#as far as rankings go it's still too soon

[vigilskeep]

Hey Harker, if I can pick your brain quickly please, what are your thoughts on a crow rook who is older than viago?

okayyy fun. here are some Thoughts

they seem to have opted to specifically state rook de riva is young because it makes the dynamic make sense. so you have to come up with reasons why it does still makes sense if rook is older. why is he the head of house and you’re the backing guy? why does he feel comfortable scolding you for your impulsiveness? why aren’t you in on big plans like the one you interrupted by killing that antaam patrol? especially when rook has to be capable of leadership considering, you know, the plot.

the easiest answer for why he’s the one in charge is that he’s the one with the ambition, and also that his noble birth makes him an easier sell. he’s going to have weird insecurities about the latter if it’s very relevant because it’s something he generally has weird insecurities about

i think it would be fun for rook, who is easy to characterise as an impulsive funnyman and who viago is definitely constantly frustrated with, to be a kind of lazy drunk uncle archetype (gender neutral). viago knows what you’re capable of, maybe you even trained him when he was younger and he still has this big (and accurate!) idea of what you can do, but as far as you’re concerned, he asked for all the responsibilities and now they’re his. with a talon in power who not-that-deep-down likes you too much to do anything about it, your job was just to drink wine, tell embarrassing stories to the rank and file that make them less scared of him, and kill only when you felt like it. until you pushed that a bit too far...

that’s one take. or maybe you’re an advisor, a kind of conniving grandmother archetype (gender neutral) to match caterina a little. you don’t want to hold power because you belong in the shadows with the gentle touch of an advisor. here, viago’s frustration is that he feels you’re always his worst critic, but when do you ever get the job done yourself? you let other people slide, a softer presence that never lets viago’s harshness push allies too far away. you never let him get away with a single mistake, just as precise and demanding as when he was a child learning. but how could you, when if a talon slips, he dies?

a more specific concept for anyone’s usage: it would be a lot of fun if you were a member of his predecessor’s family, an “actual” de riva the way lucanis is an “actual” dellamorte. i was working on something like this for a more typical rook, but there’s a version where you’re the previous generation who never wanted the job so you handed it off as soon as possible to the ambitious little freak who does. maybe keeping you out of a big plan with the other talons was an attempt to prove to them once and for all that he stands on his own two feet

in any case, it would break my heart a little to have raised viago or been his older sibling figure when he was so closed-off and paranoid in tevinter nights that he never let anyone touch him. teia having relaxed some of that— he wears fingerless gloves in the game—would mean a great deal

[tetrakys]

Hi Tetra ❤️, have you played New Gen ? What do you think of Jason ? Does he meet the expectations you had of him ?. For my part I say yes, I knew he would be a character who always provokes 😂🙊. Definitely a little irritating, but still makes you say “why aren’t we in bed together already?” 😂😂

What do I think of Jason?? 😩😩💕 He's everything I wanted and more! Of course he has only appeared for one episode but I'm already in love... that tie grab!! 🥵🥵 pleaseeee and yeah I've seen some people say that he acts immaturely but he looks very hot while doing so 🥰🥰 no really I don't care. Obviously, the villain is always a bit cartoonish if we aren't in a life-or-death situation, but this is My Candy Love, I can't expect anything really dark, so I'm fine with it. I wanted banter and domineering attitude and that's exactly what it seems we're getting so I'm more than happy 💕❤️

Yes I'm prepared to do anything to succeed at jumping into your bed..

[tame-the-lion-writes]

alpha!slasher!königx omega!reader

CW: implied murder, (and in bonus thoughts) implied kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Damn pheromones.

If it weren't for petty social sensibilities, König would be clamping a hand over his nose to stifle the thoughts--and scents--running through his mind. In the past, it wasn't so bad. Alphas like him were drawn but could otherwise stand their existence(--at least until the addicting whiff of a heat). But omegas smelled so artificial these days; sickly sweet, like candy, or even worse--chemicals. Perfumes made to amplify the already-overwhelming smell of sugar. More like cough medicine hacked down with two bottles of water. And even a spoonful was far too much.

But the woman across the table seemed to flaunt that.

Silly thing--he thought. Pretty, by all standards, as omegas often were, but silly. Sure, he'd agreed to court her and bring her to a high class restaurant, just as his salary and rank could provide, but that cherry red smile on her lips seemed as plastic-ridden as the patch on her neck. Artificial enhancers. As he's learned in the past three and a half decades of being mate-less, it had become a staple.

No matter, though.

He'd get rid of the scent soon enough.

His date is going on and on about some topic he doesn't care about. Maybe commenting on the scars cutting through his face (though she doesn't seem to mind). Cherry red lips parting and teeth shining, but he doesn't hear a word. There's a gag waiting for her at the back of his car, anyway--and scent blockers ready to be forced down her throat. Did the police ever think about that, he wonders?--how scent blockers made it so easy to disappear without a trace? Stupid creatures hadn't learned to investigate without relying on their nose.

(And even if they had, he'd left no paper trails; he was a dead man walking, at least on paper, thanks to convenient career aspirations.)

But before he could reach on over, suggest an escape to elsewhere--(from life itself)--up came the sweet young thing holding a notepad in hand, apron around the waist, apologizing that the other waitress had clocked out for the evening, and that she was here to take over. And König's hand stops, hovering over the edge of the table, a light, unnoticeable tremble to it as he finally breathes in.

Subtle. Subtle.

Almonds. Cinnamon. Warm bread and butter.

He licks his lips subconsciously, tasting the warmth as he swallows.

König leaves the restaurant that night, still letting the other omega cling to his arm, but he returns a week later--(it's all he could wait)--alone because, "things just didn't work out." But of course, you take him at his word: he looks surprised to see you again, and squints as if to re-read your nametag. But really, he's learned your schedule, the make and model of your car. The license plate, registration number--the address of your apartment. (Of course he has--why wouldn't he?--) Not once have you left his mind. Because you're something new to him, new to occupy it--how strange; how precious.

-- And not too sweet.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

König continues to visit, and though you find it strange he goes alone--the restaurant is more popular with couples after all--you start to look forward to seeing him now and then. König's patient the first month or so, upping the frequency only little by little, because at first, he's convinced that seeing you from a distance every night is enough.

But patience only lasts so long.

He finally asks you out on a date, and you agree.

There's a few dates, really. (Can't have you disappearing from your friends' lives the moment you mention going out with him, after all.) A few dates before it happens.

You can't recall going to his house, or even his car. And you certainly don't recall getting into a bed that smells just like him (--cold metal, maybe iron, maybe from him--maybe from something else--)

You're about to unwind from the (admittedly warm and comfortable) bundle of sheets around you when König walks in, carrying a tray of freshly cooked food, and sets it down nearby. Before you can ask any questions, he's shoving his face into the crook of your neck. Brushing his nose against your scent gland--almost purring.

"K-König? Where am I? What are you doing--"

"Shh, Mäuschen. It's alright. You're home."

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[avephelis]

RISE TWITTER QNA! no major news or announcements, but here's a list of new information and confirmations:

S3 could be brought back as a retro show in the future, but it probably wouldn't happen anytime soon (focus is on mutant mayhem at the moment)

it was never decided whether capril would be friends or girlfriends (due to rise's focus on platonic relationships)

council of heads! they're in power, but a lot of influential yokai (like big mama) aren't easily controlled, and "game the system"

despite not having his dual katana, supposedly f!leo DOES still have mystic powers

ron corcillo would love to see a spin-off focused on the caseys (if rise were ever continued), and likes the potential of a raph + casey vigilante duo

the turtles got their names after splinter's love for renaissance art

big mama's henchman WAS planned to be the missing sister, and rather than venus de milo, she would've been named after a female artist (possibly frida kahlo)

for halloween: raph dressed up as a kitten, mikey as a lion, leo as a rockstar, and donnie as j. robert oppenheimer

the mystic weapons stolen from draxum acted as a conduit to help the boys unlock their innate mystic powers with a "little boost"

they didn't realise mayhem's potential as a character/force until too late, but it could've been fun to do some stories of him being an operative (a la perry the platypus)

there weren't any planned stories for side villains (aside from the foot's cupcake shop), most focus was on the turtles

not much on casey jr's backstory, just that cass and the turtles were fighting the krang and leo raised him as a warrior. casey jr only has brief memories of cass from when he was very young, and was mostly raised by leo

there were definitely six baby turtles (two sisters)! and the turtles were gonna split up to rescue the one with big mama and the one in "the dimension", but they never planned much of it out

there's most likely a time gap between the rescuing leo and the ending scene of the movie, as "after a fight like that, [everyone] would definitely crash and need some recovery time"

there would've been more big mama in future episodes, and stinkbomb was planned to return

since the turtles became known to the public at the end of the movie, they'd have to fight to retain their reputation. this and their reception to criticism/backlash would've become a major arc.

on brother rankings: mikey is definitely raph's favourite, and they all look up to raph

the stronger someone's ninpo is, the greater the drain on their energy is (as seen with f!mikey and karai)

there wouldn't be much threat on villains going after casey jr's future intel, because most of it would've been rendered obsolete

nickelodeon would never give up the rights to rise, but they could license it to a partner company (such as IDW for a comic!)

as previously mentioned, the 2nd sister would've been trapped in "another dimension" and venus/frida would have to be won over by "helping her see that she had been brainwashed [by big mama] as a child" (and redeemed)

given more time, the show would've fleshed out: the hamato story, the hidden city's origins (krang spaceship that crashed into the crying titan being the source of the ooze, its fuel being what gave the yokai mystic powers), and would've used the rat king (who ron corcillo would've liked to be a powerful yokai with rat-like abilities and some form of mind control, who could've threatened the council of heads for power in the hidden city)

as far as we know, the turtles (aside from leo's spanish) only speak english (and even their english is sometimes a bit off)

rise probably wouldn't have ever "gone dark", but after the turtles were publicly known and full-time heroes, it might've had more of an extended plotline

the turtle's casual clothes somewhat reflect their music tastes (r&b for raph, glam rock for leo, techno (and 80s) for donnie and boy band for mikey)

future heights: mikey grew a bit and then shrunk under mystic strain, leo was at least 6ft, donnie a little taller than leo, and raph at least 6'6

mikey's powers could get pretty intense, which could've resulted in some multiverse episodes (ron corcillo would be most inclined to do a 12 crossover, but any could work). while leo portals short distances, mikey's cross space and time (with great effort)

given more time, how the turtles met april would've been fleshed out

in terms of how they take after splinter: donnie and leo have a lot of his cockiness, raph his courage and sense of duty, and mikey senses him missing his family (which is part of the reason of why he tries to hold everyone together)

given more time they would've done more with the transfer of leadership from raph to leo (and originally the plan was to draw that out over S3, rather than the abrupt S2 ending). they would've been co-leaders for a while, and at times mikey or donnie would lead (they aren't really a group with just one leader archetype)

there were plans for april to have more time with the specific turtles other than donnie (like how the gumbus was focused on her mikey and leo)

the cast's mystic abilities would've increased over time, and splinter has a lot of power that hasn't been revealed (as he spent a lot of time in the hidden city in his past)

venus/frida would've been very disciplined and so serious that's she's funny, and the dimension sister would've been "a little kooky"

there weren't really any plans on how the turtles would look in cloaked human forms, just that they'd resemble lou jitsu and may be inspired by their VAs

mikey is the only brother who can fully pull all his limbs and head into his shell (being a box turtle)

any usagi appearances would be a rights matter, and depend on collaboration

on timelines: april is 16 at the start of the series and 18 in the movie, but exactly how much time passes isn't confirmed

ron corcillo would've liked to do more donnie + raph episodes, like one where despite how donnie considers himself smarter, raph ends up beating him in common sense and emotional intelligence

f!leo didn't go with casey jr to the past due to being mortally wounded in his bleeding side

given more time there would've been more flashback episodes with the turtles at various ages

though he'd never admit it, hueso has a close relationship with leo

in early S3 there would've been an episode of setting up the new lair

mystic warrior f!mikey is pretty old (maybe in his 70s), and is strong enough to use basically any mystic power, but at great cost to him physically

no major plans with bishop, but once the turtles became more well-known he could be a bit of a thorn in their sides (like j. jonah jameson to spiderman)

there might've been some redemption from big mama, but also some relapses into her "villainous ways"

given a full season, karai would've been alive for longer, and would've trained the boys for a number of episodes

confirmation that some of early s1 aired in the wrong order (which the writers weren't happy about)

in rise, there's always an unpredictability as to how sentient a mutant will turn out to be

raph probably wouldn't be super uptight about swearing, provided the boys weren't offending anyone

there weren't any plans for romantic relationships (and DEFINITELY never an april-turtles love interest), but if they had ever tried something eventually it would've been with the same species

there were no specific plans for alopex, rita, or rennet, but anything's a possibility

in terms of the 1000 years ago krang/mystic timeline, the spaceship crashed first (possibly spawning the yokai), and other krang followed it, drawing in the invasion

that seems to be about it but if there's any more i'll do a reblog with additions

[linopls]

kinktober day seventeen

threesome 3racha x fem!reader warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v, so much praise, overstimulation 1.5k words

“god, you’re so pretty, y/n.”

“you’re so good for us.”

“baby, you’re doing so well.”

the praises kept pouring from their mouths. you could barely make out whose voice belonged to who. the only factual information you knew was that you were propped up against chan, your back against his front, and he had one of his muscular arms wrapped around your middle and his beautiful painted fingers were toying with your clit.

you knew jisung was lying on his stomach in front of you, tongue lapping at your hole like a starved man. his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, preventing your hips from moving. every so often he would part from your core to leave small hickeys on your inner thighs.

you knew changbin was to your right, his lips attached to your neck and upper chest. you would moan every time his teeth would sink into your skin and you knew that for the next week you would have to wear turtlenecks. you could also see, vaguely and from the corner of your eye, changbin palming himself through his basketball shorts.

“still okay?” chan whispers into your left ear.

you nod. you were more than okay. when your loving boyfriend chan invited you over today, explicitly stating that hyunjin was out of the dorm, you knew the events that would be going down and you could hardly focus on the road on the drive over. 

you had fooled around with jisung and changbin before, a year or two ago, prior to your relationship with chan. last week chan asked which of the three of them was best in bed and you replied:

“it’s been too long to even remember. my rankings would be biased and inaccurate.”

to which chan replied:

“let’s refresh your memory soon then.”

so now your current job is to be taking mental notes and presenting with a ranking when the event has finished. but you could hardly remember your own name, let alone who is favorable in bed. you would be astonished if you were fucked so stupid that you could remember the order in which they did you. 

“good.” you can hear the cheesy smile in chan’s voice. “binnie, do you want to go first, since you were first in y/n.”

changbin erupts into laughter and even jisung chuckles into your pussy, the vibrations making you moan.

“of course,” changbin smiles, lifting his neck from the crook of your neck and placing one sweet kiss to your lips. 

“jisung, move,” chan snaps, trying to pry jisung’s head away from your cunt with his free hand. 

jisung looks up from your pussy panting. his eyes glossy and filled with lust, a look you haven’t seen in a year. he takes one more lick, from your dripping hole to just where chan’s fingers meet your clit.

“i’m sorry,” he says, out of breath. “she just tastes so good.”

“we know,” changbin and chan say in unison. 

“you’re next, ji” chan says.

“yeah, it’s my turn,” changbin giggles, almost lifting up jisung and moving him to your left side. 

changbin balances himself on his knees between your legs, his muscular thighs parting your legs so easily. he pulls his shorts down just far enough to free his cock from the restraints. the sight makes your mouth water. the sinful acts you will be indulging in with one of your past flings, while your boyfriend holds you so close makes your brain go numb.

“are you ready, baby?” changbin asks as presses his tip against your entrance. chan uses the two fingers that were circling your clit to spread your lips for changbin.

“mhm,” you nod. 

changbin very slowly pushes himself inside you. you had forgotten how thick his cock was. he was shorter than chan, but much thicker. the stretch burns as causes tears to form in your eyes but its also incredibly pleasurable and your hips move up to meet his.

when changbin bottoms out, chan moves his hand up to your mouth and you eagerly take them in your mouth. you pan your eyes over to jisung, whose mouth is slightly agape as he’s knelt next to you. he’s gently palming himself through his sweats. 

as chan’s fingers explore your mouth, you gaze back and forth between the two boys in front of you. chan removes his fingers and moves them back down to your clit, pinching the bud a couple times before returning to rubbing circles and figure eights. 

changbin begins to move his hips faster, he wraps his hands under your thighs and gently pushes back on them. the new angle has you seeing stars and reaching your high embarrassingly quick.

“binnie, please!” you cry. “gonna cum. keep going.”

“you’re doing so well, love,” chan whispers into your ear, his voice sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“fuck,” changbin groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

you take hold of chan’s forearm with one of your hands and dig your nails into his skin. you reach your other hand out to one of jisung’s thighs, gripping the fabric of his sweats, trying to ground yourself as changbin brings you over the edge.

“cumming!” you whine, back fully arching off of chan’s front and your head laying back on his shoulder. your hold on his forearm is probably strong enough to draw blood and rip the fabric of jisung’s sweats. 

“that’s it, pretty girl,” chan coos.

changbin is quick to finish as well, spilling his seed inside of you. chan continues to rub circles on your clit, overstimulating you, until you're begging for a break.

changbin slides out and jisung is quick to replace him. looking for your approving nod before pushing himself inside you. the squelching noises of your own arousal and changbin’s release sounds so errotic, you feel as though you could cum from the sound alone. 

jisung grabs hold of your hips to balance himself and begins to move. jisung isn’t as thick as changbin, but he’s slightly longer, reaching spots that changbin couldn’t reach. you wiggle your hips down to try and feel more of him.

“my god,” jisung groans, quickening his pace. changbin’s cum acting as a lube, making it easy for jisung to drill into you.

“so pretty,” chan chuckles, moving his fingers back down to rub your clit again. the feeling of oversensitivity makes you squirm in their grasps.

changbin uses one of his hands to press down on your lower stomach, in part to hold down your squirming body but to also help apply more pressure. you whine at the feeling of a second orgasm quickly forming.

“feel good, baby?” changbin asks, moving his thumb back and forth over your stomach.

you nod profusely. cries and moans pouring from your mouth, begging jisung to let you release all over him.

“let go, baby,” jisung moans. “please cum for me.”

your release is one of the most intense ones you’ve had in a while. your vision going hazy and your hearing cutting out for a second. when you come back to your senses, your legs shaking. chan is no longer behind you, but on his knees over top of you.

jisung is still to your left, but holding a bottle of water.

“you okay, baby doll?” he asks, helping you sit up and place the water bottle to your lips.

you nod and chan slides his hands gently up and down your thighs.

“you did amazing for us, love,” chan says softly.

“so, so, so good.” one of changbin’s hands come up to rub your back.

“do you think you can do one more? for me?” chan asks, gently spreading your legs by your knees. 

you nod and the two other boys help you lay flat against the bed as chan lines himself up with your entrance. his slow push inside of you burns, he’s about as thick as changbin but with the same length as jisung. he hits all of the spots you didn’t even know you had. the slide in is easy, prepped by the two boys before him. 

jisung and changbin lay on either side of you and pressed soft and gentle kisses to your face, neck, and chest. one of jisung’s hands slide down to your clit to rub small shapes on the overstimulated bud. you’ve lost all strength to move, but you moan and cry out as your handsome boyfriend begins his assault on your used pussy.

“that’s my pretty girl. always doing so good for me,” chan praises, his thick cock sliding smoothly against your walls.

“channie,” you cry.

“you can, baby,” he purrs, “i know you’re tired so whenever you want to.”

it’s like he can read your mind. he moves his hips a bit faster, not enough to ruin you for a third time, but just enough to make you feel like your on Cloud 9.

“cum with me, please,” you say with what strength you had left. 

“of course,” he says with a cheesy smile.

you close your eyes and let your third orgasm wash over you. you back arches up and both chan and jisung gently work you through it. changbin mumbles words of encouragement against your skin. 

the last thing you remember hearing before letting the exhaustion overtake your body was jisung asking:

“so who was the best?”

i'm a simp for 3racha don't talk to me

also if u saw this without pictures, no you didn't

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier 

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine @mal-lunar-28

[kizzer55555]

DPxDC: Jarro Adopts an Alien

Ok, so Danny has a space obsession and a protection obsession (I headcanon that as a halfa, Danny has two obsessions like all Halfas do which makes them unique to other ghosts.) and so while he can get his fill protecting people in Amity, he struggles with his space obsession. Sure, he can look up everything he can about space and the stars on the internet. He can stay up until 2 am looking at the stars (who needs sleep? He’s a ghost, he can go days, or even weeks without sleep if he wants, same with a lack of air or food.) but it’s just not enough. He craves to learn more, see more. Just as Dani gets that itch to travel, Danny wonders. What would it be like to see the stars up close? Are they really as hot as a dragons fire breath? Hotter!? Or maybe they are so hot they are cold. What does it look like to see plasma dancing across the surface, or touch the gasses of Jupiter? Does Pluto have ice caves like the far frozen? How many planets are actually out there? What about Mars. There’s a whole species living there with a language and culture Danny can’t even fathom! Oh what he wouldn’t give to talk with martian manhunter or Superman. 

And what’s stopping him from exploring this? He can fly. He doesn’t need air. He can go intangible if it gets too hot and he’s practically immune to the cold. He wants to touch a space rock! See if they are smooth because there is no wind or earth to rub against them and erode the surface. He wants to see what planets they come from. What minerals they might have. He wants to know if there are currents in space. All of these things are right there just above the atmosphere. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a quick peek. So he does. During a particularly bad day Danny flies as fast as he can until the earth’s gravity looses its effects. Until his hair is floating as of it’s in water even more than normal. Until he can feel when breathing no longer became a choice (still not necessary though). And it…was beautiful. To be surrounded by space. To see the earth like this. Pictures just didn’t do it Justice. He flew across the solar system and as he passed planets, he longed to fly through them. To search every crevice and learn their secrets. But he had a bigger prize in mind at the moment. The crown jewel of their universe. The closest star he could find. The sun. 

Danny was mesmerized. The plasma really did dance across the surface. Like a never ending performance of science and beauty. There were sparks that few in arcs. Danny flew down and played in them, making a game to see how many he could fly under. His ghost core purred in delight. His obsession had never been more satisfied. He spent hours out there. Just exploring what his solar system had to offer. So when he returned? He couldn’t just forget. Pictures and online science theories had nothing on the real thing. He wanted to explore some more. So he did. Every night he would go out and explore the cosmos. Flying from planet to planet. (Either the Martians were still around and Danny made friends with them, even learning their language, or he just looks at their ruins to learn as much as he can). And with both obsessions now being filled, Danny is more settled. More confident. And he can focus better. Everyone notices the change, even his teachers. They just think that he’s paying more attention to his education now. He’s even better during his ghost fights. 

But Danny can fly awfully fast. And he soaks up information even faster. Soon his trips take longer and longer as he flies further out. Sometimes he can barely make it back in time for school. And he can't go every night. Sometimes the ghosts won’t wait for daytime so he has to make sure the town will be safe in his absence. Although he’s been able to take more trips ever since Valerie joined the vigilante ranks. But still, he’s getting farther and farther from earth each night. Until one day he’s visited every planet, every star, every comet or debris in their solar system. Which would be fine. He could deal with that if that was all there was. But it wasn’t. Danny saw the stars just out of reach. He saw places the Milky Way was leaning towards. He saw just the barest hints of new solar systems with new planets and stars. And he knew of legends from lanterns that they had posted online. Heard tales from some scientists that have made better telescopes. And his core itches. It aches to know more. See more. Yet he can't go further. And this puts him in a sort of depression. Suddenly he’s back to his old self. Lagging behind. Distracted. Zoning out. Crashing into a few more buildings during ghost attacks. Yet he tries so hard to be satisfied with what he has. He can still fulfill his obsession…it’s just more like chewing on a granola bar rather than eating a decent meal. He’s almost becoming lethargic. 

So one day he goes to Frostbite to see if there’s anything he can do to lessen the effects. But the yeti just takes one look at him and gives him the infimap. And suddenly Danny is in a whole new universe in seconds. The planets are purple. The stars are blue. He’s pretty sure there are furry blob-like creatures living on one of those planets. And suddenly he gets that itch, but holding the infimap, he knows he had time, so he lets himself go. 

And for a while it’s good. great even. Since he can’t keep asking the yetis for the infimap, he goes over to Wulf to see if he’s up for an adventure. Most of the time he is and they go exploring the galaxies together. And then Wulf had the genius idea of teaching Danny how to make portals. It took a long time but soon, he could concentrate the surrounding ectoplasm enough to weaken it and pull. It took a while since Danny didn’t have ecto claws and would have to use his pure will. But this would allow him to follow his obsession anytime, anywhere. So it was only a matter of time. And once he figured it out? It was like something was unlocked. Danny had never before understood how Ellie could travel so much. But now he did. That feeling when you discover something new. When you add to your reservoir of knowledge. When the patterns in the universe just click. There is nothing Danny could compare it to. And to explore that whenever he wanted? It was so freeing. While Wulf sometimes still joined Danny’s adventures, Danny did most of his explorations by himself. 

He meets various planets and aliens. So many different cultures. He learns thousands of languages. Tries all kinds of foods (and it’s a good thing his ghost self has an iron stomach and he’s basically poison resistant.) even found a whole comet where blood blossoms grew. (Which he most definitely avoided). And wasn’t that fascinating? To find out they were from space. 

And then during his travels one day he met a space alien starfish. 

It was actually a funny story. A meteor shower was about to attack a planet of talking blue monkey creatures with 4 arms. Danny immediately started diverting them and was soon joined by some lantern corps (which his inner fanboy wanted to talk to so bad.). And a tiny starfish in a…Robin uniform? Oh and the starfish could apparently do martial arts which was interesting to watch him karate chop a meteor. He could also talk directly into Danny’s head which the halfa found more interesting. So they got to talking and apparently his name was Jarro. He seemed to be helping the lantern corps as a ‘proxy from earth’ to make better use of his skills. 

Danny would run into Jarro a few more times. Sometimes he was with Lanterns and sometimes he would just be exploring the galaxies. They started forming a pretty strong friendship and Danny would start seeking out the starfish alien to travel with him. He knew all kinds of space facts. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. When they explored, sometimes Jarro would just stick to part of Danny. Wrapped around his arm, his waist, sometimes just sticking to his back like a strange backpack. But they always had fun.

So Danny was happy. He could fulfill both obsessions and got a space pal. Everything was great!

Until the GIW caught him. 

It would probably be the worst day of his life.  There was an explosion in the lab. Something set up by them after they realized Danny frequented that place often. So they set a trap and blew it up. Thankfully, Jazz was at college during this but both his parents were home. When the explosion went off, Danny had tried putting a Barrier around them all. It took everything he had to maintain it. That’s how they found out he was phantom. Danny had a few moments where his parents said they accepted him but he couldn’t hold the barrier for long. His parents said that they loved him and then everything went green. He woke up in a lab, tired and injured. His only saving grace being that he remained in phantom form. And he was determined to remain so. 

Danny’s time at the GIW was a haze but eventually, he managed to escape. Bleeding, and tired, and still recovering from the burns in the explosion, Danny made a portal straight to Amity. Only when he got there, it was a ghost town. Streets were empty, buildings were boarded up. Even the Nasty Burger was deserted. As for his house, there was nothing but a crater left and some scattered debris. Danny looked everywhere but there was no one. No Jazz. No Sam. No Tucker. No one. and he was tired. And everything hurt, and he needed a friend. Someone he could trust. So in a daze he made a portal and tried to just project safe. Safe safe safe. Somewhere he knew he would be protected. And so Jarro got a surprise when his space buddy suddenly popped out of a green portal, bleeding green and clearly passed out. He didn't know what to do. He didn’t know how to help him. But Jarro knew someone who would. 

So with a speed never before seen from a tiny starfish, he flew to earth. Bringing his friend straight to his father. Because surely batman could help!

And with his appearance, the green blood, the knowledge of space facts. The lack of wanting to talk about where he came from (and the nightmares crying out for his parents). This is how the bats became convinced that Jarro brought them an injured alien. 

[kiame-sama]

You discussed humanfuckers in the monster au recently and listed several characters who would be among the humanfucker ranks but I was surprised not to see Rook and Rollo on that list. I would have thought they'd be on that list as I can totally see them reading human erotica and 'appreciating' pornographic art of humans , maybe not on Trottr but perhaps published romance/erotica novels and classical style art pieces, perhaps even antique ones from when humans were still around. Also if Malleus is an honorary humanfucker for his interest in THE (his) human rather than just humans overall, wouldn't that mean most of the cast could be considered honorary humanfuckers too, if not right now then soon?

First part here:

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, mention of adult content, by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content.

~~~~~~~~

Because Rollo and Rook are on their way into it quickly due to sparked interest, but they weren't obsessed over Humans before meeting The Human. Those listed prior were obsessed long before meeting a Human in the flesh.

Rollo, up until he actually meets The Last Human, sees it as demeaning the species as a whole to write such hedonistic trash. He wishes to emulate the Righteous Judge in any way he can and the Judge cherished Humans above everything, even his own life. Rollo sees it like someone is depicting his deities- who he devotes his life to work in the name of- as common whores. He could tell you everything on the written history of Humans and the Humans of Fleur City because he has devoted his own time to learning about Humans. He respects and honors the legacy of Humans in Twisted Wonderland.

His attitude switch towards suggestice works involving Humans is as abrupt and jarring as a flash of lightning when he finally meets the Human of Night Raven and suddenly he sees the appeal. He thought the depictions of Humans were beautiful whenever he saw them, but his more carnal interests only really hit him when he met one. Now he gets it. He will never admit to such vile thoughts, but he has far more than he would like.

Rollo is going to be in future chapters, don't worry.

~•§•~

Rook is awakening into that role and idea. He really only saw Humans from a history standpoint, an end note to file away under mythical tales and long gone creatures. Sure, Human things exist all around him, but he likes to observe beauty in the moment. Why weep over what is long lost when there are beauties to observe here and now?

The Human of Night Raven is certainly now a beauty he can behold and marvel at. He is understanding the appeal and he is becoming more interested in learning all he can about these Humans. He is frustrated there is so little agreed upon when it comes to Humans. Human remains are so contested they can't even classify Humans in any official species. The popular theory is they are closest to pigs, hence the belief Humans shouldn't eat pork often. He thinks that's stupid, where are the pig ears and tails? The Boar variants of Minotaurs were very well known.

He is just falling down the rabbit hole, don't you worry. We will get to Rook's interest soon enough.

~•§•~

Malleus is honorary compared to the others for a few reasons, first; he won't turn up his nose to such works- published works, he still is not fond of technology- but when he reads them, it is his Human he thinks of. Not all Humans or the idea of Humans. That one Human in particular that is part of his Hoard and belongs to him, that one right there. He mentally overwrites all details of the Human love interest in the piece with the details of his Human and replaces himself as the monster suitor. He often imagines his Human as a Dragon as well and the romance the two of you could share as Dragons.

Second; Humans and the truth of them are still as illusory to Malleus as the surface of the moon would be to a cow. According to Lilia, they all looked different and had varying skin tones and hair styles, even eye colors, some even had completely different instincts from others. His entire view of Humans as a whole is based on the idea that no Human is the same or even comparable.

[smellwell]

Please. I’ll be a good boy~

Price x male reader

TW: Smut, cheating

Price and M/N. Always seen together and never far from one another. It wasn’t like that at first though. No it was much different than it is now. It was always M/N chasing after his shadow, like a puppy following his master around.

Just how Price liked it.

M/N was handpicked by Laswell for the 141, his skills undeniably showed how eager he was to please. He needed to please so bad it hurt at times. His eyes showed it, like a puppy begging for a treat after doing a trick. Price used that to his advantage.M/N wasn’t stupid. He knew what was happening but he was pleasing someone so he didn’t care.

“Nice to meet you, captain Price. Pleasure to be here.” M/N said, trying to sound firm and not meek but failing. Price smiled and thought to himself.

“Perfect~”

As the months go by M/N is unable to keep that side of him hidden for long. Eager to please and satisfied but craving more when he does. Price watches with satisfaction as M/N tries to get a hint of praise. Going above and beyond on missions, doing his best and far past his best all in hopes of getting praises from the man he looks up too. And hopes he will one day be like. Price had always planned for it to be like this. And when it was time for reviews he put his plan in motion.

“M/N L/N. Rank: Sergeant” Price read aloud. Discreetly eyeing M/N as he spoke. Watching the younger male squirm.

“You seem nervous soldier.” Price pointed out.

“A-A bit, sir. Just eager to please is all.” M/N forces a chuckle

Price nods and reads the file some more. Making a point to scribble a few things down every now and then. Watching M/N squirm makes the bulge in his pants twitch ever so slightly. He adjusts himself before sitting the paper down.

“Come here.” He orders. M/N obliges with no hesitation. Now standing in front of Price. M/N glances down at the gold band resting on Prices finger. A ring he wears like a badge but is more than willing to ignore for the puppy in front of him.

“On your knees.” He orders M/N. Eager to please M/N listens. Forgetting all about the golden band on his captains finger. He no sits face to face with Prices twitching bulge. He gulps.

Price unbuckles his belt, keeping an eye on M/N’s expression. M/N licks his lips. Never taking his eyes off the captains hands, he swallows thickly. Price takes himself into his hand. Stroking himself to hardness. M/N never moves his eyes. Drooling and staring unblinkingly. Praying and hoping the captain will allow him to take him in his mouth. He whimpers out.

“Please.” Desperate to taste the man. He isn’t above begging. No… he’s far below it.

Price takes M/N hair into his fist, guiding his head to his hardness he forces M/N’s head down. No need to really. As soon as Price grabs his head M/N dives in. Swallowing around him and whimpering. Eager for praise from the one he admires he does his best. So eager to be a good boy for Price.

Suddenly, Prices phone rings. M/N doesn’t stop, to absorbed in finally getting to taste his captain he continues to swallow around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside even as Prices hand stills and he picks up his phone.

M/N is so absorbed he doesn’t catch the call. Only bits and pieces. From what he registers its Prices wife on the line. M/N sucks harder at the realization making Price let out a groan.

“Nothing, love. Bumped my hip is all” Price says to his wife as he thrusts deeper into M/Ns throat almost at his end. His wife’s concern pushes him closer.

He’s in his recruits throat, on the phone with his wife. The dirtiness of the situation making him cum. With a quiet groan he looks down at M/N. He gives him the words M/N has been craving. Pulling the phone from his ear he speaks.

“Good boy.”

[honeybeefae]

7 Minutes In Heaven (Bat Boys x Reader)

Summary// After a night of drinking and a confession that friends should not say to each other, you find yourself on the receiving end of your three best friend’s wicked desires to make sure you are taken care of.

(Hoooooly hell this was a LOT to write and it took me so long but I am so happy with how it came out. 16 pages, 5K words, and I really hope you guys like this. This is obviously just pure smut but we all know that’s why you’re here. ;) Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Foursome, Double penetration, Spitting

The fire was roaring in the hearth while the smell of bread and wine filled the cabin air. Rhys, Cass, Az, and you were all sitting in a circle by the couch as you joked about old memories, the outside world seemingly far away as you took a relaxing breath and enjoyed the company of your friends.

You had come up here after your father had surprised you with an arranged marriage back in your birthplace within the Court of Nightmares. Despite your job with the inner circle he still felt as if he had control over you and you were lucky that Rhys had been there to swoop you away and hide you here.

It had been three days since then and you had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The four of you were as close as could be and you were thankful they had dropped everything to help you out and be a shoulder to lean on.

Four wine glasses lay empty beside each of you though none of you were drunk by any means, the conversation light and mellow as you reached for the half-empty bottle beside Rhys.

“So, Y/N,” Cassian began, smirking when you rolled your eyes at his prying tone. “Who were you going to be wed to?”

“Really?” Rhys deadpanned. “Do you have to kill the mood?”

“It’s okay. I know he can’t help his gossiping ways.” You say sickly sweet, drinking down the red liquid faster than you should’ve. “It was some friend’s son of Keir’s. A terrible man no doubt looking to climb ranks like the rest of them. And with me being the only daughter of my father, you know he was looking to make alliances to secure his power as well.”

“They’re all like that. It’s pathetic.” Azriel grumbled from his spot on the floor.

“The men are the worst of them all, treating us daughters lesser than.” You snort and lean back on your hands. “It just sucks that us women are caught in the crossfire of your pissing contests.”

“Our pissing contests?” Rhysand echoed, arching his brow as you waved your hand in the air to gesture vaguely.

“Men in general. It’s so much harder for us than it is for you when it comes to scenarios like this. You guys get to go and do whatever you want, fuck whoever you want, etc., while we have to be everything all at once lest we ruin our family image.” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head in irritation as you ranted to the group.

“If I were a man I wouldn’t have to put up with being treated as a mere breeding sow or a stepping stool to a higher purpose. I could take what I wanted.” They were all watching you with amusement as you crossed your arms over your chest, glowering. “For example, I bet the three of you never once got lectured on the importance of maintaining your purity for a woman or how to please them properly.”

“Well, no, but-” Cassian tried to interrupt but you raised to sit on your knees and snapped your fingers in exasperation, cutting him off.

“Exactly my point! It’s a sexist, ridiculous outlook on women as a whole. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad about wanting our own pleasure when you lot can take part in yours whenever you please.” You realized too late how you had completely derailed the conversation and glanced at your now empty glass of wine, making a note to keep it that way.

“You certainly have very strong feelings towards this subject.” Rhys pointed out, his violet eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I didn’t realize this was such a sore topic. Shall we join you in your celibacy?”

All three of them laughed and you felt your face heat in embarrassment. It was your own fault for making it such a big deal and you were starting to regret the ammunition you had just given them. You rushed to defend yourself from whatever picture they were painting of you. 

“I’m not celibate, I just-” You tried to get out, your voice cracking as you considered your words.

Three pairs of eyes stare at you as you clear your throat and straighten your spine, finding a small stain on the rug underneath you to focus on. “I mean that in the sense that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that since I’m not. I just think the issue needs to be talked about more.”

“The issue of your sex life?” Azriel quipped, grinning when you threw a pillow at him.

“No! The issue of the scale of men and women.” You retort with a flip of your middle finger. “Can we just change the topic?”

“I just can’t believe you’ve actually had sex with someone. What would your mother think, Y/N?” Cassian faked a dramatic gasp and you resisted the urge to chuck the glass bottle at his head. 

"Listen-” You try to cut in but your pleas fell on deaf ears as all three of your best friends started to gang up on your blushing state.

“You have had sex before right?” Rhys smirked devilishly. “Touching yourself doesn’t count, it takes two people.”

“Or more.” Azriel gave you a wink and you blushed crimson, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to regain control of the situation.

“Yes, yes. I’ve done it before with someone else.” You felt self-conscious even admitting to that and you could tell they wanted more details. Before they could even ask though you held out your hand to silence them. “Why am I in the hot seat? Can we move on to someone else? Or a new topic entirely?”

“Oh no, this is very interesting. I want to know more.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, shooting his brothers an amused glance as you shook your head.

“Well if it’s so interesting how about I ask you how many people you’ve had sex with, hm?” You challenged your High Lord, blinking in surprise when he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“I have no problem telling you how many. What was it you said, we shouldn’t be made to feel bad about seeking our own pleasure?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as you puckered your lips in silence. “I would say at least thirty.”

“Thirty?!” You were shocked.

“If you think that’s scandalous you really don’t want to hear Azriel’s…or Cassian’s.”

“How do you even? Were you courting all of them?”

Rhysand snorted while Cassian and Azriel grinned, the former laying sideways and propping his head up on his elbow. “You do know you don’t have to be courting someone to fuck them right, princess? Sex isn’t magically unlocked by writing poems and delivering flowers.” Cassian teased.

“I know that.” You snapped, frowning. “I just don’t see why. It doesn’t even feel that good.”

The room immediately fell into silence and your body tensed. All three of your friends were staring at you, mouths open, with shocked expressions. You brought your knees up to your chest, a comfort action, as Azriel cleared his throat and clicked his tongue.

“What doesn’t feel good? Sex itself?” He questioned, watching you shrug. “How many people have you had sex with, Y/N?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You went on the defense immediately, knowing they would laugh. However Rhys held out his pinky for you to hook, his face serious as he promised you that no one would make fun of you.

You mulled over lying or not but you knew they would be able to tell. It wasn’t something you were proud of but you truly never got the appeal of it. A few girls back in the Court of Nightmares were constantly bragging about it but you didn’t get the desire.

“Two.” You whispered, wincing when Cassian almost choked on his drink.

“Two? Did you say two?” He said hoarsely, hitting his chest with an open palm to clear his throat. “How old are you?”

“Why does it matter?” You ran a hand over your face frustratedly. “Why is any of this relevant to our friendship? Yes, I’ve only had sex with two people. It was painful, lasted a couple of minutes both times and just left me feeling frustrated and used. I didn’t like it. Can we move on?”

They watched you and you saw their gazes turn from shocking to pitying. 

“So…no one has made you cum before?” Azriel whispered, voice tight as you closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“No, they aren’t supposed to.” You said as if it were obvious. “I was always told sex is for the man, to make a baby. It’s not really something that we enjoy but we just pretend we do.”

“Oh you sweet, summer child,” Rhys cooed. “That’s….that’s just cruel. And not what sex is at all.”

You felt agitated, embarrassed, and frustrated all at the same time. It was like they all knew some secret that you didn’t, that they were teasing you again. The night was not supposed to have taken this turn but you had dug this grave yourself.

“I’m going to bed.” You huffed and began to stand, grunting when Cassian grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable or anything, Y/N. It’s just that is a very…shocking thing to hear.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as you glared at him.

“Are you telling me that you all care about the women you sleep with? That you make them cum every single time?” Your voice was tight as they looked at each other and then back to you, nodding. A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Another pregnant pause filled the room as you watched them, their eyes darkening while they looked you over. There was a noticeable shift in the air, your mouth suddenly dry as you squirmed on the floor.

“Would you like to see it, darling?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as Rhys’s words reverberated through you. They all had the same look in their eyes, one of hunger, but you were convinced they were messing with you. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You laughed without humor, your eyebrows knitting together in anger. “You all are assholes for teasing me, you know that? I’m going to bed.”

This time it was Azriel who stopped you though not with his hands. Two silky, dark tendrils of smoke curled around your arms and held you on the floor. It made your breath hitch and goosebumps rise on your skin as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Az, this isn’t funny.”

“We aren’t joking, princess.” Cassian purred, one of his hands wandering to your thigh as he made his way beside you. “There are many things we would joke about but your pleasure isn’t one of them…and trust me when I say that we would love to help you out.”

“What-all of you?” You asked softly as your gaze moved across all three of them. “I don’t…I mean you are all very handsome, obviously, but don’t feel obligated to-”

Rhysand sat in front of you and grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, the former dragging over your bottom lip as you held back a moan at the contact. Azriel’s shadows were drawing shapes into your soft skin while Cassian’s hand seemed to drift higher and higher, all the attention making your head spin.

Your High Lord knew it too, a smirk working its way to his lips as he bent down until he was a hairsbreath away from your lips.

“This is anything but an obligation to us, darling. This is pure, carnal desire in its rawest form. A primal need.” His voice was smooth as silk, your eyelids fluttering as his lips moved to ghost over your ear. “A desperate urge to take care of you until you’re drowning in pleasure.”

“Look at her,” Azriel growled from your other side, his hazel eyes appearing behind Rhys. He had on a wicked smile, his head slightly tilted as he surveyed you. “She wants it so bad.”

“Do you, princess?” Cassian asked teasingly, his hand stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Do you want us to take care of you?”

“Yes.” You breathed, your sultry voice surprising you as all three of them pulled away and grinned. All of their warmth and comfort disappeared and you almost let out a whine, wanting it back desperately. 

“How about we make this a game?” Rhys asks his two friends, standing tall over you. There was already a noticeable bulge in his pants that your fingers were itching to touch. “Seven minutes in heaven?”

“Person who makes her cum the hardest gets to fuck her?” Cassian finished, licking his lips. “Gods, I need to go first.”

However, before he could grab you, Rhys hoisted you up bridal style into his arms. You giggled as he looked over his shoulder and said, “Go ahead and start the timer. I won’t need all seven.”

The bedroom door swung open and then quickly shut again as you were pressed right against it, his lips on yours before you could make a sound. It felt so wrong and yet so right, your fingers immediately running through his midnight black hair.

“Stars above, you’re so beautiful.” He grunted into your ear as he kissed down your neck, his lips latching onto your pulse point while he shimmied off your pants. “I could smell how badly you want this.”

“Please, Rhys,” You whined, his fingertips ghosting over the wet spot on your panties. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t answer you by words but by actions, as he pushed your underwear aside to rub your clit with his thumb. It made your knees wobble from how good it felt. One of your hands came up to grasp his forearm, your head hitting the door behind you. “Oh my gods, that feels-I feel…”

“So fucking good,” Rhys finished for you. He kissed you hungrily, his own cock straining against its confines. Two more fingers dipped down and circled the entrance of your cunt before he thrust them in sloppily, choking back a moan. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his skin at the roughness of his motions, his upper lip curled as drank in every expression on your face. “Fuck me,” You gasped as a pleasure you had only read about overtook your body, those thick fingers curling each time they entered you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Never.” He promised. “I will never stop making you feel this good, never stop making you scream around my fingers. You’re mine. Forever.” His words were like ice to a burn as you felt a strong surge of ecstasy boil over. Rhys held you as you exploded around his fingers, working you through the best orgasm of your life with words of praise and soft strokes.

“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” You mewled at his tone as your pussy tried to swallow his fingers deeper. “Such a good girl. You did so well…”

“Rhys that was…I’ve never…” Your words were breathless as you watched him with hooded eyes, your lips slightly parted as he gave you a knowing smile and kissed you. It was loving and warm, like a blanket on a cold winter’s night, and you melted into it.

He threaded his fingers through your hair to deepen it, taking control, and just as you felt him start to rut into your thigh the door behind you shook with a pounding force.

“Don’t need seven minutes my ass! Time’s up, High Lord!” Cassian chuckled, his grin feline as Rhys opened the door with a glowering look. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”

“Just remember who just made your eyes roll back, darling.” Rhys purred into your ear before kissing your cheek, purposefully hitting Cass’s shoulder as he made his way back out to the living room. You tried to follow him with your eyes but Cassian was quick to step forward and make you step backward., your thighs still shaking.

“Was it that good, princess? Or were you just pretending for him?” He teased as he strode forward, making you retreat until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell back, your smile growing when the general appeared over you. “You don’t have to lie, I promise I won’t tell.”

“It was pretty amazing…” You sighed as he rolled his eyes before sinking to his knees at the end of the bed. He threw your legs over his shoulders before you could process what was happening and by the time you tried to squirm away, he had you pinned.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere.” He growled as he gazed at your swollen cunt, your lips puffy and glistening. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess. Is it sensitive?”

Before you could answer he blew a cool breeze across your sex, making you jump. Cassian smirked and used both of his hands to spread you wide open. He leaned forward and spat on your clit, watching it mingle with your wetness as he inserted one finger. “Gods you’re making it so hard to be gentle.”

“Then don’t,” You urged, your pupils blown wide in desire. “Treat me how I deserve to be treated.”

Cassian let your words sink in before he dove headfirst into your pussy, three fingers roughly fucking into your hole as he scraped the hood of your clit with his teeth. It was sensory overload and you bucked forward with a small shout, your hands immediately fisting into his hair as he ate you out like a starved animal.

Every nerve in your body had already been shot but this was mind-numbing pleasure. It had you crying out for more, fucking his face as his stubble rubbed against your thighs. He was no better as he sucked and fucked your cunt until he could feel you start to tighten around him.

You hated how fast you were cumming but you also didn’t know if you could hold it any longer, your cries to slow down falling on deaf ears. Cassian swirled his tongue up and down, side to side, making sure to not waste a drop of your excitement. He knew how to eat someone out.

“Cass, Cass-” You tried to warn him, shifting your hips, only for him to tighten his hold on you. “Cass I can’t. I can’t hold it.”

“Cum all over my face, princess,” Cassian grunted as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your body already falling over the edge of the abyss. “Soak my beard, fuck my face, use me to get off. It’s all for you.”

Whereas Rhys had been sweet, Cassian was a little bit of both. It made you yearn for more of his degrading praise and you quickly found yourself following his orders, your hips rolling over his face as you came loudly.

The door started banging again but you didn’t care and neither did he. In fact, Cassian was so lost in what he was doing he almost lashed out when Azriel appeared behind him. You whined when he was pulled back but quickly settled when you felt cool hands running over your body.

No, not hands. Shadows.

Your eyes widened when Azriel’s hazel gaze appeared inches from your face. He had a dark look and an even darker smirk as his shadows lazily rubbed along your skin, his hands gently pulling off your top.

“Did my brothers fully satisfy you or are you still wanting more, mouse?” Azriel cooed into the empty room, tossing the last of your clothing aside so that you were now bare before him. “Answer me.”

“I want more.” You gulped, drinking precious air as the Shadowsinger tilted his head in wonder. “Please.”

“Who taught you those manners, pet?” He raised a curious brow while both of his hands cupped your sensitive tits, thumbs barely grazing over your nipples. It was enough to make you squirm though which he was counting on. “I’ll be happy to give you more but I want you to beg.”

“Beg?”

“Beg.”

You faltered at first, not sure what it was he wanted to hear, but when he went to pull away from your breasts you ran with it. “No, no, please keep touching me!” You whined, groaning when one of his tendrils of smoke circled your clit. “Oh, Gods, that feels so good.”

“I’ll stop if you don’t fucking beg for it, Y/N. I want to hear you tell me how badly you want my fingers. How greedy you are for already cumming twice but still needing more, like the dirty slut you are.” He sneered, his nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to just fuck you then and there. 

“I am greedy! I want more, I want it so fucking bad, Az!” You cried, desperate for his touch to grow stronger. He was keeping you on the edge. “I am a, fuck, I’m a dirty slut. I want you so bad, so so bad, please.”

“You’re a quick learner.” He smiled before bending down and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth at the same time his shadows started stroking your slit. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry of euphoria as he bit and nibbled his way over to your other boob, the pressure on your clit increasing with each second.

“I always knew you were dirty, mouse,” Azriel murmured as he gave a harsh suck, enjoying the way you arched into it. “Always knew this how you wanted to be fucked. Just look at this greedy little cunt, hm? Look at how it’s swallowing my fingers.”

You couldn’t see it but you could feel it as he thrust two fingers inside of you, the walls sensitive as he stroked them and found that special spot with ease. His fingers plus his mouth on your breasts was heaven as your head thrashed back and forth, your body desperate to just be fucked.

But he wasn’t going to give that to you. At least not yet. No, Azriel was focused on making you cum one more time. The tip of his tongue flicked over your hardened nub as his shadows came back to rub your clit, all of the stimulations becoming too much, too fast.

“Azriel, fuck!” You squealed as you came for the third time that night. This time you felt yourself ascend from your body, watching yourself from below as he worked you through it but didn’t slow down. “Ohhhhh fuck…”

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He growled as he removed his fingers, smirking when your eyes had that glazed look to them. You whimper as he picks you up gently, shushing you, then turning to see Rhys and Cassian waiting in the doorway. “I think she’s done for the night.”

“No…” You mumble softly, needily. “I want you…all of you. Please.”

There was a beat of silence as they considered your state and each other before you were brought back to the bed and spread out for their viewing pleasure. You felt like you were cock drunk at this point, especially as Rhys pulled his cock out right in front of your face.

You wasted no time in bringing him into your mouth, your saliva dripping out the sides of your mouth as you worked his cock up and down. Rhys threw his head back and growled, the room seeming to shake before he grabbed a fistful of your hair to help guide you.

“If your mouth is this good I can’t wait for your cunt.” He laughed airly before moaning once more, watching as Azriel stood to your other side with his cock standing proudly. 

The bed dipped behind you and before you could blink you felt Cassian rub his cock up and down your folds, words of praise or prayer spilling from his lips as he sunk in inch by inch. It felt amazing and you pulled off Rhys’s dick long enough to moan loudly.

“Shit, Cassian,” You groaned. “You’re so big.”

“You’re just tight as fuck, princess. Gods, I don’t think I’m going to fit.” He cursed, his fingers squeezing your hips as you whipped your head to look back at him.

“Make it fit.” You said lowly, your eyes narrowed in challenge which had him grinning. He gave you a shrug of his shoulders before pulling out and slamming back in, rocking your forward and straight into Azriel’s cock. He took advantage of the situation and forced you to swallow him whole, his biceps straining as you gagged and cried around his dick. 

“Look at you, look at the little whore you’re being for us,” Azriel said as you started to go back and forth between him and Rhys. Cassian was fucking you like a beast, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word and you never wanted it to stop. “You like being treated like this, don’t you? Like our own personal fuck toy?”

“You’re doing such a good job, darling.” Rhys’s voice soothed, your heart beating in your ears as you gazed at him. “Taking Cass so well. He’s close, I can tell.”

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up.” The Illyrian General growled as he pistoned in and out. You could feel him in your stomach as you closed your eyes and let yourself feel. “Take it, Y/N, fucking take it.” He ordered as he finally stilled in you, hot ropes of cum coating your insides as you hung your head in rapture. 

He seemed to cum forever and when he finally pulled out, you watched his cum drip down onto the bedsheets from just how much it was. Cassian smirked and collected the leaking seed onto his fingers, holding it out for you to take before Rhys snatched it and sucked it off himself.

Rhys’s eyes darkened at the taste of both of you and he quickly yanked you to him, lying back on the bed and positioning you on top. He helped guide you onto him and when you started sinking down, both of your groaned. The rhythm was soft and slow as you got used to his size, your hands coming to palm at your breasts until you felt a nudge against your asshole.

“Shhhh, relax,” Azriel’s voice shushed as he spat on his cock, lubing it up even more before he started to press into your ass. “Relax for me, mouse. I want you to take us both together. Can you do that?”

You nodded, a stupid smile on your face as you leaned back into him for support at the intrusion. It felt weird but the longer you waited, the more pleasurable it got. Soon you were rocking on to both of them in need, your sex hungry for more as they started fucking you at the same time.

It was a fullness you had never felt before but you don’t know how you could ever go on without it. They worked beautifully with each other, their moans mixing with yours as Azriel replaced your hands with his own. Rhysand watched from below, his violet eyes burning with desire as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.

They were fighting over you and it was driving you crazy. And just as Azriel went to pull you back to him, Cassian appeared at your side with his cock in his hand. It was already hard and leaking and you wasted no time in shoving him inside your mouth.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Rhys praised. “Ride us, darling. Be a good, needy girl for us.”

“Our good, naughty little whore.” Cassian purred, choking when you took him down to the base. 

“Or just our whore.” Azriel growled as he smacked your ass, watching the recoil. “A whore we can use and abuse whenever we want.”

Their words filled your veins until you felt as if you were about to burst. You could feel a fourth orgasm coming, could feel the now painful clenching of your cunt, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had enough mind to pull away from Cassian’s cock before you let out a blood-curdling scream, your body collapsing on Rhys’s chest as you squirted all over them.

All at once, together, they also found their releases and followed you with reckless abandon. The sheets were soaked, as were the rest of you, as Azriel came in your ass, Rhys came in your cunt, and Cassian came over your back. You felt like you were leaking cum from every opening you had and you loved it.

You struggled to catch your breath as they all fell into bed beside you and Rhys, the smell of sex and cum permeating the room. Rhys’s soft hand stroked up and down your back lovingly while Cass and Az whispered praises. It was slow coming back down to Earth, to the three men who you had just slept with, and you realized that you never wanted to leave the room. Never wanted to leave them.

After a few minutes, you hear rustling before Azriel stands up and asks if anyone wants to shower, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when you sat up sleepily and said, “Second round in the shower?”

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Pay Attention

Synopsis: The 3 times everyone else knew you and Lando were in love with each other, and the 1 time you two actually admitted it

female driver reader x lando norris

A/N: for this one, reader is 22 and drives for mercedes with george. also, most of the story is told from lando’s pov because this originally started off as an entirely different 3+1 fic, and I don’t have the energy to fix it. and obviously, things like race results, driver lineups, ect will be changed to better fit the story

1-

Lando Norris knows Formula 1 is unpredictable. He knows you can’t tell what will happen during a race, nonetheless a season. But no matter how unpredictable the sport is, this was the most surprising part by far.

It’s barely been 10 years, but Lando feels like he’s known you forever. You two first met at the Karting World Championship in 2014, a race you were teammates with both him and Zhou Guanyu in. Even though he beat you to first place, your 14-year-old-self didn’t let that stop you from becoming best friends with him.

It was hard to keep track of each other when the two of you were traveling all over Europe to compete in different series, so Lando almost thought he’d never get to see you again. Until in 2020, when he heard talks of the most successful female driver yet making her way through the ranks.

Since you were announced as apart of the Mercedes driver line up in the beginning of 2022, you two have been attached at the hip. You both lived in Monaco and whenever you weren’t busy with media or team duties, you were together. Traveling, in the paddock, celebrating races; if you were there, so was Lando.

Fans were used to that fact and they usually expected it off the track, but not for races and track battles, so everyone was a bit surprised when you two placed P3 and P4 in Bahrain.

It was Round 1 of the 2023 season and even though everyone knows your results at Bahrain don’t dictate your entire season, Lando was still excited you were on the podium. He had qualified P6 behind George and yourself in P5 and P4, and with both Fernando’s Aston Martin and both Red Bulls in front of you, you weren’t expected to make it on the top steps.

Though after a few badly timed pit stops, Lando ended the race in P4, 5 seconds behind you in P3. Cheers rung out from around the grandstands as both the Mercedes and McLaren cars crossed the finish line. Your team garages were ecstatic, climbing the fence to meet you at the checkered flag and shouting congratulations through the radio.

Lando watched from behind as you steered your car into perc ferme alongside Max and Sergio and climbed out to celebrate with your team. It wasn’t P1, but it was a huge achievement to place so high so early in the season and it was obvious how proud everyone was of you.

He couldn’t help himself from leaving his car and engulfing you in a hug. You were both laughing and the Brit could practically hear your grin through it.

He couldn’t help himself from leaving his car and engulfing you in a hug. You were both laughing and the Brit could practically hear your grin through it.

“You did amazing! I’m so proud of you” He says, the words muffled through your helmets.

“Thanks, I wish you were gonna be up there with me, you deserve it” you say, looking up to the podium.

Lando smiles and he’s suddenly grateful his helmet is there to hide his blush. “Thanks. Don’t worry though, soon enough we’ll be up there with a 1-2”

“With me P1, I assume?”

Your eyes are playful underneath your helmet, and he laughs. “Yeah, we’ll see. Go celebrate with your team, Y/n. Don’t ditch me for the after party though!” He shouts as you walk over to your post-race interview, starting to laugh.

“I’d never ditch you!” You shout back over your shoulder, your helmet and balaclava coming off to reveal your grin.

Lando leaves to get weighed and meet his team back in the McLaren garage, keeping his head gear on because of the stupid smile he’s all too aware is still on his face. He was supposed to go to the media pen to finish up some race interviews before sitting down for the debrief with McLaren, but you were his best friend; he couldn’t miss your first podium of the season.

Lando, still clad in his orange race suit, arrives just as Max’s national anthem is playing. He probably should be paying at least a bit of attention to the winner, he’s one of Lando’s best mates after all, but then he saw you, grinning on the third step under the many bright lights of the street circuit, and he couldn’t look away.

He watched with his own smile as you opened your bottle of champagne and poured the majority of it on the Red Bull drivers, before downing the rest of it yourself. He’d wait until you came back to street level, where he’d be waiting for another hug and feeling the sticky champagne and bright grin against his neck.

You’d start talking about the race, the moments where you didn’t think you’d make it to the podium and how happy you’d be if you could get another one. You’ll ask about his race and tell him that next weekend, he’d better be up there beside you, no matter what.

And Lando will be next to you, like he always is, smiling and hanging on to every word you say because you’re happy, so he’s happy too.

What Lando would not realize is that each moment, from when he hugged you after you got out of your car to just then when you were walking through the paddock together, had been caught by multiple people, each one thinking the one thing you two had not yet realized.

“They’re so in love with each other”

2-

Lando Norris did not hate the Miami Grand Prix, at least not usually. But this time around, F1’s 2023 stop in Florida is one he could’ve gladly missed.

It was a double header weekend, and after coming off an extremely mediocre P9 finish in Azerbaijan, Lando was less than excited to spend 4 days in the hot sun in an even more mediocre car. There were so many unnecessary media obligations to go with the flashiness of Miami, and by Friday evening he was already looking forward to the flight back home.

The one thing that did brighten his day was you, who he also had dinner plans with after FP2. He let you distract him with whichever details about your life you had neglected to tell him before, let you get him excited for Sunday’s race again, and let you put him in a better mood.

You two were walking from the restaurant to Lando’s car, still talking and laughing as usual, when Lando asked to you come by his hotel after qualifying the next day.

“If both our qualifying are shit, we can get ice cream and mope together,” he posed jokingly, “and if it goes great, we can celebrate together as well”

But then you stop laughing and your tone changes. “Oh, sorry Lando, but I’m going out with Logan after qualifying; he’s gonna show me around Miami a bit. I’m sure he won’t mind if you come though? Do you want to?”

He pauses; Logan? “No it’s fine. I should probably be relaxing after tomorrow anyways, I think the heat’s getting to me a bit. You two have fun, though” He assures you, keeping a light-hearted tone to mask his distaste. 

Logan?

Lando didn’t have anything against Logan, he thought he was a nice guy with a lot of potential. But now he’s taking his best friend away from him and for what reason? You can see Miami any day, any time you want, and if you wanted to, you certainly didn’t need him as your guide.

But fine. Lando does not own you, you’re perfectly allowed to have your own friends, and if you wanted to have an evening out with Logan Sargeant, it was perfectly okay with Lando.

The Brit drove you back to your hotel before setting off to his own, and while you were his best friend and of course, delightful company, he couldn’t help but dwell on the sour taste left in his mouth. He didn’t know why this bothered him so much.

By the time Lando was back in his room, he was too tired to figure it why and decided it was a problem for Future Lando.

He woke up Saturday morning completely forgetting about the events of last night and instead focused on getting the best results possible today. He met up with his trainer for breakfast, left for the track, and joined his PR officer in the McLaren garage. She was escorting Lando to the media pen when he suddenly slowed.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” The woman took note of his tense figure, his hard-set eyes.

All because you were walking away from the media pen with Logan at your side, laughing and looking way too happy for his liking.

He felt the sourness this time. He felt it rise throughout his body and spread like wild fire. His only question was why.

Why were you laughing so much? Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he let any of this go? Why were you with Logan and not with him?

“Nothing,” the McLaren drives says. “let’s go” Lando never usually hurries to the media pen, but he didn’t want to look at you and Mr. American boy-next-door any longer.

He was asked questions and he gave answers, Lando just couldn’t tell you what any of them were. This was the problem Past Lando had left for him, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He ruled out anger; he didn’t feel mad, per se, more frustrated than angry. He wasn’t upset; he certainly didn’t feel sad. Possessiveness? He wasn’t usually possessive over his friends though, and you two weren’t dating or anything like that, so there was no real reason to feel protective. Still, Lando couldn’t shake the sourness, and was once again left without answers about you and his feelings.

It wasn’t hard to miss the Brit’s change in attitude, and it wasn’t something his friends were going to ignore.

“Are you okay, mate?” Carlos says, walking alongside him through the paddock after FP3. “You’ve been quiet all day”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just tired, I guess” Lando shrugs, not sure if he should tell the Ferrari driver.

“C’mon, you’re seriously not gonna tell me? It’ll make you feel better, trust me” Carlos pushed, and he hesitated before answering.

“I don’t know. I barely know what’s wrong myself” Carlos gives him a look, and he sighs before continuing.

“It’s just weird with Y/n lately. I don’t know but the entire weekend’s just been weird”

“Why? Because she’s hanging out with Logan?”

“How did you-”

“Lando, it’s not that hard to notice, and it’s not that hard to notice why you don’t like it” The Spaniard nudges him, looking at him with a mischievious glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You like Y/n, so you don’t like her hanging around with Logan” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What’re you talking about? I don’t like Y/n, she’s my best friend, that’s ridiculous” Lando makes a face. That makes no sense, of course I don’t have feelings for Y/n.

“Yeah, and the Haas is going to win tomorrow. Lando, I told you, you can trust me. Just admit it, cabrón”

“Admit what? I don’t like her, I told you that” Lando insists, because he doesn’t. There’s no way.

“Okay mate, whatever you say” Carlos says, putting his hands up in surrender and moving towards the Ferrari garage. “Let me know how that ‘not liking my best friend thing goes’”

Lando just shakes his head and sighs. Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about.

Qualifying turns out to be the thing Lando needs to get his mind off everything; he qualifies P6 with Oscar right behind him and confidence in his car for tomorrow. The man spends some extra time going over the data from today with the strategists and leaves the track just after sunset to head back to his hotel.

He wasn’t completely lying to you yesterday night; the heat was having a bit of an effect on him, and it was probably a good idea to relax and stay in for the night. He ordered something from room service that his trainer would approve of and took a shower before climbing into bed.

A knock on his door is the thing that stops Lando from falling asleep.

It’s past 10, no one should be knocking at his door, but that’s not good enough of a reason to ignore the person, so he gets up to answer it and should probably be more surprised that’s it you.

“Not here to collect team secrets for tomorrow, are you?” Lando questions, jokingly.

“I don’t think we need anymore help beating you McLarens, thank you” You play along with a laugh.

“I’m offended. I hope you have an apology along to go with whatever that it” He gestures to the bag in your hands, and you nod.

“I do, but you’ll have to let me in first to get either” Your best friend moves aside to let you into his room and onto his couch.

“Seriously though, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just felt bad for ditching you today and figured I could make up for it with ice cream” You shrugged, opening up the bag and holding a container covered in frost.

“I appreciate the gesture Y/n, but we both know our trainers-” You cut him off. “Would kill us if we eat this, I know. That’s why I only bought one, so we could just share and have half. That way it’s not really eating an ice cream sundae, it’s just eating a scoop and a half”

“I like your thinking”

“That’s why you keep me around” You both smile, and Lando gets up to get two spoons.

“You don’t have to be sorry, by the way. It doesn’t bother me that you went out with Logan” He knows you must’ve felt really guilty, because you’re still wearing the clothes you wore in the paddock, meaning you went immediately from wherever Logan took you to straight to get the ice cream and come here, despite the fact you should be in bed and it would be chaos if someone found out you were here this late Saturday night.

He also knows you wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I know. I still felt bad though” You shrug, thanking him before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“Don’t be. Where’d he take you, anyway?” Lando questions. He knows that if he was talking about this any time else, he feel that sourness all over again. But there was no reason to if you were right here beside him.

“Nowhere special; we just walked around, shopped a bit, and stopped to get some food before we realized we should probably head back to our hotels”

“And aren’t you having the same realization now?” He asks, taking another spoon of ice cream.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried enough to the point where I’m actually gonna do it” You explain, and Lando laughs.

“So what? I’m stuck with you for the rest of the night then?”

“You say it like you don’t totally love the idea” You smile playfully.

“You’re right, I’d rather you here with me than anywhere else”

“Me too” The man misses your soft gaze and love-sick smile.

Truthfully, Lando just likes when you’re with him in general.

3-

It was the Austria GP and for the first time in a while, Lando Norris felt a little carefree. He had over two weeks to recover from Canada, the next round was his home race, and things were looking positive for Sunday. He was happy with racing, and he was happy with you too.

Ever since Miami, you two have been closer than usual; fans were used to seeing you guys always together, but this time, they really never saw you without seeing Lando, and Lando without seeing you. Both of you seemed oddly smiley recently and it didn’t go without notice. Even more than usual, it was like you and Lando were in your own weird little obliviously-in-love bubble that nothing could break through.

Maybe that was why you and Lando finished P4 and P5, each of you one place away from a repeat of Bahrain. It obviously wasn’t your best finishes you two have ever had, but it was good enough for there to be a celebration afterwards. The drivers you and Lando were closest to also finished high in the points, and before you knew it, you had agreed to attending the after-party happening in a few hours at the nearest club.

You put on some makeup, fixed your hair, changed into a beautiful outfit, and stuffed your purse with your essentials before you got a text from Lando telling you that he was outside. You insisted that you could drive yourself and he didn’t need to pick you up, but Lando persisted, saying that it was stupid to bring two cars incase you weren’t fit to drive at the end of the night, and had to leave your very expensive car on the street all night.

“You look gorgeous, it almost makes up for the ridiculous amount of time I’ve spent waiting here for you” Lando says with a smirk as you open the door to his car.

You roll your eyes through your blush. “It wasn’t that long. Besides, my room’s on a high floor, it was the elevator’s fault.” You reason, clicking your seatbelt into place before Lando pulls out of the hotel parking lot and onto the streets.

“Yeah sure, blame the machinery because it’s never your fault you’re late”

“It’s not!” You insist with a laugh. He hums sarcastically in response, turning on the radio and letting it fill the comfortable silence

The streets in front of the club are lined with dozens of high-end cars, so you and Lando are forced to park nearly a block away from the entrance. The bouncer lets the two of you in without hesitation, and even from outside, you can hear the bass from the speakers inside.

The interior is exactly how you expected it to be, colorful strobe lights from overhead, music that you have to shout to hear someone over, and a dance floor that’s packed to the brim with celebrities, drivers, and everyone in between.

You and Lando claim the nearest booth to the exit, and he leans in close enough to be audible. “I’m going to get us a few drinks, try and see if you can find a few people” You nod, and the two of you go off in different directions.

You manage to locate Alex, Lily, George, and Carmen in a booth together and after a few very loud greetings, manage your way through the mob again to find Lando and lead him back to your friends. You all start talking and laughing, placing bets on which drivers are going home with a mystery girl, which ones are going to get black-out drunk, and which ones are going to show off their embarrassingly bad drunk dance moves in front of everyone.

Drinks and shots get handed out, a few more drivers join your table, and soon enough, you and your group are somewhere between tipsy and drunk and are moving onto the already-packed dance floor. Lando moved up to the DJ, telling you he’d be back to dance soon, and left you with your fellow drivers and their girlfriends.

You spend a few hours dancing with the girls, giggling through your drinks, and wandering around the club in search for more friends. At the point where your vision starts to got a bit blurry and the music is making your head hurt, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a familiar voice in your ear.

“Hey stranger!” Lando shouts, turning you around to face him.

“Lando!” You call out loudly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “Missed you” Alcohol made you a bit affectionate.

“Only been gone an hour and a half, love” Even though you can’t see his face and you’re not at your sharpest, you know he’s got a dumb smirk on his face.

“Missed you too, though” He says, taking the drink out of your hand and taking a sip before wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Are you here to dance with me?” You pull back, looking into his eyes. His pupils aren’t dilated, so you know he’s sober and the designated driver for the night.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else” Even though everyone else around you is dancing at a fast, eager pace, you and Lando keep your arms wrapped around each other, bodies swaying softly, heads laying on each other’s shoulders.

Even with the flashing lights and booming music, you probably could’ve drowsed off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realize how much time has passed but at some point, Lando taps your arm and pulls away from you.

“Time to go home, I think” He says, placing his hands on your shoulders to get you to focus on him.

“You think?” You reply, both drowsy and a little drunk.

“I think so. I’m gonna see if anyone else needs a ride and say goodbye, then we’ll leave, okay?” Lando tells you, intertwining your hands together before leading you further onto the dancefloor.

The Brit finds the other drivers and does what he said before handing you your purse and guiding you out of the club, hands still held together. Your best friend hands you his jacket to wear and places his arm around your waist as the two of you walk back to the car.

You know that Lando will get you back to your hotel and to your room where he’ll take your heels off for you. You know he’ll place a glass of water and a few Aspirins’ on a nightstand for you and lay down underneath the duvet with you because he’s too tired to drive back to his own hotel.

You’ll know you two will fall asleep almost immediately, and wake up closer than you were laying last night. You know Lando will not mind doing any of this, will actually like it, because you don’t let him take care of you as much as he’d like.

You know all of these things and a lot of other stuff too, you just don’t know that the person you did it all with is the person you’re in love with, or that he’s in love with you too.

+ 1

Lando always appreciated the summer break after half a season of racing, but there was something special about this one that made him wish it would never end.

You, Lando, and a group of your mutual friends planned a week-long trip to an island in the Caribbean as ‘one last hurrah’ before you two had to fly to Zandervort for the second half of the season. It was your fourth day on the island, and even though every moment since you arrived has been filled with some sort of fun and exciting adventure, this was already your favorite day of the trip.

You and Lando had connecting rooms, ‘a complete coincidence’ as your friends had put it, and this morning, you two decided to take advantage of it and make breakfast together. You weren’t supposed to meet with the others until a few more hours, and you loved cooking with Lando, so shortly after you woke up you made the short journey into his room.

“Morning,” your best friend greeted you, clad in black sweats and an old T-shirt you’ve seen millions of times. “I bought pancake mix from the store in the lobby, but we can run out and get something else if you like?”

“No, it’s okay,” you insist, “pancakes are fine. Besides, I know you make the best ones.”

“I know, you must be so jealous” Lando smirks, grabbing a mixing bowl and pan from the hotel’s kitchenette cabinet.

“Totally. So what’s on our agenda today?” You say, moving around him to take ingredients from the fridge.

“Not much, actually. I think we’re just going to the beach and walk around the town a bit” You nod as you grab your phone and click on the shared playlist between yourself and Lando.

You let the music fill the comfortable silence as the two of you move around the small kitchen. It’s a beautiful and all-too domestic scene; the morning sun streaming through the windows, the soft music in the background, the way you both seamlessly know your way around the kitchen, how easy it was to work around each other. They’re the facts your mind notices too quickly, and it’s hard to stop your brain from thinking about a future where things could be like this everyday.

Within a few minutes, you each had a reasonably-sized stack of pancakes that you brought outside onto the balcony with you. You settle into the adjacent chairs that look out to the waves crashing onto the beach and deep blue ocean. It’s still early; this part of the island isn’t awake yet, and it’s easy to relax in the still quiet.

While you shooed away the image of the future like this, Lando welcomed it with open arms. He thought how effortless it would be to make a scene like this; a hotel room, an apartment in Monaco, a house in the UK, Lando would take either and all of them. As long as you came with it.

His mouth speaking before his brain can control it. “I wish it was like this forever” He blurts out.

“You don’t want to go back to racing?” You look over at him, eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t look back at you, keeps his eyes on the view in front of him instead.

“No, I do. I mean-” Lando pauses, thinks it over. He gets up from his chair to lean on the railing, his back facing you. This could ruin everything, he thinks. If he says it, he can’t go back, and nothing will be the same again.

He stops thinking.

“I mean with you. I honestly don’t care where we are; racing, on an island, whatever. We could be on another planet for all I care. As long as it’s just you and me, I think I could handle it” He finishes, feeling your presence next to him a few moments later, your shoulders brushing.

“Really?” You ask, eyes widened. You would’ve never thought he felt the same.

“Really. I’ve always felt that way” Then he’s looking you in that way, the way everyone’s been trying to explain to you for a while.

You don’t second-guess yourself when you put your hands around his face and press your lips onto his, and especially not when he starts moving his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, and you don’t think you’d be mad if this was your forever.

You two finally pull away from each other, and even though the waves on the beach are still the same waves and the ocean is still the same deep blue, you think that everything changed just a little bit.

You’re still so close you could probably count his eyelashes if you wanted to, and you smile.

“I love you”

His smile mirrors yours the second after he hears it. “I love you too”

You two don’t really have to tell people; everyone figures it out within the first five minutes of being around both of you. Everyone teases you relentlessly, but internally, they’re just glad the two of you finally saw what’s been there all along.

i never really know how to end these. anyways, a lando fic to make up for the time i’ve been gone. sorry about that btw, i got major imposter syndrome and the lack of f1 content makes for a lack of motivation. this is also my first ln4 fic, and i have no idea what to expect from it. hope u enjoyed tho 🫶

[sanemi-whore]

All Night (Cruel World Pt.2)

Thankfully (for Sanemi's sake) you return from Final Selection alive and well. However, you being apart of the Demon Slayer Corps has his nerves going insane. To assure your safety, you often attend missions alongside him. word count: 15.150 warning: character death, blood, jealousy, cursing, smut, dark themes, aphrodisiac, anxiety, impregnation kink, mentions of abortion @roaringlion @kiki17483

Part One | Masterlist | Final Part

You felt old next to the other Final Selection survivors and the thought causes your heart to ache. You were an adult, far from the young age of 14 - the youngest apart of the survivors. To think children join the Demon Slayer Corps and put their lives at risk in order to help others - you wonder how old Sanemi was when he joined. Or Genya - all of the slayers you’ve met. 

The morning sun shines bright ahead of you and the other five survivors. Your eyes look forward to the mountaintop shrine, a soft smile forming on your lips at the two children standing before the survivors. 

“Welcome back.” they say in Unison. “Congratulations on completing Final Selection. We’re pleased to see that you’re all safe..”

There’s a low sniffle beside you. You hum at the sight - a young boy no older than 16. You recall just how terrified he was to encounter a demon coming at him with such speed that he barely managed to dodge its attack. It was raining that night and the boy's burgundy hair was clouding his vision. You intervene, slashing the demon’s neck. The boy, Shinra, never left your side until now. 

“First we must issue you all uniforms once we take your correct measurements.” the dark haired child started.

“Then we’ll engrave your rank on the back of your hand.” the white haired child continued.

“You then will be given the chance to select the ore that will be used to forge your weapon - swords. It will be 10-15 days before said weapons are ready to use.”

The black haired child claps their hands twice. Above you hear several crows, flocking their wings. You're excited, nearly ecstatic. You recall the many times you’ve been berated by Muichiro’s crow and how she loved him dearly that you wished to have your own. 

A crow flocks onto your shoulders. It flocks its wings several times before stopping, inspecting your face. 

“Now that you all are demon slayers, you are each assigned Kasugai Crows.” the white haired child spoke. “They are used to facilitate communication.”

The black haired child turned away to remove the long, blue cloth that laid above a table.”Now the time has come for you to choose an ore for your sword.” he says, revealing several ore’s for each of you to choose. 

“Shinra.” you call to the boy beside you, still sniffling. “Let’s go choose our Ore.”

Shinra’s eyes are wide as you speak to him, but he nods nonetheless. He follows you closely as each of the survivors inspect the ore’s.  You yourself are none the wiser choosing an ore. You contemplate having laid your eyes upon an ore and just thought it was another random rock.

“Which one should we choose, Shinra?” you smile at the boy. “I sense…that one,” you point to a medium sized ore. “Is a good fit for me.”

Shinra furrows a burgundy brow, “H-How do you know?” he murmurs. 

“I can just feel it.” you respond. You go to grab it.

Shinra’s eyes - a beautiful shade of azure,  widen and he too grabs an ore - the one directly next to yours. “Okay.” he nods. 

Soon you make your journey back to Sanemi’s estate. Your legs are aching for a break, but you do not allow them to stop. Your kasugai crow, who you learned was named Hiyori, now laid upon your shoulder as you walked. She had since grew tired of flying above you once she realized you had no intention of stopping for the night. How could you? You passed Final Selection and now was an actual Demon Slayer. 

The sky was now a dark violet color when you arrived back at the estate. You had many people to see - you agreed to visit Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo and Naho once you returned. You grew close with the young girls, often visiting them when you didn’t have to train until you dropped. You would have to thank Uzui, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma for your combat training; Muichiro (and Ginko because she wouldn’t allow you to not acknowledge her if you met with him). Mitsuri promised you pancakes one you returned and you were craving them with extra honey - her western cooking was the best you’ve ever had. 

You opened the shoji doors of Sanemi’s estate. It’s quiet inside and doesn’t appear to have anyone in it. You make your way around the estate and hum, Sanemi was not here. 

You didn’t let the fact bother you. Sanemi was a hashira after all and had responsibilities. He could possibly be doing his rounds before he returned home.

You take this time to bathe, allowing all the grime to be released from your skin was refreshing. You’re unsure how long you’ve bathed for, but once your hands begin to wrinkle was when you decided to get out. You were refreshed now, dressed now in a light kimono tied loosely and your hair in a low bun.

You decide to do another round around the estate for Sanemi. You can hear them - faint footsteps.It’s coming from the opposite side of the mansion. Your feet begin to sprint across the cold hardwood floor, a wide smile on your lips.

Sanemi was here, you note, dressed in his usual Hashira attire. He appeared to have just came in from his rounds as you suspected. 

“Nemi!” you exclaim, jumping to wrap your arms around the man. He doesn’t move back an inch, even with the impact of you crashing into him. 

Sanemi’s nostrils fill with your scent - the familiar scent that he had longed to smell for the last week. His nerves begin to calm themselves at your touch, unaware that since you've been gone that he was unable to focus on anything but your survival. 

“I’m back from Final Selection!” your heart is pumping with excitement. “I even have my own crow like you all! Her name’s Hiyori!” you continue to babble on and on about everything that happened during your week, still wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

Your face then crashes into his chest and you’re silent. Sanemi doesn’t notice it at first - he assumes you were overwhelmed with emotions to fully focus on one topic at a time. But then his bare chest feels it. Wet - were you crying?

Sanemi gets his answer when your shoulders shake and his chest appears to be even more wet. He gulps, unsure on what to do. Why were you suddenly crying? Sanemi didn’t deal with emotions well. He hated when the lower ranks would cry, it irritated him to no end. It didn’t help either that they were often crying because of him - but that's besides the point. 

Sanemi places a hand upon your head. “Y/N…” he trails off. “What’s wrong?”

Your face lifts to look at Sanemi. There it was again - the jolt. He hadn’t felt the jolt in his heart in a week and swears he was cured of whatever sickness he had. Your eyes are teary and wet, lashes sticking to one another. 

“I’m so happy!” you sob, lips quivering. 

Happy?

You were crying because you were happy?

Sanemi’s shoulders falter and now, he finds himself wanting to laugh.

“I’m happy that I passed Final Selection and you didn’t waste your time training me.” you continue, wiping your tears away with your shoulder so you wouldn’t have to unwrap your arms from Sanemi. “I’m happy I was given the opportunity to make my own decision and not be fated to one.” you’re continuing to ramble on about how happy you truly were - claiming to be happy to be surrounded by such positive people even if they were working in less than positive situations. 

You do end up unwrapping your arms around Sanemi to fall to your knees. You’re bowing before him, tears not stopping. “Thank you, Sanemi.”

Sanemi gasps, but he doesn’t stiffen. “Y/N, you don’t-”

“I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to train besides you and the other Hashira and slayers.” you’re sobbing full on now, dramatic tears leaking onto the floor. “I promise to make you proud as your tsuguko! I’ll do my best on all my missions!”

Sanemi inhales. His heart is beating rapidly and he’s unsure how to respond to you. To think that he, a Hashira of many years now and had fought demons upon demons…was going to die now due to heart failure. He hoped that Shinobu and Aoi would be the first two to cry at his funeral for denying him (a fucking Hashira at that) service. 

Sanemi’s mind wanders. He’s happy, as well, he supposes. Genya was alive and well, even if he refused to look his brother's way, he often kept tabs on him. Sorai would tell him everything Genya did when he wasn’t on missions. You were alive now, as well. Overly emotional and grateful as ever. Sanemi finds himself silently thanking whatever God there was out there that you wouldn’t be yet another death on his conscience.

Sanemi slams the door of the butterfly mansion open, a feral look upon his face. Naho jumps, her braids swinging around towards the sound. Kiyo’s eyes widen at Sanemi while Sumi quivers. “Where’s Kocho or Kanzaki?” he hisses at the three girls. 

“S-Shinobu-san said-”

“I do not care.” Sanemi dismisses them. He doesn’t see either of the two girls he’s looking for and he turns away from them. He stalks down the halls of the butterfly mansion, in coming slayers flinging themselves into the wall just to avoid him and his wrath. 

It takes another five minutes to find Shinobu and it only took him slamming open three shoji doors. 

“Shinazugawa.” Shinobu’s soft smile doesn’t falter, not even when she’s annoyed with her office being intruded. She leans back in her seat and tilts her head at him. 

“It happened again.” Sanemi exclaims.

Shinobu raises a brow.

“My heart jolted again yesterday. Matter of fact,” Sanemi steps inside the office. “it didn’t stop jolting for another 30 minutes.”

Shinobu snickers. “Y/N must be back from Final Selection already.” she notes, more to herself than as a statement to Sanemi. “Please tell her to come visit us at the Butterfly Mansion for any injuries she may have.”

Sanemi’s eyes are glaring at the younger girl. “What the hell does that have to do with my heart?!” he was growing irate by the second. Each time he came to this place he was kicked out by giggling girls. 

“I’ve checked your heart countless times, Shinazugawa.” Shinobu states with a shake of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with it or you.”

Sanemi sighs and scoffs. 

“Maybe you’re in denial?” Shinobu shrugs her shoulders. 

“In denial?” Sanemi hisses. “You and that other little brat are in denial about my health!”

Shinobu wants to laugh right now, but having Sanemi constantly come into the Butterfly Mansion and scaring the nurses (and the slayers) was becoming overwhelming. 

“My,” Shinobu manages to giggle. “have you…ever thought that your heart is jolting only when a certain someone is around you?”

Sanemi’s eyes squint. “Where the hell are you getting at?”

“That maybe you’ve failed to realize that your heart is jolting because you happen to…like Y/N?” Shinobu doesn’t want to cause Sanemi to convulse by saying the word “love” just yet. “There’s studies that show that boys are less smarter than girls, so I’m not surprised you cannot tell the difference between pain and feelings.”

Sanemi’s ears and neck darken a crimson color and his hands clenched into fists. Shinobu’s now full on laughing at him. He’s had enough of her and Uzui’s constant teasing.

“Fuck off.” Sanemi hisses and then turns to walk away. 

“Shinazugawa!” Shinobu calls before he can storm down the hallway. “I think she likes you, too. So do the rest of the Hashira.” 

Sanemi doesn’t say anything and Shinobu doesn’t expect him to, but the blush on his cheeks don’t go unnoticed. 

Sanemi makes his way out of the Butterfly Mansion and back towards his estate. He managed to bring his breathing calm, but his mind is going crazy. He thinks of you and how each time he was with you, his heart goes insane and his mind seems to go blink. His anger appears to subside when you speak to him with such a soft smile. Your eyes never show any disgust towards him, instead they’re kind and warm.

“Nemi!”

Your voice echoes through his ears from behind him. He hasn’t seen you the last few hours and when he turns, he’s shocked to see your appearance. He swallows, throat quickly running dry. You’re running towards him, a wide smile on your lips. He notes that he’s rarely seen your skin - such smooth skin that now appears to shine underneath the afternoon sun. You’ve gotten your uniform and appeared to be an exact replica of Mitsuri.

“I got my uniform!” you say excitedly when you reach Sanemi.

Sanemi looks away to not catch himself staring too long at your appearance. 

“Is that Y/N-chan?” 

“She’s so cute!”

You’re beaming at Sanemi and he feels just how hot his body begins to feel. 

“Do you feel comfortable?” Sanemi asks. You never showed this amount of skin before.

You slowly nod your head. “It’ll take some getting used to, I suppose.” you respond.

Sanemi licks his lips. His eyes roam around the area to find several slayers looking their way - your way. His nerves were now kicking in at the eyes on you.

“Do I look nice?” you ask him. “I do think it’ll be a little chilly with the uniform, but I think I’ll be alright.” you giggle to yourself.

“Is Shinazugawa-sama blushing again?”

“Why do all the girls go for guys like him?!” a slayer throws his hands in the air.

“Here.” Sanemi removes his haori and hands it over to you. He isn’t looking at you when he does so. “So you don’t get cold.”

“Shinazugawa-sama is such a nice boyfriend!” a female slayer gushes. 

“Who knew he was such a-”

The slayers scurry off when a pair of lilac eyes glare at them.

You take hold of the haori with wide eyes. “But what about you, Nemi?”

“I got more.” Sanemi shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Hm,” you hum, feeling the fabric in your hands. “Thank you. I’ll wear it on all my missions!” you place the haori over your shoulders and sigh happily.

Sanemi’s heart clenches and he inaudible sighs.

“Are you going back home?” you ask him. “I can cook us lunch if you don’t have anything to do!”

Sanemi nods and remains quiet.

“Good! Let’s go!” you hook your arm in his and begin walking.

Sanemi doesn’t mind your closeness, even if it does leave him surprised each time by just how willing you are to be entangled with him. While the pair of you stroll back to the estate in a comfortable silence, he’s thinking about just how nice you did look in your uniform - and how he didn’t like if anyone else thought the same.

When you suggested eating, Sanemi didn’t think you would invite others. You’ve just finished cooking when a knock sounds on his shoji doors. Sanemi doesn’t answer and you’re scurrying off to answer it yourself. The door opens and you’re beaming widely. 

Sanemi wants to scoff when his brother is behind the door - him, for some odd reason Tokito and an unknown slayer with burgundy hair. 

“I hope we are not intruding.” he murmurs to you, eyes only glancing at his brother for a moment. He hadn’t spoken to Sanemi in two weeks - not since the incident. 

You are, Sanemi wants to say, but he only snickers to himself instead. 

“Of course not!” you usher for them to enter. “I hope you all are hungry.”

Tokito remains silent when he sits upon the cushioned floor. He’s seated beside Genya and beside him, the unknown burgundy haired boy.

You go to serve the food for them, Sanemi grumbling to himself. He wanted to be with you - alone - not in his own home surrounded by brats.

You take your seat beside Sanemi and smile at the group of boys. “Please, eat.”

Muichiro wastes no time in doing as he’s told. Genya can feel eyes upon him, the glaring lilac eyes of his elder brother. He tries to think of your words two weeks prior - that Sanemi did love and care for him. It was hard believing you. He never made any attempt to speak with him after the fact and he grew slightly afraid that he would attempt to hurt him again if he tried. 

“I met Shinra during Final Selection.” you tell Sanemi after a few bites of the pork cutlet. “He’s so cute.” you gush.

Shinra’s cheeks flushed crimson at the sound of his name and the compliment. He feels two sets of eyes on him - one from the white haired man who he learned quickly was a Hashira and then the boy with dark hair and a mohawk. They’re glaring, he notes, with such dark eyes and hatred. 

“Look’s weak.” Sanemi retorts, sinking his teeth in the broccoli you steamed. 

“Very.” Genya snorts.

Muichiro turns his eyes to look at Shinra and hums in agreement.

“That’s not nice.” you frown at the three of them. “Shinra’s is a very capable swordsman.”

Genya had no issue with the burgundy haired boy. He appeared to be close in age with him and Tokito. However, if he had your affection then that meant it was taken away from his brother (and him) and he didn’t like it.

“Shinra even helped me defeat a demon, right, Shinra-kun?”

Shinra feels his throat clog up at the amount of eyes on him. He finds himself nodding - even if it wasn’t the truth. You were lying to save him the embarrassment and that caused even more self-pity in him. 

“Is that so?” Sanemi snickers. He leans forward. “He doesn’t even look like he knows how to hold a sword. I’m to believe someone like him helped you?”

You nod your head. You weren’t going to let them bring down Shinra’s self esteem about himself.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go on missions yourself.” Sanemi states. “If you need help from a weakling.”

Genya watches the way his brother glares at Shinra and now he understands where this was going. 

Sanemi was jealous - for no reason. Shinra was (for now) a weakling Mizunoto, yet you shared the rank with him. You were just lucky enough to have trained alongside several Hashira. Shinra was also only a child while you were an adult and only had eyes for Sanemi - but he knew his brother well enough to know that anyone was competition.

“Y/L-san is an amazing swordsman…woman…” Shinra’s voice is low and barely audible. He’s scared to even look the white haired man in the face but he’s grown great respect for you. “She killed the most demons during Final Selection…”

“How many did you kill?” Sanemi questions. 

“I-I…” Shinra gulps. He hasn’t killed nearly as much as you or the other survivors. He only managed to cut the heads of three - and even that took a lot out of him. 

“How about this,” Sanemi takes a bite of the pork and stands. “you show me just how good of a swordsman you are.”

“We’re eating.” you sigh, watching as Sanemi rounds the table to put (more like snatch) Shinra’s shoulder. 

“It’ll only be a moment.” Sanemi yanks Shinra from his cushioned seat and pulls him to his feet. “I have an extra sword.”

Shinra is visibly shaking in Sanemi’s tight hold. He’s pushed out the door and it causes Muichiro to snort. “Y/N.”

“Huh, yes, Tokito?” you say to him, smiling apologetically. “Is the food alright?

Muichiro nods. He licks his lips before his eyes turn to you. “Please tell Shinazugawa that no one is planning on stealing you from him.” he says nonchalantly. “All the slayers that do voice their attractions are scared of being castrated.”

You laugh nervously, eyes going wide. You feel yourself grow hot with embarrassment. 

“Genya even threatens a few that talk about you suggestively.”

Genya whips his head to glare at Muichiro, cheeks flushed. “I do not!” he hisses, denying rather quickly.

“Yes you do.” Muichiro takes a sip of his drink. “You talk down to anyone that thinks they could speak to Y/N.” Muichiro scoffs. And he was supposed to be the one with memory issues.

You get up from your cushioned seat and nod your head at the two (now bickering, more on Genya’s side than Muichiro) boys. You place a hand on both of their heads and it silences them. “You two are so cute.” you tell them. “Makes me wish I had younger siblings.” your eyes glance outside. You were going to have to save Shinra from Sanemi’s torture right about now.

You bow and excuse yourself and make your way out the shoji doors just as Sanemi swings a wooden sword Shinra’s way. “Sanemi!” you call, eyes glaring at the man. “Leave Shinra alone! We’ve come here for lunch not to train!”

Shinra’s able to dodge Sanemi’s attack by the grace of God, sweat pooling down his forehead and whimpering for whoever to save him.

Sanemi stops his attack and turns to you. You appeared to be upset, eyebrows knitted to a scowl. Your arms are crossed and for a split second his eyes flicker to your breast pressed together. 

“Shinra, let’s finish up your lunch, yeah?” you tell the boy who nods his head, far too excited to be away from the white haired maniac. 

As Shinra enters the house once more, your eyes turn to Sanemi. “What’s that about?”

Sanemi drops his wooden swords and goes to make his way back into his home. You step in front of the man. “You can’t keep harassing the slayers. They’re terrified of you!”

Sanemi scoffs. “If they’re terrified of me then a demon would have their fucking heads.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a scary man.” 

Sanemi tilts his head and crosses his own arms. “You aren’t afraid of me.”

“Of course not.” you give him a teasing smile. “You’re nice when I’m around.”

Sanemi grumbles; maybe that’s why others would rather you be present if they had to approach him. 

“Promise me,” you begin, coming closer to him. You take his large, calloused hands in your soft ones. “That you won’t keep harassing the slayers. Especially Shinra and Genya.”

Sanemi groans. He likes the soft and gentleness of your hands on his own.

“I can’t promise that.” Sanemi says. “They all enjoy pissing me off.”

You giggle. “But they avoid you!” you exclaim. “Just try.”

Sanemi nods his head with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever.” he mumbles.

You wrap your pinky around his longer one, a tint of mischief in your eyes. “Swear.”

“Swear.” Sanemi murmurs. “Whoever lies will be made to swallow a thousand needles.” the two of you say in unison, a wide smile on your lips and a low one on his.

“CAW! Y/L Y/N is to report to Chiyoda City! A demon has been sighted in the Shrine!” Hiyori soars above you, her wings flapping.

Your eyes widen and you stand to your feet excitedly. “We’re going on a mission? Our first mission!” you were ready for a mission the same day you were given your nichirin sword.- a long sword with a black handguard that wraps right above your hand, offering an amazing grip. The blade is long and shiny against the bright sun - an emerald color shining down the sharpest part of the blade.

“Sanemi’s doing his rounds. I’m sad he wasn’t home to hear.” you feel saddened, but this was your moment to make him proud and assure that you’d come back safe. 

You make your journey out of the estate with Hiyori flying above you, leading the way. You’re pumping with excitement that it’s ridiculous. You were going head first to a demon - but you were bouncing with joy as if you were meeting your husband. You were just ecstatic to kill as many demons as you could and work your way up the ranks. You heard the amount of people wishing to become Hashira, but you’re content not being one. The 9 Hashira you’ve met were more than amazing at their jobs.

You reach the area in the middle of the night, the moon shining brightly and the area quietly. The air appears to be murky and foggy, a low fog that’s nearly blinding. You slow your walk, drawing your blade while your eyes scan the area. 

A sound to your left heightens your senses. More sounds from your right, above and even forward you. Small figures appear, no taller than toddler sizes. They’re demons - eyes black and soulless. There’s scars oozing blood beneath both of their eyes and there's a shadowy smoke that surrounds them as they push closer to you. As they come closer, you note that they appear to be floating rather than walking.

You raise your sword and swing when one shadowy figure lungs at you. You slice at their head, cutting off each one with swift movements - but they appear to never stop coming. It’s as though as soon as you kill one, five more come sprinting after you. Each shadowy figure has their own weapon - a knife, sword, cutlass.

“That man despises you.” a gravelly voice hisses behind you. The shadowy figures disappear and you’re left in complete silence.

You turn around, eyes glaring into the darkness. “Show yourself!” you call into said darkness.

Your feet walk stealthy behind the shrine where what appears to be a large pond is located. The water is still; unnerved. 

“You’re nothing to him!” the same voice hisses, this time besides you and now you sense it. A hand slams against your cheek and you’re sent flying towards the pond. It wasn’t deep, luckily, and you managed to keep your sword clenched into your hands. 

You leep from the pond just as the demon lunges at you. It appears to be a woman. She’s tall, appearing just a few inches smaller than Uzui. Her eye sockets are wide but they’re soulless, no pupils in sight. Her hair is long and flowy behind her, but appears to be wet and stringy. Her skin is a dull gray color and she’s snarling at you.

“Look at you,” the demon snarls, her fingernails gnawing at her skin. “So young and beautiful. No man will ever respect such a whore!”

The demon lunges at you once more and you manage to cut her hand off, long claws falling onto the ground below you. 

A loud, blood curdling scream echoes off the trees, coming from the demon. The sound is unbearable and you’re sure the demon is causing your ears to bleed. 

You got to your knees. 

“What would your father think seeing you now?” a voice says. 

“What about your mother? Your brother?”

The atmosphere appears colder now, the screams of the demon growing louder and louder. 

“What do you think Sanemi would think of you once you die here?” the screams appear louder and you’re certain your ears are bleeding. “When you die here tonight, you will be forgotten - just like your father forgot about you.”

You can feel the anger inside of you bubbling at the taunting words of the demon. “Come with me, I’ll put you out of your miserable misery.”

You lift your sword, trying your hardest to ignore the ringing in your ear. The demon flings itself at you and in one quick movement, you’re dodging its attack and slicing off her other hand. You get to your feet, sprinting towards the Demon. It wails loudly once more, but you ignore the painful ringing in your ears. “Wind Breathing: Second Form!” you lift the sword upwards towards the right and above your head. You release four vertical slashes resembling claws towards the demon. “Claws-Purifying Wind!”

You dash towards the Demon as your attack slashes them, black blood oozing out from their wounds. You make it your mission to get rid of this demon once and for all, raising your sword and bringing it down on the demon's neck. 

You drop to your feet, eyes on the demon's head a few feet away.The screaming releasing from its throat grows silent by the second as the head begins to disintegrate. 

It takes you a moment to move, your mind racing at the words the demon said.

That man despises you.

No man will ever respect a whore.

When you die here, you’ll be forgotten.

You sheathe your sword and begin to walk. Your ears are ringing as you make your way back towards your destination, Hiyori flying above you. By the time you’d return, the sun will be present and you’d hope to come face to face with Sanemi once more. You’ve grown close to the man and it causes you great shame to know that the words of the demon got to you; causing your heart to ache. You no longer cared about your fathers thoughts about you; you dealt with the man for years and his harsh ways. But the thought of Sanemi - someone you considered to be a great friend, even someone you loved dearly - forgetting about you; despising you. 

You exhale, deciding to pick up your pace to get back to the estate - and Sanemi - faster.

Sanemi’s sword slices against the tatami mat, slicing with ease. His mind is on you and when you are due to return. He’s upset that you were set on a mission - your first one at that - while he was out on his own. He’s positive that you were ecstatic and jumping with joy - it causes his heart to beat harder. He regrets not being there to send you off, even when his nerves screams at him to find you.

You’re an adult, he tells himself.

You’re now a slayer, fully capable of fighting low-level demons.

But still, you were someone he cared about.

Sanemi cannot keep his mind at ease when Genya is away on missions, now that he has you and his brother on his mind, he’s sure he’ll never find peace. 

Sorai, Sanemi’s crow, flocks his wings and places himself on a sliced tatami mat. The words released from the crows mouth has Sanemi’s eyes widening and his blood going cold.

Rengoku.

Dead.

Kyojuro is dead.

Sanemi’s right hand clenches his sword in his palm.

“I will annihilate all unsightly demons.” he hisses, turning away to make his way out of his home. His heart is pumping out his chest now and his nerves are screaming.

Kyojuro was a Hashira - a skilled one. What did that mean for you and Genya? You were out on a mission as we speak, too far away to know of Kyojuro’s death but that doesn’t ease his nerves one bit. He feels jittery. His mind is wandering to you fighting whatever demon you were sent out to and returning with serious injuries. His heart clenches when his mind flashes with you covered in blood, body lifeless. 

“Sorai!” Sanemi hisses and his crow squawks. “Go find Y/N.”

Sorai flocks his wings and begins his journey. Lilac eyes follow him until he’s nothing but a mere figure in the sky. 

Sanemi inhales deeply and exhales. He runs a calloused hand through his hair and down his face. He notices that his hand is trembling lightly with nerves.

You release a low sigh when you notice the familiar sight of the Butterfly Mansion. Your body aches and your ears are still ringing, but you manage to make it in one piece.

“CAW!”

Sharp feet landed upon your head.You hiss at the impact, wailing your hands around. “Sorai?” you murmur. “Where’s Sanemi?” you ask the crow. 

“Shinazugawa-sama has sent me to assure your safety!” the crow squawks.

You find yourself grinning. You pet the crows head lightly. “Yes, I’ve arrived safely.” you tell him. “I’m going to the Butterfly Mansion to assure my injuries aren’t severe.���

Sorai squawks again, wings flapping to fly and give the news to Sanemi.

You enter the mansion to find it surprisingly quiet.

“Y/N-chan!”

It’s Naho. She’s crying at the sight of you - did you look that bad?

“I’ll go get Aoi! Shinobu-san is busy.”

You follow behind her to the infirmary. You’re glad you can finally lay down and relax.

You enter the room and groan. You fell onto the nearest bed and sighed.

“You must be in such pain.” Aoi murmurs, eyeing the way your ears hold dried blood. 

“Little bit.” you mumble a response. “Just feel a little…tired.” you close your eyes, lids feeling heavy.

“Okay. You can sleep,Y/N-chan. I’ll give you some medicine for your wounds.”

You’re into a deep sleep by the time you hear Aoi’s words. It felt nice to be able to relax for now and not worry about anything.

Sanemi slams the shoji doors open, causing several nurses to yelp in surprise. 

“Shinazugawa!” Aoi growls, eyebrows knitting into a scowl. “How many times-”

“What happened to her?”

Aoi watches with angered eyes as Sanemi stalks towards your sleeping figure.

Sanemi lowers himself to inspect you. There’s a few scratches on your skin and blood (dried) on the sides of your ears.

“She passed out around 10 minutes ago.” Aoi responds. “Now leave, she needs-”

Sanemi sits on the bed beside yours, deciding to ignore Aoi altogether. Aoi scoffs. She turns her head to the other nurses and nods. They continue to scurry off out of the room. 

“I’ll be back with some medicine for her.” Aoi grumbles and makes her way out of the room.

Sanemi allows himself to breathe now. When Sorai had come back to him and stated that you had returned safely but at the Butterfly Mansion, he had to be sure you were safe. 

It was three hours later when you finally stirred awake. You feel groggily and your eyes are heavy. You yawned, pushing yourself up in the bed. 

“You’re awake.”

You yelp at the sudden voice. “Nemi.” 

Sanemi’s arms are crossed over his chest, eyes studying you.

“How long have you been here?”

Sanemi shrugs. “Not too long.” Sanemi responds. He hasn’t left since you were emitted. 

“Ah,” you lean against the metal frame. “I’ve returned from my mission.”

You’re smiling tiredly at him.

“My heart feels so full and heavy. My mind cannot focus on anything.” you explain. “It’s all so overwhelming to return alive and well.”

“Your ears are bleeding. Are you sure you’re well?”

“Yes.” you nod. “The demon was a very loud screamer.” you giggle to yourself. 

Sanemi swallows. He’s unsure how he was going to tell you about Kyojuro. You’ve grown close to the man and learning of his death would cause you great sorrow, and he didn’t like to see you upset or sad. 

“Nemi?”

“Kyojuro…” Sanemi begins. “...went on a mission before you had. He didn’t make it.”

You tilt your head, ears registering his words. 

“Kyojuro…is dead?” you swallow, throat dry.

It feels foolish to cry for someone knowing that this life was never guaranteed. You’ve grown close to him, sometimes speaking with him whenever you were free. 

“Nemi…” you trail off, feeling your eyes become wet. You feel for Kyojuro and his family and it even feels selfish of you to be scared for Sanemi’s life now. Kyojuro was a Hashira just like Sanemi and if he was ultimately brought to death…

Your legs ache, but you do not hesitate to jump from your bed to where Sanemi sat. You wrapped him in a tight embrace, wet eyes crushing into his neck.

Sanemi’s shocked by your actions. He didn’t know Kyojuro’s death would impact you this much.

You sniffled in his neck. “I don’t want you to ever be in harm's way.” you murmur. Sanemi, Genya, Shinra…you didn’t want to see death for anyone apart from the Corps. 

Sanemi gulps. He places an arm around you to bring you closer. He doesn’t usually touch you - sober, that was - but you were always clingy. He wants to comfort you, to tell you that everything would be alright. He wants to tell you that he wasn’t going to die - but he doesn’t wish to disappoint you with false promises he couldn’t guarantee. 

Sanemi doesn’t speak as he holds onto you, but he’s positive that he too does not wish you to ever be in harm's way - he’s unsure if he would be able to live with himself if you or Genya didn’t come back from a mission alive.

The next few months consist of you and Sanemi attending missions alongside one another, sometimes with other slayers. You want to question why you haven’t been on a solo mission, but you don’t. You assume after Kyojuro’s death, that the Corps would rather keep lower ranks with higher ones, but you cannot be 100% sure. 

However, you wouldn’t complain about being sent out with Sanemi. He was more of a guide, making sure nothing got too hectic for you - and it never did. He allowed you to behead any demons that you saw and the mission was complete. Then the two of you would return back to the estate until the next mission.

Weekly, you would have lunch that you’d cook with Sanemi, Genya, Shinra and Muichiro (whenever they weren’t sent on missions). Sanemi managed to bite his tongue and instead would grumble to himself, but it was progress. You enjoyed cooking for them and saw the three younger boys as little brothers.

Sanemi drew the line when you invited more - Tanjiro was such a lovely boy that you couldn’t help but want to feed him. With Tanjiro came Zenitsu and Inosuke - a brawl ensued when Inosuke insulted Sanemi and Genya retorted, both teenagers throwing insults and punches. But you enjoyed the lunch, nonetheless.

“We have another mission.” Sanemi says during breakfast. “Hiyori delivered it while you were bathing.”

“Ah, is that so?” you bring the sweet potato in your mouth and bite. 

Sanemi nods. “A Hashira is to be present. Me.” he says. “More slayers are attending, as well. We were told to pack a bag - it might take longer than we expect.”

You nod and when the two of you are done with breakfast, you go to pack your bag. It can be classified as an undercover mission, so casual wear is expected. 

It’s not long that you, Sanemi and a group of slayers are making your journey to Shinjuku, expected to arrive right in the evening. Sanemi wasn’t one to make stops, so you managed to pack a few snacks for the long way.

Once you arrive to Shinjuku you’re relieved. The sun was barely shining and you just wanted to find whatever demon was here and kill it. Seeing as the lot of you were expected to be undercover, you’re sure it wouldn’t work out that way.

“You,” Sanemi points to a group of 5 slayers. “find an inn and see what you can gather about our mission.”

The five slayers bow and head on their way. Sanemi’s turns his eyes to another four. “You do the same in the opposite direction.”

There's only you, him and two slayers left - one girl named Sumire and a boy by the name of Roshi. “There’s an inn on the outskirts of Shinjuku. We’ll head there, find a room and change. The sun will fall soon and we’ll have to investigate whatever demon lurks here.”

The inn wasn’t far and a ten minute walk has you four arriving there. It appears to be the nicest Inn in the city for it to be such a long distance from it. 

“Welcome in!” a woman behind the counter eyes the four of you, her eyes recognizing the uniform displayed. “Two rooms?”

“Four.” Sanemi corrects.

“Ah…” the woman leans forward, eyes staring at Sanemi’s chest, a grin formed onto her lips. “I apologize, sir, but we only do couples in Shinjuku.”

Sanemi scoffs. “What type of shit is that?” he hisses. He’s never heard of an entire city only catering to couples.

“We’re known as a honeymoon retreat here.” the lady shrugs. “I do apologize for any inconvenience.”

“It’s fine.” you sigh. “I can room with Sumire-”

“Please don’t.” Roshi whimpers, shaking his head. He wanted to be nowhere near Sanemi - especially not when his annoyance was rising. “I’ll take the floor so Sumire can have the bed - really!”

“Then it’s settled. Two rooms for two couples.” the lady turns to grasp a set of keys in both manicured hands and she dangles them out for you all to grasp.

Sanemi snatches the key and scurries down the hall while Sumire takes the other.

“We’ll get settled, changed and make our way out for the night.” you tell Sumire and Roshi.

“Yes.” Sumire and Roshi reply in unison.

Sanemi slams the door shut as the two of you enter, dropping his bag onto the large bed. 

“The sun will be setting soon.” you note aloud. “Do we have a set plan?”

“There’s obviously something going on here.” Sanemi says. He removes a yukata from his belongings. “Shinjuku was not known to be a couples retreat - not until now.”

“Do you think whatever demons here are targeting couples?” you tilt your head to think. Eating two people would be smarter than one, but still, a demon was stronger than a regular civilian. “It seems to be a lot of effort on the demon's part.”

Sanemi shrugs. Whatever the demon was doing, he’d be sure to put an end to it. 

Sanemi and you roamed Shinjuku. It appeared bright even when the sun was down. You noticed that it indeed was a couples affair - you noticed no one walking alone. What also caught your attention was the lack of children present - or those who were older.

“You two look new here.”

Sanemi’s eyes flicker to the voice.

“We are.” you smile at them, inching closer to Sanemi.

“Oh! How long have you two been married?” the woman asks and now you’re unsure what to say. 

“Honeymoon.” Sanemi responds. “Was recommended by a friend.”

The woman nods her head. “It’s amazing here! We’ve been here twice already. Have you two been to…”

You await for her to continue, but her eyes look as if waiting for you to catch on.

“...Uh…?” you turn to Sanemi who doesn’t even look interested.

“The couples…brothel?”  the woman flushes bright red as she speaks, her husband laughing nervously.

“Couples brothel?”

Sanemi was intrigued now.

“Yes. You have to be approved first - we haven’t.”

“What do you do there?” you ask, unsure of what in the world this mission was going to put you through.

“If approved, you get to be doted on…” the woman is far too embarrassed to continue but you’re sure you get where she’s going.

“Ah.” you nod your head. “I never knew that was something.”

“Yes. It happens every day at a different inn.” the husband says.

“Today should be…”

Sanemi sighs. He has a guess of what inn it would be happening at.

“We have to go.” Sanemi says, stomping off. 

“Sorai.” Your eyes look into the sky at the flying bird. “Inform the other slayers of the demon. Tell them to patrol the streets and make sure no civilians are harmed.”

“Where are we-”

“Back to the Inn.” Sanemi answers your question before you can respond. “That woman insisted on couples because that’s how the demon feeds without getting caught.”

“She chooses her victims strategically.” you murmur. “Not everyone gets accepted.”

“She must know we’re slayers - or at least senses that there’s something off about us.” Sanemi picks up the pace. “Only way to find out…”

Sanemi wraps you in a tight embrace as you both enter the inn. It catches you by surprise - his sudden closeness.

“Hello!” a lady claps her hands at your arrival. “Are you guests here already?” it’s not the same woman as yesterday, you note. 

Sanemi nods his head, arms wrapped tightly around you. “Yes. We’re hoping we can join.”

The woman is nodding, quite aware of what Sanemi is asking of her. “You’re in luck. Our mistress had not yet chosen a couple.” she eyes the way you and Sanemi appear. “I’m positive we found a good choice in the two of you.”

Sanemi swallows. He’s unsure how, but she knows there’s something off about the two of you - you aren’t an ordinary couple. She’s no demon, he would know if she was. 

“Follow me,” the woman motions with her hand for the two of you to come.

You walk, as does Sanemi. He won’t admit it, but having your body against his makes him feel at ease; just knowing you’re close and away from harm.

The hallway is long and seemingly away from the other rooms of the inn. The lights grow dim the closer the three of you step. You were sure it had to do with the demon.

“Go right into the room. The mistress will be in shortly. There are refreshments inside, as well.” The woman slides open the doors and bows as you enter. “Do have some fun while you wait.” She shuts them and you hear her footsteps pat down the hall until they’re inaudible.

“Room’s nice.” your eyes scan around the room, appearing quite large in size and lights just as dim as the hallway.

Sanemi grunts but doesn’t say a response. He sits upon the mat, eyes scanning for any sign of the demon.

You take a seat besides him and inhale. The room was humid.

“Have your sword ready.” Sanemi murmurs. You’re seated besides him, far too close. His noses appear to be heightened, your aroma nearly intoxicating him. He swallows thickly.

“It’s fucking hot.” Sanemi hisses. “Where’s that bitch?”

You were beginning to feel the same way. Your kimono wasn’t tight, but it felt as if it was sticking to you. The air felt so heavy, humid and…you shiver, goosebumps erupting onto your skin.

“I feel weird.” you tell Sanemi after a long moment. 

Sanemi’s eyes turn to you besides him. He notes there’s sweat lining your forehead and you’re panting lightly. Your legs are shuffling together, hands clenching in your lap. He notes that in the midst of your anxious state, you loosened your kimono and beneath it shows your uniform - the same uniform you wore when he gifted you his haori. He’d scream and berate the perverted kakushi for a new uniform just for you to wear both, stating that you didn’t want to be a bother. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the way you looked in it, not at all. He enjoyed it too much, often finding his eyes and mind wandering to places they shouldn’t. 

“You should drink something.” Sanemi tears his eyes away from you to eye the refreshments besides them. There isn’t any water, just wine, but it’ll have to do. “Just enough so you won’t feel parched.”

You nod your head. You wouldn’t be off your game after a sip of wine. You reach for the wine besides Sanemi, a low apology when your arm touches his. It sends a jolt throughout him, this time reaching lower than his heart. 

Sanemi’s eyes are shameless now. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s watching you. Your hands are shaking as you take the bottle of wine in your hands. You unscrew it and begin to pour. “W-Would you like some?”

Sanemi blinks at the sound of your voice, but he nods. He takes the small, silver goblet from your trembling hands and nods his thanks. He drinks the wine in one swift movement, downing it while his eyes watch yours. He was sure he could have another, and another as long as you served him. 

You aren’t as fast as Sanemi. You smell the wine first before going in to take a sip. It’s good - expensive too. You find yourself drinking the wine keen, enjoying the refreshing taste it gives.

Sanemi’s eyes watch as the wine, a crimson red color, drips from the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, to your chin and drips onto your collarbone. It teases him, he thinks, as it slowly drips onto your exposed breasts.

Sanemi licks his lips and groans. He yanks the wine bottle and pours himself another and downs it. He goes to pour himself another one, but he feels a hand on his wrist.

“You’re going to drink it all.” you say, voice laced with mischief. 

Sanemi inhales. The room was growing hotter.

Sanemi pours the wine, but this time he doesn’t drink it. He lifts it to your own lips, tapping them so you’d open them. You do, gently drinking the wine from his hands. You couldn’t contain the laughter coming from your throat as you do so, the wine splashing onto your kimono.

Sanemi feels hot all over again, his uniform beneath his yukata growing tighter. 

“Nemi?”

Sanemi gulps. “Hm?”

“Do you think I’m hot?”

Sanemi coughs at your question, flushing. 

Why was the room growing hotter?

Why does his clothes feel like they’re sticking to him?

Sanemi was growing confused by the second - why were the two of you even in this room?

“Why do you ask?” Sanemi drops the goblet.

“Because you never say it.” Were you intoxicated now? You didn’t appear to be, your words weren’t slurring and your vision didn’t appear hazy. “Are you attracted to me?” Sanemi feels you come closer. He’s stiff - you had to be drunk. You’re pushing off your kimono, now just only in the revealing corp uniform. He gasps when you climb into his lap, both legs trapping him beneath you.

“You look scared.” You were teasing him. You sit directly onto him, the bulge of his cock twitching when he feels the heartbeat that’s your pussy. “You’re supposed to be the fearless Wind Hashira.”

Sanemi places his hands against your exposed thighs and groans at the smoothness of your skin. He’d often wake from dreams of you and him being in this very position - he’d either have to shower with the coldest water or pump himself until he was cumming. The last option was the most embarrassing. 

“Are you afraid of me?” you’re teasing him again, repeating the same words he said to you in Asakusa. Though he wasn’t pressing himself against you like this, he wouldn’t complain either.

Sanemi groans once more at the feeling of you slightly grinding against him. 

Yes, Sanemi was afraid of you. You made him feel different - the jolting in his heart that dives all the way down to his cock. He often finds himself staring at you, so long that his eyes grow dry and he has to blink just to regain moisture. He often has to hear Uzui’s and Shinobu’s teasing of his feelings for you, no matter how much he attempts to deny it himself.

“No.” Sanemi murmurs, even if it was a lie. 

“Then kiss me.” you lean forward, inches away from Sanemi’s lips. He gulps, licking his lips. Your lavender aroma fills his nostrils and he finds all the sanity he had left gone. 

Sanemi presses his lips against yours, his fingernails digging into the skin of your thigh. He doesn’t want to let you go - whatever this was he doesn’t want it to end. All that clouds his thoughts now were you - your scent, your touch, the sound of you. It intoxicates him that whatever the two of you were initially supposed to be doing in this room has since been forgotten. 

You feel your throat tighten and you’re being lifted. Your eyes shoot open and you’re gasping for air, eyes watching someone - you? It wasn’t you.

The demon had taken the form of you now, leaning against a panting Sanemi. He’s in a trance, you note, not noticing that he was now in the hands of the demon. Her eyes look up at you once for a second and now, your blood is running cold. ‘Lower Rank Six’ engraved into her eyes. 

You struggle to get yourself loose. It’s obvious that the demon has Sanemi in a trance and you were the one that needed to behead the bitch.

“Thank you for bringing me a Hashira.” the demon cackles. “I can show my lord that I am capable of killing a Hashira and then I’ll work my way up. He has given me a second chance just for this moment!”

You struggle against a hooked tail, but manage to get one arm loose to unsheathe your sword. You swipe at it, slashing it so you can release yourself. “Get away from him!”

The demon’s eyes widen but she then laughs. “I’m sorry I have to consume your lover.” she taunts. “Virgins don’t know what to do with a man.” the demon taunts. The air appears to be foggy and once again you feel hot with desire. 

“You’re nothing but a demon that’s going to die here.” you spit at her.

The demon shrieks at your words. “Such a disgusting human! You don’t deserve to be in my presence!”

You swipe your sword to dodge her attack. You needed to get this over with now before you wasted any more time. Your mind was fogging with whatever she’s done, an obvious demon blood art. 

“You’re nothing but a weak lower moon.” you spat back at her with the same venom. 

The demon hisses and sends an array of attacks with her hooked tail. “Wind Breathing: Third Form:” you proceed to release a whirlwind of slashes around you to defend yourself from her attack.”Clean Storm Wind Tree!”  Your eyes focus on her neck - you had to finish her off now. You raise your sword and slash it across her neck, a clean swipe that cuts the demon’s head right off. 

The demon screams at her sudden defeat, but another gush of fog surrounds the entirety of the room just as her head and body harshly crash onto the ground. 

You drop your sword beside you, making your way to Sanemi. His eyes are closed and he appears to be asleep.

“Nemi?” you call, falling to your knees. You place a hand upon his cheek and flinch when his eyes dart open. “Nemi…”

Your words trailed off and neither of you talked, only stared at the other. The room was boiling now, sweat pooling off of your body. You were sure you’d hear a pin drop with how silent the room remained.

“We should…go…” you managed to speak, but it was difficult. Your throat is dry and your ears are beginning to ring. Your clothing is uncomfortable and tight, sticking to your skin like glue. “Nemi…I-I don’t feel good.” you admit to him after another few moments of tortured silence. Your legs are beginning to clench together, the friction feeling good, an electric shock between your legs. 

You knew this feeling, you were no prude. You were sexually frustrated. There was no doubt a wet spot between your legs and the friction of your thighs clenching together brought a temporary satisfaction. You would admit that you touched yourself often when you needed to just to let loose and unwind, but that frustration wasn’t anywhere near how you felt now. 

You scoff bitterly to yourself. To think you endured hellish training to become a slayer just for sexual frustration to be your downfall.

“Let’s go.” Sanemi nods, head heavy. “We need to get our stuff from the room.”

Standing is difficult for Sanemi. His clothing is tight and there’s an obvious bulge in his uniform pants. He allows you to lead the way, his sane mind screaming to not stare at the way your ass moves, but he doesn’t care. He was a man, after all, a man drugged by a demon. He wants to laugh at the circumstances.

The woman is nowhere to be found when you pass the front end of the inn. You assumed she was nothing but a pawn for the demon and was left alive as long as she offered her humans to consume.

Entering the bedroom, you close the shoji doors behind you and Sanemi.

“I hope everyone else is alright.” you murmur to yourself, leaning against the door. “We should probably be heading out-” You stop speaking once you realize Sanemi’s hands are clenching his hair tightly. His chest is rising and falling and he appears to be in pain.

“Nemi-” you reach out to touch him, but Sanmi harshly pushes you away. Your eyes widen at the sudden action. “I-I…are you in pain? I-”

“Leave, Y/N.” Sanemi’s gruff voice startles you. “Go to Kocho and take the slayers with you.”

“I can’t leave you here.” you say. You’re ashamed that his voice turns you on. You hold the edge of your uniform skirt. “You’re in pain-”

“You know I’m not in pain!” Sanemi hisses. His tone would have anyone else cowering, but here you stood with wide (heart) eyes and clenching thighs. “You know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

You gulp at his words.

“I’m trying my hardest not to fuck you against the wall.” Sanemi stares at your face. “Leave. Now.”

Sanemi turns away from you and you’re shocked by his choice of words. You’re certain the demon art is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you. 

But…there it was. The sensation pooling between your legs - the heartbeat taunting you. His words made you wet, you note. It was a warning - don’t come closer, don’t keep trying to help; run away before he’d do something that he wouldn’t do normally. It’s a sort of adrenaline rush to be playing with fire.

“I can help you.” you gulp. You decide to step closer to him and wrap your hands onto his bicep. “I want-”

Sanemi’s fast in his action, gripping your jaw to press a firm kiss upon your lips. He’s holding back, you know, not wishing to hurt you. He knows you haven’t done this before and the sane part of him wants to stop - to not take you while he cannot control himself. “You need to leave, Y/N.” Sanemi’s pleading with you now. He didn’t want to have your first time like this. He’s trembling, all ounce of strength fighting animalistic urges. He almost feels nauseous, mind flashing in all the ways he could take you right now - how vulnerable you’d be beneath him and how good you’d look stuffed with his seed.

Sanemi shakes his head aggressively, wanting to get rid of the perverted thoughts of you, but he cannot. It’s humiliating to think that these thoughts were there before, but with the demon art, it’s completely unbearable. 

You were always the stubborn one, never heeding warning. You raise a hand to place it upon his yukuta. You clench it to pull him forward to press your lips upon his once more. Sanemi’s breathing intensifies in the kiss and still, there’s a little part in him that’s holding back the urges to completely demolish you like the demon art (and him, as well) desired. 

“Let me help you, Nemi. It doesn’t matter how long it takes!” you’re pleading with him now, heavily panting when you release his lips for oxygen. You’re also affected by the demon art, even if your own desires were buried deep. “You’d help me so much. I can do the same.” The sound of your begs drive Sanemi wild, his mind refusing to stop sending the illusions of you in different, perverted positions until he acts upon them.

Sanemi’s hands reach out to touch you, bringing you closer to him. You’re against his chest and when his hands sneak out to touch the curves of your body, he knows he won’t be able to stop. 

Stop - Sanemi tells himself.

You'll regret this.

He’d regret this.

He’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state - this isn’t you, this is the demon art.

You want this - another part of his brain denies the sane part of him. There’s an internal dialogue happening right in his mind.

He wanted this. He’d always wanted this.

He wanted to be deep inside of you - so deep that there wasn’t a way you couldn’t not be impregnated.

You’d be his and his alone - you’d give him the family he desired.

“Nemi, please…”

Sanemi doesn’t hold back any longer, fully succumbing to the demon art that’s blinding his best judgment. Your back slams against the futon, sending shocks all over your body, but you aren’t upset at Sanemi’s sudden change in demeanor. His hands are ripping at your uniform, not caring about any damage it causes. He shudders when his hands finally manage to touch you. The countless times he would touch himself to any little amount of skin you showed him - and now you were nearly nude before him.

Sanemi never wanted to thank a demon before in his life.

You’re moaning when Sanemi’s lips kiss along your neck, tongue trailing along as he does so. His hands are groping your breast, the bandages binding them are ripped apart in seconds and they spring free.

Sanemi’s face is between your breasts in seconds, kissing sloppily. You’re so beautiful. He wanted to admire your beauty as much as he could - there was no going back now and who knows what would happen when the demon art wore off. But Sanemi couldn’t slow his pace now, you made him delirious.

Your body jerks when you feel a warm, wet sensation on your nipples. Sanemi’s tongue suckles on your left while his thumb tugs on the right. It causes you to moan louder, the feeling foreign and you never wanted it to end. 

It wasn’t soon until Sanemi had you fully naked before him. He’s in awe, truly, eyes completely blown out. It’s unclear to him how he could still manage to hold back completely being barbaric when it comes to the sight of you, but maybe it’s the respect he held dear to his heart for you.

Sanemi’s lips kiss down your breast, to your stomach down to your abdomen. He pushes your legs apart and swallows when he catches sight just how wet you were.

You squirm under Sanemi’s gaze, unsure what he was doing. You go to close your legs but Sanemi only pushes them apart further.

“N-Nemi!” you gasp once you feel his tongue flat against your clit. It’s a weird feeling of euphoria that has your eyes rolling. “S-stop!” you’re struggling against Sanemi’s tongue, doing everything in your power to get him to stop. “I can’t take anymore, Nemi…”

Sanemi doesn’t care about your babblings. Your taste intoxicates him just like your scent does. Your moans are so sweet, like his favorite tune playing again and again in his ears. His fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh and he’s bobbing his head back and forth over and over again until you’re sobbing.

Sanemi lifts his head from your swollen clit and licks his lips. He’s hovering above your twitching form and even now as you’re overstimulated with pleasure and sobbing, he cannot bring himself to stop. 

“Nemi…”

Sanemi presses three fingers against your clit, rubbing tauntingly. “You can take it.” he encourages. After all, if you cannot handle his tongue and fingers, how’d you ever handle his cock?

Sanemi rubs a few more times before his fingers inch inside of you. His lips are kissing along your face, kissing along at the tears of pleasure. 

You’re tight and it excites Sanemi. Knowing that he would be the one to deflower you - be the first (and preferably only) man you’d been with. It causes goosebumps to litter his skin.

The feeling of Sanemi’s fingers inside of you hurts - you’ve never done so before. He isn’t going slow either to allow you to adjust, he’s pumping with such force that it compels you into pleasure. 

“I feel weird, Nemi…” you’re panting, feeling the bubbling feeling deep in your stomach. “Stop, I-I don’t wanna cum like this.” your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him - even if Sanemi refuses. “I wanna feel you around me when I do.”

Sanemi’s cock twitches at your words, but he wastes no time.

With hooded eyes, you watch as Sanemi undresses. You hadn’t realized just how clothed he was while you laid completely bare. 

Sanemi’s body was beautiful, chiseled muscles sculpting his entire body. You flush at the sight of his completely nude body - cock erect. Your legs twitch with nervousness..

Sanemi hovers above you. There’s a flash in his eyes - you notice. His forehead is pressed against yours and for a moment his eyes are soft, no longer harboring the feral reaction.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” he murmurs to you. It’s the voice that belonged to Sanemi - not the one under the demon art, but the man that you trained alongside for a year.

You didn’t have the chance to respond. Sanemi is entering you now and your hands go to clench his biceps harshly. It doesn’t hurt him, of course, but the pressure for you is nearly unbearable. Your legs wrap around him tight, hoping he wouldn’t move too soon.

You inhale deeply, trembling with the newfound pain. Sanemi is big - but any cock would be for you. You just hoped Sanemi wasn’t far too gone in the demon’s spell and wouldn’t hurt you too much.

Sanemi’s patience was slowly breaking. He found himself grinding into her for any sort of friction or pleasure. There’s only so much a man like him could take, his mind kept replaying the countless ways he could take you right now and he was truly fighting an internal battle. 

Sanemi thrusted out of you fully to thrust back in. You released a surprised wail, eyes shutting tight. Your fingernails would be another scar left upon his skin.

“I can’t take it.” you cry out, walls completely sore by taking his cock in you fully. The pressure was unbearable and by the looks of the man, he appeared utterly insatiable. 

“You can.” Sanemi’s voice is so raspy and deep that you were positive he was far gone. He continues to thrust deep inside of you that your back hits the futon with each thrust. He’s strong - far stronger than you’d ever hope to be - and getting him to stop was going to be difficult.

You felt the hot tears pool down your cheeks. You were being stretched out far too much for you to keep your composure. You were clenching around him so heavenly that he never wanted to stop - never wanted to be out of you; without you.

“Nemi, please…”

Sanemi’s hips buckled and he halts his movements. 

Keep going - the voice in his mind tells him.

But it’s your sadden pleas that has his sanity coming back - just for a moment. He witnesses your tears falling and his heart aches - was he the one making you cry?

Sanemi goes to pull himself out, but you stop him. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer to you. His chest is against yours while your lips lined up against his ears. You’re panting, attempting to catch your breath and adjust to his size. 

Sanemi’s arms wrap around your body, the intimate moment was one he wished he could remain in forever; never wishing to let you go. 

“Nemi?”

You clench around him and Sanemi hums a response. You loosen your hold onto him, a signal that you wanted him to continue. 

Sanemi grinds inside of you, his hold on you only growing tighter. He’s deep, never wishing to be anywhere else but inside of you. He picks up his pace, noticing how your cries were becoming moans. 

This is what sex felt like. The pain was slowly subsiding and the pleasure was taking over. You can hear the way your pussy sounds against his pumping cock - wet and inviting, satiating his hunger for you. 

Sanemi releases his hold on you to lean back. His eyes are hooded as he watches the way your breast bounces. He picks up the pace, cock sliding in and out of you - rougher, deeper, faster.

So beautiful, Sanemi thinks. So beautiful and his - all his. The dark thoughts were coming back with each passing second and his sanity was losing to the demonic spell. 

You yourself felt whatever sanity you had left was now leaving. You no longer cared if Sanemi was hurting you or not - what you did know was that now you felt good; so good. His cock pumps inside of you at an alarming pace that would even be considered pleasurable if you weren’t receiving it. 

Sanemi’s hands grip your breast so tightly that he's sure they would leave marks. His eyes fixated on the bulge of your stomach, mind racing with the thought of you round and pregnant with his child. He allows one hand to leave your breast to cup your stomach, rubbing lightly as he fucks you.

“I can’t wait to fuck a baby in you.”

Sanemi’s words would cause you to gasp if you weren’t caught in the moment. Your mind was fucked out with how good he’s fucking you that a baby didn’t seem bad - how the two of you forgotten about the world full of demons and the mission you were currently on.

“Get you nice and pregnant. I’ll take care of you.” He’s now hitting your g-spot as he speaks, eyes completely blown out with pleasure. Your knees are touching your shoulders and you’re positive you’ve never been this flexible before. “I’ll take care of all of our kids.”

You’re crying beneath him, pleasure overwhelming. Your sobs don’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t care. He’ll fuck you until he was done - fuck you until he was sure you were pregnat with the child he was promising you.

“I want them to look just like you. So perfect.” Sanemi moans at the thought of you full of cum, round with his child.

You’re cumming, writhing beneath him. You’re soaking the futon beneath the two of you, but neither of you care. Sanemi was on a mission - a rampage. Nothing was going to stop him from achieving his perverted dreams.

Sanemi cums deep inside of you, twitching as he does so. He’s panting while sweat pools off of his skin and onto yours.

Sanemi wants more.

He flips you over, face burning into the futon. He enters you like an animal, continuing the brutal pace. He’s fucking into you deeper, your screams echoing off the room walls. If anyone was inside the inn, neither of you cared. He almost wished someone was listening so they could hear how good he was fucking you.

You’re drooling. You could no longer focus on anything but the cock inside of you - and even then you wanted more. Was this what heaven felt like? Paradise? To be stuff so good but the man you adored that you never wanted it to end?

How could you go back to pleasuring yourself when Sanemi knew how to do it so wonderfully?

Sanemi filled you again - three more times before he changed the position. He brought you on top of him and fucked into you, not allowing you any control. The stamina of a Hashira was amazing. He fucked you like a ragdoll, but you had no complaints.

His fucking dragged on majority of the night - against the wall, in his arms, on your back, on your side - every position he deemed fuckable, he had you in.He would hiss such dirty worlds in your ears that you’d convulse into a cumming mess for him.

One things for certain - neither of you wanted this night to end.

Your legs ached, as did the entirety of your body. 

You stirred away, the sun from the open window blinding your eyes.

You push yourself up from the futon, the blanket you were wrapped in falling to expose your naked figure.

You were sore and one look at your appearance has your mind fluttering with memories.

“Nemi…?” you call out to nothing. You were alone in the room the two of you shared the night prior. You scanned the area to find no trace of him - not even his belongings.

Your legs tremble as you stand to your feet. You take nearly 10 minutes to get dressed, but you cannot be blamed. Your body is covered with bruises and marks that hiding it with Sanemi’s gifted haori was difficult, but manageable. 

You make your way out of the room, belongings in hand. You walk past the innkeeper who doesn’t say a word - a different woman from the first two you met the day prior. 

“CAW!”

Hiyori flies above you just as you exit the inn. If you had to guess, it was an hour before noon.

“Y/L Y/N is to report to the Butterfly Mansion for treatment! Y/L Y/N and others to the Butterfly Mansion!”

“Hiyori.” you call the crow, holding out your arm. “Where’s Sanemi?”

“Shinazugawa-sama has left on his own in the morning!”

Left.

Sanemi had left you here?

Alone?

“Y/N!”

It’s Sumire and Roshi, returning back to you appearing slightly disheveled. 

“W-What-”

“Don’t ask.” Sumire’s flushing bright red.

“Please.” Rochi murmurs and you notice none of them can look the other in the eye.

Your mind connects the dots.

You and Sanemi were not the only two subjected to the demon’s spell.

“Did you see Sanemi leave?” you ask the two slayers.

“Yes. Shinazugawa-sama took the others and left. We were told to wait for you.” Sumire exclaims. “Didn’t say much but to wait until you were up to head to the Butterfly Mansion.”

You nod your head. You swallow, heart aching with the realization that Sanemi had left you.

Had Sanemi regretted the night with you? Had he woke up disgusted with your actions that he didn’t even wish to look at you?

No.

Sanemi wasn’t like this. He didn’t run from his issues. He had to go to the Butterfly Mansion with the other slayers. You wouldn’t think too much into it.

But it was hard not to think too much into it, you think. The entire journey to the Butterfly Mansion had left you completely distracted by memories of the previous night and the nervousness of having to face the Wind Hashira once more. 

The Butterfly Mansion was hectic, nurses scurrying around to help while Kakushi lined up to do the same. You almost felt out of place coming here. You didn’t even have any scars from the attack with the demon and it appears Sumire and Roshi were alright, as well, only a bit awkward.

“Are you two alright?” you turn to the two slayers who nod, avoiding contact with the other. “The mission wasn’t as deadly as we expected. The Lower Moon-”

“Lower Moon?!” Roshi and Sumire gasp in unison with wide eyes. “There was a lower moon there?” Sumire questions. 

“We fought off a few demons but they weren’t strong. They might have been only a few years turned.”

You nod your head. “Yes.” you look between the two of them. “Her demon art was…powerful. Are you sure the two of you are alright?”

You see flashes in your mind of you and Sanemi together the entirety of the night.

“Yes.” Roshi’s cheeks are dusty red.

“Yea.” Sumire responds, as well. 

You nod your head and offer the two of them a soft smile. “Okay. Good job on the mission.” you tell them. “Please rest.”

Your eyes watch Sumire and Hoshi scurry away and you release an exhausted sigh. 

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps to the sound of your name. You bow to Shinobu who does the same. 

“Are you alright? I heard your mission was successful by Shinazugawa.”

You nod your head. “Yes. I returned just now.” you wondered what else Sanemi had told her. “It’s hectic here.”

“Indeed it is. Uzui has returned with Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu. An Upper Moon was defeated.”

Your eyes widen. “An Upper Moon? Are they safe?” you returned seemingly fine after your battle - if you can even call it that, the demon appeared far too weak to be considered a part of the 12 Kizuki. You couldn’t imagine fighting an Upper Moon.

“Recovering. They’re all fallen into coma’s but we’re positive they will recover.”

A sigh of relief comes from your lips. “Uzui-san? Is he here?”

“Was. He left hours before you returned. He has retired as a Hashira.”

You were sure your eyes were going to pop out their socket one of these days. The sudden information was hitting you at each possible angle. 

“I know you’ve grown attached to the younger slayers. Maybe you can come visit them once everything settles down.” Shinobu offers a smile. “Uzui is at his estate with his wives as if he didn’t lose an eye or hand. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

“Huh?!” your hands clench at - yet again - another sudden information. Uzui was a Hashira, so tall and muscular and extremely skilled. 

“Uzui is fine, truly. Rambling on about appearing even more flashy with an eyepatch.” Shinobu giggles slightly. “How are you, Y/N? Shinazugawa was here earlier but nothing appeared to be wrong with him or the others. I assume the same goes for you?”

You swallow and nod.

“Good.” Shinobu scans your appearance. You had the white haori that once belonged to Sanemi wrapped tightly around your frame. You showed no skin - which wasn’t exactly alarming, but you also never appeared so awkwardly nervous. 

Shinobu’s eyes are beautiful, so large and deep purple. Now, however, they seemed to be looking into your soul, searching for your deepest and darkest secrets.

“I should be going now, Shinobu-san.” you bow. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” she offers a curt wave. “I love the new glow you have to you.” that tone in her voice - you feel hot with embarrassment. She was teasing you.

“CAW!”

You haven’t been outside for more than five minutes before Hiyori returns. 

“Oyakata-sama has sent for you!”

“Ah.” you sigh deeply. “I suppose I can see what Oyakata-sama needs.”

You made your journey towards the Ubuyashiki Estate, Hiyori soaring above you. It doesn’t take long and upon entering you note that Oyakata has already been waiting for your appearance.

You bow in front of him. “Oyakata-sama. I have arrived.”

Kagaya offers a curt smile. “Y/L Y/N. It is nice to be in your presence once more.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Oyakata-sama.” 

You lift your head, knees remaining on the ground. 

“Congratulations on returning from your mission safely. You have defeated a Lower Moon.” Kagaya praises.

Your heart feels full to be praised. 

“Thank you, Oyakata-sama. But please, it was nothing. Uzui-san and the others are the true remarkable ones.” You still cannot fathom coming in the presence of such a remarkably strong demon. 

“You also deserve praise, Y/N.” Kagaya says. “You managed to defeat a Lower Moon. There’s many slayers who did not have the same fate.”

You nod to yourself. You suppose he was right.

“You would make an exceptional Wind Hashira if the title was not already occupied.” Kagaya compliments once more. “I am content that you, my child, are a part of the Corps.”

“Thank you, Oyakata-sama.” you say, standing to your feet. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” Kagaya said, but before  you could speak, he continued. “Sanemi has transformed for the better. I assume that it is your doing.”

You swallow at the sound of Sanemi’s name. You had yet to see him  and speak about what has happened during the mission.

“I cannot take responsibility for Shinazugawa-san’s credibility. He was always an amazing Hashira before me!”

Kagaya chuckles to himself lowly. “Indeed he was, my child. But behind every great man, there’s a partner. A woman like yourself.” Kagaya lightly pets the crow that sits beside him. His head remains straight forward, body unmoving. “Give yourself more grace, Y/N. You are free to go as you please. Thank you for speaking with me.”

“Y-Yes.” you inhale a response, bowing before turning away. “Thank you, Oyakata-sama.”

The master's words replay in your head as you make your way to Sanemi’s estate. You deserve praise, he said. You changed Sanemi for the better. Did you, though? Sanemi always appeared amazing to you - at any and everything he did. Sure he had a temper but it was never towards you. Maybe Sanemi had taken the swear the two of you made seriously.

Entering the mansion, you note just how quiet it was inside. Where was Sanemi? You knew he returned earlier in the day.

You decided to not dwell on it and bathe. You hadn’t had the chance to upon waking up, only a light wash up. Witnessing the bruises and bites littering your skin causes you to flush at the memory of you and Sanemi together.

Hours had passed since you bathed and since then you had managed to cook dinner for the two of you - Sanemi’s dish had sat cold. You pondered where he could possibly be - surely Oyakata-sama didn’t send him on another mission.

You began to feel as if Sanemi was purposely avoiding you. As days dragged on, you had yet to see him. You continued your training alone, not witnessing any sight of him. You would eat alone without him, always setting a plate down for him that he would eat whenever he did return while you were gone.

It was only when the second week dragged on did Sanemi return, though barely. You caught a glimpse of him entering the bathroom just as you finished dinner. You waited for him to enter, and when he finally had you were left disappointed. He didn’t spare you a glance, entering his bedroom and not exiting.

Weeksn dragged on and you noticed that you and Sanemi no longer attended missions together. Hiyori would come and deliver your own solo missions and you’d go - not having someone besides you had your heart yearning for company. 

While Sanemi obviously ignored you, you would often visit Uzui and his wives. You’d relax at the onsen with them while not on missions, often eating dinner. Uzui was not a fool to notice the look in your eyes - you were attempting to get your mind off of a certain white haired bastard.

You visited Inosuke and Zenitsu, offering them sweets while they trained and waited for Tanjiro to wake. You remained cooking for Shinra, Genya and Muichiro when the three were free, Sanemi’s place at the table untouched.

There was a shift that everyone noticed. Sanemi’s attitude was going back to what it once was - abrasive and rash. The slayers had to tiptoe around him once more, not having you around as their savior. 

The Hashira has since taken note that there was something wrong with you and Sanemi. Shinobu had seen more of the Wind hashira at the Butterfly Estate to heal petty wounds that he'd usually got to you for - when she asked why he was there, he had snapped at her and stated that it was “her job” to do so.

Obanai and Sanemi train together often, now more than ever. He would visit the Serpent estate to train just so he didn’t have to be home - Iguro never questioned him.

Muichiro is air headed and often stuck in his own mind when he wasn’t out on missions. But he recognizes a shift in your behavior. Your eyes are sadder than he remembers them and all he can think to do is do the things he liked to do - with you. He’d watch the clouds with you, not speaking unless you did. He would make origami with you, claiming that yours were trash - it caused you to laugh at his insensitive truth - and would end up gifting you one of his origami pieces.

Mitsuri’s would often feed you, claiming that whenever she was down, she desired to eat delicious foods. She didn’t want to ask anything of you and Sanemi’s relationship, but she just hoped that whatever did happen that it would end soon. 

You were grateful for everyone's attempts in changing your mood and it would be selfish to say that it didn’t work. However, as the second month kicks, you realize just how foolish you feel. Your head has been far too into Sanemi and why he was ignoring you (and your own separate missions) that you ignored your own overall health. 

“Y/N.”

Shinobu tilts her head at you, curiosity in her eyes. Her face turns to a look of concern.

“Pregnant.” you repeat her words.

 Could you even be surprised? You were in the second month since the mission in Shinjuku. The last thing on your mind upon returning was a contraceptive and even when you woke up feeling less than yourself, you still couldn’t accept that you were with child.

“You must think I’m so stupid.” you laugh humorlessly at Shinobu, insect-like eyes watching your every move.

“Of course not!” Shinobu denies. “Why would you think such a thing?”

You inhale deeply. You thought as much because it was what you were feeling. Stupid - pregnant by Sanemi and it appeared now that he wanted nothing to do with you. Stupid for getting pregnant when your occupation was killing demons.

“Y/N. Are things with you and Shinazugawa…good?” Shinobu doesn’t want to pry, but now you were with child and appeared disgusted, concerned and frightened all at once.

You swallow, throat tightening. “Yes.” you murmur, an obvious lie. Everyone has noticed the shift in the relationship between the two of you and now Shinobu has an idea as to why.

“I assume Shinazugawa doesn’t know.” Shinobu states. “Y/N…there’s ways we can go about this now. If you aren’t ready I can assure you it will be painless.”

You blink at Shinobu’s words. You haven’t thought about a moment like this happening - not even the moment between you and Sanemi. When you arrived from the mission, you desired to see him and talk about whatever relationship the two of you had. But Sanemi turned cold, ignoring your presence all together and waving you off whenever you attempted to.

“If you do wish to keep the child, I will inform Oyakata-sama of the predicament and get you off from your missions. Since you’re early in the pregnancy, I’m sure you won’t have to-”

“I want to terminate.” you interrupt Shinobu. The Insect Hashira tries not to appear shocked by your words. She would never judge you for whatever decision you chose. 

You watch Shinobu nod her head. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world now - not while you were a part of the Corps. It also wouldn’t be fair to Sanemi. You lived in his house, after all. He had made his decision when it came to whatever relationship you had and you were now making yours.

It’s nightfall when you return back to Sanemi’s estate and you’re surprised to see him at the table eating and Sanemi appears to be just as surprised to see you. Upon returning home from his rounds, he assumed you were in bed for the night - but he was proven wrong when you strolled through the shoji doors.

Lilac eyes meet yours and Sanemi notes that there’s something wrong with you. He remains silent, as do you. His heart continues to jolt in your presence, hands yearning to touch your soft skin again. 

“Shinazugawa.” you murmur your acknowledgment to him. 

Shinazugawa.

You never called him that, Sanemi things. But he doesn’t have the right to feel away about it.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay here.” you begin. Sanemi drops his chopsticks, attention fully on you. “I’m grateful to have been trained by you.”

Where were you going with this?

“I’ll be taking my leave.”

You turn away from him, Sanemi watching your figure saunter down the hall. He hears your shoji doors open but not close. There’s shuffling in your room and now he decides to get up to see what you were doing.

“Where are you going?” Sanemi’s heart is pounding now at the sight of you holding a bag with your belongings. It’s the first time he spoke to you directly.

“I’ve…decided to leave.”

Sanemi glances away. “Where are you going?”

You shift in your stance. “I’ve spoken to Oyakata-sama. I have a few missions lined up before I leave the Corps.”

Sanemi’s head snaps to you. He’s checking your face for any sign of deceit. He doesn’t find any - instead your eyes are lined with moisture. Your throat is bobbing as if attempting to not cry at the words you’re speaking.

“I’m sorry that I’ve become a burden.”

Reach out to her - Sanemi things.

Hold her.

Tell her she was never a burden.

Sanemi remains silent.

You stroll past him, your familiar scent passing him.

“You don’t have to leave.” Sanemi calls just as you’re a foot out the door. 

You don’t want to leave.

Sanemi doesn’t want you to leave.

Apologize to her.

Tell her how you feel.

Tell her you love her.

Sanemi’s mind races with his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize you’re already leaving.

“Y/N-”  Sanemi follows behind you, pace picking up to reach you. “Where are you going now? After you leave the Corps?”

You feel Sanemi’s hand around your wrist to stop you from walking. 

“Back home.” you respond, unable to look at him. You made your decision to leave and going against that wouldn’t be the correct decision for you.

Sanemi gulps. He releases his hand from your wrist.

“I hope you don’t feel as if it was a waste of time training me. I wasn’t a part of the Corps for long.” 

You were never a waste of his time, Sanemi wants to say, but his mind is racing and his heart is longing for you. 

Why were you going back home to your father? The same man that sold you to someone - that abused you for years on end?

“Thank you, Sanemi. For everything. I must be going.”

Tell her to stay.

Tell her she doesn’t have to leave here - leave you.

Tell her you love her- that you pushed her away because you were disgusted with yourself.

Tell her how horrible you felt that you took advantage of her innocence.

Sanemi doesn’t say anything and instead watches until your figure disappears. For the first time in years, he feels like he could shed tears at the loss of someone he loved.

Final Part

[twstowo]

Hey, can I ask for the teachers to meet their son (male!reader, that isn't Yuu) boyfriend ? Like, what is the boy they accepted and who they don't ? (And if you write for Yuu, can you add them pls ?)

Ignore it if you don't want to write it !!

♡︎Gender Neutral Terms as always!

♡︎I have turned this into a Rank, help?

♡︎Includes: NRC(No Ortho), RSA and Rollo

⋆⋅☆You are more than free to date them, the teachers fully approve of them

I’m having a hard time picking the first place. So I’m simply going to place these two here.

1. Kalim and Silver! Do I even need to explain why? They are the greenest flags ever, they would be so sappy and cute and always treat you well and the teachers are fully aware of that, they can see that they truly care for you. 2. Neige I didn’t place Neige with Kalim and Silver because he is from another school, the teachers would be sceptical of this far-away dating but would still fully approve of it, after all, Neige is extremely kind and considerate of you. 3. Trey Of course, he is here, Trey would be a great boyfriend, male wife material, like c’mon he can cook and he knows how to take care of little kids, the teachers would completely approve of you dating him. 4. Jack Jack is the sweetest boy ever, and there is no way the teachers would ever be against him being your boyfriend. He is ranked a bit lower than the others because the teachers find him a little too shy when it comes to showing affection. They believe you deserve someone who isn't afraid to be open about their love with you. Not that you mind that much. 5. Epel The teachers are aware of his sharp tongue, and the reason why he isn't in the lower group is simply because they believe he won't cause trouble for you enough to keep him under watch. After all, he tends to be quite a great boyfriend.

⋆⋅☆They somewhat approve of them but still keep an eye on them.

6. Riddle They believe he would be way too strict with you, and, of course, they keep an eye on him after his overblot. On the other hand, he is a high-honour student who seems to be purely a gentleman, so they give him the benefit of the doubt. 7. Cater Cater would also make a great boyfriend, and the teachers know that. However, they keep an eye on him since he seems to be so attached to his social media life. They feel that he pays more attention to this virtual network than to you, and you need to reassure them that this isn’t true. 8. Sebek His duties as Malleus's knight are why he is under the teachers' watch. They believe he pays more attention to his responsibilities than to you. With time, you prove them wrong, and they watch as he never seems to utter the word “Malleus” when he is around you. 9. Deuce Deuce is an amazing boyfriend overall, and the only reason they keep an eye on him is because of the past incidents when he first joined the school. 10. Vil Vil is here because the teachers believe he is more focused on himself than on you, and he is always busy with his work. So, he is under watch from the teachers until you prove them wrong. Not that it takes long because as soon as you tell Vil what the teachers think about your relationship, he goes out of his way to prove how wrong they are.

⋆⋅☆They question your love choices, unsure if they approve but will allow it for now, as long as they don’t do anything that makes them change their mind.

11. Ruggie They are aware of Ruggie’s signature spell and the things he gets away with by using it, so they aren't very happy with your love choices. On the other side, they do see that Ruggie seems to care a lot for you, so they reluctantly try to give him a chance. 12. Malleus Malleus is here because he is the heir of Briar Valley, and the teachers are worried about you being with someone as powerful and influential as him. We all know that he would be an amazing boyfriend. 13. Idia Not that Idia would be a bad partner, it’s just that he is always stuck inside his room, the teachers would totally be skeptical of this. They would question how can you date someone like that? Does he even invite you on dates? And you just have to explain that he is an amazing boyfriend and that your dates tend to be in his room. They still don’t understand the fun of it. 14. Jade The only reason Jade is higher than Azul and Floyd is that he actually knows how to behave, and the teachers respect that. However, they are still aware that Jade isn’t exactly the best person around. I’m pretty sure that Jade wouldn’t let the teachers down. Even if he did something to make them think he isn't worthy of you, he will quickly get rid of any evidence. It’s like it never happened.

⋆⋅☆Literally, questioning where they went wrong at this point. They don’t approve of it, and will try to get you away from them.

15. Ace Another troublemaker that they would rather see being as far away as possible from you. Aside from that, his grades are terrible, and they don’t want someone like that to be your boyfriend. The fact that the two of you were friends was already hard enough on them. 16. Lilia They find Lilia to be way too mischievous. Also, isn’t he basically Malleus and Silver’s father? No way that they would want you dating him. They find that you are way too young to deal with someone like that. 17. Che’nya Similar to Neige, he is also from another school, so they don’t understand how that could even work out. The difference is that Che’nya isn’t a lovey-dovey young man like Neige. They aren’t sure if they like Che’nya’s behaviour in general. 18. Jamil They believe he is manipulating you into the relationship, that he is using you for some sort of twisted goal.

⋆⋅☆No! As soon as they see him talking to you it’s over, they don’t even care if it was only a friendly talk.

19. Azul Shady octopus man with shady deals. OF COURSE, THEY DON’T APPROVE OF THIS! They believe that he's got you under a deal, and that's why you are dating him. 20. Floyd The only reason why Floyd is lower than Azul is that at least Azul started trying to behave after his overblot, but Floyd keeps on doing what he desires when he feels like it, and the teachers don’t like that very much. They believe that he might grow bored of you and just leave you, and they can’t stand the thought of someone ever doing that to you. 21. Leona Lazy lion that doesn’t show up to classes, the teachers wouldn’t allow this. You can try to tell them that Leona has money but they won’t budge with that commentary. They probably think he won’t put much effort into your relationship and that you deserve better. 22. Rook You know why he is here!! He would totally be one of those extreme partners, and of course, in the beginning, that is very nice and all, but with time it just slowly turns weird, and the teachers are more than aware of the type of man that he is. They would order a restraining order if you even spoke his name near them. 23. Rollo He tried to KILL Trein and everyone else who came to Fleur City from the Night Raven college, there is no way they would accept this.

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Michael so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's an high-ranking angel from the Celestial Realm, more specifically a Seraph. (nb: 18-2 and nb card: Luke - "I can do it too!")

➤ His love for sweets is the reason Luke took interest in baking. (swd: 5-12 and 23-5)

➤ He and Lucifer were equals in the Celestial Realm and no other angel shared the same status as them. Simeon referred to them back then as "the two great leaders of the Celestial Realm's legion of angels." (swd: 23-7) But currently Michael carries that position alone. (swd: 23-5)

➤ He was supposed to meet MC when they visited the Celestial Realm with Solomon but couldn't because a secret spring suddenly started drying and Michael had to go there to investigate the situation. (swd: 23-7)

➤ He used to be Mammon's mentor and tried his best to train the white-haired brother while in charge of him but wasn't able to figure out how to handle him and eventually went to Lucifer asking for help. And since Lucifer was somehow able to get Mammon to listen to him, he ended up taking over Michael's role and became his mentor instead. (swd: 27-19)

➤ He was originally the one in possession of the Ring of Wisdom but gave the ring to Solomon at a time when the human was feeling "lost" and Michael wanted to help him. (swd: 29-5)

➤ During MC's 2° stay in the Devildom when Diavolo was keeping secret from everyone that their powers had become a threat to the three realms, Michael sent the prince a message through Simeon, warning him that if whatever he was keeping a secret affected the Celestial Realm, angels wouldn't hesitate to intervene. (swd: 31-16 Hard Mode)

➤ He's the one who found the Ring of Light, counterpart to the Ring of Wisdom that Lucifer had lost during the Great Celestial War (swd: 37-9), and quickly noticed it was missing when Simeon stole it to give it to MC ( since it was the only other way to control their powers ), shooting the other angel a text stating that they needed to have a "good, long talk" and that he wanted to see him as soon as possible. (swd chat: M, "untitled")

➤ When MC was given the Ring of Light and fell unconscious because of it, Michael appeared to speak with them. And during their talk, the seraph told MC that he had pictured them to be truly wicked person due to being so well-liked by the brothers, but that he had been proven wrong after meeting them. (swd: 38-17)

➤ In that same conversation, Michael confessed to being jealous of MC. He told them: "I must admit that I'm jealous of you, MC. I wish I could have been more like you. Because I loved Lucifer and his brothers, and I lost them. Perhaps things could have been different..." (swd: 38-17)

➤ When asked, Satan explained to MC that Michael was the opposite of Lucifer appearance-wise but that they felt like twins at the same time. And when Mammon brought up Michael's adoration for Lucifer, Satan chimed in saying that in his opinion the reason Michael liked Lucifer so much was because he was the embodiment of everything he wanted to be but couldn't. (swd: 43-19)

➤ He would be the one having meetings with Diavolo when the prince took over the kingdom if he hadn't thrown the responsibility onto Lucifer in the last minute, making Michael in a way the stepping stone that led Lucifer to question his faith and start having doubts about God and the Celestial Realm in general. (swd: 44-15)

➤ When MC ended up in the past Celestial Realm through a dream Solomon sent them to accidentally by feeding them his food, Michael was the one to bring them back home. The angel told MC that they and the brothers would likely forget what happened in the dream but that it would still have an effect on all of them and he would keep an eye on them to make sure that said effect didn't have negative consequences in the future. (swd: 44-18)

➤ Luke told MC that he often found Michael in the hall where the brothers' portraits used to hang staring at the empty space, lost in thought. According to the small angel, Michael to this day still deeply misses the brothers and has regrets about the war. (swd: 49-15)

➤ He was the one to cast out the brothers from the Celestial Realm and send them to the Devildom. (swd: 50-7)

➤ According to Mammon, Michael and Simeon must've pulled some strings behind the scenes to get Luke to participate in the exchange program and be able to visit the Human World with Simeon because, with his low ranking, he'd never be the one chosen for those sorts of things and the Avatar of Greed is convinced that they're doing this because they want Luke to experience life outside the Celestial Realm, see that there's more out there than heaven, and stop thinking that angels are perfect beings who can do no wrong. (swd: 50-10)

➤ He's knowledgeable on constellations and likes them so much he had Raphael rebuilt a whole room so Human World constellations could be seen even from the Celestial Realm. (swd: 52-7) He also taught Mammon about them when he was still in his care, and later on taught Luke as well. (swd: 50-12)

➤ It was actually he who went into the Devildom and told the brothers that they had been forgiven by God and had to choose between staying in the demonic kingdom ( and making an enemy out of heaven ) or coming back to the Celestial Realm and leaving Satan behind. And in a conversation with Raphael, Michael said the reason for his disguise was that he was worried about what could happen if he showed up as himself. But Raphael quickly rebutted that by saying that the true reason Michael didn't go as himself was because he wouldn't know how to act around the brothers. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

➤ Still disguised as Raphael before going back to the Celestial Realm, Michael told Luke that he wasn't surprised that the brothers didn't accept his offer to go back to heaven and actually knew that would be the outcome of it. He was also surprised not too long after when Luke, not knowing it wasn't Raphael who he was talking to, pointed out that Michael seemed sad and lonely whenever he was staring at the wall where the brothers' portraits used to be. Michael's exact response to the younger angel's words was: "...I didn't realize that's what people thought.” (nb: 20-A)

➤ When asked by Raphael if he planned to attend RAD in the future, Michael avoided giving an direct answer and left. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

[alottanothing]

This is for @twola, who, about a week ago was having a bad day and wanted someone to write a snip of Arthur beating the shit out of someone who made the reader cry; with the addition of some smutty goodness, of course.

Well, this is the first time I've written publically for our dear cowboy Arthur Morgan. And I simply cannot write anything considered a 'snip'. So here's what my brain calls a snip; over 5k words just for you, twola. I hope this makes up for the bad say you had last week. :)

And shout out to my partner in writing crime, @itswormtrain, for making this readable!

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!reader receiving)

The sun was beginning to set over the peaceful hills and sprawling trees of Cumberland Forest. Those lingering traces of daylight caress the rugged terrain with whimsy, casting shadows that dance over the dirt path under the hooves of your young stallion. Nature seemed to pause in reverence as the sun gracefully lowered itself behind the distant mountains; the only sound was that of your horse's steady walk and the murmuring babble of the Dakota River in the distance.

It had been too long since you’d enveloped yourself in such tranquility, seemingly always at the receiving end of Miss Grimshaw’s scalding. Any anticipation of exploring the wilderness or going on jobs with the guys was always overshadowed by the necessity of chores.

When you’d joined the ranks of the Van der Linde Gang, you had hoped you’d garner a little more excitement than a seemingly endless cycle of laundry, cooking, and mending. Sure, the mess in Black Water and the threat of the law constantly at everyone’s heels was a form of excitement, concerning, but still excitement. Though, things had died down since all that, and Horseshoe Overlook was truly an awe-inspiring place to call home for the time being. Even so, camp chores remained deeply understimulating.

In truth, you were just antsy; you always were when Arthur was away for more than a couple of days. Your mind always thought the worst, despite knowing your handsome outlaw was more than capable of handling himself on jobs and in the wilds. But that nagging concern never ceases to occupy your mind. His absence at camp was never more cumbersome than when Grimshaw was barking out instructions, or when Uncle’s drunken singing was so off-key, it scraped against your brain like a rusty old knife. You simply couldn’t stand it anymore; you needed peace and quiet—something to scratch that itching thought in the back of your head.

Admittedly, you hadn’t planned to venture so far from camp, or any sort of civilization for that matter. The towering ramparts of Fort Wallace were in your sights before you decided to turn back. Were it not for the shotgun secured in its holster on your saddle, the late hour would have left you feeling considerably more anxious. Arthur had taught you well, and instilled in you enough confidence not to worry as you trot down the dirt path toward Valentine.

There wasn’t a single soul to be seen for the majority of your journey; your only company that of your horse and Mother Nature’s comforting embrace. You almost hated the far-off glow of a town in the distance, over the crest of a hill. Soon you’d be back at camp with nothing to do but laundry and fret over your lover's absence.

“Pardon me, miss.” You nearly jump from your saddle hearing the strange man’s voice. “Thank god for you, would you mind – too terribly – giving me a ride back to town?”

Your heart skips a warning in your chest as you look around, where did he come from? The question dances in your head as you fight to form the words you want. This was O’Driscoll country—a notion you were suddenly very aware of, and your eyes glance at the rifle still tucked securely in the holster on your saddle.

“I was thrown from my horse, ya see—wild beast took off without me. ‘Fraid I hurt my ankle when I fell.” He explained, garnering a wave of sympathy that clouded the caution in your gut.

The stranger wasn’t dressed in the usual black and green of Colm’s gang: just simple trousers and a dirty work shirt and boots. What could it hurt?

“Yeah, alright,” you said, giving the man a faint smile.

“Oh, bless you, miss. Bless you,” the look of relief on his features did well to settle the remainder of the apprehension swirling in your stomach.

With a firm grip, you steadied your horse so the man could climb on, offering your hand to help him up.

And that act of kindness was your mistake.

His grip on your wrist was like a vice, painful, as he yanks you from your horse's saddle, your boots nearly getting hung on the stirrups. A sinister laugh echoes through the tall trees, splitting the serenity with the jagged sound of malice. Your stallion rears and cries, spooked by the abrupt movement, but the stranger is quick to steady him, forcing your horse into a full gallop toward the glow of Valentine leaving you where you fell.

When the shock wears off, you aren’t sure which was stronger, the wave of anger that envelopes you, or the sudden fear of solitude that brings forth the steady stream of tears down your cheeks. Both feelings were justified, you figure. That, and how utterly foolish you feel for trusting a stranger.

You knew better. Your time with the Van der Lindes taught you not to trust anyone, at least not someone on the side of the road pretending to be hurt. That was the oldest trick in the book. One you’d used several times to con someone out of something. Now, you were out a horse and a shotgun.

When the landscape grew darker as night fell, those shadows that you once looked on with awe and majesty, now loom sinisterly.

Stupid! You scolded yourself, more tears searing down your face. It would be dawn before you made it back to camp on foot; if you made it back to camp at all.

Without the security of your shotgun at hand, your confidence in making it home unscathed was growing short. Animals lurked in the trees around you; monsters both beast and man would undoubtedly set their teeth on you if they found you alone and without the means to protect yourself.

A shiver surges through you, a combination of the onslaught of fear and the chill from the mud you’d landed in. If you’d been riding with Arthur, no one would have the gall to steal from him. And if they did, they surely wouldn’t live long enough to get far out of reach.

You wipe the mud from your hands to your skirts before swiping at the tears staining your face. Maybe someone from camp would notice you hadn’t returned yet and send someone looking for you. Why hadn’t you asked someone to ride along with you, Mary-Beth would have, and she would have appreciated the quiet you wanted. But no, all you needed was the shotgun… How foolish you were.

With a sigh, you work yourself to your feet, boots, and skirts caked with mud and dirt. Even with the weight of self-pity beckoning you to stay planted on the side of the road, the rage put fire in your steps. You would make it back to camp, feet surely blistered, if only to lessen the embarrassment of being robbed.

Anger proves to be a useful motivator as you trek down the road before you, lit only by the white light of the moon. The tears had stopped, but they threaten to spill again simply from how much your feet hurt. That glow seemed to have tricked you; Valentine wasn’t close at all. All there was was trees and rocks and dirt in every direction. You were utterly alone; lost in the wilderness with only thoughts of your naivety to keep you company.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth resonates through the stillness of the wood, sending shivers down your spine and provoking a new wave of tears. With every nearer beat of the rider’s approach, anxiety constricts your heart, sending a whirlwind of possibilities into your mind. Images of dark strangers conjure in your thoughts, each with a fiendish smile and a revolver on their hip, a green bandana tied around their neck. All your anger drains, as you feel fear creep deeper into your being. You wish you still had your shotgun.

“You need a ride, miss?”

Relief crashes into you like a wave against stone; you know that voice, deep and comforting—kind (to you, at least). This time, it was joy bringing tears to your eyes.

“Y/N?” The look of surprise was to be expected on Arthur’s face as he beholds the sight of you, muddy, with tears staining your face. “Darlin’, whattaya doin’ out here?”

Immediately he jumps from his horse, warm hands gently holding the tops of your arms as he gets a better look at the state you’re in. All traces of his hard exterior are swept away, leaving the softer, more compassionate man you fell in love with.

“Camp was driving me crazy without you. I just wanted to take a ride, but some asshole stole my horse—yanked me off my saddle an’ everything. S’why my skirts are all muddy.” You explain, fighting more tears.

Some of the softness fades, still, his voice is gentle when he speaks again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

You shake your head, “no.”

The pad of his thumb dances over your cheek tenderly as he tilts your chin to look at him.

“Darlin’, ya been cryin’.”

“’M just cryin’ at my own stupidity, is all.” You tell him. “Should’a known better than to trust a man alone in the woods.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose, nodding.

“D’ja at least get a good look at ‘im?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you nod. “He took off towards Valentine.”

Arthur glanced south and nodded too, “Then I reckon that’s where we’ll find him.”

He places you on the saddle and mounts just behind you, drawing you close to his chest as he gives his loyal mare a gentle kick to urge her back onto the road.

With Arthur's arms around you, the darkness of the forest shifts back into the realm of tranquility. The menacing silhouettes of the towering trees became that of gentle giants, swaying gracefully in the night breeze. No longer did the whisper of rustling leaves hold a feeling of foreboding. The forest, in the ethereal silver glow of the moon, was a picture of peace and beauty once more.

Despite what had happened, even Arthur was a beacon of serenity. He hums as you both ride. It’s the same tune Uncle was singing when you left, only Arthur’s melody instills you with a sense of calm while Uncle’s attempt had you on the verge of threatening to remove his tongue. Every so often you feel his lips press to your scalp, leaving soft kisses in your hair and each one helps to remedy every sour thought plaguing you. It never ceases to amaze you just how tender your outlaw could be. To the civilized world, he was quite literally the poster of cruelty and evil, but for you, he was your knight in shining armor.

Valentine was quiet when the hooves of Arthur's horse turn down the main thoroughfare. The muddy roads, churned up by hooves and wagons, were dimly lit by the flicker of oil lamps. In the distance the stirring of livestock in their pens echoes through the stillness of the air, the only other sound coming from the saloon in the middle of town.

Smithfield’s always seemed to clamor no matter what time of night it was. Debauchery never slept, you guessed. The clinking of glasses and the lofty tune of the piano can be heard as you pass the sheriff’s office, a symphony of merriment in the still night air that lent such disregard to the tired citizens of Valentine.

A few men stand outside, bottles in hand as they lament lost love and glory, belching and hiccupping into the cool air. Horses tied to the hitching post whinny and jerk at reins keeping them in place, and there among them was your stolen stallion.

Arthur steers his mare to the front of the saloon, his heavy boots landing with a squelch in the mud as he dismounted. He helps you down, strong hands circling your waist and steadying you in the soft earth.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’,” he says and tips his head toward your horse. “Get yer boy, Imma go take care of some business inside.”

Before you can utter a word he stomps up the stairs of the saloon, his frame taking on the posture of The Enforcer as he pushes through the swinging doors.

His face wasn’t unknown here, it was only a couple of weeks ago he and a few of the other men from camp had gotten into some trouble. You weren’t there to see the fight, but you’d heard all about Arthur’s trip through the window—now boarded up and waiting to be repaired. This time, you hoped it wasn’t your handsome outlaw cast through the pane of glass.

While Arthur is inside, you deftly untangle your horse's reins from the post, gently stroking his mane to soothe his soft whinnying. You smile when he nuzzles you back, happy, it seems, to be back in your care.

“Was that awful man mean to you?” you ask softly, rubbing the coarse fur of his strong neck. “Arthur will handle it, don’t you worry.”

As if on cue, the jovial commotion in the saloon ends; the happy voices now holding anger or shock. The piano playing is lost to the disgruntled sounds inside and a moment later, the man who nearly ruined your night is thrown through the doors.

His bruised form topples down each step before landing in the mud. You watch, unable to quell the sense of pride that surges through you as you watch Arthur swagger through the saloon doors and down the steps, spurs jingling. The confidence he holds as he looms over the thief settles over you warmly. This act of violence was in the name of chivalry; the man deserved whatever justice Arthur planned to dish out.

“Didn’t need ya to point him out after all, darlin’.” Arthur's words fell from his lips with the ghost of a grin, pleased with the opportunity to put your attacker in his place. “This feller was inside boastin’ to the whoooole saloon ‘bout the horse he stole from a helpless young woman just outside of town.”

Arthur kicks the man as he tries to stand, the thief falling back into the mud with a groan. Folks begin to gather on the wooden porch of Smithfield’s, their faces twisting in looks of both concern and excitement as they watch your handsome outlaw and the man who’d stolen your horse.

“See, normally I don’t waste my time dealin’ with dim-witted horse thieves. Hell, on occasion, I am one. But you see, that weren’t just any helpless young woman ya stole a horse from… that was my woman.” Arthur deals him another kick to his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs a second time as he tries to stand.

“An’ if it ain’t clear already,” Arthur says reaching to pull the man from the ground and holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “I don’t take kindly to anyone hurtin’ my woman in any way. Ya understand?”

The deep timbre of Arthur’s voice works over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He looks so fierce in the flickering light of the oil lamps, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from you, though you know they were cold, focused on the man in his grasp.

No coherent words fall from the thief's mouth as Arthur holds him nearly off the ground, only a moan of anguish, surely from the two kicks he’d suffered.

“Nod if ya understand,” Arthur demands with a shake.

Anger churns on the thief’s face, but he nods, slow, jaw clenching as he musters the gall to fight back.

“Fortunately for you, all I’m lookin’ for is an apology…” Arthur tips his hat in your direction. “…to the lady.”

The man’s dark eyes glance your way and he sneers, shaking his head with a mirthless chorttle.

“I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin’, especially when your woman is stupid enough ta get her horse stole in the first place.” 

If you cared even slightly about the fate of the man who’d stolen your horse, hearing those words escape his mouth would have caused your stomach to drop knowing the sort of fire he just ignited. But, you want nothing more than for Arthur to beat him into a bloody pulp.

To your surprise, however, Arthur remains steadfast, but his voice is increasingly more sinister when he speaks.

“Maybe ya didn’t hear me. An apology. Now.”

“No.” The thief spat, a fiendish smile turning his lips.

With lightning speed and unyielding force, Arthur’s fist collides with the man’s jaw, unleashing a thunderous crack that has the onlookers gasping. The sudden impact propels the thief backward, his body crashing into the cold mud for a third time.

You expect him to stay there, really if the man had any wits about him, he would have. However, despite the two kicks and the blow to his face, the thief rose from the mud, foolish determination etched onto his bloodied features. Arthur almost scoffs and wastes no time proving the extent of his strength. He strikes him again, obliterating the remnants of the man's fractured jaw, the sound resonating with a deafening crack.

No one rushes to the man's aid when he falls to the muddy earth for a fourth time, wailing in anguish at his shattered jaw. Arthur stands over him, tall and formidable, his presence almost challenging the man to get back up, your outlaw more than prepared to deal out more justice.

“Should’a apologized…” Arthur chides. “If ya had, maybe ya’d have use of that jaw’a yours right now.” 

The man groans in agony, writing on the ground as he holds his broken jaw. 

“But I had ta keep ya from speakin’ ill’a my woman like that. I certainly don’t appreciate when slimy fellers like you use her kindness against her.” Arthur slowly circles the man like a fierce wolf circles their prey. “Then ya had ta go leavin’ her out in them woods, faaar from any sort of civilization, all alone. An’ well. I ain’t takin’ no apologies for that.” 

He stops, one leg on each side of the thief before dropping to his knees, fist poised high over the old leather hat on his head. Arthur didn’t leave your attacker with only one more punch; the man under his weight had committed the ultimate sin in your lovers eyes. He’d hurt you, a crime that warranted the ultimate punishment.

The sound of each punch reverberates through the air as Arthur’s fury drives him to deliver decisive blows. As you watch, pride swelling in your breast, you swear each hit lands with such intensity the ground beneath you trembles. All the folks gathered to watch pass whispers while looks of shock mold their features. Come the morning, the town would be talking again about the stranger who liked to stir up trouble in the sleepy city of Valentine. 

When Arthur finally stands, flexing his surely aching knuckles, the man beneath him is unrecognizable. Blood and bruises distort his face, teeth missing from his gaping mouth. His limp body is unmoving in the mud and you haven’t a care whether he was dead or alive. 

There is a hint of shame on his expression when he drew himself back into your orbit, the coldness in his eyes warming in your presence.

“’M sorry, darlin’.” He says refusing to look you in the eye. In an instant, the Enforcer was gone, leaving only your kind knight in shining armor standing before you, his knuckles red and bloodied from dealing out justice.

“For what?” you say taking his injured hand in yours, wiping the blood from the cuts with a clean section of your skirt.

“For what I done.”

You shake your head and tilt the brim of his hat, looking to meet his lowered gaze. “All you done, Mister Morgan, is protect your woman. Ain’t a lick of shame in that.”

He grins softly, gently caressing your chin and cheek with his clean hand. His expression meets yours completely.

“’M just glad I happened upon ya when I did.” He murmurs and you step closer to him.

His gentle eyes, painted in a delicate watercolor palette of blue and green, softly convey the deep love he possessed for you, along with the ever-lingering fear of losing you. The exquisite blend of tenderness and vulnerability was something seldom seen by anyone other than you. And each time those meticulously built walls of his came down,  you were honored to behold the part of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

“Me too,” you whisper, hoping the look you give him in return conveys the same sentiment.

The lives you lived held no real guarantees apart from a bullet or a hanging rope. You learned quickly to never take for granted a single moment, and this one you certainly weren’t.

“You ready to get back to camp now, darlin’?” he asks, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Camp… you almost grimace at the thought of returning to the mediocrity of it all.

“Actually.” Your eyes glance over to the hotel across the way, mischief coating your smile. “Was thinkin’ I should reward my rescuer.”

His brows furrow following your glance, oblivious to your meaning.

Before he can open his mouth to form a question, you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching on your tiptoes to gain the fullness of his kiss. As if on instinct his arms weave around your waist, your feet coming off the ground as he pulls you in closer to deepen the draw of your joined lips. It’s slow and lazy and perfect, his mouth undemanding but firm against yours, making you melt into his very being.

Your head is spinning when he pulls away, placing your feet gently back into the mud, and you can’t fight the smile unfurling over your wet lips.

“I’ll buy us a room at the inn,” you say, batting your eyes coyly. “S’ the least I can do for my knight in shining armor.”

Arthur laughed, heartily. There is an undeniable charm to the sound of his chuckle, as it cascades through the air, enveloping you with an infectious happiness each and every time you hear it. As his eyes hold yours, a playful glimmer twinkles behind them as he swiftly deciphers your not-so-cleverly veiled plan.

“A knight, hmm?” his brow lifts onto his forehead in a deep arch, his smirk firm on his lips.

You nod, “In shining armor.”

He chuckles again shaking his head before scooping you into his arms with ease. You gasp at the swiftness, and laugh too, draping your arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his bearded cheek.

“Well, then, I reckon I should play the part, shouldn’t I, sweetheart?” he says as he steps around your fallen, broken-jawed adversary on his way to the Saint’s Hotel. “Ain’t never been a knight before, just a dirty ol’ outlaw.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. 

He whistles as he trudges through the soft earth for his horse to follow and his loyal mare falls in close on his heel. Your horse follows too, nearly as inseparable from his horse as you were with Arthur.

“Ya ain't old, and ya ain’t dirty…need I remind you who's got mud all over their clothes?” you say kicking up your soiled skirts to get his attention. He just laughs.

“Maybe ya forgot already, but I was on my knees in the mud beating the life outta that fool who robbed you. That makes me just as dirty as you. ‘Sides, I reckon neither of us will be wearin’ them for much longer anyhow.”

His comment, and accompanying bravado surges through you like more wildfire, adding to the flames he’d already been fanning since throwing your attacker through the saloon doors. Arthur’s confidence in his ability to have you swooning with only the low smokey sound of voice and the words he spoke had grown exponentially. Which was both something of a blessing and a curse. You enjoyed the days of flirting and seeing him grow red in the face from your flattery. Now he made you putty in his hands with a few words and a coupling smile.

For that moment, however, you decide it’s a blessing; he’s your Savior in Spurs—a cowboy casanova.

You toss a coin to the innkeeper from the pocket of your skirts and he casts you a key that you manage to catch as Arthur wastes no time making his way upstairs.

In truth, the Saint’s Hotel was no paradise; with its meager accommodations and thin walls, it was hardly a place to find rest. However, that night, that illusion of privacy might as well have been nirvana. You could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a chance to make use of actual walls instead of the canvas flaps of Arthur’s tent. Here, the neighbors were strangers who wouldn’t be casting you looks over the fire the next morning, knowing far too much about what you and Arthur had gotten up to in his tent. You were going to savor every tiny detail unabashedly while you could.

The fire was already burning brightly in the fireplace, warming the room from the cool mountain air outside the windows, adorned with sun-rotted lace curtains. The wooden floor creaked under each step as if to voice its displeasure at the neglect it had suffered over the years. The faded wallpaper, once bursting with colorful patterns, now barely clung to the walls, faded and dusty. The bed, while made with threadbare quilts and pillows, appeared sturdy enough not to break under both your weights, and that was all you truly cared about.

Your boots are the first to come off once Arthur places you back on your feet, discarded with a couple of eager kicks before his hands reach for the fastenings of your skirts. Yours wind around his neck, burying your fingers in his honey-brown hair as you kiss his soft lips.

For all the violence they inflicted mere moments ago, Arthur's hands were so very gentle, plucking at the ties holding your skirts in place, and again as his deft fingers loosened every button of your blouse with practiced ease, leaving you in just your chemise. Despite the warmth of the fire burning in the room, a chill works through you and you sigh, more gooseflesh prickling your skin as Arthur moves his hand to the globe of your breast, thumb sweeping over the covered peak of your nipple.

His featherlight touches make your mind a dizzying vortex of desire. This man, who uses his hands to deal out death sentences, only ever uses them to worship you. His mouth, which often spits out sarcasm and cruelty, paints your skin with tender presses and undeniable words of adoration.

Your hands snake from their place in his hair to the buttons of his blue work shirt, loosening only a few before he swats your hands away gently causing a whine to sound in the back of your throat. He meets your furrowed brow with smirk and a quick peck on your lips before moving your hands back where they were. 

“Feels good, you doin’ that,” he tells you. 

You gently scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. “This?”

“Mhm…” he leans to kiss you again, a slow, worshipful act as though he is trying to memorize every detail of your mouth against his. 

Desire thrums through you ever hotter. You need him. 

“Arthur…” you breathe in weak protest as his lips scour down the column of your neck, his hands pulling your chemise from you. “…I’m s’posed to be rewardin’ you.”

You feel him smile and shake his head as his kisses venture further across your collarbone. When he relieves you of your bloomers, you shiver and moan at the feeling.

“Don’t need no reward, darlin’.” He whispers against your skin between kisses. “Think its you that needs taken care of after whatcha been through.”

Calloused fingers spray over the small of your back as he brings you against him, the hardness in his trousers pressing against your bare form. You feel your own arousal coating your thighs, warm and wet, and begging for the feel of him inside of you.

“Will ya let me do that darlin’? Take care of ya?” his hands explore as he speaks, trailing down your spine before cupping your back side with a little squeeze. 

Your head falls back with a ragged sigh, fingers tugging at this hair. As much as you want to tease and dote on him and show him how grateful you were for his timing, you can’t think when he has you like this: naked and vulnerable to his touch, mind cloudy with desire. 

“Yes, Arthur. Always.” You murmur, lost in the blissfulness of his touches. 

As if you weigh nothing, he takes you in his arms again, hoisting you aloft, and carrying you to the bed where he lays you so tenderly over the threadbare coverings.

You watch, heart pounding against the cage of your ribs as he quickly sheds each of his layers. It is a show you have seen a dozen times and helped with a dozen more, still, your lust-blown eyes gauge him with reverence and awe.

He is truly magnificent, your handsome outlaw; strong shoulders and wide chest dusted with coarse hair your fingers yearned to comb through. Warmth drifts through your body as you drink in every inch of him, eyes landing where his cock juts from dark curls proudly and your cunt clenches in anticipation.

“C’mere, sir knight…” you say stretching across the mattress, smiling, and batting your lashes. “…come an’ claim yer prize.”

Arthur chuckles heartily as he climbs into bed, and you welcome the press of his weight with a happy sigh. He teases your lips with his own, soft kisses that leave you wanting before the press of his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You reciprocate, drinking from his mouth with hungry groans.

Heat pools lower and lower where you want him most; feeling the long pulsing line of him against your thigh was like torture, causing another whine to escape your busy lips.

“Please…” you sigh, a slow undulation taking your hips in search of some form of stimulation.

Once more he obeys, his mouth laying a hot trail down your sternum, stopping to draw your nipple between his lips before traveling further down. The sensation of familiar, calloused palms gliding down the stack of your ribs as his kisses continue their way down, squeezing the swell of your hips and kneading the softness of your thighs have your quiet moans echoing through the room.

Arthur dips his mouth to your center abruptly and draws his tongue up through your slick folds, tasting just how much you need him, and he groans.

“Mmmm, darlin’,” he murmurs before swirling his tongue over the bud nestled at the apex of your cunt. “I don’t do this enough…”

You gasp, a flash of heat pulsing through your center, head rolling against the pillow. He didn’t do this enough, then again, the two of you rarely found yourselves so alone together. And there was barely enough room for the two of you on Arthur’s cot anyway, let alone room to explore other methods of pleasure.

He intensifies his exploration, drawing his tongue over you in wide flat strokes, while your thighs come to moor on his shoulders, heels digging into his back. You feel his shoulders roll as he dedicates himself fully to his task, thrusting his tongue into you, filling you with warm velvet before abandoning your core for the silky nub crowning it. Arthur's tongue curls against it until you shiver and gasp.

“A-Arthur…” your breath hitches, hooking your fingers into his hair.

A low purr rumbles through him as you press against his face, hips rolling in rhythm with his ministrations. Your lover sweeps his tongue over and around your clit repeatedly. Sensation swells low in your belly, feeling yourself nearing the ultimate peak and you tug his hair ruthlessly wanting more. Needing more than just his mouth. His truly wonderful mouth... 

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mutters against your dripping cunt, the gust of his breath billowing over your heated center causing you to shutter.

Without fanfare a wide finger dips into your core, then another, making your back arch and a loud moan spill from your lips at the delightful stretch. For only a moment, your cry reminds you of the paper mache walls surrounding you; no doubt everyone in the Saint's Hotel knows what the two of you are up to, but you cared little with Arthur between your legs eating you out like he was made to do so.

Stars dance in your eyes as you skirt the edge of your undoing. He growls encouragingly when you flutter in warning against his lips and around his fingers.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, voice low and utterly sinful. You can even feel his proud, smirking lips against your center, the image alone snapping the spring coiled low in your belly.

Ecstasy hits you like white-hot heat, tunneling your vision as you jerk against his face, heels digging into his back. His name falls sloppily from your mouth in a flurry of mixed vowels and sounds that hold no cohesive meaning, each one melding into throaty moans.

“That’s my girl…” He grins, removing his fingers to lap up all the juices of your arousal as you ride out your orgasm against his face.

Slowly you come back to yourself, the tremors of aftershock fading as your breath and vision catch up to you. Arthur remains content between your legs, gently kissing the soft skin of your thighs, once more humming the tune he’d serenaded you with on your way into town.

When he smiles at you, lips and chin shining with your nectar, love burning behind his blue-green eyes, you pet his hair, holding that gaze with the same reverence. Slowly a smirk unfurls on your lips.

“Like I said, knight in shining armor.”

[jetii]

Too Sweet

Part One | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,162/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, lots of awkward flirting in this part, smut in part 4

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Okay, I think I have the rest of this fic pretty much set, except for the final edits to the smut. Part 3 will be up on Wednesday and part 4 next Sunday!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

A week passes, and the wound in his shoulder heals without any complications. There's no need to see you again, and Fox is relieved. The more time that passes, the easier it is to forget about the interaction, and he soon manages to put it out of his mind entirely. He’s far too busy to dwell on things that don’t matter, and he has better things to focus on.

He still thinks about you, though.

It’s hard not to. He passes GMF every day, and sometimes he finds himself staring at the building wondering if you're working. You'd seemed to enjoy your job, and he finds himself hoping that you're doing okay. But then he reminds himself that it's none of his business, and he walks away.

Another week goes by, and the stitches dissolve, leaving nothing but a faint scar. Fox isn't sure how to feel about it. It's not the first scar he's gotten, and he doubts it'll be the last, but for some reason, he can't stop looking at it. It's strange. The wound was minor, and the injury is no longer bothering him, but there's something about the scar that intrigues him.

He doesn't like it.

It's a reminder of his failure, and the fact that he had been injured by a common criminal. It was embarrassing, and the fact that he still remembers your smile only makes it worse. It shouldn't have happened, and he was supposed to be better than that. He was supposed to be the best, and a scratch like this should have never occurred.

He spends his days obsessing over the incident, trying to figure out where he went wrong. There had to be a way to avoid a repeat performance, and he's determined to find it. The new security system has arrived, and he throws himself into his work, spending hours studying the plans and the documentation. He ignores his brothers' concerns and pushes himself harder than ever before, refusing to accept anything less than perfection.

After a week, he's finally satisfied, and he announces the changes to the Senate guards. He receives several confused looks, but no one questions his orders. He's the commander, after all, and if he wants things a certain way, that's the way they're going to be. It doesn't matter what the others think, as long as the job gets done.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" Fox asks, looking up from his datapad to find Thorn standing in the doorway, a scowl on his face.

"Don't give me that."

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is you," Thorn says, pointing at him. "You've turned the Senate building into a fortress."

"So?"

"You've doubled the number of guard patrols," Thorn continues. "We've already had to reroute half the traffic, and people are getting mad. You can't just keep making these changes without talking to us first."

"It's my job," Fox says, his voice cold. "And you're not in charge, I am."

"Don't pull rank on me," Thorn snaps.

"Then don't question my decisions."

Thorn glares at him, his expression hard. He's clearly angry, but Fox doesn't care. He's doing his job, and his brother doesn't have the right to tell him how to do it. He's the one who has to answer for the safety of the Chancellor, and he's not about to let Thorn interfere.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks, his shoulders dropping, and the anger in his voice is tempered by concern. "You're acting weird."

"I'm not," Fox says, frowning.

"You are," Thorn insists. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. "I know we don't see eye-to-eye all the time, but something's up with you."

"There's nothing wrong," Fox says, his tone flat. He looks back down at the datapad, hoping that Thorn will take the hint and leave. There’s already a new message from the Chancellor, and he wants to get started on his report.

"You've been acting weird ever since that incident," Thorn says.

"What incident?" Fox asks, not looking up.

"The knife attack.”

"There were lots of knife attacks," Fox says, his voice flat. "You're going to have to be more specific."

“The one where you got stabbed, di’kut. It was two weeks ago, remember? When we had to go to GMF—“ Thorn stops abruptly, his eyes widening.

"What?" Fox snaps. He doesn't like the look on Thorn's face. It's the same expression he gets when he's solved a case, and it never means anything good. "What is it?"

"I just realized something."

"Realized what?" Fox asks, his patience running thin. He's tired and hungry, and the last thing he wants to deal with is another of Thorn's conspiracy theories.

"Why didn't I think of this sooner?" Thorn says, ignoring him, and he chuckles to himself. He walks over to the window and looks out, his expression thoughtful. "It's so obvious."

"Thorn—"

“This is about the doctor, isn’t it?”

Fox stiffens, and he stares at Thorn, his mouth falling open. He hadn't expected his brother to be so blunt, and the question catches him off guard.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb," Thorn says, giving him a look. "You've been obsessed with that incident ever since it happened, and I know for a fact that you've been avoiding the medical center."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have," Thorn counters. "I've seen you turn around three times when we've walked past it, and you keep finding excuses not to go there."

"I'm not avoiding anything," Fox grumbles. He knows that Thorn isn't going to drop the subject until he answers, and he lets out a sigh, setting down his datapad. "It's not about the doctor. It's about the injury."

"I don't buy it."

"You don't have to."

"Fine," Thorn says, crossing his arms. He looks at Fox for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing, and then lets out a breath. "But for the record, I think you're being an idiot."

"So you've said."

"Yeah, well, maybe you'll listen this time."

"I doubt it," Fox mutters, and he picks up the datapad again. The screen is blank, and he taps at the controls, trying to remember where he'd left off.

"Why are you so set on torturing yourself?" Thorn asks. His voice is quiet, and the question takes Fox by surprise. He looks up at his brother, frowning, and he sees that Thorn is watching him with a worried expression. "You can't keep going like this, Fox."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Thorn says. He walks over to the desk and sits down in the chair across from Fox, his elbows resting on the surface. "You're working yourself to death, and it's not going to make a difference."

"It will," Fox insists. "If we can—"

"It won't," Thorn interrupts. "I know you're worried about the Chancellor, but he's not going to disappear overnight. He's not in any more danger now than he was a week ago."

"We can't afford to let our guard down," Fox says, his voice strained. "You know that."

"I do." Thorn nods. "But you can't keep going like this. At least take a break. Go to a bar. Relax."

"There's too much work to do."

"I'll cover for you."

Fox sighs and looks down at the datapad again, the words blurring together. He can't focus, and the report isn't going to get done anytime soon. Thorn is right, as much as he hates to admit it. He's been working too hard, and it's starting to take a toll. But the thought of stopping makes his chest tighten, and he feels a surge of anxiety. If he stops, what's going to happen? What if something goes wrong, and he's not there to stop it? What if—

"Fox."

"Yeah," he says, letting out a shaky breath.

"Just take the rest of the night off." Thorn leans forward and gently pries the datapad from Fox's fingers. "You need to rest."

"Fine," Fox says, and he feels his shoulders slump.

"Good."

"But not a word of this to the others," he warns.

"I won't." Thorn smirks and stands up, walking over to the door. "Just promise me you'll try and have a little fun, okay? No matter how boring you think it is."

"Yeah, yeah."

Thorn leaves, and Fox lets out a sigh, sinking into his chair. He rests his head in his hands, rubbing his temples, and closes his eyes. The darkness is soothing, and he lets out a slow breath, trying to calm his nerves.

He's been feeling off for a while now, and the conversation with Thorn had only made things worse. The stress is starting to get to him, and he knows that he needs a break. But the thought of stepping away from the office, even for a moment, fills him with a sense of dread. He's afraid that something will happen, and he'll be too far away to stop it. But deep down, he knows that Thorn is right. He can't keep going like this. Something's got to give.

Fox’s stomach growls, painfully reminding him that he hasn't eaten all day. The sound snaps him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, blinking. He's been sitting here for hours, and the sun has gone down. It's late, and his body is screaming for food and sleep.

He stands up and stretches, his back popping, and heads for the door. The mess hall at the barracks has long since closed, and his stomach grumbles again, louder this time. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, wondering if there's a ration bar left in his locker. Probably not. Maybe if he takes a walk, he can find something. There's bound to be a 24-hour café open somewhere, and if he’s lucky, they'll have something edible. He hasn't eaten actual food in weeks, and the thought of having something hot and fresh is almost too tempting to resist.

He steps out of his office and makes his way down the corridor, passing the rows of empty desks and abandoned terminals. Thorn’s office light is still on, and when Fox passes by, his brother gives him a thumbs up and a smile. Fox rolls his eyes, and he keeps walking, his feet carrying him down the stairs and towards the exit.

The night air is cool and refreshing, and he takes a deep breath, letting the chill seep into his bones. The streetlights are on, and the traffic has thinned, but the city is still bustling with activity. People are milling about, and he can see a few clusters of troopers on patrol. It's a familiar sight, and it brings him some comfort. At least here, he knows what to expect.

He walks for a few blocks, keeping his head down and his eyes forward. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, and the last thing he needs is another confrontation with a citizen. He's tired, and the thought of having to explain himself is enough to make him cringe. It's better to just avoid it altogether.

Fox rounds a corner and pauses, his eyes scanning the crowd. There's a small diner tucked away between two buildings, and the smell of spices wafts out from the doorway. His stomach growls again, and he walks towards the entrance, pushing the doors open.

The diner is small and cozy, and there's only a handful of people inside. They're scattered throughout the room, and most are seated at the counter, chatting with the droid serving them. Fox takes a seat near the door, as far away from the other customers as possible, and pulls off his helmet. His hair is sticking up, and he quickly runs his fingers through it, trying to smooth it down. He's not sure why, but he suddenly feels self-conscious, and the feeling unsettles him. He's usually more composed, but today has been rough, and he doesn't want anyone to see him like this.

He orders a cup of caf, and as soon as it’s placed in front of him, he downs it in a single gulp. It's strong and bitter, and the warmth spreads through his chest, calming him. The exhaustion is still there, but at least the headache was starting to fade. He orders a second cup, and he sips it slowly, letting the steam warm his face as he turns his attention to the menu. 

Most of the dishes listed are foreign to him, and he’s so absorbed in trying to decipher the strange names that he doesn't notice someone settling one stool over from him. The smell of lavender is subtle, but unmistakable, and a flash of white has him turning his head before he can stop himself.

It’s you.

Fox nearly inhales his caf, and you look up from your datapad, startled.

"Commander?" You blink a few times, seemingly as surprised to see him as he was to see you. The surprise on your face quickly morphs into concern, and you frown. "Is everything alright?”

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Fox says, taking another sip of caf to cover up his embarrassment.

"Are you sure? You look a bit...frazzled," you say, eyeing his hair.

He winces, and his free hand shoots up to smooth down his unruly curls again. Your gaze follows his movements, and then you smile, and the sight is like a punch to the gut.

"Just a long day," Fox mutters, glancing away. He stares down at his cup, tracing the rim with a gloved finger, and tries not to think about the way his heart is hammering in his chest. He can’t believe that of all the places in the city, you’re here, and the realization that you'd seen him make a fool of himself again has him wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

"I understand that," you say. Your smile fades, and you let out a sigh, tapping the datapad. "Unfortunately."

He glances over, curious, and sees that the screen is filled with rows of data. There are charts and graphs, and what appears to be an inventory list. It doesn't look like anything fun, and the thought that you might have a stressful job, too, intrigues him.

“What brings you out this late?” he asks.

You look at him, your eyebrows raised. For a moment, he worries that he's overstepped, but then you smile, and his worry melts away.

"Same as you, I suppose," you say, and he can hear the exhaustion in your voice. You sigh and set down your datapad. “My shift doesn’t end until 0400, but I needed a break from the medical wing. Sometimes, the smell of bacta gets to me."

Against his will, a laugh bubbles up from his chest. It’s short and rough, like gravel under his boots, but he can’t help it. He tries to cover it up by taking another sip of his caf, but you don't seem offended, and when he looks at you again, you're smiling.

"I hear that," Fox says, his lips twitching. "Something about it just..." He shudders, the thought of the thick, gel-like substance making him gag.

"Exactly," you say, nodding. "It's like melting plastic."

"Or glue," Fox says. He pauses for a moment, his brows furrowing, and he shakes his head. "Actually, maybe it is glue."

You laugh, and the sound is so bright and clear that it startles him. He didn’t think he was capable of making anyone laugh, and the fact that he had made you do so twice is baffling.

"Oh, stars, don't remind me.” Your nose scrunches up, and you let out a soft groan. "I can't tell you how many times I've had to peel my scrubs off and throw them away after a long day."

"I can only imagine," Fox muses, trying to picture you without the scrubs. His mind goes to a place h didn’t expect, and his cheeks heat up. He looks away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on the countertop.

"I suppose it’s not so bad," you continue, oblivious to his distress. You tap your fingers on the counter, and then turn towards him. "You know, I heard a rumor that you were afraid of medics."

"I am not," Fox scoffs, frowning. He looks at you, and your expression is serious, but there's a twinkle in your eyes that tells him you're not entirely sincere. "I just have a healthy respect for those who can take me apart and put me back together again.”

"A healthy respect," you echo, grinning.

"Yes."

"Is that why you ran out of GMF like you were being chased by a Nexu the other day?" you ask, and there's a teasing note in your voice that makes his stomach flip.

"No," he mutters, looking away. 

He can feel his face burning, and his embarrassment is only making it worse. You'd noticed. Of course you had. And the fact that you'd actually thought about it, that you'd cared enough to bring it up, is both flattering and mortifying. He'd been hoping that you would just forget the entire incident, but apparently, you were more perceptive than he'd realized.

"Right," you chuckle. "Well, you're braver than most, I'll give you that. Most troopers don't set foot in the med center unless they're dragged there by their brothers."

He can't help but chuckle a little at that. If only you knew how close to the truth you were.

"So, if you're not afraid, do you mind if I join you?” you ask, gesturing toward the empty seat between you. “I promise not to dissect you, Commander."

Fox hesitates, his stomach clenching. You're asking to sit next to him. Why? It doesn't make any sense, and he's not sure what to say. It's a simple question, but it feels like there's a hidden meaning behind it, and he can't figure out what it is. But, the hopeful look on your face and the inexplicable need to please you is making it hard for him to say no.

You must mistake his silence for refusal, because your smile fades, and you pull back a little.

"It's okay if you don't want to," you say, and your tone is apologetic. "I just figured, since we're both here..."

"No, no, I'd like that," Fox says quickly, scooping up his helmet and setting it on the counter beside him. He gives you a small smile, and you beam back at him.

"Great!"

You stand and move to the seat between you, and Fox finds himself leaning back a little, not wanting to be too close. But when you settle into the stool, the scent of lavender is stronger, and he relaxes, allowing himself to enjoy it.

"I thought maybe I was bothering you," you admit.

"You’re not," Fox says, and he means it. Your presence is actually calming, and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease a little. He takes a deep breath, savoring the smell, and then realizes what he's doing and quickly stops. He picks up the menu and studies it intently, trying to distract himself.

You don't say anything, and he can feel you watching him. It's unnerving, but the feeling isn't entirely unpleasant, and he allows himself a few more seconds before he looks up at you again. When he does, you quickly turn away, a light flush dusting your cheeks. It's oddly endearing, and Fox has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

The waitress droid returns and pours you a cup of caf before refilling his. You thank her as she leaves, and you pick up the cup, taking a sip. You let out a sigh, and your eyes close, a satisfied smile forming on your lips.

"This is perfect," you murmur, taking another sip. "I needed this."

"It's a necessity in my line of work," he says, his tone dry. "I'd be dead without it."

"You're telling me," you say, smiling at him, and you rest your chin on your hand. "I had to get three cups before my shift started just to feel human again."

"Three?"

"Don't judge," you say, laughing. "It's been a rough week."

"I wasn't judging," Fox smirks. "Those are rookie numbers, doctor."

“Rookie, huh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And how many cups would you say a seasoned pro could drink, Commander?"

"At least four." His smirk widens, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head. But your smile never falters, and Fox feels a little surge of pride. 

The way you seem so relaxed around him is surprising. Most civilians are put off by his presence, his harsh demeanor and stoicism, the fact that you aren't afraid of him makes him happy, and the warmth in his chest spreads through his body, filling him with a strange sort of euphoria.

"Well, I think we've established who's the true caffeine addict here," you tease. “You better eat something, or your heart is going to explode."

“Is that your official medical opinion, doctor?" he asks, his tone dry.

"It is," you say, giving him a pointed look.

He can't help but chuckle at your seriousness, and the way your brow furrows as you pretend to scold him. It's cute, and he finds himself enjoying it more than he should. 

He shouldn't be so comfortable around you, and yet he can't seem to stop himself. Something about you just draws him in, and the longer he spends in your company, the less he wants to leave.

"Then, I guess I'd better order something," Fox says, smiling.

“You better," you say, and the sternness in your voice is ruined by the way your eyes sparkle.

The two of you lapse into silence, and Fox takes the opportunity to study you. Your eyes are fixed on the menu, and you’re chewing on your bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Your hair falls around your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand behind your ear. You're beautiful, and the thought comes unbidden, but Fox doesn't try to fight it. It's true. You are beautiful. And you're talking to him, of all people, even after how he treated you.

It's surreal, and the fact that you seem so content, so happy, to be in his company is baffling. He can’t stop the questions from swirling through his mind. Why would someone like you want to spend time with him? What could you possibly get out of it? Surely, there had to be some sort of ulterior motive, some scheme or plan. Maybe you were spying for the Separatists, or working with the Black Sun, or—

"Have you eaten here before?" you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

"No, I haven't," Fox admits. "I don't really eat out much."

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” you say, and you grin at him. The gesture is so sincere, so full of warmth and joy, that his heart skips a beat. "They have the best seallia sandwich here. I've been coming here since I started working at the GMF."

"I'll have to try it, then," Fox says, returning your smile.

The droid returns, and the two of you place your orders. When she leaves, the silence settles over the table again, and Fox fidgets, not sure what to do. He’s not normally one for small talk, or any talk, really, but something about your presence makes him want to reach out, and the fact that he doesn't know what to say is frustrating.

He glances over, and the look on your face is thoughtful, almost sad. You're staring at the counter, your chin resting in the palm of your hand, and the corners of your mouth are turned down. 

You look exhausted, and the sudden realization that you're probably as tired as he is hits him like a bolt of lightning. He has no idea how much longer your shift lasts, or how long it's been since you've gotten a decent night's sleep, and the thought of you suffering fills him with a strange sort of guilt.

"Long day?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yeah," you sigh. "I've been trying to get this grant application finished, but it's not going very well."

"Why not?"

"Well, the money is for a new surgical wing," you say, and you shrug. "But the bureaucrats at the hospital board don't seem to think it's worth the effort."

"What's wrong with the old wing?" Fox asks, frowning. He's familiar with the building, and the idea that it might not be up to par is unsettling. If it's not safe, then the lives of his men could be at risk. "Is it not up to code?"

“No, no, nothing like that," you assure him, and he lets out a relieved breath. "It's just...not very modern."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the equipment is outdated, and the space is cramped," you explain. “With the amount of refugees flooding the planet, we're already at capacity. It's only a matter of time before we hit a breaking point, and if we're not prepared..." You trail off, a frown on your face, and you shake your head. "I don't even want to think about it."

"I see," Fox says, and his stomach twists into knots. He's seen the crowds of refugees, the lines of injured people waiting outside the medical centers, and the thought of what would happen if things got any worse is terrifying. There’d already been one riot, and the city was becoming increasingly unstable. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be complaining," you say, giving him a small smile. "I know you've got a lot on your plate."

"It's alright," Fox says, his voice soft. The guilt he feels whenever someone mentions the state of the planet is starting to build, and he has to resist the urge to apologize. He knows it’s not his responsibility alone, and yet, the burden is his to carry.

"Thanks," you murmur, and the gratitude in your voice is startling. You offer him a warm smile, and the knot in his stomach loosens, and the guilt recedes. "I'm sorry, I don't usually get to talk about this stuff."

"Why not?"

"My co-workers aren't really interested in listening to me complain about the state of the medical system. They think I’m being paranoid." You sigh and run a hand through your hair. "And they're probably right. We're doing everything we can, and there's only so much we can do with what we have."

"No, I understand," Fox says. His own brothers aren't much better, and he can't count the number of times he's had to deal with their complaints and gripes. The fact that they can't see the bigger picture, the danger lurking just beneath the surface, frustrates him. "Trust me."

"It's nice to hear someone else agree," you say, and there's a wistful note in your voice that makes his heart ache. You sound lonely, and the urge to reach out, to comfort you, is nearly overwhelming. But before he can do anything, the droid returns with your food, and you sit up, smiling. "Thank you."

The food is placed in front of them, and Fox stares at his plate, a little taken aback. The sandwich is massive, and it smells amazing. His stomach growls, and he takes a large bite, closing his eyes as the flavors explode in his mouth.

"Good, right?" you ask, grinning.

"Yes," he says, and he lets out a sigh. The sandwich is the most delicious thing he's ever eaten, and he quickly devours it, savoring every bite. You seem amused, and you watch him with a faint smile on your lips, eating your own food much slower.

The silence between the two of you is comfortable, and Fox is surprised by how easy it is to just sit and enjoy the moment. Every once in a while, you look over at him, and the way your gaze lingers sends shivers down his spine. He can't help but stare back, and the two of you exchange small smiles before returning to your meals.

It's silly, and a little childish, but the warmth in his chest grows with every glance, and soon, he's actively trying not to grin like an idiot.

"So," you say, wiping your mouth. "How's the arm feeling?"

"It's fine." He glances down at his pauldron, and then back at you. "You did a good job."

"That's what I'm here for," you say, laughing.

"I'm sorry I didn't stick around," Fox says, wincing internally at the memory. "Things were pretty hectic that day."

"Don't worry about it," you say, waving him off. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Fox looks at you, his eyebrows raised. You're staring at him, and your expression is genuine. There's no anger or resentment in your eyes, only concern, and his throat tightens. No one's ever looked at him like that before, and the thought that you care so much about his wellbeing is shocking.

"I appreciate it," Fox says, his voice low. He pauses for a moment, and then adds, "And thank you, again, for not dissecting me."

The words sound ridiculous, even to his ears, but the joke seems to work. You snort, and the sound is so unexpected that he has to bite back a laugh.

"Well, I did promise," you tease, grinning.

"That you did."

The two of you fall silent again, and this time, it's more noticeable. The noise of the diner fades, and the sounds of traffic from outside are replaced by the pounding of his heart in his ears. The warmth in his chest is still there, and he tries to ignore it, focusing on his meal instead.

He's almost finished when a thought occurs to him, and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

"I could help you.”

You look up at him, confusion written on your face.

"With the grant," Fox continues, his voice growing strained. He hadn't meant to offer his assistance, but now that he's started, he can't seem to stop. The ideas are pouring out of him, and the need to please you is making his skin prickle. "I know some people, I could put in a word for you."

"Commander—"

"Fox."

"Sorry, Fox." You let out a nervous laugh and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "That's very kind of you, but I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking," Fox points out.

"True, but..." You trail off, and a crease forms between your brows. He can tell that you're hesitant, and he wonders if perhaps he'd crossed a line.

"Forget it," he mutters. "I shouldn't have—"

"No, no, it's not that," you interrupt, shaking your head. "I just don't want to take advantage of you. You have a lot on your plate, and I don't want to add to your workload."

"It's not a problem," he assures you. "My duty is to the people of Coruscant, and if there's something I can do to help, I should do it. It's my responsibility."

"You're not responsible for the whole city, Fox," you say softly. Your brows knit together, and you look so sincere, so earnest, that he can't stop the wave of affection that crashes over him. "You can't fix everything."

"I can try," he shrugs. "And I think the Chancellor would agree with me. It's a good cause, and it could benefit a lot of people."

"The Chancellor?" you ask, blinking. "You'd talk to the Chancellor?"

Fox tries not to scoff. Of course, he'd talk to the Chancellor. He talked to him every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes, it seemed like the only thing he ever did was talk to him.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to hear about the medical center's needs," Fox says, his voice flat.

"That's..." You pause, and the look of surprise on your face melts into something else, something softer, and his chest tightens. "You're sweet."

"I'm not," he mutters, his face heating up. Sweet? What did that mean?

"Yes, you are." You laugh and lean forward, a playful smirk on your face. "And if you insist, I'll take you up on your offer."

"Okay," he says, nodding. He picks up his cup and takes a sip of his caf, hoping that it will hide his blush.

"I'll send you my contact info," you say, smiling at him. "And maybe we can get dinner sometime. To discuss the proposal, of course."

"Of course."

"You pick the place," you add, your eyes sparkling. "And this time, don't run off."

"I promise," he says, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile.

The two of you exchange frequencies, and the conversation quickly turns to lighter topics. The stress of the day, the exhaustion, and the anxiety seems to fade away, and Fox finds himself relaxing. He's actually enjoying himself, and the knowledge that it's because of you is both comforting and frightening.

It's late by the time you finish eating, and the streets have emptied. You pay for your meal, despite his protests, and the two of you step out into the cool night air. The moon is high in the sky, and the traffic has quieted, but the city is far from silent.

"I guess I should be going," you say, letting out a sigh. "I need to get back."

"Right," Fox says.

The two of you stand in front of the entrance, and Fox fidgets, his hands gripping the edges of his helmet. He's not sure what to do, and he's surprised by the sudden reluctance he feels. The thought of saying goodbye, of walking away, and not seeing you again for who knows how long, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Let me escort you," he blurts out.

"I...what?"

"It's not safe for you to walk alone this late," Fox explains. He gestures towards the street, and the faint shadows between the street lamps. “The city is dangerous at night."

"Fox," you say, a slight smile tugging at your lips. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I know," he says, his voice soft. “But it would make me feel better."

"If you insist," you chuckle.

"I do."

"Well, how can I refuse, when you ask so nicely," you tease, and he gives you a small smile.

The two of you walk side by side, and Fox's eyes are drawn to you. The streetlights catch in your hair, and the faint glow highlights your face, casting shadows on your features. You look radiant, and the urge to reach out and touch you, to brush the stray strands of hair from your cheek, is nearly overpowering.

But he doesn't. Instead, he tucks his hands behind his back and follows along, trying to memorize every detail.

The GMF isn't far. Soon, the two of you are standing outside the entrance, and he's almost disappointed. The walk had gone by too fast, and the thought of going back to the barracks alone, back to his empty room and his empty life, makes his chest ache.

"Well," you say, and he's startled to find that the two of you have stopped. "I guess this is where we part ways."

"Looks like it."

You turn towards him, and his breath catches in his throat.

"I had fun tonight," you say, smiling up at him.

"So did I," Fox admits. He hesitates, and then adds, "I'm sorry if I was rude when we first met. It's not often that civilians are so...welcoming."

"Well, it's a shame," you murmur. You step closer, and the smell of lavender surrounds him. His heartbeat picks up, and he's suddenly acutely aware of how close you are. "They're missing out."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he says, his tone dry.

"I would," you say firmly. You reach out and touch his arm, your hand warm even through his armor, and the contact sends a shock through his system. "Thank you, Fox."

He swallows thickly and nods. "Anytime."

"I'll comm you about the grant," you promise, and you squeeze his arm. "Have a good night, Commander."

"You, too," he manages, and then you turn, and disappear through the doors.

He stands there for a moment, watching the door, and a strange sense of longing fills him. It's not the first time he's felt lonely, and the feeling is familiar, but there's something else, something new, that accompanies it. He can't quite name it, but the warmth in his chest spreads through his body, and he lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Maybe Thorn was right. Maybe he'd just needed to take a break. But the way you'd made him feel, the warmth and joy, was something that had never happened before, and it's a feeling that he can't let go.

Maybe things are starting to change.

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