#and when they do. the person only considers pushing it down again. i mean its reflex at this point. but they let themself feel it and they

[boygirlctommy]

i made 2 new ocs and i love them but one of them is going to die and im upset about it

[euthymiya]

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

[kissatoru]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆

pairing. sub!werewolf!toji fushiguro x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. stories and fables always warn of the big bad wolf, but personally, you think he makes quite a cute pet.

content. PORN WITH PLOT YAYY, no curses/modern/alternate magic au, bratty asf sub!toji, mean dom!reader, reader is super strong and beats toji’s ass lol, canon-typical violence, cigarette smoking, outdoor sex, degradation, brat-taming, mild pet play, shoe humping, cock stepping, pain kink, s/m dynamic, handjob, edging, pet (?) names (darling, sweetheart [receiving; condescendingly] + pup, puppy, puppy dog [giving; also condescendingly]), anal fingering, spit and cum as lube, spanking, reader refers to themself as ‘master’ once, morally grey + dubcon ending

notes. finally finished!! thank you for your patience til now :,) this fic kinda ran away from me while i was writing it so it’s different to what i initially planned but hopefully people are still into it. also it’s my first time writing toji so i hope i did him justice!! anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy<3

wc. 9.2k

The footsteps started when you were about halfway home.

In sync with yours. Heavy yet carefully quiet, faint but noticeable, at least to someone who goes on walks in the woods as often as you. Human, as well — too calculated not to be — and someone with a broader gait, by the sounds of it.

After a few moments of inner-debate, you stop. The footsteps stop too.

Your eyes swiftly scan your surroundings. Nothing — but you keep your guard up as you slip a cigarette out of the tin in your coat’s breast pocket, then a lighter from your trouser pocket. Between your lips, you rest the cigarette and cup your hand over the lighter’s flame. Its warmth is intimate against your cold skin, in both its temperature and familiarity. The thin misty stem of scorched tobacco blooms in the air.

You absentmindedly dig a little divot in the dirt with the tip of your shoe, and chance another curt look around you, but still nothing. Minutes tick by and eventually you decide to resume your walking, though at a more leisurely pace this time. And as you do so, those footsteps return — tenfold. Soft, distant taps turn into violent hits against the earth. Nearer and nearer they draw, but you keep facing forward, not a stutter in your step or a falter in the lazy in and out of smoke.

Until a looming presence enters your peripheral vision.

A blur is your only warning. Then an arm cinches around your throat.

You jab your lit cigarette into the man’s arm. A raspy, “Son of a bitch,” puffs into your ear, but he doesn’t let go.

Okay. Don’t panic. Focus.

You try again. Spread your stance. Secure your grip. Jump, legs in the air, and throw yourself back down. His body hunches over yours. You propel back up. Hurl him over your back.

He grunts as his body slams the ground. You rush to immobilise him. He manoeuvres out of the way.

Back on his feet in seconds, he’s already charging at you. Too fast for you to dodge. You block with your arms. His fist lands like a nuclear bomb. Pure power. All at once. Leaves aftershocks like an earthquake. But still, you stay standing.

Your assailant huffs, something that sounds both pissed off and surprised, before he directs another attack. Straight for your torso.

You catch his wrist and twist it. He thrusts a leg out at your feet.

The forest around you flips upside down. Your back and the ground collide. Pain in your spine. A shadow above you. Weight on your hips. Pressure around your neck.

You grip one of your attacker’s arms. Pivot your feet round his legs. Ram your pelvis upward.

Your vision carousels. You’re on top of him. He pushes you off.

On your feet. Both of you.

A narrow miss, the edge of his knuckles swiping past your temple.

You leap back. He surges forward.

You attack before he does — a roundhouse kick to his face.

The assailant’s head spins ninety degrees. He brings a hand up to his nose, sharply inhaling as he touches it, before turning back to you.

He swings again. You knock it away. Strike his diaphragm. Then his skull.

He doubles over. You double down. Spear your knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Full force, no respite. You aim for his diaphragm again with the heel of your foot.

He stumbles backwards and hits a tree. His body slumps to the ground.

He goes to get up. You pin your shoe to his sternum and shove him back. “Stay down.” You lean forward, his rib cage fighting against the compression. “Who are you? Why are you attacking me?”

Blood oozes down his chin from his nose. “Why d’ya think I’d tell you anything?”

You answer with a backhanded smack across his face.

He coughs at the impact and spits out the blood in his mouth. “Feisty, aren’t ya?” His lips stretch into a vengeful smile, laying bare his orange-stained teeth.

That’s when you notice a distinguishable scar, thick and ridged, spliced through his lip. Next, his teeth — tapered, dog-like. Then the pointy mammal ears sticking out of his hair, the furry black tail resting beside him…

There’s no doubt in your mind. It’s him. World renowned assassin: Hellhound, the Sorcerer Killer. Half-man, half-wolf; rumoured to be the only one of his kind. Willing to do anything for the right price is his motto. Until now, you’ve only ever heard of him, but now that you’re face to face… Well, he certainly looks the part, but if he was really as good as people say he is, your current positions would likely be reversed.

“I take it my reputation precedes me?” Toji pipes up cockily, apparently picking up on the recognition in your stare.

You avoid the question, lest it feeds the ego that is undoubtedly big enough already. “How much are you getting paid?”

Toji wipes the blood under his nose and looks up at you. “Not enough to be dealing with all this, tha’s for sure,” he remarks snidely.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind giving me the details of your employer.”

“Nah,” Toji argues back with slitted eyes and a chin angled up arrogantly. “Afraid I’m bound by contract, sweetheart.”

You smack him again, but all it does is garner a chuckle.

“If slapping me’s as far as you’re willin’ to go to get me to talk,” Toji scoffs before gazing up at you, “then we’re gonna be here a while, darlin’.”

Eyes narrowed, you contemplate other courses of action, different methods of both torture and persuasion.

As if embracing his current position, Toji rests back against the tree, casual despite the circumstances being everything but. “Look. You’re not gonna get me to rat out my client, alright? So unless you wanna start talking numbers, I suggest you just give–”

Your boot stomps down on Toji’s groine.

His jaw drops open and an almost inaudible moan spills out. “Ah… fuck.”

Not quite the reaction you were going for. Still, you curiously lean your leg forward, pressing the sole of your shoe down harder against Toji’s crotch. His head slumps forward, dark hair curtaining over his eyes. A barely-suppressed groan finds its way out of him.

“No way,” you breathe, incredulous. “You like this, don’t you?” You stifle a laugh. “What, not every day you get your ass handed to you, huh? I bet you didn’t even know you were into this.”

He peers up at you, grin flashing like a switchblade. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

“Oh, I don’t have to act like it.” You roll your foot around in focused circles, watching how Toji’s breath gets heavier with each one. Your silhouette towers over him, tall and proud; carving its shape into the veil of moonlight behind you. All your features melt away in the shadows draped over your face — all except your smile, which perseveres with deadly determination and even deadlier teeth. They’re not anything special, sure; they don’t hold a light to Toji’s, yet they instil a sense of unease that someone of his size and strength and species is entirely unfamiliar with. And as he watches your tongue glide across the edge of them, shining and sinister, he realises that maybe it’s not the teeth themselves that are the threat. Maybe it’s what lies behind them; the person they belong to, who is staring down at him like a tiger eyeing a pound of flesh.

“You’re the one whose pitiful dick is under my boot right now, after all.”

Matted black ears tuck back against his head, just as any cornered animal’s might, as Toji scowls up at you. “Shut up. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

You look him up and down, from the tips of his twitchy ears to the bottom of his fluffy tail. The pinkening of his cheeks, his glossy eyes staring up at you. Puppylike. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea actually,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Toji snarls. “I’m warning y…” A breathy moan slips past his defences, so delicate you’d never suspect it could come from a man as big and burly as him. “Fuck– fuck you. If you’re gonna touch me, at least do it properly, you fucking… coward.”

His glare melts into scrunched eyebrows and squeezed-shut eyes as you sink more pressure onto his cock.

“Why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine like this,” you tease, and follow it with a quickened but not yet fast pace; something steady enough to not be teasing but slow enough to keep him wanting.

Toji growls. “Bastard,” he spits, but the word’s intention is lost in the air that flutters around it, turning it soft and feeble as his jaw quivers. Another brief second of honesty, a momentary crack in his composure, but that locked jaw returns as soon as Toji notices it. The look on his face is unchanged, but you’re not sure if it’s because he truly believes he’ll come out on top by the end of this, or if he’s just waiting for you to prove you’re worthy of his surrender.

“It’s not enough,” he pants out. His hands clench into fists around the soil he sits in as his hips move against your shoe. It’s still not discreet enough to go unnoticed by you — though you opt to avoid mentioning it, in favour of continuing down the path of opportunity he’s already opened up for you with his response.

“No, I think it is,” you insist, syncing your foot’s movements to Toji’s hips. Already so lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realise it. “I think you could cum just like this, riding my shoe like a worthless whore.”

Clawed fingers and calloused palms constrict around your calf. The tightness of his grip gives the impression that he’s trying to stop you, but you can feel the way he uses it to meet his grinding motions.

It’s quite the show, really. A man — a beast — like Toji, beneath you in such a way, with his eyes closed in oblivious concentration, his lips parted ever so slightly and his strained breaths hot against your shin. Dark lashes on rosy cheeks. Hair swept across his eyes, shifting with every movement.

It’s too bad it can’t last.

What you said certainly implies that you plan to make him finish like this, but all it really is is a trap. No beast can truly resist temptation, after all, and Toji is no different. He’ll pretend to hate every second of this, but there is no denying that the only reason you’ve gotten this far is because he wants it. Desperately. Carnally. He might scowl at your degrading words, but in the end, he chases after the promise that’s whispered over their shoulder, the promise that he longs for so deeply that he doesn’t realise its hushed voice is really his own in disguise.

You rake your fingers through his hair, collecting sweat and the strands obscuring his face into a fist. A yank drags his face into the moonlight, and a groan from his throat. “Alright, that’s enough,” you declare, the words cutting and final. “Get off me, fleabag.”

Toji’s lip curls up in a snarl and his canines gleam beneath the pale skin. “The fuck d’ya mean ‘that’s enough’?”

You scoff. “Exactly that.” Darkness drips over Toji’s face as you lean over him. “Now get off of me before I fucking make you.”

For a second, you think you’ll need to repeat yourself one more time — his eyes are narrowed and his lips pursed, a look of reluctance if you’ve ever seen it — but then the hands around your leg loosen, until all that’s left behind is the autumn breeze against the lingering imprint of his warm palms. The grin you find yourself wearing is so wide you feel your teeth pressing through your lips. A brat’s obedience, no matter how small, is always a victory worth celebrating.

“So what now?” Toji sighs and leans back on his hands, legs still spread. Boredom sculpts his features, but the colour in his cheeks betrays his façade. Try as he might, he’s not nearly as good at hiding his true desires as he thinks. And when you only smile in response, he raises an eyebrow. “Well?” A scarred hand confidently slides down to the space between his thighs, the thick fingers parting and tracing the silhouette of his hard cock. Wolfish fangs pull at his bottom lip and a harsh breath rushes out through his nose. “You just gonna stand there… or are you gonna come and finish what you started?”

You lean your weight back, arms folded across your chest, and chuckle. “I can’t really win, can I?” you say with playful resignation. “Either way, you’ll enjoy it.”

He grins — the kind of shit-eating grin that’s designed to scorch your nerves down to their roots. Whether that’s a good or a bad kind of sensation depends entirely on the person. In Toji’s case? It’s somehow both.

“Better make your choice quick then,” Toji remarks, his tone equal parts raspy and sultry. “If ya don’t hurry, I’ll just finish myself off right here and now.” The tip of his tongue peeks out between his sharp moonlit teeth, mirroring your action from before.

You snicker and give him a pitied once-over. “Darling, I assure you that’s not the threat you think it is.”

Furry ears jerk in place as Toji sucks his teeth. “Get down here and suck my cock before I rip your throat out then.” The words tumble out of him like he’s rushing to get them out — evidence of his growing desperation, or perhaps of his courage, waning in the imminent promise of consequence.

“There,” he says with finality, lips stretched into a half-cocky, half-frustrated snarl. “‘That threatenin’ enough for ya now, bitch?”

You swiftly snatch his face up in one hand and Toji flinches — just a split-second scrunch of his eyes, but it’s enough to tell you caught him off guard. You’re not really acting out of anger so much as greed though; craving and chasing after those tiny yet monumentally satisfying slip-ups in his reactions. “You are awful mouthy for some dog that was humping my foot until a minute ago.”

“Yeah, and?” he barks back, with enough gall to still be smiling against your palm. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Suppressing another laugh, you draw closer to him; not quite eye-level, just ever so slightly elevated. “You know, it’d be kind of cute how badly you want me to fuck you if you weren’t so fucking insufferable about it.” Your nails, though blunt in comparison to Toji’s claws, carve impressive crescents into his skin under the force of your tensed fingers. “But don’t forget that you’re below me, mutt. I can stop any time. I can go home and never think about you again, but you?” You laugh through your nose and push his skull into the bark of the tree behind him. A clawed hand clamps around your wrist, but you don’t move an inch. “You’ll be the one jerking off in the middle of a fucking forest, like some filthy creep, fantasising about all the things I didn’t do to you but could have had you just stopped being a brat for one goddamn second.”

An airy breath leaves you, charged with equal parts exasperation and glee and resulting in something akin to a laugh. The mockery behind the noise fails to affect Toji, however. Those night-black ears remain flat against his skull, and those indigo eyes remain glaring at you, but the tightly-sealed lips below them tell you he’s biting his tongue — figuratively, though perhaps also literally. It doesn’t seem too far of a stretch to assume he’d go to such lengths to keep from arguing back, after all.

You smooth your free hand over your hair and readjust the grip of the other on Toji’s face. He grunts at the action, but those lips don’t budge, not even a twitch. The silence that follows is unfamiliar, but not completely unwelcome. Even rewarding, in a way.

“So what’s it gonna be, puppy dog?” you ask lazily, though not without that telltale flicker of amusement in your voice. “Are you gonna be a good boy?” You tilt your head and smirk. “Or would you prefer to jizz here in the dirt with just your hand and imagination like a pathetic loser instead?”

You feel how he grinds his teeth, that slow mechanical shift of his jaw and the muffled chalky sound of bone grating against bone in his mouth. Curiosity beckons you to wonder what’s going on inside that head of his; what words he’s rummaging through his mind for, what kind of responses he’s drafting and redrafting, if any at all. What does a beast of his calibre have to say to a lowly human like you, daring to tame and subdue him?

In the darkness below your form, you catch a cautionary rise and fall of his hips. Just one small short nudge of his pelvis, forwards then back again. And before you can comment on it, Toji speaks, low and not entirely begrudgingly:

“Put me in my place then.”

Immediately, your lips slide into a smile, but you restrain from getting too excited just yet. “Is that an order? Or a plea?”

Midnight eyes dart away from yours; no words follow.

“Well? Answer me,” you snap at him. “You can do it now or I can just leave, remember? Either option is fine by me.”

Toji groans. “It’s… I’m– I’m asking.” He sighs heavily and the hand around your wrist loosens, twitches. He still refuses to look at you amidst this all, it seems. But you wait some more, let the silence linger a little longer, just in case.

He sighs again. Still doesn’t look at you, but a quiet little, “Please,” squeezes through gritted teeth.

“Can I get that in a full sentence?” you say, polite enough to seem genuine at first, but paired with that condescending grin of yours, it’s not at all convincing. “I just want to be sure I’m understanding you correctly.”

Toji’s eyes finally return to yours. “You’re pushing your fucking luck,” he growls.

“Oh, I am? I’m pushing my luck?” You pause, but not to let him answer; on your face is a look that tells him he’s the one pushing his luck, that he’s misstepped — and should take that step back before he regrets it. “Sorry, who’s doing who a favour by being here, again?” You’re no longer smiling, but the condescension in your tone remains. “Remind me because I seem to have forgotten.”

His eyes flick away and you’re met instead with the silence you have grown somewhat fond of.

Then, eventually: “You,” he answers and his Adam’s apple bumps against your wrist as he swallows. “I want you to…” He hesitates, tense neck muscles relaxing in your hand, eyes closing, pressing shut. Hard. Reluctant, even now.

“To put me in my place… Please.”

A sickeningly delighted snicker escapes your throat. “Well done, puppy,” you praise, giving a few patronising pats to his cheek, making Toji flinch, before you let go of his face. “I knew you could do it! Who’s a good boy?” You ruffle his hair alongside your fake coo to rub salt into his wounded ego.

Toji sucks his teeth, refusing to give you the satisfaction of anything other than that as a reaction to your satirical tease. You just hum to yourself gleefully. You’re happy either way — you have him right where you want him, after all.

You stand up straight, returning to your position above him. “Alright. Be a doll and take your pants off for me.”

A scarred lip tugs up toward his cheekbone, canine teeth peering out. “No ‘please’?”

Easy as that, the cheerful expression on your face distils into stone cold eyes and unmoving lips, leaving the wordless air to speak for you. Briskly after, Toji begins sliding off his black pants until they bunch up at his ankles. He looks up at you. “Want my shoes off too, perv?” he jokes, proudly grinning.

Ignoring him, you step over his legs, so your feet are either side of them, then sit down. His thighs squirm under you.

“Uh, what–”

“Be quiet,” you demand.

And for once, Toji does so without further hesitation or questioning.

Your fingertips trail down his torso, his skin spasming under the fabric of his t-shirt at the featherlight contact. Down his chest, stomach, navel, catching on the waistband of his underwear, passing over it. Fingers dance and butterfly around the outline of his cock and back again. Slow and gentle but purposeful touches. His chest stutters, his abdominal muscles contract. You continue, motions repeating in hypnotic succession of one another like shifting waves. The thighs beneath you begin to fidget again.

“Stay still,” you say with a pointed look.

A restrained groan. “When are you gonna–”

“Whenever I damn well feel like it,” you scold, “but not at all if you don’t watch yourself.” You make sure to give him another sharp glare before you resume.

Elastic gives under the pull of your fingers and glides down his hips until they tuck under his balls. Cool air envelopes his cock and yanks a hiss out from between Toji’s teeth. Your fingers spread again, over the exposed tip, then back again to paint small circles around the wet slit.

A blunt thump brings your attention to Toji’s face, where the foliage above projects its fragile forms onto it. His head is tilted back against the tree behind him, mussed furry ears flush against the bark and restlessness manipulating the rest of his features. The shameless clarity of his struggle fans the flames of your excitement.

Your fingers change shape again and wrap loosely around Toji’s length. The edge of a harsh sigh catches on the ends of your hair, brushing it up as you move your hand down, and up, then down again. The writhing of his thighs dominoes into his hips, which jump up, seemingly involuntarily.

Just this once, you choose not to indulge in your own selfish enjoyment — as a reward for his almost exclusively obedient behaviour since you began touching him — and mercifully grant Toji the relief of your whole hand, curling it to fit around the shape of his dick. A half-cut-off gasp unfolds in the space between you, but nothing more. You smile nonetheless. “Does that feel good?”

Toji’s head adjusts against the tree, eyelids pinching and tightening. “What kinda question is that? F’course it does.”

You hum. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still responsive.”

Toji opens his eyes, hooded but still catching the moonlight, to flash you a confident look. “You won’t break me that easily.”

Yet his self-assured tone cracks when you suddenly tighten your grip around him and hasten your pace.

“Wait, don’t– not that fast–” He gasps and reaches for your wrist, but you swat it away. You change the pace again, and again. Soft, hard, slow, quick. And all Toji can do is mutter expletives and squeeze his fists around handfuls of dirt.

“I’m… close,” Toji warns breathily.

“Really?” you snort. Granted, you’d teased him for a while before this, but you’re still shocked. He must have been more into this than even you had noticed. “You must be popular in the bedroom, huh?” you quip. “They call you Two-Minute-Toji?”

Thick eyebrows furrow as a half-hearted snarl seeps out from Toji’s lips. “God, do you ever shut–” He moans and grabs at your thighs, the tips of his claws piercing through your clothing. “I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck–”

Your touch vanishes before Toji’s words can come true, allowing you to watch the ecstasy melt off his face in real time. A series of emotions pass through in its place: first confusion, then realisation until, finally, disappointment. Outrage. Desperation.

Maybe you’re just sadistic, but you find it to be a good look on him.

In the spur of the moment, Toji attempts to finish what you so cruelly and prematurely left incomplete, but you capture his wrists and raise up on your knees to pin them above his head.

“Shit!” he exclaims, wide chest still sinking and swelling from his near-high. “What the fuck’s your problem? Why’d you stop?”

Exactly the kind of response you’d expected, of course. An entirely reasonable one at that, but still — you’re unable to fend off the smirk that grows at the sight of it. This is just the start, and he’s already so upset? Shivers take over you at the thought of how unprepared he is for the torture to come.

“You made me work for what I want. It’s only fair I get to do the same to you,” you explain matter-of-factly. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Toji’s ears flap with vexation; you’re sure he only means to be angry, but to you, he resembles a sulking puppy.

You release his hands and move them to his shoulders. “So here’s how this is gonna go,” you start cheerily. “When you’re close, you tell me. Don’t, and I’ll ruin your beloved orgasm, right then and there!” You pinch his cheek in a faux-flirty way. “Got that, my little mutt?”

Toji frowns with something like judgement. “What sort of sick game is this?”

“Does it really matter so long as you cum at the end?” you counter, but Toji remains unconvinced.

“‘Course it does,” he replies. “What’s the point in making me wait if I can have it now?”

Such simplistic, almost childlike logic; it makes you giggle. “The point is a little thing called delayed gratification,” you say in that typical patronising tone, the one that Toji has become so dreadfully accustomed to.

“Delayed for who?” He eyes you, up and down. “You’re loving every second of this.”

You giggle again. “Oh, come on,” you beckon. “Don’t you want to know how good it feels?” One of your hands drops down his torso and Toji’s eyes follow just in time to see it curl its fingers around the drooling head of his cock. “Being denied over and over, that tension building higher and higher each time…” His jaw quivers when you slowly twist your wrist. “How sensitive you get, how desperate…” You drag and pull. Twist again. “And the rush of not knowing if this time you’ll get to cum…”

Toji grunts as his dick slaps against his stomach.

“Or be denied again!” Your laugh then is inevitable, but still it feels too sweet and innocent of a sound, given the cause of it is a man’s torment.

“Okay, enough. You’ve made your point,” Toji says in a flurry, before you can add anything else. “Stop talking and just…” You hear him swallow and study the way it makes the muscles of his neck ripple. “Show me.”

Those two words are the starting pistol to your well-earned entertainment — and Toji’s well-deserved misery. Your experienced and adaptable hands, paired with your watchful eyes and insatiable desire to inflict suffering, make for a dangerous concoction. And the fact that Toji is oblivious to that knowledge just makes the thrill of it all the more invigorating. Still, you pace yourself; remind yourself that patience may be bitter, but its fruit is sweet and lies waiting for you. Time is the least of your worries and the forest around you topples amidst the routine you’ve choreographed for you both. You work him up, soaking in his helplessness, and pull the floor out from under him when he’s at his most vulnerable, watching how that helplessness snowballs and the cycle repeats; watching him groan, gasp, whimper and curse under his breath. Like a feline playing with its food, you relish every moment of it, all while dreaming of how good it will taste once you finally feast.

“Close, so close, so close,” Toji mumbles. “M’gonna cum–”

Your hand jolts away from his dripping cock and with it, Toji’s hips buck up so hard, so desperately, that your knees lose contact with the ground for a second.

“How many times is that now?” you ask. You already know how many, you just want to make him say it.

Body slack against the tree, Toji’s eyes blink slowly at you. “F–four,” he says with a weak wince. “Fuck. When are you gonna let me cum?”

You make a contemplative noise. “I don’t know,” you say as you boredly doodle patterns on Toji’s shirt. “Maybe after… four or five more times?”

“You’re fucking joking,” Toji chokes out in disbelief, but that sincere gleam in your eyes stays. He runs a palm down his face. You don’t miss the way his tinted face saturates. “That’s– nine times? Are you crazy? That’s not–” His throat feels like it’s all dried up. He steadies his voice. “There’s… no way I’m waiting that long.”

“No?” you echo, your eyebrows raised. “Is it too much to handle for Two-Minute-Toji?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Toji hisses. “It’s nothing to do with me. You’re just insane.”

So defensive, you think, amused, but don’t let it show. Instead, you sit back thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point,” you agree. Meanwhile, your hands gain a mind of their own, caressing his hips, abdomen, inner thighs; brushing up against his dick every so often. “Four times is already quite a lot…” Finally, your gaze falls to your unforgiving fingers, where you’ve been toying at the cusp of Toji’s composure. “Just one more then,” you compromise and glimpse at Toji.

He doesn’t hide the irritated noise he makes at your offer, but he does think twice about his instinctual reply — which ends up being futile, since he chooses to say it anyway.

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll agree to that.”

You tilt your head and blink at him. “So… you want to cum now, is what you’re saying?” you ask, and Toji opens his mouth to answer but you suddenly grab his cock with a tight fist — and not the pleasurable kind. His jaw clamps shut, a slice of whistling air rushing in through his teeth. A paw-like hand whips out next, attempting to get rid of yours, but you slap it away and use your other hand to engulf the head of his cock in just as cruel a hold.

“Would cumming now make the spoiled mutt happy?” you mock.

His attempts to remove your hands persist, but each time you just push him away and squeeze harder. “Ah, shit, that fucking– hurts, you asshole! Let go–”

“Answer the question first,” you say sternly.

Toji’s thighs are thrashing now, and his hands have resorted to clinging onto your arms. His breaths leave him as hard as if he was on the verge of climax; the irony makes you laugh inwardly.

“Fuck, fine,” Toji heaves. “Yes, yes I want to cum now. Let me cum. Please.”

You keep your hands on him for a second longer than probably necessary before finally letting go. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say with a grin.

Talking back again crosses Toji’s mind, but he thinks better of it. “Whatever. Just… get on with it already.”

As with the previous four times, getting him to the edge again doesn’t take long. Especially since now you’re armed with the knowledge of where he’s most sensitive, what he likes best and how much to do of each to get the most debauched sounds out of him. You have him panting and rolling his hips in time with your hands in just a few short minutes. One hand on your shoulder, the other carving gashes into a tree root bulging out of the soil; a reminder of Toji Fushiguro’s monstrous nature.

It’s easy to forget you’re taming a beast when he’s so pathetic all of the time.

“Ah, ah, I’m close,” Toji moans. His knuckles go taut-white, then relax, then repeat. In the throes of pleasure, his baritone voice has softened into something lighter. “F–fuck, I’m gonna cum! I wan– I wanna cum!”

The next upward stroke of your hand slides the rest of the way off, yet again depriving Toji of the orgasm he keeps chasing. In its absence, the reddened tip of his cock drools a drop of precum.

Toji shouts, gravelly and breathless, into the open air. “No! No, what– what the fuck?!” There seems to be a wetness in his eyes, but you think it could just be a trick of the light. “You… you said you’d let me cum this time!”

“Did I say that?” you muse — recalling very vividly, in fact, that you conveniently never said those words. Whether or not that was on purpose is anybody’s guess, since you doubt Toji’s foggy brain remembers such semantics. “I don’t think I did.”

Toji scowls at you, but his aggravation runs off of you like water on a duck’s back; you can’t take him too seriously when his face is so flushed, cheeks practically aglow with colour and slowly spreading down his neck. A quick tongue swipes over his lips, which have gone dry from the progressively increasing frequency of open-mouthed noises.

Out of something akin to instinct or impulse, you find yourself leaning in — close. Until you’re brushing noses, lips only inches from each other, sharing the same breath of air. Silver-blue eyes flick down your face and linger a little too long to be accidental.

You pull away, laughing.

“You are way too fun to toy with,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Toji before looking up at him. “Did you think I was gonna kiss you just then?”

“No,” Toji sputters out, appearing offended that you would even think such a thing. “I’d bite your tongue off if you tried.”

His threat only makes you chuckle. “We’ll see how much longer you can keep up that attitude,” you say, scrunching up the front of his t-shirt in your fist, “once I’m through with you.”

Your lips collide so immediately that you almost don’t realise Toji is the one to close the final rift of space between you. Like a volatile chemical reaction, the kiss escalates. Potent, rabid, vulgar. Animalistic. Teeth nip at flesh, blood and saliva blend and smear down chins.

At the same time, your hand occupies itself with the same delectable song and dance you’ve come to know so well. The prelude — an open palm, skimming across the head of Toji’s cock; a dainty back and forth, like a bow across violin strings, and Toji’s noises a melody writing itself on your lips. You steer the flow of his sound like a conductor with a symphony, building the bridge, climbing towards the chorus, the crescendo just in sight… Then with a flourish, it all descends back down again, hushed into a temporary interlude, before ebbing into a reprise. Over and over, you play this orchestrated tune; over and over and over, until each note has been played to its fullest and rang out into silence.

Eventually, you get up.

Left in your wake, beneath you, Toji is a mess of the man he was. Eyes glazed over. Lips pink and damp. Cock blushing, slick, swollen. Hips jumping in search of relief. It took denying him almost ten times, but regardless, he’s all yours now. Pliant and at your mercy, like a common prey animal.

“Roll over, boy,” you say, just like you would to an actual dog, as you make a circling gesture with your finger. “I want you on your hands and knees.” You tap his bare thigh with the side of your shoe. “Go on. Hands and knees. Like a good little dog.”

Shakily, Toji turns around. Soil pools around his knees where they sink. One hand wraps around that same scratched up root from before, the other braces against the base of the tree. His head hangs limp between his shoulders.

You kneel behind him and tug his underwear down his toned thighs. Goosebumps multiply over Toji’s exposed skin, first at the breeze that briefly grazes it, next at the fingers that replace it. Both your hands span out across the expanse of Toji’s ass, a soothing sensation against the goosebumps despite being so foreign to him. Your thumbs wander away from the rest of your fingers and toward the patch of skin between his tail and the base of his spine. Experimentally, the pads of your thumbs grind down into it.

Toji makes a noise that could arguably be classified as a yelp and his tail bushes up, almost hitting you in the face with how skittishly it swings out.

“W–watch it,” Toji whinges. “Don’t be so rough.”

“Oh? Is it sensitive?” you taunt.

Even now, on all fours with his bare ass in front of you, the embers of Toji’s pride prevent him from admitting even the slightest implications of weakness. You, however, are no stranger to such behaviour, and do not let it deter you from your goal.

Your thumbs continue wandering, dipping below his tail. They rotate inward, pulling apart the thick meat of his ass to reveal a soft, puckered hole. You succumb to temptation and prod at it. It tenses, along with the rest of Toji’s muscles.

Toji turns his head over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he breathes, almost sounding worried or angry, definitely trying to sound assertive — but you can tell he’s more nervous than anything. Flustered, even.

You pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

His features contort, as if perplexed. “It’s weird.” He turns back around. “Don’t even know why you would wanna touch back there.”

The reason is simple to you. “Because it feels good.” Thoughtlessly, you knead your thumb against the virgin hole, observing how it clenches, as if inviting you in. “Inside, I mean,” you clarify.

“Ins– inside?” Toji repeats, like the concept is unfathomable to him. “Like, inside of– me?”

“Yeah,” you deadpan, though, admittedly, you are somewhat entertained. Perhaps he truly is so oblivious that it skews his logical thinking, but you suspect that the true cause is the lust that clouds his mind. Whether from his need for release or from a late-onset sexual epiphany, you find it almost endearing how naïve and innocent his response makes him seem. “So… Can I keep going?”

“Uh…” Toji, subconsciously, it seems, arches his back ever so slightly in your direction. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

“In that case,” you usher and place a hand between his shoulder blades, “lower your chest for me some more.”

With the sheer density of muscle fibre beneath your fingertips alone, those defined contours mapped out across his broad back, visible even through his clothes, you expect some resistance — but he gives like freshly fallen snow, without so much as a groan of indignation, and yields his form until he’s flush with the ground.

In this position, he opens up on his own. Hole lewdly exposed, as if presenting to you. His tail hangs over it, out of humiliation or to protect his dignity you assume, but with one simple order, you have Toji holding it out of the way for you, making him appear even more pathetic.

Leaning over him, you trickle some saliva onto Toji’s hole. It spasms as the fluid lands on it.

“Did you just spit on–” Toji cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “That’s… fucking disgusting.”

“Your tail seems to think otherwise,” you retort, referring to how the appendage subtly wags.

Toji buries his face in the crook of one arm. “That thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Ever so slightly poking out over the top of his bicep, however, is the scarlet tip of one ear.

You chuckle. “Sure.”

With that, you run a fingertip through the slimy fluid, collecting it from where it started dripping down his taint and spreading it out. Tentatively, you nudge your finger inside. The muscle clenches at the breach.

“Relax,” you tell Toji.

He grunts. “What do you think I’m tryna do?”

A rare streak of sympathy has your other hand reaching down to Toji’s cock and planting a few distracting touches. Slowly, the stiffness around your finger eases up, and steadily, you push past each knuckle until it’s seamlessly tucked away inside.

“How much longer…” A soft moan reverberates in the back of Toji’s throat as your finger pulls out of him. “‘T–til I can cum?”

You hum and give a few slothful pumps. “Between two minutes and two hours.” Toji’s subsequent groan of protest makes your smile stretch out like a cat. “Why? You’re not at your limit, are you?”

“You kidding? I could–” You sneak another finger on the next slide in and Toji shudders, gulps. “I could do this all day,” he finishes quietly.

The hand on his dick stops its task momentarily to lather Toji’s precum over your two fingers. You scissor them attentively, observing Toji’s facial reactions; as much as you can, at least, given he’s concealing them. Luckily, though, it seems you won’t need them anyway, with how the rest of his body is uncovering all those secrets for him — the fingers around his tail flexing, hips rocking back against your fingers, dick leaking incessantly despite your minimal touches. To think he’s already so weak to his lustful desires when you haven’t even skirted that particular place inside him; the one you’ve intentionally been avoiding.

“Are you sure you can take any more?” you tease. “It seems to me like–”

“I can take whatever you give me,” Toji interrupts gratingly.

You wonder if he can hear how ruined he sounds, but suppose that even if he does, he likely doesn’t see the humour in it that you do.

“We’ll see about that.”

After adding some more spit, you’re easing in a third finger. Just as you predicted, Toji’s body wriggles more restlessly under you. Breaths staggering as you bump into the hilt of your fingers. You bend them probingly and it lures out a fluttery moan.

Your eyes flit over Toji’s form, lips taking the shape of a salacious smile. “How are you doing over there?”

But before he has the time to even think of a witty reply, he’s tearing new claw marks into the tree bark and whining out, not unlike a dog in heat — which, in some ways, is not far from reality.

“Wow. I didn’t think you were capable of making a sound like that,” you comment. In truth, you’ve always had a knack for turning even the most unsuspecting of victims into your needy little toys; the only difference between them is how long it takes to do so. “Mind making it again?” you purr.

Regardless of what Toji’s answer may have been — though you predict it would have been something snippy or dismissive — your fingers are once again prying out a frail whine from him as he barely manages to maintain his grip on his tail.

You pull your fingers out, almost all the way, and when you push them back in again, you have your pinky finger join, poking at the edge of Toji’s entrance. “Think you can take one more?”

Toji whimpers at your suggestion. “Fuck, yes please,” he begs — something even you had begun doubting you could get him to do, and so is all the more gratifying to hear.

And just like that, you have the deadly mercenary, Toji Fushiguro, better known as Hellhound, the mighty Sorcerer Killer, riding four of your fingers like he was made for nothing else. Whining and whimpering — two things that no one would believe he did if you told them. Dribbling a puddle of his arousal into the dirt below him even in the absence of your hand. Tail jerking uncontrollably, occasionally slipping from his hold and earning himself an admonishing spank, which only serves to break him down further.

A shaking hand clasps onto your wrist, driving its thrusting motions harder and deeper into himself. “God, I’m gonna cum,” Toji sobs. “Please let me cum, please, please.”

His words make you realise that you never actually answered his question from before. Not really, not seriously. In the grand scheme of things, sure, it was always in your plan to let him cum; an irrefutable certainty. And, as large as your appetite is, you’ve had your fill now — are brimming with it, in fact — but Toji doesn’t know that, and that’s what makes you smile. Even now, you long to overflow with the joy of terrorising him. Even now, you fail to turn a deaf ear to the siren call of your deepest, darkest, most lecherous desires. In all your differences, this weakness, this unquenchable yearning of the flesh, is one that you and Toji are both cursed with.

You lean over the muscular man below you, just enough so your hot breath beats over his back. “Only good dogs get to cum,” you murmur as your fingers bully that awfully euphoric cluster of nerves, “and good dogs can beg better than that.”

Sweat permeates off him in waves and you can’t tell if the goosebumps on his skin are from the outdoor air blowing on the moisture or from the embarrassment of the demeaning act that he’s about to commit, all to appease his meagre human wants.

Cheek trapped against the dirt, Toji’s teeth flash on full display as he whimpers out. “Ahh, fuck, m’sorry… I don’t deserve it… but please let me– let me cum.” Wet eyelashes, all clumped together and satiny, flutter as Toji’s eyes fight to stay open. “M’so sorry. I’ll do anything, please.”

Anything. So vague and all-encompassing; only a small-minded fool would make the mistake of promising ‘anything’. And small-minded fools? Well, you’re not one yourself, but you certainly know your way around making one. And Toji Fushiguro, your latest little project, is no exception, it seems; he may not know it, but he’s just fulfilled a bittersweet prophecy.

Indeed — ‘anything’ is a truly wonderful word.

“Yeah?” Your pace slows until the sight of Toji’s hole, puffy, stretched and clinging around your fingers, is trackable in immensely vivid and erotic detail. “Will you be my little lapdog?” you chirrup, light and honey-sweet, as if to a beloved pet. “Obey my every word, fulfil my every wish? Be mine and no one else’s?”

The precipitation on Toji’s nape glistens as he feverishly nods his head and pushes back harder onto your fingers. “Yes, yes, I will, I am. I’m yours. All yours.”

From the cunning and brutish Hellhound, Killer of Sorcerers, the half-wolf half-man who is both feared and revered for his domineering power and cutthroat personality, you have sculpted a disciplined and docile little plaything. An irredeemable mongrel, whose generous master’s firm, wise hand has trained him into a lovely pet, worthy of being called a…

“Good boy.”

Toji’s tail convulses between his fingers.

You grin. “Go ahead,” you say with a final encouraging slap to Toji’s ass. “Let it all out for me, pup.”

And he does — so abruptly and intensely that his trembling thighs almost give under him, practically held up by the hand on his tail alone. He cries out so loud that drool flies from his lip and his voice is followed by a slight echo on the wind. Soreness is already making itself known in your wrist, but you don’t stop; you milk him for all he’s worth, coaxing out every last drop until Toji is laying in a heap of soil and his own spend, groaning and pushing your hand away.

From your coat, you fish out a handkerchief and wipe your hands. Then you move Toji onto his back to do the same for him. A ritualistic process that brings a kind of peace to your otherwise tireless, whirring thoughts.

“Sit up for me,” you tell Toji, with a pat to his thigh.

With some help, he does. You smile and rummage through your pockets, searching for… Ah, there it is!

You take out the circular object and shift towards Toji. With practised efficiency, you secure it around his neck and lean back to appreciate the sight: sturdy ebony leather with intricately engraved symbols, topped off with silver fastenings. Such a pretty collar looks perfectly at home on him.

“What– what is this?” Toji slurs.

You stand up and stroll a few feet away from Toji, who’s bound to where he is in his weak post-orgasm state. Unhurriedly, you slide out a cigarette and prop it between your lips. In the corner of your eye, you make sure Toji is looking at you before you hover a finger beneath your cigarette. From it, a flame manifests and lights the butt.

Witnessing horror formulate on a face like Toji’s — on the face of a man like Toji — is nothing less than beautiful. You would pay good money to experience it for the first time again; to pinpoint the moment he comes to realise the terrible situation he’s found himself in, so you can cherish it from start to finish, all over again.

“You’re…” Toji’s shocked tone bleeds into one of ire; his wide eyes shrink into slits. “A Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

Wreathed smoke billows out of your mouth as you chuckle. “That’s right.” You cross your arms, menacing eyes flitting over Toji. “And now, you’re my cute little pet.”

“Pet?” Toji scoffs. “I kill your kind for a living. You think I’m just gonna take this shit from you?” Toji’s hands scramble up the tree behind him as he goes to get up. “You’re fucking dead, Sorcerer. Ya hear me? D–”

He yells out as he falls back down, fur standing on end from the scorching pain that pulses out of the collar around his neck. He wheezes and claws at the leather, curved black nails piercing into glowing red runes — but the pain only amplifies. He tries and tries, but the only damage he succeeds to inflict is a few nicks on his own skin.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Brute force just makes the hex stronger,” you warn with a misleadingly charming smirk. “You’re more likely to cut your own throat open before you manage to put a single split in that collar.”

You would know — it’s not the first time you’ve used it — but Toji, stubborn as ever, continues to wrestle against the collar’s spell until he’s purple in the face. Veins bulging and eyes watery. Clambering to his feet only to tumble back down again, like a baby deer learning to walk.

Eventually, though, he does stop — but he wouldn’t be Toji Fushiguro without maintaining that defiant expression, even while in such a pitiful state.

“I do feel sorry for you, you know,” you admit as you approach Toji, who, going by his expression, doesn’t believe you one bit, “but you must understand, I’m the type of person who always gets what they want.”

“And what’s that, huh?” Toji snipes. “F’me to be your fuckin’ sex slave? Someone to play out all your sick fantasies and take your frustrations out on? ‘That it?”

“Silly dog,” you playfully reprimand and roughly tousle Toji’s already dishevelled hair. He snatches his head away from your touch. “The means don’t always signify the end,” you continue as you saunter past Toji. “Just because I used sexual methods doesn’t mean I have sexual intentions.”

Toji glares at you, half puzzled and half — just straight up pissed. “So what then? What do you want from me?”

Your lips curve around the cigarette before you exhale with a cloudy chuckle. “Oh, you really are adorable sometimes, you know that?”

“Stop fuckin’ around and tell me already,” Toji snarls, teeth bared.

Blatantly dismissing his words, you gradually walk back to Toji and tilt forward over him. “Feisty, aren’t you?” you sneer at him — a callback to the same words he said to you at the start of your encounter. And one that Toji recognises, going by his strained composure. “It’s simple really,” you say conversationally as you straighten back up. “I heard the name ‘Hellhound’, saw the word ‘anything’ next to ‘for the right price’ and I was intrigued. I wanted to have you for myself. To tame the wild beast, defeat the undefeated ‘Sorcerer Killer’. That’s all.” You shrug. “I’m just fortunate I could afford such a conquest.” You smirk down at him. “You sure know how to drive a hard bargain, don’t you, puppy?”

Toji swallows, the action undulating through his throat. His tongue flicks out over his lips. His eyebrows knit densely. “You hired me?”

You blink at him. “Was that not obvious?” you say with a bashful laugh. “Ah, I really did try not to seem too prepared but I’m just a humble Sorcerer! Not an actor.”

As if still processing what’s happening, Toji just stares at you. You half-expect him to blow up any second, but that doesn’t discourage you from provoking him a little more. “I know what you’re thinking,” you say, and on its own, it’s true, but it’s more fun to pretend that it’s not. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get the second half of the deposit, even though– you know, I’m still alive.”

You laugh again and Toji’s eye twitches at the repetitive sound. He doesn’t see what you find so fucking funny that you need to laugh every five seconds but he wishes you’d just shut up already.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he whispers bitterly, like a too-late realisation.

“I am, aren’t I?” you quip back with a beaming closed-eye grin. “But don’t act like you’re any better.” Another callback, and just in case it doesn’t ring any bells, you press your shoe down on Toji’s crotch, where the head of his still-pink cock pokes out of his underwear, on display through his unzipped trousers. Like a panther pouring out of the shadows, your teeth reveal themselves from behind your lips in a hungry, bordering on starved, smile. “I’m not the one who’s got a second hard-on right now.”

Your acknowledgement persuades a drop of precum to shyly gather at the tip, triggering an even more shy press of thighs around your shoe. When that fails to sufficiently conceal his shame, Toji grits his teeth and whips his head away from you — but you won’t allow that.

After a final puff of smoke, you grasp Toji’s face and force it back into place: laid bare before you, tear tracks on his dirtied cheeks, dried blood under his nose, eyelashes still shiny with the evidence of his desperation. “Be a good pet,” you say as you hover your burning cigarette above his lips, “and open your mouth for your master.”

His teeth gnash together stubbornly, but, ultimately, he follows your command. Jaw falling open, tongue drooping over his lip, eyes gazing up at you, expectant and waiting. Eagerly waiting.

You make him wait no longer; you bring down the lit end of your cigarette onto Toji’s inviting tongue and twist it. The embers hiss and sizzle, branding a small scarlet circle into the pink muscle. As you pull out the cigarette, satisfied, you tell him:

“That’s my good boy.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv @mysicklove @starrierknight @kentophilia @vampcubus @d7dream @feruza22 <3

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: how your appearance changes

using your asc persona chart you can find out how your appearance will change (or has changed). there are four things i personally would look at when it comes to change: pluto (this change is like a finalized change - when it happens thats it, that's how it is rather permanently), saturn (change that would happen as time passes (aging)), uranus (sudden change or how something evolves with time (kind of like trends you adhere to)), and the 8h (how you transform - what you transform into).

saturn

10h saturn: often these people age more gracefully than most. or they could look more attractive as they age (aging like "fine wine"). they tend to look more mature than their peers no matter what age, but as they grow older, they have a strong energy which causes others to look to them for answers. as they get older, they tend to prefer classic and conservative clothes - that makes them look very professional. as the baby fat goes away the cheekbones and jawline come out to play! they get more chiseled (bone-wise) with age. they also appear to have a great health routine that keeps them sharp (diet, exercise, skin care routine, etc). lines and wrinkles are real with this placement - "keep making those faces and they'll stick" is true for this person because they do tend to furrow their brow or something of the sort that cases lines.

saturn positively aspecting sun: creative yet refined. they may develop a more sophisticated and polished appearance. they might be drawn to timeless, elegant fashion choices that convey a sense of maturity and grace, blending classic styles with a creative touch. they have a confident maturity in how they present themselves. they have a more authoritative or composed demeanor, which gives them a look that commands respect without being overly stern. they might be more meticulous about their appearance with this placement (lint rollers, no loose strings, etc). otherwise meaning they could pay extra attention to grooming, how clothing fits, and overall presentation, ensuring that everything is well put together and thoughtfully considered. there’s often an acceptance of the aging process with this placement. they tend to embrace a natural/graceful aging process; they aren't fighting against the signs of age.

saturn negatively aspecting uranus: lead to a push-pull dynamic in their appearance, where they alternate between more conventional looks and bold, unconventional styles. they might experiment with their appearance in ways that break from their usual habits, only to later revert to something more conservative. they might feel prompted to make abrupt changes to their appearance - like a drastic haircut, a new fashion style, or even experimenting with tattoos/piercings. these changes might come on impulsively. there might be tension between wanting to fit in and wanting to stand out. which might lead to an appearance that blends both traditional and avant-garde elements. they might adopt a classic wardrobe but accessorize with bold, statement pieces. this aspect could lead to stress, which might impact their appearance. they could experience issues like changes in their skin, weight fluctuations, or have a generally more tense/restless demeanor. either they will have a modern twist on classic styles or a more refined approach to edgy fashion.

saturn negatively aspecting asc: these people might adopt a more serious or reserved look. this could involve dressing more conservatively, choosing muted colors, or adopting a more professional style to reflect a sense of responsibility or authority. saturn’s influence can oftentimes lead to a more toned or slimmed-down appearance due to its association with restriction. they might find themselves more focused on physical fitness or, conversely, they might experience challenges related to their physical body, such as feeling more self-conscious or critical of their appearance. again this placement could mean developing fine lines, gray hairs, or other signs of aging, or it could simply mean adopting a style that feels more appropriate for their current stage of life (you won't find someone with this placement in their 30s wear jeans that are distressed for example). they might notice a sharpening or more defined look to their facial features, such as prominent cheekbones or a more angular jawline. their sense of burden or stress can often be reflected in their appearance. this might manifest as looking more tired or worn, or simply carrying themselves with a heavier demeanor.

uranus

6h uranus: they might frequently change they style or fashion choices on a whim (they are very susceptible to trends - especially with exercise and diet). they might frequently experiment with new looks, hairstyles, or clothing. they are drawn to unique or non-traditional styles that set them apart from the norm. unexpected changes related to health / wellness routines might impact their appearance. that being said adopting a new fitness regimes or dietary habits could result in sudden physical transformations (for example, they could go sugar free and suddenly see a lot of differences in their skin). their approach to grooming / personal care might be erratic or unconventional (for example, they might grow underarm hair and suddenly turn to waxing). they could go through phases of extreme minimalism or elaborate grooming routines.

uranus positively aspecting mars: they might develop an edgy, bold, and uniquely theirs type of appearance. they could be drawn to fashion choices that are innovative, slightly ahead of the curve, or even "futuristic". they sense a trend before others do. they come to have a vibrant, dynamic presence that others notice. their appearance might exude a sense of vitality and excitement - they often use bright colors, bold patterns, or statement accessories that convey their energetic nature. they are more willing to experiment with their physical appearance as well. they could be drawn to trying out new hairstyles, bold makeup looks, etc. their approach to their appearance may be highly individualistic and creatively inspired - its truly theirs. there are subtle but impactful changes in their appearance. they might make small tweaks to their appearance that have a big effect, such as altering their grooming routine, trying out new workout regimens, or gradually refining their style in ways that enhance their overall look. they are more comfortable expressing their individuality through their appearance they really any other placement. they embrace their "quirks" and standing out in a way that feels both authentic and empowered. they might be drawn to a more athletic or streamlined looks given mars. this could manifest as clothing that is both functional and stylish.

uranus negatively aspecting asc: they might feel a strong urge to drastically change their appearance, often in unexpected ways. this could mean experimenting with bold new fashion choices, trying out unconventional hairstyles (that doesn't usually work for them - no hate), or adopting a completely new look that breaks from their past style. they may choose to reject traditional or societal norms in favor of a more unique, individualistic appearance OR they could be conformist and dislike standing out. their appearance is often dynamic and ever-changing. it is likely difficult for them to stick to one style or look for too long (they have to continually rotate their closet). their appearance might either naturally draw attention, whether intentional or not, or they might blend in to the point of disappearing. this could be due to the boldness of their choices or the sheer unpredictability of their style. they are someone who is constantly evolving and never quite the same. they have a strong sense of personal freedom in how they express themselves usually it is apparent in through how they appear.

pluto

4h pluto: often the realization of who they are and who they are connected to triggered their change in appearance. it's often in the eyes, one day they can be happy with a twinkle in their eye then the next its like the light has gone out. they have seen some sh!t and it shows. their resilience and strength radiates right off of them. while they typically look unchanged since youth their aura changes and others sense the change and often feel drawn to them. they could also go from a colorful wardrobe to a dark and edgy one - it's very obvious when they start buying their own clothes and their parents stop doing so. they could also have scars (physical or mental) that date back to childhood that have changed their appearance.

pluto negatively aspecting sun: they might go through a period of intense personal change, which could lead them to alter their appearance to reflect their new sense of self. this could manifest as a dramatic change in style, grooming habits, and/or physical fitness. they might adopt a more powerful or assertive appearance—perhaps choosing darker colors, more dramatic makeup, and/or a bolder fashion style. they might seek to control their appearance in a more meticulous manner, perhaps becoming more concerned with how they are perceived and making deliberate changes to project strength and/or confidence than they feel. stress or emotional upheaval associated with these aspects could potentially affect their physical appearance (they might experience changes in weight, skin, and/or hair due to the emotional intensity of this placement).

pluto positively aspecting mercury: people might see them as more mysterious or profound. these aspects can enhance their ability to uncover hidden truths and understand complex subjects through their powerful abilities to perceive, which might give them a more intense or focused demeanor. they might undergo a transformation in how they think or speak, which could lead to a shift in their overall presence. this might not change their physical appearance but can alter how others perceive them.

pluto positively aspecting venus: they may exude a more powerful, magnetic charm. people could be drawn to them more intensely, perceiving them as mysterious and alluring. they may feel a stronger desire to refine their style, perhaps opting for more sophistication, elegance, or even slightly provocative clothing that reflects a deeper part of their personality. this aspect can inspire them to make changes to their physical appearance, such as trying a new hairstyle, makeup look, and/or even undergoing a more significant transformation like a new fitness regimen. the changes they make are likely to enhance their attractiveness in a way that feels natural and empowering. as their inner confidence grows due to the harmonious energy of a positive aspect, it may naturally reflect in how they carry themselves, making them appear more self-assured and poised.

8h

8h pisces: their eyes/vision maybe change dramatically over time. they appear deep, reflective, or distant. their face gets softer, more rounded - which can give the face a gentle, compassionate appearance. this softness can also manifest in terms of their skin (it can be smooth or delicate in texture). they seem to glide rather than walking, even in old age they tend to move smoothly (not to be morbid but like a ghost). they also give off a subtle magnetism that draws people in over time. this attraction is not necessarily overt rather it is more of a quiet, mysterious allure that makes people want to know more about them.

8h ruler in the 6h: they may experience changes in their appearance through their daily routines. this could include adopting new health and/or fitness regimes that significantly alter their physical body over time, such as weight loss, muscle gain, and/or improved skin condition due to better nutrition or skincare practices. it can obviously go the other way if they aren't making the effort to improve their routines. there’s a strong focus on health. they might become more conscious of how their lifestyle affects their appearance; leading to changes in diet, exercise, and/or sleep habits. this placement can make them more disciplined about maintaining their health, which in turn enhances their physical appearance. this could make a person dedicated or even obsessive with their focus on self-care routines. they might engage in regular detoxes, intensive skincare routines, and/or other practices aimed at regenerating or improving their physical appearance. on the other hand, their appearance might be influenced by their professional environment. this could mean adopting a more polished or practical look that fits their job’s requirements. alternatively, stress or demands from work could impact their appearance, perhaps leading to noticeable changes like dark circles, weight fluctuation (from low activity at a desk job OR cortisol level), and/or tension lines. they might adopt an appearance that is understated yet intriguing, or perhaps there’s something about their look that others find compelling or enigmatic, even if they maintain a relatively simple style. they are equally likely to go through phases of transformation where their appearance changes significantly - perhaps after overcoming a health issue and/or making a major lifestyle change.

8h ruler in the 10h: their appearance could become more refined, serious, or polished to convey a sense of strength and professionalism, especially in a career context. they may experience significant changes in their public persona and appearance over time. this could involve a complete makeover or a shift in style to reflect changes in their career/public role. they might reinvent their look to align with a new phase in their professional life. they might be drawn to darker, more sophisticated clothing, or they could develop a look that is intriguing and slightly enigmatic, which draws people’s attention in professional and public settings. their career might demand a certain level of formality and/or authority in their appearance. they may consciously cultivate a look that commands respect and reflects their ambitions. this could include dressing in a way that aligns with their professional goals, such as adopting a more corporate, polished, and/or tailored style. the way they look could become a key part of how they are known publicly. they might carefully curate their appearance to ensure it aligns with the image they wish to project professionally. this could involve regular updates to their style to stay relevant or to reflect changes in their career trajectory.

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[nerdy-novelist017]

Ponytails and Promises (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 5)

I'm sorry it's taken such a long time to get this posted ☹️ I've been dealing with a few health problems lately and it's made it hard to be creative. I'm not super proud of this but I hope you enjoy it regardless. As always, I'm so grateful for all of you wonderful readers! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.1k+

Summary- Time spent apart has both Benny and yourself wondering what the other is thinking.

******

For the tenth time in a row, you rehearsed what you were going to say as you peddled your bicycle down the street, the morning sun shining through the trees above. You’d been up all night, a ball of nerves working its way through your tummy in preparation of today’s meeting. The diner was busy when you approached, cars and even a few motorcycles parked out front. You hopped off your bike, swallowing thickly as you propped it in the bicycle rack. You tried to spot his motorcycle but quickly scolded yourself for even remembering the particular design of his. Thankfully, you didn’t see it in the lineup. You smoothed out your ponytail and checked your romper for any signs of creasing that he might not like. Satisfied with your appearance, you pushed the front door open and scanned the inside. 

He sat at a booth on the far side and you swallowed your nerves and did a quick assessment of him as you neared. He didn’t look to be physically injured and you breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up when you stood before him and flashed you a quick, fleeting smile. As he said your name and it almost sounded unfamiliar to you. 

“Hi, Pete,” you smiled as you waited for him to stand to greet you. 

He nodded, motioning for you to sit and you tried not to appear dispirited as you slid into the opposite booth. There was a Coca-Cola bottle in front of him and you noticed that he’d ordered you water. You had to remind yourself that he didn’t know you very well yet and that he probably didn’t recall you preferred coke too. 

“You look very nice,” you said, attempting to cut through the awkwardness between you. 

He nodded again, murmuring a thanks.

Okay, better to get straight to your rehearsed lines, you supposed. “Thank you for meetin’ with me. A–and I owe you an apology. Pete, I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Who was he?” Pete asked directly, cutting your speech short.

You put your hands out of the table in front of you, playing with the straw wrapper as you spoke, “He’s just some guy, a biker–”

“Yeah, I got that. I mean how do you know him?” 

“He . . . was somebody I met when I was out with Kathy. Met him at a picnic,” you explained carefully as your gaze searched Pete’s eyes behind his glasses. “Remember, the one I told you about?”

“She’s becoming a bit of a wild thing, huh?” he asked and you could sense that it wasn’t really a question. There was a blatant statement hanging in his tight voice. 

“She’s always been like that, I think,” you replied, trying to smother the defensive tone in your voice. “And I was only there for a short time, but I guess he took a liking to me.”

Pete hummed, glanced out the window for a moment so you continued, “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what he did. You’re a really good person and you don’t deserve that.” You considered reaching across the table to touch his hand, but he leaned back in his seat before you could. “And. . . I was excited about our date.”

“Do your parents know about where you went? About him?” He seemed not to hear your last statement. 

“No,” you admitted, brow furrowing. In fact, you haven’t told anyone about your date with Benny. Not even Kathy. You just came straight home and went up to bed where you laid awake for hours, mind reeling through every conversation the two of you shared, every word he spoke. 

“They’d never approve of that,” he pointed out as he looked back at you. 

“Well, they’re never going to find out because I don’t plan on seeing him again,” you stated, looking down at the condensation building on the outside of your untouched water glass. 

“Good.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t belong with a group like that, anyway.”

It was strange hearing that from Pete. It was the same affirmation you had told yourself over and over again last night, but hearing him tell you that, as if you didn’t have a choice in the matter, left a bad taste in your mouth. All you could say was, “Yeah. . .”

You wanted to ask exactly what Benny had said to him, but before you could, Pete leaned forward, seeming to be in better spirits and said, “Dolls like you belong on a shelf where they can be admired and not broken.”

His words, at face value, were sweet, kind, but you couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that toyed in the back of your mind. Pete was the safe choice, you had to remind yourself. Pete was everything you had wanted for your future-husband, for your life. He wanted you to be exactly who you were raised to be. You could be a quiet doll whose whole existence was to sit on a shelf and look pretty. 

You nodded, leaning forward to take a sip of your water as an excuse to not speak. 

“I’m glad we worked through this,” he said as he waved down the waitress to order. 

“Me too,” you said quietly as he ordered for you. And you meant it, you did. But something felt different with him now. There was a shift that seemed to occur and you weren’t sure what it was or if it would ever resolve. Pete didn’t seem to notice as he prattled on about his upcoming golf tournament, falling into a one-sided conversation that he was comfortable with. 

As you absentmindedly picked at your plate of breakfast, you wondered —just briefly— if Benny was eating breakfast right now and if he was, what was on his plate? 

When there was a lapse in silence, you looked up at Pete, suddenly asking, “Are you still planning on coming to the charity picnic with me today?”

His brows pinched together. “What charity picnic?”

“The one I told you about last week? It’s for the children of Chicago fund. Our church is hosting the cookout, remember?” You asked, specifically recalling having this conversation with him on your first date. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he had been trying to process a lot of new information about you and this slipped his mind. 

“Oh, right.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “I’ll have to check my schedule, make sure I don’t have anything else going on today.”

“Okay,” you nodded. He confirmed that he could go with you a week ago already. You slid out from the booth, grabbing your purse. “Well, I’ll maybe see you there then?”

He followed you, standing to his feet also. “Yeah.”

You made your way outside and he touched your arm before you could reach your bike. You were afraid that maybe he wanted to kiss you as he leaned forward but he only put his arms around you in a friendly hug instead. 

“Bye, (Y/N),” he said as he broke free, turning and going back to his car. 

“Goodbye, Pete.” 

******

Benny lifted the glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. The scent of cigarette smoke and motor oil hung heavy in Cal’s garage where he, Johnny, Wahoo and Corky sat around as Cal worked on Corky’s bike. Benny’s eyes burned as he rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn’t slept well last night – worse than the few hours a night he usually got. His mind was too busy, filled with thoughts of you. Of the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder, of the way your dimples show when you smiled brightly. Of the way you looked so damn beautiful even when you were angry. And you were angry at him of all people which admittedly, he still didn't quite understand why. You were upset that he overstepped, sure. He got that. But when it came to a man like Pete? Benny could take one look at that man and see the strained facade he wore like a mask. Benny’s always been good at reading people, at seeing past the guise. And Pete was no good. 

“What do you think, Benny?” someone had asked, drawing him back to reality. 

“‘Bout what?” he asked, looking up at the faces around the garage.

“About the radiator hose,” Cal informed as he motioned to the stripped down bike and Benny honestly didn’t hear what was even wrong with it in the first place. 

“Probably no good,” he replied with a shrug as he dug out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

As if Johnny sensed Benny’s more than usual reserve, he asked. “Hey, how’d the date go with Bunny last night?”

Benny glanced up at him. “Went good except I think she’s pissed at me.”

Cal laughed. “How could you consider that good then?”

Benny shot him a narrowed look. “We had a misunderstanding.”

“Are ya sure she’s mad?” Wahoo spoke up from the other side of the motorcycle. “When my old lady is horny, she just acts like she’s mad so I spank her and that really gets her going.” 

Benny sighed. “No, she’s mad.”

“Why? What’d you do?” Johnny inquired. 

Benny wanted to argue in his own defense but shrugged. “She’s upset that I had to run off her date.”

“She had a date?” 

“Mh-hm, church-going fellow.” Benny lit his cigarette, taking a long drag of it before continuing, “Caught him before she knew he was there.”

“Did ya kill him or somethin’?” Corky’s eyes widened. 

“Nah, just had a talk with him,” Benny clarified as he stood from his lawn chair, moving to look out the bay door. “He was late to their date anyway and . . . I just wanted to have a talk with him, see what kind of man he was. And I didn’t like what I saw.” He was one of those men who pretended to be something he’s not, who perfected the craft of lying to people – especially women. And Benny didn’t have any respect for liars.

“Okay, what’d you say to him then?” Johnny wondered.

“Just said ‘Are you willin’ to die for her?’ and he said yeah and then I asked if he was willin’ to kill for her because I was.” Benny recalled the twinge of fear in those eyes as he took a long drag of his cig. “And I think he got the message pretty loud and clear after that.”

Johnny and Cal shared a pointed look as a weighted silence followed Benny’s statement. 

“Jesus, kid,” Wahoo murmured. “This girl’s really got you whipped.”

Benny really didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience. He came here in search of Johnny to seek out his advice, but now that he’d confessed to the group, he felt somewhat . . . smaller. He’d never been one to struggle with his confidence, to care what others thought of him. But the idea that you were upset with him, that maybe you didn’t want him anymore, that maybe he’d ruined his luck with you before he’d even had a taste, well, that just struck Benny deep in his chest. It made his fist clench tightly at his side, made his heart beat a little faster.

Suddenly, Johnny was beside him, hand clapping his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Well, if that’s what made ‘em run away, then it sounds like he was no good anyway.”

Benny remained silent, picturing the sight of you walking away from him last night, choosing to walk home in the dark rather than let him drive you back. 

“So, she’s mad at you for that?”

Benny nodded. 

Johnny shrugged. “Let me tell ya a little somethin’ about women; they may be the same species as us but they ain’t the same creature. They don’t think like you and I. When we see somethin’ that needs said or done, we just do it. But they’re more . . . compassionate, empathetic. She probably feels bad for that poor asshole. Probably just wants ya to apologize to him.”

Benny wanted to roll his eyes. He knew all of this. He wasn’t an idiot. “Well, I told her I wasn’t apologizing for it.”

Groaning sounded behind him and Benny clenched his jaw defensively. “I’m not. I can’t apologize for somethin’ I don’t feel sorry for. I don’t regret runnin’ him off and I'd do it again if I have to.” Though if he needed to do it again, he’d probably not openly tell you again. 

“Then you’re goin’ to have to find another way to get back into her good graces, kid.” Johnny shook his head and Benny thought he saw a hint of a smile in his face as he turned away. "You'll think of somethin'."

******

You’d changed your clothes three times before you gave up and just decided to wear the same thing you’d worn to your breakfast date with Pete. Could it be classified as a date? You weren’t even sure where you stood with him now. He seemed to fall back into his usual demeanor, but that was always so closed-off anyway. But so was your father, you supposed. You could see that in the way he’d sit at the head of the table, face hidden behind his newspaper. It was obvious in the way your mother repeated herself over and over again in an attempt to be heard. It was apparent when he was absent during all your years of school accomplishments. That was the normal. It seemed unfair to expect Pete to be any different.

So you went downstairs, packed up your cake (one you had made special for the charity) in the cooler and hopped on your bicycle. The ride to the church wasn’t far but it gave you more time to consider Pete as you waved to neighbors you passed. Though you actively tried to avoid it, you mind drifted to thoughts of Benny. Was he the type of person to wave to neighbors? What kind of neighborhood did he even live in?

By the time you showed up to the church, the event was in full swing. You parked your bike in the rack and carried your cooler through the tents and booths set up, smiling at friends as you went. You found the pastor's wife who directed you to the bake sale booth where there were a couple other girls already setting up. 

“What’ve you got there?” one of the older women asked as you approached, setting your cooler down on the table. 

“A cake.” you grinned as you pulled out the cake, setting it on the display. You had gotten up extra early today to get started on the desert, knowing the congregation was counting on you to supply the design. The inspiration for the design – admittedly taken from a certain biker who you would not be thinking about anymore – was a a field of brightly colored flowers surrounding the base with a family of tiny bunnies to decorate the top. You were pretty proud of it and to hear the ooo’s and ahh’s of the ladies surrounding you boosted your confidence. They set out a donation jar in front of your display and people began to filter by your booth to admire the goods and to grab a free brownie made by one of the other girls at the table. As the event went on and the sun shifted overhead, you thanked the donors and smiled for pictures, all the while your eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to find Pete close by. 

When there was a pause in the flow of foot traffic, you took the time to crouch below the table to replenish the paper plates when a deep, familiar voice broke through your concentration. 

“Got anymore of your famous cookies?” 

You looked up, gaze locking with the ocean blue eyes of none other than Benny Cross.

You gasped and stood up so quickly you nearly knocked your head on the corner of the table. He was staring unabashedly at you, even being so bold as to roam his eyes down your figure and you suddenly wished you had changed into something a little more formal. Ironic, you thought, considering Benny was anything but formal.

His gaze moved from you down to the cake on the table and his brows raised. “You make this, Little Bunny?”

You swallowed, ignoring the rush of butterflies at the nickname. “Mh-hm.”

He bent down to inspect it closer, hands pressing to his knees and you can’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the cerulean gaze beneath a wall of lashes. You couldn’t look away from the slope of his nose nor the quirk of his mouth as he hummed a sound that came deep in his throat. And no, you couldn’t look away as your gaze traveled down his signature denim jacket to the exposed tanned skin of his arms, the muscle tone enough to make your eyes widen. You certainly didn’t want to look away from his hands over his knee as a flash of heat filled your core at the thought of his hands encasing your own knee.

Benny’s eyes flashed back up to meet yours. “You’re incredible.”

You nearly melted at his words, face heating up and you had to break his intense eye contact.

He stood back to his full height. “If it tastes half as good as it looks, I think I might be in trouble.”

There he goes again with those damn double innuendos. You started to smile but then you remembered you were still mad at him, that you weren’t supposed to be happy to see him or to hear his flirty voice. “You already are in trouble, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Benny grinned sheepishly. “I still gotta do somethin’ about that, don’t I?”

You raised your brow at him as you crossed your arms trying to look more confident than you felt. “You don’t have to do anything, Benny. It’s a free country.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But it’s what you want me to do, right? Apologize to ‘em?”

“No, he . . . wouldn’t like that,” you admitted, “I don’t think that’d be a very good idea to involve him anymore.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Then I guess I’ll just have to win you over again.”

“Who said you won me over a first time?” You challenged, standing up a little straighter.

Benny just grinned, a shit-eating grin that you weren’t sure if you wanted to smack or kiss off his face. You watched as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. He slipped out a five dollar bill between two of his dexterous fingers and dropped it into your donations jar.

“See ya around, kid,” he said with a wink before turning and leaving you standing there wide-eyed and fighting a smile.

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[jarofstyles]

The Favor 9

Hey... Sorry it took me a minute. I've decided this is definitely not the only club scene for them because there's a lot I want t explore with them. Part of me wants to apologize for adding so much in but I hope you guys love them as much as I do!!! They are one of my all time favorite pairings to write.

Also don't worry Im working on getting rid of Danny lol

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WC- 10.2k

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, BD/SM, Exhibitionism, voyeurism, degrading, choking, sir/daddy kink, pet/puppy nicknames, name calling, slight Mean Dom H mixed with soft Dom tbh, tiny bit of humiliation kink, aftercare is in the next part I promiseeeee

Y/N was buzzing in her own skin. 

So much was happening in her brain that it felt borderline overwhelming. She stood in Harry’s bathroom looking into the mirror with her hands on her face, just to confirm that she was, in fact, a real person. 

The night prior had been intense. A lot, but in a good way. Something had shifted between them, as she suspected, but neither of them were truly ready to talk about it. Harry was instead, a lot more affectionate which… to be honest, she hadn’t expected. It was a glorious change, feeling his hands or eyes on her whenever she was in a room with him. He’d had her sit on his lap while he proof read something on his laptop, his hand stroking over her stomach and underneath one of his shirts that he’d put on her after their bath the night before. There was no urgency to talk, Y/N leaning her head on his shoulder and relaxing into the warm, fresh smell of the man she was so connected to whilst scrolling on her phone. He’d made them breakfast and ordered them lunch, but she had noticed a distinct lack of kissing. 

It made her wonder if she pushed a bit last night, asking for one. Somehow she doubted it considering he had been the one giving her kisses the last few weekends together, but there was a weird seed of dread in her stomach that reminded her that at some point the weekend would be over and the warm place she had in the pool of Harry’s warmth would dry up and she’d need to come back up for air. To go through the week without seeing him, except maybe for a lunch, when she had grown so needy for his mere presence. He was attentive even when they weren’t physically around, more than the man she had called her boyfriend, but it still didn’t feel like enough. As weird and freaky as it sounded, she wanted to crawl under his skin somehow. Get as close as possible. 

Tonight they’d be going to the sex club. Something she was both excited and nervous about, the weird feeling in her chest making her wonder which one outweighed the other. Harry had communicated very clearly that this first visit was going to be rather tame- or, as tame as a sex club visit could be. They’d watch a scene he had pre chosen, a voyer couple in a room open to exhibitionists. Before that, they’d mingle and he would introduce her to some of his friends he had there. 

One thing she wasn’t too sure about though, was getting too close to anyone he had played with before. Y/N, while not historically jealous, found her skin crawling with ants at the idea of having to be around someone else who knew how he tasted, how he looked when he came. Sure, he wasn’t officially hers, but it felt like it more than she cared to admit. That had added on to her anxiety but it wasn’t something she wanted to openly admit to him yet, so she kept it under wraps for the time being.

He’d done something nice for her and got her a dress. A cute little thing, lacy and white. A sweetheart neckline and strapless, she was hoping the strapless bra was going to do its job- but then again, she kind of hoped maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he had chosen the dress for ease of access. The idea of him slipping down the top and playing with her in front of other people had her wet the moment she thought about it. 

Her panties, though, were noticeably missing in the ensemble. When she asked about them, his smirk had rose on his lips. “Who said you were getting any?”

So all in all, she was a complete and utter wreck of hormones and anxiety. 

Freshly showered, she had fixed her hair and sat staring at herself with her makeup half done. Another of the dominant’s shirts hung off her shoulders. He had a vanity that was cleared of anything but her stuff, which was nice, but another flare of jealousy had worked its way through her. Who else had used this vanity for this exact thing? Who else had been getting ready for him to take them to the club to play with them in the way that was so uniquely Harry? 

It was no right of hers to be jealous or possessive when she was still in a relationship, though it was one she was having her doubts about. Her phone remained empty of any texts from him. The longer he put it off, the less she cared about what he had to say. Anger wasn’t really there considering Harry had been giving her plenty of attention, but still. Her brain was craving the quiet only the Dominant had managed to give her. 

“Alright?” His sudden appearance made her squeal, jumping in her chair. Clutching her ever beating heart, she looked at him wide eyed in the reflection. Where the fuck had he come from and how long had he been there? 

“Fucks sake, H.” She wheezed. “You need some sort of bell or something. How long have you been standing there?” Where she expected a laugh, she got none. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed, he turned the chair towards him and lifted a hand to tilt her head up. “For a minute or two. I was waiting for you to notice but…” Eyes scrutinized her face. “You’re nervous.” 

There wasn’t much she could hide from him. To be fair, she hadn’t planned on it, but it was still annoying, borderline unsettling on how he could read her like an open book. “A little. It’s not a big deal though.” 

“We don’t have to go yet, if you aren’t ready. We don’t have to go at all.” His voice was soft as he kept his face placid, clearly trying not to sway her either way. It was yet another confirmation to her that he actually did give a fuck about her well being. 

The idea of not going at all, though, made her shake her head rapidly. Wouldn’t that mean they would cut off their arrangement? As selfish as it was, she couldn’t give him up yet. She couldn’t give up the orgasms and the kisses and the praise, just as much as she didn’t want to give up the daily texts and jokes and pictures of Buttons when she was back at her own place. “No! It’s just, it’s a little intimidating. That’s all.” She sighed, leaning into his hand. That seemed to soften him a bit, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip as he tried to gage her. 

“What about it has got you intimidated?” 

It felt oddly good having him standing over her, petting at her. His gaze soft, looking down at her as he tried to make her feel comfortable but undeniably in control of the situation. Of her. 

“You know people there, mostly. But the whole thing. I know we’ve gone over what we’re doing but it feels bigger the closer we get there. Y’know?” She puckered her lips over the pad of his thumb, watching as his smile tipped the corner of his lips. These tiny acts of intimacy were going to be the ones that ruined her. “I’m very excited. It’s what I’ve wanted, you know? And I kinda think that makes me put more pressure on the expectation.” 

Harry hummed in his throat, nodding along to her observations. It made logical sense and she knew it, but seeing him agree made her feel a little better. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“It is intimidating. It's taboo, in a way. Something that’s going to shock your system. You don’t go many places with people being so open sexually around you. It isn’t so blatant until the shows start, but even then. It’s the sort of stuff you're used to fantasizing about, and to see it right in front of you can be a lot to take in. Seeing people on leashes, or full body spandex, masks, all of that. It’s new to you, so I expect it to be intimidating to you. But may I offer you a few pieces of advice?” 

Y/N would lick his shoes if he asked in the right tone of voice, so she nodded. She wondered if she would get away with it, and his eyes did narrow, but he chose to let it go. 

“The only person I’m going to be focusing on when we go is you. I have some friends, yes, and I’d like you to meet them and their submissives, but I’m not expecting you to make best friends at the first meeting.” He started, ever so slowly pushing his thumb into her mouth. Testing the waters. Like second nature, she began to suck lightly on the tip of it as he continued talking, the tip of her tongue brushing the pad of his finger. “But the real advice I have is to let go. Let me control the night. I’ve got you, I’ve got everything you need to do up in my head. All you’ve got to do is follow directions. If I tell you to say hello? Say hello. If I don’t, you don’t. If I tell you to sit on my lap, you sit there. Tell you to get on your knees, you do it. If I tell you to suck my cock, you do it. Because everyone else there is doing the same thing, if not, they’re there to watch it happen. There’s nothing you need to worry that pretty little head about.” His eyes darkened slightly as she took his thumb a little further into her mouth, blinking up at him. “Okay? Daddy’s got you.” 

Somehow it worked. Some of that anxiety melted away, realizing he was fully serious. All she needed to do was listen to him. That was the backbone of all of this. 

“You’re in control. You’ve got the power to color out, you’ve got the boundaries and I’m just there to make sure you’re tended to properly. Remember what I said, hm? Me being in control is only because you allow me to be.” 

That had been something she learned more and more as the time passed by with him. As incredible as it felt to have him be in charge, she had the ultimate say so. She could color out at any moment. There was no reason not to trust him because he had never given her a reason not to. 

“Your safe word isn’t just for sex, either. Anything you want to stop tonight, you tell me. I know you’ll be good and remember that, but I just need to remind you before you hand yourself over to me. I will never be disappointed or angry because you need a break, or you don’t want to do something. I care about you a lot more than I care about nutting off or showing off to people.” 

In truth, Harry would never forgive himself if something happened and she ever felt unsafe with him. It was a team effort, yeah, but he did think he was good enough at reading her that he would be extremely upset if he didn’t predict something like that. Y/N did run a bit anxious sometimes. He’d been able to get her to a point where she completely let go for him, and he wanted to repeat that pattern over and over until the weight that she felt on her shoulders lessened. As strong as the woman was, he wanted to help take some of it on his own back. 

His thumb pulled from her mouth with a soft ‘pop’, the dominant ignoring the whimper and smearing the sweetness of her saliva over her chin. It was the world’s highest honor to see her eyes round out for him, to watch her track his every moment like the eager pet she had proven to be for him. Knowing she wanted to please him made him feel more powerful, more fulfilled, than he had been in a very long time. Showing her off was something he had been more than looking forward to doing, but there wouldn’t have been any use in doing it if she wouldn’t feel equal enjoyment. “Are we okay, Sweets?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed, the sigh exhaling against his damp finger. “I gotta finish getting ready though. You have my outfit picked out on the bed?” 

“I do.” He nodded, lightly fingering a loose tendril of hair that brushed her cheek. “And you’ll be wearing that black peacoat over it. Should keep you nice and warm.” Tilting her chin up, he placed one of the first kisses of the evening on her pouty lips before smoothing his thumb back over her mouth. “You’ve got time, darling. Don’t worry.” 

—--

Y/N felt marginally better as she held on to his hand, clinging for dear life on his wrist with the other as they waited at the front entrance. 

There had been quite a lot she expected from a club dedicated to kink. Karma was as sensual and mysterious as ever, but the front of a closed hair salon letting them in had been a shock to the system. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought Harry had lost his mind until he opened the back room door and exposed an entirely different aesthetic. A black and gold elevator, black marble floor and red curtained walls. That had to be a bitch to dust. 

With a key card, he placed it on the gold plated button pad and it opened for them to step inside. Now that she was in the elevator she could hear some music, some people, but nothing she could have ever expected from the street view. Privacy was very important to them, as she could tell. “They’re going to put our phones and my keys into the locker and we’ll get them on the way out. It’s for everyone’s privacy, but there are staff in there to ensure you have an out if you need it.” Unwinding their fingers, his grip changed to her jaw to tilt it up to look at him. The casual dominance had her knees weak. How did he manage to do it so seamlessly? “We’re gonna check out coats, and then we’ll go in. You are safe with me, Pet.” His tone was gentle, reminding her again how he had been the best thing to wander into her life. There was no saying shit just to say it. The man wanted to assure her, drill it into her brain, that he was completely here for her and everything they did was because she wanted to do it. 

As intimidating as it was, she swallowed the lump around her throat and gave him a nod before allowing him to take her coat off.  Standing in front of a hostess and the man who worked the coat check in her little outfit had made her a little stiff at first, but the moment she heard the quiet curse under his breath, their opinions didn’t matter. 

He had chosen a maroon babydoll for her to wear tonight. Satin cups clung over her breasts while it transferred to a tight knit mesh-like material that flowed over her body and hit her upper thighs. The panties had been a bit of a different choice, rather simple silk ones with lace trim. She’d expected lace, a g string, something else but they were really nice. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it made her feel sexy as she had tugged them up her thighs and settled the waistband on her hips. The outfit had surprised her a little considering she had thought maybe he’d want her to wear something completely form fitting or restrictive, like spandex or leather, but instead he’d gone with something more flowy and light. Maybe he was starting them soft for the first time, but it was the sexiest she had felt so far in her life. 

“You look incredible.” He mumbled, placing the coat numbers on the counter with their phones and his keys. “Fuck me.” Lithe fingers traced over the straps, the feather light touch stopping at the necklace he’d chosen for her tonight. A simple gold chain with a heart. At first she had thought he would give her one of those collars, but she wasn’t sure how that worked. 

“I was going to give you the one with my first initial, but I was saving that.” The admission made her eyebrows raise. Why hadn’t he done that? “I wanted to ease you into it, and for some reason you’ve been turnin’ me into a possessive son of a bitch. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep composure if it was on there like that… But I don’t think that matters too much now, anyway.” 

Harry had always known he was attracted to Y/N in otherworldly, almost inappropriately intense ways. While he could be a jealous man, he hadn’t felt it to this degree. Irritated that she didn’t have his name on her neck or a traditional sign of ownership. He was a weak man when it came to her, but he didn’t mind when he could see her preen slightly over his words. The one thing that was soothing his inner caveman was the fact that she had marks from him on her body. Love bites blooming from the swell of her left breast and one he’d sucked on the right side of her neck, a few little bruises from his fingers digging into her hips… They were little badges of honor. 

He’d caught her this morning, admiring them in the foggy mirror. He’d come to bring a fresh towel before she got into the shower and watched quietly as she ran her fingers over the marked skin, the tiniest little smile on her lips that made his cock twitch. If they hadn’t had plans to come here tonight he would have bent her over the counter and gave her more. That silent appreciation at the tiniest hints of ownership meant more than she would ever know. 

“I can wear it next time.” She peeped, meeting his eyes. “I like this one too, but… I like the other idea.” 

The silence was loud for a moment as he observed her, the admission making her look a little flustered. Every day it seemed they were slipping into something far more serious than they’d set out to, but the unspoken words lingered under their tongues. It wasn’t the right time to discuss. “Noted.” Thumbing over her chin, he nodded at her before tucking the tickets from the coat check into the pocket of his pants. “Come on then, Pet. Let’s have a look.” 

—-

Y/N’s eyes were wide as they took in the vast room around her. 

Holy fuck. Harry hadn’t been kidding about it shocking her system. 

His hand held the back of her neck as she was guided towards the bar, where she was warned didn’t sell any actual alcohol for safety reasons. It matched and exceeded her expectations upon first glance. 

The stage was set up with some sort of bench, but it was obvious they’d come before the show had begun. People milled about, laughing and talking as if nothing abnormal was happening- like the woman in her all spandex dress chatting to the bartender, drink in one hand and chain in the other. Connected to the other end of the chain was a man on his knees for her, leather mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. Not far from her in a booth across the way, a man had a woman on his lap with his hand down her top, playing with her tits and keeping a conversation. 

It wasn’t extreme, no, but it had her a bit spooked. Even more so when she looked to the side and saw a girl on her knees and her face buried under another woman’s dress. So he hadn’t been kidding- it really did happen anywhere. 

Heat flushed over her chest as she averted her gaze, blinking rapidly as she tried to calm her heart. It wasn’t a bad thing, she didn’t think, because she could feel herself becoming excited. Just a walk through and she was warm in her tummy, feeling that anticipation climbing all the way up her throat. She had to wonder what Harry was going to surprise her with tonight. 

“Alright?” He mumbled, turning to face her as they approached the bar. The promise of a sweet, sugary mocktail had been enticing but now her curiosity was wanting to take over. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

“No, Sir.” She shook her head, meeting his eyes. The hand on the back of her neck gave a subtle squeeze, pulling her a little closer. “It’s… I’m curious to see what else goes on, but I think it’s interesting.”

“A lot of things are happening in the rooms. The main stage show isn’t anything too extreme, but the rooms are different theaters on this level, and playrooms on the top level.” The split level was apparent to her now, reminding her a bit of a hotel lobby she’d stayed at once on holiday. Rooms surrounding the top with a walkway that looked down while the bottom was an open concept until it split into four hallways. The place was truly beautiful, albeit a bit intimidating. “What did you want to drink?” 

Y/N looked over the menu with curious eyes, smiling lightly when she saw someone had made a plethora of fruity and sweet concoctions modeled after bubblegum, blue raspberry, cherry, all sorts of stuff. There were more tame things, pina colada and mint julep, but considering she was experimenting tonight she chose something she normally wouldn’t. “Can I have the cotton candy one, Sir?” 

“You may, yes.” The subtle correction had her face flushing for a moment, but she could see he was teasing a little from the dimple threatening to break on his face. God, he was so gorgeous.

It was always apparent that Harry was handsome, but seeing him like this was a whole different experience. His shoulders were bigger, back straighter, a more controlled and poised version of him was at the helm. Was this his best self? Being a dominant, taking and guiding her? He’d said multiple times he liked taking care of people, liked being in charge, so it must feel really good to have her eyes on him at all times. 

When she’d brought up that she’d read a lot about people in her books had dominants that preferred them to avert their eyes, but he’d scoffed at it. In opposition, he’d told her to keep her eyes on him at most times. Joked about it soothing a bit of his ego, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was really a joke at this point. Either way, there would be no complaints about that when the man looked as good as him. Sharp jaw and nose, dark lips, eyelashes that pissed her off because they were so pretty… The man had a way about him that reminded her of classical art. 

When the bartender came over he was greeted with a smile, which he reciprocated with a small one of his own before ordering her the drink she wanted and himself some sort of iced tea thing. She had no clue, considering she was a little busy zoning out. His hand had started to subtly massage the back of her neck and her eyes had glazed over a bit, being pressed into his side making the scent of him increasingly soothing. Perhaps he was doing it for that exact reason, but that was why he was in charge. He knew what to do to calm her nerves. 

As soon as the bartender walked away, he turned back towards her. “And how are you feeling?” Eyes dipping over her body, Y/N swallowed as she knew exactly what he was talking about- and why he looked so damn smug. 

He’d helped her put a plug in before they left. The smallest one, but it had still worked her up a significant amount. There had been something weirdly erotic knowing that he would know why she was shifting around. Trying anal for the first time the night prior had been a mind meltingly good experience, making her even more eager to try new things. It had always been a fantasy of hers, but she hadn’t realized just how good it would feel. How full and connected she would be with it- but again, that was possibly just a Harry thing. He had made the simplest thing far more pleasurable. 

“Good.” She nodded, watching his eyes linger on her breasts. He’d spent time after their sex last night kissing on them in appreciation, letting his lips hover over the marks before he lotioned over her body. Physical touch had to be his top love language, she had deduced. “I, um… It feels weird when I walk. But not bad, Sir.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re walking a bit differently, but you’ll grow used to it. Even more so, I think you’re going to learn to love it.” Adjusting the strap that seemed to be slipping down her shoulder continuously, he let his touch linger. “You’re going to be my good girl and let everyone see how perfect you are, aren’t you?” The tone of his voice dropped into a deeper one, her body reacting to it as she leaned into his touch. “I can’t decide if I want you perched on my lap all night, or if I want you on your knees in front of me.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Decisions, decisions.”

“Whatever you’d like me to do, Sir.” She replied, though there was no true preference. Y/N was aiming to please tonight, subconsciously feeling the pressure to prove she could be a good submissive for him. 

“Oh, I know, pet. You don’t have a choice in that.” He laughed under his breath. “Precious girl. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll tell you to sit and speak like my good Pup, alright? You just stick to me.” 

Y/N a few months ago would probably try to fight his words and the condescending tone because that was what was expected of her. Y/N a few months ago would ignore her body when it reacted to those words. Y/N now, though, let her eyes widen and simply agreed, because deep down that’s what she’s been wanting to do. 

When the drinks arrived, her eyes widened at how pretty it was. A soft pink with some sort of glittery shimmer in the drink, the movement of the liquid catching the light. It was by far the most beautiful drink she’d ever seen in her life, and she didn’t want to waste a drop. Holding it in her hand, she let Harry wrap up with the bartender before turning back to her with a new look on his face. “C’mon, it’s time t’say hi to some people. Best behavior.” With a slight pinch to her chin, he led her off.

Harry’s familiarity was evident in how easily he navigated the club. Winding through people with polite nods and greetings, he radiated the now familiar air of power. It was a little different here, though. While he always held the power in the bedroom, there was something that had snapped on his face when they walked in the room that had her ever curious about his past experiences here. Experiences she wouldn’t ask about for her own sake of delicate feelings, but things that he must have done, said, experienced in this secret cove of underground pleasures. 

Yes, it was a bit whips and chains-y, but there was a classy layer to it that she liked here. The weird feeling of belonging settled in her gut as his hand squeezed the back of her neck, keeping her close as they approached a slightly elevated section. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, taking in every bare tit, every collar, every hand wrapped in hair and laugh in the room as he led her up towards their destination that she had almost missed it completely.

Thankfully she caught herself as Harry gently urged them to a stop right in front of a booth full of people. Semi circular, the tabletop was a bit far from the booth itself- but it was clear why as she looked down at the people. 

There were two people on their knees of their perspective dominants. A brunette with her cheek resting on a blonde woman’s knee, fingers brushing through her dark hair and sparkling nails catching the light as she did so had particularly caught her eye. Instead of a tight outfit like the domme at the bar, she had on a powersuit. Her eyes didn’t look down towards her submissive though giving her physical attention, sharp hazel eyes looking over Y/N like a examination. 

“Isn’t she delicious, Styles?” She purred, cat like grin painting her red lips. “Who is she? I know you’ve been gone for a bit… is she why?” The woman seemed pleased at the prospect of Harry having a new submissive, even if she looked at her like she could eat her for lunch. Her face felt hot as she looked up at Harry, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“She is.” The confirmation had the people at the table grinning which caught her a bit off guard. They didn’t know she was temporary and he seemed in no rush to tell them- and neither was she. Maybe they could play pretend here, like she was really his and he wanted to keep her for good. The first of many times they’d come together for as long as they felt so inclined. “This is Y/N. She’s been a wonderful little pet for me. My favorite.” A hand fondly ran over her hair, a little smile on his lips now as he was happy to show her off. “She’s a little new to this, but very eager to learn. So tread lightly, yeah?” 

For some reason the information being told didn’t offend her. Maybe if someone else here seemed like it was funny to them, if they’d scoffed, did anything but look understanding she would feel that shame, but they didn’t. They simply nodded, letting Harry slip into the end of the booth. “On my lap for now, Pet.” He patted his thigh, holding his ringed hand out for her to take.

Y/N could feel eyes on her as she nodded, a quiet ‘yes sir’ leaving her lips as she was adjusted over his lap, legs over his thighs as he wound his arm around her waist to keep her body steady. “Say hello.” The words weren’t disguised as a request. It was clearly an order. Why did she find it so hot? 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you all.” She peeped, leaning into Harry’s touch as he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. It was pretty clear on who was a dominant at the table, versus the submissive. Two were on their knees, two sitting under their dominant’s arms, and one in a similar position to Y/N. 

“Is it your first time here?” A man asked this time. His voice was softer spoken but there was an edge to him that screamed that he was in charge. It was a little similar to Harry in which he looked kind, but anyone with sense would know not to question their particular brand of authority. 

“It is, yes. H-Sir was helping me adjust before I came here. He is the best teacher.” Throwing in a bit of praise for the dominant had the desired affect, lips brushing her cheek in a chaste kiss. 

“What are your thoughts? It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” The woman from before asked curiously, though the hungry spark didn’t leave her eye until Harry spoke to her. 

“I’m not sharing her, Cara.” He said lowly, his hold tightening on her. “She’s not on the menu. Look but don’t touch.” There was a slight edge to his voice though it wasn’t hostile quite yet. Secretly, Y/N let herself preen over the possessive nature being shone through. Knowing he had no desire to let anyone else have a taste of her was beyond comforting- which, she knew was entirely ironic considering the context in which they met.

“Oh, boo.” She sighed. “You’re very beautiful. Harry’s not fond of sharing his chips either so I should have known, but there’s no harm in trying.” The demeanor shifted slightly to something lighter. “My girl likes to have playmates sometimes, but we’re a little picky.” 

Y/N could only imagine. If Harry expressed desire to add someone in for a scene she wouldn’t be too fond of letting just anyone in… but then again, she didn’t want to share in at all in the first place. It wasn’t a closed minded thing, more so the idea of someone else taking his attention away from her making her stomach ache. 

“It’s good to be picky.” Harry nodded. “But my girl isn’t up for shared scenes. I don’t think I’ll ever want to share her.” Fingers brushed over her cheek, still cool from his drink. “I don’t think anyone can blame me for being selfish with a beauty like this.” 

Heat flooded her body, a shy smile on her lips as she looked at him and watched his eyes darken. His pupils dilate. There was no question in her mind that there was truth to his words in this way she had just witnessed them, but it still felt unreal. “You wouldn’t want to share me either, would you?” The words had been softened just for her consumption, the moment being looked over by the others who began talking amongst themselves. For them, though, they were in their own little bubble. 

“No, sir.” The whisper matched his own volume, but the answer made him pleased. She could tell by the look on his face, lightening her own mood just by that alone. Y/N never knew how much she would truly enjoy this sort of thing, never understood how much Harry would change her life, but she was here now and it felt far more intense than one could imagine. 

“Then we’re settled, yeah? They can watch us, but m’not gonna let them touch you. Nor me.” The addition made her giggle, though it was cut off when he caught her lips in a soft kiss. Gentle pressings over her mouth, she counted three before he pulled back and rubbed over her chin. A wistful look followed, his eyes full of contemplation as he looked her over. Back and forth, his thumb swiped the remnants of the kiss before he let himself out of the mindset, leaning back into the booth. “Since you’ve had your greetings, I want you on your knees for me.” Reaching behind him he got a little cushion, dropping it on the floor. Spreading his legs out, he motioned for her to get between them. At least he was thoughtful with her poor knees. 

Y/N was weirdly excited for it. Slowly sinking down and settling with her heels touching her bum, she looked up at him expectantly as he watched her get settled in her new position. It felt… right, being here. Like this. Looking up at him as he spread his legs and looked down at her with a practiced patience on his face. “Sit quietly like a good girl. We’re going to go watch that show in a room in 20 minutes. If you can behave here, I’ll make sure you cum tonight.” 

Y/N knew what he meant. Not to provoke him and get him hard. As much as she wanted to do that, wanted to mouth at his cock and be a brat so he’d force it in her mouth,’or her over his lap to redden her ass, she wasn’t quite that brave yet. Tonight was to prove she could be a good girl for him, the best she could be. Maybe if she was good enough, he’d tell her that he was keeping her. 

Listening to his order, she rested her cheek on his thigh and closed her eyes as she found herself in the situation the other woman had been when they’d arrived at the table. His fingers sprawled through her hair as he talked quietly amongst friends, twirling tendrils between his digits as he got to the ends of it. Every so often the submissive could feel his eyes look down at her, which had her opening her eyes and smiling up at him. The pleased expression he had each and every time had her wondering if he knew what went through her mind. 

If he told her to break up with Danny? She probably would. If he confessed that he had feelings for her, that he wanted her as his real partner, submissive or not, she would release herself from the other relationship she was having major doubts about anyways and go to him. Belong to him seriously.

Even being on her goddamn knees in front of him at a kink club, she felt more appreciated than she ever had. Even when he called her a dirty bitch, a nasty whore, a cockslut, she felt more worshiped and heard and ultimately cared for than she ever had. Harry listened to her. There was never a singular time since they’d started this arrangement that he hadn’t thought about her wants or safety in great detail. He hand fed her fruit he sliced by hand after scenes, brought up juice to her mouth and whispered to her to have sips after he was finished ruining her body. He broke her apart, yeah, but he built her back up again. Even better than he had first found her, if she was being honest. 

Never in her life has she felt as heard, scene, and adored as she did when Harry gave her aftercare. When he texted her through the week to make sure she had a good day. When he asked her her favorite color the first day they met and made sure she had light pink straws in her drinks each and every time. Harry paid attention to her. Not just in scenes, where he seemed to pick apart her every reaction and know just how much she could handle, but last night too. He could feel her upset, did what he could to fix it. Proved yet again that he was the better option of the two.

What was stopping her? 

Fear. Not of Harry, not of Danny, but fear of losing this feeling. She’d end up alone again, wistful for this exact scenario where she knew she couldn’t get it again. No one else would be able to make her feel the way Harry felt in her body and her mind and that was fucking terrifying. Admitting that only to potentially be rejected was worse than staying in a bad relationship. Maybe she was a coward- she knew she was- but she needed his promise. His words. Too many times in her life she had been let down, let her heart hurt and chip and bruise. A rejection from him would shatter her heart and all the work she had put into mending it and the wall she had tried to build up to make her softness toughen up a bit would be inconceivably damaged. 

Times like tonight, meeting his eye and watching him tuck her hair behind her ear as she rubbed her face against his knee, she swore she could see the golden flecks of longing in his eyes too. When they were in bed after their scenes and his arms wrapped around her so he could haul her back into his body, she could feel inklings of something more under her skin. Even when he’d greeted her last night with a kiss in his driveway, a kiss she knew would lead to nothing sexual and just a genuine token of affection, she had felt that something was more with him. And yet she was frozen with fear every time she went to ask him how he felt about her. Terrified that he would reject her and their entire dynamic would be screwed. 

Little did she know, he had the same dilemma.

Watching her nuzzled into him, sitting so fucking perfect and pretty and meeting his eye with those gorgeous fucking smiles, she looked so content with him. Like she was made to be in this exact scenario. He’d never felt more proud of having someone on his arm, and yet she wasn’t actually his. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without spilling those feelings towards her.

His holdback was the fact that she was the one in a relationship. She’d tried to mend things with Danny, but part of his confusion was knowing if she did it because she wanted to or if he had stupidly pushed that by trying to do the right thing about it when she expressed her resentment towards him. All he wanted to do was make the girl happy. It was only a few months of knowing her. He shouldn’t feel this much, so soon. 

Realistically he knew that it was likely because they shared such intimate parts of themselves with one another. This dynamic, lived in even if only on the weekends, was intense and serious and Y/N leaned into every bit of it with an eagerness only matching her nicknames sake. A puppy. So fucking sweet, she’d roll over and show belly if he asked her to right now, but instead she was content with her face on his leg and his hand in her hair. 

His mind wandered to what it could be like if she left the other man. If she walked away and went into his arms, let him show her how he could treat her so much better. What she didn’t know as well was he was still holding back a bit. Emotionally, more so.  

His heart felt like it was in his throat when he grazed his fingers past her cheek, watching her lashes lift off her cheek so she could give him her eyes. “You’re bein’ perfect for me, Pet.” He murmured, watching as she preened. His words always seemed to have a significant effect on her but the girl was slipping into a more submissive state with him here. It was his job to take care of her, to show her the things she’d been missing out on and desperate to experience. “Are you ready to go and watch?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her cheek from his knee and angled her head back, allowing him to tap his fingers over her chin and get a smile from her. Everything felt more loaded than they could talk about right now, but she was doing exactly what she needed to do. Falling into line so perfectly that Harry really didn’t have much he needed to correct. Pride filled his chest as he let himself smile back at her, nudging her to stand up. 

“Lets go then. Stay with me.”

—-

Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected in this scenario, but she knew there was nothing that would be realistic in her mind that could have prepared her for this night. Walking into the room where the scene had already begun, Harry held the back of her neck and led her towards a loveseat in the back. The throple on stage weren't paying anyone much mind, the room half full as the sounds of a masculine groan filled the air. The stage was lit with two doms and a sub, all beautiful in their own right. 

She stayed quiet as she waited for directions from Harry, eyes on him as he settled himself on the seat. He didn’t speak, instead grabbing her waist and turning her around to sit on his lap. Back against his chest, he spread his legs and hooked one each of her thighs over his own to sprawl her out. The position left her rather exposed too, but the thrill of it caught in her chest as she felt the thick of his cock against her ass and his arm wrapping around her waist. 

“Look at them.” He mumbled, keeping his tone quiet. “Watch.” With his chin against her shoulder, he slid his fingers over her thighs. Up and down, the touch slightly distracted her from the performance going on up the stage. It was becoming very apparent that her devotion to the Dominant was deeper rooted than she’d thought. All this time she’d been anticipating this, but all she could do was think about him and his hands on her. 

“How does it make you feel?” His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he looked towards the show himself. “They make a nice little show, don’t they? Is that something you’ve thought of?” In front of the girl on her knees stood the Domme and other Dominant. The Domme’s hands held a leather leash connected to the collar of the girl, wrapped around her fist as the other hand gripped the submissive’s ponytail to bob her head on the man’s cock. Y/N did her best to pay attention to the performance in front of her, the wet heat between her thighs getting more intense as his fingertips brushed up and down the exposed, vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh. Images of it being them flooded her brain, the barriers breaking as his lips nestled right underneath her ear, puckering just so. 

In her vision, there would be no Domme. The scene would include just him and her, his hand wrapped around the leash tight as a show of ownership. Her collar would be prettier, something more suited to her personally. Maybe a pink leather or more of a chain with a heart charm like she’d seen on one of the other subs at the table, but it would be one he picked out special for her. His fist would have her locks wrapped around it like a secondary leash, using her mouth and showing off just how much she could take. Ideally, it would be after she trained a bit more to take him deeper. She loved the idea of people being able to watch her, to see her take him down her throat. Being able to see how well Harry handled her, how she listened to him, the dynamic between them. Maybe at some point she’d be able to be a bit more bratty and get punished for it- having him fuck her throat as a punishment, or use his hand against her ass. 

“Hm? I asked you a question. Answer me.” He muttered, nipping the delicate skin of her neck. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Can almost hear it from here.” 

Y/N swallowed, leaning further back into him as she tried to unfurl her tongue to tell him. “I-I like it. I’m thinking about us up there, Sir.” Keeping her voice quiet to be respectful to the throuple, she tried to be loud enough for him to hear. It was hard with how shaky her voice felt, his fingers trailing over the edge of her humid panties. It was hard to think straight with him touching her, his scent all over and his mouth on her neck and the sound of the praises from the Domme, the submissive choking slightly on the Dominant’s cock. 

“You are?” He sounded intrigued. “Hm. I think you’d look pretty up there. What part of it is making your poor cunt wet like this?” Fingers tapped against the damp gusset of her panties, teasing with the light touch. It wasn’t enough to make her feel much relief, but the knowledge his hand was there was enough to make her swallow back a whimper. “I know you love my attention, but I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of an attention whore than I thought.” 

The light degrading made her dizzy, the arm around her waist lifting to grip her throat lightly. “Keep talking, Puppy. Quietly.” 

It was hard to keep talking but she tried her best. It was a little unnerving to realize just how much mental power he had over her, but she knew she was safe. Maybe she felt a little pathetic that such light touches had her in a tizzy, but this whole night had been edging, hadn’t it? This was the main event, watching people indulge in the taboo pleasures like it was a theater show while her own Dominant teased her over her panties. “I-I like that she has the collar n’stuff, and people are watching her choke on it.” She whispered out, breathing getting a little harder as he nudged her clit lightly with his thumb. Rhythmic back and forth, just a tiny hint of his touch but it was enough to make her want to buck into it. Harry was making her feel insane, but the entire thing was playing into it. 

Watching them on the stage, knowing other people were around that could see her being spread open and touched like this, the way Harry was hard under her ass, it all had her tummy hot and head fuzzy. “And I like that they’re bein’ a little mean to her. Makin’ fun of her, Sir.” Her tongue felt a bit too big for her mouth as she admitted to those things. The condescending teasing of the Domme to the Submissive each time she failed to take the full length down her throat had sent a zing to her cunt, imagining Harry calling her those names and giving the mean encouragement to get her to do her very best in front of all the other people. 

“Christ, you’re a whore.” Harry laughed incredulously into her neck. “You want to be degraded like that in front of other people? Because… I know for a fact you can’t take all of my dick into that throat. S’a bit too big and as cockhungry as you are, I think you’d be a little embarrassed about not being able to do what you should be able to.” The twinge of shame melted into arousal, his thumb nudging her clit a little harder. Was it a reward?  She didn’t know, but she didn’t want it to stop.“As for the collar…” Fingers uncurled from her waist , moving up to collar her throat. “I think a better one would be better suited for such a slutty puppy. Jus’ didn’t realize you needed to be leashed too.” 

His smallest finger went underneath the necklace that served as a collar for the night, tugging lightly at it. “You’d need to belong t’me properly for that. I don’t collar up just anyone, baby. Is that something you really want?” It was probably not the correct time to dip his toes into the question of a more serious arrangement, but he wanted to hear her answer. 

“Uh-huh. I want it so bad, Daddy. I can be so good for it, I’d love it.” Her whine was a little too loud, a coo leaving his lips as he lightly applied pressure at the sides of her throat to shut her up. The answer, the fucking eagerness of it had his cock twitching against her ass and his heart pumping a bit harder. Maybe it was just a heat of the moment thing, but the vulnerability of the moment had him doubting it was some sort of illusion. 

“Mm. We can discuss that when you’re not so worked up and soaking the pretty panties I got you. You need to keep your voice down, be respectful.” The warning was twofold. He had to table that conversion or he’d get his hopes up far too soon. The slip up of honorifics, though, had been intriguing. “I’m Daddy right now, hm?” 

“Mhm.” She attempted to nod as his fingers lightened their pressure. “Touch me, please. I’m achy.” Squirming slightly in his arms, another squeeze to her throat had her freezing in place before his other hand decided to ease down the waistband of her panties. 

“I don’t know how I feel about you making demands, Pet, but you’re making quite a fucking mess.” His voice dropped, feeling her pulse in his fingertips. “God, you’re gonna cum so fuckin’ quickly. I can feel it.” Y/N was drenched, his thumb finding her slippery clit to rub in light circles. “It’s a little too much for your filthy whore mind, isn’t it? Sitting at my knees, acting like the perfect little submissive for me… Seeing all those pretty people playing, dressed up so nice. And now Daddy’s brought you to a nice little show. You paying attention?” He urged her attention towards the show. “He’s gonna cum on her face, just like I’ve been dying t’do. Or are you more aroused at the knowledge that anyone can look over and see your pussy being pet like a desperate slut?”

Yes, yes, yes. All of the above, check all the boxes. Y/N would beg more if she could find it in her brain to talk, but it felt so good. The light grip at her throat making it slightly harder to breathe, how he was talking hushed into her ear and the vibrations made her feel even more squirmy, his fingers on her cunt, she just felt like she was dreaming. Like this was some sort of high before the ultimate one, looking to the side and catching a few eyes on her. She’d made a tiny bit of noise before, surely making people aware that she wasn’t behaving, but it felt all too real now. 

“And now you’ve gone dumb for me. I need an answer from you, Angel. Need a color before I make you cum.” He nudged her face to the side, lips resting against the corner of her own. “Color?” 

“Green. I’m so good, I-I…” She panted, eyes glazed but looking into his own. They were hooded, dark, and it was obvious in all ways that he was aroused too. He showed more restraint than she did, but he wasn’t unaffected by it all. “Sir…” With little thought to consequences, her own hand came up to the back of his head and pulled him closer so she could press his lips against his. 

Harry didn’t usually kiss in the club. He didn’t like them being seen in that way most of the time, feeling that those were supposed to be shared for more private and intimate moments- but Y/N had a way of making him throw a lot of his prior rules and regulations out the window. Didn’t she? He groaned quietly, licking into her mouth, trying to ignore the hot spark of arousal in his cock her hands tugging his hair closer to her had given him. For a moment, he gave in and enjoyed the taste of her tongue and the uncoordinated mess that was their kiss. He took the moment to slip two fingers into her cunt, curling them into her slick hole to get her to gasp. Hot and tight, he held back another moan at the feeling of her cunt fluttering around the intrusion. It was one of his favorite feelings, her breathing picking up against his mouth. 

The broad hand around her throat tightened again, making her eyes peel open again. Wet mouth illuminated by the red lights around the room, he panted against her open lips. “Remember your fucking place. You want a kiss? You ask. You aren’t in charge. I am.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he fucked his fingers into her. “I’m the one in charge. Not you. I choose if you cum or not, I choose if you get kissed or fuck. Your body is mine to play with. You’d do well to remember that, or you’ll be the next one on that stage.” He grinned maliciously. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I won’t be as nice as I’ve been before.” 

Letting up on the grip, he swallowed her gasp with another kiss. 

It was moments like this that Y/N could see it. She could see this being her life, this being her night out with him. Instead of dingy bars with sports games she didn’t give a singular fuck about, she could be here watching shows and learning, she could have Harry’s fingers deep inside of her, his cock inside of her, whatever he chose, giving her pleasure that was immeasurable to what she’d ever known before. A literal wet dream came true. 

Y/N couldn’t respond, nodding lazily as the slick sound of her cunt being fucked with his fingers slicked up by her arousal became slightly audible. The throuple on stage was the loudest sound in the room, but underneath it all she could hear exactly what he was doing to her. It was humiliating to be this wet, to be this close to orgasm from a few minutes of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, a bit of choking, his whispers against her ear, a few people peering over at them and she loved it. His hand around her throat, keeping her tight to his body, and she felt the most free she’d ever been. 

There was an attempt to warn him, his fingers prodding right at her spot and her legs beginning to tremble as she squirmed slightly on his lap, but he could tell she wouldn’t be able to be quiet. He’d have to force her to be. “Let go. Make a mess on my fingers and be fucking quiet.” The dominant let her take another deep inhale before he returned his fingers to the sides of her neck, applying pressure exactly where she needed it to steal the rest of her breath. 

Y/N could see spots in her vision as she came. If he wasn’t stopping it, she probably would have sobbed out as she shook in his arms. Cumming hard and fast, hips bucking into his hand, his words cooed softly against her ear and brought up chills against her skin as the vibrations added to the sensations that tossed her over the edge. 

“There you go, stay nice and quiet. Cum all over my fingers, you perfect fuckin’ girl.” He coaxed, pressing them against that spot over and over again whilst his thumb rubbed her throbbing clit. She could feel the contractions of her walls around him, a deep breath being taken as he eased up on her throat to make sure she recovered, but he didn’t stop his prodding. “Work through it. People just saw that, yeah? Saw how good you are, amazing and how quiet you can be. Saw how beautiful you are when you cum for me. Such a precious angel.” Little kisses were pressed to her sticky skin, her mind pleasantly fuzzy and a little empty as his words soothed the orgasm that rocked through her body. “There we go, sweet girl. Y’did perfectly. Took your reward so well, yeah? You were made for this.” His praise added another layer of warm, fluffy comfort to the pleasant feeling that coated her body, the words echoing in her brain. All she could think about was how good she had been, how good it had felt. Good, good, good. She was a good girl and Harry was proud of her. “Gonna take you home in a few, baby. Just let you get a good cuddle in first, clean you up and sneak out of here. We’ll come back and you can see our new friends again.” 

This whole thing had pleasured her. Not just the orgasm, but the entire place. Her head had felt calm since she’d settled at Harry’s feet, quickly getting over nerves and settling into that feeling of correctness. Ease. It felt like she belonged here, even with the underlying anxiety. With anyone else but Harry she wasn’t sure if she would have felt that, but it had just been another experience he had made positive for her. Of course he did. He was perfect. 

He’d walked her through it, held her hand, helped her know what to expect but- She’d known she would like this sort of thing. Y/n had always thought about it, but actually experiencing it was a whole other beast. One she wanted to experience again, and again, and again- If Harry would let her.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable VII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you alright?”

Feyre’s voice knocked you out of your own head. You swallowed audibly, looking at her before following her gaze down to where you were holding your wine glass, white knuckled. You let out a sigh and set the glass down on the table, putting your hands in your lap.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you said, to get her attention off of you. “Just thinking about my last trip to Hewn City, that’s all.” 

Feyre’s brows furrowed but she nodded. 

Your eyes flickered back to the other end of the table, where Elain and Azriel sat. Elain was basically halfway out of her chair, leaning into Azriel’s space. A knot formed at the back of your throat. Azriel wasn’t exactly encouraging her, but he also wasn’t trying to put more distance between the two of them. 

Jealousy roared its ugly head inside of you. Especially as you watched her place a hand on his arm, laughing at something he said. A hand that wouldn’t hurt him, unlike yours. 

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of it anymore. You just wanted this stupid dinner to be over already. 

Everyone seemed to have paired off into conversation. Feyre and Rhys, Cassian and Nesta, Helion and Mor, Amren and Varian, Elain and Azriel. You pushed around the food on your plate, feeling alone. 

There was one another person here who looked just as lonely as you. Lucien sat across from you, his eyes glued on his mate who was flirting with your…with your Azriel. 

Elain laughed again, drawing your attention back to her. This time, Azriel had a soft smile on his face as well. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, thankful everyone seemed to be finished eating dessert. You cleared your throat, standing up and drawing everyone’s eyes to you. You kept your focus on Helion though.

“I'm going to turn in for the night. It was lovely seeing you again, Helion,” you said politely. “Goodnight.”

You couldn’t get to the balcony fast enough, summoning your wings to make the short flight back to the River House. You ignored the soft stroke of your brother’s claws against your mental shield, not in the mood to make up excuses for your behavior. 

Once you were in your room, you started ripping the pins from your hair and tossing them on your vanity. Just as you were finishing letting your hair down, the shadows in the corner of your room seemed to expand until a dark figure stepped out of them. 

Azriel approached you, concern written on his face. 

“Y/n? Why did you take off like that? Is everything alright?”

You didn’t turn to face him, instead you looked at him through the mirror. 

“I’m fine. I-I just didn’t feel too good.” 

“Don’t do that, princess,” Azriel said, stalking forward until he was right behind you, still able to look at you in the eyes considering he was a foot taller than you. “I thought we were being honest with each other now.” 

You let out a sigh and turned around, placing a soft hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t stand watching you with her. After what I saw that night—” You choked on your own words for a second. “It’s hard to be around you when I can't be with you.” 

Azriel placed his hand over yours. “I cannot apologize enough for that night, princess. But it is only you that I see. It meant nothing to me then and it means nothing to me now. You are the only one who owns my entire heart. I can only pray that a day comes when I can let everyone else see that too.” 

You softened, staring up at his beautiful hazel eyes. They were gold right now in the moonlight shining into your room from the balcony doors, a perfect compliment to your own violet ones. But then his jaw clenched and the moment was stolen away.

You pulled your hand away from him, letting your arm fall limp at your side. 

“This is also why I left,” you breathed out. “It pains me to see another person get to touch you when I can’t. I hate it, Azriel. I hate that I bring you pain.” 

“I’d drag myself across the burning fires of hell for you, princess” Azriel brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ve never been a stranger to pain, y/n. Quite the opposite. I’ve learned to like it.” 

The heat in his gaze—his words—made you melt right into his hands. 

“Is that so?” Your voice was a mere whisper as your hand trailed down his chest, lingering on the waistband of his pants before palming his hardened length with a ghost of a touch. 

Azriel groaned, his head falling against your shoulder. “Don’t tease me. Not tonight.” 

“Oh, I won’t,” you purred, stroking against his mental barrier.

When he let you in, you showed him exactly how the two of you were going to spend the rest of the night. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You bit your lip, tossing more of your clothes out of your wardrobe and onto the floor of your bedroom as you dug around, searching for your journal. It wasn’t in the place you normally hid it, but that hadn’t been too concerning. You did often throw it about after writing in it for hours. But not being able to find it at all? That was a first.

“What are you looking for?”

You screeched, falling backwards onto your butt at the sudden voice. A masculine chuckle, accompanied with the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar flooded the room. You peered up to see Azriel hovering over you. You pouted at him and his antics. 

“It’s rude to just appear in a ladies room, you know,” you snipped, causing him to snort. “I’m looking for my journal. I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it?” 

Azriel shook his head, offering a hand to help you off the floor. “I didn’t even know you kept a journal. I can help you look.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

Before you could say another word, Azriel surged forward to kiss you. You let out a small gasp before giving yourself over to him. He kissed you with a familiar passion, bringing heat to your core and causing your heart to beat fiercely. 

 The kiss ended far too soon. 

“What was that for?” you panted. 

“Can’t I just kiss you?” 

You gave him a look that had his lips twitching. “Fine. Cassian needs help in Windhaven so I’m going to be gone for a few days. I wanted to see you before I left.” 

You frowned as he played with the straps of your dress, his eyes as pained as yours were at the thought of having to spend time away from each other. 

“Do you really have to go? Can’t Rhys go help him? He’s the High Lord, not you.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to your lips again, smiling. 

“Is someone going to miss me?” 

His eyes softened when the look on your face didn’t change. 

“It’s just for a few days, princess,” Azriel said. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I suppose you don’t have a choice.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Do I at least get more of a goodbye?” 

Azriel let out a small groan as your body pressed against his but to your displeasure, he merely kissed you on the forehead and stepped away. “I wish, princess, but your brother asked me to meet with him before I leave. I’m sorry.” 

“Why is he always getting in the way?” you grumbled, more to yourself than anything. 

Azriel placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.” 

“Okay,” you sighed. “Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he murmured, giving you one last kiss before disappearing in a whirlwind of shadows. 

His scent trailed behind him…but then you stiffened, another lingering scent was attached to it. 

You sniffed the air.

Jasmine and Honey. 

Elain’s scent. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Why did he smell like Elain? Had he gone and said goodbye to her as well? Had he been with her before coming to see you? You could feel your blood rushing to your head and you forced yourself to calm down.

You sniffed the air again, only smelling his night-chilled mist and cedar this time. You let out a long breath, sitting down at the edge of your bed. Perhaps you had been mistaken. Perhaps your own insecurities were making you paranoid. 

But something awful curled in your stomach.

And a feeling of dread rushed through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You busied yourself while Azriel was away. It had only been a day so far, but you already missed him so much. You had buried yourself in reports from the Court of Nightmares and correspondence from Eris. But still, nothing could fully distract you from your thoughts. 

You kept going back to that scent in your room. 

Had you made that up?

But why? Why would you do that to yourself? You hadn’t even been thinking of Elain. You wrestled with the idea that maybe Azriel had seen Elain before you, to tell her he was leaving. They were friends, after all. It could be something harmless.

But that night kept flashing behind your eyes every time you shut them. Elain on the counter, her dress pushed up to her thighs, Azriel between them, as they ravishingly kissed each other. Elain and Azriel at the dinner table, her hand on his bicep as he made her laugh. 

It made you feel sick to your stomach.

The words on the parchment you were reading blurred together and you set it aside with a sigh. 

You were overthinking things. Azriel had told you time and time again that he wanted to be with you. That he’s always wanted to be with you and it was your own brother that had kept him away.

You dropped your head down on your desk, sucking in air. You were just being paranoid. You were letting your insecure feelings get in your head. Azriel wanted you. Azriel wanted only you. He loved you. He always had…

Right?

A giggle in the corridor outside your door caught your attention. You sat up straight, recognizing it to be Elain’s. You froze for a second before quietly getting up and walking to your door, pressing your ear against the cold wood.

Another giggle, a bit further down the hallway this time. 

You slowly pushed the door open a crack, peering into the dark corridor. Another giggle and the sound of someone shushing another. A streak of golden-brown hair slipping around the corner. Azriel’s scent wafted through the space and your stomach turned over.

You stepped into the now quiet hallway, following after the sound of Elain’s giggles and Azriel’s scent. 

He was supposed to be in Windhaven. Why was he here? And why was here with Elain in the middle of the night? Your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like throwing up. But you pushed yourself to follow despite your better judgment. 

A door around the corner slammed shut and you could hear the sound of rustling clothes. Tears pricked your eyes and you darted forward now, pushing the door open.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the empty room. You blinked once. Twice. You couldn’t hear Elain’s giggle anymore, couldn't scent Azriel either. 

Had you imagined all of that? 

You rubbed at your eyes, exhaustion settling into your body. Gods, you were going crazy. The lack of sleep was finally getting to you. That was the only logical explanation you could give yourself. You left the room and returned to your own. 

Just a few more days. 

A few more days and Azriel would be home. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The next two days passed in a blur.

You had a stack of reports in your arms as you made your way towards your brother’s office, ready to deliver them. You had been staying in the Townhouse the past few nights, needing space away from Elain–hoping it would make your delusions go away.

It wasn’t her fault that you were going crazy, wasn’t her fault that your own brother had pushed Azriel away from you all those years. You didn’t want to take it out on her, so you figured you’d just remove yourself from the Riverhouse until Azriel returned. 

You were passing by a closed off room when a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Fuck, Elain,” Azriel moaned. “You feel so good.”

You shook your head but the sound of two people panting didn’t go away. You froze, just like last time, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it would go away. You were truly going crazy. You had to be. 

“Gods,” Elain panted. “Please, Azriel, don’t stop.” 

Your eyes shot open as your heart dropped to your stomach once more. That feeling of dread came again as bile rose up in the back of your throat. You put your hand against the door, slowly pushing it open, praying that you would be met with the sight of an empty room just like last time. 

You choked silently on your breath as you peered into the room through the crack in the door. Your hand shot to your mouth as the sight of Azriel and Elain came into view. You blinked once. Twice.

It didn’t go away.

There was Azriel, holding Elain against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed. Your heart snapped into a million pieces, your eyes stinging with tears that had started falling. 

What the fuck? 

How…How could he do this?

They pulled away from each other and Azriel rested his forehead against hers. 

“How much longer must you pretend to be interested in Rhys’s sister?” Elain asked, closing her eyes. “I’m tired of hiding, Azriel. I don’t care what Rhys thinks. I want the whole court to know how much we love each other.”

“It’s better this way for now, Elain. If Rhys is suspicious of me messing around with his sister, then he will take the news of us together more lightly. He’ll be relieved it's not her I’m after. Hell, he’ll probably throw us a wedding himself.” 

Elain giggled, pecking his lips. “I just hate watching her pine after you. It’s a little sad, honestly. You’d think she would’ve moved on after all this time.”

“I know,” Azriel agreed. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise you.” 

You couldn’t bear to hear anymore. You silently took a step back, closing the door as softly as you could. You felt your vision go in and out of focus as you forced your legs to keep moving.

Azriel…Azriel had been using you this whole time? He had been wanting your brother to think he had moved on from Elain to you in hopes that your brother would be outraged by the thought, leading him to be relieved that it was still Elain he desired, not you. 

You wanted to throw up.

Wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.

You…Gods, you were such an idiot. You had believed every single thing Azriel had said to you. Had never doubted him until these past few days. 

No. No….you couldn’t…you couldn’t do this. You were going to be sick. 

You were walking still, not even sure where your legs were taking you. You wanted to winnow to Illyria and throw yourself off a cliff, wanted to curl up in a ball in your room and cry, wanted to…Gods, you needed to get away. Needed to get the hell out of here.

“Dove? Are you alright?”

You blinked, your vision coming back into focus to realize you had walked to your brother’s office—your mind likely on autopilot. His violet eyes were staring at you with concern, tracking the tears falling from your eyes.

The reports fell from your hand, scattering to the floor. Rhys rose from his desk, striding over to you quickly. A sob escaped your lips as he grabbed you by the arms, shaking you a bit.

“Dove, what happened? What’s going on? Why are you crying?” 

The words began spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel was seated at the kitchen table in Rhys’s family cabin, across from Cassian who looked as miserable as he did. It had been a long day of dealing with Devlon and the other Illyrians. 

A shadow curled over his ear.

The High Lord approaches. He is angry with you, master. 

Azriel swallowed audibly as a wave of darkness overtook the cabin, Rhys stepped out of it looking like a prince from hell, his violet eyes set on him with a burning rage.

Azriel knew the moment he saw Rhys what this was about. He had finally figured it out. He finally knew what was going on between him and his sister. That was the only reason he could think of. 

“Azriel!” The High Lord growled, causing Cassian to jump to his feet, his brows furrowed with confusion. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Azriel braced himself but didn’t move. He deserved Rhys’s wrath. He knew he did. 

Rhys tackled him, splintering the wooden chair into pieces as the two males landed on the hard ground. Cassian shouted at them to stop but Rhys began to pummel Azriel with his fists.

Azriel didn’t bother fighting back. He just laid on the ground, letting Rhys beat him even as he began to spit up blood. 

He always knew this day would come. Knew that he deserved to be beaten into an inch of life for what he had done. He had taken something as pure and good as y/n and fully corrupted her, marked her, ruined her. 

He had never deserved to lay his hands on her perfect skin, her perfect body. Not when his hands were so flawed. Not when his hands had done such terrible things. 

Suddenly, Rhys was being yanked off of him by Cassian. Rhys growled at his other brother, trying to push him away but Cassian held strong.

“Azriel, get the fuck up,” Cassian grunted. “Why the fuck didn’t you try to fight back?”

Azriel stood, slowly, wiping a hand at the blood that was beginning to dribble down his chin. He spat out more blood, already feeling the bruising that was going to be scattered all over his jaw.

“Because he knows he deserves it,” Rhys snapped. “You fucking piece of shit! I trusted you! I fucking let you into my home, took care of you like a brother, and this is how you repay me?! I swear to the Gods if you don’t get out of my way, Cassian—”

“Stop!” Cassian shouted. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened?”

“Tell him, Azriel, tell him what you’ve done! Tell him how you’ve been messing around with my little sister behind my back!”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his head whipping back and forth behind his brothers. “Rhys, calm down. I don’t know who you heard that from but that can’t be true. Right, Az? I mean, fuck, the bargain we have wouldn’t even—”

“It’s true, Cassian,” Azriel cut him off. “It’s true. Let him go. I deserve this. I fucked up.” 

“Azriel,” Cassian murmured in disbelief, his eyes full of disappointment. Azriel couldn’t bear the sight of it. 

“You’re fucking sick, Azriel,” Rhys growled. “You held her as a baby! You watched her grow up for fucks sake! I thought I could trust you!”

“Oh fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel said, baring his teeth at the other male. “Don’t make this into something it’s not. I love her! I fucking love her, alright! I always have! And you knew it! That’s why you made us make that fucking bargain with you in the first place!”

“Oh you love her?” Rhys snapped, sarcastically. “You love her so much, huh? Is that why she’s in her room crying over you right now? Is that why you fucking used her to get back at me for telling you to stay away from Elain? I’m going to fucking rip your throat out!”

He lurched forward again, but Cassian took the brunt of his weight, holding him off. 

Azriel froze, utterly bewildered.

“Az…what is he talking about? What does he mean you’ve been using y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel spat. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Rhys. I’m not using y/n and I never even wanted Elain. I was trying to move on from…from loving your sister for gods’ sake.”

Rhys laughed bitterly. “If that’s so, then tell me why my sister came crying to me a few hours ago after catching you and Elain fucking each other?!”

“What!” Cassian swiveled to look at Azriel again. But Azriel looked as shocked as he did. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Rhys? I’ve been here all day with Cassian. I don’t want Elain and I certainly wouldn’t be using your sister to get with her!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Azriel! She showed me what she saw, you prick! Cass, you better fucking let me go—”

“He’s not lying, Rhys,” Cassian interjected. “He really has been here with me all day. I don’t think he’s left my sight once. You can go into my mind and look, but I swear it. If…if what you’re saying is true, then I’ll fucking help you kick Azriel’s ass but I think there’s some miscommunication here.”

“Y/n is in her room crying…because she thinks I’ve been using her? I don’t… I wouldn’t,” Azriel murmured, mostly to himself. “I need to go see her.”

“If you move a single muscle, I swear I’ll tear your mind apart, Azriel,” Rhys yelled. “Don’t you dare even think about seeing her right now! You have no idea what you’ve caused!”

“Rhys, I swear on my life that I haven’t touched Elain since winter solstice! And I would never use your sister. I love her! She’s all that matters to me! I need to go to her. I don’t know what she saw but it wasn’t me!”

“Rhys, please, listen to him. I know you’re upset, I am too, but come on, you know Azriel. Does this really seem like something he would do?”

“I saw her memory of it, Cass. I saw him fucking Elain! I saw him talking about using her!”

Azriel stepped forward, glaring. “I haven’t fucked Elain and I wouldn’t, ever! I don’t understand…I’ve been here with Cass all day.”

“He really has, Rhys. There’s got to be something else going on here…I don’t know what y/n thinks she saw or heard, but it wasn’t Azriel.”

Rhys cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to get home. I need to get to the bottom of this. But this is not over, Azriel! Even if you didn’t use her or cheat on her! You should’ve never even put your hands on her in the first place!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Cassian pushed him back. “One thing at a time. I think finding out why y/n saw what she did is more important right now!”

Rhys glared at Cassian but backed off. He shot Azriel another scathing look before disappearing into the darkness, winnowing away.

“I need to go, Cass. I need to see her, need to tell her that whatever she saw wasn’t true. I don’t care if you hate me now too, but I won’t let you stop me from going to her.”

“I don’t hate you, Az, but fuck, what were you thinking? I warned you not to hurt his sister,” Cassian sighed, before holding a hand out. “Take me with you.”

Azriel grabbed Cassian’s hand before shadow walking to the River House. The foyer came into view a second later.

Feyre was there examining Rhys’s bloodied knuckles. She peaked over at them as they appeared, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Azriel’s face.

“I tracked down Elain,” Feyre spoke. “She wasn’t even here this morning. She spent the night at Lucien’s apartment.”

She whispered the last part, glancing at Azriel but he wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were on the staircase that led to Rhys’s sister’s room. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she knew whatever she had seen wasn’t real.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys snapped, his violet eyes glaring into Azriel. “Mor is with her right now. You stay down here, in my sight, until this is dealt with! Don’t think this has absolved you of anything.”

“Rhys, stop,” Feyre barked. “Now is not the time. Can you remember what your sister showed you? Was there anything weird about the memory?”

Rhys let out a frustrated breath. “No—I don’t know. I was too angry to even think.”

“Well, we need to go talk to her,” Feyre said. “Have her show you the memory again. I don’t know how but someone must’ve planted it or something.”

“Why would someone do that?” Cassian questioned. “Who knew that her and Azriel even had a thing together and would try and get in between it?”

Azriel was stewing in his own thoughts, pacing in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand knowing you were upset thinking he had cheated on you and used you for Elain. 

“Azriel,” Rhys barked. “Did anyone else know about the two of you? You better be fucking honest or I swear—”

“You’re not being helpful by being angry right now, Rhys,” Feyre cut in.

Azriel racked his brain for anyone who might have known they were together. They had been careful but there was one person…

“Cedric,” Azriel answered. “Cedric knew we were together. He knew she turned down his proposal because of me.”

“The Prince?” Cassian asked. 'Wait, you and y/n have been seeing each other since you traveled to the continent?"

"Cassian, not the time," Feyre snarled again.

Azriel could tell Rhys’s mind was racing with his thoughts and he too, paced back and forth. 

“Fuck,” Rhys suddenly cursed loudly, causing Feyre to jump. “The Prince…his family’s magic specializes in illusions. Could he have…but how? Why?”

“Maybe he’s upset she rejected him,” Feyre suggested. “You need to go talk to her. You need to look into that memory again, see if you can poke through it.”

“He can’t talk to her,” Mor said, walking down the stairs and drawing everyone’s attention. “She left for the continent an hour ago. I was packing some of her stuff for her to send over.”

“What? You let her leave?” Rhys shouted. “Where did she go?”

Mor narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown female, Rhys. She went to Vallahan. I guess Prince Cedric said his doors were always open for her and she wanted to get away.”

Rhys cursed again. “No, no! Fuck, Mor! You had one fucking job! Not to let her out of your sight!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t know we were considering the possibility that someone has been making her see things! She wanted to go and I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“We need to go,” Feyre interjected. “If it is the Prince who caused all of this, then who knows what he’ll do to her now that she’s back over there! He might manipulate her into marrying him.”

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Cassian said. “I have a question. So maybe the Prince knows about her and Azriel, but that doesn’t explain how he knew the background between Azriel and Elain.”

Something clicked in Azriel’s head. “Her journal. Fuck, her journal has been missing. He must’ve stolen it when we were at his castle. You said she left an hour ago, Mor?”

Mor nodded, her mouth in a tight line. 

“Shit. That means she’s probably there already,” Azriel growled. “I’m going. I’m leaving right now and I’m going to get her back.”

“No you’re not,” Rhys ordered. “I’ll go and bring her back.”

“We can all go,” Feyre snapped. “Go get in your fighting gear just in case. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes so we can go save y/n from that Prince.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You brushed your tears away, not wanting anyone to see you had been crying. The castle came into view and you hurried forward, eager to get inside and away from watchful eyes. 

You had written a quick letter to Cedric asking if you could visit and he had readily replied with a yes. You needed to get out of the Night Court, needed to get as far away from Azriel as you could.

Your heart was broken, snapped into a million pieces. Your throat was hoarse from sobbing the past few hours. Your entire world had collapsed and you had never felt such despair.

The castle doors finally came into sight, a group of soldiers standing guard with Cedric. He smiled brightly at you as you walked forward.

“Princess! I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” he greeted. “Please, come inside!”

You greeted him with a smile, scurrying inside the castle. You turned to face him. “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice, Cedric. I—”

“Seize her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, at the coldness in his tone. Before you could react, the soldiers surged forward and grabbed you by the arms. You let out a scream, trying to wiggle from their hold as they snapped a pair of faebane handcuffs around your wrists.

“Cedric! What—what are you doing? Let me go!”

Cedric gave you a menacing smile. “You know, I thought this might take a little longer, getting you to come back here. Who knew your insecurities about the shadowsinger ran so deep? I’ll have to send him a thank you after all of this.”

“What are you talking about? Why…unhand me, now! This is…Cedric, what is this? Let me go!”

The soldiers dragged you forward as Cedric stood in front of the doors, hands behind his back looking quite pleased with himself. “Oh no, there is someone very important I need you to meet.”

He grabbed you by the upper arm and a second later, the familiar feeling of winnowing whisked you away.

You landed on soft ground, right beside a lake. Your eyes widened on the shack that sat in the middle of it. 

“Cedric, please! Let me go!”

You tried to wiggle out of your restraints but the guards held you with unflinching strength. You let out a tiny scream as a figure emerged from the water. A figure made of smoke.

“Hello, Princess,” Koschei purred. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: ooppp sorry for all the rage/upset I might've caused you with this one. The series is coming to a close though! Two more parts and an epilogue is what I have planned rn! Thank you guys for all your support!

taglist: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0 @wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear @pyrostatic @running-writing@esposadomd @aria-chikage @rachelnicolee @daeneeryss @inkedaztec @callsign-magnolia @elle4404 @mell-bell @unstablefemme @running-writing @lostinpages13 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @blessthepizzaman

[seruadoric]

okay but ramming you headfirst w my brainrot but like jiyan(wuwa) probably a brat tamer right? tbh i cant really get into brat taming bc if my mans start being all mean to me i would /gen get upset esp in like the bed UNLESS its like done out of love. So like i can only imagine he ""brat"" tames his lover when they've done something he does not like and like i dont think jiyan is the type to get easily upset UNLESS you've like---say put yourself in harms way bc of him to like shield him from an attack or something then he'd fuck you meanly (after you've recovered obviously) anyways hello welcome to wuwa rot let us all go to hell amen

I HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT FOR JIYAN so many relationships/smut hcs for him 😔 afab!reader, slight voyeurism

personally, i don't see jiyan being too mean with you. rough as he is on the battlefield, he's much more tender and gentle with his companions.

but at times, he finds himself frustrated at your attempts to protect him ... he knows that you're coming from a good place, and that you really care for him — but he can fight for himself just fine.

so when he sees you injured for trying to shield him, his emotions just blow up ... ( nsfw under the cut )

"consider this your punishment." he growled into your ear, thick and girthy cock ramming into your cunt once more. pressing you up harder against the wall, he was not holding back. "i already told you i could handle myself out there, and you want to play hero?"

"look at yourself." whimpering and moaning against the wall, with jiyan's hand covering your mouth. you were a mess underneath him. "stay silent, or do you want someone else to hear you?" "j-jiya—" you managed to say, only for him to press himself harder inside you. "i told you to stay quiet."

another moan slips from your lips, and jiyan takes his hand off, instead exploring down your body. he felt your walls tightening around him, taking him in so good —

he groans, pushing himself deeper inside. "i'm close," he whispers in your ear, his cock throbbing against your womb. "do you want me to do it inside?"

with your nod, he plants his seed inside of your core, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. he gently pulls out, grabbing a cloth and cleaning the both of you up. "i hope you've learned your lesson, sweetheart." his demeanor was different than what you had just seen, as he placed a kiss on the corner of your lips. "... don't do that again."

this is highkey shitty 😭 i don't have much experience writing smut, so please forgive me if this wasn't as good ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა this is actually my first time writing smut scenes, so eckkck 😿

i might also write this but for amab!reader ... but i need someone to tell me so, since i'm not so good at writing for amab 😓

[raysrays]

I’ve Got you

Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader

CW: injury,blood, angst-ish to fluff

Scenario: Just because you are a Tsuguko doesn’t mean you get out of going on missions yourself. But what If you don’t return on time? What if you are injured?

Completing missions was never difficult for you, a perk of being a Tsuguko. Personal training by a Hashira has honed your skills. Your technique appears flawless, ensuring success on most tasks. As long as you didn’t run into any upper moons you’d be perfectly fine. Right?

That was your assumption until you reached your destination: a clearing tucked in the heart of a forest. Surrounded by miles of wilderness in every direction. You’d already spent too long traveling a different route due to the weather so you were technically a few days behind.

Upon your arrival, you immediately spotted the clearing, but to your surprise, a demon stood at its center—your target, it has to be.

You drew your sword slowly, cautious not to draw immediate attention to yourself as you approached. Upon getting a clearer view, you studied the demon's appearance intently.

It stood tall, with long white hair and a bluish tint to its skin.

But it must have noticed you staring, as it whipped its head around in seconds.

Its bright red eyes looked terrifying, and its long, claw like nails only added to its unsettling appearance.

You assumed your stance and charged at the demon, employing the breathing technique Kyojuro had tirelessly trained you to master.

However, as you closed the distance, an odd sensation crept over your body, causing everything to seem to move in slow motion.

Looking up, you noticed the demon sporting a creepy grin on its face. With a deliberate motion, it slowly raised its hand, dragging its disgusting claws down your left side.

The sudden surge of pain was intense.

Suddenly, time seemed to unfreeze as you plummeted to the ground in an instant. Looking around, you realized the demon had vanished without a trace.

Not a single hit landed, and it had slipped away.

Despite the searing pain, you attempted to stand, but the agony was overwhelming. Glancing down at your blood-soaked uniform and the wound beneath it, the fight wasn't over.

You couldn't stop now, not with the demon's still alive. That's what you tried to convince yourself.

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, but the pain held you back, causing your vision to blur and your eyelids to grow heavy.

"Am I bleeding out?" The thought flashed through your mind as your head connected with the ground.

It felt like mere seconds had passed when you were abruptly pulled out of unconsciousness by the sounds of yelling and talking.

"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice sounded oddly familiar.

"If you bleed out like this, you'll die in literally the most un-flashy way possible," the voice continued.

Ah, Tengen.

Through the small slit of your eyes, you saw him crouched down in front of you.

"There you are. Glad you're finally awake. I was worried you'd be dead for sure," he chuckled.

As you fully opened your eyes, I noticed that your side had been somewhat bandaged up, though it wasn't exactly top-tier first aid.

He frowned. "Look, I'm aware I'm not Shinobu, but it'll do until we get back."

You nod slowly and manage to push yourself back to your feet.

"How... how long was I out for?" You ask him nervously.

"Well, considering Rengoku paced around HQ to the point where the master sent him off on some pointless mission, I'd say quite a while," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. How long has it been?" You ask again.

He stops and thinks for a second. "You've probably only been out for a day and a half, but technically, you should have been back two days ago."

Your heart begins to race. You've been out far too long, undoubtedly causing Kyo worry. What if he's angry? Did the master really have to send him off on a mission to calm down?

Your mind races a mile a minute before you finally acknowledge Tengen again.

"Let's head back now. When will Kyojuro return?" Your voice sounds desperate. You want to see him. You need to see him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Rengoku is probably almost back by now. Like I said, it was just a lame mission to get him to mellow out for a second."

Suddenly, his hard, sarcastic gaze softens with a hint of concern. "Hey, come on, I'll help you back. I know you're probably in a lot of pain right now."

As he extended his hand to you, you finally accepted it. You liked Tengen; he was a good friend to Kyojuro, and really, that's all you cared about. He could be a complete asshole or a genuinely kind person, but you just got lucky today.

It took a while, but he was fast. Together, you both made it back to headquarters in half the time it would have taken alone.

When you finally arrived, he guided you straight to the Butterfly Mansion to get your injury taken care of.

Shinobu took you in and started to properly disinfect and re-bandage your wound.

You stare at her silently as she patches you up. Shinobu always wears that lifeless smile, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful. You know her story and admire her persistence and her invaluable contributions to the demon slayer corps.

"Y/N, you need to rest. I'll have Tengen inform the master about the demon that got away," her voice maintains its usual tone, neither angry nor particularly happy.

"I wasn't able to kill it. I'm sorry," you confess, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. That demon may not have been an upper moon, but it was undeniably strong. You almost feel embarrassed. Did you underestimate the demon, or were you too overconfident in your abilities?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shinobu tilts your chin to look at her. "I assume you aren't used to failure, are you?" Her expression changes; instead of her usual painted smile, this time it seems genuinely sympathetic.

You feel embarrassment wash over you; she read you like a book.

"Y/N, not every mission will end in victory. It's enough that you didn't bleed out on the ground. I think that alone will make Rengoku very happy," Shinobu reassures you.

Shinobu could be extremely harsh, maybe even downright mean sometimes, but right now, she's comforting you. It feels good.

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that—"

You are interrupted by the sound of a crow flying around the mansion.

"Master Rengoku has returned from his mission!" it caws loudly.

Suddenly, the stress floods back over you. You've never been injured like this before. How will he react?

Shinobu notices your reaction and steps back from you.

"I'll be going now. Try to rest up while your injuries heal. I'll check back on you in a few hours."

You watch her leave, wondering if she's going to tell Kyojuro you're here. Does she already know how he'll react to the situation? Is it really even that big of a deal?

Maybe you're just overthinking this. As a Tsuguko, it's understandable that you'd sustain injuries every now and then. As a partner though…it's different.

What was only minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the sounds of the doors to the mansion open.

You recognized those footsteps; you had heard them every day of your life.

Once the doors finally opened, you saw Kyojuro. His eyes scanned you up and down, taking you in before he officially entered the room.

He looked so relieved but also worried as he walked over next to you, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

Before you could say anything, he took both your hands in his and rested his head on top of them.

"Thank goodness you're safe. I was so worried," his voice was quiet and gentle.

You didn't know what reaction to expect, but it wasn't this one.

A couple of moments of silence passed, and he finally lifted his head to look at you again. This time, his face seemed more serious.

"What happened out there? What demon did this to you?" His serious tone wasn't one you ever got used to.

"I'm not sure," you admit.

"If I'm being completely honest with you, I didn't get the chance to learn much about it at all. All I know is that it has the ability to slow down its surroundings, allowing it to attack at a normal rate, and that's how I got here." It felt embarrassing to admit your failure, but his face showed understanding.

Kyojuro knew how hard you had worked and trained, and every solo mission you went on had been a complete success up until this point. So honestly, he seemed just as shocked as you were.

Once he noticed your bandaged wound his serious face changed into a worried and sympathetic one.

"I'm so sorry, sunflower. I should've looked into the mission more before agreeing to let you go. I would never want you to be put in such a position," he said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

The embarrassment you tried to shut out just came rushing back in that moment.

"Please don't pity me. I failed my mission. It's all my fault. I understand if you are disappointed, but once I heal, I will make sure to find that demon and take it down."

He looked surprised for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.

"Little flame, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful not only to have you as my Tsuguko but also as my partner," he said, reaching up and planting a small kiss on your forehead.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You did your best! As long as you return home to me at the end of the day, I will never be disappointed in you."

Your heart melted at his words. Kyo would never be angry with you. He loved you. All he ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

His bright, happy smile made everything in the world seem good again. You wanted to just wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

Then he stood up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders gently.

You finally felt the weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. The demon, the fear of bleeding out on the ground, the idea of disappointing Kyojuro, all of it gone.

Tears escaped the corners of your eyes. You hadn't let yourself cry this entire time, but his arms felt safe. As long as Kyojuro was there to support you, you finally felt vulnerable.

Kyojuro's arms felt so protective around you as you cried into him. He knew the stress you had been put through was probably overwhelming.

And even though he'd never show it, his anger made him vow to find this demon and ensure it would never hurt you again.

[deakyjoe]

Taste Your Lips Of Wine

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Reader (fem, afab)

Category: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: Copia needs help when being wine drunk creates a problem.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping/grinding, pillow humping, explicit mentions of sex, horny Copia, horny reader, angst, loneliness, crying, Copia’s a bad friend (but makes up for it), Copia is also slightly perverted but knows it, friends to lovers, getting wine drunk, several mentions of erections, swearing/cursing, poorly translated Italian (topina = little mouse), let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 6k (it was going to be longer but I decided to split it into 2 parts)

A/N: We’re back with more dry humping with Copia! This was inspired by the knowledge that apparently he humps things when drunk (source: Tobias Forge somewhere I think). This will have a part 2 at some point but it’s not yet finished so don’t know when that will be. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Being best friends with the leader of the clergy had its downfalls.

"What do you mean you're cancelling again?" You asked with a huff, hands planted firmly on your hips as you stared him down.

Copia shifted from foot to foot, knowing how much he was upsetting you. There was nothing he disliked more than upsetting you. But he didn't have a choice. "I'm sorry, I know. But I promise I'll make it up to you."

You turned away from him with a low groan, he'd made that promise the last three times. All you wanted was one night with him. One night to hang out together, catch each other up on the gossip of your lives over a bottle of wine. One night with your best friend. It wasn't much to ask for. And your empathy for the business of his situation only extended so far. "Fine, yeah."

"Topina..." He mumbled, taking a couple of hurried steps towards you.

Your eyes screwed shut at the use of the pet name, you knew he was only using it to soften you up. Copia had an unintentional manipulative streak to him, unaware of how easy it was for him to shape you and your thoughts. But you figured that was on you, and your unconditional affection for him.

Another downfall of being his best friend. He was easy to forgive.

Looking back over your shoulder at him, you plastered a smile on your face. "It's okay, really. I know you're busy. Just... we'll reschedule."

Again.

He watched you for a moment, mismatched eyes willing you to break and confess how truly saddened you were at the prospect of another lost evening with him. But you stayed strong. If Copia had to list a downfall of being friends with you, he'd say it was your unwillingness to tell him when you were disheartened over something he'd done. He could always sense it in you, he just didn't know why you refused to admit it.

So he nodded and looked on as you turned away from him again, pretending to busy yourself with something on the desk in front of you.

Before his own guilt could walk him out of the room, he forced himself towards you. Stopping just a mere couple of inches behind you, Copia watched as you tensed up at his presence before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, topina." He whispered in your ear. He knew the position was intimate, especially for outsiders who viewed the two of you as just friends, but you and Copia had never shied away from the more personal of actions. "I will cancel all future clergy meetings if it will make you happy"

You relaxed back against him, resting your palms over the tops of his gloved hands as you sighed. "All future clergy meetings? So not this one?"

Copia grumbled something under his breath. "Unfortunately not."

You could hear in his voice how unhappy he was with the situation as well, so you decided to push your own feelings aside. As you always did for him.

You turned in his grip and cupped his face in your palms. "Just let me know when you're next free and I'll be there with a bottle of wine and two glasses."

"No, I shall bring the wine. The least I can do for being such a bad friend." He frowned at you, trying to tally up in his head how many times he actually had cancelled on you recently. The numbers weren't looking good.

You shook your head. "You're not a bad friend. You are, however, a good Papa."

He averted his gaze out of embarrassment, tips of his ears burning pink. "I can be both at once."

You thought that over. It was true, and the angry part of you wanted to agree. He was being a bad friend by cancelling so often after promising you just a fraction of his time. But the other part of you, the part that adored him more than anything, and regretfully the part that ruled the majority of you, wouldn't allow such a thing to slip past your lips. "Don't be foolish, Copia."

His eyes flashed back to yours.

"You are a good friend. The best friend I could ask for." You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before waving your hands at him in a dismissive motion. "Now go. You have important Papa things to be getting to, I'm sure."

He watched you again for another moment, silently begging for you to just confess that you were frustrated with him. But you stayed quiet. So he leaned forward, left a lingering kiss on your forehead, and then left the room, and you, as he went to deal with whatever had caused him to cancel in the first place.

You collapsed into the closest chair and held the tears back, no matter how much they stung your eyes or made the back of your throat ache. You wouldn't allow them to fall. You wouldn't cry again over your best friend abandoning you for another evening. You wouldn’t…

Staring at the clock, you debated the best way to spend your suddenly free evening as the first tear cascaded down your cheek.

That was another downfall of being best friends with the leader of the clergy. It left you rather lonely.

Copia couldn't believe his luck when only an hour later he was being informed that the meeting, the one he'd broken his best friend's heart in favour of, had been cancelled. Sister Imperator had come down with some sort of illness. She was sort of integral to the whole thing which meant proceedings couldn't go forward without her.

Attempting not to jump for joy at the news of her being sick, Copia raced down to the cellars where he knew the good wine was kept. He could only hope that you were still in your office where he'd left you earlier, as this was his opportunity to make up to you all those lost nights. And what better way to start than grabbing two bottles of wine rather than the usual singular one.

As he hurried towards where he hoped to find you, he debated what way was best to inform you that he was now free. He didn't want you to think that you were second choice, that he was only there because the clergy meeting had been cancelled. Whilst it was partly true, you were always first in his head, and his heart, but he often didn't have much choice when it came to splitting his time. He had to attend official clergy business. Which meant you were granted only spare moments. Copia knew it was unfair and he wanted to change it. But how?

He felt over the moon when he saw that the light in your office was still on. You hadn't decided to spend your evening elsewhere.

All thoughts escaped him, however, when he burst through your office door with a smile, the two bottles of wine raised high in his hands, and found you crying.

Everything dropped. His smile, his hands to his sides, and his heart.

Your tear filled eyes shot towards him, sleeve of your shirt hurriedly wiping away all evidence of sadness, as you straightened up in your chair and tried to school your features into a more neutral expression. It didn't work, you knew he'd caught you.

The door was closed softly behind him before Copia rushed towards you, bottles of wine abandoned on your coffee table. "Topina, what's wrong?"

You looked away from him as he crouched in front of you, his efforts to get you to meet his gaze ignored. "Nothing, I'm fine."

Despite not thinking it possible, Copia's heart sank even more. He was the reason you were crying. Never before had he despised himself so much. "Please don’t lie to me."

"I'm not." You sniffled, hating how your voice cracked slightly. It wasn't helping your case. "I just- really, I'm fine."

"It's me who's made you cry." He said it as a statement more than a question and, when you said nothing to disagree with him, he knew he was right. "I wish you would tell me when I upset you. I can always tell but you're so reluctant to just say so."

"Because I know that it's stupid of me to be upset." You huffed, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt.

Copia's gloved hands grabbed yours to stop you from fidgeting. "Why is it stupid?"

You hesitated before answering, looking down at him crouched in front of you. It probably wasn't doing his knees any favours. You wondered how long he'd be able to hold the position for. "You're Papa now and you have important things to be doing, like running this place and spreading our message or whatever."

He held back a laugh at the use of 'or whatever' and said nothing to allow you to keep talking.

"But I-" You cut yourself off with a frown. "I want you to..."

A frown settled over Copia's face too as you trailed off. "What? What do you want?"

"I want you to make time for me. Selfishly." Your teeth clicked shut as the confession spilled. No turning back now. "I'm lonely and I miss you."

It was nothing he hadn't already guessed but hearing you say it out loud was a whole different matter. The guilt of it that had been slowly eating away at him since his promotion to Papa, that had dragged him away from you on too many occasions, solidified itself.

"Topina-"

You cut him off. "And I hate feeling like I'm being scheduled in. I want you to spend time with me because you want to. Not because you feel you have to. And not because you have a spare hour or two with nothing else to occupy you."

His heart shattered. "That's what you think this is?"

How had he managed to turn years of friendship, years of undying devotion to one another, into something that you thought was an obligation for him?

You shrugged and looked away from him. "When was the last time we spent any spontaneous time together? Everything is precisely coordinated to fit into your Papal duties."

His nostrils flared with his own effort to restrain tears. "Topina, there is nothing in this world I treasure more than you and our friendship. All that I do now as Papa is because I have to. You have always been a want. I want to make time for you. I want to spend time with you. You understand?"

You nodded slowly but he could see you weren't quite buying it.

"I know things are different now that I'm no longer just a Cardinal but please don't ever think for a second that I value you any less than I used to. Maybe I even value you more now for managing to put up with my ridiculous schedule, hehe." Copia chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, stomach flipping when you let the smallest smile break out. "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. It makes my chest ache to see you like this and to know I'm the cause of it."

He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd seen you cry. It wasn't a common thing, that was for sure.

"I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. Starting with-" He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "-two bottles of wine for tonight."

Your eyes widened briefly. You hadn't had time to wonder why he was back in your office after leaving only an hour previously. "Tonight? But I thought you-"

He cut you off with a wave of his hand. "Cancelled. I was so relieved when I found out because it meant I got to come back and spend the evening with you."

"Really?"

"Sì!" He stood up, groaning when his knees made a concerning sound. "Come on, let's begin the night officially. I want to hear everything you've been needing to tell me."

You took his hand with a smile and followed him over to your couch where the two of you sat side by side, your legs thrown over his as you always did. Glasses of wine were poured and all previous upset was forgotten.

You informed him of all the latest Siblings of Sin gossip, Copia let you in on a few clergy secrets. Laughs were exchanged, bottles of wine were drained, a pleasant buzz settled over you both, and the two of you somehow got impossibly closer as the night progressed. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to be practically cuddling by the end of a long evening so when his arm landed around your shoulders and started tracing patterns up and down the length of your arm you thought nothing of it.

Copia didn't either until you adjusted the positioning of your legs over his and brushed against his crotch with one of your thighs. His breath hitched as all blood rushed straight to his dick. It was a reminder of why he usually limited his wine intake to a single shared bottle with you. It made him horny.

He desperately tried to focus on what you were saying as he hardened in his pants, begging the universe that you wouldn't notice. It didn't help that you were so close to him, when did you get so close, and that his hand was still moving gently over your arm and shoulder.

Firmly trying to remind himself that you were his best friend and that the proximity shouldn't have been making his cock twitch, he reached for a spare cushion and subtly tried to place it over his lap. It worked as you didn't pay any attention and carried on with your story.

Reminder: never bring two bottles of wine to an evening spent with you again.

Convinced he was now in the safe zone, Copia let his head rest against the back of the couch with his face turned towards you so you knew you still had his focus. What he didn't expect was for you to match the position. But instead rest your face against his arm, cheek pressed against his bicep. It also affected the way you were looking at him, eyes angled up to see through your lashes. He felt himself get harder.

Best friend, best friend, best friend.

The thought ran through his head screaming like a headless chicken. Could headless chickens scream? It didn't matter. What did matter was that being wine drunk apparently compelled him to think about what you'd feel like sat on his cock, clenching around his length, the noises you'd make-

His legs jolted up, jostling yours, as he twitched underneath the cushion.

Your head shot up, a look of worry crossing your face. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Oh, hehe, I'm fine." Copia replied through a tight jaw. He was a bad, bad man. "Just tired, I think."

You glanced towards the clock in the corner of the room by your desk. "It is getting late. Maybe we should head to bed."

"Good idea." He nodded enthusiastically, desperate to get away from you and distance his thoughts to something more appropriate. He shouldn't be thinking about fucking you. You were his best friend, his closest confidant. Why was he thinking about fucking you?

Damn wine.

"I've had a good time tonight." You smiled as you stood up from the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I was feeling before."

"Me too, topina. And I swear, from now on, you are always my top priority." He shifted slightly, wondering how he was supposed to stand up without you noticing the raging hard on he was sporting.

Your smile softened. "You gonna sit there all night or...?"

"Right, yes." He hesitated before standing up, hands rushing to cover his crotch as he did so, stumbling a little in the sudden movement.

"Woah." You reached out to steady him, a giggle escaping you. "You should handle your wine better than this. You're Italian."

"I handle my wine just fine." He bit back playfully, ignoring the way your hands were grasping onto him and how it had his head swimming. "It's just been a long day."

"Mhm, okay." You nodded, unconvinced. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

"That's not necessary." He said but followed you anyway. He couldn't understand why he was suddenly so sexually drawn to you. It couldn't just be the wine, right? It made him unbelievably horny, sure, but to this extent? And to his best friend no less?

You didn't reply as you started the route back to his dwellings, arm looped through his in an attempt to keep him upright.

Copia watched you out of the corner of his eye the whole way there, wondering when this primal attraction to you had started. It couldn't possibly have only begun that night, so strongly. He thought back on it. He'd never found you unattractive but, for some reason, your relationship had never taken that course. You'd been fast friends and that's the way it always had been. Why was the only thought on his mind now the idea of fucking your brains out?

Must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

Right?

All he knew for sure was that he couldn't wait to get back to his room so he could jerk the unclean thoughts of you away. His mind strayed to the concept of humping a pillow like a dog in heat. It seemed rather appealing, he'd always been a fan of dry humping. He wondered what it'd be like with you-

Stop.

Your voice knocked Copia out of his thoughts as you reached his door. "Do you need me to tuck you into bed or are you good now?"

He should have said he was good. He should have said goodnight. He should not have entertained the idea of you in his room when he was in this state. He should-

"Well, if you're offering." He grinned down at you, hoping to play it off as a joke.

You rolled your eyes at him as you opened his door, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. "Okay. Come on, Papa."

He bit down on his tongue at the use of his title. As often as you acknowledged his Papacy, you never directly referred to him as Papa. He'd always just been Copia to you. He liked it that way. His promotion hadn't changed the way you viewed him. But he couldn't deny the feelings that the use of Papa had stirred deep in his abdomen.

You guided Copia into his bedroom and left him to lean against one of the corners of his four poster bed as you started removing all of the decorative pillows from the surface of it.

"How many of these things does one guy need?" You snorted as you plucked another one with a lace trim and discarded it to the other side of the room.

Copia only watched on silently, the heat in his gaze increasing with every passing second. He wanted so desperately to banish the thoughts he was having. But how was he supposed to when you bent over his bed like that and gave him the perfect view of your ass? And why had you chosen to wear those jeans today?

He knew he couldn't have you, couldn't even bring up the subject with you. But what would one night with you be like? Just to get it out of his system. He was sure it was the wine doing all the decision making in his body so one night would surely cure him of all impure thoughts of you. Right?

He snapped out of it when you turned to look at him again, a wide smile brightening your face. It was a big turnaround from the way you'd been looking at him before with tears in your eyes. How bad of a friend was he to be thinking about you like this when only a few hours earlier he'd been making you cry.

"Need your pyjamas or are you too drunk to get changed?" You asked, eyes looking him up and down.

Copia froze when your eyes lingered on his crotch for a second too long. When had his hands stopped covering himself?

But you said nothing, only awaited an answer to your question.

"Not drunk." He mumbled and pushed himself off the pillar towards you. "But I'm fine. Thank you for walking me back. You can go to your own bed now."

Your breathing quickened as he stood only a foot or two in front of you. A dilemma had hit you. You always hugged goodnight. But how were you supposed to do that with the boner he was rocking. Were you even supposed to address it? But he was looking at you so expectantly. Did he even know what his body was doing? Or was he really that drunk?

So you just decided to bite the bullet and extended your arms out to him. Copia let out a visible sigh of relief, that you weren't repulsed by what his body was doing and running a mile away, as he collapsed into your embrace. His face got buried in your neck as his arms wound around your waist. You didn't fail to notice how he kept his pelvis angled slightly away from you. So he was aware.

You continued not to say anything on the matter as you did your usual hug routine of one arm around his shoulders and the other lifted so you could card your fingers through his hair.

Turns out, that was a big mistake.

Copia couldn't help himself. The sensation of your hand stroking through his greying locks and your nails scratching lightly at his scalp had his body going haywire. And you smelt so good. He had no control as his hips bucked forward into yours and a low whine rumbled from his throat.

The two of you froze instantly, bodies going rigid in each other's arms.

You didn't know what to do, mouth hanging open as all possible words escaped you. What you did know was that a twinge of something you'd never felt for him before had rocketed straight through you.

Copia was panicking, he was convinced he would be able to keep his sudden urges to himself. But all it had taken was a measly hug. So he resorted to what he'd been doing all evening. Apologising.

"Shit, I'm sorry. The wine, it makes me-" He paused as he didn't know what word to use.

But you came to his rescue.

"It's okay." You whispered, sliding your arms down and away from him. "You don't need to explain. Alcohol and bodily reactions and all that. It's good."

He pulled away from you and sat on the edge of his bed, sliding a gloved hand down his face. The leather came away marked black and white from his paints. He was beyond caring. "I'm still sorry, topina. It was inappropriate of me. Accept my apologies and promise me we'll never talk of it again."

"Talk of what?" You asked with a half smile, flattening the top of his hair. "Get some sleep. You could probably use it. Sleep off the wine. Goodnight, Copia."

"Goodnight." He huffed in reply, watching carefully as you exited his room and shut the door tightly behind you. He waited only a couple more seconds before grabbing the nearest pillow.

You, on the other hand, stood confused on the other side of his door for a moment. What had just happened? Copia was hard. In front of you. He'd rutted said hard on against you. Albeit briefly but still...

And you hadn't been entirely opposed to it.

You shook off the thought and started to make your way back to your room. However, you didn't get very far when you were stopped in your tracks by a dull thud and the sound of your best friend shrieking.

Instantly, you turned on your heel and practically ran straight back to his room. You were shocked to find, once you'd opened his door again, him sprawled on the floor and desperately grinding against a pillow.

"Oh." You breathed out, unable to move. It was like someone had glued your feet to the carpet. And fixed your eyes in place so you could only stare at him. "I heard you fall and I- I'm sorry."

That caught his attention as he suddenly stopped moving and tilted his head back to look at you. "Topina!"

"I shouldn't- shouldn't-"

Shouldn't what? You didn't know.

Copia looked at you with panic in his eyes as he stood up again. When had he fallen on the floor? "I'm fine. Sorry you had to see that."

Sorry?

"You don't need to be sorry." The twinge of something you'd felt before had returned. This time a lot stronger. And suddenly all rational thought was leaving you. "Do you want some help?"

It felt like his world suddenly crashed down around him. And all that was left was you.

Help? You couldn't possibly mean...

You saw the disbelief in his eyes so decided to clarify. "I'm suggesting we dry hump like horny teenagers, Copia."

Correction: you were his world.

What friend would suggest such a thing? You, apparently.

"You want to do that?" He asked hoarsely.

"Unless you're finding the pillow satisfactory." You glanced towards the rumpled item in question, still on the floor.

"No. I would much rather prefer a warm body."

"My warm body?" You questioned with a slightly teasing tone. "You seemed to like it a couple of minutes ago."

He felt himself blush at the reminder. "If you're offering."

The statement reflected one he'd said not long ago, when you'd suggested tucking him into bed. He couldn't believe how the night had turned out.

"Sit against your headboard." You instructed, shutting his door behind you and locking it for your own peace of mind. You highly doubted anyone was about to waltz into his bedroom at this hour but you'd rather not risk it. You didn't need anyone catching what you were about to do.

Copia didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping onto his bed and getting into position. He could feel himself burning with desire for you. A desire that was about to be fulfilled.

You took a deep breath as you looked at him, so eagerly waiting, before making your way over to him. "This is a one time thing. We don't speak about it again. Okay?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Okay."

You paused at his bedside for a moment, wondering whether he'd considered this before judging on his reaction to the scenario, then crawled onto the bed and towards him. You kicked off your shoes and settled into a kneeling position next to him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, needing to make sure he was certain of the decision.

"Sì, are you?" He eyed you hungrily and impatiently.

The look in his eyes sent a burning sensation straight to the base of your belly. "I'm sure."

You scooted closer to him, accepting an outstretched hand to balance yourself as you swung one of your legs over him and settled yourself down onto his lap. He was rock hard beneath you.

Copia hissed as you settled your weight against him, hands flying to your waist to steady you. "This may not last as long as you think, topina."

"Pity, I expected a man of your age to not be a two pump chump." You smirked and shifted yourself minutely, revelling in the groan he let out. "Are you always like this when you're horny or is it the wine?"

He licked his bottom lip as he stalled his answer. "I can be... desperate and needy. The wine is making it worse, I think. Should stick to one bottle in future."

Your mind whirled at the thought of him being desperate and needy. You wondered if you could get him in that state tonight. "Need you to guide me to what feels good. Not sure how you want me."

Copia wanted you in all kinds of ways. He didn't say that aloud though. "I assure you anything you do will feel good. I am focusing right now on not coming with you just sat on top of me."

"Oh." Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The wine really got you wound up, didn't it?"

"The wine, yes." He replied as his hands slid down to your hips, tugging you to rock against him. The friction of that one simple movement caused his mouth to drop open in pleasure. He really wasn't lasting long tonight.

You watched in amusement as his eyes screwed shut when you did it again of your own accord. Shifting slightly, you tried to find a good angle for you. As fun as it was to watch him enjoy himself, you couldn't help but notice that not a whole lot was happening for you. You were sure if you moved your hips just right you'd find the seam in your jeans and you'd reach ecstasy as you ground yourself against him.

"Topina, slow down. Fuck." Copia's hands gripped your hips tightly to stop you from moving.

You hadn't realised that in all your searching for your own pleasure, you'd been giving him his. "Shit, sorry. Just trying to find a good position."

He frowned. "Is this not good for you?"

You shrugged. "Jeans are making it difficult to feel much. They're pretty thick."

His hands ran up and down your denim clad thighs, squeezing softly at the flesh beneath his finger tips, as he pondered something. "Take them off."

"Copia, I-" You cut yourself off when you noticed the way his eyes were trained on the movements of his hands over your thighs. "Do you want me to take them off?"

He glanced up at you. "I want you to do whatever is going to make you feel good as well."

"I'm doing this to help you." You croaked, not even believing it yourself anymore.

He shook his head. "Not helpful unless you enjoy yourself too."

That was all it took to have you rolling away from him and kicking your jeans off of your legs as quickly as possible and then settling yourself back over him, this time with only your underwear left in the way.

Copia's hands returned to your thighs, squeezing the bare skin now instead. "Try now."

So you did.

"Fuck me." You gasped, hands flying to grip his shoulders. You hadn't anticipated the texture of his pants, the fancy lace up and stylish wear and tear, and what that would feel like. It was like they were built for this.

"Feels better now." He beamed at you, not needing a confirmation of any sort since the way your face had scrunched up was proof enough.

"You can never wear these around me again now." You grumbled, gesturing at his pants. "Will make me horny."

"Is that such a bad thing?" He teased, snaking an arm around your waist to guide your movements. "Only if you promise not to wear those jeans around me."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Make your ass look good." He grunted, rocking your hips against his even harder.

"You were looking at my ass?"

"Guilty." A choked groan escaped his mouth. "It is not a regular thing, I assure you."

The retort you had planned died on your lips and was replaced by a strangled cry as he bucked up underneath you. You buried your face against his shoulder with a whimper of his name. "Copia."

His eyes rolled back at the sound of his name sounding like that coming from your mouth. "I know, topina, I know. Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Un-fucking-believable." You sighed, picking up the pace of your rolling hips.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, depraved noises escaping you both as your bodies moved in rhythm with each other.

Copia's arm was locked around you, the other firm on one of your thighs, squeezing occasionally. He could feel himself edging dangerously close to release. But he wanted you to come first. "Need you to come for me, topina. What's going to get you there, hm?"

Your head turned so your face was against his neck as you whined. "Talk to- fuck- talk to me."

"And what would you like me so say? How you feel so perfect rubbing yourself against me right now? That you're my perfect topina?" He chuckled when you mewled. "Oh, you liked that."

"Fuck." You gasped. "Yes, yes."

The grinding of your hips became desperate, almost feral, as you neared closer to your orgasm quicker than you ever had done before.

"Was it being called perfect? Or being called mine?" Copia mused, having to pause his thoughts for a second as he could feel himself practically throbbing beneath you. "Fuck, you really are perfect at this."

The way he said it, the tone of his voice, the breathlessness of it, had you toppling over the edge. Your pelvis bucked a few more times, chasing the high, as your mouth formed around a silent scream against the skin of his neck.

Copia took that as his queue to let loose, wildly rutting up underneath you for a minute before his own orgasm hit. He couldn't even find it in himself to regret the mess he'd made in his pants. It was worth it.

He instantly relaxed beneath you, accepting the full weight of your body as the afterglow had left you in a state of not being able to hold yourself up anymore. Copia's gloved fingers danced up and down the length of your back, soothing you.

When you finally sat up again, hands planted firmly on his chest to support yourself, you looked content. Copia was glad you weren't suddenly freaking out.

"Thanks for the orgasm, buddy." You patted him gently on the chest before standing up onto shaky legs.

Copia chuckled. Buddy? "I should be thanking you. I was sentenced to a night with my pillow until you offered to help."

"It was mutually beneficial." You assured him as you tugged your jeans up your legs. "Now we just never speak of it again."

"Sì, sì." Copia knew he was going to have trouble with that. "You can stay the night if you want."

You glanced at him. "We've already crossed one line tonight. Let's not cross any others."

He didn't point out how you'd shared a bed before and it hadn't meant anything. But he didn't want to push you. "If you're sure."

"I am." Slipping your shoes back onto your feet, you looked at him. "You should definitely get some rest now."

"I will, topina." He replied softly.

You straightened up and placed your hands on your hips. "Well, I'm done here so... see you around."

Copia shook his head with a laugh and corrected you. "See you tomorrow."

"Really?" You looked hopeful.

"Sì. I was being sincere when I said you are my priority. I will make more time for you, I promise." He moved to the edge of his bed and beckoned you over. When you approached him he cupped your chin in a gloved hand. "My topina, bestest friend in the world."

You giggled at his phrasing. "I can accept that title."

Of being the bestest friend in the world? Or of being his?

"Goodnight, Copia." You planted a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It caught him off guard. But not in an unpleasant way. In fact, he found he rather liked it. "Goodnight."

He watched on fondly as you slipped out of his room and disappeared into the night. Collapsing backwards onto his bed, Copia wondered how he was going to manage never mentioning tonight to you again.

A/N: Second Copia dry humping fic. Apologies for the slight repeat but I think about it a lot when it comes to him…

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part II

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: panic attacks (reader is tormented soul🤷)

I'll just drop it here.

Also I felt really bad for saying no to so many nice persons (I really admire the inner power of people who can do that so easily and without regrets), so there's going to be a taglist 🫥

Lovely divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part I | Part III

You were sitting at the table, eyes downcast, cheeks slightly pink. Everyone around you was celebrating your wedding, but you hardly paid attention to it. Your thoughts were swirling around the warm hand on your lap, holding yours so firmly it almost hurt, thumb drawing small circles on your skin. What could it mean? You'd never seen this kind of behaviour in Hewn city. Public, lewd touches maybe, but secret, intimate ones? Was it a good sign? Or bad one?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when his hand suddenly withdrew. You didn't dare to look at him though. In a second, air little bit cooled down and a silky night-kissed voice with a pinch of arrogance spoke from your left.

"Nice party, Eris."

You immediately recognized High Lord of Night. Feeling the urge to stand up and bow as you would do in Hewn city, you pushed against the chair, but it didn't move even an inch. Eris' hand was now on an armrest of your chair, holding it at place.

"What did you expect? It's my wedding day. I hoped to please my wife," he said, his voice dangerously low, balancing between politeness and sharpness of displeasure.

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered with bowed head. The pressure of powers of these two males was almost unbearable, suffocating you.

"Hmm," it seemed that High Lord of Night smirked. "I hoped that I could have a word with your wife, if it isn't too much to ask for."

"Whatever you want to tell her, you can do so here and now," Eris retorted, cold rage seeping from every word.

"C'mon," Rhysand laughed amusedly. "It only takes a minute and you'll have her back. I won't hurt her, you have my word."

Eris inhaled sharply, considering it. Then he just waved his hand and went back to watching the dancers.

"Here, let me help you," High Lord of Night offered you his arm, helping you to stand up. Then he silently led you to the ceiling-to-floor windows and out on the terrace. He let go of your hand and leaning against the railing looked up at the night sky.

"Stars are so different here, aren't they," he sighed softly.

You quickly took a look at twinkling lights that illuminated the terrace with a cool glow. It was the first time you'd ever seen the night sky and you'd like to keep watching that mesmerising beauty for the rest of your life, but.. your gaze sank down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I'm afraid that I have nothing to compare it with."

You could feel his piercing gaze to move to you then and you shivered under its weight.

"Please, call me Rhysand," his voice was kind, nothing like the cold, merciless one he used to address crowd in your hometown.

You swallowed hard. "My lord, I couldn't-"

He softly interrupted you. "If it makes you feel better, you can call me by my name only when we are alone. Like now."

Who you were to oppose the High Lord. "As you wish, my l-.. Rhysand," you curtsied.

"Ah, and no bowing, dear. I don't need such formalities. After all you aren't my subject anymore. We're equal. That's why I want you to treat me like that. What's your name?"

You again swallowed, dread eating up on you. Equal to High Lords. What a crazy thing to think. You could never be more than a servant, a submissive mute wife who would speak up only with husband's approval.

"My name is Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, tasting it. "Lovely name. How old are you, Y/N?"

"I-I'm 19."

He was silent for a moment. Feeling uncomfortable with his eyes trained on you, you shifted weight slightly, your gaze still focused on the pattern of tiles at his feet.

"Tell me, my dear, how do you feel about this? About the marriage?"

"I-" You started to sweat. What should you say? What did he want to hear?

"Don't be scared. You can be honest with me. I won't hurt you no matter what you say," his voice was so soft that you believed him.

"I'm just doing as I was told.." you stuttered.

"I thought so," he said sadly. "I guess that you've never met him before, right? Now that you've seen him up close, do you at least like him?"

"Eris," he added when you didn't respond right away.

"l-I'm not sure, my l-" Your heart was beating in your ears so fast. "I mean, he's quite good looking, but I'm-.. I don't know him well."

You felt like fainting any minute now, your vision blurring. If your husband overheard this conversation, he would certainly get so angry. Under no circumstances should a wife speak ill of her husband. Not even slightly. That was the very first rule you were taught.

"It's okay, my dear," in a blink of eye High Lord of Night was at your side, one hand supporting you, the other one gently rubbing on your back. "Just breathe. Deep breaths, yeah? Nobody's going to find out about what you said here. Don't worry."

Slowly you calmed down. Only once your heart slowed down, his hands moved to your face, lifting it up so he could look into your eyes. You gaped at him in surprise. Remembering the manners, you tried to avert your eyes to the side just above his shoulder as it was expected. However, he wouldn't let you, forcing your gaze back to his face with sad smile.

"Now listen to me carefully, dear Y/N. This isn't Hewn city. Whatever you experienced there, it's over now. You certainly heard all kinds of rumours about Eris and I'm not going to lie to you and say that that isn't true because it is. However, it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you too. If he was after all, you don't have to put up with it. If he ever hurts you, just let me know and I'll sent someone to get you to safety. Will you remember that?"

Whole galaxies danced in those violet-blue eyes that searched yours, genuine care seeping from each of his words. You quietly nodded, unable to find your voice.

"Good girl," he really smiled then. That kind grin completely changed his expression. If he was handsome before, now he was breathtaking. "I really hope you'll find your happiness here."

With that he stepped back and his hands casually slipped into the pockets of trousers. He once again looked up at the night sky.

"Autumn is beautiful season. I'm sure that you'll like it once you settle down enough to start to explore your new home. Tonight it's quite cold. Let's get you back inside. Eris gets mad if you catch cold because of me."

Offering you his arm, he escorted you back and to your seat. As soon as he noticed you, Eris stood up to hold a chair for you, his eyes narrowed at Rhysand.

"Unharmed. Just as I promised," Rhysand winked at him. Then he took your hand and placed a kiss on its back. "Be happy, dear Y/N."

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered, bowed to him and sat down. With a one-sided grin Rhysand spun on his heel and headed to his mate who was currently talking with some beautiful lady near to the dance floor.

Your husband slid into his seat, his gaze burning holes into Rhysand's back. He was quite displeased. You felt it even without looking up at him. Once you were again alone his hand found yours under the table.

"You are freezing cold," he murmured and his skin heated with magic. The warmth seeped into your brittle hands. For a moment your tension melted like a snow with the touch of his long fingers.

In contrast to the warm touch, when he spoke again, his voice was so cold and angry that you shivered. "What did he want?"

Breath caught in your throat, heart skipped few beats as all blood left your face.

"My lord," you said in small trembling voice, trying to swallow the lump that rose in your throat.

Eris cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing. He said nothing, waiting for your answer.

"He asked me," you stammered, "about the wedding. A-and offered me help.."

"Help?" His fingers drummed impatiently on the table and then clenched into fist.

"Yes, my lord."

"What kind of help?"

You slightly cringed in your seat.

"T-to run away a-and shelter."

His hand squeezed your fingers firmer and you prepared for pain. Then he suddenly let go and started to slowly retreat back to his personal space. All the warmth left with him.

"And," he spoke quietly and slowly, "do you want to go with him?"

You panicked, your breath becoming labored. When your father spoke like this, it always meant the worst punishment. You knew what to expect from him, what kind of torment, but this male? You had no idea what he would do to you. Would he just beat you up? Or would he even burn you? Dozens of possibilities flashed through your mind.

"Do you want to go with him?" he repeated his question when it took you too long to answer.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your skirt, but even that couldn't stop the tremor.

"N-n-no, my lord, n-never."

The tears began gathering behind your closed eyelids. You waited for the punishment. His fingers lightly touched the back of your hand, hesitantly, slowly moving forward until both of your hands were once again in his warm grip. He lightly squeezed them.

You heaved shakily. Opening eyes, you blinked away tears and gazed at your connected hands on your lap. His thumb was gently rubbing your knuckles now. It was.. comforting.

It was unbelievable. He did nothing to you, only held your hand. In disbelieve you looked up at his profile. He was again watching the dancing couples, his expression unreadable. After a while he turned to you with a tight smile. His eyes were soft and somehow sad when they met yours.

"I'd let you go, if you said that you wanted to."

The tears were back, stinging your eyes, but for the different reason now. Would he really let you go? Just like that?

Something sparked in your chest and hope filled your heart. Rhysand's words echoed in your mind: 'it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you'. You prayed to the Mother that it was true.

You shook your head decisively. "I don't want to," you said.

The corners of his mouth turned up for a second in a hardly there smile. As if he just reminded himself where he was, your husband broke the gaze, turning back to dancers and the unreadable mask slid back to his face with almost audible click.

You were breathless. His amber eyes. They engraved straight into your soul. For that short moment you saw flames burning in them, wild and sensual, playful and lustful but never hurtful.

Without knowing what you were doing, you freed one hand and placed it on his. The movements of his thumb stilled, whole his body tensed. You turned your other hand in his grip palm up, your fingers timidly intertwined with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly looked down on your hands and then up at your face. With a small smile he relaxed in his chair. His fingers clenched, holding you firmly while thumb danced over your skin in rhythmic motion that matched the music.

The party went on for another three hours, some of the guests were already so drunken that servants had to help them into their seats. No one could leave before the newly married couple. It was around the midnight and you were so tired. It was a long and tiring day for you and it was starting to take its toll. Enveloped in pleasant warmth, your eyelids grew too heavy and it was getting more and more harder to fight the sleep.

Suddenly Eris's hand slipped from between yours and he called for servant with a small gesture. The boy immediately ran to him and leaned closer. Your husband told him something and boy disappeared. Not even a minute after that two maids appeared and approached you. They stopped to bow and one of them stepped closer to whisper to your ear.

"Please, follow us, my lady."

Fully awake now, you looked at Eris in silent question, but he only nodded imperceptibly. Your eyes flew to your father who gave you a scary look. The message was clear: if you messed this up, you would regret it.

It was time for the last part to conclude and seal the deal for good.

The marriage consummation.

A lump rose in your throat, cold sweat running down your spine. Mother told you what to expect, they taught you what to do to please your husband, but it didn't mean you were ready for that or that you wanted it. Your husband was handsome and his behaviour toward you was nice and a complete surprise so far, but still he was a stranger.

Whether you wanted or not, you had to do this.

Quietly accepting your fate, you stood up and on unstable legs followed the maids. As you were getting away from the ballroom, the music gradually died down until you were walking through completely silent part of the castle. The winding hallways were dimly lit and empty, red carpet muffled the footsteps. Here and there you noticed a huge painting or some shiny exhibited armor or statue. It was hard to say how far it was to your destination, but your heart was beating harder and faster with every step you took nonetheless.

Maids finally stopped before a tall oak double doors, as far as you could see the only one in this hallway. One of them opened it, the other one waited until you went in and then closed the doors behind.

You found yourself in some private sitting room. Fae lights dimly illuminated the huge finely decorated space in warm light brown, gold and beige colours. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, small fire crackled in a hearth in the corner of the room. There was smaller dinning table near the windows and set of sofas and armchairs with small pillows in autumn colours around the hearth. Bookshelves were full of books, soft looking carpet on the floor. It was cozy.

On each side of the room, there were identical double doors. Maids headed to the one on the left and opened it widely. With heavy heart to followed them into the bedroom with a massive bed that dominated to the room. Except of the bed there were also two ottomans and coffee table, vanity, mirror, some drawers and another doors that probably led to walk-in closet and bathroom. You could love it if only it wasn't a place for certain act you weren't ready for.

You swallowed hard, your eyes glued to that monstrous bed. Maids disappeared behind one of the doors and soon you heard sounds of running water from there. They were running around, preparing everything necessary, giving you a moment to breathe through the panic creeping on you. Then they came back to you. Without a word they helped you to free yourself from the heavy dress and corset.

Once in the bathtub they conscientiously washed every part of your body, massaging some nice smelling bath oils into your skin. After that they wrapped you in a soft towel and ushered you back to the bedroom to the vanity where they took care of your hair and helped you into the nightgown. They worked carefully but fast.

When they left, you looked in the mirror. The nightgown was made of fine, almost transparent fabric that hugged your body, leaving just little to imagination. You were on the verge of crying.

Internally panicking you sat down on one of ottomans because good wife should never go to bed before her husband and repeating to yourself all you were taught about the act, you waited.

And you waited and waited until you fell asleep.

Taglist: @nocasdatsgay @b0xerdancer @lilah-asteria @talesofadragon @marvelbros-oneshots @acourtofbatboydreams @li0nh34rt

[undyinglantern]

see it would be one thing if hq had just one short character, but even just in karasuno nishinoya is also (even if not as much as hinata, still pretty) short. and kenma also more somewhere in the middle between not quite short but not as tall as the majority of the other characters/players we see. i dont know who that white haired guy with the eyeliner is (never got that far) but hes another pointedly short guy and then theres also the original little giant, as well as the old man/coach. and they all have similar but still distinctly differing experiences

and when I inevitably get back into haikyuu what then

[therainscene]

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

[j0kers-light]

what if y/n was an airhead... not necessarily super dumb but a little slow or ditzy... and a little dumb. but also very positive and carefree. basically a golden retriever type of person 😂 i just wonder what j would think about that 😂

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

Oh this is gonna be fun. 🥰 I love doing reaction head canons! Let’s GO!!!!! Don’t ask why I’m still up at 2am. I hope you enjoy anon!

The first time that Joker met you, he wanted to slash your throat so bad. How are you so positive and carefree? There's no way you're like this 24/7.

You are. Gods you really are. Joker questions your mental state because you are too kind to others and your naivety is so pure, you are considered a national treasure. He wants to taint you. Point. Blank. Simple.

How are you so joyful? Do you do drugs? You're always smiling, offering up words of encouragement, and soooooooo many hugs to strangers. You are wayy too bubbly for J's tastes.

Too often you remind Joker of his ex Harley and he refuses to do that all over again. He considers breaking up with you because you're just so... ditzy.

Your attention span is that of a goldfish, and you literally stop to smell the roses while out and about. You even play peek-a-boo with children you see on the street. End his misery please. 😭

But despite the constant headaches you give Joker, he can’t seem to stay away. He’s addicted.

Frost and the boys stare at Joker in horror when you visit the hideout (unannounced) with a basket full of baked goods; blissfully unaware that a goon almost shot you for trespassing.

This is the girl their boss is dating?!!?!? HOW? It’s giving peak grumpy x sunshine energy because you and Joker do not compute.

BUT. IT WORKS. The laws of the universe bend to make it happen and Joker cannot thank them enough for placing you in his life. He wouldn’t be the same without you.

You know you can be an airhead at times but Joker reins in your overly bubbly persona. He's always looking out for you and not allowing anyone to make you into a pushover.

In return, you encourage and offer Joker the love and support he secretly needs while quelling his more violent tendencies.

You calm his anger. He keeps you focused. 🔥✨

You're still his Light although it stands for Sunlight in this scenario and you get a sun tattoo behind your ear in honor of it.

Joker is grateful that you are nothing like Harley. Yes you can be annoying at times but you mean well in the long run.

Its not just obsessive loyalty and toxic love; you genuinely care about Joker and you push him to become a better man every day.

And the feeling is mutual. Joker does not tolerate anyone making fun of his sunlight. He kills anyone who insults your intelligence and anyone that makes you cry, mysteriously disappears.

Joker is the only one who can call you silly or dumb because it’s not an insult when J says it. 🥹

You giggle anytime he calls you silly girl or his dumb little slut. AND l OOP! SORRY ! I forgot this was sfw!! 👀👀 MOVING ON 👩🏽‍💻

Speaking of you barging into the hideout with baked goodies. That actually happened.

Everyone was shocked when you knocked on the door with a loud, "HELLLLLOOOOOOOO! J are you in there? I brought snackies!"

No one knows how you navigated this deep into Joker’s territory without being murdered. No one knows how you bypassed the building’s security.

You just waltz in like you own the place, bringing an aura of joy and happiness in your wake.

Joker was in an important meeting, discussing how to eliminate a rival popup gang when he heard your heels clicking down the hall. He knows that sound from anywhere and his face turns white.

A goon is right behind you threatening you to leave or else, when you just causally walk into the meeting room, blissfully unaware of the danger you are now in.

Do you even notice all the guns trained on you? Nope, you only have eyes for Joker. You stop yourself from tackling him with a hug.

"There you are J! Oh. Are you busy? Well not anymore!! I baked muffins, and cookies, and oh!” You finally acknowledge the room full of men.

You blink twice before smiling wide. “Hi everyone!! Does anyone have a peanut allergy? I made treats with and without nuts just in case!”

An entire room full of dangerous criminals stare in disbelief as you unload your wicker basket right onto the table, all while humming a song.

They all turn to stare at Joker who is ready to crawl into a hole from embarrassment. He doesn't even know where to begin there's so much to unpack here.

How did you get here all by yourself? Who let you in?! Why did you bake so much?! Is that a pain au chocolat?

Surely you sense the threat around you but no. You are so oblivious, it’s almost sad to watch.

Some brave soul does announce their allergy and you quickly deliver them a nut free brownie on a pink napkin.

Your naïve personality triggers an understanding in the room and people start to lower their weapons in exchange for treats.

By the end of your impromtu visit, Joker's gang is obsessed with you and your baking. And so the questions start pouring in.

"Y/n you’re so nice! How is someone like you with the boss?"

You look up from handing a goon a cookie, "You mean J? Oh!" You look away bashful as they all wait for a response. Even Joker is intrigued with what you’ll say.

“I’m not the smartest girl in Gotham but Joker doesn’t care! He’s the most patient person I’ve ever met and he never belittles me! How could I not love him? He’s so protective too! He always murders the mean people who make fun of me. Isn’t he so romantic?”

The room goes silent after that last bit. And so it all starts to make sense.

“Great. She’s crazy too." One guy whispers.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (IX)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Negotiations with Herald Elrond do not go as smoothly as your husband planned and you become more and more aware of your feelings towards Adar.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This chapter is quite short but the previous one was long and it would be too big if I included this part there, meanwhile the next chapter(s) will be the last part(s) already with two alternative versions and the events from this one remain the same for both endings – that's why it's a separate chapter. 💕 By the way, do you remember the poll at the end of one of the previous chapters? Adar won there against Sauron, which means most of you would rather see the Reader in this story end up with Adar. As I said, there will be two alternative versions, so you can choose the ending. However, I think it is obvious already that both relationships will not be of an easy kind. There is lots of betrayal going on between Sauron and the Reader but also Adar finding out about her being Sauron's lover is deeply problematic... 🙈

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 3,650

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (IX)

You were responsible for looking after your prisoner Lady Galadriel while your husband was attacking Eregion and damming the river. He didn’t want you near the actual fight, at least not for now yet. You knew what he needed your prisoner for and you were supposed to prepare her for the task.

“Your husband is a fool,” Galadriel spoke to you through gritted teeth when you were leading her by the shackles inside the cage prepared for her. “I do not care if I live or die. I fight for ideas much bigger than you or I. I fight for Middle-earth and it will fail if Adar walks right into Sauron’s trap.”

“Perhaps,” you answered mysteriously and gave her a scolding look, “but you overestimate my influence on Adar. I think I have done that, too. He will not listen to me in this case. He is too determined to get rid of Sauron and to erase him from Middle-earth completely. He does not think rationally,” you explained to her. “He would burn the whole world, I think, if it would only take Sauron down with it.”

Galadriel stayed silent and you pushed her inside the cage before locking it and hiding the key. However, it was not time yet for her to be taken out of the war camp, so you just sat on a chair in front of the cage and kept staring at her, studying everything you had wished to be once as a young and naive Elven maiden.

“What is it like?” Galadriel asked in a whisper after a long while of silence.

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“What is it like to go down the dark path?” She furrowed her brows and your heart skipped a beat.

Why was she wondering? Was she considering it? Or had she in the past? Was Sauron the reason for that? Your lover?

“It is freeing but treacherous. It has its price like everything else,” you shrugged your arms.

“Do you love him? Do you love Adar?” She asked one more question but it did not feel like an interrogation. In a way, it felt like being questioned by a curious child.

But Lady Galadriel was not a curious child. She was one of the most noble Elven ladies. Her heart and mind had to be a real mess if she kept asking such things. And, once again, you had that malicious feeling that Sauron was the reason for her curiosity.

“I have grown to love him,” you admitted without thinking and then you looked away, trying to avoid her surprised gaze.

Because you were surprised, too. You had never said that out loud – not to him, not to anyone, not to your own self. And yet, your lips answered before your mind could think of a coherent and vague reply.

You loved Adar but you were so entangled in Sauron’s web that you brought him to his death.

“Are you asking me these because of Sauron the Dark Lord?” You asked Lady Galadriel, trying to change the subject. “Because of the past you once shared with him?”

“Funny. I have just realised you call yourself the Dark Lady of Mordor,” Galadriel also preferred to change the subject and talk about you rather than about herself.

“It is not the name I have given to myself. What are you insinuating?” You moved uncomfortably.

That was the exact reason why you did not want to spend too much time with her alone. You were scared that her heart – influenced by Sauron just like yours – would recognise you as her rival. 

“Perhaps you do not hate him as much as your husband does. Perhaps you idolise him,” Galadriel pointed out and you stood up angrily and pressed the tip of your dagger to her throat.

“Shut it, you are pushing too hard, Elf,” you warned her and she looked down at the blade with widened eyes.

Sauron’s dagger. Of course. You only proved her point.

“It was a gift from my husband,” you explained and hid the dagger away. “He took it from Sauron’s dead body after killing him.”

“Beware. His items are as powerful as he, Uruk,” Galadriel threatened.

“I am not easily corrupted,” you remarked although it was a lie and an obvious one as well. And she knew it.

“Really?” She asked.

“I told you to shut it, didn’t I?” You only drawled out through gritted teeth and sat back on the chair.

The sounds from afar were making you feel anxious but you knew that now there was absolutely no chance of convincing Adar to go back home. He would never abandon the battlefield and retreat his forces. His pride was too grand for that and you could only watch how the events would turn out.

Perhaps Sauron would not win. There was a small thread of hope that he would not succeed in his scheme. It would not be the first time when Adar outsmarted him.

And even though you already knew that to Sauron you were nothing but a tool – you still felt guilty for thinking such thoughts. As if he was a god indeed but the funny thing was, you had never felt so guilty after abandoning the Valar. But you felt guilty now for a man so rotten and evil.

He should have stayed dead.

Charging Elven horses were a beautiful sight and quite powerful, too. Even if they were coming right at you. But you stood still despite your pounding heart and clinged to Adar’s arm to feel a bit safer.

If you were to die now alongside him – perhaps it would be for the better. You would miss out on so many awful things that were about to come.

And as you watched the Elven soldiers charging towards you, you thought they looked beautifully terrifying. Some part of you mourned you were no longer their kin but the other part of you felt oddly proud to be the very thing that repulsed them now, leading the army of filthy creatures shouting obscenities towards them. And in that way you were an Uruk, too. There was nothing saint to you and no rules to follow anymore.

Except for Sauron. He was your only exception but you hoped to get free of his chains, too.

Being Adar’s wife had taught you many things but humility was not one of the lessons. On the contrary, he had made you realise that you deserved to be treated as an equal.

At the sight of Lady Galadriel inside the cage, with an Orc’s blade cutting her neck and drawing blood, the army of the Elves stopped all of the sudden right in front of you. And the man leading them was Herald Elrond himself.

He was one of those important Elves that everyone knew but he had never treated you like you were worse just because you were a Lady from The Southlands, living inside the cold and raw fortress of Ostirith. He had always treated you with kindness and respect.

And now he was staring at you if you were something disgusting.

Many considered Galadriel to be made of pure light but it was him out of all who would be the most difficult to corrupt even though he was half-human.

“Welcome, Commander Elrond,” Adar took a step ahead, leaving you in the shadows with his children.

Long silence occurred but it was obvious that despite the hesitation, Elrond would not leave his friend in the enemy’s cage or continue the attack under such circumstances. Therefore, he nodded at his people and jumped out of his horse. He took one more man with him – Vorohil – and he agreed to follow you with him to your camp and negotiate.

You walked alongside Galadriel’s cage, watching her carefully as the Orcs kept pushing it with her inside. You could feel Elrond’s disgusted and curious eyes on you as you decided it was getting frustrating to be perceived by all those Elves who knew nothing of you or your history. All they knew was judgement – another hypocrisy of a kin known to be so pure and noble.

You truly wanted to go back to Mordor; to hide in the shadows and remain there forever, inside your realm and far away from others. Yet, who could you blame for being here and not there? It had been you pushing Adar to come to Eregion.

You stood next to your husband who was sitting by the table inside your tent. This time you did not choose to sit next to him like the last time when you had been negotiating with Lady Galadriel. She was in shackles by the wooden pole and Glûg was standing behind you, staring at Elrond and Vorohil with hatred in his small eyes.

There had been a time when his eyes had been nearly the same when laid upon you. And now he would die to defend you – of that you were sure.

“The Ring you carry,” Adar began once they were sitting across the table. “Show it to me,” he requested.

“A foolish act if I had brought it here,” Elrond pointed out.

“You are a courtier. More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword,” Adar told him and you smirked a little because you had thought the same of yourself.

Sauron himself had once told you something similar; an excuse to keep you away from the important events. And for many years you had believed in that. It was Adar who had gifted you a dagger to defend yourself and who had allowed you to keep the very sword you had used to doom The Southlands. It was him who had begun teaching you how to wield it and you really hoped he would live to finish this task.

“You’ve never seen me wield either,” Elrond answered.

“You should’ve just kept charging, Elrond,” Galadriel whispered.

“If she speaks again, cut out her tongue,” Adar looked up at Glûg and the Orc approached her to put his curved blade to her neck as other Orcs growled and Elrond moved uncomfortably. “Sauron is my enemy as much as yours,” Adar addressed him again. “Give me what I need to defeat him and let us all be rid of him.”

“Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?” Elrond asked angrily.

“Eregion has fallen into shadow,” you interrupted them and Elrond looked up at you, a little surprised. Perhaps he was surprised to see that you were allowed to speak. “It belongs to The Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls,” you informed him and calling Sauron such a name rolled off your tongue with a bit of satisfaction.

But also guilt. Again.

“The Deceiver does not work alone,” Elrond looked up at you and your heart stopped beating for a moment as you blinked your eyes slowly, trying to remain calm. “You two have helped him like the fools that you are,” he spat out and you sighed out of relief.

“You cannot save Eregion now, it is a lost cause,” Adar told Elrond. “You can save Galadriel,” he looked behind to stare at her with Glûg still pressing his blade to her throat. “It is an earnest offer,” Adar added. “I suggest you take it and leave Sauron to me.”

He stood up and approached Elrond very slowly while looking at him carefully.

“You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar,” he pointed out and shook his head. “If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins, you must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmanoeuvre you, my forces outfight yours, and you will fall.”

“Not before I have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin,” Elrond stood up to face Adar as his face winced in anger.

Glûg growled behind you and you shushed him, softly.

“Easy, my dear,” you addressed him, “it is nothing but the noble and pure Elves showing their hypocrisy once again. Oh, how glad I am to not be their kin any longer,” you looked deep into Elrond’s eyes.

Of course, technically you were. You would always be, no matter how many people would start calling you an Uruk. But in their eyes, you were no longer a part of the family and they would never accept you. Therefore, you were not their kin.

“Our children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn’t bear to hear spoken aloud,” Adar whispered to Elrond and you felt a shiver go down your spine when he called the Orcs your children.

Your children. Well, you had thought of it before, that in some way they were like step-children to you. But you had never expected him to say it out loud, especially in a moment like this; facing the enemy and making a statement to the outside world.

Your children. Another responsibility being put onto your shoulders. He had been right when he had told you that the power was a burden and him sharing it with you was not a gift – it was a curse. Being the Lord Father of the Orcs was yet another burden and now he wanted you to carry it with him. Like an equal he treated you as. Because there were downsides to being an equal to someone as powerful as well. If you were still as naive as before, you would think that Sauron had been simply protecting you from the burdens whenever he had been keeping you away from all the big things.

Your children. How could you betray them now? How could you lead them to death and slavery? 

“Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar?” Elrond asked your husband, looking at him only but his words felt like knives stabbing your heart and creating a bleeding, open wound. “Are they?” Elrond asked, addressing the Orcs standing next to you.

You could feel their uneasiness and Glûg even lowered his blade from Galadriel’s throat. You nearly wanted to point out to Elrond that he was unwillingly following Sauron’s scheme at the moment, too; turning the Orcs against their Lord Father.

And you knew his question was a difficult one for your husband, because he didn’t answer it. He changed the subject instead.

“The Ring for Galadriel’s life. What is it to be?” He asked.

Elrond looked down and walked past Adar to watch Galadriel’s face. She was crying silent tears and in that moment, you nearly felt sorry for her.

“Ask me on the field,” Elrond turned around to face your husband again, “when the neck with a blade against is yours.”

The Orcs snarled and you snorted at his words, however your mockery was of a nervous kind and you could see that Adar was not happy with this outcome.

Despite his rotten and dark soul, you knew that he truly hoped to form some sort of alliance with the Elves for this battle. Deep within his soul, he hoped to get rid of Sauron and to prove to the Elves that his darkness was of a different kind than the Dark Lord’s. He hoped that in the end, the Elves would let the Orcs go back to Mordor in peace.

Even a man like Adar could be naive sometimes.

You approached him because your heart ached for him, especially at the sight of his expression.

“Very well,” he looked at Elrond’s face. “I will meet you there… with her head on a pike,” he threatened and you held his hand gently with your soft ones.

Elrond looked down at your joined fingers for a brief moment and then he stared intensely into your husband’s eyes.

“If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell,” he said.

Adar nodded slightly but he looked over his shoulder to lay his eyes upon Glûg to make sure.

“He’s unarmed,” Glûg said, therefore Adar nodded at Elrond and Glûg walked away from Galadriel.

You squeezed Adar’s hand tighter and stood in front of him, blocking his view and trying to distract his uneasy mind with yourself even though it felt treacherous since you were the very viper causing his demise.

“How strange is the way that the Elves love,” you whispered to him. “They would truly sacrifice people the most dear to them for their ideas,” you pointed out, bringing up the situation with Arondir and his human lover.

It felt now as if it had taken place in another lifetime.

Adar did not say anything to that and he kept watching Elrond carefully over your shoulder, which made you look down nervously as you fidgeted with his fingers; your wedding rings rubbing against each other and shimmering slightly in the dim light.

When Elrond – surprisingly – kissed Galadriel, everyone looked away, including the Orcs and most certainly your husband. You wondered about the nature of Elrond’s relationship with Galadirel but you did not care enough to actually ask about it or stare at them.

At least now Adar looked down at you and you lifted your eyes up to meet his gaze.

“Would you sacrifice me if it meant defeating Sauron?” You asked and gods only knew why because you truly did not want to know.

Adar cracked a sad smile and raised his free hand to caress your cheeks with his fingertips as he often did.

“I would find a way around,” he whispered.

“If there would be none,” you insisted.

“Then you know that I would have to,” he breathed out and you could see the pain and guilt in his eyes but his words felt like a punch.

You let go of his hand and moved away. That was also the moment when Elrond walked out of the tent in a hurry, calling for his friend to follow him. When they left, you walked out as well but you took the opposite turn to disappear inside the forest and go to your new favourite spot where the fallen tree was.

You sat on the grass with your back pressed to it as you took a deep breath in. And in that moment of weakness, you called out for Sauron once more with your mind and heart, risking him penetrating your soul and seeing your betrayal. But, as usual, he did not answer your call even though he was so close.

You had admitted to Galadriel that you loved your husband and on the same day he had said such a thing? Perhaps you still were a naive fool like you had been with Sauron.

But could you really be angry at him for answering that when you were the one deceiving him?

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by Adar himself who had followed you. He sighed at the sight of you and you wiped your tears quickly, hating to be seen crying for such a reason.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he admitted and offered you his hand to help you stand up but you ignored him, looking away. Adar rolled his eyes slightly and crouched down to be able to face you while he forced you to look back at him by grabbing your chin. “What does it matter to you anyway?” He asked. “Do you truly care about what I feel towards you?”

“Of course I do,” your eyes widened at his words. “You are all I have, Adar. You made sure of that, killing my father, turning my mother against me and destroying my home,” you reminded him.

“And how can you care after all of that?” He wondered out loud with a puzzled expression.

“You just cannot believe I could ever love you because you think of yourself as unworthy of it but what you believe does not mean nor can change anything,” you confessed, a little nervously.

He froze at your words and took his hand away from you as if you were made of fire. You kept looking at his face and crying silent tears – humiliation after confessing your feelings, guilt for being Sauron’s lover and pity for all the suffering the man in front of you had been through; all mixed together.

“I am a spirit much darker than you think, husband. It is me who is unworthy of you,” you dared to reveal.

“Do not speak such absurdities!” He got angry a little and looked away. After calming down, he laid his eyes back on your face and hesitated for a moment.

He opened his mouth to say something but the words were apparently too heavy to say them out loud and you understood that. But he did not leave you without any reply, however. His hands cupped your cheeks delicately and he leaned in to join your lips together in a kiss so soft and loving like none of your kisses that had ever been shared before.

With trembling hands, you cupped his scarred face, too, and deepened the kiss as more and more tears streamed down your cheeks.

And then… a glimpse. An odd tug at your heart, a short vision of Lord Celebrimbor’s forge, a flickering feeling causing shivers go down your body. Sauron had answered your call with delay and had made an attempt to reach you but what he had seen only caused him to retreat in a hurry and blind rage.

Adar sensed your sudden uneasiness and broke the kiss, moving away slightly to study your face carefully with his worried eyes.

“Are you quite alright, my love?” Adar asked you, addressing you in the Quenya language. Your heart clenched inside your chest at those words while you kept caressing his face with your thumbs.

“I will be after the battle,” you whispered. “Win it, so we can go home.”

MASTERLIST

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (2)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# Chapter 2 : Stupidity is The Key to Happiness. You were Plenty Stupid— Just Not Happy

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : click here for the masterlist

4370 words

. . . in which god has just currently decided that you're going to be his strongest soldier today and give you his toughest battles, and you can't do shit about it.

I mean, who else wouldn't freak out after finally seeing their ex again? Especially when you only find him and his party as corpses lying on the cold dungeon floor, lined up like meat in the produce section. All stiff and mildly damp.

FUCK, HE’S STILL SO HANDSOME—no, perhaps even more so now? You feel a bead of sweat form as you bite down on the inside of your cheek, staring at Kabru’s unconscious body sprawled on the cold, concrete floor. He was ominously peaceful, with his eyelids closed and his hair messed up as it pushed against the wall. It dragged your heart by its heartstrings, bringing in strange wave of nostalgia.

You recall the messy sheets, his cheek pressed up against your pillows— the curls in his hair handsomely framing his face.

It was as if a prince had just stumbled into your home and fallen into a deep slumber in your dingy bed.

A familiar warmth crept up on your cheeks, followed by a small smile you couldn’t hold back. However, you took a fist straight to the middle of your chest— leaving you winded as you tried to punch away the looming melancholy feeling creeping up.

You decide to look in a different direction and drive your attention away. If you could withstand not seeing him for years, you can surely do it again this time.

Your eyes scan the rest of the party, and you notice an unfamiliar figure among them. Your hands unwittingly clench down on your staff— the natural grooves of the wood digging into your skin, bound to leave a significant indent into the palms of your hands. The sensation rivaling the gruesome battle in your mind, grieving the person you were before finding out. The mere presence of the stranger left a bitter taste in your mouth, turning a switch in your mind as you fell into a dangerous spiral.

It's just like they say, fuck around and find out.

And you have, in fact— fucked around and found out.

It was like a jagged, serrated dagger twisting around in an old wound; like a thousand needles had just poked you like a bad acupuncture therapy attempt. Your mouth felt dry, and each muscle and bone felt like it held up the weight of the heavens and sky itself. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t even run no matter how much you yearned to do so.

You start to consider showing up at the door of the Touden siblings, begging the sister to exorcise the bad spirit that was probably haunting you— cursing you with horrible luck.

You had spent thousands of nights tangled in the sticky spider web of your fears and doubts. About 1826 nights, to be exact (Maybe? You’re not sure). The thoughts of the future had been eagerly gnawing at your sanity, flooding your worrying mind with questions like:

‘Is he thinking of me right now? Does he even think about me anymore?’

‘Is he living a happier life without me?’

‘Has he replaced me already?’

It was that last question.

That stupid question that haunted your mind at least 5 times a day.

You already knew what the answer would probably be. You were completely and utterly convinced that it would be a breeze to handle if you were to find out and that you had moved on. which was the biggest and most delusional lie you had ever told yourself. But you don’t like to dwell on that thought much.

Being stupid was probably one of the keys to happiness, and you were plenty stupid— just not happy.

But God, no amount of dread and nail-biting anxiety could ever prepare you for the actual answer. The painful reality that just slaps you in the face stabs you at least 30 times in each of your vital organs— and completely shatters every bit of your almost non-existent hope.

It’s quite a reach, especially when the girl is literally lying unconscious on the floor unable to even move a finger. But she might as well have killed you at this point just doing absolutely nothing, with the amount of pain she’s putting you through— purely just due to her existence.

It was as if Thor had just thrown his hammer at you, digging into your toes with little to no hope of escape. No amount of desperate tugging could set you free. Who the hell even is Thor? You question, you shrug it off.

‘Ways to Get Back with Kabru—Idea number 25: Run back and work as their mage again if they still have a vacant spot… I better cross that out later.’

Maybe most questions should be left unanswered, you should’ve turned back 15 minutes ago. You should’ve run back up to the surface and continued to live your life in ignorant bliss. The naïve past seemed much kinder than the truth of the future.

There was a hazy, strange sense of satisfaction that hung over your heart. However, the painful drilling sensation in your stomach seemed to drown it out— the rising feeling of dread and regret filling like a thick liquid in your lungs that you can’t cough out.

With deliberate steps, you approach the unknown body, lowering yourself to kneel beside the new individual. She was beautiful, as much as you hated to admit it. You quickly tugged at your hair, pushing it out of the way of your eyes. Maybe to see better, maybe out of pure insecurity.

Your lips press into a thin line. She had slick, luscious black hair— you even start to consider asking her for her hair care routine after (which was stupid of you to think, so you flick that thought to the back of your mind.) Her sleek figure was complimented by her simple medium-length frayed red dress. Her facial structure made you guess that she came from the east, and her lack of other special features— she’s also a tall man.

You pout, squeezing your eyes tight as you feel the tight rope of jealousy tugging at your neck. Maybe, it would’ve been much easier to skim over the existence of your replacement if she hadn’t been so beautiful. Maybe if her face was full of warts, or maybe if she was a toad that you had picked up from the well in your house— the blow would’ve been less impactful.

Scratch that. The frogs that resided in the well were incredibly cute. But would Kabru know that she turned into a frog? You began to backtrack on that thought, fighting against the itch in your hand to start flipping through your grimoire to find a spell to turn people into frogs.

It had instructions on how to use a dog to harvest a singular mandrake, so why the hell wouldn’t it have a spell on turning people into frogs?

But then, you dwelled on the thought of the curse being able to be lifted by a kiss. The image of Kabru kissing a frog, in a complete fairytale-esque love story scene— it was enough for you to abandon the idea again.

He would be the type to do such a thing, even if he hated every minute of it.

He would probably even eat monsters out of pure righteousness and pushover people-pleaser politeness if someone asked him to—at least just a bite.

…

Maybe you should start putting those fairytale books down or donate them to the local village library, it would fix your problem of outrageous delusions.

So instead of planning your path to evil, you began wishing and praying to whatever god is currently listening to you— if there even is any.

‘Please, please, please. God, or… whoever is out there. I’d even accept it if the Mad Mage is the one tuning in. Please erase this girl from existence.’ You begged, but you felt a pang of guilt crash into your heart. You peek with one eye, staring at her peaceful face once again— You squeeze your eyes shut once more and re-clasped your hands together to reset your prayer. If that even works, it probably doesn’t…

‘Actually, disregard that… That was rude. Kind of. She probably doesn’t deserve it… Just please, don’t have any personal relationship with Kabru.’ You mutter under your breath, feeling a bit of the weight come off your shoulders. It was as if you had shooed away the annoying spirit haunting you with bad luck, or at least you had hoped you did.

Your hands pushed against your bent knees, assisting you as you stood back up. Which drives you into yet another dilemma. With the amount of writing and overthinking you had just done, you had completely forgotten that they were all lying dead on the floor.

You sulk by the wall, feeling the rocky surface leaving indents on your forehead. You curse at the wind. You were not God’s strongest soldier; he should not be giving you the toughest battles. You sigh, whittling down your options into 3.

You walk away from this place and run back to the surface. Possibly seek therapy and hit your head just enough times to forget whatever you had just discovered in this dungeon. Quit dungeon exploring to completely cut off all possibilities of ever encountering Kabru and his party ever again. Get a normal job and live your life in ignorant bliss.

2. You continue onwards but be sure to bless their corpses to ensure their safety until they get retrieved by the corpse revival company— or possibly scammed by that other resurrection company. Or maybe even saved by some other random guy somewhere, who knows? Leave strands of your hair around their wrists and spray your signature scent around them; fully aware that Kuro could sniff you out in mere seconds (which was the plan.) It leaves them knowing you were there but gives them the edge that you didn’t bother to help them, even though they know that you’re fully capable of doing so.

3. Be an idiot, who out of goodwill and righteousness— revives the party and allows you to make yourself known as the unfortunate victim and hero who had stumbled across them. This gives room to analyze and dissect the relationship between the new girl and Kabru, and even a chance to converse and interact with your old party. This may urge Kabru to be aware of your existence if he has already forgotten (you hope not). Make him bow down on his knees, head touching the floor as he begs you to join him and his party again.

And of course, you chose to be an idiot.

You had already made so many bad decisions for fate to put you in this position, so why don’t you push it to its limits? Plus, you had already been doing this whole revival business to earn gold by farming corpses of fallen adventurers within the higher levels. You don’t scam them at least.

You need to think this over first. You can’t revive everyone at once, even if you wish you did at this moment. You tuck your chin in between your index finger and thumb, carefully planning out how you can carry this out with a high success rate and a low rate of embarrassing yourself in front of your ex.

You couldn’t possibly revive Kabru first, since you’d have to swallow down the thick tension that forms in the air while he stares at you reviving the rest of his party. It would leave too much room for conversation (if there was any), and too little room for your swift escape. So, he’s reserved for last place for now.

The new girl… You should sandwich her in the middle. It’s best to revive someone you know first, so they don’t end up freaking out at your random appearance. But you can’t squeeze her right before Kabru, it’ll probably spawn some weird first impressions between the two of you. You’ll put someone else in between him and her, so she can just get the gist that you were just trying to help.

Holm should be first. He’s the calmer one of the party and is a lot closer to you than the rest of the party. It would be a bit weird seeing an old friend that suddenly ran out of your life and having them be the first thing you see after waking up… You have to clear that up with him if Kabru hadn’t already told him about what happened between the two of you. He would also probably help you with reviving, which will help you cut down on the time.

Mickbell will be revived right after, giving you a chance to calm him down before proceeding with the girl— who will probably ostracize you on the spot if he suddenly bursts into tears, or just makes a scene. Kuro… will be right after Mickbell, which will help you in the cause of calming him down.

Daya will be the unfortunate shield? Cushioning? Between Kabru and the girl. You were somewhat close to her, so she would probably understand your cause right away. She’s an innocent soul.

‘If he asks… I’ll just say I do it as a form of work.’ You whisper, kneeling towards Holm. You analyze his body, keeping a sharp eye out for any major injuries. You pick up his arm gently, holding it up in the air before letting it go— It falls limp.

‘He’s out cold…’ Your eyebrows furrow, making eager work of brushing off any bit of dust or debris off him. None of them seemed to have any weak soul bonds or missing limbs.

Your hand meets his chest, lying directly on top of his heart as you begin your ritual. You feel your mana coursing through your veins, like a cold shot of flowing water. Your fingertips felt a gentle tingle, like pins pricking them— enough to poke through the skin but not enough to draw blood.

Warmth spread through his body, feeling your heartbeat synch with his as it began to beat at a steady pace. Holm’s body staggers, as blood rushes through— his muscles moving on their own, just from pure muscle memory. As you felt his body heat return to normal healthy temperatures, your fingers eagerly swiped against his forehead. Your index finger is digging and pressing into the skin between his two eyebrows.

He woke up with a start, eyes wide and chest heaving. If he wasn’t already freaked out by his sudden consciousness, he was even more freaked out by your appearance. His jaw drops, gaze wavering as he looks at you as if you had just come back from the dead (even if he was the one that just did.)

You stare back at him, oblivious and aloof of the internal battles he is currently fighting in his mind. His mouth sputters, eager to voice out his mind— however, it lacks the voice, and the proper mind and muscle articulation.

“Are you okay?” you question, your tone drawn out and unsure. Your mind was currently reeling, as you slowly began to be filled with regret. Would he mind if you just ran away right now? You’re hesitant to engage in conversation with him, fully convinced that he is seconds away from lashing out at you.

”Y/N ? ? “ He shouted, his voice echoing around the entirety of the hollow dungeon floor. He slaps a hand over his mouth, coughing as he regains his composure. A feint pink dusted over his cheeks, embarrassed by his sudden outburst. You flinch slightly, squeezing your eyes for a second so you could brace yourself for whatever he was about to say.

Holm backtracks for a moment, leaning in towards you in a state of curiosity.

“Y/N .. ?” He whispered, questioning your existence. His voice filled with disbelief and wonder, secretly pinching himself as he pondered if this was a dream or not.

“It’s me.” You smile, a sense of warm familiarity filling your heart as you stare back at him. A quick rush of joy and excitement drowning out your worries, as you meet up with your old friend. You spread your arms out slightly, and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a tight embrace. It finally brought back that sense of belongingness as you reconnect together as friends, one that you had forgotten the feeling of.

You have grown accustomed to the fast pace of your life, meeting and seeing faces but never finding them again. Your fear of attachment only grew as a sense of loneliness was chained to your foot like a weight of punishment. You pass by thousands of faces, thousands of people who carry their heavy burdens and stories— Yet, you still live life alone.

“I thought I’d never see you again” He sighed, patting your back as he pulled away. You could read him like an open book, he was a simple person. You could feel a sudden rush of relief flow through him, as his worrying mind cleared within seconds. However, your sudden gleeful moment was interrupted when he suddenly punched you straight in the gut.

“Ack— !” He’s not much of a fighter, so it was weak— since he was mostly kidding. But he did go for a sensitive area, so you hunch over in pain.

“You’re such a dummy you know. You left without a word, and I haven’t seen you in five years. Five years! That’s half a decade!” He grumbled, judgmental as always. You rub the area he punched to soothe the pain, as you laugh dryly. However, his expression softens at the sight of you.

“I know… Hasn’t Kabru told you why?” You tilt your head, fixing up your posture. At this point, you’re on a self-sabotage spree. You should’ve probably kept that question unsaid, knowing that you’re just leading yourself into a whole new world of hurt by finding answers to questions that should be left unanswered.

“No… He only showed us your resignation paper, then never spoke of you ever again.” Holm pouted, rubbing down the back of his neck.

He never told them.

He never spoke of you again.

You were seconds away from curling up, falling to the floor, and dying right then and there. You had to hold back every cell in your body from begging Holm to bring out his undine and put you out of your sad, sad misery.

Your expression remained blank; your lips pursed as you tried to keep yourself from spiraling again. You practice a couple of breathing exercises, digging the nails of your fingers into the palm of your hand. It’s possibly not too late to turn back, Holm could probably handle all the resurrecting.

“Right… How did the rest of the party take it?” Your voice is drawn out, deciding to rip off yet another bandage off the wound. If the party didn’t react nicely to the news, you’d probably get chewed out immediately— just to confirm whether or not you should continue with your plan or run away.

“… Not that well. We basically stopped adventuring for a week straight, since Kabru completely locked himself up ever since then. We all kind of freaked out a bit, though— Kabru seemed to have sucked it up and gathered all of us up again to go mage hunting to complete our party. Mickbell was against replacing you and was somewhat insistent on dragging you back. But Kabru stopped him, he wasn’t mad per se— Just scary looking.”

Okay, you need to stop asking questions that could lead back to Kabru— noted.

“Anyways, what happened to you guys?” You changed the topic, gaze averting towards the huge body of water in the middle of the dungeon. You had noticed that their clothes were slightly damp, but you didn’t necessarily question it.

”As far as I remember, we got attacked by a bunch of violent mermen. Which is weird, given that it isn’t common for them to be near the surface of the water… It’s usually just bladefish.” He mumbled, deep in thought as he stared at the eerily now calm waters.

“Right… Would you be okay with helping me revive everyone? You can take..., the new girl and Kuro. I’ll take on Mickbell, Daya, and… Kabru.” You stared at him with pleading eyes, offering to take on the odd number of corpses— Just so you don’t drain him of his mana too fast since he had just recently come back to life.

“Oh… The new girl. Her name is Rin by the way, she’s a bit blunt and standoffish when it comes to new people. So don’t feel too offended when she criticizes you…” Holm smiles sheepishly, though agreeing to take on your offer. You spring up into a stand immediately, offering a hand towards him— which he eagerly accepts.

You both make your way to your respective assigned corpses— Though the speed at which you both were doing it made you feel more and more dread as time passed. Your mind was blurring together the current happenings, not truly processing the moment.

Mickbell wasted no time in shouting, punching your legs as if any form of violence would undo your long period of absence. You didn’t take any significant notes on what he said, as his actions only translated into an irritated cat that was begging for more food.

However, you ran your fingers through his hair— which ultimately silenced his aggressive yammering. You pat his head gently, just like you always would back then. His expression mellowed out, hugging your leg as he cursed your name in the wind. He doesn’t like being treated like a kid, but he lets you just this once.

He lets go of you (reluctantly), after realizing that everyone else was knocked unconscious. He stands off to the side, stretching out his limbs and doing a quick inventory check— just to steer clear out of your way.

Rin had been revived shortly after Mickbell was, which rendered her completely and utterly confused at your foreign appearance. As well as Mickbell’s sudden affectionate behavior and outburst. She stares back at Holm, slightly bewildered at the sight— the look on her face begging him for any sort of explanation.

Holm only explains your presence briefly, mentioning your closeness and familiar bond with the party. He doesn’t bother explaining your relationship with Kabru, saving you from any sort of random rivalry with her. Rin only hums in response, the gears in her mind turning as she analyzes you from afar.

She played with her hair, twirling it around as she stared. Completely oblivious of your brain-shattering nervousness as you realized she was awake.

You felt the need to flex or one-up her. You wanted to show her your sheer amount of power and give her an excellent first impression.

Was it to impress her? Was it to make her feel envy and Jealousy? You don’t know, probably both.

You’re still not sure about making her a friend or an enemy. So you decide to lean more into the friend category.

However, all thoughts of her quickly dissipated as your gaze met Kabru’s body on the floor. You tense up, realizing that there’s unfortunately no more escape from your demise. You try to cough up the thick sense of nervousness from your throat, as an insatiable itch begins to dance all over the inside of your body.

There was a sick sense of familiarity as you kneeled and placed a hesitant hand onto his chest. You felt a wave of nausea override all of your rational thoughts, as the palm of your hand seemed to fit that one area of his chest like a puzzle piece. Your expression turns soft, while your body stiffens, and you find it difficult to move. It left a sickly bitter taste in your mouth.

Being close to him like this, didn’t fill your heart with the same glee as you had fantasized. Instead, seeing him again made you feel immense amounts of dread— a seething anger igniting a long rope tied to a bomb of anger. As much as you had idolized him throughout the years, finally seeing him again made the coin flip over on the dirty side.

The reality settled in like getting hit by a car, the adrenaline carrying through before you crash. His face only made you feel pure unbridled rage, how dare he live his life and fall into a slumber as peaceful as this— when you spent thousands of sleepless nights all because of him.

You had never wished for a viler amount of karma towards anyone until now.

Your hand pushed down with more force than necessary, forcing out the mana flow as you healed him with pure negative thoughts buzzing around in your head. You felt yourself seeing red, as you felt his heart begin to beat to a steady rhythm.

That same soft and slow beat that would lull you to sleep each night. Once you had even promised him that there was no other music that even the greatest musician could compose— would compare to the sound of his beating heart.

You bite your tongue back from cursing his name out, taking a deep breath to brush off the suddenly blinding anger. ‘I need to give off a good impression.’ You mumble, relaxing your muscles and the scowl on your face.

Your hands hesitate to meet with his forehead, your touch fleeting as you push against the pressure point in his forehead. Your fingertips lightly intercepted with his hair— which made you confused on whether you wanted to run your fingers through it again or bash his face into the ground. Maybe both.

Your hand quickly leaves his face, eyes unwavering of its stare.

Usually, you would kiss his forehead instead of using the pressure point method. You blink away the unwarranted memory, watching as he stirs awake. You remain seated by his side, making sure to be there if ever he has any side effects that would come with his resurrection.

Kabru groans, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. However, he seemed to have woken up immediately as he recognized your scent. His eyes shot open, as his head snapped to turn towards you— which did not fail to scare you. As you suddenly lean backwards, completely flabbergasted by his current expression.

Kabru mumbles your name under his breath.

Oh fuck.