#aside from that I like where it's going so far

[usedpidemo]

Cherry ((G)I-dle Minnie)

For you, nothing compares to seeing your favorite artist live, doing what they love the most.

For Minnie, nothing compares to the continued echo of a roaring crowd screaming her name.

But when it’s all said and done, nothing compares to the sound of her one and only fan shouting her name while he’s giving every last inch into her.

—————

Checking your phone, you see the posts on social media. While everyone else is still inside that stadium, Minnie is nowhere to be found, disappearing right after her 30 minute set, no-showing the arbitrary farewell walk around to the fans. Not that everyone cares or will give her heat for her sudden absence, but her presence leaves quite a noticeable hole in the venue.

Judging by how she’s opening the door to her hotel room, you can guess as to where she’s gone. 

Looking through your recorded footage, her eyes kept a steady track on you, as if she personally singled you out. Giving you flirty winks, subtle flying kisses in your direction, smiling at you even as she hosts the rest of the audience between transitions—the signs were there all along. You were caught up in the moment of her performance to properly notice.

That, and your intrusive handmade banner is quite easy for her to notice.

Speaking of—Minnie’s been holding your banner the entire ride back, finally setting it aside on the dining table. With every glance at your simple ‘I love you’ message, her gummy smile only widens. It’s heartwarming to see your effort be rewarded in quite the grandiose manner. A simple acknowledgement would have been enough—a simple heart, a wave, a general glance in your direction, anything.

You never expected to share a ride back to her hotel before she personally guided you inside her personal place.

She always points out how cute your handwriting is. That you went out of your way to write in Thai, even if it's evidently using Google Translate, saying that she’ll keep it in her place in appreciation. 

And so, you have to address the elephant in the room:

“Why me?” you ask, as your gaze wanders around her hotel room, quite simple in design and only meant for simple overnight stays. You can see the venue you were in minutes ago from the large window, a lifetime away thanks to the nighttime traffic. 

“Because I saw it!” Minnie replies, grinning, falling into her usual idol posture like muscle memory. Hands folded together, classy, even if her still-worn stage outfit says otherwise. Casually flaunting off her tight figure and toned little belly just for you. It’s hypnotic. “Flew in from far away just to see me perform here? You’re committed.”

“I mean—you haven’t performed in my country in years,” you remark, bitter at the thought. One of your driving motivations is to at least see her if the worst happened. Fortunately, they’re here to stay a little longer. Nevertheless, your patience was far past its breaking point, and you had to take matters into your own hands. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to come back.”

Minnie frowns, apologetic and empathetic over your plight. “Sorry. We want to reach out and perform everywhere, but—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard it all the time, no need to remind me,” you interrupt, unwilling to hear the same rote excuse for the umpteenth time. Of course it’s the company’s fault, and not you for living in an unprofitable market for international artists to perform. “But that doesn’t matter now. If you ever go and tour, I’ll try flying out here again, like I did just for you.”

Almost immediately, her downcast expression shifts into a look of joy. “Aw. I hope it doesn’t mean you’re going broke for us. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course not,” is your reply, as if you anticipated this exact response. “I wouldn’t even think about going on this trip if I knew I’d be eating cup noodles for the next month.”

“Sounds fun,” Minnie jests, approaching you and brushing loose strands of your hair covering your forehead. Cupping a hand on your cheek, she whispers against your other cheek, her breath hot: “I’ll pay for whatever you need. Flight tickets, hotel accommodation, transportation—name it and I got you covered.”

“Everything’s been accounted for, but I appreciate the thought,” you remark, your eyes following hers. Staring into each other’s gaze intently, her warmth and sincerity in full bloom, you’re falling deeper in love with her. “I—I just didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“No one does,” is her remark, tone sensual, pulling your head closer against hers. “Now I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Her breath tickles your ear, sending chills down your spine. “What’s your favorite song I did tonight?”

You pause, give her a subtle smile, which she immediately reads. Like she already has a clue.

“I think you already know the answer.”

She breathes against your skin in the shape of a chuckle and a smirk. The song begins to play moments later, courtesy of her own phone.

Minnie quietly mouths the lyrics in your ear, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a feel of her lips kissing your skin. You sense the ripple of her waist against yours, a gentle rustle of her shrinking skirt. You engross yourself in the moment that you don’t notice her hands dragging you with her in the direction of the living room couch.

Pushing you onto the sofa right as the second line hits, Minnie continues mouthing the words to her own song effortlessly, dancing before you so sexily knowing she’d never try on stage in a million years, even with their group’s more risque concepts. Her eyes demand every bit of your attention—not that you had anything else in mind but her. 

A private performance, meant only for you. Turning her hotel room into a club, you’d be throwing what little money you have for her if you had anything left. 

And by God, she loves it. Relishing how whipped you are for her. Doesn’t matter if it’s one or thousands, she lives for the attention and praise.

As the chorus hits, Minnie drops to the floor, stomach down ass up, kicking her heels up in the air, her stare remaining fixated at you all throughout. Rehearsed and practiced, yet looking so natural. You can only watch in awe, wondering how long she’s been waiting for the opportunity, how many times she’s done this before to others, and how the stars perfectly aligned for you to have this personalized moment.

It’s torturing you right now that you can’t reach out and touch her, even if you wanted to.

Picking herself off the floor, she saunters toward you, your nerves tensing with every moment, every step forward. Fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your pants, it’s all purposeful how she moves: every sway of her hips, her hands running down her svelte figure, the twirl when she’s standing right between your legs, flaunting her petite ass peeking through her skirt before squatting down in front of you, an arm’s reach away.

The lyrics perfectly describe the situation: 

“Oh no, here we go. Watch me shake it low.”

It’s like she’s daring you to take her and make her yours.

Her ass lingers far longer than what you can perceive. No matter how desperate you are, you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle, do anything but admire and watch helplessly even as Minnie offers herself to you on a silver platter. Not for lack of trying; your mind can’t handle what’s happening right now.

She looks over shoulder with a wicked grin, as if this isn’t the first time she’s left someone victimized with her deliberate teasing.

As if that wasn’t enough, when she spins around to face you, she drags your hands off your pants, replacing them with her own. Leaning forward, her hot breath reacquainting with your skin, followed by the faintest of air kisses. Slowly but surely, she clambers onto your lap, creating unbearable heat between your legs. 

There’s no denying it now. 

Instinctively, your hands find purchase on her ass, squeezing them hard, drawing a moan out of her. Minnie responds in kind, rolling her head back, grinding her hips on your lap, fanning the flames. Her tummy right in your face, you bend forward and kiss her, tracing a path up to her crop top, resting between her chest. Her fingers find their way around your neck, inching herself closer to you till you can hardly breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this,” she sighs, breaking herself free from the immersion of her own performance. Glancing down to find your face between her bra, she pulls on your face, drawing your gaze to meet hers. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” you huff, returning to kiss her bra. “But I’ve got a feeling this wasn’t the first time.”

Minnie laughs. “No shit.”

“Just you, or do the others—”

“You already know,” she interrupts, cupping your chin and redirecting your eyes back on her, shutting you up. “Now can we go back to the moment?”

Without another word, she leans down and meets you for a passionate kiss. Eyes closed, letting your feelings do all the talking. At that moment, you’re not fan and idol, but two lovers finding solace in each other’s arms. The only break is when she pulls back to lift your shirt over your head before you’re passionately making out to her own song again.  

She doesn’t even bring up the fact that your hands have been on her ass the whole time. If anything, with every squeeze, she moans softly into your mouth, making music.

But you can’t stay like this for long. Not when you’re both close to reaching your natural climax.

Breaking off the kiss for a second time, Miinie takes a moment to admire you, smiling. Her face, flushed with crimson and lust, keeps you in place while she silently unhooks her top, slipping it off her shoulders before tossing it to the floor and joining your shirt.

Before she tries to kiss you again, the sudden music stoppage snaps both your attention. 

“Ah, fuck me,” Minnie whines, quickly climbing off your lap to reach for the phone on the other side of the living room, buzzing loudly as she races to shut it down as quickly as possible. Giving you a proper look at her half-naked body while she hurriedly mashes buttons on her screen, you’re imagining that’s what she normally looks like in the mornings. 

“Well tell them I felt nauseous and had to rush to the hospital,” she says while clicking her tongue seemingly giving instructions to someone over the phone. When her eyes find yours, she grins cheekily, playing off the situation as nothing but a minor inconvenience. “No one’s gonna find out, surely.”

Like you weren’t casually singled out by staff, escorted out of the venue and riding inside one of the artist’s cars before being told to wait inside for a good 30 minutes before you could finally get out. Under any other context, this would have been a kidnapping case.

“Just give them the usual statement,” she whines, annoyed that she’s getting calls at such an unfortunate time. “I did my set, no? That should be enough. No one’s gonna care by tomorrow,” she adds, before cutting the call and the music picks up where it left off.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.” Minnie sighs as she casually lets her skirt fall to the floor, leaving her in only underwear as she saunters back to you. “I probably should have listened when they said this wasn’t a solo concert.”

To save her from further embarrassment, you remain quiet, but your face can’t hide your amusement watching it unfold in real time. One way or another, you’ll never look at her the same way again.

“Gosh, I gotta ask Yuqi how she does it,” she huffs, setting down her phone on the living room table. “Anyway, where were we?”

You don’t know exactly how to respond, nor do you have the answer to her question. And yet you have an idea as to where this is gonna end.

—————

The song continues to play on loop in the background as Minnie guides you to the bedroom, hand in tow, skirt lost somewhere on the living room floor, before falling onto the bed belly first, spreading her legs wide and baring her holes for display. Showing her pussy to you, she is wet and leaking. 

“Fucking use me,” she huffs, looking over her shoulder, voice raspy, losing herself to her most feral desires. “I know you want this as much as I want it.”

“Fuck, Minnie, I—” Not even your half-assed attempt at reluctance stops you from unraveling with her; it’s  laughably unconvincing. Lining your erect cock against her aching core, drawing a prolonged whine from her needy lips, her passionate sigh makes you shiver in anticipation. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You wouldn’t be positioning yourself behind me if you didn’t,” she remarks, pointing a finger toward your cock. “And that thing wanted me the moment I climbed onto your lap.”

She’d plunge your cock straight into her needy cunt if she could.

Instead, she reaches for the tip, gives it a gentle flick, causing your breaths to go haywire. Sparking a fire within you, Minnie only has one purpose in mind: to set you ablaze. You see it in her inviting smile—her eyes—drawing her fingers back, daring you to finish what she started.

Plunging into her cunt without hesitation, Minnie’s cry of pain and pleasure immediately fills the room and beyond. Obscene, obnoxious, you’re making a statement to everyone that you’re gonna fuck her—hard.

Fingers clamped on the headrest, and then onto the pillow, hanging on for dear life. Her muscles tensing and her hips bucking against yours. All while you’re still trying to adjust inside her; you haven’t moved a muscle since entering her. The only thought permeating your mind is how goddamn tight she feels around you.

The idea of unloading everything into her right then and there floats around your mind, but you begin dragging your cock out, now lathered in sheen and slick, before pushing back into her invigorating heat. 

And fuck, Minnie takes every inch effortlessly. Letting you take charge, giving you free reign over her body. With every stroke, every thrust deeper, she fucking screams. Doesn’t matter that you’re leaving gaping imprints on her skin or that you’re hammering into her with reckless abandon, she only cares about the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

Like a man possessed, you’re throwing your all into her, pounding her balls deep like your life depends on it, like this is your one and only chance—which it may as well be. 

“So incredible—can’t believe you’re letting me do this—” you rasp, pumping into her so hard the bed begins to quake. Both your hands rest on her svelte waist, wrapped like a vice as you deliver one devastating stroke after another. You can only imagine how she looks, but you get a sense that it’s pornographic and salacious.

“It’s been so long—” she whines, her voice cracking and jumping with every word in response to your thrusts. Her own fingers are gripped to the pillows, lifting her head to keep herself loud and clear, like she isn’t making quite the commotion this late at night. “So goddamn big—oh fuck—more—”

With her ass bouncing and rippling with each thrust, you’re left in a state of trance. God, she looks so good with your cock impaled in her pussy, with cum leaking and dripping from her holes. Accompanied by the filthy sounds of flesh slapping flesh, there’s no better sight for your dizzy, tired eyes. It only serves to spur you on, to keep you moving—as if you need any more motivation.

Giving her no respite, maintaining quite the chokehold you have on her, you lean forward against her ear, and your erratic breaths—your little vibrations—sends her into upper heaven. You haven’t uttered a single word, yet your looming presence drives her crazy.

“Pull on it, baby. Please—” Minnie cries, pertaining to her hair, barely held together by a loosened tie and prayers.

As much as you want to say anything back, the vice grip she has on you is just as strong, if not stronger. So intoxicatingly tight, gathering your thoughts into something coherent proves to be an immense struggle. It gets to a point where you don’t know who’s truly in control here.

And seeing as you’re doing exactly that—pulling on her hair as you kiss the helix of her ear, unable to keep up with her tempo—you sense the end is coming. And fast.

Still, there’s no relenting. She feels too good to slow down for even a moment, fearing that if you do, this unreal bliss is lost forever. So you hold on, redirecting all your focus on everything else about her body: exploring her back, lifting her on her fours, twisting her body in your hands—anything to keep your mind off the idea that you’re falling apart. 

Your unrelenting pace supersedes every effort you’re making. It’s a relief that Minnie is fucked beyond coherence right now, losing herself in her own ecstasy. Nevertheless, you’re mentally counting down the little time you have left.

“Almost, Minnie—” you coo into her neck, rolling her on her side, lifting her helpless figure, squeezing on her breast. Fighting with the dying remains of your resolve to keep the fire alive before it fans out, Minnie looks absolutely drained, her body pushed far beyond its limit. “I’m so close—”

“Inside—” she barely manages to whine, palming your back, pulling you into a warm embrace, unwilling to accept any other outcome. Eyes completely shut, just letting pleasure freely flow in and out of her veins, rolling her hips up as you thrust into her, your grip on reality collapsing in real time. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her voice goes high, breaks her train of thought as you sense her crumble underneath you, her climax hitting at the apex. The heat of her walls suffocating, putting you in an inescapable chokehold, her legs wrapping around yours—the intention is clear: you’re gonna stay there, cum inside, and lay it all on her. 

It’s only right that your own orgasm follows. 

Holding her through your own end, every second an eternity in itself, as you bury yourself balls deep, letting Minnie milk you for all your worth. Shuddering as your bodies intertwine as one, bracing as every spurt of cum you give her with hits with the same level of impact as the previous burst, like fireworks exploding. Can’t make out a clear visual as your vision goes blurry, so you take solace in her arms as the pulse in your loins gradually dies.

Until the only thing you can hear is each other’s heartbeats.

Minnie’s a delicate treasure, one of one. Despite fucking her into shreds mere moments ago, you can’t go out like this: pressing your weight on her, dangerously close to passing out under the afterglow of your own orgasm.

Fortunately, Minnie sees the scene differently, smiling: “Wow.” 

She’s roaming her hands down your arms, warily glancing at the aftermath between your legs. A fresh puddle has formed on the sheets, now stained beyond repair. “That’s—a lot more than I thought,” she remarks, laughing at herself.

“That’s what you do to me,” you say, brushing her hair side, softly kissing her. As you try to pull back, Minnie sinks further, keeping your lips locked a few more precious moments longer. 

You need to take a breather; blink a few times to let everything sink in: that she’s the one who made the advance. Every single opportunity.

And as the mood slowly dies, as both of you stare into each other’s eyes, uncertain of what happens now, her phone rings loudly in the background again.

You give her this look, as if to say: ‘Seriously? In this ungodly hour?’ To which Minnie merely smirks before rolling out of bed. As if this was expected. Hell, she looks surprised that it didn’t happen mid-climax.

Limping out of the bedroom, making a strong case not to fly out tomorrow, even though she won’t have activities for the next few days. Learning from earlier, she hides herself out away from your view before she returns with her phone in hand, throwing it right in your direction, falling short of landing on your face.

“Not this time,” she remarks, wagging her finger, reading your mind. “And for the record, they completely bought it.”

You can only laugh and shrug as Minnie climbs onto your lap, falling into your arms. —————

(A/N: Kind of a quick one, apologies, not really much time to write filth when you're almost graduating. Currently stuck in thesis hell with only a few weeks left before the semester ends, so please bear with me a bit longer. A few months into 2025 and Blind Eyes Red is still one of my favorite K-pop songs released so far, who knew the lyrics were horny as fuck? That made the rest of the idea a lot simpler. Thank you for reading!)

[bloomseishiro]

ONLY IN MY DREAMS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you wake up from a bad dream about your boyfriend flirting with another girl. safe to say, you aren’t very happy.

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, established relationship, timeskip!rin, reader gets a little insecure don’t be mean or i’ll fight u /j :p just a silly lil bf rin drabble 

word count. 0.7k

You considered yourself to be a rational person. Sure, you had your moments…but didn’t everyone?

You weren’t so proud as to say that dreams never affected you. That was why, after this particularly bad one where some faceless girl was rubbing all up against Rin and he was letting her, you woke up seething.

With furrowed brows and an intense glare, your head whips to the side to find Rin sleeping soundly and blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil.

You huff at the sight, haughtily flipping over to your side and making an effort to scoot as far away from him as possible without falling off the bed. 

Your tossing and turning causes him to stir, and his eyes crack open slightly.

You huff even louder once you notice he’s awake and place a pillow between the two of you.

Rin makes a grunt of confusion as he moves the pillow aside.

You shoot him a glare.

His dumbfoundment only grows and he frowns. “What?” 

“I’m mad at you,” you sniffle.

“Well, I know that,” he retorts, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. “But why?”

“You almost cheated on me!”

Rin blinks slowly.

“In my dreams!” 

Now it’s Rin’s turn to glare at you.

“Really?” he says flatly.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing the bed sheets over your face. “We were at a restaurant, and I went to the bathroom for a little bit. Then I come back to some girl at our table and she’s flirting with you and touching your arm and chest and you’re encouraging her! You even kissed her cheek! What the hell?”

Rin pulls the covers aside and watches you seethe, teeth grit as you hug your pillow and avoid his gaze. You’re too annoyed to look at him right now.

“You know it didn’t really happen, right?” he asks, voice somewhat amused. “It’s just a dream.”

You shrink into yourself. “I know it’s just a dream. But it felt so real.” 

As stupid as it was, it hurt your feelings. You knew it wasn’t Rin, but it could be. Your bad dream brought insecurities to light that weren’t even on your radar. What if someone tall and pretty and confident likes Rin, and he realizes he’s interested in them too? Anger bubbles up in you at the thought. If that ever were the case, you would leave in an instant. But it broke your heart to even think about the possibility. 

At your prolonged silence, Rin sighs and scoots closer to you, draping his arm around your waist in a hug. “It wasn’t real, okay? I’m not a fucking dumbass who would even think of doing that to you.” 

You take a long breath, nodding because despite your overwhelming negative emotions, you know he’s right. Rin doesn’t even like talking to other people. There’s no way in hell he’d let someone feel him up.

“I know,” you say softly and he hugs you tighter. “I can’t believe this dream ruined my good night’s sleep.” 

“We’ll just have to shove Dream Rin off a cliff into some spikes so you can go back to sleep.” 

You giggle at the thought. “I like the sound of that.” 

You feel Rin’s body relax against yours once he hears your laugh. You snuggle deeper into his embrace. 

“You do know I would never cheat on you, or even let another girl flirt with me, right?” he says after a moment’s silence. “I only care about you.” 

“I know,” you promise. “I trust you. Even though you are stupid in my dreams.”

He snorts. “They’re your dreams. It’s your fault for making me like that.”

You sigh. “I know.” 

Rin presses a kiss to the back of your head, his grip on you loosening as he tries to get comfortable. 

“It’s still early. Let’s go back to sleep,” he says in a tired mumble. “If you get more bad dreams, I’ll jump in there and kick the fake me out.”

“Promise?”

He chuckles lightly. “Promise. Once science figures out a way to do that.”

You laugh along with him, relaxing your head on your pillow as you let the sleepiness take over. “Sweet dreams, Rin. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

This time, your sleep is filled with dreams of cotton candy and butterflies. No evil Dream Rin in sight. 

[olderthannetfic]

I saw in an infographic yt video some talking points I’ve heard from Zoomers that apparently Billie Eyelash said in an interview that I straight up call bullshit on. They claim to be so sex adverse because of their supposed over exposure to sexual content in movies and on the internet growing up. Millennials are shown as a sex positive generation while Zoomers are sex negative but we…grew up with WAY more sex in movies and on tv?? WAY more. Also internet porn? You mean that thing we ALSO grew up with?? How is it exactly that we ended up on two opposite sides of this argument while experiencing that exact same exposure? We had porn pop ups. We had porn online. We had crazy erotic fanfiction and crazy sexual fan art too. We had, like I said, WAY more sex in movies and television. Where the hell is this provably bullshit narrative coming from?

I have no clue why they are sex negative but acting like they were traumatized by sexual content too young is verifiably false when the internet and all its unfettered pornography was just as accessible for 15 years before they were even online. It’s just straight up not true. I found porn online in 6th grade and two years before that found porn in romance novels at Goodwill regularly lol I had a perfectly average formative sexual experience in my late teen years and have a happy healthy long term relationship and still enjoy pornography. This has nothing to do with childhood sexual exploration or the insane hentai I saved in my porn folder on my laptop when I was 13. These young people are not having sex and blaming feeling uncomfy on weird fanart and pornhub is just bullshit I’m sorry.

--

Well, when one never watches media more than six months old...

(Wait, I lie: people keep making fucking Friends a big deal again. But, like, other than that and Gilmore Girls...)

Realistically, they're parroting a bunch of hooey from the right wing wackadoos who are pushing this type of narrative in other social spaces. Culture swings back and forth in general. There's a strain of this crap around right now.

The big change, aside from indie film budgets and thus sex in (US) movies going away, is the level of panopticon. It was far easier to find insane porn on the old internet, but it was easier not to feel like an insect with a pin through its middle.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Slide behind the cut, who asked for interdimensional shenanigans and is getting “interdimensional whoring for Timkon”. Bullying your alternate self into having the best sex of his life with his bestie counts as "shenanigans", right? Right?? (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Well, at least his other self knows how to package a check-in in a way Kon will be able to relax for. And Tim himself knew enough to loop an arm around Kon’s waist when his other self said “good boy”, which is the only reason his other self doesn’t get knocked on his ass by two hundred and fifty pounds of incredibly dense half-Kryptonian muscle made out of DNA evolved for a much higher-gravity environment than Earth’s. 

Well, that’s why he’s the one facilitating this interdimensional threesome.

“There we go,” Tim hums. His other self shoots him a dirty look again–probably on principle at this point, really, he figures–and Kon doesn’t even try to stutter out an apology or make an excuse. Bonus benefit to sleeping with an easily-overwhelmed version of him, Tim notes: he stops apologizing for existing a lot sooner, and therefore Tim is kept much farther from manifesting any Gun Batman thoughts. Well–his version of “Gun Batman” thoughts, anyway. 

Technically, as far as Tim is aware, his home reality is possibly the literal only one without a potential “and then I became fascist Batman” timeline that was at least at some point lying in wait for its version of Tim Drake–including several where he was never even a Bat, go figure–but that doesn’t actually preclude annoying visits from alternate reality versions of himself. Which is whatever, since most of them just seem to be just genuinely bewildered that all of Tim’s personal technically-supervillain-oriented plans begin and end with “one sec, lemme just see how open to the question ‘hey can I borrow your lipstick and if so does it come in this one hyper-specific shade of red?’ Dr. Isley is feeling this week”, but still kind of annoying anyway. 

Tim finds the “and then I became fascist Batman” path very narrow-minded and not very resourceful of his alternate selves, honestly; seriously, do none of them know how to deal with their cortisol levels actually productively, as opposed to by just getting unhealthily invested in casework and training and contingency plans to the severe detriment of all their personal and professional relationships and own mental health? 

. . . . . . maybe this is not the only sexually-repressed reality out there, considering. Which, come to think, might help explain why there are such a statistically-improbable amount of potential Gun Batman timelines in Hypertime. 

Hm. 

Tim idly wonders if he could spin “for humanitarian reasons, I am going to be running a long-term background project where I get as many versions of myself interdimensionally laid as possible” to Bruce and/or the Justice League. Probably not, but like, if he tried the Titans . . . 

Alternately, he guesses he could just ask Kon for some backup. There’s definitely some interdimensional whatever or another that Kon would be willing to nick from the Fortress of Solitude to facilitate that definitely just noble goal, and also there’s really not better backup for that particular project anyway. Bernard doesn’t have enough vigilante-grade field experience, he is not gonna take another Bat, and Cassie and Bart are great but like, if Tim was picking who he’d want to drop in on him from another reality and ask to ride his dick for the sake of the timeline . . . 

And given Tim is the one picking, well, that’s just the logical option, then. 

He’ll look into it, he decides, and if it’s feasible he’ll pitch a bimonthly boys’ weekend. Do some preventative work in a few realities/timelines or whatever, just in case. 

Seriously, that Savior dude was a real goddamn trip. 

Tim clearly takes himself way too seriously in way too many timelines. 

Okay, though, all tangents aside, he does have shit to do here, so yeah, time to get back to that. 

“Here, let me actually get your good boy out of these,” he says as he shifts back just enough to help Kon out of his pants and jock. He is not remotely merciful about letting his other self pretend not to notice what a fucking mess Kon made of them both during the process. It’s not like Kon didn’t already come all over his jock, so it’s not particularly subtle exactly how much he comes either way. “Where are your wet wipes? Or . . . maybe that’s optimistic of me, actually, maybe you’re not prepared enough for cleaning up your sexcapades, given I’m not entirely sure you’ve ever had a sexcapade.” 

“I’m not–I’ve had sex before!” his other self sputters, turning red. Tim raises a pitying eyebrow at him. “I have!” 

“I didn’t say you hadn’t,” he points out mildly. His other self turns red. “I consider a sexcapade more of an event, personally, so they’re just . . . hm, messier? Yeah, ‘messier’ works.” 

“Rob,” Kon mumbles against his other self’s neck as he curls a hand against his shoulder, sounding a little drunk about it. Or, well–a little concussed, maybe. Kon gets concussed a lot more often than he gets drunk, for obvious reasons. “Y’wanna . . . ?”

“We want to take care of you, sweetheart,” Tim says, taking a moment to press a kiss against the back of the other’s shoulder before folding up his pants and carefully setting them and his jock aside with his shirt. And, well, sparing a moment to admire the come smeared across his S-shield again, because it really is something to appreciate, when Kon’s willing to give that up. “C’mere.” 

He slips up against Kon’ back again and puts his hands on his hips, and it only takes the slightest little tug or two to guide the other into following him back. Which is actually significantly more effort than it usually takes, but Tim’s going to assume it’s safe to assume Kon’s feeling a little torn between Robins right now. 

He gets Kon to sit down on the edge of the bed and cups his face in his hands, and Kon immediately tilts his face up into them. He looks dreamy and dazed and all flushed and fucked and goddamn adorable. Especially adorable because he hasn’t actually gotten fucked, or really even all that much attention. They haven’t even touched his cock all that deliberately. Or really deliberately at all, in fact. 

Tim feels some kind of a way about the fact that this Kon’s never bottomed before and still let him fingerfuck him without even putting a hand on his dick for it–still let him fingerfuck him without putting a hand on his dick for it, and came for it; came for it easily, even. That super-sensitivity is a goddamn gift. 

Or just Kon is, really. 

And Tim knows how to appreciate a gift. 

“Good boy,” he says the same way he’d say “good work” in the field, and leans down to press a kiss to the other’s forehead. Kon melts into a functional liquid under his mouth and hands and starts purring louder than he’s purred all night. 

Definitely, definitely a good boy.

[konigofmyheart]

long way down ᥫ᭡ pt 4 (end)

MDNI!!!

part 1 ᥫ᭡ part 2 ᥫ᭡ part 3

you took the long way down, but you’ve found love with könig…

(virgin fem!reader, implied age gap: reader is mid 20’s, reader’s ex is drunk + reckless, mentions of blood and light injuries; he gets dealt with then SMUT)

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

people always say time slows down in intense situations, and you can definitely attest to that now. your breath catches in your throat, your knees grow a bit weak as stevens takes another step towards you. he’s drunk off his ass, you can tell by the way he stumbles before you even catch the glint of the beer bottle in his hand. the world narrows to this single alley, the sound of the crowds fading away as you foolishly hope against hope he won't even notice you, that he’ll just throw up in this random alley and carry on to the base, but-

“it’s all your fault”, he hiccups, bleary eyes fighting to focus on you as he takes another step towards you.

you open your mouth to… what? respond? warn him away? it doesn't matter because not a sound even comes out. it’s like the night air that refreshed you so nicely mere minutes ago has now stolen your voice. it helps that he’s always been able to talk at you, not needing a response before rambling on. 

“do you see how i am? …because of you. i’m like this because of you and that-” he mumbles something unintelligible, bracing a hand on the wall to regain his balance. 

this would usually be the point you run, but run where, exactly? even drunk as he is, you’re sure it’d only be too easy for him to catch at you and stop your escape. further down the alley isn’t an option either, you see a faded wall closing that end off. it’d be thoroughly trapping yourself if you head deeper in. it comes down to calming him enough so he’ll let his guard down, just enough for you to slip past. 

“you really don’t look okay. are your friends around?” you ask, your voice tight with fear, praying they’re just around the corner and they’ll come collect him.

“those dickheads… they’re just like everyone else. always laughing at me, never staying-”

smart guys. they caught on to what type of person stevens is quicker than you did. it makes sense, their judgement wouldn’t be clouded by any affection for him, no flashes of the boy you grew up with, of the way he sometimes would regret his outbursts, even if his apologies never really fixed anything. 

he’s within arms reach now, the sharp scent of his many drinks stinging your nose. too close for comfort, yet the second you take a step back, he takes one forward. 

“you should head inside, get some water… or i can go get it for you-” just let me out. 

“so you can go running to your man?” he takes a shuddering breath, his bloodshot eyes flaring with anger. “why do you have to do all this shit? why’d you have to bring him in between us?”

okay, now this is familiar. the blaming, the washing his hands of any wrongdoing to act hurt. 

“that has nothing to do with this. just go back to base, you need water, sleep-” just like before, redirect. make it about him, about how worried you are for him, stroke his ego. 

“shut up!” he shouts, tossing the bottle aside. you flinch at the crash of the glass, practically squeaking as he closes in, your back against the wall you admired the stars from, except this time nothing feels like it’ll be okay. 

“baby, come on… i hate seeing that fucker’s hands all over what’s mine” he slurs, his hands snaking around your waist. 

“benjamin, let go.”

he laughs, a short, raspy sound, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “oh, i’m benjamin now? your man makes you call me that? what happened to benji?” he ends with a sing song voice, actual tears welling in his eyes. 

he’s fully unwell. you’re here, trapped with this unstable guy, the stars just blinking down as if to say they wish they could help, but they’re miles too far. you could cry too, rather you’re the only one here who has the right to cry, but that won’t help a thing. you grit your teeth as he leans closer, burying his nose in your hair, still rambling on about the past, about how good things were, about how you’re such a bitch for moving on. the minute you feel his skin against yours, just his nose brushing against your cheek as he clumsily tries to kiss you, something inside you snaps.  

you shove at him with all your might, wanting him away from you, away from your life, from memory itself-

he snarls- actually snarls like some animal- and then he’s moving quick at you, his entire body tensed for action. 

stiletto’s lessons, her advice and tips run through your mind like a film reel, and before you know it, you’ve landed a punch against stevens’s jaw. it was a clumsy punch, and for a fraction of a second you believe it hurt you more than it hurt him, but when he cups at his face, a look of absolute shock across his features, you know he’s feeling the same throbbing pain you feel in your knuckles. stiletto’s voice rings through your head, reminding you to “strike fast, the moment you stop is the moment you give up your turn”. you sure don’t want to see what he’d do when it’s his turn. the one thing that’s kept him from being a full monster is he’s never physically hurt you, but the unsteady shake to his hands tells you that could change right now if you aren’t quick enough. you’re thanking all the stars for letting you meet stiletto, for having her be so kind as to teach you how to defend yourself, for now you’re elbowing him in the nose, buying yourself time with that blooming pain in his face to strike right under his ribs, knocking the breath from him. 

though he’s been at this longer than you have, it's obvious he never expected you to actually fight back. that was his mistake, his shock and disbelief making him hesitate, giving you the perfect opening. your breath comes in sharp gasps, your own hands shaking as you watch him touch at his upper lip, his fingers coming away shining with his own warm blood. 

something in you wants to curl up now, to hide somewhere- anywhere- but there’s nowhere to go as his face contorts, the blood only adding to the nightmarish effect. at least they won’t be able to say you didn’t go down without a fight, right?

the next seconds seem like a dream, your shuddering breath as you see him launch himself at you again, his arms positioned in preparation to block any attack now, but he doesn’t have to worry about that. you did your part, said your peace, sometimes things just go south like this-

you flinch against the wall as a sudden flash of someone else- könig- intercepts stevens, a grunt leaving the latter as he falls onto his ass on the concrete.

könig looks bigger than he ever has before, drawn up to his full height as he stands in front of you, looking as immovable as a wall. “leave. this is your only warning”, he says, his voice so eerily steady and at odds with the way his hands are shaking, as if it's taking every ounce of his self control to not tear stevens apart. 

you startle as you feel two hands wrap around your shoulders, stiletto now hugging you to her, and you gratefully lean in to her warmth, wishing you could curl up in her arms and forget everything, but stevens’ growl brings you back to this cold, dark alley, to the blood on his face and the ache in your hand-

stevens has always been headstrong, downright stubborn, even when it’s clear his boldness will only yield disastrous results. it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he springs back to his feet and lunges forward again, like he’ll draw könig’s blood, like he won’t end up a mess on the concrete- permanently this time. you blink, and könig has him entirely pinned to the floor, stevens looking like a child compared to könig’s imposing figure- so righteous and solid he could be mistaken for some mythical god. stevens is struggling, all insults and groans, his hands and feet scrabbling at the ground, trying to find purchase to shove könig off, and könig-

könig is so still it’s eerie, his only movement a tilt to his head as he regards stevens, as if he has all the time in the world to weigh his life in his hands. 

stiletto gently takes your hand- the one you landed the first punch with- into hers, her wincing on your behalf as you watch the two men with a numb detachment. “ay, that’s gotta sting, huh, tesoro?” 

könig’s head snaps up at that, his expression instantly softening as it zeros in on you, the tight expression of shock on your face crushing his heart. 

“schatzi-” he begins, his voice so worried and sorry- for what you don’t know- but then horangi is joining this gathering, rubbing at his jaw as he takes in the scene, piecing the story together from your split knuckles to the way könig is pinning stevens to the floor with barely restrained rage. 

years working together make it easy for könig to nod at horangi, horangi giving a terse nod back, communicating silently before he goes to secure stevens as könig shoves off of him, all of könig’s attention now focused on you. 

it's like night and day, the man that was pinning stevens down gone now as he gently takes your hand from stiletto, quietly tutting under his breath, his brows crinkling together under his hood.

“meine liebe- are you- what happened?” he asks, your heart clenching at the way he’s fumbling for words, like it's physically hurting him to see you so scared. 

you manage a shaky “i’m okay”, before stevens protests as horangi pulls him to his feet interrupt. 

“you bitch,” he spits at you, his eyes practically shooting daggers. “you broke my fucking nose.”

“be thankful that’s all that’s broken. were it up to me…” stiletto shoots back with a harsh laugh, her grip on your shoulders tightening. 

könig strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, very carefully avoiding getting his touch too close to your knuckles, his warmth seeping into your hand and over to your very soul. 

“gather your things from base. you’re done,” he says cooly, not even bothering to raise his voice at stevens.

stevens splutters, squirming in horangi’s hold. “what?! you cant-”

“you just assaulted a civilian, and then attempted to assault your superior”, könig cuts in. “i've wanted you gone months ago, yet i tried to be professional. you’ve just given me justification for firing you, nicely wrapped up with witnesses and everything.”

now stevens really loses it, thrashing wildly in horangi’s hold as he curses everything, down to the very stars themselves. 

stiletto kisses the top of your head, giving you a small smile and a “well done, bella” before she's moving to help horangi lead stevens away. 

“we’ll have him off base and banned asap. he won’t bother you anymore, königin,” horangi calls from the entrance of the alley. you nod, even laughing a little as you watch stiletto demonstrate all the ways she would have beaten stevens up as they escort him away. 

“i wish i was as spunky as her” you say quietly, hugging könig’s jacket around yourself, a constant shaking taking over you now that you’re truly spent. könig opens his arms, leaning back a little to give you more than enough space to reject it, to not push you further than you've been pushed tonight, but you gratefully bury yourself against his chest, feeling your heart piece itself back together bit by bit. 

“you did great, schatzi. you did exactly what you should have. i’m so proud of you” he murmurs into your hair, and though it’s must make his back sore to be hunched down like this, you two don’t move for what feels like eons, your watering eyes blurring the stars into a smeared painting as you finally let yourself feel everything that’s happened tonight.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

“you look like a racoon”, you tease, smiling as you catch sight of könig sitting on the edge of the bed without his mask. his eye black smudged across his eyes really does make him look like one of those fuzzy little guys. 

he watches as you towel your hair off, having showered as soon as you returned to base. 

“do i at least look like a cool racoon?” he asks, his voice soothingly filling the room. 

you nod, draping the now damp towel over the back of a chair as you take his cue- his hand held out, waiting for yours- and walk over to him. you place your hand in his, him quietly tutting again at the sight of your split skin over your knuckles. the smell of aloe fills your nose as he unscrews a little container, scooping some ointment out with a cotton swab before bringing it to your knuckles. könig gently rubs the back of your hand with his thumb when he feels you tense, quietly assuring you it won’t burn, and as always, he speaks the truth. the ointment feels so cooling, soothing the sting of your split knuckles perfectly. 

you smile to yourself as you watch him dutifully wrap a thin bandage around your hand, his hands as steady as if he were performing surgery. he’s always so gentle, so careful, even when he proposed you stay the night at base again, for fear stevens might show at your apartment. he instantly added on that he could stay in horangi’s room after you agreed to his idea, but you grabbed his hand, telling him you’d feel better if he was with you. he quietly shushed you when you said it was silly to still be scared, assuring you it was entirely reasonable considering everything, and that he’d be more than happy to be on guard duty if it made you feel safer. 

it really did, his mere presence helped you relax quicker. you kept your hand in his a little after he finished securing the bandage, debating on whether you should or shouldn’t break the comfortable silence, but you had to say it.

“sorry for going off on my own like that. none of that would have happened if i’d stayed inside with all of you,” you said quietly, feeling a bit guilty that the fun night ended up this way. 

könig gently guided you to meet his eyes, the blue like a slow stream on a summer afternoon. 

“none of what happened was your fault. tell me you understand that, schatzi”, he said, his voice the gentlest you’d ever heard it.

you nod, leaning in to his touch instinctively. his warmth feels like a balm for your very heart, and you can’t help but smile as he shifts his hand to cup your face, cooing a quiet endearment under his breath. the way his thumb strokes your cheek makes you feel so fragile, in the best way possible. like you’re some beautiful, priceless treasure he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. that’s who he is. someone who’s so noble and caring with those he loves. you’ve been a witness to what a good friend he is, to how he’s never the type to take advantage of a situation even if everything has lined up perfectly for him. you wouldn’t believe someone like him actually existed if it wasn’t for the very real warmth blooming in your chest because of the way he’s looking at you. 

“what is it?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he answers your smile with one of his own. 

the worst that could happen already did, didn’t it? what’s there left to lose?

you take a deep breath, shifting on your feet, bracing yourself. 

“the reason i stepped out like that was because i realized this had become real to me… that i wanted you to hold me like that because you wanted to, that i wanted you to call me those names and really mean it, to actually be yours…”

könig hesitates a second, his thumb pausing its steady rhythm on your cheek. 

“schatzi, tonight was very… emotion-packed… you might not mean any of this in the morning-”

“i’m fully aware, but this has nothing to do with what happened. i’ve never meant anything more in my life,” you assure könig, the absolute sincerity in your eyes and voice giving him pause.

time slows again, but this time it’s more than welcome as you two regard each other. he hasn’t given you a verbal response, but könig is sure the look his face is telling you all you need to know. he feels like this is some sick dream, life is dangling the thing he wants most- for someone to see him and still want him- right in front of him, just to snatch it away when he wakes from this fantasy. everyday since knowing you has been a wonderful fantasy, having someone who wants to hear his stories, someone who laughs at his lame jokes, someone who trusts him with her deepest secrets…and somehow wants more? it’s almost too good to be true.

könig’s ever more sure it’s a dream as you take initiative, leaning forward to kiss him. he’d be embarrassed about the sound he makes- like he’s been wounded- if he wasn’t living the best moment of his entire life. your kiss is careful, soft, perfectly fitting the delicate atmosphere. his hands actually shake as the other comes up to cup your face too, könig barely managing to restrain from kissing you the way he’s been wanting to for so long. he could die happy just like this, holding his whole world in his hands, but you did go through something very alarming today, you need rest, time to think everything through properly. könig has half a mind to fight himself as he pulls away from the kiss, your warmth clinging to his lips like it knows it belongs there. 

your face falls a little as you open your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks. “ah, did i read that wrong? i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have-”   

könig stops you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before letting his hands fall away from your face, already missing the feeling of your skin against his palms as your apology trails off.

“of course not, schatzi. that was the best kiss of my entire life…i just don’t want to take advantage of tonight. i don’t want you to regret it. how about we talk about it in the morning, when you’ve had time to think?”

you smile at his words, nodding, and then he’s tucking you into bed, telling you he won’t be long. you slowly begin to doze off to the soundtrack of könig’s bedtime routine, the sound of the shower lulling you into a relaxed state. when he joins you in bed, you only have enough energy to reach out and hold his hand before you fall asleep.  

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

your head feels fuzzy when you finally come to the next day, a glance at your phone sending a jolt through you. it’s already well past midday… your disorientation only growing whenyou see könig’s side of the bed already empty, and hear another voice at the door. 

horangi’s quietly telling könig to let him know if you two need anything else, and you hear könig instantly answer. 

“thanks, man, i owe you one…”

“nah, anything for your girl,” horangi teases. “you should eat before it gets cold, though!” he says a bit louder, earning a harsh shushing from könig.  

you tug the covers up to your face, unable to stop the way your face heats at the sound of that. 

könig’s girl…

you could get used to that.

when you pop your head out of the blanket again, you’re greeted with könig’s back as he quietly sets the bag down on his desk, his face lighting up when he turns and sees you awake. 

“guten tag, schatzi… you up for eating? we got your favorite.”

you smile, sitting up in bed and thanking him, you stomach growling to back up your answer. you move to the edge of the bed, laying napkins across the bedspread to catch any crumbs as könig brings the desk chair over, and the two of you eat, könig telling you of his and horangi’s running favor tally. you’re sworn to secrecy about that time horangi got stuck in a vent because of all his gear, könig being the only one on the team able to reach high enough to yank him down, but you two are laughing together, today already a thousand times better than last night. 

you’ve just finished your last bite when horangi’s whispered “hey!” filters through the door. könig playfully groans, finishing up the last bite of his double portion before getting up to answer the door. 

“i’m already awake!” you call out, and horangi now confidently strides into the room, smiling at you. 

“oh good! i’m gonna have to take your man for a little- mission gone south, now they need to make some last minute plans. you don’t mind, right?” 

you shake your head, smiling at the way horangi’s purposely ignoring könig like he’s asking you if he can take your pet out for a bit. 

“go, it’s cleary important. i’ll be fine,” you assure them, and horangi nods at you, plucking up one of the many snacks könig requested for you. to könig’s dismay, it’s his favorite chocolate bar, something horangi clearly knows as he parades it across könig’s view as he makes his way back out. 

“the others are already in the meeting room. let’s go!” he calls, his voice fading as he heads down the hall. 

you set to cleaning, picking up the empty food containers before könig approaches the bed again. 

“leave it, schatzi, please. i’ll pick up when i get back”

“it’ll do me good. it’s relaxing”, you assured him, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. könig smiles at you, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, promising to return as soon as he’s no longer needed at the meeting. 

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

you potter around the room, playing music from your phone and smiling at each little könig thing you find. when you change the bed sheets and go to put the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner, you notice a pile of haphazardly folded t-shirts on the clean side. you scoop the pile up, sorting through them on the bed before opening up his closet and finding the hangers. one of the t shirts is so well loved, the design of that old band he likes all cracked and faded on the front, with a list of dates going down the back. figures he’d have gone to that tour, you’d only heard a couple of their songs but they really did fit his vibe so well. you make sure to add those songs to your playlist queue, humming along to them when you move on to the bedside tables, clearing your glass from your side, wiping down the surface, then moving to his side. you clear his glass as well, also picking up a couple snack wrappers from breakfast yesterday, the brands and flavors already filed away in your mind as “könig’s favorites”.

you return two pens and a stack of post its to his desk across the room, opening the drawers to find where they belong. you set them with the others, smiling at the way they’re perfectly organized. he’s pretty tidy overall, he just gets the tiniest bit careless when he’s busy with work- and now you. a flash of pink catches your eyes as you’re about to close the drawer, and you feel your face heat as you recognize the envelope of your letter… it feels like ages since you sent that letter to stevens, a last ditch, misguided effort to get him back, to appease him over something that wasn’t your fault. 

you find yourself laughing a little as you settle on the edge of könig’s bed to reread your words, cringing at just how lost you were. the pictures set your face ablaze, the thought of könig seeing them making butterflies form in your stomach. you knew he’d seen the letter, he told you as much when you first spoke, but you didn’t think he’d keep it. you have half a mind to frame the envelope, to treat it as some magical token, for it led you to könig, someone actually worth the effort and love that you’d been offering to the wrong person. 

it’s funny, but you can’t help but be a little thankful towards stevens. if he hadn’t been such a dick, you wouldn’t know a good thing when you saw it. everyday knowing könig has felt like a dream, his attentiveness, his gentle consideration, his care making you feel like a princess. you finally know what it feels like to be loved, and to truly love him as well. the very thought makes a gentle warmth, like a slowly crackling fire, light in your chest, and you hold it close, practically dancing around the room as you tidy up some more. 

you’re finishing up wiping down the bathroom counter when you hear the door and his voice at the same time, könig’s keys jingling as he hangs them on a little hook on the wall alongside his mask, and shuts the door behind him. 

“schatzi? are you- ah,” he smiles as you poke your head out of the bathroom. 

he looks around the room, taking in every little change your cleaning accomplished, the room finally looking how it does when he has time to focus on putting everything where it belongs. 

“you are magic. everything looks perfect, liebe, thank you,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again.

you hum in response, one of your hands coming up to rest on his arm.

“it’s the least i could do, i’ve been taking up so much of your time, könig. it was very relaxing, actually. how was your meeting?”

“all good, we sorted out a new evac route for the team on the ground. everything’s going smoothly again,” he replies. “but i didn’t come to bore you with my work…how about we go to the cafe for dinner? only if you want to, of course- i can also just make something for us.”

“the cafe sounds great! i’ve been wanting more pie, but…we should talk, no?” you take his hand, leading him to join you in sitting on the edge of the bed. 

you hold up the pink envelope, könig’s eyes widening at the sight, the look on his face matching that of a dog being scolded. 

“so, this letter-”

“i’m so sorry for keeping it, schatzi. i know it wasn’t for me, but i also couldn’t just toss it somewhere and let your number or pictures fall into the wrong hands-”

you smile at his carefulness, the sincerity in his apology making your heart swell.

“let me finish, or i’ll forget the phrasing i practiced!” you giggle, and he visibly relaxes upon realizing you aren’t upset. 

“okay, so- this letter wasn’t originally addressed to you, but i am forever thankful you found it. without this, i wouldn’t have found you. i wouldn’t know how nice it feels to have someone actually care for me, to think about my feelings, to always put me first. i now know what i was living before was a fake fantasy; you taught me what real love is. you taught me that love isn’t walking on eggshells around someone to not upset them, that it’s not putting up with hurtful things for the sake of the other-” you take a breath, emotion making your voice waver a little, and könig reaches out to gently rub your back, giving you the strength you need to continue. “- you are truly the best man i have ever known. i meant it yesterday- the kiss, and that i like you, so much it feels like its gonna make me burst,” you finish, blushing as you force yourself to look könig in the eyes. those butterflies in your stomach now feel like a frenzied swarm, the way your hands tremble matching the way könig’s hands shake as he takes yours. 

for a second, you two just stare at each other, suspended in this dreamlike haze where anything feels possible.

“from the second i read your letter, i fell for you. your very soul was on this page,” könig taps the letter with his free hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “you are unlike anyone i’ve ever known, that’s why i reached out that first time. it was like a voice whispered in my ear that i’d never come across another soul like yours, that i had to secure a connection to you before i lost my chance, and i’m so glad i did. i’m not going to lie, it was… difficult watching you go after him so determinedly, both because of my feelings, and because of who he is, but i just don’t think i can ever say no to you. not with those eyes of yours” he reaches up to cup your face again, and you’re sure he can feel the way your face is burning with each word he says, but he doesn’t let on. “last night- pulling away from your kiss was the hardest thing i’ve done in my life. it’s been on repeat in my head all day, making it damn near impossible for me to even think in the meeting. i’ve never felt this way for anyone, schatzi, i never thought i could- never in my wildest dreams did i imagine i’d love someone as much as i love you, or that the feeling would be reciprocated,” he said, his voice cracking a little as he finished up.

what a picture the two of you must be, both your faces flushed and eyes sparkling with tears at the enormity of your feelings, but any embarrassment has no place here, not with how he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious treasure he’s ever seen. 

this time, he leans in to kiss you, giving you more than enough time to pull away, but why would you do that when you’ve also been replaying the feeling of his lips on yours since last night? this kiss feels like it’s piecing you back together, every brush of your lips against his like a salve to that burning fire in your chest, shaping it until it’s a steady glow, illuminating you from the inside out, stealing your breath as he deepens the kiss, or maybe it’s you, but you two are clutching at each other like your the other’s last hope for life itself. this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, now you finally understand what all the books and movies and songs were going on and on about. you’ve gone your whole life craving this, and now that you’ve gotten a taste, you need more. 

you loop your arms behind his neck, pulling him down on top of you as you lay back on the bed. könig, ever so carefully keeps his weight entirely off of you, gently coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. he groans into the kiss as you tangle your fingers in his hair and give a tentative suck to his tongue, and now he’s practically folding into you, his very warm, very firm body enveloping you as he braces his forearms on either side of your head. he pulls away just the slightest from your kiss, the two of you catching your breath as you admire each other, and you wonder if he can somehow sense the fire in your belly, desire stirring awake inside you. 

“könig, i want you.”

“you have me, schatzi, for as long as you wish,” he responds with a light peck to your lips, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks at you. 

“no, i mean… i want you.” 

his eyes widen at your words, at the determination in your voice. he holds himself up on one arm, his free hand coming to smooth your hair away from your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek as his hand shakes a little. 

“liebe… are you sure?” he asks, even his voice is unsteady. 

there’s such softness in his gaze, such love, that you know he’d practically leap across the room if you said no, but he is everything you’ve ever wanted nicely wrapped up in a ribbon the same shade of blue as his eyes.

you respond with a breathless “yes”, the word hanging between this shared space, your breath mixing with his when you reach up to stroke his cheek. he shudders, an expression of such longing and affection on his face when he nuzzles into your touch. each little kiss, from the one he places on your palm to the ones he trails down your arm feel like strokes from a glowing paint brush, like each of his touches will leave a permanent mark.

every single inch of your skin is a masterpiece to him, one he worships with a kiss as he ever so slowly pushes your shirt up. he smiles as you giggle a little with each brush of his lips on your stomach, relishing in the way you’re so relaxed beneath him, trusting him with your very being, something that he will never take lightly. 

you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life than you are right now, each of könig’s touches pleading, asking, and thanking all at the same time, stoking that fire in your belly in the most delicious way. the way könig freezes before uncovering more of you until you nod has you feeling the safest you’ve ever been. it feels like everything’s clicked into place, every sense is heightened in the best way, and you know that life will never be the same after this, this sentiment echoed by the look in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you lying entirely bare on his bed.

könig’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven, he must have, because how else can such a miracle be explained? someone like you loves him, wants him, is looking at him like that… it’s clearly not a dream, though. your pulse beating against his lips as he kissed your neck, your scent flooding his senses, and the way you look now has him feeling like his mind is shutting down. his entire world comes down to just you, to the curve of your breasts, the way your fingers absentmindedly flex on the comforter, to the way your kiss-swollen lips part are all things he wants to commit to memory, to have it permanently emblazoned in his mind, to think of nothing else ever again except you, only you-

your breathless laugh coaxes him back to his senses, your “it’s not fair only you get a show, kö,” coupled with the way you tug at his shirt has him blushing hard. in an instant he’s helping you, tugging his shirt over his head as you paw at his pants, undoing them for him before he pushes them down, baring himself to you body and soul. 

you fare no better than he did in terms of short circuiting at the sight of him. sure, you’d gotten little peeks when he’d lift his shirt in training, or the times he’d emerge from the shower shirtless, but this was a personal display just for you. your eyes greedily trace every dip and curve of his body, the way his muscles twitch as if your stare is actually a touch instead mesmerizes you. he’s covered in scars, reasonably so, this is no easy job, but that just makes you want him more. he’s always seemed bigger than life, and that’s backed up with the sheer size of him. you try not to drool at the sight of his length, the way it droops from its weight despite being entirely hard, the leaking tip matching the slickness between your thighs… you feel not a shred of fear at his size, knowing without a doubt that he’ll do everything to care for you, that he’d never hurt you. you just feel need, need to become one with him, to share your love as you shared your breath after that first kiss-

“i’m sorry about the scars, schatzi… i can leave my shirt on if it makes you feel more comf-” könig‘s breath hitches as you reach out to trace a faded scar slashed over his chest, right where his heart is, and you lean forward and kiss it. 

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes practically sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig makes a mental note to write up a list of all the gods he’ll have to thank for you, a boyish grin tugging at his mouth as he guides you to lay back down. he captures your lips in another kiss, pouring all the love he’s kept in these past months, finally getting it off his chest. 

“you are absolutely everything i have ever wanted, meine liebe” he murmurs between the hot, open mouthed kisses he trails from the base of neck down the middle of your chest, pausing to kiss each of your perked nipples before continuing his path to your tummy. 

you instinctively let your thighs fall open at the sensation of his warm breath raising goosebumps on your skin before your mind catches up, your face heating as you realize what he’s about to do.

“oh, you don’t have to-”

he soothes you with a kiss to your inner thigh, his eyes locked onto yours as he settles between your legs. 

“do you want me to, schatzi?” his tone like gasoline to the flame of desire that ignited inside you since you first kissed. 

“...yes. i’ve always wondered what it would feel like,” you admit, unable to lie to him when he’s looking at you with pure devotion like that.

“good girl,” he rewards you with a kiss to the top of your pussy, his smile making you even wetter. “you are to tell me any way i can serve you, any way i can make you feel good and happy. this is a privilege for me, understand?” 

you nod, feeling like your brain is melting out of your ears with the sincerity in his words, in his touch as he licks a slow stripe up your dripping slit, gathering your slick on his tongue. you answer his groan with a whimper, a shiver of pleasure running through your entire body. 

könig’s never been the type to let things slip from between his fingers. everything from targets to promotions are guaranteed his when he sinks his metaphorical teeth in, and this is no different. he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you spread as he loses himself in your taste, in the angelic moans you bless him with as he laps at your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, because it is. nothing will ever compare to your taste, he’ll spend every second away from you just wishing he’d be smothered in you like this. könig would be embarrassed at the way he’s groaning, and practically whimpering as he eats you out so desperately, if he’d be able to have any coherent thoughts right now. your hands tangling in his hair must have drained his mind until only you are left, and he sucks on your clit appreciatively, a thanks for realigning his priorities to what truly matters. 

your vocabulary is whittled down to only könig’s name, “yes”, and “more”, your breath hitching on that last one once his determined tongue dips at your entrance while the tip of his crooked nose bumps your clit. you answer his unspoken question with a tug of his hair, bucking your hips to grind against his face, begging him to keep going, the barest worry of being too demanding quickly quashed by the muffled “that’s it, schatzi,” groaned against your pussy by the giant of a man. any response you were considering falls flat on your tongue, replaced by a downright debauched moan as his tongue slips inside you, your slick and his saliva mixing to ease its journey. you could cry at how your fingers will never satisfy you again if you weren’t so occupied with trying to hold on to the last fragment of composure you have left when he begins to slowly thrust his tongue in and out of you, working you open with such heavenly licks until you’re writhing on his bed. 

only your breathy request for more after a moment has könig sliding his tongue out from you, replacing it with his fingers at your entrance, cursing his tongue for not being able to magically expand to fill you up the way you need, the way your clenching entrance betrays. at least his tongue can make itself useful swirling and flicking at your clit as he slowly works a thick finger inside you, his eyes locked onto you, watching for any signs of discomfort, but you just wiggle your hips, moaning so sweetly and welcoming the light stretch as your walls clench around it greedily. 

his own need is a distant, dull throb somewhere against the comforter, instantly having taken a backseat to your comfort and pleasure, to focusing on not overwhelming you as he carefully adds another finger, light little kisses to your clit turning the faint sting to nothing when he pumps them in and out of you, as careful as if he were disarming a bomb. the little glances you reward him with when you look down have his heart clenching, the pure trust and love in your eyes reinforcing that this is what he was made for, caring for you, pleasing you, loving you-

“want another, please,” comes from your lips, your eyes gleaming with determination, with the need to be able to take his length, have him obeying instantly.

he gently adds a third finger, only his tongue moving against your clit until you nod and tug his hair, signaling he can move his hand again, his fingers resuming molding your walls apart with each steady thrust. your eyes widen in surprise, a breathy whine slipping from you when his fingers brush against a special spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he raises his eyebrows, his baby blues sparking when you stutter a “t-there, kö- right there” between your moans. 

“of course, schatzi- anything for you- so good, liebe,” his praises sprinkled between insistent sucks to your clit work in tandem with the delicious strokes of his fingers against that sweet spot have your back arching off the bed, reduced to a melted mess, moans of his name slipping from your lips like a chant.

könig could spend the entire rest of his life just like this, hearing you moan his name, watching you use his mouth and fingers, your hips bucking to meet his movements, to get more of his touch, but the need to have you cum all over his face wins out, and he doubles his efforts, groaning at the way you tremble on his bed, a squeaked “i’m gonna cum, kö!” making his mind white out. 

his mouth latches to your pussy, greedily licking up every drop of your nectar as you soak his chin and fingers with your release, the vibration of his groans only prolonging your high. you might have actually seen the light for a minute there, your vision slowly unblurring as you finally open your eyes, whining as you look down at könig practically making out with your pussy, his baby blues rolling back as he licks at your entrance. you release your tight grip on his hair, only to have to tug it again when your breathless whisper of his name falls on deaf ears. he blushes as he reluctantly pulls away from your sensitive pussy, blinking up at you like his mind is buffering. 

the minute you hold your arms out, he’s crawling back up, a little surprised sound leaving him when you tug him in for a kiss again, more panting than anything as the two of you catch your breath, the taste of yourself on his tongue adding fuel to the still simmering desire in your very core. 

“that was amazing, kö,” you laugh breathlessly, gently wiping könig’s face dry as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“you are amazing, schatzi,” he corrects you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, you pulling back when you feel his hard length brush against your thigh. 

“here, let me-”

he shudders at your delicate touch to his length, his cock twitching in the air as he hovers over you

“liebe, that can wait, rest more-”

you grin at the strangled groan that leaves him when you wrap your soft hand around his length, his eyes rolling back slightly. 

“what was that, kö?” you ask teasingly, your heart clenching at the little whine he replies to you with as he bucks into your touch. 

his precum aids your movements, beads of it slicking his tip as you smear it over his skin. you’re marveling at the heavy warmth that is his length, your fingers feeling out the difference between the thin skin sheathing is cock versus the taut, slippery skin that is his tip, so focused on your exploration you gasp when he suddenly flips the two of you, you now seated on his lap as he leans against his headboard. 

“i’m sorry, schatzi, but i was worried i might smush you,” he bashfully explains, even the tips of his ears pink as he takes in the sight of you on his lap, your pretty hand looking so out of place around his length. he’s always considered it a brutish thing like the rest of him, so big and long, practically bending under its own weight, but the way you look at it, pure want on your face, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the universe. 

könig did say to be upfront about your needs, so-

“can i put it in? please?” you ask softly, biting your lip as you try to wrap your fingers around the girth of his length, your pussy clenching when you see how your fingers don’t meet. 

“of course, schatzi,” he rewards you with a soft kiss, pure reverence in the way he cups your face as if he’d be more than happy just staying like this forever. könig pulls away after a moment, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as you scoot forward on his lap to press your pussy against his hard cock. “it’s yours, all yours, just go slow-” 

you gasp at the same time he groans, his hands shooting to your hips to hold you steady as you tremble from your hasty attempt to sink down on his length. need made you a touch too overeager, so desperate to feel him inside. 

“careful, liebe!” könig gently warns, rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, the sensation giving you something else to focus on other than the stretch. “we’ll go slow, okay? i don’t want you getting hurt.” 

you nod quickly, laughing softly at the way you really thought you could take it that easily. 

“sounds like a plan”. you rest your hands on his shoulders, his own holding your hips steady and stopping you from accidentally taking more before you’re ready. “that’s just the tip, isn’t it?” you ask, your voice tight with awe and wonder.

könig can’t help the little smirk that forms on his face as you look up at him when he nods. you curse under your breath, biting your lip as your entrance clenches around the bulbous tip of his thick cock.

“promise you won’t push yourself too far, schatzi,” he says, looking at you expectantly. only once you promise does he relax his arms to free you to sink further down, taking a couple inches more, your breathy moan making him grit his teeth to keep his hips from bucking up. 

it’s slow moving for a moment, something könig is thankful for because it gives him time to exercise his self control, using all the mental exercises he knows to simply admire the way your pulse almost imperceptibly jumps at the base of your neck, the way your breathing steadies after each inch you take, his eyes lingering on the sight of your delicate fingers working your clit after he instructed you to, each little tremble of your body making his heart clench as he helps you hold steady to adjust, cooing an endless stream of praises and sweet nothings at you. 

each “that’s my girl”, “so brave, schatzi”, and “that’s it, almost there, liebe” honeys your ears so wonderfully you’re not surprised at the way your slick drips down his length, easing the stretch until you’re little gasps turn to moans of pleasure, your eyes fluttering as you take yet another inch- your hips finally pressed against his. your fingers slip from your clit down to where you’re joined, feeling how little of him is left outside you. 

“i did it!” you gasp, your eyes sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig looks like he’s trying to keep from passing out, in a good way, but he grins, giving your hips a little squeeze as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “told you you’re amazing, schatzi,” before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

how people don’t go mad from this, from having someone so close you practically become one, is a mystery to you. the mere thought of going back to being empty has you clenching around his length, and you eagerly swallow his groans when you experimentally roll your hips and nip at könig’s bottom lip at the same time, digging your nails into his shoulders as he shudders. 

“shieße, liebling” his broken moans are music to your ears when you finally pull apart, panting softly as he helps you rise until just the tip of his cock is inside you, before you oh so slowly sink back down, his length nestling inside you, making a home for itself, your walls eagerly welcoming it. 

könig absentmindedly wonders if he’s actually dreaming, if he’s been dreaming since before he met you or hallucinated you whilst in some coma, but the way you moan and clench around his length when he cups one of your tits with his rough hand is clearly real, as is the blush that tints your face as you realize you were a bit too loud there, but the rest of the world can fall away for all he cares. “you sound like an angel, liebe” he groans against your tits before taking one into his mouth, sucking eagerly, making you whimper even louder.

your moaned “harder”, and the way your nails dig into his shoulders, is like an activation code for him, his grip on your hips tightening. he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, the slick skin prickling in the cool air of the room. before he can even verbalize the question, you’re nodding, lifting off his cock and sinking down quicker than before, showing him you can take it. 

the two of you set a steady rhythm, könig helping you lift up before bringing you back down effortlessly, both because of his strength, and because of how wet you are. you’d blush at the wet, lewd noises filling the room, but that’s the last thing on your mind with the absolute masterpiece in front of you. the way his jaw tenses as he groans each time you sink down, the way his eyes flutter when you clench around his length, even the way the muscles in his arm shift as he bounces you on his cock has you moaning louder. you have half a mind to be worried about becoming addicted to this, but then his tip hits that special spot inside you, and suddenly nothing matters but feeling that again and again. 

könig praises you for each bounce, telling you you’re being so good, so strong, even though he’s the one doing most of the work now, but he doesn’t mind one bit. not when you’re making such pretty noises for him, when you’re looking at him with that fuzzy, dazed expression as you tremble in his hold, when you moan his name louder as his length finds your sweet spot. 

“there, schatzi? does that feel good?” he asks softly, pride in his tone at being able to make you moan like that. he doesn’t let up one bit, purposely angling his hips so his tip relentlessly hits that spot, enjoying the way you answer in a string of “yes”s and “don’t stop”s, as if that thought would ever even cross his mind- 

if cumming on his fingers and tongue felt good, this is going to be a whole other level. you bite your lip, practically slumping forward against him as your pussy spasms around his cock, every fibre of your being narrowing down to that intense building pleasure in your belly, the flames now a wild blaze. könig coos at you, helping you support yourself so he can see the way your pretty face twists with pleasure with each of his insistent thrusts.

“are you going to cum, liebe? you want to cum on my cock?” he asks, his own breath hitching with each flutter of your walls around him. 

“please- i’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a loud moan of his name, your eyes rolling back in your head as you cum all over his length. your mind has gone static, pure white pleasure blinding you as your juices drip down könig’s cock, his groaned praises reaching your ears as if from a great distance, but he’s got you, just like always, gently moving you up and down his length, prolonging your orgasm as you slowly come down. you blink up at him in a daze, your body trembling as you’re now fully slumped against his chest, könig smiling so lovingly at you. 

“that was beautiful, schatzi, thank you” he murmurs softly, pressing soft little kisses to your sticky temple, his tone reverent. “thank you.”

well he did say bringing you pleasure was a privilege, but- “what about you, kö?” you ask softly, shifting your hips to feel his still very hard cock twitch inside you. you sit up, blushing at the squelch of your juices around his cock, and his hands instantly go to support your still trembling body. 

“i’ll take care of it later, liebe, just lay back down-” he gaps a little as you roll your hips, his cock twitching inside your tight heat. 

“let me make you feel good too. i want to,” you add that last bit on at the same time he went to say something, cutting off his selflessness at the root, your heart clenching at the way he looks at you, like he quite can’t believe you’re really there, really wanting him like this. it’s that thought that reinvigorates you, and you decide to prove it to him, getting back into the rhythm of bouncing on his length, his groans making your still sensitive walls flutter around him. 

“you are always so sweet, so good to me, kö, but you have to understand that i want to do the same for you, okay? will you let me do that?” you say softly, grinding down on his cock to punctuate your words. 

you take his strained whine and the way his length pulses inside you as a yes, his grip on your hips tightening. you place your hands over his, giving him the go-ahead to go faster, to tell him you want him to use you as he lets you use him, and he obliges instantly, ever obedient just for you. you moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you up just enough for him to thrust up into your fluttering pussy. you didn’t bargain for another orgasm so quickly, but you can feel that familiar pressure building again, könig’s babbled “thank you”s and “so good”s only fanning that flame. 

your nails dig into his shoulders again as he thrusts up into you relentlessly, your back arching at the way his length has practically molded your walls to the shape of him. you nuzzle into könig’s neck, panting softly as your tits smush up against his chest. his hands shift to grip your ass, using it as leverage to keep up the delicious pace, tightening their grip on your skin when you whisper in his ear. 

“kö, i’m gonna cum again-” 

his pace falters, a strained moan leaving him as he responds “ah, schatzi, i don’t think i can- sheiße- don’t think i can hold it”

it takes your pleasure-addled mind a second to catch up, to turn over what he’s saying before you realize his concern, your breath hitching as he gives a particularly hard thrust up into you. 

“i’m on the pill- it’s okay, you can-” 

in an instant he’s groaning into your hair, thrusting up into you at a pace that makes your very toes curl. 

könig’s moaned “cum for me, liebe,” is all it takes before you’re making a bigger mess on his length, your slick dripping down his length as he spills inside you with a strained shout of your name. 

you two cling to each other, könig’s big hand soothingly rubbing circles on your back as your walls milk his length. you fully lay on his chest now, könig having slumped down the bed when he came, and you stay like this, both panting softly as you come down from your highs with his length slowly softening inside you. you rest your chin on his chest, smiling up at him before placing a little kiss over that same scar on his heart, and he gently cups your face, looking at you like you’ve hung the very stars in the sky. 

könig speaks first, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “i love you, schatzi,” he murmurs as his thumb gently strokes the apple of your cheek, your own face heating in response to the sincerity in his voice, his words burrowing their way right to your heart. there isn’t an ounce of expectation on his face, as if he’d be perfectly content just letting his words slowly settle over the two of you like a warm blanket, but you also must speak your mind. 

“i love you, too, könig. this has been the best day of my life,” you respond with a soft smile, your heart clenching as you wish you could stay like this forever, just you and him, just this quiet love and fullness, and you tell him as much. 

“we’ll stay like this as long as you’d like; we’ll be like this anytime you want.” könig promises, bringing your hand to his mouth and pressing soft kisses to each of your fingers. 

“anytime?” you laugh softly, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “that’s a big promise, kö”.

“i mean it. your wishes are my commands, liebe,” könig says solemnly, but the way a smile tugs at his lips betrays him, as does the way his length twitches to attention inside you in response to the way your walls clenched around him at the thought.   

you spend the rest of the day exchanging kisses, sappy smiles, and “i love you”s like you have all the time in the world, because you do. now that könig has found you, now that you’ve said you want him, he’s never letting go. he makes a silent vow, pressing his words into your skin with each soft kiss. he’ll be yours forever and always, and even after that. 

the end.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

taglist <3: @practicalgauntlet @captain-ofmusic @darkangel4121 @laduenadelswing @galactict3a @nexthyperfix @distinguishedprincesstrash @an0nym0u5au7h0r @venuzdaugther

[ymzkyzru]

“There is someone who will miss you if you die.” — Goo Kim.

I don’t even know where to begin, but Goo despite saying he wouldn’t thank Gun after Gun took all the blame for their crimes and went to prison for it alone. He still got upset when Gun refused visits from anyone.

I’ve always thought that Gun going to prison and taking the blame for everything was also his way of apologizing to Goo for rejecting all of Goo’s offers to go with him 🙁💔

It feels like his silent way of saying, “I’m sorry I can't go with you, hurt you, and left you behind.”

Goo defends Gun’s name when those Busan kids talk recklessly. He even clarified that neither of them belongs to any of those so-called generations. The fact that Goo couldn’t accept people mistaking Gitae for Gun—ugh, that seriously hit me right in the heart 💕💕 He said that aside from their hair color, Gitae isn’t like Gun at all 🥺☝🏾 That’s so precious. It really shows how much Gun means to him.

Gun and Goo are two independent individuals who never played along with that childish "generation" game. And you can see it—Goo’s expression when he talks about Gun. That pain and sadness… he only ever looks like that when it’s about Gun.

And then tonight, he said that line again. Oh God… Goo Kim, you’re so precious, and I truly hope Gun sees that one day. You’ve been protecting his name and the people who matter to him (because as far as Goo knows, Daniel is the successor Gun chose).

Even after your last meeting ended in a brutal fight that left you nearly unconscious, you still care about Gun.

Thank you, Goo. Seriously.

😭💕

[peterm4rker]

(𐙚⋆.˚) nine years shy

⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [johnny x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 3k w. age gap, swearing, very slightly suggestive! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

spending time in bars was never your preferred activity.

sure, it was fun to have some drinks with your friends in a place where you could meet new people. but still, there were a million things you could have been doing instead.

thats what you thought before your eyes settled on the handsome man by the bar, anyways. 

there was a big group, maybe around ten people that sat close to where the drinks were flowing from incessantly. still, even when surrounded by many other attractive men, your eyes could only focus on him. he was tall, his hair brown and his body looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. 

“quit staring, you’re drooling,” one of your friends spoke with a small laugh, taking your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“sorry, what were you saying?” you mumbled, trying your hardest to focus once again and ignore the gorgeous man. to no avail, of course. your eyes seemed to naturally gravitate towards him, watching as he spoke and made everyone laugh; how one of the girls that accompanied his group was very clearly trying to seduce him, and how he rejected her so politely and naturally that you almost didn’t feel bad about it.

at some point of the night, two of his friends had approached your table and somehow managed to whisk away two of the girls you were with, and yet he still stayed exactly where he was in the first place. ultimately, he was the only one left on his table, and your chance was presented.

his eyes were piercing as he watched your every move when you approached, one of his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in curiosity.

“hi, i’m yn,” you greeted, standing by his table and not daring to sit down just yet. “can i buy you a drink?”

he studied you for a couple seconds before speaking up for the first time. “i just got one, but we can pretend you did. i’m johnny, by the way,” he introduced, reaching out to pull a chair out for you.

you let out a small chuckle, sitting down and nodding at his words. “perfect then, nice to meet you.” 

he seemed to be amused by your attitude, judging by how the sides of his lips quirked up the more he looked at you. “nice to meet you too,” he said before taking a slow sip of his drink. “can i ask to what i owe the pleasure to?”

you could feel the nerves begin to form in the pit of your stomach, starting to doubt at what point of the night you thought it was a good idea to approach someone like him. 

“well, i wanted to ask you if you would like to go out sometime… assuming you’re not taken?” you said, putting aside the fear and masking your shaky voice with taking a sip of your own drink.

“i’m not taken,” johnny shook his head, the amusement still twinkling in his eyes as he noticed your nervousness. “may i ask how old you are, though?” the question took you by surprise. it was a little odd, but nothing bad.

“i’m twenty three, why?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

a scoff escaped his lips, once again taking you by surprise. 

he watched as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion rather adorably, and he almost felt bad for the words that left his mouth next. “i’m nine years older than you.”

he expected you to grimace, to give him some type of sign of discomfort at the newfound information. “okay, and?”

a small laugh of disbelief escaped him as he studied your face and looked for his next words. “nothing,” he settled for something simple. “mind telling me what a very attractive twenty year old is doing here with me instead of with the other attractive twenty year olds that were very clearly hitting on her?” his words seemed to start clicking in your head, a small smile making its way to your perfectly glossed lips as you shrugged. “twenty three year-old,” you corrected, “and to be honest, i already know them and i figured you’re far more interesting.”

“yeah? how come?” he asked, his deep voice making the simple question sound millions of times hotter than it should have.

“well, i’ve been watching you for a little while,” you admitted, crossing one of your legs over the other, “you didn’t talk much but everyone laughed when you did, you haven’t really drunk that much and you’ve rejected every girl that has tried to approach you.”

he let out an impressed whistle, leaning back on his chair and taking the opportunity to give you a once over. your clothes hugged your curves beautifully, and you carried yourself with incredible confidence for someone your age.

“you sure are observant, i’ll give you that,” he muttered, amused, “you must be really confident if you thought you could be different.”

he expected you to falter, but you chose to surprise him for a second time that night.

“that, and i’ve also been talking myself up to this and getting courage for the last two hours.”

your sincerity caught him off guard, it was honestly refreshing after a night of dealing with fake smiles and high pitched voices.

“how much courage did you need, exactly?” he asked, his eyes travelling to your glass for an instant. “i’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you assured, setting the glass aside for his sake, “but it’s nice of you to check.” he smiled again, nodding softly. “how confident are you feeling?”

you thought about it for a couple seconds. “pretty confident.”

he raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk still present on his lips. “and why is that?”

“well, i’ve made you smile quite a few times, you’ve called me attractive and you were clearly paying enough attention to me to know that i was getting hit on before i walked over.” you listed, smile still confident as your gaze didn’t falter once.

johnny had to admit he was impressed by how observant you were, but there was still something that didn't sit right with him. “i was a legal adult when you were eleven,” he noted.

“and now we are both legal adults, it's funny how time works,” you joked, looking at his reaction before you stood up from your seat. “but i can see that it bothers you, so i’ll get going.”

he thought about asking you to stay, he really did, but his words betrayed him. “thanks for the drink.” you chuckled as he lifted the drink you hadn’t bought him towards you, mirroring him with your own. “you’re very welcome.”

with that, you walked back to your own table. your mood didn’t falter, the sour taste of his rejection fading with one swing of your bitter drink and your friends loud laughs. johnny watched you from his own seat, admiring the way you laughed and continued your night like nothing had happened. after a couple minutes of admiring the back of your head, he decided he was going to leave. his body had another idea, though, and it always seemed to win.

so really, he wasn’t half surprised at himself when he realised he was tapping on your shoulder. you turned back to him with a stunned expression. “hi?”

“hi,” he greeted shortly, giving you a smile that could’ve easily knocked all the wind out of your lungs if you hadn’t been staring at him for the past couple hours, “mind if i ask you some questions?”

the request was odd, but the way his eyes twinkled was completely overshadowing. “sure, shoot.”

“what's your favorite drink?”

“i don't know… margarita?” you asked, a little confused about the whole ordeal.

“okay… what do you do?” his arms now rested on the back of the booth you were sitting at.

“i study fashion and i’m currently working at ralph lauren.”

“oh shit, very rachel green of you.” he smiled, genuinely impressed by your accomplishment.

“i actually get that a lot,” you chuckled, now invested in his questions.

“do you have siblings?” he asked, back to whatever game he was playing.

“yeah, two, both older,”

“what’s your relationship with your dad like?”

and well, that kind of explained where he was trying to get to.

“great, actually.” 

“yeah? what does he look like?”

“the complete opposite to you.”

“perfect, can i buy you a drink?”

“of course,” you smiled, completely satisfied at how the conversation had gone.

“i’ll be right back with your margarita,” johnny assured, winking at you before moving to go to the bar, leaving you to turn back to your friends and let out a small, completely silent squeal at what had happened.

you didn’t have much time to continue your celebration before he slipped into the booth, handing you your drink and very slickly placing his arm over your shoulders on the booth. “hi ladies, i’m johnny,” he introduced himself to your friends with a polite smile.

both of the girls greeted him back, not missing a beat after checking their phones a second later. “oh, would you look at that? it’s time to go.” chaewon smiled, showing you the screen. 

“is it really?” you asked, masking a glare at her direction at how obvious she was being. 

“yep, i’m so tired,” she faked a yawn and you resisted the urge to hit her.

meanwhile, johnny was clearly not stupid and very, very amused at the entire situation. “do you guys have a safe way to get home?”

“yeah, the boys are here to pick us up,” she nodded, giving him a small smile before waving one last time. “okay bye, enjoy your night!”

just like that, you were abandoned by your friends in a bar with the most handsome man you had ever seen.

“i assume ‘the boys’ are the rest of your friends?” he asked, his attention now fully focused on you.

“yeah, the boyfriends,” you nodded with a small smile.

“either of them yours?” he raised an eyebrow, amused.

“nope, i’m free as a bird,” you smiled.

“good.”

...୨♡୧...

johnny’s lips felt entirely too good as they danced with your own.

they were on you the moment that you got to the door of his house, immediately pulling your focus to him as he pressed you onto the door while juggling with his kiss to open it. it had been long overdue, and so much better than you thought it would be to have him pressed up against you. his hands travelled to the underside of your thighs to pick you up, closing the door with his leg and walking with you until he set you on the kitchen counter. his body settled between your legs, his hands pressed against the cold surface as he almost devoured your mouth in the most delicious way.

the moment continued when his hands travelled under your shirt to rub gently at the skin of your waist, pulling you even closer as you arched towards him. his lips began moving down your jaw all the way to your neck, leaving gentle nibbles on the skin.

your breath was labored once he moved away, his eyes hooded as he watched the faint johnnys beginning to form. “so pretty,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss from your lips.

you felt like you were positively going to explode when his hand slowly made its way under the fabric of your skirt, dangerously close to where you needed him the most. 

as the night progressed, you realized that feeling was constant when being with him.

...୨♡୧...

“so… i’m guessing i should call an uber now?” you spoke up softly after some minutes of comfortable silence. your head laid on johnny’s shoulder, his fingers running up and down your arm gently.

“no, i’ll drive you if you want to leave,” he said, his voice sounding almost offended that you thought he’d make you take an uber at such an unholy hour. “but you don’t have to.”

his words almost made you gasp in disbelief. a man that actually didn’t mind you staying after having sex with you? that was new.

“i’ll stay if that’s okay,” you answered, your voice small as if you were scared to say that.

“alright then,” he sat up a little, giving you time to move away before he stood up. you watched him as he moved, going to the adjacent door for a few seconds before coming back with a damp towel. he sat back down next to you and tapped your thigh gently to tell you to open your legs. you did as he asked you, utterly bewildered by the way he cleaned you up. “how about a drink? i’m an incredible bartender.”

oh, he had already ruined every other guy for the rest of your life.

“yeah, that sounds good,” you nodded, still a little in disbelief. he nodded and went back to what you assumed was the bathroom, returning seconds later and pulling out some clothes from the closet. he slipped into a pair of gray shorts and handed you a white cotton shirt which you put on wordlessly.

he watched you attentively when you stood up, your legs a little wobbly still when you walked towards him. 

“already sore?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“shut up and make me a drink, come on,” you rolled your eyes and fake annoyance as you made your way back into the kitchen.

you heard his laugh behind you as you settled onto a stool, watching him do his magic while he prepared a cocktail with alcohol that looked far too expensive to be used in a drink for a hookup.

“so, ralph lauren then?” he asked as he handed you the glass, looking at you with interested eyes.

“yeah,” you nodded, feeling oddly happy at the fact that he remembered. “what do you do?”

“i work in music, production mostly,” he smiled, leaning forward over the counter. “nothing too interesting.”

you chuckled at his humbleness, shaking your head. “that’s really interesting, actually.”

“meh, if you say so,” he shrugged, an amused  expression on his face. “it gives me enough free time to do other stuff, so that’s fun.”

you took the moment to really look at him, eyes running down the skin of his arms. you had already proven he was quite strong, and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“i’m guessing you go to the gym a lot?” you raised an eyebrow, looking up at his eyes again.

“yeah, how did you know?” the man asked, tilting his head in mocked curiosity.

“well, apart from the past experience,” you began, following his little game. “you look like you could lift me up like in dirty dancing.”

it was a joke, of course.

except apparently it wasn’t.

“man, do i have a surprise for you.” he set his glass down, watching amused how your jaw almost fell to the floor.

“you’re kidding,” you said in complete disbelief.

“try me,” he dared, already having surrounded the kitchen island until he was standing in front of you.

“oh, i definitely will,” you set your glass down and stood up, eliciting a small laugh from him.

he moved a couple meters away, making sure you had enough time to get some impulse before he showed you his stunt.

“ready?” you asked, the anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach being overshadowed by the excitement.

“ready, go,” he nodded, putting his arms out for you. you couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips as you ran towards a perfect stranger you had just had sex with, trusting him with literally hauling you up in the air.

his hands wrapped around your waist before moving you into the air, having you hovering above his head as he looked up at you. you did your best to keep your body firm when he moved in slow, deliberate circles for a couple seconds before pulling you back down and safely on the floor.

“holy shit, you can actually do it,” you breathed out.

“told you,” he smiled, his arms still wrapped around your body. you looked up at his handsome face for a couple seconds before standing on your tiptoes and joining your lips together again, which he welcomed more than gladly.

“is that some type of move you do to get laid?” you asked as you sat on johnny’s lap on the couch, his hands rubbing the skin of your hips under his shirt.

he shook his head with a small chuckle, “surprisingly enough, no girls ever ask if i can lift them up like in dirty dancing,” he said, mocking your earlier words.

“so you’re telling me you had never done that before?” you asked, growing apart from his torso to look at him properly.

“no, but now i know i can,” he smirked, amused by your fake offence-

“i could’ve fallen,” you complained, hitting his chest playfully.

“but you didn’t,” he answered, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist and bringing you closer. “besides, it worked.”

“what worked?” you asked, trying your hardest to bite back the smile on your lips.

“i have a pretty girl sat on my lap right now,” he gestured at your position. “that’s a successful move if you ask me.”

you rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “you’re terrible.”

“sure i am,” he nodded, looking down at your lips before capturing them again.

...୨♡୧...

“i can see your eyes closing,” johnny interrupted himself mid sentence, smiling at your sleepy figure.

“no you can’t, i’m listening,” you shook your head, adamant to ignore how much your body was screaming for sleep. you didn’t want the night to be over, even when you could see the sun beginning to rise behind the curtains of his room.

“sure, what was i saying?” he questioned you, feeling an unfamiliar tug in his chest as he watched you trying to stay awake rather adorably.

“something about jackson's party, you found a dog there?” you tried, clearly making stuff up from the small fragments you hadn’t missed.

“hmh, sure,” he laughed ever so softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him until your head laid on his chest. “you can sleep, i’ll tell you the story in the morning.”

his words made your heart swell with hope.

in the morning.

“ugh, okay,” you groaned, cuddling further into his chest. “but just because you insisted.”

johnny couldn’t make himself stop smiling as his hand went to your hair, scratching it ever so softly.

“yeah, it’s not like you’re-” he nodded, stopping as he realized you were already completely asleep.

maybe a couple years didn’t have to be an issue when it came to you.

𐙚 blue's corner ;; hi there ! soooo, this was originally written as mark tuan fic but since i dont post got7 i adapted it to be for johnny bc i LOVE that man thank you 𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @mae3xoxo @taroddori @hollxe1 + let me know if you want to join the permanent tl ! 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

© peterm4rker, 2025

[akingdomscrypt]

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Six

Pairing: König x male reader (slow burn)

Word Count: ~5.54k

Summary: More trials. And König having a bit of a gay crisis.

Warnings: none. Besides maybe König being a bit anxious here and there, an allusion to child trafficking for military purposes if you squint real hard near the end, and a very very brief mention of suicide in a purely logic based standpoint.

A/n: König is oddly horny as hell for no reason, I didn't set out to write him this way. I was possessed 🧍swear it. But he cannot keep his mind off your body.. ALSO I promise 🙏 promise we'll soon actually get into the meat of the plot, this all so far has just been background shit and setting the framework I needed for the story SOON THINGS WILL START CONNECTING 🙏🙏

---"how to cope when you find your enemy hot."---

hint: you don't

König greedily takes the opportunity to separate his body from yours. The match is over, and he inches away as subtly as he can, away from the other sergeants as well who, apparently, cannot help but make the filthiest jokes they can think of.

König pretends the heat warming his cheeks under the hood is due to embarrassment only and nothing else.

Now he had the time to recover and recuperate. And to try his best to push down whatever feelings you had inadvertently caused to bubble up inside him—down, down, deeper, crushing them into a jumbled mess and shoving them into an iron lockbox.

Next up it was you against the infamous Ghost, and, König's feelings aside, he was quite eager to see how this one played out.

You had defeated Gaz and Soap, and had very nearly gotten past König as well. Put up a good enough fight to make even a giant like himself struggle.

König takes a seat against the back wall of the gym to observe from. Not interested in providing the other two immature sergeants with himself as entertainment—though it seemed even those too were more intrigued by this fight than joking around some more.

It starts out typical enough, you and Ghost circling one another just as the past few spars have gone. Though it looks like Ghost has learned a thing or two from watching you with the rest of the team and doesn't give you the time to think, to calculate your every move.

He's feigning left, then taking a step back entirely when you catch on, avoiding what would've been a counterstrike on your end. Ghost gives you no time to recover from that, grappling you into his arms—restricting your arms just how König should've during his attempt—and immobilizing your upper body.

There's a bit of a struggle but the match soon ends with Ghost slamming you down onto the mat. One arm locked around your throat, the other using his hand to restrain your arms, one leg keeping yours tangled and trapped. All while he keeps his balance with one knee planted firmly on the mat in a wide stance. Preventing you from knocking him over.

Ghost only relents when your body goes limp below his, and König takes note of the exhausted droop of your posture when you finally get back up onto your feet.

“That's all for today,” Ghost calls it, sending a meaningful look König's way before flipping around to handle the others. “Back here tomorrow at oh-six-hundred sharp.”

“Soap, make sure Mouse gets cleaned up and fed. Don't let him out of your sight.” Ghost barks. Soap must sense something in the man's tone, because he doesn't make a single snarky quip. Just nods his head and leads the others out of the room. Only after the three disperse does Ghost finally face König again.

“On me,” is the only thing König gets before Ghost is, too, disappearing out of the room. Leaving König to scramble after him.

König wants to ask where they're going, but that quickly becomes clear when they make a sharp left. Ghost only knocks once before entering, not even waiting for an all clear before he's pushing the door open—strange behavior for the lieutenant, that's how König knows this is serious.

“Ah, Ghost,” Price says when they enter, the door clicks shit behind them, a nod in König's direction and subsequent, “Sergeant.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” The captain sighs, and it's then that König really sees the man for the first time. He looks tired- no. Exhausted. Looking his age more than usual, or maybe older. And König notes that he hardly ever sees Price leave this cramped, makeshift office space. Back home the man could be seen chatting with his fellow officers or taking a moment to oversee training indoors and out. Perhaps taking a smoke break or two.

“We need to talk.” Ghost says.

Price raises an eyebrow, gesturing around vaguely with a pen as if to say ‘obviously’.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh of his own, shoulders dropping and König follows closely when the man takes a seat. Lingering behind his lieutenant on his feet.

“Mouse, he's-” Ghost cuts himself off, glancing up to König again then back down. “You can't tell me you don't see it, König.”

König considers it for a moment, but even he can't pretend he doesn't know what Ghost was talking about. You were dangerous. A walking hazard that they were lucky hadn't gone running towards your maker. Whoever that may be.

“Mouse is.. complicated.” König admits.

“Has he been causing problems?”

“Well, no, sir.. not specifically.” König isn't quite sure how to confront this, how to tell his captain that their team almost got completely demolished by the small soldier (?)—were you even a soldier, obviously you had some type of professional training, but that didn't mean much.

“We were doing a simple sparring match, getting a feel for his abilities. Figured Mouse would not be able to keep up, especially given his recent injuries but.. but he far exceeded our expectations, sir.”

“He took on Gaz,” Ghost adds for König.

“And Soap,” König finished. “He even almost got the upper hand over me. Taking Mouse down took a lot more effort than it should have.”

“Too much,” Ghost, begrudgingly, admits. “I saw how he fought with each of you, I knew I shouldn't underestimate him.. but there was a moment I doubted I would come out on top.”

That. That really gets Price’s attention, both of their attention, really. König snaps down to look at Ghost, surprised. “Really? You looked like you had him handled fine.”

All three of them sat in silence then. If you could defeat two of them, then provide enough of a struggle for the other two who were seen as almost invincible on the field, even if what was supposed to be a friendly spar.. that was not a good sign at all.

You had been easy to catch. Laughably easy. It didn't track with what they all had experienced mere minutes ago.

“I don't mean to overstep, sir.. but,” König hesitates. As if by simply saying it the sergeant would speak the words into existence, they would lose everything. “Do we.. do we even have anything to hold him? Legally speaking.”

“If it was not for that tip we got, he would just be a random civilian who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time..” Seeds of doubt began to sew in König's mind. What if you weren't who they had been chasing all this time?

Ghost turns to look up at him, and König wavers, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, hands twisting together as he tried to string together the thoughts swirling in his head, but it's Price that speaks up.

“What are you sayin’, König? That we got the wrong guy?”

“Well… maybe?” He squeaks, shrinking half his size under the captain's hard gaze.

“He does have a point..” ohthankfuck, perfect timing on Ghost's part, stealing Price’s attention away from the oversized sergeant.

“The note is circumstantial at best, and with all that blood and mud caked onto it, it's pretty much moot.” Ghost's tone takes on a hard edge, as he too is realizing that they all really had, well.. nothing to hold you on. “Even with all the strange shite he was spittin’ when we captured the runt. Could easily be washed away with the excuse of delusion due to blood loss.”

“Even the video evidence..” Price murmurs in agreement, followed by a heavy sigh as the man drags a hand down his face. “It's all blurry, and of cloaked, hooded figures in black. Faces covered and of varying heights and builds.. fuck.”

“Do we have.. anything?” König reluctantly asked, regretting opening his mouth again when Price's eyes immediately locked on him again. The captain sat up a little straighter, reaching for the papers on the desk and shifting them around.

“We have one thing..” Price doesn't expand on that idea further, mouth pulling into a thin line. There's a far away look in the man's eye, but König knew better than to question his captain. “You two are dismissed.”

“But-”

“I have enough to keep him. For now.” Price waves them away. “Now begone, shoo, I've got work to do.”

König puts his hands up in mock surrender while Ghost grumbles an amused, “yessir.” Then the two of them are out of the office, and more importantly, out of the captain’s hair.

“Thought you had left me here for dead.” Are the first words out of your mouth when König arrives back at the room you two unofficially share. König turns after locking the door behind him—by now he's certain you wouldn't try to escape, but it didn't hurt to be cautious and the bolt would at least slow you down in the case he was wrong—raising an unimpressed brow as he considers you.

You. Sitting there, on what used to be his (unofficial, again) bed, small and cute- dripping wet. Getting water all over the thin mattress. Looking like a drowned dog.

“They give you a towel..?” König's words are met with a scoff on your end and he is surprised you don't cross your arms over your chest and pout. Or, well, he supposed he didn't know whether you were actually pouting or not. Given the mask obscuring your features. Speaking of the mask..

“You do not take it off even to shower?” He asks, eyeing your damp—that had to be uncomfortable, did you really not trust them that much?—mask. The fabric leaking little droplets that raced down the column of your throat.

König tries not to linger on the other ideas that sight shoved into his mind.

He also pretends not to acknowledge the odd feeling that stirs in his chest, knowing you would rather-

“Just enjoy waterboarding yourself, then?”

Do that then risk being seen by them—by him. Fair enough, he supposed, it wasn't like you had been there long. Or had joined willingly—but you were here willingly, weren't you? …Ah, decidedly, you weren't. It was either this or- or death. Because they couldn't let you go, not when they couldn't even imprison you for your crimes—crimes they weren't even sure you had committed.

“Mm, something like that.” You retort. If König didn't know any better, he would assume the damn thing was glued onto your face. What kind of person used a straw like that if not because the thing was stuck on? That must be it; the thought elicits a private huff from the sergeant.

“What is so funny? I don't see you taking yours off either.” And there it is, crossing your arms like a defiant child, König bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing at the comparison.

“You are not with me all the time.” He says instead.

“Yeah, right,” you say, grumbling, a furrow to your eyebrows König refuses to admit is almost- almost adorable in some way. “You are practically glued to my hip half the time. I'm almost surprised you do not drag me with when you go to piss or something.”

“You think about me peeing often?”

“Only the healthy amount.”

“Uh huh, that so?”

“It is.” König can hear the smile in your voice—a real shame he can't see it—and breaks himself. Cracking a grin of his own under his hood, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. It's not too long ago that he had held a blade to your throat—the same damn throat that was stupidly tempting when still damp with water, could do easily be mistaken as being slick with sweat-

It looked so out of place, the mask. The only black piece of clothing on you, mismatched when paired with the oversized shirt and pants, a belt cinched tight around your waist to hold the latter of the two up. König definitely doesn't briefly consider what it would be like to tug it down.

That would be unprofessional.

And he certainly doesn't have to force his eyes away from your body, thankful once more for the hood to shield his blush from view, and push his body to take a seat at the little desk in the corner instead.

“You should rest.” He says, stupidly keeping his back to you. But it was better than letting the little beast in his mind continue to devour the sight of you. “The lieutenant's got more in store for you tomorrow.”

There's a sigh a few moments later, joined by the rustling of fabric as, König assumes, you get comfortable on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah…” you murmur. “Just don't kill me in my sleep.”

“I make no promises.”

König was a fool. It was the next day—his back twinged now and again after he accidentally fell asleep at that tiny desk—and he really, really should not be as excited for this as he was.

Gaz held the record, Soap close behind. A part of König hoped you would surpass it.

All in all, he was a foolish man. A foolish man who was horribly excited to see you run this course. To see you sweaty and panting with exhaustion- and pocket that imagery later to think back on in a wholly different context.

König can't remember the last time he felt like this. It was dumb, beyond foolish—how many times was he going to say that?—, and so on.

You were the enemy still, technically. Yet his mind appeared to be hooked on the idea of you being so much more than that.

He was slipping up—promised himself he never would again, not after what happened the last time he let another occupy his mind like this—and not even bothering to try and catch himself before he fell. Hard.

And with no one there to catch him this time.

You're running this course with Soap and Gaz; Ghost had decided to keep him on the sidelines to help observe the three of you. It's just a simple obstacle run, nothing but climbing and sprinting and rolling around in mud. Alejandro had agreed to give them free reign over this area for the afternoon, the set up was a bit different than the one back home, but the premise was the same. First one to the end won.

Ghost was betting on Gaz,

“The lad holds the record in the other, why not this one as well? And that's with a gun, this should be a milk run for our boys.”

“Shouldn't you be rooting for your boyfriend?”

Ghost sends him a glare, but König snorts, knowing it held no heat behind it.

“Mind your own, Sergeant.”

“Just saying..”

“Soap is plenty good, but we all know Gaz is the most proficient in speed and agility.”

“Right, right,” König nods along, finding it impossible to keep the grin out of his tone. “As we all know, you have a thing for the beefy ones.”

Ghost elbows him, and König supposes he deserves that one, even as he silently chuckles. Shoulders shaking along with his amusement.

“Shut it, before I send you in there with them.”

König straightens up. “You wouldn't.”

“I would.”

“Mm, you would.” As much as König loved suffering under the heat of the sun—even in the winter, it was a far cry from the frigid temperatures back home—, he also loved keeping his dignity intact. However little was left. And getting distracted by you and ending up dead last would absolutely destroy the last bit he was clinging to.

“Maybe I should,” Ghost pipes up again a few moments later—they’re still waiting on Gaz, who had to make a brief visit with Price this morning—, though the lieutenant's sights are still on you and Soap. The two of you goofing around over by the course. “Give you somethin’ nice to look at, trip you up, knock you down a peg..”

“You are a heartless man, Ghost.”

“You started it.” Ghost says with a shrug, but König doesn't miss the squint of his eyes, following his gaze to catch as Soap says something and you turn around to playfully shove at him.

“What are you, five?”

“Oh, for sure. Didn't you know? You've been following the orders of a toddler all this time.”

“Now that I think about it, that makes a ton of sense, sir.”

Jealousy. König recognizes it with an amused huff. Then he watches as Soap does the same to you, a big grin on the Scot’s face as he does it, and König can't even pretend he doesn't know how Ghost feels.

Only it's a bit different. As Ghost is actually dating the erratic pyromaniac.

And you're not attainable. For him, or for anyone.

“Uh huh, righ’,” Ghost speaks after a moment of silence, and König had almost forgotten they were talking- seriously, what could possibly be so funny to have you giggling like that? König can't hear it from here, unsure if you're even making any sound. But people don't just double over like that unless it's from laughter.

“You both are hopelessly pathetic.” A voice from behind them jolts both men out of their reverie, turning at the same time to catch sight of Gaz standing behind them.

“Christ, it's creepy when you lot do that.” Gaz shivers under their duel stares, breaking the tension König hadn't even realized had sprouted in the air. “We ready to start, or…?”

Ghost turns back around and Gaz tracks the man's stare, barking out a laugh when he puts the pieces together. “Don't worry, he's all yours, big man,” Gaz says, patting Ghost in the shoulder.

Ghost shrugs it off, grumbling.

“Soap, Mouse, line up!” Gaz calls on his way over to the other two, Soap calls something back but König isn't paying attention. Too caught up on the little glimmer in your eye, a far cry from the dullness that has resided there these past weeks.

If König didn't know any better, he would say you look almost fond as your gaze flicks between the two sergeants. A look that soon shifts into something deeper, darker. Longing.

You glance away then, and König catches your eye. Giving you a small nod not even he knows the meaning behind, but it works and you perk up again just the slightest bit.

“Alright. Enough goofing off, you three.” Ghost barks. Full lieutenant mode is back, it seems.

You come in first place, not even looking a smidge out of breath. König pretends he had been paying attention to all three of the men on the course, but he wouldn't be able to recite a thing if asked. Ghost doesn't ask.

Good. Because he's certain the lieutenant doesn't want to hear all about the way König had stood there on the sidelines, categorizing all the different, minute shifts, the tense and release, of all the muscles in your arms, the ones peaking out in the glimpse he could get of your back. Watching closely as you pull yourself up the wall in just a few bounds—too short for just a running start to get yourself up, but a quick burst of energy from kicking against the wall is more than enough to boost you.

There isn't even a speck of sweat on you when it's all said and done, and König swears he's probably perspiring more than you from simply standing there. Observing.

Ghost knocks him out of his doomed, one track mind before calling time. You first, with Soap and Gaz just barely lagging behind. Gaz, predictably, gets there a mere millisecond before Soap, but Soap doesn't get any pity points from his boyfriend.

The only difference between you and the two sergeants is that they, at least, appear like they just ran a full obstacle course. You, on the other hand, look as if you've just gone for a casual walk in a park. Eyeing the other two with—adorably—furrowed eyebrows, as if confused as to why Soap and Gaz are a bit out of breath.

“Christ above,” Soap takes the offered water from Ghost when he gets close enough, wheezing a bit. “Ah'm never doin’ that again.”

“It was just an ordinary course, Sergeant.” Ghost says, but König heard the hint of humor in the man's tone.

“Ordinary my arse,” Soap grumbles after gulping down half the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The set up, maybe. But Ah'm pretty sur’ I best ma’ own damn time.”

Ghost looks down, checking the little scribbled down time stamps he'd made in his wrist. A small doodle representing each of the three and the times right beside it. “You did.”

“Huh??”

König snorts, listening in even as his eyes flick up to catch sight of you again. Still chatting with Gaz, and looking so, so confused by all of this.

“You and Gaz both,” Ghost clarifies. “Both of you beat your own record.”

“Ach, damn. Ah knew I was pushin’ mahself, but I dinnae think it was that much.”

“Not confident in your own abilities, Soap?” König teases, glancing down at the other sergeant just in time to catch his pout.

“S’not like tha’,” Soap grumbles, but now that he's been able to catch his breath, his words gradually become more intelligible again. “You're runt just cleared us with zero effort, dinnae even look back. Had to push ourselves just to keep up.”

“And yet you still came in last.”

“Gaz is a speedy bastart, nothin' can help that.”

Ghost puts a hand on Soap's shoulder, the latter leaning into the touch just barely. And soon enough the lieutenant is calling out the next instructions. Soap soon disperses to join you and Gaz once more.

“C'mon now, inside. This time it's just you, Mouse.”

Again, this next one is similar to what they have back home, but just different enough to be interesting. A typical small urban layout with cardboard cutouts as targets. Some that moved, some that stayed stationary, and others that popped out at you when triggered.

“Just me? I am honored.” You interject when close enough. Leaving the two spent sergeants behind to join Ghost and König at the front.

“What are we doing this time? Another obstacle thing?”

“Sort of,” Ghost says. “Jus’ your typical urban combat setting. I'll set another timer, see how quick you can get in and out without losing any points or having time added to your overall score.”

“Sounds straightforward enough.” You nod along, soon coming up to a door which König opens, letting the four of you file in first.

“It should be.” König muses, letting the heavy door fall shut behind you all with a weighted clunk.

The temperature is vastly cooler indoors when compared to the stifling warmth of outside—why, why is it warm in winter??—and König can finally breathe easily again.

“Who knows,” Ghost cuts in. “Maybe you'll even beat Gaz’s record.”

The possibility put open into the air drags a deep, exaggerated groan from the sergeant in question.

“Why, Ghost, whyyy? Don't say that! You're goin’ to speak it into existence!”

Ghost shrugs, dismissive, but they all—with the exception of you—, see that the action contained an underlying thrum of amusement.

Ghost gives you the brief rundown while the other three find their place from which they will sit and observe.

“Do ya think he'll manage it?” Soap asks from König's left, nudging his arm with an elbow to get König's attention.

“To beat Gaz? Or have a good score?”

Gaz grumbles something to König's right, but Soap responds before he can tease the man some more.

“Uh, both? But mostly the first. Y’don’t think he can really do it, d’ya?”

“I'd say it's best we don't underestimate him,” Ghost interrupts, coming over to sit on Soap's other side. Apparently he had already gotten you set up. “At all. The runt's already far exceeded our expectations.”

The three nod along in agreement with their lieutenant.

“That's for sure,” Gaz says. Obviously the man isn't truly that worked up over the possibility of you surpassing his old score, but the easy jokes were more manageable than facing the reality that they still had no idea who—what—they were dealing with.

They knew nothing about you, a persistent fact that bothered König more and more every time it resurfaced in his mind. They didn't know your real name—if you even had one—, nor did they know where you came from. They had found you, here, in Mexico, but that didn't mean this is where you originated from.

No origin, no name, no age, no clear goals or motivation. No purpose. It was almost suspicious, with nothing—at least surface level—to live for, it was a wonder you hadn't simply.. well, to put it bluntly, committed suicide yet. Taken the easy way out.

Not that he would ever want that, but from a purely logical standpoint.. it made the most sense. Which, given that you were still here and had something to prove, there must be something you were doing all of this for.

An oath? Responsibility? Someone to return to?

Something to live for. Someone to live for. To greet you when it was all over, whatever ‘it’ was in the first place.

Maybe that was the key. You had someone waiting on you. A friend? Someone more—though given your clear disdain for socialization at any point, König figured that wasn't the case, but he couldn't rule it out, and he ignored the way that made him feel. Or, rather, didn't make him feel.

You were enemies. Reluctant allies at best. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Rubber?” Soap's voice brings König back into reality, the four of them watching you do a brief inspection of the weapon you had been given for this test.

Ghost shakes his head, negative. “Paint.”

“Paint?”

“Need to see where the shots land, but the last thing I wanted was to give him a real firearm. Rubber hurts more. So paint it is.”

Huh, König doesn't think he's ever seen anyone do that before. Not that it would be more difficult, maybe a little light if the faux weapon wasn't properly weighted. Other than that, you shouldn't be at any disadvantage. Or advantage.

König zones back in to watch you work the moment the alarm blares through the speakers, signaling the start of the course.

They watch you run through the twists and turns of the mock interior of a home, and it puts König on edge when you somehow manage to predict where the cutouts are going to spring out before they even happen. Some you aren't even in the same room as. In a run you've never been through before.

It reminds König of that time before, when you picked up on the sounds of apparent bombs. A noise Gaz nor himself ever were able to hear. Not until the detonation itself.

Could it be.. could it be that you were just naturally gifted with excellent hearing? Or maybe it was the vibrations of the sound waves in the floors.. no, that wasn't right.

König suspects even someone with ears in perfect condition, never damaged and born with zero imperfections, would be able to hear the things you do. You have.

This wasn't human. It wasn't natural. It was technical. Man-made. Enhancement.

Of course, devices to aid in hearing weren't unheard of. But that's just what they were. Assistive device. Designed to give those with hearing impairments the chance to experience what the average person did, or close to.

They didn't do.. this. And those eyes. König had thought it was his imagination when it first happened, back in the little city along the border. A reflective glare, like a cat's when a phone tried to capture them in the dark.

He catches it again when you turn into a darker room—once again locking onto a target before it gets the chance to even straighten out—a little sheen. A reflection when the overhead lights hit just right.

This wasn't some fantasy bullshit, obviously you were human. There was no other option. But you were for certain.. enhanced.

That brought up questions of how? Why? Who? And, further, what was the purpose of it? If you had increased hearing and sight, what other senses had gotten the same treatment? What were the limits?

Were there any limits?

Who did this to you? Why? Were there more like you?

A sinking feeling tells König he doesn't want to know the answer to that.

19.8, that's your final score. Gaz is, understandably, thrilled by this. Letting out a loud whoop and springing to his feet.

“I'm just glad I can keep my dignity after the disaster of the last run.” Gaz says, turning to Soap and clapping his palm down on his shoulder with a deep, dramatic sigh. “Can't say the same for you, mate.”

“Oi, shove off,” Soap grumbles, swatting the other man's hand away while Ghost looks on with amusement.

König's attention is drawn away by your approach, a slight crinkle to your brow that grabs his focus. Odd. You should be thrilled by this, few managed to get below Soap's score, much less beat the Scot and almost reach Gaz as well.

Ghost starts to go over your score with you, but König doesn't zone in on that. No. He pays mind to your stiff posture and wonders briefly if your injuries were acting up again. Perhaps that was the source of your soured mood.

When all is said and done you're dismissed with a wave and barked order that you would meet back here again tomorrow. More testing—more opportunity to watch how you move, to gauge your responses and capabilities. To understand how exactly they would need to act if they had to put you down, if it came down to that.

The walk back to your shared sleeping quarters is short, and you keep up with König better than expected after today's adventures.

Once you both are back in the room, though, that is when you finally break your silence. You had been quiet when Ghost had given you the rundown, not even joining Soap and Gaz in their banter like you had after the first test.

“What the fuck was that?” You growl, flipping around to face König as he locks the door behind you both.

“Mm?” He inquires, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Huh. König had thought things had been going well. Guess he had been wrong.

“Do not give me that look.”

König's frown deepens, completely out of his depth here. Was he supposed to know what you were talking about.. comfort you maybe? How would he even begin to do that? He didn't know why you were upset- and surely it wasn't his responsibility to comfort the enemy-turned-reluctant-ally.

“Ughh!” You throw your arms up and turn around, just in time before König can catch the wince you make because of the action.

“I truly do not understand, Maus..” König mumbles, eyebrows scrunched together as he drags his gaze over your body again and again. This time under completely innocent intentions, truthfully. He just cannot comprehend what could possibly be bothering you.

“Does your shoulder hurt? Your leg?” He asks, probing for more information. If he could just figure this out then he could get you to sleep, get out of these damn clothes and into something comfortable, maybe take a shower..-

“Are you kidding?” You huff, one gloved hand dragged roughly down your face.

“Uhh.. nein?” König shuffles in place, his shoulders curling in slightly. He's exposed, more vulnerable than he's felt in years and he's not even in public this time. König just desperately hopes you don't turn around—doesn’t think he could handle being seen right now. Being observed.

“Fine. Fine.” You flip down on the thin cot, both hands over your face, grumbling. König lets out a small breath of relief when you don't look at him. “Pretend you don't know. Like you all weren't making a complete fool of me out there. Giving me those stupid, easy assessments. The kind of shit fucking teenagers know how to do.”

König is yanked from his spiraling thoughts. Teenagers? What did- what?

“I don't understand.” König finds himself repeating, dumbly. “You beat two out of five of the best soldiers in this regime. You nearly broke a years long standing record, injured, mind you. How were we treating you like a, uh, ‘fool’, or so you say.”

König catches you peeking out from between your fingers, confusion swirling in those striking hues.

“What?”

“What?” König parrots.

“You are telling me..” you begin, pushing yourself up into a seated position. “That.. that was a good score? A good run?”

“Uhh.. yes?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“... Yeah, goodnight then, König.”

And the conversation is over, leaving König utterly puzzled. “Okay…”

König drags out the last syllable, muttering to himself under his breath as he turns around, grabs a change of clothes, and dips out of the room. Locking it firmly behind him. He needed to speak with Ghost again, then probably Price too.

First, a shower.

__

Masterpost | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Next..

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[spellbound-rosehearts]

WORDS UNSPOKEN : CHAPTER 5

yuu falls asleep first, for once, and leona wrestles with feelings that he never meant to have.

pairings: leona kingscholar x yuu

warnings: none

notes: this is my fav chapter so far. i hope you all are as obsessed with this story as i am! i’m having so much fun writing it! leave me a comment and let me know what you think so far!

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 6

leona leaned back on the worn couch, lazily tossing a ball of crumpled paper into the air and catching it again, half-listening as yuu scribbled furiously at the coffee table. her textbook lay open in front of her, pages crinkled at the edges, highlighter marks everywhere.

"don’t over-complicate it," he drawled, watching her fumble for the right answer on her worksheet. "focus on the key concepts. break them down into smaller parts. if you keep trying to memorize every little detail, you're just going to burn yourself out."

yuu nodded, her gaze fixed on the paper in front of her. leona paused and watched her for a moment. she looked tired, the kind of tired that dragged at her shoulders and made her blink a little too slow, but stubbornness kept her going.

“you still with me?” he asked, his tone more sarcastic than concerned.

she blinked rapidly. "yeah, i’m good. keep going."

“alright,” he said after a second. “tell me again, what's the rule for conjuration theory?"

she sat up a little straighter, like she was rallying her energy. "the...uh, law of proportional trade. you have to sacrifice an equal amount of energy to create a new magical object."

leona nodded once, satisfied. "good. you might actually pass."

she let out a weak groan and slumped over her notebook. "miracles do happen."

he smirked and pushed himself up, stretching his arms above his head and wincing as his joints cracked quietly. he then leaned over and flicked her lightly on the side of the head with two fingers.

"good luck, herbivore,” he said, but his voice had softened. “you’re going to need it.”

yuu mumbled a soft "thanks" before diving back into her notes.

he left her to it, claiming his usual spot by the window where the sunlight spilled in. he sprawled out there, arms behind his head, prepared to doze off.

the minutes dragged by in a thick, heavy quiet.

until... the silence in the room shifted. the sounds of pen scribbling across the paper had stopped, and the soft rustling of pages was absent. it was too still.

leona cracked one eye open suspiciously, and then he saw her.

yuu had fallen asleep. her face was relaxed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her breath even and steady. the book she'd been so intent on studying now served as a pillow, and the pen had fallen from her hand, lying abandoned beside her.

leona stared at her for a long moment, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. then he narrowed his eyes.

typical.

stupid herbivore, working herself into the ground like that.

his first instinct was to leave her be. but she looked so small like that, folded over the coffee table, shoulders curled in. the quiet little sigh she let out as she shifted ever so slightly made something tighten in his chest. it almost felt like a string tugging him forward. annoying, insistent, undeniable.

he could just ignore it. that was what he usually did. he was good at detachment, at keeping people at arm’s length. let her sleep, let her wake up sore and cold and alone, and maybe she’d learn her lesson.

but the tug wouldn’t let go. it never did when it came to her.

his body betrayed him before his mind had even finished the thought, and he stood up.

with slow and silent steps, he moved over to the back of the couch where an old, battered blanket was draped. he shook it out once, sending a puff of dust into the air. then, with a carefulness that was foreign to him, he draped the blanket around her shoulders. the fabric slipped once, and he adjusted it, brushing her hair aside in the process.

leona swallowed hard. he lingered there for a second, looking at her face. all peaceful and soft in sleep, none of the usual stubborn determination furrowing her brow.

he didn’t know when it started, this stupid, subtle ache in his chest whenever she was near. it wasn’t a pain, not exactly. more like a weight, steady and pressing, as if something had settled in him that he couldn’t shake loose, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. he had always been able to shut out what he didn’t want to feel. yet now, with her, it was different. the more he saw her, really saw her, the deeper the ache grew. and somewhere between the moments they shared together and the times he found himself watching her over the rim of his teacup, she’d started mattering to him. he hadn’t agreed to that. he hadn’t planned it. it wasn’t like him. and still, here he was, standing over her as she slept, quietly wishing she would take better care of herself.

a muscle in his jaw twitched. he sighed, dragging a hand over his face, trying to shake the thoughts from his head.

leona pulled away slowly, going back to his spot in the sun. as he sank down into it, arms folded behind his head, he let the warmth soak into his skin. he shut his eyes, hoping sleep would come quick and wipe the weight of this softness away.

but it didn’t. it stayed there, low and steady, warm and frustrating. he told himself it didn’t matter. but part of him, the part that kept looking her way, quietly checking on her, knew better.

he could try to run from it, try to push it down, but the way his chest ached when he looked at her said it was already too late.

[mortish-writes]

Hello! I hope you’re well. I discovered your work only a few days ago but I have been playing nonstop with different choices each time to see the different play throughs I can get, so far I’ve really enjoyed it! Your writing is phenomenal, I’ve been looking for something dark, sexy, romantic, and smutty involving vampires and this is absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to buy it when it’s complete! <3 if I may ask, what inspired you to begin writing Bride of Shadows? Did you take inspiration from any other works when beginning this story?

Thanks! So I initially started drafting Bride of Shadows during the pandemic when my job closed and I was suddenly at home at lot. I binge read The Vampire Chronicles at that time so I'm sure that had an effect, but in general I've always loved vampire fiction from the Anita Blake saga to the Sookie Stackhouse series. Probably a series that made me see how vampires could be written differently was the Carpathian series by Christine Feehan. I loved the whole life-mates and being able to reproduce aspect. I'm a big fan of fated mates and pregnancy/family building in romance and those tropes don't generally intersect with vampires.

For fantasy, my favorite author is probably Brandon Sanderson. I rarely read non-romance, but his books are so captivating. I love the twists and turns, the setups and the payoffs, and I find his writing very inspiring. Anyone who hasn't read his work, go read Warbreaker. It has enough romance to suck you in and then you'll be immersed by the epic plot. I can definitely see shades of Vasher in Valdricht and Lightsong in Serax.

My biggest inspiration I haven't written about yet because I don't want to throw shade on other authors, so I won't name it specifically but right before I started drafting Bride of Shadows I read a contemporary fantasy book series with a compelling love triangle, good smut, and a pregnancy subplot that was so promising and then dropped the ball in such a profoundly terrible way in the final two books that it was the first time I ever finished a story and said, "That's it?" I would have been happier if the author had just abandoned the story it was such a God-awful ending. She ruined both the ROs and the MC became intolerable. I think maybe it was one of those cases where the author had one RO she liked better even though the fan-favorite was another so instead of appealing to a plurality of readers or following her heart she just broke everything and lit it on fire then went off to work on her more popular book series. Basically I was so mad about that series it made me want to write a better one and, all ego aside, it won't be difficult.

I mean it must have been good if I'm still mad about the ending half a decade later. Either that or I get too emotionally attached to books with hot fae.

[martialartslover7]

Rant: Naruto was lied to, ALL HIS LIFE, yet no one seems to care.

Honestly, I need to know... ...did Kakashi, or anyone else that was even remotely familiar with Minato and his family, ever tell Naruto, who his parents really were? Or even so much as HINTING at who his parents were, without even directly stating their names, or their origins? And I don't mean the audience getting the hints, I mean, Naruto himself, in person.

Because, so far, going off of pure memory here, having seen a bit of the manga as well, I just couldn't recall ever seeing one singular moment where either Iruka, Kakashi, Tsunade, or even Jiraiya ever let word slip of who Naruto's parents were, and I don't mean just saying "4th Hokage", because that piece of information feels like gaslighting in the grand scheme of things, and for another, Naruto is an idiot. He is one of those people who can't tell the difference between poop and apple sauce. You HAVE to spell it out to him. Not like it matters now, because he already got the chance to meet both Minato and Kushina, while being in his subconscious with Kurama. But what irks me about all this, hear me out:

First of all, let me get you up to speed. As Kushina and Minato meet their maker, in their early 20s, knocking at god's gates and going "yo, wuzzup", remember this entire shot here. Where Hiruzen promises, to Kushina's face, as she is slowly passing on, that he will be taking "full responsibility of their baby...

...and did he ever keep that promise?

At this point, if you even paid attention to the story, no, you are not expecting me to say Yes, are you? Because he freaking didn't. Let's stop lying to ourselves, and if you are defending him, then you are actively making excuses for the abuser, just like how Naruto would do it, because he is "too pure of heart" to hate anyone.

Because, frankly, this is possibly, the absolute worst thing you can do to an orphan, who had parents, who were both war heroes, and who we, as the audience, witnessed them throwing their lives away to save his life. Lying to them is one thing, but the problem is:

Naruto never got any straight answers. NO ONE even gave him any concise hints as to who Minato or Kushina were.

So when I see panels like this, I instantly get pissed off, because, what Naruto is doing here, is no different from how Stockholm Syndrome works, I am not a psychologist, but given how the series never touched upon how, at the end of the day, Naruto is still just a normal guy, not a legend, not a Hokage, not "Ninja Jesus who gave the murderer of his parents a thumbs up, calling him cool", leaving all the memes aside, this is just freaking messed up. It's not "mature" to repress all your resentment towards an individual, who fucking LIED to you, all your life. Much less when all your life, all these lies have caused you to suffer, day in, day out. No sane individual would NOT break after all this, Naruto is still human at the end of the day, and NO ONE should lose respect for him, should he snap, after all. Because this right here, this is not being mature, that's being a potential danger to yourself. Why else do you think, Sakura was confirmed to have opened up mental clinics for both children, and orphans?

GEE, I WONDER WHY.

And before anyone gets smart on me, "this is the point of Naruto's character, he is too pure of heart to hate, we are supposed to follow along on his journey, as he wrestles these demons", come on, stop bullshitting yourself. This is not why people love Naruto at heart. We all loved him, because, even with all these hidden strengths given to him by his parents, these strengths had always been a sore spot, as it had given him nothing but problems. But the satisfaction came from him confronting those problems, and capitalizing on them. The point of him "being too pure" is nonsense, birthed from Kishimoto's nonsensical writing decisions, let us all leave the bullshit on the floor. Because, if you reduce Naruto to all this, that he would "never be villain material", that he is "loyal to the village", yeah, just shut up, man. It's one thing idolizing him, but being straight up delulu like this, there is a reason, why so many fans find the idea of Naruto himself going rogue so appealing and interesting, because, now that we know, through Itachi Shinden, that it had been Danzo to leak the information about Naruto's status as a jinchuriki, which, according to the novel, went along the lines of (not directly, but summarized in a nutshell):

"Hoping to unite the village in times of crisis, needing a scapegoat for all their issues."

I mean, sure, you can mature and seasoned about this, and not allow this hatred to affect you, however, people really seem to underestimate how soul-crushing that can be to learn that, all your life, you have been fed nothing but lies, and if not, then at the very least, being left to rot in a deafening silence, that never went away, even with age.

Ha.

Hahaha.

You know who this reminds me of? Ah yes.

Plus, in the grand scheme of things, the way it's constructed and written, comes off like, the Senju / Uzumaki will always be the good guys, no matter what, and the Uchiha are doomed to be evil and self-destructive, especially when you consider, near the end of Shippuden, once the Sage of the Six Paths dropped by, and claimed that Naruto and Sasuke are reincarnations of his off-spring...

...which not only ruins the story for me, as it robs each and every single character of their individual agency, with this fate angle pretty much ruining any ounce of credibility the story ever had, it also cheapens all of Naruto's and Sasuke's experiences, which now, bearing all this in mind, can be visually boiled down to: Senju/Uzumaki? Good. Uchiha? Bad. It's just so LAME. Because by that point, we are no longer talking about individuals who came this far of their own volition, no, it was always DESTINED to happen. So, no, anyone excusing this, you should be ashamed of yourself, you do not DESERVE to call yourself a fan to me. You came for the humans behind the "legends", but you only stayed for the legends, not the people behind them.

And back to the topic at hand:

With Jiraiya, it makes even less sense to me, because... Again. Everyone in the story keeps saying "The 4th Hokage". For us. The audience. This is clear. The hint is visible that, this guy might possibly be Naruto's father / relative / uncle, whatever. That much is clear.

But Naruto is the one who is repeatedly being kept in the dark on this. Jiraiya and Kakashi know. They KNOW. Who Minato and Kushina are. But Naruto doesn't. And yet, you mean to tell me that, in all these years that Naruto had spent time training with Jiraiya, never once, not even ONE time, did he think to ask him, "Oh, by the way, you keep comparing me to the 4th Hokage, why is this guy so special to you?"? Never once did he grow suspicious of him?

I mean, don't get me wrong, Minato, in spite of his debonair gentleman appearance, and the soft demeanor he bears around Kushina, has...

And I am putting this charitably...

...A FEW skeletons in the closet, considering how CONCERNINGLY HIGH his kill count is. The story kept presenting him like some form of "saint", like, he can never do wrong, and his face is "all you need to see" to verify, "This guy can't be THAT cold-blooded a monster in secret, right?", even though we all know how dirty war is, as a business, no less. So maybe Kakashi, Jiraiya, Tsunade or even Iruka would have hesitated to tell Naruto, because he might then start holding Minato to an unreasonably clean and prestine standard, that he doesn't deserve, all because he used to be the Hokage, and Minato knows it himself. If this was explicitly implied and said anywhere, I wouldn't flung two shits at it, but because of how blurry and murky this entire plot point is presented, I am honestly concerned a little about the overarching, narrative cohesion of it.

And all memes aside, I legit have to ask the question, this is something that really needs answering...

...WHERE DID ALL THE INHERITENCE MONEY GO TO?

Seriously, you honestly mean to tell me, Minato and Kushina were pinching pennies in their lifetime? Even when Minato was assigned to be Hokage? And hell, Kushina was a Jonin before her death, meaning her salary also couldn't have been THAT low. Like, what the hell happened? Where is all the money that Naruto needed, when he was a kid? Like, if you are going to keep secrets from a little kid, because you fear for the future, that's one thing, but if he was already going to be a risk factor either way, you could have tampered with the misery, by at least giving him some stronger financial support, instead of always giving him the bare minimum.

It's honestly a miracle to me that Naruto, the moment he became an orphan, has even made it past the age of 3, when we know practically NOTHING over who took on the job of raising him, or even giving him the breast, because Hiruzen wasn't doing shit to help here. And again, if Pt. 1's story still counts, it means, EVERYONE evaded him. He bore the Nine Tailed Fox, yet the villagers were doing the equivalent to repeatedly trampling with their feet over a nuclear warhead, knowingly waiting for it to go off at any minute.

WHO WAS TAKING CARE OF THIS KID?!?!?!

Naruto couldn't change diapers on his own, or sustain himself, or even so much as clean himself, he was a freaking BABY. How did he even survive all this neglect? Children. Need. Doting attention. They NEED it. It's medically IMPERATIVE. To have a motherly presence. Taking care of them, and holding them. Yet, we never got a clear answer on who was raising him, when he was still a diaper-crapper.

Headcanon time: I personally think, the people who have raised Naruto, when he was still a baby, were three people. For a while, it was Kakashi and Anko (both were still teenagers around that time, making this incredibly sad, too), mostly due to how Kakashi, out of sheer guilt and grief for his sensei, decides to raise his son, as a way to make up for his "failure", and Anko gladly helps him out, because she wants to prove to Hiruzen that she is nothing like Orochimaru, because like Naruto, she also blindly trusted and loved the old man, just for giving her a proper place to stay. Again, Kakashi and Anko shippers, go to town on this one. And the third person: Sasuke's mom, Mikoto.

We saw how close Kushina and Mikoto were, when both were still alive, so imagine how much it must have broken Mikoto's heart to see her best friend's baby boy, all alone, with no motherly presence to keep him warm and secure. So, against Hiruzen's or Danzo's orders, not even caring what the village thinks of her anymore, because the Uchiha clan's reputation was already lying in the garbage dumpster by then, she treated Naruto, as though she had adopted him into the family. Your hearts melting yet?

In conclusion, to give you the TL;DR version:

But honestly, even with all this, in the end, Hiruzen remains just that: Human. And I cannot demonize him too hard, because at the end of the day, Danzo was being a way bigger piece of garbage than he could ever hope to me, and when you are old as him, at a certain point, the world just keeps moving on without you, you are no longer part of the times you live in. Hiruzen should be harshly judged for never taking enough action, but picking him as the villain also doesn't feel right, since, most of the shit that happened, mostly took place, because of his elderly naivité. He is a product of the era he was born into...

...but believe me, I still crave for Naruto, Anko or Kushina to approach Hiruzen, may it be in the world of the living, or the afterlife, exactly like this, to pour their hearts out to him to remind him:

"You threw me away like trash. Right when I needed you most! You have no idea, what those years were like! I TRUSTED NO ONE! LEAST OF ALL MYSELF! ...All because of YOU!"

Based on this scene from the final season of Cobra Kai. The words all match the characters to a tee, man. Every. Single. Word. Naruto really needs this level of emotional closure, let us stop bullshitting ourselves, he is repressing so much internalized frustration with this old man, and he needs this, more than either of us realizes.

Enough ranting, because this topic genuinely makes me sad. The poor lad is a master at wearing masks to keep everyone from worrying about him, the same way he did to Sakura about his goal to bring Sasuke back, man... Some things will never change. Especially when you spend all your life serving a village, that forces you to live in a cage, and not even having the courtesy to tell you the truth when it counts.

PEACE.

[silverwarewolf]

Madoka... yeah, I see exactly what you mean

I fully agree with Yukari being so unreliable in order to keep Reimu essentially at her service (as we've seen repeatedly) works very well with this! And, yeah, I always thought that Yukari not only having little to no reaction to Sumireko in AoCF, but not appearing in ULiL at all despite it being all about Sumireko was pretty interesting.

I mean, in AoCF story mode, she is far less interested in Sumireko than she is in the perfect possession incident and its connection to the Dream World as a whole. In versus mode, all she says to Sumireko is "Welcome to Gensokyo, I hope you enjoy it." What's up with that?

And well, Sumireko so far has had important interaction with the other sages (ULiL and CoLA for Kasen, VD for Okina). Ran does say that Yukari has a certain interest on Sumireko but we hardly ever see it.

That aside, Renko. Yes, as much as I love the angst interpretations of tragedy striking the Hifuu duo, I find this headcanon refreshing and interesting precisely because it's so unusual for me to find any interpretations that don't end in tragedy lol.

I like the idea of physics and Renko's ability being so close to Reimu's own abilities! It reminds me of a description in Grimoire of Marisa, I believe, where we're told how Reimu's duplex barrier works. It really feels like something that could be connected to a physics interpretation like we see in the Hifuu CDs when Renko gets a little spotlight to talk about her major.

Another parallel that I could see, although a little stretched, is the sort of pairs that we see that happen to be western and eastern, and dark-haired and blonde. We have this contrast with Reimu and Marisa, with Renko and Merry (who just so happen to have names with the same initials), and you could probably also count the shrine maiden and the youkai girl from Dolls in Pseudo Paradise!

I'll keep thinking about this headcanon, I find it so interesting! Thanks for explaining. Hm, it does make me think about how, through Reimu, Yukari enforces that balance of humans not becoming youkai. It could be just for the balance of Gensokyo, yes, but there's many more opportunities. From an "I'm the only one who gets to become a youkai" angle to a "please, don't let anyone go through what I did." Fun!

I would love to hear more about the idea that renko becomes the Hakurei god!! Its the first time I've heard a headcanon even remotely close to that idea and I'm just so fascinated by it?? So many implications

I remember hearing that headcanon be passed around in the fandom a few times before and I adopted it mainly because of narrative reasons. I thought it would be interesting to see how Renko and Merry ended up, and the idea of them ending up in two very different places during Gensokyo's creation, one becoming a god and the other becoming a Youkai, just felt right to me (pretty sure this is the Madoka Magica fan in me talking, if you know you know).

I also think that it's pretty easy to work into the canon, as even though Yukari hasn't stated to know the Hakurei god in canon, Yukari is a well known unreliable narrator. She could easily be saying this in order to keep Reimu in the dark just enough so she still complies with everything she says. There's also the fact that when interacting with Sumireko (who is literally a canon ancestor to Renko due to a shared last name) she doesn't really express any kind of emotional anguish or regret, which leads me to believe that Renko probably didn't die before Merry became Yukari (though the angst angle that provides is fun to think about since I'm a sucker for angst lol).

Another fun thing about this is that Renko is a physics major, and Reimu's key ability being to float away from reality, and the idea of Renko's hypothetical descendants (i.e. Reimu probably since I also believe that there could be a bloodline thing related to the Hakurei god) having the ability to break the laws of physics seems oddly fitting to me.

Also, if you kinda stretch it, you can kinda connect Reimu's intuition to Renko's ability to instantly tell where she is based on the stars and moon. In terms of internal worldbuilding in Touhou, I think it would kinda fit for Renko to become a god to the humans pre-Gensokyo by almost becoming a god of directions and travel, which could also help in the creation of Gensokyo, as deciding where it should be would also aid in its creation (again, this is kind of a stretch but just a random idea I had).

Please tell me any ideas you have had for this headcanon as well because I also think the idea is really interesting!

[suna1suna1]

Gummigoo was cool :(

[valeriefauxnom]

Leif's age is, well, weird, because canon still seems to want to frame it as though he were in a senior enough position that he was expected to teach Leonidas even if that's not how it worked out...

Then again, Leif also frames their meeting as when he was young and in school, so who knows. Maybe he has a few years to where he was expected to be a 'mentor'??

But yeah, I dunno. Either way I'm not sure Leonidas would be all that happy! Somehow I think people would get a rare glimpse of his more protective side the second one of his siblings was dating/involved, between his general mistrust and suspicion of foul motives (and in Chelle's case, maybe stealing Leif for herself.)

After all, all the eldest three will use 'dear' as a little tidbit to add occasionally, both sincerely and insincerely. Chelle will 'dear x' to many whether they are family or dear at all, Phares will do so to Euden with surprising frequency in a trend I did not notice before but I'm not really seeing much else from him immediately (except once in vague reference to Nedrick, 'our dear "younger brother" and one to Chelle), but Leonidas is overall pretty rare with his 'dears', and does so once to Euden, once to Chelle... and twice to Leif.

Jokes aside, I'm starting to think the 'dear' thing must have been drilled into their head as habit, for how many will pull it out. Even Emile will use 'dear': 'my dear sister', 'I am come, my dear flunkies'... even when Emile doesn't exactly hold many dear to him in any capacity. It's still funny to analyze who they use it to at what frequency, though Chelle is the obvious shoo-in were this a competition, with her rampant use of it!

Also, in the course of this meandering path that ended with me analyzing the family's 'dear' habit, I will say, I wonder what the heck was going on in Aurelius' reign if there were upsets enough to give Leif and co war stories:

Ahem, in any case...

Leonidas: I smiled genuinely once, as a baby. I didn't like it. Now I can only do self-pleased smirks.

I find the pointy ears idea funny especially if there's not so so egregious that Euden still has room to not immediately notice that his are different than everyone else's and then wondering how impossibly quickly he gets recognized all the time. Like sure, he understands there's probably descriptions of him going around as a blond young dude with green eyes and all that, but how is even the most common peasant able to ID him so fast?!?!

...His friends point out the slight points on his ears, the ones he just thought were normal.

Regarding the draft Eudens, I think I've joked that the hula-belt one is actually Aurelius' that he either took or was granted, because Euden (and other members occasionally do, too, see their obsession with belts that have the extra protrusion on one side) as it is already take cues from Aurelius and Alberius' outfits, why not go the extra mile and just steal your dad's belt???? Someone needs to teach him in general about finding fitting clothing, because as everyone joked the second they saw it, Summer!Euden's trunks are on life support with his belt.

Oh, and to add to the draft family with the Zethia there, there's also what seems like it might have been an early mock-up with fox!Luca and, impossibly indistinct, another earlier design for Euden, in that same source (illustrator interview at ~6 month anni).

Between the Apostles and the Soulpacts in Hinomoto, I just find it funny how much it forms a 'look what they need to mimic a fraction of our power' for the fam. Like people in Hinomoto are greatly shortening their lifespans by offering up their soul to get a dragon that takes over their body in shapeshift, the angels have made themselves dependent on Sigil-ing and so it's not a true true 'trial' to 'earn' for an Apostle, since it's a given that they need to Sigil, the question is just to whom... and then the Alberian fam, while pacting and shapeshifting isn't easy (far from it), doesn't need to give up their literal lifespans to do so or die if the dragon does.

Maybe you could frame the Uranus thing as him having to work really really hard to keep Phares going, between the Progenitor and his own lingering pact causing issues? There's also the aspect you could spin on Phares' side of him not being willing to accept Uranus is gone from what he did under Xenos' influence/control for extra angst, and maybe is using it as a self-punishment like his attitude of repentance in his story! A means to maybe cheat the Progenitor of being able to use him anymore, if this is what it brings (unknowing that the Progenitor seems to be able to use corpses regardless, see him speaking through Euden in 25 speaking post-mortem).

No matter how you spin that little add-on idea into canon, it's prime angst material!

More Dragalia Minor Mistakes (Or, when Dragalia's writers and/or translators failed a lore check)...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Dragalia was surprisingly astute to the general mass of lore it had. That being said, it's only natural that a few mistakes or lore contradictions would slip through the cracks over years of development, perhaps staff coming and going, yadda yadda. Consider this just the second of small logs of whatever I've noticed, throughout my meanderings through the wiki and more!

First up, we're starting today's category with 'technology', namely, the humble abacus. Dragalia's mishmash of technology is understandable, since they've been artificially kept in a state of technological limbo until canon time. And of their technology, we know that the abacus is something that's been lost to most of the world, it seems.

It's Xiao Lei's whole thing, for the rest of the cast to be amazed at how fast she's able to do math with, how cool that is, etc etc. It's this special Taiwuan thing that might save the scientists in Alberia a lot of work!

One problem: this random NPC, very Alberian, shopkeep also is randomly using one, to no amazement by the cast.

Whoops.

More relevant to the main story, though, Phares once incurs a small case of brainfog and mistakes the name of his own terminal illness:

This one I think I can reasonably provide a rationale for this being a translator's error, perhaps one who hadn't dealt with Phares or at least dealt with him for a while. Why? Wyrmscale is more literally in Japanese 'dragon scale - itis', (or, 竜鱗病, ryu urin byou, ryu=dragon, urin=scale, byo = character for 'sickness'), so a translator might have read that and just translated it literally instead of checking whatever lore docs they might have had that they'd already called it 'wyrmscale' in English!

Also related to the lore, this next one's more of a case of later lore contradicting the earlier one, and boy is it petty quibbling on my end.

In short, take a look at this dialogue from Elysium:

See anything wrong? No?

Well, my problem is the use of the word 'young' here! It is the singular word that goes against lore here, as I can't exactly argue against his opinion claim of 'immature!'

We've no less than three other canon sources at least that instead frame humans as a species as among the first in the universe, right along with dragons!

So, yes, Elysium, you're not wrong to call humans 'immature', but to call their species 'young'???? You know better than that! (no he didn't, since this dialogue came before any of the other contradictions here, I believe, but it's still technically an error!)

If we're on a dragon kick, pop quiz: who was Alberius' first pactbound dragon?

Some of you might be yelling 'MIDGARDSORMR' as others yell 'CHTHONIUS', and then you both might hypothetically look at each other and feel confused. Well, you may be glad to know that this was a genuine lore contradiction instead of one of you being 'wrong'.

It's understandable why people thought both options, even aside from the lore confusion. Midgardsormr as the first to really start hanging out with him, or Chthonius as the dragon he was tied body and soul to in the end, who literally merged with him?

Overall, I'm more of the 'Chthonius' side for what they ultimately intended, as we also see other descriptions painstakingly spell out that Mids was the 'first dragon to personally meet Alberius' instead of just saying 'pact with Alberius', and one slipped through the cracks, but still! These minor lore slip ups are what I'm cataloguing here. Honestly, between this, the non-pact slip-up with Brunhilda in the previous post I made, and other things like Alberius slapping Jupiter, he sure had a lot of pacting 'fun' and drama, huh?

Now I'll return to the royal fam lore drama. A long long time ago, I made a post explaining how the family says their names, as is said by their siblings. Some (Phares, cough cough) shooketh me greatly, as the aforementioned example's name might more phonetically be rendered 'Farez' to me instead of the 'Fairays' I was running with more since in my brain I was connecting it to words like "pharaoh" instead.

But I realized I overlooked their father's name. From what I'm seeing, only Audric says his own real name, as everyone else wants to call him His Majesty, Father, or the King.

And here's the doozy: his dementia aura he gives everyone has also been affecting he himself, because he says HIS OWN NAME two different ways!

Here's the relevant soundbites to demonstrate what I mean:

Here, we see one 'Or - Ray - Li - Us' and one 'Or - Rel - ii - Us'

I thiiink we see 'Ray' version twice vs the one time of 'Rel', but this more seems to be a division between his base form and Gala form.

I did a bit more digging, and we've also Gala Gatov... but his pronunciation is so foggy that it's remarkably hard to tell if he's saying 'Ray' 'Rel' or 'Ril', though I overall lean towards 'Rel' on a slowdown!

So... yeah. I guess it's ultimately up to you guys how you wanna say his name, because they sent mixed signals in English!

(As a bonus I'll just throw this other soundbite out here for any of you guys curious about how to say Vio Rhyse Alberia, since it's become a minor battle cry for the fandom in their grief)

Huh... you know, that might actually be a great place to meld into my final example!

'Vio Rhyse Alberia' is suggested once to mean 'Glory to Alberia'. Presumably, it's not just their modern language nor another real one, since we don't really see them bust out other similar phrases. Heck, even Audric's pronunciation here is a slight warp from the standard 'Al-beer-ia' with whatever little roll he's doing with the 'r' in there.

Specifically, it's likely 'Ancient Alberian', a language that Elisanne ID's as existing in ch.13, and one Phares is also likely able to read for him to be able to get the stuff it's written on up and working (+the fact he's specifically talented in 'ancient languages' plural).

This is... well, a big 'Hum' moment, in that while I cannot think of a way in which it makes sense, it's not as cut-and-dry as the others for 'this says x, this says y'.

If we're talking early Ilian church, specifically, this dates this machine to about 1k years ago, during the golden age of humanity and Ilia. It makes sense, since alchemy was also in its heyday then.

The thing is that Alberia just flat-out didn't exist until 300 years ago, until Alberius created it. With how similar 'Alberius' and 'Alberia' are in name, one might have presumed he named it after himself. But let's excuse that little bit, and just say it's a root that stems from earlier language in the same way humans are often named after objects even to this day.

It's still a bit confusing - this puts Ilia in a weird place to where she's fully comprehend-able to our modern crew and vice-versa despite seemingly speaking this different language. Ilia even seems to share a similar slang culture, with her joining the crew in occasionally butchering French on purpose (toot sweet in place of tout de suite). I might be tempted to excuse it like how English has developed, from a point where its written variety has greatly developed even when most of the words they were saying/writing are understandable, but this again is troubled by the existence of 'Vio Rhyse Alberia', a phrase that is clearly not a 'normal part' of their language.

This is giving me weird ideas where Ilia is speaking in this really ancient dialect that's just barely understandable to the modern day crew, kinda like how we can kinda piece out even some Old English or Latin with vocabulary even when it's written entirely differently. Take the good old people doing Old English covers of songs, where we see 'Irish-made' in a Pumped Up Kicks translation turned to 'Írisc-worht', which to me I can piece together 'Irish' from the first word and get reminded of 'wrought' from the second, which is a word that means, well, made from.

I digress. The best way I can really excuse the name is honestly a bit funny: that historians and all those scholars retroactively decided to call this language they (re)discovered 'Ancient Alberian' just because the land that they discovered it on or something is now Alberia, long enough before that the Church was able to pick it up again and start teaching kids it.

Alternatively, that there was a historical Alberia that Alberius stole the name from, that Euden would then go on to steal from Alberius when naming his own kingdom. "That's Alberia, this is Alberia, are there any more Alberias I should know about? Meow (says Leonidas' 'Alberia' reformed under his sovereignty)"

Sigh. Make of it what you will. But there's something funky going on in the linguistical history of Alberia here. The way I've personally decided to sweep it under the rug is treating them as spoken similarly enough for Alberius-Ilia-Euden to all mutually comprehend (Alberius additionally trapped in a cave and serving as a perfect time capsule of his language at the time), but the written form has warped far too much for any of them to understand each other. Still doesn't explain Vio Rhyse but hey, blame other lost language's influence or something and boom.

That's enough rambling on my end, however. If you've any other plot holes or lore failure checks, though, please let me know!

[playing-pauls-mel0dy]

y'know. at least a couple of times now, i've seen the theory that, potentially, Rainer was another victim of Marvin's (whether that be of rebirthing or just abuse in general). and my brain has decided to latch onto it for some reason.

so uh. There's That.

[antennatoheaven]

has anyone considered/worked out a murderbot x 17776 crossover