be a little insensitive to your efforts, (as he was to his brother). He's also very busy and repressing his own burn out and Other Emotions, but don't fret. Kifaji will look after you. He's careful to not hover, but he always pops in with exactly what you need. He can't be as attentive as he would like, but he does know where the younger prince used to sneak off for naps. He may or may not drop a hint or two as to where those places are, and he may or may not have made sure to set the area up with soft lighting, music, blankets and curtains to give you some elevated sense of privacy without being overwhelmed by your surroundings (hopefully).
Vovó Bucchi (yes I borrowed a headcanon name provided by @kamiraaah (sorry for the tag, if you want it removed lmk!! ^^) can't help but make fun of you a tiny bit, but it's all just to remind you that hard work is meant to be rewarded. Hard work is meant to be balanced out with something else. While you're clearly bright, you're apparently not bright enough to realize when you need a break on your own /lh. She'll ask you to tell her about the things you HAVE accomplished over the past month while cooking food for the family, (and yes, having you be her taste tester all through out it), and wait til you're done to ask what you've done to motivate yourself to keep going. If you've got nothing, she's going to tell you to come home with Ruggie at the end of every other week. Yes, home. You're hers now. Good luck escaping custody.
Citlali and Ande Howl couldn't be more opposite in how they try to help you through burn out. Citlali is just a 4'2 ball of energy and affection, you best believe she's got hugs for days, homemade quilts to pile on you, a hot chocolate she meant to give you about 40 minutes ago but forgot while she was rambling, (she'll heat it back up), a child to hand you - wait, no that's going to her husband, that's not your responsibility. She'll talk your EARS off, but you come to love it. Ande is much more stoic, a little intimidating to some, and very awkward. Mans does not know how to come off as friendly. He offers a hug if you need it. Best hug of your life. He will also show you where you can go to brood get a breath of fresh air and relax.
Clara and Ginerva "Nonna" Ashengrotto (you MAY NOT call Nonna anything but Nonna. Only Nonna's friends can call her Ginny, and 'Ms. Ashengrotto' is her daughter.) Clara and her mom are both all too familiar with the dangers of burn out. You get burnt out, you make bad decisions, bad decisions lead to trouble down the road and honey you do not need to make your life any more complicated than it already is. Sit down, stuff your face, listen to jazz, be happy. Basic rules. Your plate will not be allowed to be empty, be prepared to probably eat so much you pass out, which will be the one and only bad decision you make that day, but it's better than Nonna asking why you ain't eatin' her cooking. If you do get too full, don't worry, they'll tease but they'll pack up what's left and the other 27 meals they prepared for you to take home. (Nonna is partially deaf so you will have to raise your voice a bit so she can hear you clearly).
guysguysguysguysguysguysguysguys it's my favourite next do you know who's my favourite I know who's my favourite I literally wrote this just so I could write for her do you know who's my favourite fuck YEAH YOU DO
Valeria Leech (and her husband I guess but I'm pretending Constantine Leech is not there because I want to focus on the queen that is Mama Fucking Leech)(He would be kind of detached anyways he doesn't know you and he doesn't owe you nothin', his wife just said he wasn't allowed to eat you). ANYWAYS. Mama Leech has a lot of energy, Floyd had to get it from somewhere and it is absolutely from his mama. While she can be a little all over the place, clearly her boys appreciate you if they went through the effort to bring you to her, and that means um. You're her kid now too. She will treat you like she treats her sons. This means an overwhelming amount of physical touch (she will tone down if asked or if her husband reminds her that not everyone is comfortable with that), a lot of food being offered to you, you get the (second) best bed in the house, she has already bought you new clothes- ordering on land clothes, but also things tourists to the Coral Sea would wear. Because how can you expect to overcome burn out when you're stuck in a rut and nothing has changed. You need a good sleep schedule, a good meal, and a way to feel fabulous about yourself. And probably a hug and a good cry session. And maybe a hobby to let out all that steam, do you want to learn to fight hand to hand or do you want to collect tiny glass figurines, she'll buy the same subscription as she has if you want she LOVES little glass figurines they're cute and delicate just like elvers are. She will cry when you have to go back to land, promise her you'll call her if you need her for anything. Whether it's a hug or hiding a body. She's got your back. Also in the top 3 mama's tbh but I'm very very very biased but I also still think I'm right.
Akram al Asim is a little lost on what to do, but Kalim cares about you, so so does he. He doesn't really know what to do on an emotional basis, so he gives you money and tells you that if staying in the palace is too much, you're welcome to go stay in one of their private mansions instead. And if you need more money to just ask. So staying at "home" and having someone cook and clean for you while you get to do nothing is a 10/10 way to help burn out. He does not know how to help people that are stubborn or reject his gift unfortunately, he just kinda stands there like a deer in the headlights, then just welcomes you to stay in his home as long as you like. (This is a bad idea, you're a friend of Kalim's and given the family dynamics we know about you may very well be used as leverage, um. yeah. That's not very cash money.)
Nasir and Amani Viper can offer their home and to share dinner with you, but they are kept busy all day. They can recognize burn out - they've seen it in their son, and experienced it themselves, but they've never gotten a break to work through it. They'll tell you to rest, to eat, to make yourself at home, but it's a little awkward to relax when everyone around you is working.
Eric Venue oh dear. oh dear, oh dear oh dear. Burn out is a killer of creativity darling, and we simply cannot have that. Again, not someone who can help all that much directly, he'll toss a little money at you and get you into a luxurious spa to get you to relax again, to rejuvenate your skin and your mind. Also concerned for your mental health and MAY have paid off a therapist to become your friend so you'll never know you're receiving therapy throughout the entire thing, you'll cry, you'll let that out, and you'll never see that friend again. But you don't know that yet and for now you feel better!
The Hunts fall into the bottom category of parents. Ibis Hunt, Rook's next eldest sister (bc I think the Hunt's named their kids after birds), will try her best. She practically raised Rook, so she knows what a good night out by the campfire can do, campfire dinner, marshmallows, a couple goofy songs on the guitar, and a horror story if you think you can handle it. She'll keep your mind off of things.
Meemaw (Marja) Felmier can and will bop you over the head with her cane if she sees you trying to work when you clearly can't anymore. "You're so worn slap out y'ain't got 'nother ounc'a thinkin' in there. Y'got a hankerin' for somethin'? I'll fix it up right quick. Come on now, carryin' on on an empty stomach ain't gonna fix y'problems." She purposely has you sit on the comfiest chair on the house, layers you up in blankets, gives you a stuffy and warm apple cider because she KNOWS you're gonna pass right out. And when you wake up, there will be Marja's famous apple crumble with homemade vanilla ice cream waiting for you, trust.
Dr. Isla and Rodian Shroud are HUGE advocates for self care, but know sometimes it takes another person to pull you away from what's frustrating you. Isla will GLADLY take you on in a gaming competition - and she might even take it easy on you. And you'll hear her full Aussie accent come out any time you over take her in the equivalent of Mario Kart. Rodian is much more likely to be subtle in the way he helps, asking you to come assist on a project. Idle prattle turns into a deeper conversation that lets you open up to him, and the simple tasks he gives you to make you feel like you're being useful help a lot too. If you do end up crying, he'll offer a hug, and then a place to sleep off the rest of the emotions. You'll wake up to a 3D printed figurine of your favourite animal, cookies, and a thermos that kept the milk cold. The last of the Mom top 3 imo. (Mom's do not include grandma's btw thus the exclusion of Vovo and Marja /lh)
Baul Zigvolt okay listen. Modern day? I can't help imagine him with a big beer belly and a laugh to match. He's lost all the intensity he had in chapter 7 (thus far, no spoilers please lol). If you're feeling burnt out, he's giving you food the way he would have given it to baby Sebek - he's still adjusting to humans, so forgive him for cutting everything up so small, but hey, hopefully you won't choke? And some water. He's got a lovely voice, so with your permission, he'll read to you or tell you stories from when he and Lilia were younger - or if you really want it, he'll sing you to sleep...that's his goal anyways. He will not let you sleep in though LMAO, you went to bed early, get ready to be up at the crack of dawn lol.
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Anyways, thanks for reading my Partially Coherent Ramblings. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist
@my-cursed-brain @fluffle-writes @distant-velleity @starry-night-rose @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @lumdays @nemisisnemi
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tojivu · 2 years ago
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# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.
✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy
✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.
✰ — word count ~3k LOL
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nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.
even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.
you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.
you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.
you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.
'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'
one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.
'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.
she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.
the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.
you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.
it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.
it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.
just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.
you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.
──────
"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.
gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.
you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.
"what is it, mr. gojo?"
he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?
"i woke up late today."
"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"
"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."
gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.
"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."
you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.
"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."
you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.
"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."
you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.
you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.
no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.
"nothing about this is funny."
you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."
"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.
you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.
you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.
"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.
you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.
you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.
at least you were self-aware.
your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.
you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.
just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."
you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."
satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."
that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.
nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.
you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.
so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."
you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.
"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."
gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.
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the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.
you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.
you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"
you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."
it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.
"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."
he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.
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gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.
you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.
"miss y/n, you should try some."
you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.
"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."
"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."
you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."
you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.
you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.
he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.
you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.
"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.
gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.
he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.
"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."
you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.
"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.
he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."
his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.
before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.
satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.
you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.
you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.
a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.
it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.
you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.
gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.
it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?
you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.
gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.
there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.
he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"
of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.
"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."
gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."
"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.
"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.
you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."
"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."
"it's still office hours. it's only polite."
gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.
"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."
you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.
"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.
"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."
you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.
"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."
what was the harm in discovering more?
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230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum
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muffinsin · 5 months ago
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Greetings and Salutations, my good Muffin! I was wondering...assuming that reader has clothes from the modern world: which article of clothing of theirs do you think each sister would steal to wear herself? Do you think they'd do it because they like to smell like reader/for reader to smell like them, or do you think they're just generally comfier in reader's clothing? This came to me in a vision of Cassandra wearing an oversized Snoopy sweater, and I have not stopped thinking about it since!
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Hey, hon! What a cute prompt!🙌 and damn, that’s adorable as hell XP
Let’s get into it :)
Masterlists
Bela
At first, she’s a little skeptical towards clothing that isn’t from the village
She wants to be considered fearful, still
Now, that can hardly be so when put in jeans, or leggings, or god forbid, skirts, to her
So, even as you plead with her to wear such things- she often shoots you down
At other times, she accepts, though only wears the clothing you bring her in the privacy of your room
And while she, for a long, long time, sticks to her dress, you often find yourself almost drooling over her in some of your clothing
Her thighs, for example, thick and strong, framed so nicely by a pair of tight jeans
You never get tired of that view, often even try to convince her to put them on merely to look at the clothing item hug her legs
So much gets lost beneath the dress…
Alas, it takes a good amount of time until she wears different things, too, only in your room. She loves her signature dress, after all, one of the gifts presented to her long ago by her mother, one of the things to connect her with her sisters, too. And, of course, not only her signature look, but also one that inspires fear wherever she goes. You need to ease her into it all
And, in time, you get her to put on more than just jeans
You begin easy, with dark clothing, tight, much like her dress. It takes a little while to warm her up to the idea of more comfortable clothing
Simple shirts come next, which, in time, she learns to occasionally pair with the jeans
The look has your head spin and a smile spread on your lips each time without fail
Then, as you begin to lay out more clothing items for her, regardless of whether she will wear them or not, she tries new things
And soon she even discovers;
She loves sweaters
Wool, especially, at times, so long as it isn’t scratchy
She loves to steal any sweater from you at all, and she secretly loves how warm and comfortable they are
Bonus points if they’re way oversized for you and therefore cover her fingertips
Of course, she would never admit this, and you know better than to randomly bring up how utterly adorable your girlfriend looks like that
She doesn’t wear your clothing outside your room, still, but it’s something, already
Often, she even snatches your clothing and puts it on without any prompting at all
Sometimes, she’ll pull up the sleeves, but generally she likes her fingertips covered
It’s just so nice and warm
Perfect for winter, really, when she just gets so cold so easily anyway
During those times she likes to stay in with you, sit by the window and read or work, dressed warm
No one is aware of it, no one gets to see her like this, except for you
Ah, well
You, and her sisters, that is, whenever one enters unnanounced, cooing and inspecting their sister’s clothing with wide eyes and growing curiosity
Often, she swats them away before they have a chance to snatch. This does not, however, stop them from whining her ears off about wanting such “fancy” clothing for themselves, too. Especially if she’s worn it often enough the clothing items smells like their beloved, strong, role-model eldest sister
Typical, really. But you know, she doesn’t mind, and often lay out clothing for her that you know she’ll end up gifting to her younger sisters
Now, admittedly, she likes how comfortable the white sweater she regularly steals from you is
Normally, she isn’t one for comfort, that much is clear. Always pushing more, always the type to keep going and ignore discomfort
But…your clothing is comfortable
And in time, you dare push a little more. Baby steps
Instead of allowing her to change into her nightgown, you urge her to try something else instead;
A pale, comfortable sweater, and a pair of light red, baggy leggings
And while skeptical, she practically melts into the feeling of the soft fabric
She sleeps like that regularly now, occasionally matching you, occasionally wearing pieces you’ve worn before
She’s so comfortable, so happy
It even helps her fall asleep a little faster
Now, despite your begging, she will only very rarely allow you to put an oversized hoodie on her, determined to keep up her intimidating, headstrong aura
She knows, after all, she looks far too cute drowning in a hoodie, perhaps especially due to her height
Cassandra
Cassandra is incredibly curious about all from the “outside world”, as she occasionally calls all that lies beyond the village
Places, animals, phenomenons, of course
But this includes clothing, too
At the castle already, she enjoys most type of clothings. She isn’t big on colorful things, though, sticking mainly to her signature dress
Though, technically, she’s sure she would inspire fear no matter what she’s wearing
And while she loves her signature black dress, she does like to snatch some of your clothing items from you the first chance she gets
It’s just slightly about fashion
Just slightly about the fact it’s from the outside
Just slightly about curiosity
No; really, it’s about your scent that sticks to them, really, around her always
As a huntress, and a predator, she’s extremely used to your smell in no time
And, she finds incredible comfort in it
She loves to be on top of you, secretly loves it when you wrap your arms around her fully and push her face to your neck, allowing her to inhale all of your natural scent
Your clothing- well, it’s very similar as it comes to that
She secretly likes hoodies the best, for the simple reason that they cover so much of her and she can cover her face with the hood
Also, they keep her warm
She won’t accept any clothing other than black, though, and perhaps a very, very dark blue
Multiple times you’ve had to dye something for her, laughing whenever she’d insist she will not wear something pink, green, red, yellow!
She’s so adorable when she fights you regarding those things, snarling and growling, her flies buzzing loudly when you dare lift a bright clothing item towards her
She insists- she wants to look threatening!
You don’t quite understand your murderous girlfriend’s point
Even if you put her in the brightest, cutest yellow hoodie, it would be drenched red in blood in no time, anyway
And, you think, everything suits her
What you like best by far, though, are jeans and leather pants
She’s taken a shine to leather jackets fast, though finds leather pants quite enjoyable, too
Now, to be perfectly honest; you first got her into them out of sheer curiosity and a good amount of desire, too
You love to- when she grants it- touch her up in her dress already
Her round, thick ass sticking out for you, so beautiful beneath the dark dress
Pants, however, bring it out far, far more
You suppose you should be glad looks can’t kill, for you feel your stomach tighten each time you look at her like that, the urge to either take her or spread your legs for her almost overwhelming
Those things aside, Cassandra has taken a shine to most things aside from skirts, which she flat out refuses to wear, finding them to be a great source of humiliation
Often, you’ll find her return to you wearing your shirt and jeans, though, her sickle in her hand, the clothing completely drenched in blood
Ah, but you don’t mind
Not so long as you hear her flies buzz happily
Daniela
Oh, she loves your clothing!
You look so cute in them, and they look so comfortable!
Oh, and they smell so well!
It doesn’t even occur to her that she perhaps ought to ask you for the clothing, she just takes some
She can’t help herself, really
And when she pulls those big, doe-like, golden puppy eyes on you, how can you possibly be upset about her snatching and staining your clothing with blood?
Besides, she looks far too cute in your clothing
The first few things she takes are shirts, sweaters, jeans, shoes. Later on come skirts and dresses
She likes to experiment, really
And, while she tries out just about everything at least once or twice at the start, Daniela finds herself favoring certain items more so than others
She even becomes quite good at putting together a look for herself, unsurprisingly
And as such, you soon find her in more and more of your clothing- the same type of clothing, usually
It seems, your love bug has taken a shine to wearing sweaters combined with skirts, especially
She likes going for cozy outfits like that, looking seemingly effortlessly adorable in the clothing she steals from you regularly
She likes to try many colours, though seems to match the seasons, too
As such, in summer or spring, her clothing tends to be a little brighter, when she isn't wearing her signature black dress
The bright colours really do bring out the sharp contrast of the blood whenever she hunts, though
In winter and autumn on the other hand she likes to stick to softer, even a little washed out shades
She likes beige and soft greens then, even brown, soft, thick skirts occaisonally
Your clothing allows you to tell whenever she's feeling really cold, or especially clingy
These are the times she turns to your hoodies, after all
She'll bury herself in one, the bigger the better, and twist about in a nest of your clothing, humming and sighing dreamily about your scent when you ask her to explain the nest she's made
Occaisonally, she lets go of the hoodies once you're home, then
At other times she just likes to curl up with you, in your clothing still, listening to the apparantly comforting beat of your heart
You're not sure how she doesn't get too warm, really
Speaking of just that- in winter, Daniela really loves to snatch your clothing
She loves her signature dress, of course, and all the big, fancy gowns her mother has gifted to her over the years
Still, they're all rather unfit for winter, even as some are made of thick fabric meant to protect her from the cold
Instead, when the months pass and the air turns bitingly cold, she's often seen wearing your hoodie or sweaters
She still likes to keep on the thick skirts, though usually wears a pair of black tights beneath
Once, she only wore thigh-high ones
And while the look certainly did something to you, it did prove far too light for the cold months, even inside the warm castle. Not to mention both of her sisters and her mother giving you a death glare upon seeing the youngest Dimitrescu family member showing off soft, pale thighs, even as it's only a little area of it, the one between the tights and skirtw
And while you pleaded with her to try to cover fully, if only so you may keep your head, there are...occaisions
Times when you'd have her squirm on the bed adorably, her thighs exposed, the skirt pulled up to her hips, the space between her legs glistening wet, her slit leaking for you
A sweet sight, certainly
And with how open and experimental Daniela is in the bedroom, both of you like to try out new outfits during those times, too
Exciting new opportunities, indeed
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