#because all these problems sprang up suddenly under him

[awkward-teabag]

Can't even mention that a store near me is clearly using abusing the TFW program because they refuse to pay little more than minimum wage in a high cost of living area (also you won't get benefits and you'll only be part-time) because the fascists and right-wingers will jump in to say it's about immigration and white replacement.

No, it's because rich white people want to hoard even more money and found an intentional loophole to both make more money (via paying employees less) and also have more power over employees, employees who may or may not know Canadian employment laws (or safety laws) and even if they do, don't have the ability or support to try to hold the company accountable.

You can absolutely criticize the federal government for keeping the loophole open but it predates Trudeau by decades and it was Harper who both expanded the program and added a way for companies to fast-track TFWs. It was also under Harper that companies started firing Canadians (or not hiring them) and then requesting permission to mass-hire TFWs instead.

But the way the right wing talks, you would think Trudeau started this whole thing and the poor multi-million and multi-billion dollar companies are being taken advantage of. Also that housing prices, lack of new developments, and zoning issues started with Trudeau and are the fault of mass-immigration he has a boner for instead of being an issue for decades and experts warning this would happen if governments didn't act ASAP.

Instead the neolibs and cons kept cutting back and kicking that can down the road, a can that started being kicked by Mulroney and the Conservative Party.

[cainluvr69]

Surely, We Can Make Miracles Chapter 15

Previous Chapter

Figaro: <Possideo>

Magic focus in hand, Figaro began casting healing magic on Snow, still locked in the frame. Pale light embraced him, and the dark poison's corrosion of his body began to slow down, even if only a little.

Figaro: Oz, take it down!

But Oz had already drawn his staff from the aether, holding it aloft, rising through the air until he was even with the top of Hwylryn's head. I looked down at Hwylryn's face, riddled with injuries. His silver eyes quietly observed not Oz but me, the person next to him.

Akira: (…I hate this.) (…I don't want to hurt Hwylryn!)

Oz: <Vox…>

I impulsively shook Oz's hand off of my own and pulled it away from him. Oz's eyes widened. That was when we started falling.

Akira: (…!)

Oz pressed my head into the safety of his chest, trying to protect me. We crashed into the water with a huge splash.

✦✧☾✧✦

I was trembling. It was because I was underwater again. It was because I'd shaken off Oz's hand. It was because White was gone now. It was because Hwylryn was covered in wounds. Feelings of guilt and rejection swirled in my heart, an endlessly discordant mess that made me feel like I was going to pop. I saw something's shadow coming closer to me and I gasped in fear.

Akira: …! …!

I tried to inhale water and immediately choked on it. I couldn't breathe. Something in my head was getting hot. The something that had come close grabbed my hand. Should I cling to it? Should I try to shove it off? Fear and hope seethed against one another inside my skull. But it was Oz. Of course it was Oz's hand. All the chaos in my mind settled down, and he pulled on my arm, leading me to the surface.

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: Hah… Haahh… Cough…cough cough…!

Oz: Hah…hah… Are you unharmed, Sage?

Akira: Yes… Sorry about that…

Oz: Give me your hand. Grant me your power. I will once again…

Akira: N…no…!

As Oz reached for my hand again, I reflexively pushed him away. Even though I've said that I owe him my life.

Oz: …

Oz's eyes widened slightly, startled. But even at a time like this, I saw no anger in his eyes. He spoke to me with all the patience of a long-suffering parent.

Oz: …Why?

Akira: Hwy… Hwylryn is… That dragon is…

I froze, my mouth still open, suddenly anxious about whether or not this was something I should talk about.

Akira: That dragon is my friend. I don't want to hurt him…

As soon as I put that into words, I finally started crying. An innocent, carefree dragon whom I'd only just met. My beloved Snow and White, who were always so kind to me. Oz, who had saved me countless times. But here I was, feeling like I was betraying all of them. I didn't know what to do, and so I cried. I felt like I was being selfish, like I was trying to shove all of my problems onto the person who'd made me cry, just like a child would. But Oz didn't scold me. I looked up, bewildered, as rain rolled down my cheeks. It was cleansing me, maybe.

Oz: I see…

Figaro: Master Sage! Oz! Where are you?! I can't feel the dragon's malice… …!

Lennox: <Mare Praeda>

Suddenly, an icy blizzard sprang into existence, its winds aiming solely for Figaro.

Figaro: <Possideo>

He threw up a barrier on reflex, deflecting the attack. But inside Figaro's barrier, inside his frame, Snow's skin was slowly being painted the color of the poison coursing through his veins. His limbs were limp and weak. Figaro held a hand over the painting again, and a pale light once more wrapped itself around Snow's body. But that weakened the barrier, and it cracked open.

Figaro: …kh… You…you're…

Figaro looked for his opponent, and then his voice rose in shock.

Figaro: Leno…?!

Standing as a tyrant would over his domain, the Southern wizard Lennox presided over the storming sea and sky. I saw pure, unadulterated loathing smoldering in the eyes of this kind, taciturn wizard, whose presence was better suited for a grassy field under a bright blue sky.

Akira: Lennox…!

He didn't even glance at me. His eyes were on Oz as he rocked back and forth in the waves, his grin a hateful sneer.

Lennox: Oz! Who could have imagined we'd meet again in a place like this!

Oz: …Balthazar…

Figaro: Bastard… What have you done to Lennox…?!

Lennox?: Ahaha! So you know the owner of this body. All the more reason to stifle his soul and use him as my arms and legs!

Figaro: Wh…

Lennox?: You stole my land from me, after all!

Akira: …Stole your land…?

Oz: …

Figaro: …

Both Oz and Figaro stayed silent. But this was a story that I'd heard before. Once upon a time, they'd sought to conquer the world.

Akira: (Could the wizard manipulating Lennox be someone they angered back then…?)

While I was still reeling from the shock of Lennox attacking us, I saw another spectacle that made my eyes grow wide. Hwylryn had quietly coiled around Lennox--around the wizard puppeting Lennox's body, the one named Balthazar.

Akira: (Huh…?)

Hwylryn: Balthazar. Did you find your foe?

Lennox?: Yes.

Hwylryn: I found Gwawlyn's, too.

Lennox?: I know. You've taken down Snow of the North.

Hwylryn's silver eyes narrowed happily. He was…smiling.

Lennox?: If he's been struck with your poison, he won't last until dawn. Oz, Figaro. Though you came to steal my land here three times now…

Figaro: You've got that wrong, Balthazar.

Lennox?: I won't let things go how you expect. If you try to steal from me again, I'll sink Borda Island the same way Adams Island sank. <Mare Praeda>!

I heard a strange rumbling from below us. What had he done? While I was glancing around anxiously, I saw some dark silhouettes racing through the night sky. It was Arthur, Cain, Murr, Rustica, and Chloe.

Arthur: Master Sage! Lord Oz!

Oz: Arthur…

Arthur: I'm here to help! <Pernoctant Nixzo>!

Arthur's magic lifted Oz and I to his broom. Cain took Oz in the middle.

Arthur: Are you unhurt? Has something happened to Lords Snow and White in their painting?

Cain: Oz, are you okay?! Lennox and that dragon are…

Chloe: It…it's a dragon… I've never seen one before… Wh-where's Shy…

Rustica: You there! I don't believe you're actually Lennox, but you do know where Shylock is, yes? Could you kindly turn him back over to us?

Lennox?: Shylock will never return.

Chloe: Why not?!

Lennox?: Because he has become my servant.

Murr: Did he really? 'Cause that sounds even more difficult than getting the whole world to sit in your palm!

Lennox?: How dare you…

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>!

Lennox?: Hwylryn!

Hwylryn: You need to run, Akira.

Akira: Huh?

Hwylryn faced Arthur and I and then exhaled a long breath. We immediately got sent flying, his breath sending us tumbling far, far away from their battlefield.

Akira: Wah… Waahh…!

Arthur: …gh…! Master Sage!

I thought I was going to fall off his broom again, so I grabbed one of Arthur's arms and held on tight. It had taken such little time for us to end up so far from where we'd been. And when I thought that, of course, a fierce bolt of lightning illuminated the clouds, and the ocean waves raged violently.

Chloe: Waaahhh…!

Rustica: Chloe!

Cain: …Damn, that's some power he's got! Is this whole storm because of that one dragon…?!

Oz: …It rivals my own.

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>! …Wahh…!!

Figaro: Cain, stop Murr! His death would be a loss for the entire world!

Cain: On it!

Murr: ……! <Eanu…>

Cain: Murr! Watch out…! <Gladius Procella>!

Murr: …! Cain!

Cain: Glad to see you're still in one piece!

Murr: …Shylock…

✦✧☾✧✦

Lennox?: Hmph… That's enough. Withdraw, Hwylryn.

Hwylryn: You sure? You aren't gonna eat your enemies yet?

Lennox?: I will only kill Oz and Figaro after I have returned to my original form.

Hwylryn: …

Lennox?: Though they'll be no match for me within my underwater city.

Hwylryn: Gotcha.

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …They vanished into the ocean…

Rustica: Shylock must also be somewhere below us…

Murr: …

Cain: Why is Lennox doing this…? Figaro?! Are the twins okay?!

Figaro: … …I don't know… …This is an incredibly strong poison. Healing magic can halt its progress, but it just keeps eating through him… If we can't find a way to help him, then…

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: …Are you okay, Master Sage?!

Akira: …urgh…yes… …

I stared at the spot where Hwylryn had disappeared into the water, complicated feelings twisting around in my chest. I just…hadn't realized anything back then. That wizard, the one named Balthazar, had captured Shylock… Hwylryn had poisoned Snow… And White had disappeared… Oz couldn't use magic at night… Figaro had his hands full with Snow's treatment… Faust was badly shaken by Lennox getting possessed… All of the Sage's wizards we called "teachers" were… Dealing with very, very different things than our usual day-to-day life.

✦✧☾✧✦

Lennox: … I wonder where this is… … Courir… Haha… What's wrong? What are you doing over there… I feel like we've been apart for a while, but… I've wanted to see you again. …Where is this… I feel like I was looking for someone… Who was it…? … What's wrong, Courir? Should I keep looking for them… Or should I stay here… I have a feeling there's something I don't want to face in the distance. … But…I want to see them. I don't know what I want to do once I see them again, but… Let's go, Courir. We don't have to rush. Let's take it step by step…

✦✧☾✧✦

With the twins' frame securely in our hands, we returned to Borda Island. The only thing in the frame was Snow and his suffering. Figaro was using his magic on the painting within the frame, not pausing even for a moment. Next to him, Arthur was desperately calling Snow's name.

Arthur: Lord Snow! Lord Snow!

Figaro: I don't think he can hear you right now… If I let up on the healing even for a second, death is going to claim him in the blink of an eye… I can't believe a dragon's poison is so potent…

Arthur: What led to Lord Snow fighting a sea dragon?

I faltered for a moment under Arthur's gaze, but I still told the truth of the matter.

Akira: …Because Snow and White killed that sea dragon's… Because they killed Hwylryn's twin brother. That's what he said…

Arthur: A pair of dragon siblings that Lords Snow and White sought to kill…

Figaro: They were incredibly powerful in their prime. Hearing that they killed a dragon isn't odd at all.

Arthur: Lord Figaro… You aren't looking well either, Lord Figaro. You're shouldering too much right now…

Figaro: I'm fine. I'm just feeling down about my own mistakes.

Arthur: Mistakes?

Figaro: I can keep treatment going until tomorrow morning. But if we can't come up with a way to actually cure him…

Cain and Chloe were listening in on our conversation, their faces downcast.

Chloe: Is there no antidote for the poison in Lord Snow…?

Cain: If you can't heal Lord Snow, that means Lord White won't come back either, right? Lords Snow and White have done so much for me, but I still haven't been able to pay back even an ounce of what I owe them. Is there anything we can do? Like, canvassing the wizards' market for ingredients for a cure, anything.

Cain's words reminded me of what Hwylryn had told me about the cintamani stones. He used to hold two cintamani stones, one of poison, and one of medicine.

Akira: (But Hwylryn only had one of the gems on his bracelet.) (The other one is… Right!) The cintamani stone of medicine… Hwylryn told me he had the cintamani stones of poison and medicine.

Cain: Cintamani stones? What are those?

Arthur: Lords Snow and White told me about them when I was little. They're gems with strange powers that appear in dragons' dens.

Akira: I think that's it, yeah. Hwylryn has the cintamani stone of poison set in the bracelet he wears… And as for the stone of medicine, he gave it to the Western witch… Right, he gave it to a Western witch named Melissa.

Arthur: The Western witch, Melissa… Have you heard of her, Chloe?

Chloe: Melissa… Umm… Right! Murr knows her! She's the Western witch who wanted to see the ends of the ocean!

Figaro: Think he'll give us any details? Let's see, where's Murr…

Murr: Melissa never came back to Western Country. Maybe she settled down in her very own paradise she found all on her own, or maybe she's at the bottom of the sea!

Rustica: Oh my… I'm back, Chloe.

Chloe: Murr, Rustica! What's wrong, is that…part of the mechanism in a magitech installation…?

Murr: It's a weapon the Western army's Magical Technology Corps made. Looks like they improved on it a little! And noooow it's your turn! Give us the details, Figaro. Who's Balthazar?

Figaro: …

Murr: Better start talking, or Lennox is gonna turn up without his head. Riiiight, Arthur?

Figaro: Excuse me?

Arthur: …The bodies of three large, muscular men have been found without their heads along the shore. Lennox fits the victim profile. It's entirely possible that it's just a coincidence, but it's just as likely that the person manipulating Lennox's body is the murderer of those three men.

Figaro: I see…

Murr: Whatever. Just ask Oz about it. I'm gonna go rescue Lennox and Shylock now. Arthur, you coming?

Figaro: Mu…

Arthur: Of course.

Cain: I'll lend a hand, too.

Chloe: Me too! I mean, we've gotta save Shylock!

Rustica: But of course. I imagine the Eastern and Southern wizards will want to assist as well.

Chloe: Murr, do you remember anything? You were super cool and totally kicked the butt of whoever sank Adams Island, right?

Murr: Mm-mm, I can't really remember… Though I did kick butt super cool and all that…

Rustica: I wonder what variety of "cool" it was…

Murr: No matter what kind it was, I was still super cool! I dunnoooo! I'm gonna go think about it while getting ready to go!

Chloe: Okay! Take care!

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: Murr, please wait!

Murr: What's up?

Arthur: I wanted to ask you about Shylock's abduction… Does it involve parts of Lord Oz's past that I don't know about?

Murr: Pretty sure, yeah.

Arthur: …I see. Alright. Thank you.

Murr: Arthur. It's okay if there's things you don't know. You don't have to force yourself to guess about or endure or accept what anyone's done in the past.

Arthur: …

Murr: And just so you don't get it twisted, I wanna say I don't dislike the bond you and Oz share. It's fascinating, and I can feel a lot of hope and possibilities inside of it. I even think it's wonderful. I'm not going to deny anything. I don't want to hurt you, and I want to respect the things you love. That said, if you don't get a proper explanation at the end of this and wind up having to clean up someone else's mess… That makes Oz a real piece of shit.

Arthur: … Thank you for worrying about me, Murr…

Murr: You're welcome. That's the first time someone's thanked me for saying shit!

Arthur: …And while Shylock's in so much trouble, too. I know he's a very precious friend to you.

Murr: I'd say you've got it worse right now. There's someone out there who hates the very person you love and respect so much. Northern wizards might fear him, but to you, he's the person who lovingly raised you. It must be hard.

Arthur: …sniff… …I'm sorry…I'm just feeling a bit weak… Lord White has vanished…and Lord Snow is suffering so terribly…and yet… I still can't bring myself to think of the surviving twin dragon as bad, not after hearing what the Sage had to say about him… Lord Oz, Lord Figaro, Lord Snow, and Lord White… They've always been so kind to me…sniff…so why… …And now Lennox and Shylock have gotten dragged into this mess…

Murr: Don't apologize, Arthur. This isn't something you should be apologizing for. I know I'm repeating myself, but this isn't something you can take responsibility for. Understand?

Arthur: …sniff…

Murr: Poor, poor Arthur. I can't believe things have gotten to where you'll cry in front of me…

Arthur: …uu…sniff…

Murr: Wanna see some fireworks?

Arthur: …yeah…

Next Chapter

[rafesleman]

Truth Or Dare

⚠️MY WORK IS NOT TO REPOST OR COPY⚠️

jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: smut, choking, daddy kink

summary: jj finds out you’re a virgin.

a/n: if you’re uncomfortable with any of the warnings, please don’t read. the warnings are listed and you’re responsible for what you read. let me know if you have any ideas. i hope you enjoy!

————————————————————————-

being sarah’s cousin, you became great friends with the pogues. everyone except jj. you moved to outer banks a few months ago and ever since you met them, jj always seemed to have a problem with you. you just assumed that it was because you were a kook and the pogues hate kooks. today, you were out on the boat with everyone in your bikini. it was a beautiful navy blue and it looked so good on you. it was one of your favorites. you were all laughing, drinking beer, and having a great time. you looked over at jj to find him looking at you with his eyebrows clenched and with a frown on his face. he rolled his eyes at you and looked away, causing you to sigh deeply, wondering what he hated so much about you. as you got back to the chateau, you stepped out of the boat and walked towards the house. “how bout a game of truth or dare?” kie said. everyone agreed and you all went inside. getting comfortable on the couch next to sarah, she said “i’ll go first.” she looked around at everyone. “hmm.” “pope, truth or dare?” she asked. “dare.” he replied. “ooo” the others said laughing. “i dare you to have a conversation with yourself in the mirror.” he threw his head back groaning and laughing. after having a great laugh, it was pope’s turn. “jj, truth or dare?” he said. “dare.” he said cockily, making you cringe. “i dare you to do a cowboy dance.” everyone laughed and he got up. after he did the dance he sat back down, everyone still laughing. “y/n.” you heard, and turned to jj as you looked at him. “truth or dare?” he asked. “truth.” you said. “are you a virgin?” he asked smirking and your breath hitched in your throat. “jj-” kie said. everyone was agreeing with kie. you moved around and shot him a harsh look. “yes. yes i am.” you replied and he chuckled. you locked eyes with each other for what felt like minutes. you cleared your throat and looked away. after a little while longer of playing, it was getting pretty late and people were starting to yawn and go to bed. everyone was in bed. you woke up and checked the time as the clock said 2:00. you groaned and turned over to try and go back asleep as you heard the door open. you turned around fast to see jj. coming in. you suddenly felt your heart start to speed up. he was shirtless with a pair of long brown shorts on, hanging low. he had the most perfect v-line that you couldn’t help but stare at. he smirked. “jj- umm.” he stood in front of you, towering over you as you suddenly felt so weak, he was so big and strong. you felt so weak under him. “you’re really a virgin?” you shot him a look and nodded your head as you sighed. he sat down next to you. you looked at each other for a while. “can i kiss you?” he asked. your breath hitched in your throat and you nodded your head slightly. he leaned in and placed his lips on yours. “i can change that.” you sighed and smiled a bit, somewhat excited for what’s to come. you nodded your head in agreement and he started to take your shirt off. you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, only underwear and an oversized t-shirt. he took your panties between his fingers and pulled them off, leaving you naked. he leaned back and admired you. he wondered how one could be so naturally gorgeous. he looked up at you and smiled. taking his shorts and boxers off, his dick sprang free and hit his lower abdomen. your heart started to race as you thought you’d never be able to fit that inside of you. he chuckled, noticing your staring. he hovered over you and you reached down to stroke his cock. he rested his forehead on his arm which was on the headboard and sighed deeply. You switched places as he laid back against the headboard. you continued stroking him and started to put the tip in your mouth. sliding your mouth down his thickness, you wondered how much more you could take and when you were gonna reach the end. finally, you felt his tip touch the back of your throat and you pulled back, catching your breath. “it’s okay.” be said.

you smiled and took him in your mouth again, moving up and down causing him to groan. you felt his hand make a makeshift ponytail in your hair, still letting you do the work. “mmm.” you bobbed your head, moaning around his dick. “yes baby- fuck.” he said through pants, he was so close as he pulled you off of him and looked you in the eyes. he kissed you deeply and you whimpered. flipping you over so you were on your back, he lined himself up at your entrance and looked at you to make sure it was okay. you nodded and slowly he started to push into you. you gasped lightly. he was so big. he wasn’t even halfway and it felt like you could feel him in your stomach. he groaned and thrusted into you slowly. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to you. he locked eyes with yours and gave you a kiss, still thrusting into you. “mmm, fuck baby this pussy’s so good.” you hummed in response and you felt his hand wrap around your throat, adding some pressure but you could still get air. he took your thighs and rested your legs around his. you whined out, this new feeling giving you even more pleasure. “mm- you like that baby? hm? feel good?” “yes daddy fuck- please don’t stop!” his eyes rolled back and he let out a groan, loving when you call him that. “fuck- say it again.” he said, squeezing slightly harder and adding some more pressure around your throat. “daddy! you make my pussy feel so good!” you drag out the last letter as he goes faster, both of you so close to your orgasms. you moaned his name and he groaned, the sounds you made could make him cum right there. “look at me when you cum sweetheart, okay?” you nodded. “mmm daddy i’m so close, please!” “god damn you’re beautiful.” all you could let out was a whimper and he felt your walls clenching around him. “cum for me princess, cum for daddy.” and you did as you were seeing stars he followed right after you, filling you up with his warm cum. catching your breaths, he looked up at you and smiled and you did the same, then kissed you. “God damn.”

[fannish-karmiya]

Is Wei Wuxian's Cultivation Actually Harmful to Him?

Throughout Wei Wuxian’s first life, he frequently argues with Lan Wangji over his cultivation. Lan Wangji believes that his cultivation will harm him and eventually destroy him, while Wei Wuxian insists that he has everything under control. Many readers take Lan Wangji’s warnings at face value, leading to the common fandom perception that demonic cultivation (more accurately, the ghost path) is inherently harmful to Wei Wuxian and that he should indeed give it up.

But does the text actually back that up, when we examine Wei Wuxian’s use of his cultivation? While Wei Wuxian does experience a few losses of control, I would argue that they are far more due to circumstances than anything else, and not a sign that the cultivating with resentful energy is inherently harmful to a cultivator’s body or that loss of control is an inevitable conclusion.

Preconceptions

Lan Wangji is the character who most often tries to tell Wei Wuxian that his cultivation is harmful. Immediately when Wei Wuxian returns from the Burial Mounds and meets Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji again while torturing Wen Chao, Lan Wangji expresses concern:

One against two, Lan WangJi still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei WuXian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei WuXian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well.”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

Now, Wei Wuxian’s path (guidao, the ghost path) is brand new. He invented it, being the first person to ever successfully cultivate using yuanqi, or the resentful energy of dead humans. So why does Lan Wangji speak so assuredly of the harm it can cause?

The term ‘cultivating an evil path’ is telling. Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is a new path, but there are other dark paths of cultivation which exist. The Nie sect’s sabres are an example; they absorb the killing intent and evil energy of the yao and guai they kill, and over time their sabres become more and more powerful but also lead the wielder closer and closer to an inevitable qi deviation.

Of course, Lan Wangji is not aware of the Nie sect’s technique, which is a strictly kept secret, at this point. Nie Mingjue only seems to have told Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao because they were his sworn brothers. But there are surely other paths like this which are publicly known.

We know about other dark rituals which are not part of Wei Wuxian’s ghost path, after all, and ‘backlash’ is a frequent risk, either due to making the user vulnerable or failing to fulfil the contract one agreed to.

The body sacrificing ritual which Mo Xuanyu uses, for example, will cause backlash if you fail to keep up your end of the deal.

It was an ancient, forbidden technique. Compared to an array, it resembled a curse more. The caster of the array injures themselves by creating incisions on their body, and draws the array and writes the incantations using their own blood, finishing by sitting in the center of the array. They can then summon an extremely villainous ghoul and ask for it to complete their wish. The price to pay was to offer their body to the evil spirit, with their own soul returning back to Earth.

This was the forbidden technique opposite to stealing another’s body—offering one’s body.

[...]

The difficult part was that, as soon as the evil spirit has taken over the body of the caster, the contract is sealed by default. The evil spirit must grant their wish, or else the curse will cause a backlash. The spirit in possession of the body will be completely annihilated, never to be born again!

(Chapter 2, Exiled Rebels translation)

Interestingly, the harm here is to the ‘evil spirit’ if they fail to keep up their end of the contract. Well, also the caster who gives up his or her life in exchange. At any rate, this sort of thing seems to be a frequent risk of dark cultivation techniques. The paperman technique is also quite risky:

The good thing was that Wei WuXian had once learnt a certain technique of the dark arts—the paper metamorphosis.

Although it was indeed useful, it had a number of restrictions as well. Not only was the time strictly limited, the paperman must also return as it were, after it had been released. There mustn’t even be a single scratch on it. If, on its way, it was torn apart or broken in any way, the soul would receive the same degree of harm—from a year of unconsciousness to a whole lifetime of lunacy. Thus, one must be extremely careful.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

This seems to be a frequent concern with any dark technique, which probably is what led Lan Wangji to believe that Wei Wuxian’s new path would be similarly dangerous. It’s also very worth noting that he grew up in Gusu Lan, which is known for being even more judgmental towards dark cultivation than other sects.

He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.”

Jiang Cheng stared at Lan WangJi, cautious, “Second Young Master Lan, all of us understand the Lan Sect’s ways.

[...]

Wei WuXian had been angered as well, “Lan WangJi! Do you really have to make this difficult at such a point in time? You want me to go to the Cloud Recesses for the GusuLan Sect’s confinement punishment? Who do you think you are, what do you think the GusuLan Sect is?! You really think that I won’t resist?!”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

While many people speak negatively of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, Lan Qiren is particularly virulent when Wei Wuxian first proposes the theory as a teen:

Everyone in the room was stunned. Lan QiRen sprang to his feet, “The essence of exorcising demons and annihilating ghosts is to liberate! You do not study the methods of liberation, and even think about increasing their energy of resentment! You reverse the natural order, and ignore ethics and morality!”

[...]

Another book came flying from Lan QiRen. He spoke harshly, “Then, let me ask you again! How do you make sure that the resentful energy only listens to you and does not harm others?”

Wei WuXian ducked while speaking, “I haven’t thought of it yet!”

Lan QiRen raged, “If you thought of it, the cultivation world would not allow your existence! Get out!”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Due to their father’s seclusion and their mother’s imprisonment, Lan Wangji and his brother were raised by Lan Qiren. With his uncle having such a black and white view of such matters, it’s understandable that Lan Wangji would absorb that and struggle to reconcile the Wei Wuxian he knows and loves with the man who is cultivating an ‘evil’ path.

With his own sect and family so negatively inclined towards Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, I think Lan Wangji was primed to see every behaviour of Wei Wuxian’s through this lens. Similarly, the audience hears the younger Lan Wangji repeat these warnings so many times that I think many readers wind up believing him, too.

Confirmation Bias

However, I think much of this is actually a case of confirmation bias. Lan Wangji is predisposed to see Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as harmful, and is actively looking for signs that it is; he winds up correlating all sorts of things to Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as a result.

He does so when he visits Wei Wuxian in Yunmeng:

Lan WangJi, “Last time, during the hunt on Phoenix Mountain, have you noticed certain signs?”

Wei WuXian, “What signs?”

Lan WangJi, “The loss of control.”

Wei WuXian, “You mean me almost getting into a fight with Jin ZiXuan? I think you got something wrong. I want to fight with Jin ZiXuan whenever I see him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Which is true! Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan just do not get on at all. And if we go back to Phoenix Mountain, it’s clear that this was a perfectly ordinary fight:

However, Jiang YanLi didn’t turn around. Jin ZiXuan was even more enraged. He caught up to her in just three strides and was about to grab her hand when a shadow suddenly flashed before his eyes. Before he could see who it was, he received a blow on his chest. Jin ZiXuan swung his sword across and backed away.

When he finally could see, he raged, “Wei WuXian, why is it you again?!”

Wei WuXian blocked Jiang YanLi behind him, raging as well, “I haven’t fucking said it yet—why is it you again?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “Attacking because of nothing have you gone mad?!”

Wei WuXian struck with his palm, “That’s exactly what I’m doing! What do you mean because of nothing? What are you doing trying to grab my shijie just because of how ashamed you are?!”

Jin ZiXuan dodged to the side and returned to him a sword attack, “If I don’t grab her should I let her walk randomly around the mountain alone?!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan is described as being ‘enraged’ and tries to grab Jiang Yanli. He’s clearly being very hotheaded here himself. What brother wouldn’t be enraged after this, especially given Jin Zixuan’s pattern of speaking of Jiang Yanli derisively?

Earlier, Lan Wangji had forcibly kissed Wei Wuxian while he was blindfolded, and yet he didn’t display any loss of control or temper problems then.

(I also think this ties into how people tend to judge Wei Wuxian more harshly due to his lower social class; he’s often no more brash and arrogant than his peers, but because he’s the son of a servant only he is judged for it. Look at Jin Zixuan pulling his sword on a man who no longer carries a sword! He isn’t criticised for that. But I digress.)

Lan Wangji also believes that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is doing him spiritual harm, using evidence such as Wei Wuxian’s unwillingness to carry his sword or receive spiritual energy to help him heal:

Suddenly, he felt an itch at his throat. Blood began to rise up his chest. Trying to restrain it, Wei WuXian coughed a couple of times. Seeing that Lan WangJi was going to grab his hand again, Wei WuXian dodged, “What are you doing?”

Lan WangJi, “Your injuries.”

Wei WuXian, “No need. Why use spiritual energy for such a small wound? It’ll get better after some sitting around.”

Lan WangJi didn’t waste any words with him, grabbing for his hand again. At this point, two people came from outside of the cave. Wen Qing’s voice sounded, “Get better after some sitting around? Did you think I’m dead?”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

He observes this back when he visited the Burial Mounds in the day, and many years later tells Wen Ning that this was the conclusion he drew:

Wen Ning turned around. He couldn’t help but ask, “Young Master Lan, you don’t seem too surprised about this. Did you… Did you know about this as well?”

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

Working with incomplete information (since he doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian has no golden core, he instead assumes that he is being harmed spiritually by his cultivation) and a pre-existing bias against demonic cultivation, Lan Wangji viewed Wei Wuxian as someone who was bound to lose control at some point, and everything became evidence to prove what he already believed.

Loss of Control

However, I think it’s arguable that the instances where Wei Wuxian loses control are not an inevitability of his cultivation path. Instead, they occur in extremely dangerous combat situations where Wei Wuxian has no allies and is being besieged by hundreds or thousands of enemies.

I want to go over three instances where things go sideways for Wei Wuxian with his cultivation in his first life: Wen Ning’s awakening, the ambush at Qiongqi Path, and the battle at Nightless City.

Now, I wouldn’t even describe Wen Ning’s revival as a loss of control. Wei Wuxian had spent months trying to revive Wen Ning, and in the end he wound up waking up while Wei Wuxian was down in Yiling, not at the Burial Mounds to keep the situation under control. It’s like an unwatched pot boiling over.

Wei WuXian, “Didn’t I say not to touch the talismans on him?!”

Wen Qing didn’t even have the spare seconds to be surprised that Lan WangJi was here. She answered, “Nobody touched them! Not a single person went into the Cave! He tore them off on his own when he suddenly went on a rampage. Not only the ones on himself, he destroyed the restriction seals at the blood pool and the Cave as well! All of the fierce corpses in the blood pool got out. Wei WuXian, go save Granny and the others. They won’t be able to hold up much longer!!!”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Honestly, it’s hard to know based on this what caused Wen Ning to wake up or to return to consciousness. My suspicion is that Wei Wuxian’s efforts had worked, and he woke up with a lot of excess resentful energy he needed to work off; hence going to beat up all the other fierce corpses in the Blood Pool.

After this, Wei Wuxian takes measures to ensure that Wen Ning doesn’t lose consciousness again. For the next year until the ambush at Qiongqi Path, there are absolutely no incidents, and Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian go on night hunts together frequently.

Things only go wrong during the ambush.

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “You’re seeking your own death!”

As he finished, Wen Ning raised his hand and tore off the red string that hung a talisman at his neck.

After the string snapped, his body wavered, and the muscles on his face began to twist. Marks that resembled black cracks crawled up his neck to his cheeks. He suddenly lifted his head, letting out a long, inhuman roar!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wen Ning wears a talisman which presumably suppresses his resentful energy, and which he must remove in order to fight at full strength. After Jin Zixuan shows up and completely fails to de-escalate the situation at all, Wen Ning kills him:

Wei WuXian was suppressing a blazing flame of hatred. His voice was cold, “Jin ZiXuan, move away right now. I won’t touch you, but you’re not going to provoke me either.”

Seeing that he still refused to yield, Jin ZiXuan suddenly lunged forward, as if trying to hold him down, “Why can’t you just back off for once?! A-Li is still…”

Just as he reached toward Wei WuXian, he heard a strange, heavy noise.

The noise was almost a bit too near. Jin ZiXuan paused in surprise. He looked down and finally saw the hand that pierced his chest.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s pretty clear that Wen Ning saw Jin Zixuan lunging towards Wei Wuxian and interpreted him as a threat. As objective observers, we can see that this is actually quite understandable, if tragic, and realistically could have happened similarly in a mundane setting with no magic. But Wei Wuxian of course would start to feel doubt when something so terrible happens:

He was clearly controlling Wen Ning properly.

Even though he activated Wen Ning’s rampage mode, he should still be able to control him.

He’d clearly always been able to control him perfectly.

He didn’t want to kill Jin ZiXuan at all.

He never had the intention to kill Jin ZiXuan at all! It was just that moment. He didn’t know why, but all of a sudden he wasn’t able to control it… He had suddenly lost control!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian had always been able to control Wen Ning perfectly before. Honestly, it’s not a surprise that his control was looser in a situation like this; he’s in the midst of an ambush where 300 people are trying to kill him! Realistically, Jin Zixuan bears some responsibility in his own death, too. When you’re trying to negotiate a ceasefire, you don’t fail to give the target of the attack any assurance of his safety and then lunge for him threateningly! Of course Wen Ning saw him as a threat and acted to defend Wei Wuxian.

Later, Wei Wuxian observes that during his ‘rampage’ state, Wen Ning draws his guidance from Wei Wuxian’s impressions of people:

Listening to him stutter as he apologized over and over again, all of a sudden, Wei WuXian felt extremely ridiculous.

It wasn’t Wen Ning’s fault at all.

It was his own fault.

When on a rampage, Wen Ning was nothing more than a weapon. The person who created the weapon was him. The things it listens to were his orders as well.

At that time, with all the tension and the killing intent on top of how Wei WuXian had never hesitated to show enmity toward Jin ZiXuan in front of Wen Ning, when he was unconscious, Wen Ning recognized Jin ZiXuan as an ‘enemy’ when he attacked, carrying out the order of ‘exterminate’ without a second thought.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I actually think that if Wen Ning had killed, say, Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian would simply have seen it as a case of self-defence and accepted it as that. It’s the fact that Jin Zixuan is the husband of his foster sister (and the one person there he didn’t actually want dead) which turns this into such a tragedy.

The intensely stressful situation in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death is the only time we ever see Wei Wuxian express doubt in his own abilities or regret choosing the ghost path:

With the child’s cries coming to his ears from afar and the scared siblings who were at a complete loss as to what to do in his eyes, Wei WuXian felt his heart sink lower into darkness. He asked himself, Just why have I been locking myself up on Burial Mound all these years? Why do I have to go through all this? Why did I choose to walk this path in the beginning? Why did I make myself like this? What do others see me as? Just what have I gained? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad?!

If only he didn’t choose this path in the beginning.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I think that during this period, Wei Wuxian was under an immense amount of stress. He was the sole protector of 50 people who the world wanted dead, and he had to be strong and confident for them at all times. Only during his initial panic after Jin Zixuan’s death does that confident front break down and show us just how much the stress must have been wearing on him:

As he thought and thought about it, Wei WuXian suddenly broke into tears.

His voice was submerged in a deep helplessness, “… Can someone tell me… what I’m supposed to do now?”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I honestly think that if Wei Wuxian had had someone to lean on and share responsibility with during this time, it would have helped him so much.

In the past, there were only others who asked him what to do. Now, though, he was the one asking others what he should do, and nobody was able to give him an answer.

[...]

Wei WuXian raged, “You can shut the fuck up! It’s already pandemonium the way things are right now! You two can stop adding more trouble onto my platter. Give yourselves in my ass. Did I tell you to do this? Take it out!”

(Chapter 77, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later on, at Nightless City, Wei Wuxian’s loss of control is directly tied by the narrator to his worsening mental state:

The more Wei WuXian panicked, the less control he had. The corpse ignored his command and instead lifted the sword in its hand, slashing it down at Jiang YanLi!

Wei WuXian had lost it, dashing as he shouted, “Stop it, stop it, right now, stop it!”

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

He manages to calm himself down and get back under control:

Jiang YanLi sighed, “A-Xian, you… you should stop first. Don’t, don’t…”

Wei WuXian hurried, “Yes, I’ll stop.”

He took up Chenqing, placed it by his lips, and began to play. He only managed to steady his mind with great effort. This time, the corpses finally stopped ignoring his commands. One after another, strange gurgles echoed in their throats as if they were complaining. Slowly, they bent down.

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

Only when Jiang Yanli is killed by a cultivator aiming for Wei Wuxian does he decide, in his grief and rage, to put the Yinhufu together again:

Yet, no matter the criticism, the blame, Wei WuXian could no longer hear any of them. As if governed by another soul, he reached out and took two objects from within his sleeves. Before everyone’s eyes, he put them together. One half on top and the other below, the two objects snapped into one, letting out a resonating clang.

Wei WuXian placed it on his palm and raised it high into the air.

It was the Stygian Tiger Seal!

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

We know that after the Bloodbath of Nightless City, as this battle comes to be known, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian back to Yiling. However, Wei Wuxian is in a very poor mental state (most likely due to stress, exhaustion, and trauma), and only regains awareness a few days later at the Burial Mounds.

This is when he decides that the Yinhufu is a weapon which he should never have created, and determines to destroy it.

After using it for the second time, he finally decided to destroy one half of the seal. Before he could completely destroy the other half, the siege at Luanzang Hill happened, and it had since then been beyond his capabilities.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wei Wuxian was actually able to successfully destroy one half of the seal, and start work on the second, in the three months between Nightless City and the First Siege.

Toward his own creation, Wei WuXian was confident to say that even if the sect that got hold of it, made a temple for it, and offered it incense every single day, the remaining half of the Tiger Seal was just a piece of scrap iron. However, Lan WangJi told him something shocking—it appeared that Xue Yang could rebuild the other half of the seal!

Although Xue Yang was young, he was also quite clever, a bizarre eccentric. The LanlingJin Sect discovered that he could use the remaining half of the seal to roughly piece together the other half. Even though the recreated version wasn’t as powerful and couldn’t be used for as long, it could already result in terrible catastrophes.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

I gather that the first half, he completely neutralised. The second half had not been fully drained of power when the First Siege happened. We never see the First Siege, but I think we can hazard a guess that once the Wens were massacred, Wei Wuxian knew that it was all over, and decided to destroy the second half of the Yinhufu so that no one there could get their hands on it. It is likely the backlash from improperly destroying/neutralising the Yinhufu which led to his corpses turning on him and ripping him apart.

Wei Wuxian does confirm that some sort of backlash killed him:

Wen Ning whispered, “Sect Leader Jiang, Jiang Cheng, brought a siege upon the Burial Mounds. And he killed you.”

Wei WuXian, “I’ll have to clarify this one. He didn’t kill me. I died from a backfire.”

(Chapter 43, Exiled Rebels translation)

“That’s merely hearsay. Although Jiang Cheng was one of the main forces, he did not give Wei WuXian the final blow. Because he cultivates the Demon Path, Wei WuXian’s powers had backfired and he was ripped to pieces.”

“Hahahaha… That’s karma! The ghost soldiers that he created are like unleashed dogs, biting everyone that they come across. It serves him right to be chewed to death!”

(Chapter 1, Exiled Rebels translation)

While the vast majority of information in the prologue is revealed later to be lies, Wei Wuxian does confirm this. Strictly, the ‘ghost soldiers’ were probably his fierce corpses. ‘Ghost’ or ‘Gui’ is used in Modao Zushi’s magic system as a catch-all phrase for dead humans, whether they’re actual ghosts (incorporeal spirits) or reanimated corpses. We know that Wei Wuxian was using huge numbers of fierce corpses to act as guards at the entrance to the Burial Mounds and protect the Wens, after all.

Wei Wuxian’s Second Life

So the risk of backlash is confirmed as a threat when using guidao and other dark cultivation techniques. However, it seems that they either have a clear contract which has to be fulfilled (like in the body sacrifice ritual), or a clearly defined risk which can be mitigated or prevented entirely through careful use.

It’s notable that Wei Wuxian is in control of his cultivation far more often than not, and in his second life we see absolutely no losses of control from him. This is probably down to a few things, one of them being greater experience. He also is no longer working alone; Lan Wangji is nearly always at his side or very nearby, which removes the intense stress of trying to fight against the entire world alone.

Honestly, I can’t even pull up any instances of Wei Wuxian struggling to control his cultivation in his second life or being even mildly harmed by it; there are absolutely none. We only ever see him dealing with mundane exhaustion, stress, and physical injuries.

He recovers very quickly from performing Empathy with Nie Mingjue:

Hearing this, Wei WuXian instantly pulled himself out!

He was still the thin paperman, stuck to the helmet that sealed Nie MingJue’s head. He had tugged loose the knot that tied the iron shells over Nie MingJue’s eyes, revealing a bloodshot eye, opened wide with anger.

[...]

There wasn’t much time left. He must return to his corporal body immediately!

Paperman WuXian flapped his sleeves, flying out as though he were a butterfly.

[...]

A while later, once his soul had returned successfully, Wei WuXian immediately took a deep breath. He raised his head, opened his eyes, and suddenly stood up. Yet, having not expected his body to still be disoriented, he felt dizzy and leaned forward. Seeing this, Lan WangJi caught him in his arms. Wei WuXian lifted his head once more, and the top of his head collided with Lan WangJi’s chin. With a thud, both of them grunted in pain. Wei WuXian rubbed his head with one hand and felt Lan WangJi’s chin with the other, “Ugh! I’m sorry. Lan Zhan, you alright?”

His chin having been stroked a couple of times, Lan WangJi lightly took Wei WuXian’s hand away before shaking his head. Wei WuXian tugged him, “Let’s go!”

(Chapter 50, Exiled Rebels translation)

After this, he is stabbed by Jin Ling and winds up spending four days unconscious in Cloud Recesses. I’ve seen it suggested that his short bout of hallucinating after he wakes up is due to harm from his cultivation, but I firmly disagree. He’d been unconscious for four days after being stabbed!

He immediately let go, almost wanting to roll away. His movement was so large that it hurt the wound at his stomach. He exclaimed an ‘ah’ as he scrunched his brows, finally remembering that he was still injured. Amid the stars before his eyes, Jing Ling, Jiang Cheng, Jiang YanLi, Jiang FengMian, Madam Yu… Many faces spun around in a large circle.

[...]

Only having ensured that his injuries were indeed fine did Lan WangJi finally let him go, “Four days.”

Jin Ling’s sword stabbed right through. The wound hadn’t been shallow at all. How it healed within four days without even leaving a scar behind meant that high level medicine of the GusuLan Sect had to have been necessary. Wei WuXian thanked him, mocking himself along the way, “I’ve reincarnated but somehow I’ve become even weaker. I couldn’t keep going after just a single stab.”

(Chapter 63, Exiled Rebels translation)

After being a bit muddled upon first waking up, he’s fine. He was also dreaming about his past while unconscious, which is why he’s described as seeing all these faces ‘amid the stars before his eyes’. The flashbacks in Refinement and Poisons-Evil are both framed as Wei Wuxian sleeping and dreaming about the past, and he’s thinking about them as a result; he’s not portrayed as actually hallucinating and thinking they’re really there.

Wei Wuxian is very drained by the events of the Second Siege and faints twice afterwards. However, it’s worth noting that during the Second Siege, he didn’t really use resentful energy (he couldn’t, as all the corpses there were under the control of the Yinhufu); he used talismans, which only require a small amount of spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian even specifically states that Mo Xuanyu’s body is very weak, refusing to use Suibian before the Second Siege:

He wore it by his waist and didn’t seem like he was going to use it. Seeing how Lan WangJi looked at him, he fiddled with his hair and explained, “I haven’t used a sword in so many years. I’m not used to it.” As he spoke, he sighed again, “Alright. The real reason is that my current body is low in spiritual energy. Even if there’s a high level sword, it won’t be able to make the best use of it. And so, it’ll be up to HanGuang-Jun to protect the delicate man that I am.”

(Chapter 68, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian collapses due to exhaustion on the boat ride to Lotus Pier:

OuYang ZiZhen, “HanGuang-Jun, why did Senior Wei collapse?”

Lan WangJi, “Fatigue.”

Lan JingYi was amazed, “I thought that Senior Wei would never get tired!”

(Chapter 84, Exiled Rebels translation)

He collapses again during the fight at the Jiang ancestral hall:

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying?!” His low voice rang within Wei WuXian’s ears, echoing endlessly.

Wei WuXian was starting doubt if something happened to his ears, “What’s wrong?”

He felt something streak down his face, but reached up only to retrieve a handful of scarlet. Accompanied by throbs of dizziness, blood continued to drip down his nose and his mouth, onto the ground.

[...]

Having come to the conclusion that Wei WuXian was only in a temporary state of unconsciousness due to extreme fatigue and anger, Lan WangJi finally tore his gaze away.

(Chapter 88, Exiled Rebels translation)

When he wakes up in Chapter 90, he feels unwell but recovers fairly quickly:

For a long while, he couldn’t figure out what was happening. Only when he saw the splatters of blood on Lan WangJi’s left sleeve, like a string of plum blossoms resting on snow, did he finally recall what happened before he passed out from anger. His expression twisted at once as he suddenly sat upright. Lan WangJi went to help him, but the ringing in Wei WuXian’s ears hadn’t stopped yet.

[...]

Lan WangJi knew that he wasn’t feeling well. Silent, he didn’t ask anything. He lay one hand on his back, sending him a warm thread of spiritual energy.

[...]

Looking around, Wei WuXian suddenly exclaimed, “I’m hungry.”

Lan WangJi looked up. Of course, Wei WuXian wasn’t hungry at all. He had just eaten three pies at the vendor in front of Lotus Pier’s gates. Lan WangJi only ate one, however, and it was the only thing he’d eaten in the past two days. The matter was on Wei WuXian’s mind.

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

The narrative again directly links it to exhaustion, not to anything more ominous than that:

In the fight at Burial Mound, Wei WuXian exerted too much energy and stamina. Both his mind and his body were strained for too long. A few hours earlier, Jiang Cheng angered him so much that he almost bled from his qiqiao.

He only recovered after a long time of rest. Although he didn’t feel too bad right now, if there was something he missed and he pushed himself all the way to Lanling, it was hard to tell whether or not an accident would happen at a critical moment. On top of that, he wasn’t the only one straining his mind and body in the past few days. Lan WangJi didn’t rest for a second either.

(Chapter 91, Exiled Rebels translation)

As said, there simply isn’t any proof, based on Wei Wuxian’s second life, that his cultivation is doing him harm, nor does he ever lose control of it.

This definitely indicates to me that Wei Wuxian’s losses of control in his first life were related to the circumstances and not an inevitable risk of his cultivation path.

In Conclusion

I actually suspect that Lan Wangji himself came to the same conclusion; he only ever gently warns Wei Wuxian to be careful when using dark techniques during his second life:

Lan WangJi let the paperman wriggle on his ribbon for some time. Just as he reached out to take it down, the paperman slid its way down as fast as it could. No matter intentionally or not, it bumped its head once against his lips.

Lan WangJi’s movements paused for a moment. Using two of his fingers, he finally caught it, “Do not fool around.”

Softly, the paperman rolled its body over his slender finger.

Lan WangJi, “You must be careful.”

The paperman nodded and flapped its wings. Clinging flat onto the ground, it climbed through the door slit and snuck out of the guest room.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

He still does have some level of distaste for Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, I would argue, due to the way he instantly latches onto the idea that Wei Wuxian would never have turned to the ghost path if not for his lost golden core:

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

Wen Ning, “If not because of this…”

If not because there really wasn’t a second path to walk on.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

But the discussion of Wei Wuxian’s feelings on his cultivation is one for another day.

At any rate, I doubt that Lan Wangji is only holding back his feelings on the ghost path due to wanting to avoid any more fights with Wei Wuxian. After all, he spent 13 years mourning him. If he still believed that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation was going to eventually kill him, I doubt he would accept it so much more readily now.

I think the lesson he learnt, after looking back and thinking on the past a great deal, was indeed that Wei Wuxian would not have suffered such losses of control if he had had anyone to rely on in his past life. So now Lan Wangji always stands by his side and ensures that he will never reach such a state of desperation again.

[callme-barnes]

A Lesson in the Art of Seduction

*GIF does not belong to me!*

Summary: You love the way Bucky sounds when you’re making him fall apart. So after a night out, you decide to put a little plan into action to fulfill one of your fantasies. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,310

Warnings: SMUT (possibly poorly written), oral sex (m! receiving), IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ only!

A/N: Again, 18+ only! Minors DNI! Please do not repost my work anywhere! I wrote it for Tumblr so it should stay on Tumblr. Idk what the title is that’s the hardest part of this writing stuff! This is my first time ever writing smut of any kind. I’m surprised I was able to get it out on screen but I’ve had this idea on my mind all day so I guess that’s why I was able to finish it. Again, I’m not thinking much about posting this so I won’t back out so all mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

_____________________________________

If there was one thing about James Buchanan Barnes, just one thing, that you could enjoy every single day for the rest of your life was the way he sounded. The way he grunted after lifting something heavy. His gasping for air when he came back to the apartment from a run. The moans and groans in protest when you needed to get out of bed in the morning for work but he wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet.

And then there was the not so PG version of those delightful sounds.

The grunting when he seated himself inside of you after a short dry spell when he went on a mission. The gasps you pulled out of him when you were riding him like you might never be able to again. The moans and groans he presented to you when he was fucking you into the mattress. Him fucking you was something you wanted until the day you would die to be honest. The power you felt you held, to be the reason the ex Winter Soldier was falling apart at the seams, was the best thing to have in your true opinion. It's a power you liked to take full advantage of, as well as test out every now and again.

Which brought you to this very moment in time. You were hardly the type to be jealous. It was a promise you made to yourself after a young life full of jealousy in partners. The feeling you had within you right now was not one of jealousy exactly, but more playful curiosity. You were both returning from a public Avengers event, a little earlier in the night than expected but the feeling you were feeling just couldn’t wait. It bubbled to the surface when you watched an investor get a little too close to Bucky. It seemed like the more their conversation went on, the closer she got and the more hands on she decided to get.

When you made your way over to them to join their conversation, the woman pulled out her card, handed it to Bucky and walked away, probably wanting to keep that mystery working for her. You remember the move well, it was what you used on Bucky when you first met him. You smirked to yourself when you approached him, him reiterating what the woman spoke to him about and you nodded in acknowledgment, your eyes peering up at him through your lashes, sending him a knowing look. A knowing that only you knew what was going to happen tonight, and he had no idea what was going to be coming to him.

Bucky had walked up to your apartment building and unlocked the door before stepping in and removing the jacket he had on, you following close behind him.

“Who would’ve thought these functions would start to become a monthly occurrence”

You laughed as you set your bag down on the counter and slipped off your heels, “Yeah well you are a part of the team. The rich people gotta know who their investing in after all”

Bucky reached out to you and hugged you to his chest, the gesture making you even more ready to show him exactly what you were all about. Just before he reached down to press a kiss to your neck his pocket began to vibrate. He let out a small groan, one of those cute little frustrated groans that you loved hearing from him so much. He reached in and pulled out his phone and answered, his face lightly exasperated. You heard a woman on the other side and you smirked a bit to yourself, realizing it was the woman from the party.

The plan you had to begin the night was in rotation, thanks to not only your scheming, but Natasha’s willingness to help you. Before you left you asked for the assistance from the super spy to get the woman from the party to give Bucky a call. You left Bucky’s side, his lips turning down into a frown as he began to hold a conversation, although it was very clear to you he would rather start doing something else.

You made your way to the room, slipping off your jewelry and letting Bucky drop his guard a bit. He had to be completely oblivious in order for you to get the reactions you wanted to get from him, and you were more determined than ever to get him to be vocal tonight. You knew he wouldn’t look at any other woman the way he looked at you, but tonight you wanted to just show him exactly why that was. You wanted him to fall apart, and you wanted to be the reason he did.

After about 5 minutes, you walked out to the living space seeing Bucky had unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and was sipping on a beer, sitting down on the couch as he continued his conversation. He looked up, giving you an apologetic look since he wasn’t supposed to be exactly working right now. You smirked a bit to yourself as you sent him back a reassuring smile before you pushed yourself away from the doorframe you were leaning against.

You maintained eye contact with him as you swayed your hips and made your way over to the couch. Bucky’s eyes watched you very closely, the way your hips moved and the way your legs looked in the dress you were wearing made his body react and you knew that. You made your way behind him, the sofa back separating you from him as you reached your hands to his shoulders. You began to massage his shoulders a bit, your fingers kneading into the thick muscle that was present there. Bucky let out a soft sigh in response, leaning back and enjoying the actions you were making. You leaned over to kiss the side of his neck as your hands slipped down from his shoulders to his chest, your lips now traveling up to his ear.

“Pay attention to your phone call Bucky, let’s not be rude”

The tip of Bucky’s tongue flicked out against his bottom lip as you made your way to stand in front of him, his eyes roaming down against you once again. You smiled at him before you ran your hands down the front of your body, making your way down to your knees in between his parted legs. Bucky made to sit up before you moved to press him back against the sofa again.

“I’m sorry can you hold for a second…”

You raised an eyebrow at him as he pulled the phone away from his ear, “What do you think you’re doing pretty girl?”

Your hand trailed down his chest, to his abdomen and continued its way down until you reached the tent that was fully formed in his dress pants, the hitch in his voice like music to your ego.

“Just being productive while you're preoccupied. Shouldn’t keep her waiting, finish your phone call James”

Bucky muttered a quick ‘fuck’ under his breath before he pulled the phone back to his ear, “I’m really sorry about that what were you saying?”

You maintained eye contact with him as you popped open the button to his pants and unzipped him, your other hand resting on the thickness of his thighs before making its way to release him from the confines of his briefs. His thick cock sprang free, slapping him lightly on his lower abdomen as your eyes moved from his face to the entire reason you were down on your knees. You sent him a smile, taking him in your hand and bringing him to your lips, the way his abs tightened making you more than excited to continue.

Bucky’s free hand reached down to caress your cheek and made its way up into your hair in anticipation. Your tongue reached out and began to lick at his dick slowly, taking your time to really map out where it was that made him shiver and clench up. You gave him that sultry look between your lashes and you could’ve sworn you saw his soul leave his body as you leaned up and took him into your mouth. You took your time, working on the tip of his dick before you felt you had him on edge enough to take him further into your mouth towards the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck...shit”

Bucky’s hand tightened into your hair, not quite pushing you down just yet but just holding onto you to keep him grounded in a way, “Sorry I was...I dropped something”

You internally laughed as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand fisting and pumping at the rest of what you weren’t quite ready to bless him with yet.

“No I don’t….I don’t think that would be a problem”

Bucky sounded breathless as he spoke, the way he was trying to maintain control was cute to you, but you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. You wanted him breathless, and you wanted to be the reason why. You kept your pace, jerking him off and sucking him as he continued his conversation. When you felt he had gotten too comfortable controlling himself you removed your hand and pushed your head down to take in the rest of him down your throat, gagging around him in response. Bucky quickly jerked up in surprise, causing his hand to hold onto your hair tighter and pressed you down in the process.

“Shit! Holy fuck”

His hand reached to the back of your head as you sped up your head bobbing, now taking it upon himself to push you down against him and letting his hips meet you halfway into your mouth. You looked up at him again to gauge his face and holy fuck you were sure you were going to cum with how he was looking. His eyes were closed, his lips parted and in that tiny grin that you loved seeing on him because it meant he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Bucky twitched in your mouth, the beginnings of his orgasm coming when you suddenly slowed down your movements, wanting to keep him on the edge for as long as you possibly could.

“No I just...fuck I’m going to have to call you later. I’m sorry”

Bucky quickly hung up and through his phone behind him, his other hand reached over to join his grip on your head, causing you to let out a moan in response.

“Shit you’re such a bad girl baby. You like me watching me struggle to stay together don't you? That shit turn you on?”

You let out a hum in approval at his words as you sped up once again, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth and your gagging getting less prominent the more you took his dick down your throat.

“Shit sweetheart, I’m gonna fucking cum. Want me to cum down your throat? You want this don’t you?”

Bucky grabbed onto your hair and pulled you completely off of him, making you gasp and look up at him as he leaned over and pulled you to meet him halfway, meeting you to kiss you roughly. It was all tongue and teeth, your hands rested on his thighs and your core pulsing in anticipation.

“Tell me. Tell me you want it”

He pushed you back down to your position as he took himself in his hand and pumped himself in front of you, making you whine with how hot he sounded to you right now.

“Fuck I want it. Give it to me Bucky please. Please I want it so bad”

Bucky smirked as he stopped pumping himself and pushed you close to him, you taking the hint and taking him completely down your throat once again, “Then take it baby. Fucking take it. Oh shit yes just like that Y/N”

You let out a moan, swearing that if it weren’t for Bucky’s hand in your hair you would think this was all just a dream. Bucky allowed himself to moan, a string of ‘oh shit’ and ‘fuck’ coming out of his mouth. Soon it turned into just your name, over and over again, causing you to grind down to receive some sort of friction, any type of friction. You felt Bucky pulse and tighten in your mouth before he released, the sound of his moans and gasps making you grind down a bit harder. His hand tightened in your hair as you continued sucking him off until he was spent, and even a little after that.

“Shit Y/N, you gotta...gotta stop baby”

You couldn’t help but continue, just for the simple fact that he wanted you to stop. Bucky moaned and grabbed you, pulling you off of him. You let out a small gasp for air as he pulled you off and you sat back on your heels, just watching him recover from your actions. His chest was rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, his hand running through his hair before looking up and over at you. You sent him an innocent look, but the smirk that you sent him was the complete opposite. Devilish, sexy and a little bit mischievous.

“Shit Y/N you....I don’t know what all that was about, but I’ve got a feeling you had that planned somehow”

You smiled and shrugged, “Just had to prove a point to myself”

Bucky let out a groan and smiled before he moved over quickly grabbing you and standing up. You yelled as you wrapped your legs around him and laughed as he made his way over to your room, “My turn now you little minx”

[cloudenthusiast2]

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 5

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 4

Length: not too long:)

Trigger warnings: blood, fighting

You slowly opened your eyes.

The clouds that were orange and pink not so long ago now had turned dark along with the sky.

You've just realised how long you have been sitting on the cliff.

The chilly weather suddenly felt genuinely cold and a shiver ran down your spine. You wore light clothes not suited for a night in Liuye's mountains.

'I should start heading back' you thought. But you didn't move.

A few days have passed since Scaramouche left but it still felt like the wound he caused was wide open. You avoided every interaction with others and luckily they were considerate enough to let you be. No one gave you requests or tasks, they dealt with their problems themselves so you could be alone for a while.

A little guilt stung your chest. You said you would always protect them yet you were selfish enough to only think about yourself for days.

On the other hand, you also felt a little burnout. You still loved the village as much as you used to - maybe even more, now that it was the only thing left that you cared about - but you didn't want to go back to your previous way of living. Even though Scaramouche wasn't a part of your daily routine, everything felt so empty without him. Just thinking about him made you smile any time and you could always look forward to his visits. And when he was actually there, he made everything feel shiny and wonderful.

He sure was the grumpiest man but that just made his soft moment worth even more. How delighted you felt when he laughed at your stupid jokes or gave you a smile that wasn't teasing or (too) smug. When he first held your hand you couldn't stop grinning for days.

You let out a quiet chuckle as you remembered your beautiful memories together. For a few seconds the grief was gone with your smile but when it finally faded away the sorrow became even sharper in your heart.

But it actually wasn't that painful any more. It still hurt really deeply but now you could at least think of the benefits of the new situation.

Something that you always hated about being with Scara was that the village lived in a low-key but constant fear. They were all afraid of the fatui. And for a good reason, as you realised after their last visit.

Now you could at least keep them more safe. They didn't have to be afraid of your lover and his power any more.

You stared at the dark sky one last time then shook your head. You stood up, getting ready to head back to the village but your mind was still invaded by thoughts of Scara.

The rocks under your shoes jingled as you took a step forward.

Another step, another sound of them tinkling together.

Another step and a scream.

You flinched and immediately glanced at the rocks. But they weren't the ones making the desperate sound.

You stared in front of you, your mind numb and empty without any thoughts.

Another scream. Human voices strengthening and getting louder and louder in the distance.

You looked up slowly, turning your gaze to where the village was. It was pitch black. Until red dots started lighting up.

'Oh no' you whispered to yourself.

The realisation hit you and your whole body froze for a moment.

'Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...'

You finally moved, grabbing your polearm off your back. Then you started running.

There was no time to safely climb down on the mountainside. You threw yourself off the cliff, slashing through the cold air and landing on your weapon. Running and jumping again like your whole life depended on it.

It probably did. The village was the only thing you wanted to live for after Scaramouche left.

Terrible guilt stabbed your heart. You couldn't believe you neglected the place and people you once swore to protect. You couldn't believe you actually forgot about them and selfishly only cared about your wounds even though they needed you.

And now they were attacked.

Fear crawled up on your spine as you jumped up from a cliff. You were pretty close to the village now.

Out of breath, you heart beating at a crazy speed but you were ready to take any monsters down.

You landed on your spear, slipped and fell painfully. But you were up on your feet in a blink of an eye, sprinting again.

The village was in a worse situation than you had imagined.

You ran through the gates and stopped, looking around to see where your help was needed the most.

It was needed everywhere.

Your eyes grew wide open.

The houses were on fire, burning and lighting up the night. People were running around in chaos, monsters chasing them. Abbys mages sent whole blaze bombs after them. They set everything on fire.

An abandoned child crying on the stairs. Her father fighting a mitachurl with a single hack. Mothers desperately trying to find their family.

The blood red flames reflected in your eyes as you stood there, numbed by the terrifying destruction.

You moved on your own as you clenched your fist around the spear.

You jumped at the speed of the light. One moment you were still standing under the gates and the next you flashed your way through a group of hilichurls.

There were just corpses left behind in your way.

An old man cried for your help when he saw you. He was trying to protect his house from an abyss mage.

You landed behind the monster. It heard the noise and tried to turn around.

But before it could've even moved an inch, your whole body strained then let loose. Hydro bursting out of your veins, it broke through the mage's shield in an instant.

It fell but never reached the ground. Your spear cut through it in mid-air.

'Thank you!' The old man panted, his entire body trembling. 'I...'

'Leave the village!' You yelled through the discord of screams and roars. 'Go to the bamboo forest!'

'But my house...'

'Leave. Now.' You ordered in a way that it was impossible to disobey.

Then you moved on.

Your aura was filled with tense hydro vibrating in the dark. It strangled the monsters with one touch but suffocated you as well.

But you didn't feel the pain at all. Everything inside you focused on the fighting and precise killing. You flashed from one side of the village to another, trying to save the people you swore to protect.

But even though your strength was almost non-human in these minutes of crisis it still felt incredibly lacking.

The whole village was on fire at this point. The abyss mages did not care about their puppets, they burned hilichurls as well as people.

Because there were so many of them.

You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and looked around desperately. There were so many monsters. And so many people you still needed to save.

The heat was unbearable. Sweatdrops streamed down your face despite the constant hydro aura surrounding you.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and you nearly fell over.

A lawachurl slammed his fists down. It let out a huge roar and turned to the closest person to it.

A frightened cry left your lips as you recognised the tiny figure.

Little Yu.

She rose her arms, shielding something behind her. She seemed almost fearless as she looked straight into the gigantic monster's eyes. But it was still a ridiculous try to stop the lawachurl.

It lifted its fists into the air, getting ready to cause another earthquake.

It swang it...

But before it could have reached the ground, you appeared in front of him out of blue.

Your spear cut through its left fist. The monster shook and roared in pain. It tried to grab you but you quickly dodged and sprang back.

The lawachurl let out a deep growl and slowly straightened up.

You couldn't help but feel ludicrously tiny compared to the huge figure. It started to manifest its geo shield. You stepped back in slight panic and glanced at Yu behind you.

'Y/n!' She cried out, grabbing the edge of your coat. 'I'm so happy you're here! Please protect us!'

You finally recognised the figure behind her. It was her wounded mother kneeling on the ground, bleeding out. Yet, the look in her daughter's eyes was brave and now hopeful.

She had faith in you. They all had their faith in you.

This thought was the only thing giving you strength.

You grabbed her arm and leaned closer to her as the lawachurl started walking towards you in the background.

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like exploding, the blood streaming in your veins hot and tense. But you still managed to sound calm when you spoke to the child.

'Listen carefully to what I have to say. Do you remember the spot where you met me and the harbinger a few days ago?' She nodded. 'Collect as many people as you can from the village and the bamboo forest and go there. Hide and don't come out until you're completely sure the monsters are gone. Do you understand?'

'Yes' she answered. But she still seemed hesitant.

'What is it?' You asked hastily for the lawachurl was getting closer to you with every passing moment.

'Will you be alright?' She asked, locking eyes with you.

'Of course' you gently pushed her backwards to her mother who seemed to have regained her consciousness. 'Now go!'

She nodded and helped her mother stand up. You made sure they got out of your zone safely.

Then turned around.

Just in time to see the lawachurl slamming down its fists.

You dodged and jumped upwards. Spun in the air and stabbed your spear infused with hydro into the monster's thick skin.

You landed safely on the ground with the bloody polearm in your grip.

The lawachurl roared so loudly that his voice shook the mountains. It swang towards you blinded by the pain but you dodged again.

You straightened up directly in front of it. Clenched your teeth together before quickly telling a quiet prayer.

You were ready to face all monsters.

[whumpofdory]

More Than You Bargained For, Part 4

CW: Tics, Ticced threats of violence, cursing, fear of punishment, thinking of deserving death, lmk if i missed anything

The pets looked at each other. They had not been taught how to work a shower. Peyton went into his bathroom and Dexter moved to his. 

Now how to turn on the water. Dexter looked at the knob attached to the wall of the shower. He turned it this way and that, but nothing made water come from the faucet. He kept twisting it, back and forth, and then even pulled on it to see if it would yield any results. No luck. He walked to the other pet’s room to see if he was having any more progress. Not ‘the other pet’ now. He was Peyton. 

Peyton was having as much difficulty as Dexter. When the dark haired pet walked into his bathroom, for a second he hoped it meant he was there to show him how it worked. Instead, he asked questions in a hushed tone. 

“Have you figured it out? I can’t get the shower to work. They didn’t teach me.” His large green eyes held all the worry he felt.  It seemed wrong to speak to each other like this. They hadn’t been allowed to converse with other pets in the facility, and it usually wasn’t a problem once they had been sold. Here, they didn’t know what to do; if they would or would not get in trouble for talking. Were they being bad? 

“No.” The other’s face betrayed no emotion. He was like a wall of stone.

“Maybe we should ask Master? He said to get him if we needed anything.” Dexter suddenly felt very ridiculous. What kind of useless pet needed help turning on the water for a shower? 

“Which one of us should go?”

“I think we should both go together. Maybe then it will be clear they didn’t teach us at the facility.” They both knew the meaning behind the words. Maybe if we both go, the punishment will be less. Maybe he won’t  think we’re just stupid. Maybe. 

They walked down the stairs quietly together, Peyton a bit in front. Padded toward the study where Master was quietly. There were sounds coming from the room. “Fuck off. Run away. Be careful! B-b-b-b-b-be careful!” Accompanied by whistles and interspersed clicks. 

Peyton’s stomach turned. Perhaps it was a warning, a dark omen of what would happen if they interrupted him. He paused for a moment, and Dexter ran into him causing him to grunt and almost knocking him off balance. Master turned around. “Do you guys need something?”

“We, um, can’t figure out how the shower works, Master.” Peyton said after kneeling. Dexter followed his lead and dropped to his knees a second later. 

“Oh, no problem. I can come help.” He stood and took up his crutches. They made their way to Peyton’s room, then into the adjoining bathroom. Master bent down and pulled hard on the knob. A deluge of water sprang to life under the faucet. 

“Sorry Master, I thought I’d tried that.” Dexter said sheepishly.

“It’s fine, maybe you just didn’t pull hard enough. Let’s go see-” Warren paused and stared at Peyton. 

The pet was already undressing to get in the shower, with them there. It’s not that nudity bothered him, of course, before the accident he’d been a nurse and was used to it. What gave him pause was the massive scar that ran from Peyton’s left shoulder diagonally across his back all the way down to his right knee. It was a long, thick mass of whitish pink scar tissue. It was old enough Warren couldn’t tell if it was from a burn or a blade. He looked over at Dexter, who was staring with the same confusion and awe.

Peyton could feel their eyes on him. He was used to it now, after all the sellers who had seen him and turned him down because of it. He would certainly be sold now, even if he wasn’t a romantic. He stepped into the shower and heard Master and Dexter leave. 

Master led Dexter to his bathroom and turned on the water. “See? Just didn’t pull hard enough. No worries.” He added when he saw the pet’s concern written across his face. “Can I set you on fire? I’ll fucking kill you, bitch.”

The pet instantly dropped to his knees, horrified. Was I truly so bad? He won’t even wait a month to sell me? He’s just going to kill me now and make it painful. It’s what I deserve- 

“I’m so sorry!” Warren said. He usually didn’t have those tics around anyone, especially someone who would think he’d really do it. “It’s a tic, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s not a tic, I’m gonna burn you. That’s not a tic. That’s not a- It is, I’m so sorry- ” The wide terrified green eyes watched him half run half hobble out of the room.

Taglist:  @maracujatangerine @hardleyquinnn

[yeahimaloser]

Oooo I also got another good request how about a hawks x reader childhood friends they grow up together she took his punishments for him yk they have each other’s back and then in the future a villian attack and she ALMOST dies but no she gets save then hawks realizes he loves her and it’s all fluff at the end eek

Ok so, I literally love this request so much, I have no idea why it took me so long to write, but it's finally done!

Oh my god it took so long.

they/them pronouns used.

8k words! please enjoy!

16+ a bit suggestive at the end.

. . .

You sniffed, a hand wiping across your face as tears stung your eyes.

You had been training with the commission for a while now, almost a month to be exact. And it was so hard. In fact, it felt more like they were specifically targeting you.

You looked over at one of the other kids in the commissions program, Keigo, he seemed to have no problem with this exercise, in fact, you would have thought he was excelling at it.

But you could only sit and watch as his little wings flew past you.

You were only pulled from your family recently, but you knew that Keigo was here longer than you were. You rarely talked to him since your arrival, maybe it was because part of you didn’t want to become friends with anyone, maybe it was a small way of acting out, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t like him. He was just so much better than you.

Ever since you first came here, you’ve felt weak. You felt inferior to Keigo, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to him, watching exciede everyones expectations.

Compared to him, you were nothing but a dull blade.

You look down at your hands, cursing them as if that would do you any good. Your eyes stung again, the dust prickling against your eyelids.

The exercise was not supposed to be a difficult one, in terms of the gruelling training practices that they made you do, this one was pretty easy. All you had to do was get from one point in the commission's training facility, all the way to the other side of said facility. A simple running exercise. Although the floors were littered with traps, making it harder for you to get there, you knew it was supposed to be easy. And yet, for whatever reason, you had such immense difficulty.

Your quirk was mostly made for combat. It was the power they gave you the ability to control metal through your will. And although others might find it useful, you found it so difficult.

The problem was, your power was flashy, and yet not as easy to use as one might think. The metal had to touch you, which means that you have to get a hold of some metal object. And although technically you would be controlling it through your mind (Making it fly through the air at your own will) the object couldn’t be very heavy. Whatever metal object you wanted to use would weaken you. For example, controlling a knife was no problem, but controlling a 20 pound ball of metal was extremely difficult. which made your quirk almost completely useless here. Doing a running exercise, like you were doing now, there is little to nothing you could do with your quirk. The only times that your quirk would actually be useful, was during rescue missions or during an attack with multiple heroes in a big city with a lot of metal that you could touch. But that wasn't the case, and you hated it.

As you sat in the corner, trying desperately not to show your tears, you felt a gust of air as you looked up, only to be met with red wings.

“Are you…Ok?”

You never noticed how pretty his eyes were, the honey color’s made his features look so much softer.

After a few minutes, you realized he was still waiting for you to answer.

And for whatever reason, you felt your whole face becoming hot.

“I’m fine.” You said all too quickly.

He raises a bushy eyebrow at you, his face quizzical. “If you’re sure, but we are partners.”

You rolled your eyes.

You two were never truly partners. In this compound, there was only yourself to be concerned with.

“Stop pitying me, I can help myself.”

He smirked, “You say as if you’re not on the ground as we speak.”

You felt your face heating up again as you sprang to your feet, your eyes quickly narrowed, trying your best to seem composed.

“Why did you come back for me?”

But Keigo just shrugged, “Saw someone in need of help.”

That was the last straw.

You angrily stomped away. Who was he to judge you? Who was he to act like some hero? You knew he was the commission's golden boy, they loved him, he was their best weapon.

And you knew he was bright enough to know that as well. Although he never got any special treatment, you could tell by the way they trained him, how they paid more attention to his abilities and not so much the other’s.

Including you.

You felt something pull at you, something tugging you back.

You turned to see- a feather?

“Hey wait a sec,” Keigo said, “I wanna ask you something.”

Your face hardened, you two should be getting back to training soon, you knew the instructor would most likely yell at the two of you for falling too much behind.

“Ask your question and let's go,” you said, huffing.

“Do you want to be friends?”

The question caught you so off guard, causing you to stumble over a rock in front of you.

You whiped back to him, your eyes widen as you realized he was completely serious.

“Wha- friends? What the hell are you on about? There are no friends here, that's an idiot's dream.”

But Keigo only shrugged, “Well, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

You stared back at him, a look of pure disbelief written on your face.

Was he insane? Having friends here was almost imposible. The commission made sure of that, pitting you two against eachother, comparing you to one another, they made it so you would fight amongst yourselves.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

But he just shrugged, “Because I'm curious about you, and that crousity makes me want to befriend you.”

You stilled, thinking and thinking till your brain hurts.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now, I know I probably caught you off guard, and if you don’t want to, I understand… I think-I think I’m just lonely.”

You pursed your lips, still thinking it over in your mind before you grabbed his hand.

“Look, I’ll think about it, but first, let's get this race over with.”

Keigo smiled, blushing a bit as you two took off, hoping you two would becoming good friends.

. . .

And as time went on, you two did, in fact, become the best of friends.

By the time you were both teens, you and Keigo (or Hawks as his hero name) became the commissions pride and joy.

Although you were always so surprised that they didn’t want to through you out, Keigo was so much better than you, and you had fallen much behind him.

Keigo was faster, smarter and stronger, you knew that, you knew that all to well.

But, the commission never removed you, you continued to train to become a hero, right besides Keigo. A part of you wondered if maybe you were only kept on because of Keigo, maybe the commission saw how close you two were, watching how much you mattered to him, and maybe they thought they could use you to their advantage.

The thought made you shiver, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t impossible, and more than likely.

One night, as you and Keigo lay under the stars on the roof of the commission's building, watching the night sky above.

Suddenly, Hawks turned to you, “Hey Y/N,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

You nodded your head, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you....do you want to become a hero with me?”

You smiled, “Isn't that the whole reason we’re here? To become heroes?”

But Keigo just shook his head, “No I mean...what do you want to do? With your life?”

You took a pause, you’ve never really thought about it all that much. What did you want to do with your life? You’ve always just done what others have told you to do, always choosing to follow others rather than yourself.

You realized you had never thought about it before, never taking into consideration your feelings, you just worked to survive.

“...I don’t know.”

You hated saying it, it felt like such a childish thing to admit, especially with Keigo. Keigo, who’s figured out his life goal already. Keigo, who’s living out his dream. Keigo, who has most of his life planned out.

“I mean- I guess I’m not used to choosing for myself, you know? I’m not sure how to go about… figuring out my life without someone telling me how to live it first.”

But Keigo just nodded, “No, that makes sense, I mean, you’ve lived here most of your life, you’ve worked to become a hero, but that's really only because you were taught to be one. It’s ok to not know what you want out of life, and don’t worry, I’ll be here to support you, Y/N.”

Keigo turned to you, a smile plastered on his face.

That beautiful, amazing, breathtaking smile.

You felt your face become flushed, and you sat up quickly so as to not have Keigo notice.

“Yeah well- thanks,” you said softly.

But Keigo just laughed, “Don’t worry about it dove.”

. . .

Years later, and Hawks had become the number two pro hero. And you hadn’t done too badly yourself, coming in at the number eleventh spot.

You didn’t mind being behind Hawks, in fact, you found yourself becoming a bit proud of yourself because of how far you had made it.

Right now, you were busy on portal, watching citizens go about their day on a rooftop above.

You watched closely, wondering what kind of life you could have been living if you had never chosen to be a hero, wondering if you too, would have been walking on that very same street as some other hero observed you from afar.

Somedays you found yourself wondering if the hero commission hadn’t taken you away, had let you lived your life for yourself, what would you do? Who would you become?

You wondered if you would have met Keigo as well, or if that would only work if you had been with the hero commission.

Maybe in that universe, you two could finally be together.

It happened a while ago, when you figured out your true feelings for Hawks. Although, maybe you always had feelings for him, since you were little kids. But, you had feelings for him had began to bubble over, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, wanted to keep him to yourself. But you would never act on these feelings, you knew better.

Keigo Takami would never be yours, not in a million years.

You let out a sigh, just as you heard boots hit the ground behind you.

“Miss me,” a familiar voice asked.

Even though you had known Hawks since you two were kids, you were always caught off guard by those dazzling eyes, the honey gold color swirling around as he stared down at you, pinning you to your spot on the roof.

You smiled, “Hawks, I just saw you.”

He shrugged, “So? I still missed you in that time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you come here to bother me or do you actually have a reason to be here?”

His hands flew to his chest, dramatically saying, “Oh angel, how you wound my poor heart.”

You giggled, “Aw Hawks, always the flare for the dramatic.”

He smiled, but then his eyes got serious, “But I do need your help with something, a mission not too far from here.”

Watching Hawks in action was like watching an artist at work, he was careful, skillful, even downright majestic. He took care in his work, he worked quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

And, not to sound too cocky, you two made a pretty good team. And considering you two were very close friends, you vehemently enjoyed working with him.

Although, maybe it was cuz you also had a little bit of a crush on him.

Your face felt flushed at the thought, but before you could think your mouth had already said yes.

“Oh? Are you just agreeing so you can spend time with me, little dove,” Hawks smiled teasingly.

He had a habit of doing this, it was a little game he would play on you. teasing was so fun for him, but he didn’t realize how it gave you such butterflies.

Luckily though, although you did have feelings for him, you learned how to push them away for situations like this.

You scoffed, “Hawks, would you just give me the rundown. Or do I have to call the commission myself?”

He put his hands up, “Wow there chicky, no need to get antsy, I’ll explain everything, ok?”

He told you about the mission, nothing to fancy, in fact, it was quite easy.

Some of his sidekicks had noticed some suspicious activity near a specific location near U.A that the commission wanted to be checked out. They had said that they didn’t want another attack to happen yet again to the school.

On the outside, it might have seemed like the commission gave a shit about the kids in U.A, but you knew better. They just wanted to look good, and right now, this was the best way to do that.

“So basically, if we do see any suspicious activity, we’re allowed to bring anyone in there for questioning, and if worst comes to worst, we have orders to use force.”

You nodded, sounded just like a normal mission for the two of you, should be no p.

“Alright,” you said, “Sounds easy enough. Should we head over now? How will I get there?”

But Hawks seemed to be one step ahead of you.

He held out his hand, a smirk plastered on his dazzling face, “Just hold on to me, sweetheart.”

. . .

You’ve flown with Hawks before, considering how close you two were it was understandable that he would have offered a number of times.

But still, it Always made you so giddy.

The way he held you, so secure in his arms, his face inches away from you. And that gleam in his eyes, it always felt like it was only you and him in that moment, only you two in the entire sky. And each time, it made your heart shudder.

“You ok there, dove,” Hawks asked in your ear.

You jumped a little, surprised by his words. You realized you had begun spacing out while looking directly at him.

You composed yourself, “Just keep flyin’ bird brain. I’m just thinking.”

You could almost feel his smirk, “Thinking? Thinking of what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drop it Hawks.”

“Oh,” he said, his tone mischievous, “just like I can drop you?”

Just then, you felt Hawks serve mid-air.

“KEIGO,” you shouted, not even thinking.

But Hawks had regained his hold on you, the prank only lasting for a second.

He laughed, his chest shaking, “You should have seen your face, Chicky! Ha! That was funny!”

But you would disagree, “I swear to God, Hawks, I’ll punch you when we land.”

But you thought for a second, “Sorry I called you your name...so loud.”

Keigo didn’t really like his name, opting to be called ‘Hawks’ instead.

But you knew why he preferred his new name instead. Because of his past.

Keigo was a kid left in the dirt, left and discarded, a remnant of a past that wasn’t so pleasant. You knew that thinking about it only brought pain to him, and saying his name out loud would only remind him of a past he would rather soon forget.

And the name ‘Hawks’ had marked the beginning of a new life for him. It was a way for him to move on past that old life, a way for him to become the best version of himself.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s ok… I don’t think anyone heard,” Hawks said.

His grip on you seemed to be tighter, more secure.

“And also, you know I would never drop you, right? I could never hurt you, ever.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s so cheesy. Just don’t drop me and it’s fine.”

. . .

The place wasn’t too bad.

It was an old supply garage, there were about four people from what you could see.

It was definitely near U.A, you could see a clear view to the school, although it was far, it definitely had a vantage point. You could see why this could be a problem, and your brain hurt thinking about what villainous thing they could be planning.

You could hear the guy closest to you, it was a bit hard but you honed your ears.

“So, you all have everything,” a man asked in a scratchy rough voice.

“Yeah,” one of the others said, “everything's here, make sure to give it to Shigaraki with our gratitude.”

You looked over at Hawks, but his eyes were trained on the villains, his black pupils sharpening and watching their every move, before he nodded, signaling to move out.

And then, everything happened in a flash.

Hawks, as always, moved fast and quick, and you come up behind him.

Hawks grabbed one of the men, and held back the other two with his feathers, leaving only you and the two others.

You pulled out your handy metal staff, preparing yourself to bend it to your will.

But you never got the chance.

One of the men smirked a gun in his hand. The other behind him, activating what looked like an ice quirk.

And before you could think, you felt your feet being Frozen down to the hard metal floor of the garage.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

you tried your best to wiggle your way out of it, but you saw no way to free yourself from your icey binds.

Luckily, with your fast thinking, you grabbed the metal staff, shaping it to hit one of the men square in the jaw, making him drop his weapon.

the other one was taken aback, a perfect opening for your staff to hit him in the face.

But your feet were still frozen to the floor, and a few whacks to the felons was not going to be enough to take them down.

You racked your brain, Hawks was too far away, and there was no way you could get out of the ice on your own.

You brought your metal stuff back, using it to break the ice on your feet. Just as the men were getting back up.

You ran over, preparing to hit one of the men right in the face, a blow big enough to knock them out.

But you never got the chance.

The other man tackled you to the floor, your back hitting the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you, little hero.”

You looked over at Keigo, but there was no use. He was too busy fighting his own battle, and you knew it wasn't fair to rely on him.

So, with all your strength you pushed the man off. Using the metal floor to help you.

Just then, an idea occurred to you. It was risky, but it could work.

You knew that Keigo was far enough for it to work, it wouldn’t hurt him, but the only problem was it wouldn’t trap the two villains he was fighting.

But, considering he was the number two hero, you knew he would be just fine. You trusted him in that.

The ground beneath you is made of metal, you could feel it beneath your feet. You could also feel the two men running towards you.

You dodged their initial attacks, but you knew that they would soon overpower you. You also knew that you couldn't kill them, but you could hurt them.

So your best bet was to trap them, and yourself, before backup came.

You hit your palm against the floor, willing it to your mind. It was a long stretch, and you could feel the strain on your body. The toll that it was taking was immediate, your muscles felt tired, your brain even felt foggy for a few minutes, but you kept going.

You made sure that the ground collapsed, but it wouldn't hurt anybody.

You were not expecting, however, for the ceiling to collapse along with it.

There must have been a support beam on the ground as well that you had taken down with the floor, causing the ceiling to come down.

You looked up, seeing the last moment as the ceiling collapsed on you.

. . .

Hawks hated hospitals.

The smell, the people, the pain. He hated it all, but you were the one in the hospital, so of course, he needed to come.

The days after the accident had been hard, to say the least.

Keigo just remembered watching as the rooftop collapsed, watching your bruised body go along with it.

He remembered screaming your name too, yelling and willing all his feathers to help you, to get you out.

He remembered his heart racing and beating so hard in his chest, he remembered his eyes, tears swelling up as his breath ran ragged.

He didn’t even care about the villains, he had caught the two he had been fighting already, but he didn’t care. He needed to get you out, he needed to make sure you were ok.

After digging for what felt like an eternity, there you were, bruised and bloody. But you were breathing, and he held you close, his tears dripping over your cheeks.

He felt his heartbreak, he couldn't stand the sight of you being hurt, he couldn't stand the thought that he had something to do with it.

He wanted you to wake up, he wanted you to wake up so badly it hurt. For you to look up, and teased him about crying. He wanted nothing more than to apologize over and over, for making his friend suffer, even if it was unintentional.

He knew he could never forgive himself, and he knew he could never make it up to you.

Keigo knew you were in bad shape, so he called the ambulance to take you to the hospital. He was there with you the whole way, watching you, helping in any way he could.

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, watching as your fragile body was rolled away to the special care unit of the hospital, as the doctors told him he couldn’t come in with you.

“Mr. Hawks,” a voice said in front of him.

He flinched.

Hawks wasn’t someone who was easily startled, seeing as he had years of training, but his mind was so all over the place. Worrying and wondering if you were ok, hoping and praying to god everything would be ok.

He couldn’t lose you, and he realized that only now.

If he lost you, how would he even be able to function? You were everything to him, his friend (if he was being truthful, his only true friend) , his rock, the person he could trust for support and help.

To be honest, if he lived in a world without you, he really wouldn’t know what to do…

“Sir?”

He snapped back to reality, his eyes looking up at the doctors.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I think I’m just a bit off my game today, you’ll have to excuse my behavior. But what were you saying, sir?”

“Well, L/N Y/N has sustained some pretty severe injuries, such as bruising of the sides and hips, and a broken leg,” Hawks sucked in a breath, “We know how to treat it, of course, but Y/N will need much recovery time. That being said, Y/N seems to not have any family or emergency contacts but you. If it’s ok with you, would you be willing to visit as well as look over Y/N in the recovery period?”

Hawks quickly agreed, “Anything doctor, anything you need or Y/N needs...anything at all.”

The doctor smiled at him, “Thank you, Mr. Hawks, unfortunately though, Y/N needs a bit more time alone, but when we deem it ok, you can come back for a visit.”

Hawks felt his shoulders slump, he knew it was selfish, but he had hoped to see you again, to apologize for putting you in that piston, he felt horrible.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that at all, it was supposed to be a swift and easy fight. It was really just supposed to be the four guys with easy quirks, and they were all supposed to be an easy fight.

Hawks had learned about the hideout in front of U.A a while ago, when he learned it was also a part of the ledge, he went right to Dabi.

“Are you insane,” he had said, “someone will catch you, and personally, I can’t stand by and let you attack those kids.”

“Oh?” Dabi smirked, “And how will you stop us? You’re a part of the league now, bird boy, and we need this lookout, so just shut up already.”

Keigo huffed, “I can’t let you do that, that’s right by my portal area, my bosses will get suspicious, and I look bad enough as it is. I haven’t brought anyone from the league in, soon someone will put two-in-two together.”

It was a lie of course, his bosses knew exactly why he couldn't bring in anyone from the league, they had assigned the mission after all.

But the problem didn't lie with his bosses, it lay with the other Heroes and the public eye. The other hero’s had started to whisper to each other, wondering why the Hawks hadn’t brought in anyone from the notorious League of villains yet. He heard their whispers, and it made him uneasy. He knew if he didn't act soon, they would just grow more and more suspicious. As for the public eye, he couldn't let his image slide, he had to figure out a solution, and this would be the perfect way to do so.

Dabi pondered the idea, toying with Hawks’ growing anticipation, like a cat pawing at a helpless bird.

“Alright, I suppose we can make that work.”

And so, a plan was formed.

Keigo was to swiftly take the four men in for questioning. Dabi had arranged for it so all vital information was to be learned from the lookouts, and then Hawks could swoop in and go in fighting. The other four men would have no idea what was going on, so it looked like the real deal.

They had set up specific times and dates to make sure they would take the men and the lookout down, that way the league wouldn’t lose any vital information.

“I’ll tell you when, don’t start till I tell you,” Dabi had said, “or else there will be problems.”

And Hawks had done as he was told, he waited for Dabi to give him the all-clear, and went in.

But you getting hurt was never a part of the plan.

Keigo felt guilt clawing at his chest. How did he get like this? He was supposed to be the one to protect you, to make sure that you were always okay.

But it seemed like he was the one who got you hurt.

His guilt was suddenly replaced by anger, it made him ball his fist.

Those men were supposed to be easy to take down, they were supposed to be simple to deal with, but even Keigo had difficulty defeating them all on his own.

This was an error on his part, he knew that, but he also couldn’t help but simultaneously blame Dabi as well.

It was his fault that he hadn’t warned Keigo about the strength of the men.

Keigo was going to make him pay….

. . .

Dabi’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, Keigo’s angry eyes boring into him.

“I should kill you right here, right now.”

Dabi laughed, “Look, it wasn’t my fault your little partner couldn’t handle a few guys, ain't they supposed to be a hero? Shouldn’t they be able to help themselves?”

Dabi’s twisted smile made Keigo see red.

“I swear Dabi-”

“The league will come after you, you know that.”

Keigo felt his hands shake with rage, his fingers wrinkling Dabis' shirt.

“What were they to you? You seem pretty upset there, birdy. Maybe….your lover?”

A feather sharpened at Dabi’s neck, Keigo’s fury never leaving his body.

“Say one more goddamn word and I swear to god I'll kill you.”

“Look,” Dabi said, “I didn't know how strong those guys were, I thought that you'd be able to take ‘em down pretty easily. But I guess we just gave ‘em more training than I thought. That's all. Nothing I could have done about it, and nothing you could have done about it. You should know that stuff like this is inevitable, shit is bound to go wrong.”

Keigo released him, his eyes still boring into Dabi’s.

“If I figure out you had some sort of part in this-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kill me. I get it.”

Keigo stormed off, walking away from Dabi.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone, anyone, he just wanted someone to blame, someone to feel the way he felt.

The fact that you were in pain only made it worse.

What was he to do now? He couldn’t go home, he would only be able to think about you, only be able to think about your laugh, your eyes, your lips….

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of something like that? And at a time like this? You were...his friend.

But that thought made his heart sink. Like that thought had filled him with dread.

He sighed, shaking his head, this wasn’t about him, it was about you, it was about helping you. Not thinking about his feelings. Or lack thereof.

He felt his phone ring in his back pocket, just before he was leaving.

Looking at the number, he realized it was the doctor's office that was calling.

Without even thinking he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Hawks, we just wanted to ask if you would want to come in and see the patient L/N Y/N, they have woken up. So if you would like to see them-”

“Yes!” Keigo said, a bit too excitedly, “Sorry- about the interruption- but yes I would like to see them.”

“Alright Mr. Hawks, please come whenever you can, they’ve been asking for you.”

. . .

Hawks had never flown so fast, rushing so fast in order to see you, needed to see you.

When he finally got there, he rushed in, finding the receptionist to find your room.

“They’re in room 236 sir-”

But he cut her off, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Ok, thank you so much.”

Finding your room was easy, and yet, he found himself outside your room, dreading to go in.

How could he face you? How could he apologize? How could he look you in the eye, see what happened to you, and be able to talk to you.

He ran a hand down his face, why was this so hard? He’s taken down many many villains before, and he had never felt as anxious as he did now?

“...Hawks?”

He jumped, he actually jumped.

There you were, standing, only a few inches away from his face, his eyes widened and he could feel his whole body becoming hot.

Why did he suddenly become like this around you? His heart felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt strange.

But your face, it looked so stunning, that for a moment he couldn’t feel his lungs.

“Are you...ok?” He was surprised that his voice finally managed to work.

You blinked, “Yeah, I’m ok. What about you, though? Your face is all red. Do have a fever or something? I can call a doctor.”

“No no,” he sighed, “just...feeling weird I suppose.”

He felt the redness travel from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, “I-I’m fine, really, don't worry about me, I'm actually here to see you.”

You smiled, gazing up at him, “Aww, you can see lil’ old me? How thoughtful.”

You both walked into your room, and Hawks watched as you lay down on the bed.

The hospital room was nothing special, a state-of-the-art hospital room, similar to one's that Hawks had been in many times. Being a hero always came with getting hurt, but seeing you in this condition, made his heart squeeze.

if he could, he would go back in time and figure out a way so that he could be in this situation, not you. You didn't deserve it, you have done nothing but help him, and this is how he repaid you? He felt sick with guilt.

“Hawks?” You said.

He snapped up, like coming back from a bad dream.

But you just laughed your sweet, kind laugh.

Hawks wanted to hear it again, one more time he wanted to hear you laugh like that, it made him feel like everything was drifting away from him like it was just you and him in this entire world.

“You’re totally out of it! What’s gotten into you,” You said, a smile still plastered on your face.

“Sorry, just thinkin’.”

“Yeah well you must be thinking a little too hard there, are you okay? Do you want to sit down? Something's obviously bothering you, you can tell me.”

but hawks just side, “I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

But you just smiled up at him, “Hawks, nothing in this world could make me upset with you.”

And so he told you, about the league, about the secrets he's been hiding from you. It felt good, it felt good to finally confide in someone, it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he felt at ease, talking to you like you were the only person who would ever understand. And you probably were.

You listened to him, you listened as he told you about what happened, about how sorry he felt, you didn't blame him for what happened, You just listened. You listened and listened and listened.

So when he finally finished, he was scared of what you would say.

“...I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Hawks you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked up at you, “B-but I got you hurt-”

“That’s not your fault though, you had a mission to follow.”

“But I should have never involved you.”

“I'm glad you did, it could have been you that would have gotten hurt,” you said, smiling.

But he just tsked, “It would have been better if it was me, I can’t stand to see you like this, you know.”

Your hands went to his cheeks, bringing his face closer, “And I wouldn’t be able to see you like this either, I would have blamed myself. I’m glad I came with you, even if it meant I got hurt in the process. I care about you, Hawks.”

Keigo couldn’t breathe, you were so close, your lips an inch away.

“Keigo.”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I want you to call me Keigo when we’re alone from now on, I...I like when you say it.”

You paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing, “Where did this come from?”

His face went red, “I-I don’t know, just kinda been thinking about it I guess.”

You giggled a bit before saying, “Ok, I mean, if that’s what you want. Y’know, you’ve been acting strange Haw-Keigo,” you corrected, “are you sure everything's ok?”

There it was again, the pitter-batter in his heart, the nervousness in his stomach.

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t know how he would even categorize the way he was feeling, he couldn't explain it to himself, much less to you.

“I’m fine, just...overwhelmed I guess.”

He shook his head, “But I should be asking how you are, you're the one in the hospital, not me. Stop worrying, how are you, how are you feeling? What do you need me to do? I'll be here to help you, no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, “Eventually you’ll have to go home, and I’m totally fine, Keigo.”

By the mention of his name, he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze.

“R-right, well, can I just..stay here. With you? Till you get better?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

. . .

While you were in the hospital, Keigo stayed by your side. He never left you, he cared for you, watched over for you, and was so understanding.

It only made your feelings for him deeper, and you were loath to admit that you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed watching him fawn over you, knowing that he was close to you. You two would talk for hours, about anything, and you loved it. You loved feeling him near you, watching his eyes soften and the stupid silly quirk of his smile. You felt warm inside, you felt so at peace with him at your side.

You knew it was selfish, but you couldn't help loving how long you were spending with him.

But, it all came to an end, and you had to go home.

To your surprise, Keigo offered you to stay with him for a little bit.

Just till you get back on your feet,” he said.

Your heart leaped at the opportunity, sharing a house with the guy you had a crush on for years? It felt like you were a lovesick teenager again. Although, you would always be lovesick when it came to Keigo.

At Keigo’s house, he was nothing but polite to you. Although, a bit too polite.

For all his flirting, for all his suave charm, he was never really like that with you. He was just normal, keeping to himself in the house, but always being able to hang out with you or do anything with you if you wanted.

And yet, you could feel the nervousness oozing off of him, like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

Like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out.

It, intern, made you just as nervous.

Were you being a nuisance? Did you say something to upset him? A million thoughts running through your head, and you are worried about all of them.

The last thing that you would ever want to do would be to upset Keigo, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Maybe he felt bad about the accident?

You sucked in a breath, that had to be it. He felt bad, and therefore, was nervous around you.

You have to confront him, you thought, you had to clear the air so you would both feel better.

You decided to wait till tomorrow morning, not wanting to scare or embarrass him well you could tell he was so nervous.

. . .

“Keigo,” you said, a waver in your voice showing how nervous you were.

“Hm?” Keigo looked up from his phone, his honey-colored irises landing on you, only serving to make you more anxious.

You took a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you about something. and it's pretty important, so I'd appreciate it if you could listen till the end.”

Keigo sat up, “What, am I in trouble or something?” He said in a teasing, yet nervous way.

“No,” you sighed, “But I just really need to talk to you about something.”

You took one moment more to collect yourself before speaking, “We've known each other for a long time, we've known each other since we were little kids when we were both put into the commission's program and since we were both made heroes. So you should know, that I know when you're upset.”

You saw Keigo twitch in his chair, but you continued.

“You've been nervous ever since the hospital, maybe even nervous in the hospital. And I don't know what's going on with you. I... I don't know if it was something that I did, or if it was something that happened, but I'm here for you. And I don't like it that you keep this a secret from me. I consider you to be one of my best friends, and I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I'll still always love you. Nothing will ever change that,” a smile pulled at your lips as you said your last sentence.

It was silent for a few moments, the air between you too felt heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Keigo spoke, “Y/N, I want to tell you something, but... I'm not sure how you’ll react.”

You tried to speak up again, but Keigo cut you off.

“I know that you're going to say that nothing can ever come between us, and I do believe you. But... something came up and I just don't know how to deal with it. You mean so much to me, and losing your friendship is my worst nightmare. And I guess…. I just got so scared of losing you that I just didn't think about anything else. I'm sorry.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion, “Keigo, I’m not sure what you mean? What are you talking about? What came up?”

But Keigo just sighed, “Y/n I...I think I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart stop, your eyes widened as your brain was racing.

What did you say? No... that couldn't be right.

Keigo Takami could not be in love with you, he just wouldn't. You had accepted that a long time ago, you knew that he would never have the same feelings that you had for him. You knew that, so what was going on?

“I...I’m sorry?”

Keigo’s face turned a bright shade of pink, “I-I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, I know it must be a lot to take in, if you’re uncomfortable being here with me feel free to leave. I completely understand-”

But your lips stopped his words, your body pressed firmly to his.

He was started by the kiss at first, but soon, his body and mind became muddled, hands wrapped around your waist as he tasted your lips. It felt intoxicating.

Before you knew it, your hips were straddling him, keeping him locked in his chair. But Keigo wasn’t complaining.

Your lips tangled with one another as moans escaped both of you, your hands unable to leave each other's bodies.

Your hands traveled down his chest, even ripping open the button-down he was wearing, showing his abs and rippling muscles.

“Y/N..” Keigo said, his voice hoarse.

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, slanted, and staring you down. But they had a softness to them, one that made your heart flutter.

“Keigo… god you have no idea how much I love you,” you said.

If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Keigo smirked, “‘s that so babe? Well, I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

His lips attached to the column of your throat, kissing and nipping lightly at the skin. His hands roaming up and down your body made you feel as though you were on fire. His calloused hands stroked your back, making you arch into him.

“K-Keigo,” you moaned.

But he just hummed into your skin, his brain turning to mush, only able to think about how much pleasure he could give you, how much love he wanted to show you.

“Keigo, I love you,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Keigo groaned, still occupied with your neck, but pulled his lips away in order to say; “I’m glad,” and smiled at you.

You returned his smile before your lips found his again.

It would be a very long night.

[mirohlixie]

Maths Tutor (Lee Felix)

Student! Lee Felix x Tutor! Reader (gender-neutral) Genre: Smut, College AU Words: 2,6k Summary: An innocent study session between peers turns into something much more exciting when unexpected feelings make an appearance

Content Warnings: Humiliation, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Spanking, Pegging, Sub! Felix x Dom! Reader

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“Y/N I still don’t understand,” Felix whined as he stared at the page in his book. Y/N had been tutoring him in maths in their dorm for over an hour now, but somehow he didn’t seem to understand the basics concepts of this semester’s topics. The exam was in about a week, but he was far from getting a good grade, the way it looked right now. Y/N sighed and turned the page to see if the next topic would be easier, but unfortunately, it was only an expansion on the former topic.

“I’m sorry Felix, I wish there was something I could do to make you understand it within minutes, but it’s going to take time,” they sighed as they played with the pen in their hands, gathering the motivation to keep tutoring the poor boy. He had recently transferred to Y/N’s college from another campus and maths wasn’t the only course he was behind in. He tried so hard, but this college was way more prestigious than the one he’d transferred from, hence the higher standards for each course.

“We don’t have time,” Felix sighed. “We don’t even have time for a small break if I want to pass this course. If I want a good grade, I’ll have to study non-stop for the next week and that is just impossible,” he shoved his notebook away from himself and rested his head on his hands. Y/N couldn’t help but think he looked adorable with his lips in this slight pout.

Lee Felix was a pretty boy, there was no doubt about that. His little freckles, his puppy dog eyes, his always perfectly groomed hair… Yeah, there was definitely something about your peer that made him very attractive to the eye. Almost like an elf.

When Felix looked up, he noticed they were staring and started blushing, quickly averting his gaze. Y/N did the same, feeling a little embarrassed.

“We are going to try our best, Felix,” Y/N said, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at it in slight shock and bit his lip, his cheeks once again heating up. It surprised them, as they hadn’t expected such a simple gesture to have this effect on him. However, they weren’t complaining at all.

Y/N stroked his arm slowly, trying to calm him down a little. They felt goosebumps appear under their touch and when they looked up, they saw him shuffle slightly in his seat. Y/N bit back a smirk, enjoying how such a simple touch could make the cute boy react like this.

“Okay, how about we try this problem and then have a little break after?” Y/N proposed, withdrawing their hand, hearing him sigh audibly. They couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or relief. Felix nodded quickly, grabbing a pen and starting to scribble down notes, trying to hide his own embarrassment. As he was writing, a mischievous plan popped up in Y/N’s head. What would happen if they teased him? Would he react even more than he just did? Would he say anything? Y/N bit their lip, placing their hand on his thigh as they pointed at one of the things he’d written down.

“This isn’t completely correct,” they explained, feeling his leg tense under their touch. Felix’s breath audibly picked up as he tried to focus on the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. However, he was clearly having a really hard time.

Y/N couldn’t help but smirk as they inched their hand closer to the little boy’s inner thigh, rubbing slow circles with their thumb. They kept creeping closer and closer to the poor boy’s crotch, which was noticeably getting harder with every touch. This continued for a couple of seconds before a sudden, whiny sound escaped from Felix’s lips. He looked up in surprise and embarrassment, quickly hiding his face in his arms as he shuffled away from your touch.

“Fuck, I-“ he trailed for a second. “I’m sorry Y/N. This is fucking embarrassing,” he said, his voice an octave higher than it was minutes before. They couldn’t help but like this change. Like the effect they had on this pretty boy.

“Felix,” Y/N whispered, inching their face closer to Felix’s neck before gently kissing the delicate skin there. “Don’t be embarrassed please,” another quiet whiny noise left the boy’s lips.

“W-why?” He whimpered, unwillingly tilting his head to give Y/N more access. The usually seemingly tough guy had done a one-eighty and had turned into a subby baby under his tutor’s touch. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it; they had this effect on him and he didn’t know how to get rid of it.

“Because I think it is time for that break now,” Y/N said, turning Felix’s face towards themself before kissing his sweet lips gently. The poor boy breathed out in relief and kissed them back with the delicacy of a little baby. That was the true Lee Felix: a little baby who was helpless and needed a mommy or daddy to take care of him.

Luckily for him, this attitude awoke a side of Y/N they hadn’t seen much before. Suddenly they wanted nothing more than to be called mommy by the pretty boy.

Y/N gently tugged on Felix’s bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from the whiny boy. His hands found their way to Y/N’s waist and pulled them closer, desperate for more. They pulled back and started kissing down his jaw, making sure to leave small marks as they kept moving down to his neck.

“Y/N,” Felix stuttered, briefly withdrawing from the touch. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” they answered, lowering their voice to emit more power. “Baby boy needs a little help it seems,” Y/N glanced down at the poor boy’s crotch, where his dick was now prominently bulging. Felix blushed at the pet name and hesitantly nodded.

“Do need help,” he admitted. “But… Are you really...” He bit his lip and they already knew what he had been about to ask them. They nodded briefly.

“Dumb baby needs mommy to help him with his problem, doesn’t he?” Y/N continued as they moved down their hand to stroke the boy’s clothed member. Felix shuddered again, trying to stifle a moan caused by the sudden touch. Y/N could see he wanted to protest against the role he was being placed in, but he couldn’t. He was a dumb baby and he did need help. Hell, that was all he wanted and needed at this moment. His subby side had made a full appearance and there was no more use trying to hide it.

“Please?” He pleaded Y/N. “Please help me, mommy?” That was all Y/N needed to spring into action. They gently pushed the boy down on the carpet, unbuckling his dress trousers before pulling them down with his boxers. His cock sprang up happily and fully erect. Damn, he had really been as needy as you thought he was, and all of that just because of light touches.

“Mommy will help you, little one,” Y/N whispered in a seductive voice. “Relax and do not worry about that,” they slowly stroked the little angel’s cock and watched how his face contorted in adorable emotions; shock, pleasure, and lust. The poor baby wasn’t used to being treated this way but he wasn’t complaining at all.

His hips bucked lightly and Y/N pushed them back down before licking up his shaft, making sure to gather all the precum oozing out of his tip on their tongue before giving him a soft kiss, making him taste himself.

“Taste that, baby boy?” They asked him with a soothing voice. Can you taste how needy you are for mommy?” Felix nodded eagerly as he licked his lips. He watched as their lips connected with his sensitive, swollen tip. He needed more. He needed to feel his mommy around him.

“M-more!” He whined, attempting to buck his hips again. Y/N chuckled quietly as they bit their lip.

“Patience, little one. Mommy will only help you if you’re a good boy,” Felix stayed quiet this time as he nodded. He was going to be a good boy. This was a sign for Y/N to suddenly wrap their mouth around the doll’s cock, making him throb when their tongue connected with the sensitive skin and swirled around his length. A moan escaped his lips when Y/N started bobbing their head, making sure to run their tongue over his tip as they used their other hand to play with his balls.

Felix had never had a blowjob like this and he was seeing stars. He wriggled under his mommy as they were sucking him off hard, knowing that he wasn’t going to last long purely because of the suddenness of it all. Y/N sped up, making the little one twitch in their mouth.

“Close!” He cried out. “I-I’m so close!” Y/N looked up at him and made eye contact before hollowing their cheeks, making sure to suck him off good as he whimpered and arched his back, spilling his hot cum down their throat. They swallowed it before pulling off, licking their lips.

“You taste amazing angel,” they said, smiling endearingly as the poor boy panted. Felix wiped some sweat off his forehead, looking at Y/N with a blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he mused. “Do you…” He stalled, looking away, suddenly really aware of the situation. “Never mind, I’m sorry.”

“What is it, baby boy,” they whispered, drawing figures over his stomach with their nails. Such a simple touch, yet it managed to make his cock spring up excitedly once again, making Felix blush even more.

“Can you… Would you…” He was clearly too embarrassed to finish the sentence, yet could not seem to let go of the idea. “Please?”

“Can I what?” Y/N asked, teasing the poor boy a little. They knew exactly what he wanted, but they needed the words to roll off his lips first. If he wanted something, he needed to ask for it.

“Fuck me, please?” His voice suddenly whinier than before, which was clearly unintended. He buried his face in his hands once again as his body flushed with embarrassment. “C-can you please fuck me, mommy?” Y/N smirked, getting up from the floor before undressing. Felix’s eyes widened when he saw the figure in front of him, his cock twitching happily.

“Like what you see, princess?” They asked him, eliciting an eager nod.

“You’re so pretty mommy,” he praised, making them feel good about themselves as they reached for the bottom drawer, pulling out a strap-on and a bottle of lube. Felix audibly gasped, clearly not expecting to be literally fucked. Nobody had ever seen this side of Y/N and the cute twink would be the first to do so. However, he did not seem reluctant at all. Even better, he was more aroused than ever before, if that was even possible. His hips bucked involuntarily as he watched his mommy install the strap on before covering it in lube.

“Shirt off,” Y/N demanded with a dominating voice, making the poor boy shudder and quickly do as he was told.

“Good boy,” they praised him, earning another blush. They hovered over Felix, kissing their neck and collar bones before moving down to his chest, leaving hickeys all over. “You’re mine, got it?” They growled, nibbling on his skin as he whimpered and nodded. “Everyone can know and see that this baby boy belongs to his mommy and to nobody else.”

“Nobody else,” Felix mused, shaking at the feeling of the strap-on rubbing against his own cock. He grew needier and needier with the second and the thought of being filled up excited him more than anything could. “Please mommy, I need you,” his voice merely a shiver.

“Beg for it,” Y/N’s voice boomed.

“Please mommy! Fill me up. Use me and ruin me. I am just a dumb baby. A toy that you can use however you want,” he begged. “Please, just… Please just fuck me!” Y/N flipped him over, deciding he had been marked enough. His cheek was pressed against the carpet and his ass was sticking up. They slapped it with a lot of force, leaving a clear red mark in the form of their hand. Felix gasped, stifling a moan. He felt another hand come down on his delicate ass and could not keep his moans in this time. Y/N was satisfied with the effect they had on him and teased his hole with the strap-on.

Felix once again turned into a whiny baby, trying to press his ass against the toy to stop the teasing.

“Patience,” Y/N’s voice boomed once again, making the poor baby shudder.

“Yes, mommy. I’m sorry mommy,” he whispered. They were satisfied with this apology and saw it as a sign to unexpectedly push themselves into the baby’s tight hole. He screamed out in pleasure as he felt the toy stretch him out, pressing his cheek against the carpet more.

“Yes, oh fuck. M-mommy that feels s-so good,” he stuttered, enjoying the sting of his tight hole being stretched out. Y/N started thrusting the toy in with their hips, making sure to go slow at first to let the whiny boy adjust to the size of it.

Felix’s moans grew louder and louder the more they sped up. They pulled out all the way and slammed back in hard, hitting his prostate with much force. He screamed out and clawed his nails into the carpet, pressing himself against the toy more.

“Right there mommy! Please ruin me, please,” he whimpered. Tears of pleasure and pain streamed down his cheeks as Y/N kept slamming in hard, pushing his hips down to the carpet as they rolled their hips fast. Felix’s cock rubbed against the floor, making him tremble even more than before because of the sudden friction. As the toy kept hitting against his sweet spot, Felix felt his orgasm approaching fast. He clenched around the toy and shook, overwhelmed by all the pleasure he was feeling. Feeling like he was brought onto cloud nine by this sensation.

“I can’t- Close I cannot-” he stuttered out, no longer able to form full sentences. However, Y/N knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Cum for me doll,” they said. “Make a mess out of your pretty body and cum for mommy,” Felix didn’t need to be told twice before he started to twitch all over, cumming hard over himself and the floor as he cried out. Y/N was certain the entire floor of the building could hear his profanities, but they couldn’t care less. Felix was having the orgasm of his life and nothing mattered more to them than this subby baby feeling this good.

They eased the angel off his high before gently pulling out, plugging his filled-up hole with a sparkly butt plug that fitted the boy perfectly. Felix whimpered at the feeling, satisfied and fucked out. He collapsed on the floor completely as he panted heavily.

“Thank you mommy,” he hummed. “That was amazing,” Y/N smiled happily and proudly before carefully helping him onto their bed. They took off the strap-on and cuddled up with the flushed and sweaty baby boy. He curled into their chest, smiling a little as he nervously looked down.

“I didn’t know you were such a subby baby,” they cooed, earning a soft giggle from the boy.

“I’m not always,” he said. “Just… You brought it out in me…”

“Maybe I should do that more often then, little one,” they tickled his tummy and he giggled more.

“I wouldn’t complain,” he admitted as they drew figures on his arm with their fingers.

“Good, because I wouldn’t either,” Y/N said before kissing his forehead. “You’re a cutie, Felix.”

“You cutie now,” he said, smiling softly.

“Mine,” they agreed. “Only mine.”

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[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Relax - Fred Weasley (smut)

Summary: Fred is very stressed, but you have an idea to help him with that problem ;)

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!!!, oral (male receiving), tittie-fucking, cursing, praising

Words: 1,3k

I opened the door of our apartment with a big sigh. Finally, home.

The joke shop really stressed me out. March was always busy because of the first of April coming closer.

I wasn't really exhausted, it was just stress, worry.

It was a relief when I saw her laying there in our bedroom.

She must have fallen asleep accidentally because she still had her clothes on.

My heartbeat fastened for a second, seeing her laying there. It was a sight for sore eyes. Her hair spread over the pillow and her steady breath. It made me calmer.

Although I really wanted to talk to her, I didn't want to wake her up. So I strolled to the bed on my tippy toes, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I laid beside her, but my weight made the bed crack.

In a second she was already sitting up. "Oh god, did I fall asleep again?" she mumbled worryingly, still very sleepy.

"It's okay love" I assured her.

I made sure her head was on my chest and stroked her hair. She relaxed again. Y/n instinctively pulled her arm around me, pulling me closer. It made my heart flutter.

"How was your day Freddie?" she asked sleepy.

"Not that great, it's so busy, I'm terribly stressed y/n" I sighed.

She sat up, facing me again, her hand rested on my chest and the other hand held her up. She had a worried face.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that baby, but can't you take a 5 minute break sometimes?" she asked while drawing circles on my chest

"No I have no time for that, but you don't have to worry y/n, it'll get better soon" I promised her, not really knowing if it was a lie or not.

Her hand was under my shirt now, tracing a light path on the skin, from my neck to my belly. The soft strokes made me sigh, I felt my body relax a little.

"But I want to help you" she breathed with furrowed and worried eyebrows.

"I don't think you can really do something about it, dear. But thanks anyway" I smiled at her.

Suddenly she leaned down and placed soft wet kisses on my exposed skin. When she came to my nipple she gently kissed it, making me gasp.

"I think I know something to help you relax Freddie" she said in between the kisses. They lowered closer to the edge of my pants, it made my breath become heavier.

"Y/n you really don't have too-"

Before I could protest any further, she was already opening my pants.

Y/n took them off and now straddled my legs. My cock sprang free, already sensitive.

"I'll help you de-stress Freddie, you can all let it go now okay?" she promised me while massaging my thigh.

She kissed my thigh while softly stroking the other one. That girl really knew my weak spots, she could make me melt in only seconds. She always could, she knew my body like the back of her hand.

Goosebumps formed on my skin. Before I even realized, she placed a kiss on my tip while playing with my nipple, making my head already fall backwards. It just felt so damn good already, this was really what I needed after this day full of stress and she knew that.

She kitten licked my tip and a soft moan escaped my mouth. The tenderness in her touch, her soft fingertips tracing over my whole body and her sexy innocent eyes making constant eye contact. It was already too much. I was going to marry that girl one day, that's for sure.

And then she took as much as she could in her mouth, sucking and twisting her tongue while massaging my balls.

Grunts left my mouth. The sight in front of me was absolutely my favorite one. Or no it is the sight of her while riding me, while her boobs bounced up and down and those filthy moans leaving her mouth when I smack her ass.

The thought of it made me moan. I felt her tongue like silk and her puffy lips so perfectly around my cock. Waves of extreme pleasure went through my whole body

"Baby" I grunted while grabbing her hair. I tried to hold back from trusting into her mouth, making her gag, but I couldn't do it. So I lifted my hips up just a little making her suck and move faster. Moans of her name and whines of pure bliss left my mouth.

She must have felt my cock twitch, because out of the blue, she pulled back. Before that she only sucked on my tip, so I could see her beautiful lips perfectly wrapped around me, but then she let go completely.

"No no, baby please, please go on" I begged. "I really need to get rid of this stress y/n"

"I wanna try something" she replied.

I was astonished when she took her shirt off. Her red lace bra right in front of me, it made me grunt and grab her thigh, stroking it, pulling her closer. My other hand grabbed her ass making her gasp. A little giggle left her mouth and the sound almost made me blush. Gosh, the effect she had on me.

Before I knew, her bra was gone, her beautiful boobs (I loved them so much, no words to explain actually) facing me. She leaned down a little.

"W-what are you doing?" I stuttered confused.

My breath hitched in my throat when the previous pleasure returned. I looked down and saw y/n her titties, wrapped around my length.

"Fuck" I moaned loudly, still surprised.

She moved her boobs up and down, firmly wrapped around me. This was the sexiest thing ever. I just couldn't look away from the sight of her breasts wrapped around me, moving so beautifully. I knew I loved her boobs, but didn't know this could feel so amazing.

Drops of sweat formed on my forehead and heavy breaths left my mouth.

"Your such a good boy Freddie" she moaned, clearly very aroused herself, because of the sight in front of her.

The praise made me crazy, her name left my lips and my eyes scrunched shut when my head fell backwards.

"If you're going to come then look me in the eyes" she ordered.

I looked back up and I met her beautiful, doe and horny y/e/c eyes.

My mouth fell open and she started to move faster, now laying her tong flat on my tip while still using her tits.

Curse words and loud grunts flowed out of my mouth when I finally came, seeing stars.

I still tried to catch my breath and come back to earth when y/n moved back up. She stroked the hears, that were sticking on my forehead. I felt a soft kiss on my temple. The butterflies were all over my body now

"Little less stressed now, love?" she asked softly, almost whispering. She clearly didn't want me to get out of my fully relaxed state.

"Yes, you're amazing y/n, and that thing you did with your boobs, you can surely do that again in the future" I grinned jokingly.

She laid her head back on my bare chest and half of her body was laying on me.

We just laid there for a while. Listening to each others heavy breaths and heartbeats.

I really don't know what I would do without this girl. I pulled her close for another passionate kiss, to show her how much I appreciate her.

When we pulled away I felt myself already drifting away to dreamland. The feeling of her naked chest against mine felt amazing.

I stroked her hair and I heard her breathing change. She was asleep.

This was everything I needed, nothing more.

***

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[endbuzz]

Lore Preview: Corporations

Well before the explosion of technomancy in the witching world, corporate empires towered in the sky. Their power fell over people in waves, with once-in-a-lifetime opportunities plucking young people out of the gutter and bankruptcies sending them straight back. As their long fingers of influence spread across the continent and the world, fueled by the electricity of technomancy’s birth, there emerged three leading cities in the UK: London, Manchester, and Glasgow. The strong devoured the weak, until a few frontrunners found themselves sitting at the very top of the peak, whispering in the ears of politicians and throwing gold (and a quiet ruin) at any problem that might stand in their way.

Continue reading below the cut!

With Britain suddenly a home to new innovation, with new jobs emerging by the day, immigration skyrocketed. Those seeking opportunity flooded into the cities, and housing became a dire issue. With scarcity of most everything, the people living on the streets soon found themselves living off the ground, higher and higher until the sway of the buildings could be seen with the blustery winds of rainy days. Communities have sprung up all over, winding round the city like weeds choked of sunlight. 

MANCHESTER’S BIG HITTER: BLISHEN METALWORKS

They began their life right in Manchester, founded by Chistopher Blishen in 1851. The silent cofounder, Xurl, was a highly skilled goblin; when he is mentioned at all, it is said that he is nowhere in the paperwork because the laws at the time prohibited him from business ownership. From humble beginnings in repair work and watchmaking, they made enhancements and innovations that put them - and Manchester - on the map. A longstanding tradition of pocket watch gifting as a witch comes of age has been cemented by their craftsmanship, only made possible by Xurg’s lifetime of study in metal-charming. 

After Christopher’s death in 1880, Goblins were no longer welcome to apply to work with them. As one of the few businesses to welcome creatures into their ranks, it was taken as a blow to the wider community. This caused a great deal of tension in Manchester, and it wasn’t until the advent of Tickers, technomancy-infused pocket watches, that they changed this policy again. It is a tense proposition for these Goblins who work within Blishen’s walls; working in the business built on the back of their ancestors’ knowledge, many feeling it has been every bit stolen from them, it is a powderkeg.

This company is widely rumoured to spy on users of Tickers.

One of the few corporations to provide allocated housing, a towering megastructure that was stark white when it first sprang up, Blishen sees witches and Goblins living side by side. The party line is that they do so in harmony, but the reality is much more fraught.

GLASGOW’S BIG HITTER: PROTEGO INC

Though they have been around for a long time and under many names, first conceptualised by Artair McLean sometime in the 1890s, their real start wasn’t until 1920. It was well known that one could barter protective magics and wards from this business, even for a time specialising in bodyguards, but it was Grindelwald’s cut across Europe that saw business booming. 

The next witching war brought further business, and the model changed altogether. Sewing discord and damaging competition was more lucrative for them than investing in innovation, and so it was by consuming other businesses that they became the main interest in Glasgow - and across the country. 

Technomancy saw further changes to their business, with the PearlDust virus offering a great bright window of opportunity. Their work in wartime defenses is all but forgotten, traditional magical research at a near standstill, as they funnel their time and workforce into securing technomancy’s many conduits. 

This company strongly lobbies against legislation regarding technomancy and conduits.

It is telling that many of Protego Inc’s highest paid employees specialise in proprietary law. With their research departments going wildly underfunded as they cannibalise and buy out other companies left, right, and centre, their focus has shifted almost entirely to locking down the products they’ve made or obtained. It is a sad truth then that there is a trickle of skilled programmers and inventors leaving the business - with little to turn to but the many hacker collectives springing up around Glasgow. 

LONDON’S BIG HITTER: CHIRON 

The youngest of the corporations listed by far, but perhaps the most insidious and streamlined. So named for a renowned healer, established in 1965, this corporation has never strayed from their sleek centaur branding. They have a team hard at work developing new augmentations, and a fleet of technomancy healers, often called Renders, who install them.

With a lack of competition, prices have surged. This has led to a surge of unlicensed Renders, sometimes leading to unforeseen side effects or complete rejection. 

Those who take advantage of the services they offer have the choice of opting into a payment plan, with interest. These plans are subject to steep consequences, including but not limited to forceful surrender of the augmentation and loss of any equity offered. For all that people fear losing their homes and their valuables, there is nothing quite like the fear that runs cold across a person when a Collector comes knocking. The augment is claimed back with no replacement offered, and the client is often left with the outstanding balance of this butchery.

Despite this, the company emphasises their healing influence, and makes great efforts to appear charitable. They also heavily lobby for longer sentences for people supplying and receiving unlicensed augmentations based on Chiron technology, and worse for backalley Renders.

The landscape of London has changed drastically for their presence, with the housing situation reaching critical levels and many living in houses shared between several families. Those who seek privacy must seek it above the smog line, in high rises that seem to creak from a breath pulled in too sharply.

A quick note: Goblins are playable characters.

[sonoftatooine]

Whumpay 2021

DAY 12: ALT DAY - NOT BELIEVED

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Sheev Palpatine

Summary: Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order after the Battle of Naboo, Anakin is rejected by the Council and given to Palpatine as an adopted son. Three years later, he reveals to Anakin that he is a Sith and that he will be his apprentice. Horrified, Anakin escapes from under his master’s watchful eye and runs away to tell the Jedi the truth.

***

“Master Kenobi, please!,” Anakin cried, twisting the long, voluminous sleeves of the Naboo robes his adoptive father had gifted him tightly in his hands, staring up at the Jedi Knight before him through messy blond curls disarrayed from his dash to the Temple. “Please don't send me back to him! I'll do anything! You don't have to make me a Jedi, just don't make me go back—”

“Young Skywalker,” Mace Windu interrupted him before the knight in question could reply. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, with a look of intense irritation on his face that had worsened and worsened ever since Anakin had given Palpatine's guards the slip and run to the Temple to tell the Jedi of the terrible truth he had discovered about the man who had taken him in after his rejection by the Order. “Your father is worried about you. Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

It wouldn't be difficult if you would just believe me, Anakin wanted to shout. Of all the problems he had imagined—being caught, being unable to escape his minders, getting to the Temple from Palpatine's apartment in 500 Republica undetected—it somehow hadn't occurred to him that the Jedi might not listen to him. But if Palpatine had proved anything in the months after he revealed that he was a Sith Lord intent on reshaping the Galaxy to his will and that he, Anakin, would be his apprentice—whether he wished it or not—it was that he was cunning and manipulative in a way that Anakin was not, with a watchful eye that was extremely difficult to escape from under. The Senate guards had informed him of his adoptive son's disappearance not long after he had left, and he had acted quickly to mitigate any damage Anakin might do in his escape. As such, by the time he ran into Obi-Wan and Windu at the entrance to the Temple, instead of being listened to and believed , he had been pulled into an empty conference room, his warnings lost beneath stern lectures about running away on his own and the severity of telling lies about his father. Palpatine had contacted the Jedi before he arrived, it seemed, and spun them a web of lies—lies about him being a troubled child who made up fantasies to deal with his past—that they had readily soaked up like a sponge. Twelve is a difficult age, he had probably said, in those kindly tones that everyone swallowed hook, line and sinker. And Anakin can be a difficult child. He feels the need to push back against my authority, and so of course he sees me as a villain. In truth, Master Jedi, I fear he has never really recovered from your rejection of him. Perhaps these...fantasies are a way of proving his worth to you. Whatever it had been, neither Obi-Wan nor Master Windu doubted it, and no matter what he said, it only earned him more disbelief from the two of them.

“He's not my father!,” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. Palpatine wasn't his father. He was his master, his owner. His mother's owner. He had only taken them in so that he could use him, possess him, make it so that he would have no choice but to follow the plans he had for him—bend to his will and his alone. No matter how kind he had seemed at first—and he had seemed kind to Anakin in the beginning, despite the monster that he was—his true colours showed it to be nothing but an act. “He's evil!”

The two Jedi, exchanged a glance, one exasperated, one pained. Then, Obi-Wan turned back to him, sighing sadly.

“Anakin, I know this is hard for you, but Chancellor Palpatine only wants what's best for you,” he said. “He took you in, freed your mother from slavery. He cares for you, and he was clearly very worried for you when he found you missing.”

“Only because he doesn't want me to tell you the truth!,” Anakin shot back. Palpatine didn't care for him, nor for his mother, nor for anyone but himself. He may have taken them away from Tatooine—a small, bitter part of him that seemed to be growing bigger and bigger with each day that he spent under the old Sith's thumb, like a speck of rot at the heart of a shurra fruit, hissed that it was more than the Jedi had ever done for them—but it was not freedom. It had been nothing more than a transaction—passing them from one master to another. A master that the Jedi had given him to without a second thought. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Why won't you believe me?!”

He didn't know why it hurt so much. Why he had placed so much faith in a group of people who had been ready to cast him off like a desperate droid once they had deemed him to old and too dangerous for them, and whose sole attempt to help had landed in him in a situation that almost made him think of his life on Tatooine with longing. But despite that bitter part of him that his master had taken great pains to nurture in him, the part which remembered his innocent hope upon seeing Qui-Gon Jinn's lightsaber clipped to his hip at Jira's stall—that still thought of the Jedi as the heroes the legends spoke of—had felt, somehow, that if he could just tell them the truth, that if the Jedi knew, it would all be alright. Their refusal to believe him was a crushing blow.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan said. He sounded pained. Anakin didn't want him to be pained, but he also wanted to be understood and believed. He needed Obi-Wan to help him and he wouldn't— Why wouldn't he—?

“He's a Sith!,” he exclaimed, his voice shaking from anger and frustrated tears. “He's the reason Padmé's planet was attacked! He's the reason Qui-Gon's dead!”

“Skywalker!” Master Windu barked sharply.

Obi-Wan had gone very white, his eyes wide and shocked, and Anakin knew he had gone too far. But it was true. Even if he didn't want to hear it, it was true, and he needed him to believe it, because if he didn't, Palpatine would punish him and his mother and then the Sith would continue on with his plan until it was too late and the Galaxy would be enslaved to him and the Jedi would be dead. He opened his mouth to continue but—

“That is quite enough, Anakin.”

Anakin froze at the sound of the familiar voice. It was the kindly Chancellor Palpatine voice rather than the foul croak of Darth Sidious, but it made Anakin shrink away and hide behind Obi-Wan's billowing robes all the same. From behind the Jedi Knight, he saw Palpatine come down the steps to the conference room from where he had been standing in the doorway, flanked by two senate guards, and adorned with his black and red robes of state and an expression of mingled displeasure and concern that he might have been convinced by had he not known the truth. But he did know the truth, and he could see the rage glinting in the Sith's eyes behind the benign veneer that had so fooled everyone else.

“Your Excellency” Windu said with a brusque nod of greeting. He couldn't see it, wouldn't see it—the evil behind the mask. Why couldn't any of them see it?

“My apologies, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said with a regretful sigh as false as his concern. Anakin knew well enough by now that Sidious would never apologise to a Jedi and mean it. “I knew this was a problem, but I had no idea—”

He cut himself off, turning sharply away and pinching the bridge of his nose. Taking in a deep breath, he lowered his hand and turned his attention back towards Anakin. He looked worried and tired, the very picture of a concerned and overworked father struggling to deal with an unruly son's latest stunt.

“What in the Galaxy were you thinking, Anakin?!,” he cried. “Running off like that? Anything could have happened to you!”

It couldn't be worse than anything you want to do to me, Anakin thought bitterly. He shrank further behind Obi-Wan, one small hand clutching tight at the back of his cloak. Obi-Wan glanced down at him, a small frown on his face, and despite his refusal to believe, Anakin felt a sliver of worry slip through the man's shields.

“I really am very sorry about this,” Palpatine said, his attention turned back towards the Jedi. He had drawn back when Anakin shrunk away from him, mindful to maintain his carefully cultivated persona—the pained father who only what was best for his son even as said son was convinced that he was the ultimate evil in the Galaxy. The smile he sent Master Windu was tinged with melancholy, even as he plotted Anakin's punishment for trying to expose him, even as he plotted the man's death and that of the entire Jedi Order. He hated him. Hated him. Hated him with the strength of a thousand suns— “I had best take him home. I'm sure he has troubled you enough already.”

No. No, he couldn't go back. He couldn't go back there. His master would be furious with him. He would hurt him. Punish him. He would hurt and punish his mother. He couldn't go back, couldn't let him— He needed the Jedi to believe him and then they could rescue her and it would all be alright. It had to be. It had to be— A gentle hand came to rest atop his head, suddenly stilling his wild thoughts. It was Obi-Wan's hand, he realised. Obi-Wan, who had made no move to send him off towards his adoptive father. Whose frown had not left his face since Palpatine arrived.

“Anakin is no trouble at all, Your Excellency” he replied. There was a hint of reprimand in his tone.

Palpatine smiled thinly.

“Of course,” he said, holding out a gnarled hand in Anakin's direction. “Come, my boy. We have taken up enough of the Jedi's time.”

Anakin did not move. He didn't want to go, couldn't go, not after what he'd done. He wanted to stay here with Obi-Wan. Palpatine would be watching him as intently as a bonegnawer did its prey, after this—it may be his only chance to get help, to find someone who would believe him and save them. No, he wouldn't go. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't—

There was a long pause where nobody spoke and nobody moved, and then Palpatine's face hardened.

“Come along, Anakin” he repeated. His voice was stern this time, though to the untrained ear, it did not sound unkind. Anakin, however, could hear the warning beneath the act loud and clear.

If you do not come with me right now, a cruel, croaking voice hissed inside his head through their bond, I will visit such pain upon your mother that she will be left with nothing but a half-life and a tattered soul. You think the Jedi will protect you, save her? They will do nothing, as they have always done, and your mother will curse your name for inviting such suffering upon her.

Anakin trembled. He wanted to cry. He had been so close, so close. Obi-Wan was still frowning, but he made no move to intervene, to give him an excuse to stay. Swallowing thickly, he pulled away, balling his shaking hands into fists beneath his sleeves, and headed slowly over towards his master. Palpatine's hand came to rest in-between his shoulder blades, arm blocking his route back to the Jedi like the door of a cage swinging shut.

“Thank you once again, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “We shan't impose upon you any longer.”

Come, boy, the voice hissed in his head again. Do not try my patience any further, unless you wish for a worse punishment than you've already earned. The pressure of the hand between his shoulder blades increased in warning, and Anakin had no choice but to follow along where his master led. Just as they reached the door, however, he turned, glancing back to catch Obi-Wan's eye. The frown was still on his brow, and as he met his gaze, Anakin couldn't help but imagine that there was something a little suspicious, a little unsettled in the expression on his face.

Well, Anakin thought as he was led away, perhaps there is some hope after all.

[asweetprologue]

the process of rewarming

Octoberfest 6: Hypothermia (whumptober #21)

Read on ao3

Kaedwin was sharply beautiful in the winter. Every surface glinted like polished crystal, the world coated in a fine layer of ice and snow. Blankets of white muffled the countryside, broken by the intimidating bulk of the northern mountains. The thick pine forests were heavy with snow, the trees bowing under the weight of winter in full swing. Above them, the sky was a steel gray that promised more harsh weather to come. 

The path that they walked was narrow and slick, the unforgiving mass of the mountain rising on their left and sloping downwards treacherously on their right. Jaskier paused, his breath puffing out before him as he spared a moment to look out over the countryside. The entire scene was cast in sharp black and white, the snow, trees and mountains beyond forming a stunning but severe monotone. It was bitterly cold, the icy fingers of the northern wind stabbing under each and every gap in his thick winter clothing. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice came from ahead. Jaskier looked away from the view, though the sight he turned to face was no less stunning. The witcher was just as bundled up as Jaskier, his armor traded out for a thick cloak and a padded coat, the rest of his usual gear loaded onto Roach. He looked even larger than usual, the bulky clothes adding extra breadth to his shoulders. His golden eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the snow, though the rest of his face was cast into shadow by the hood he had pulled over his head. Roach snorted beside him, shaking her mane out and tugging at the reins in Geralt’s hands. The path was small enough that Geralt had to walk her, not willing to risk a wrong step. “We need to keep moving,” he said, nodding up the mountain. “If we don’t reach Kaer Morhen by night we’ll be stuck in the snow.”

The clouds above did seem to be growing ever darker. Jaskier nodded, jaw clenched to hide his chattering teeth. Geralt’s eyebrows came together in a frown when he didn’t respond verbally, but Jaskier could do little to assuage his worries.

This was the first time that he’d been invited to travel to Kaer Morhen with Geralt, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up by complaining about the cold. If Geralt thought Jaskier couldn’t handle the journey, he’d never let him come along again. So yes, his fingers were nearly numb and his eyes were burning from the wind and his feet were clumsy as he followed Geralt up the path, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Not if it meant Geralt taking back his invitation in future years. 

So Jaskier hunched his shoulders and continued after the witcher in silence.

They were, Geralt said, no more than an hour or two away from the Kaer Morhen valley, and from there it was an easy walk up to the keep itself. The path that they currently walked was the most difficult part of the journey, made worse by the fact that they’d gotten a late start. Geralt had been finishing up a contract near Oxenfurt, and they’d only barely made it to the pass before it was closed for the winter. The snows had begun falling in earnest a week ago, and by the time they’d made it to the northern mountains they had been well and truly covered in ice and snow. There was nothing for it, however, so they’d started their reluctant way up. They’d been at it for a few days, but this area was clearly the riskiest. Jaskier had seen how Geralt’s mouth had gone thin when they discussed the last leg of the journey, but he hadn’t commented on it. 

They walked in silence for another half an hour or so before the path leveled out, splitting again into two diverging trails. The first led downwards, into what looked like a thin vale. As Jaskier followed Geralt along the other path leading further upwards, he could see that the trail below widened into a small valley. There was a river that ran parallel to their track, and here it widened into something almost large enough to be a lake. The water moved fast enough that it had not completely frozen over, only the edges glinting with sharp ice. It was some twenty feet below them, the mountainside sloping downwards sharply to meet the pool. The frigid waters reflected the light of the low hanging sun, throwing a shifting mosaic onto the cliffside across from them. It was a stunning scene, begging to be captured through pen or song. 

Perhaps it was because he was so taken by the environment that Jaskier stumbled. One moment he was staring out over the small valley, and the next his feet were rapidly sliding out from under him. The patch of ground in front of him that he’d assumed was solid crumbled beneath his heel, snow tumbling away and taking him with it. The thick blanket of snow on the path shifted, moving to fill the space abandoned through Jaskier’s misstep. He found himself slipping, drawn towards the edge of the cliff as if a tide was rushing over him. Jaskier fell, already half over the edge of the cliffside and headed towards the valley below.

Suddenly he was being tugged roughly up and to the side. Geralt’s hands were insistent, grabbing the front of Jaskier’s coat and pulling. Jaskier could feel the snow and ice beneath them still slipping, and he met Geralt’s eyes in a panic. If Geralt didn’t move, they would both go over with the crumbling mountainside. 

Geralt’s face was set with determination. With a heave, he pulled Jaskier up and twisted at the same time, shoving Jaskier out of the way even as Geralt tumbled over the side of the cliff.

“No!” Jaskier launched himself forward, trying to catch something - a sleeve, a hand, anything - but he met empty air. The snow under him shifted, and Jaskier scrambled backwards again to avoid going over the edge. He stared at the blank space where Geralt had been, dread making his breaths come in stuttering gasps. Across the decimated path, Roach snorted, pawing at the ground in agitation. 

Jaskier stumbled to his feet, heart in his throat. It wasn’t so far of a fall, he thought. Geralt could survive a twenty foot drop easily, especially if the snow had cushioned his fall. He was probably fine. Jaskier just had to find a way to get down to him, as quickly as possible. 

Once he’d managed to retrieve Roach, Jaskier swiftly backtracked down the path until he found the spot where the two roads diverged. He urged Roach down along the other trail until it began to widen out, leading into the little valley. The snow here was thick and heavy, having fallen from the nearby cliff sides and collected below. Jaskier had to shove himself through it, feeling the damp powder making its way into his boots. He ignored it, making his way as quickly as he could back towards the lake. Roach followed behind him slowly, her reins gripped tightly in his gloved hand. Geralt would be fine. He had to be. Jaskier just had to find him, and then they could continue to Kaer Morhen and he would have all winter to convince Geralt that this was all just a spot of bad luck. It would be a good argument. Jaskier just needed to find him. 

It took longer than he would have liked to make their way to the side of the pond. Jaskier began to look around frantically, trying to figure out exactly where Geralt had gone over. The upper path loomed above them, seeming higher up from this angle than Jaskier remembered. The snow was disrupted in many places, probably from various animals passing through the valley. Jaskier couldn’t tell where Geralt had come down, he couldn’t see anything but the snow, already covering up his own tracks, let alone any signs of Geralt - 

There was a cough. 

Jaskier sprang into action, abandoning Roach as he rushed toward the sound. There was a small overhang on the west side of the vale, against the wall their path had been on. When he neared, he could see that there was a line drawn through the snow from the side of the lake, as if something had been dragged through it in places. Jaskier felt his heart crawl up into his throat. Until now, he’d refused to think about what would happen if Geralt had fallen in the lake. He ran towards the overhang, following the shallow path through the snow. 

Geralt was slumped under it, in a small clearing where the snow had been unable to fully reach because of the overhang. Jaskier could immediately see that something was wrong as he crashed to Geralt’s side. The witcher’s skin was even paler than usual, his lips tinged blue. His white hair fell in frozen sheets around him, and his wet clothes had already turned icy in places. He looks dead, Jaskier thought suddenly, and it was the worst thought that he’d ever had. Bile pushed up into his throat, but he forced it back, instead cradling Geralt’s face in his hands. His skin was so cold Jaskier could feel it through his gloves. Holding his own breath, he moved his face close to Geralt’s slightly parted lips.

After a long moment, he felt a puff of air against his cheek. Relief hit Jaskier like a punch in the chest, his fingers tingling with it.

Witchers could survive low temperatures better than humans could, he knew, but he also knew that the process of warming them up was troublesome. Their hearts were so slow - a blessing and a curse. It would keep him alive even as his limbs shut down, but it would be harder to get him back to a normal temperature for the same reason. 

Alright. Alright. He had to focus. One step at a time. Geralt’s cloak was in a pile next to him, one edge slightly singed. He must have been trying to light a fire, Jaskier realized, but the cloth had been too saturated. Step one, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. Wet, freezing clothes had to come off. Jaskier hated the idea of exposing Geralt’s pale, damp skin to the open air, but he knew that the stiff coat he wore now wouldn’t do him any good. He reached out and started prying the fabric away, one layer at a time.

It was hard work, much of the clothing already coated in thin sheets of ice. Jaskier pulled and tugged and shifted until he finally wrestled Geralt out of his thick, useless coat. The layers underneath were just as soaked, but not yet quite as frozen. Jaskier stripped Geralt down as quickly as he could, leaving him bare. He didn’t even shiver, just lying on the cold ground with his breath barely forming clouds in the cold air. Jaskier hurried to Roach.

They had extra clothes in their saddlebags, cotton shirts and pants and a few blankets. Jaskier grabbed them without looking, arms piled high with material as he fell back to Geralt’s side. He pulled two shirts over Geralt’s head, and then laid down a blanket to protect him from the cold ground and rolled him onto it. The freezing earth would leach heat away from him just as surely as the snow or wet clothes would. Satisfied with Geralt’s position, Jaskier fumbled with his pants and socks until he was at least mostly clothed. 

Step one completed. Step two: shelter. The ledge was something, but they were still exposed to the elements. He didn’t have the time to go hunting for branches to make a lean-to, and there was very little foliage this high up the mountain anyways. They had a wax treated canvas sheet rolled up behind Roach’s saddle, but he had to find some way to mount it if he wanted to keep the snow off of them. 

Roach, bless her, was standing utterly still, clearly aware that something was going on. Jaskier headed back to her, and unclipped Geralt’s swords from their place against her side. They were all he had to work with in terms of any sort of scaffolding, so they would have to do. After grabbing the canvas, Jaskier shuffled through the path of snow back to Geralt. He leaned both swords against the back wall of the cliff, near Geralt’s head, spaced a fair distance apart. The canvas he dragged out and looped over each sword, the heavy weight of them pinning the rough fabric to the wall and holding it several feet above Geralt’s head. The other end of the canvas he dragged out until he reached the snow, half a foot or so away from Geralt’s toes. It was easy work to find a couple of stones to hold the end in place, resulting in a sloped little shelter. 

It would have to do for now. He wanted to make step three a fire, but Jaskier had to admit that he wasn’t great at starting them on the best of days. He never had to; Geralt always just snapped a finger and the kindling was crackling merrily away. They could make one later, when Geralt woke up and was cross about how cold their little tent was. They could always do it later. Grabbing the rest of the blankets from Roach, Jaskier gave her a quick kiss on the nose. He felt bad to leave her saddled and free to wander around, but he had to trust that she would be alright. Geralt needed him.

Decided, Jaskier scrambled inside of the makeshift shelter, careful not to pull too hard at the canvas. Geralt lie on the blanket inside, still absolutely still. Jaskier could see that his chest was rising and falling shallowly, but it didn’t truly assuage his fears. Tugging off a glove, he laid a hand on Geralt’s cheek and nearly winced. The witcher’s skin was freezing, as cold as the snow outside. 

There was nothing for it. Jaskier began tugging off his own clothes, wincing at the frigid air as it assaulted him. Geralt needed body heat to warm up, if they couldn’t have a fire. He left his boots and pants on, but everything else came off. After a moment of consideration he laid the coat and shirt along the seam of the canvas, blocking more of the harsh wind from entering their delicate abode. That done, he shucked off Geralt’s twin layers of shirts as well, now that they were no longer so exposed to the elements. Grabbing the remaining blankets that he’d pulled from Roach, Jaskier covered the both of them fully and laid down next to Geralt in the small, cold space he’d created. 

It was like laying down next to a block of ice, like one of the dazzling sculptures that sat in the square in Novigrad during the yule festivals. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s bare chest, gooseflesh erupting across his skin as it met Geralt’s. He was so cold, Jaskier thought, shivering as he huddled with Geralt beneath the mess of blankets. How could anyone survive being this cold? He felt dead already, his slow heartbeat even slower now as it sluggishly tried to keep his blood pumping. Jaskier tucked himself close, putting his head under Geralt’s chin as his own heart seized in his chest. He didn’t know what he would do if Geralt wasn’t okay - not just how he would get down this fucking mountain, or face Geralt’s family, or, fuck, how he would tell Ciri. He didn’t know what he would do, if Geralt wasn’t there anymore. A crushing void threatened to open in his chest just at the thought of it. 

And it would be his fault besides. All for forcing Geralt to take him on this bloody journey to Kaer Morhen, where he’d never even asked Jaskier to come. Jaskier had asked, begged even, said, But I want to meet your family and Ciri needs someone who knows how to tell a good story and I miss you, when we’re apart. And Geralt had caved, eventually, allowing Jaskier to come along where he wasn’t even wanted. Now he was going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere, because of Jaskier. 

A sob fell from his lips before he could stop it, a few stray tears sliding from his cheeks to land on Geralt’s collarbone. The small space under the blankets was growing, if not warm, then something less than freezing, so hopefully his tears wouldn’t freeze in place. Sniffling, Jaskier gathered Geralt’s hands in his own, still icy to the touch, and pressed them between their bodies. Geralt would be furious if he couldn’t wield a sword anymore because of something as silly as frostbite. 

It felt like they laid there for ages, and Geralt did not wake. Jaskier was anxious to the point of nausea and bored besides, wanting to pace and fret but unwilling to move an inch from his spot by Geralt. The occasional flurry and the cold ground under them ensured that the space never grew truly warm, but Jaskier found his skin becoming sticky with sweat where he was pressed to Geralt. How often had he thought of this, he wondered, on nights when they would share a bed or a bench in the tavern? He’d feel Geralt’s bulk against him through his clothes and his heart rate would pick up, his cheeks flushing as he thought about what it would be like, to feel Geralt skin to skin. To be held by him as a lover. They were silly thoughts. Geralt wasn’t interested, Jaskier knew that. He barely tolerated his presence after all these years. It wasn’t Geralt’s fault Jaskier couldn’t keep his heart to himself. 

After an age, Geralt started to shiver. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief; it meant the worst had passed. 

Jaskier scrambled out of the small tent as soon as he was relatively sure Geralt wouldn’t immediately die without him there. Step four: fire. Before heading up into the mountains, Geralt had filled a burlap sack with some light pieces of wood, explaining that the terrain provided little by way of kindling along the mountain path. Jaskier tugged back on his coat and gloves and retrieved the sack from Roach, who was waiting with an air of impatience outside of their shelter. Jaskier dumped the bag to the side and set about clearing an area to put the fire. The extra snow he piled up around the little area, building a short wall that reached about halfway up to the overhang protecting their little spot. Hopefully it would help shelter them from the wind and keep the fire lit. 

It took him forever to get the flint and tinder to agree with him, even using a clean, dry shirt from his pack as tinder. His fingers were clumsy and numb with the cold, and he was inexperienced with the tools. Eventually a spark flew from the stone in his fingers to the fabric and caught, and Jaskier hurriedly leaned down to blow on it gently. Once the piece was well and truly burning, he pulled a few of the smaller sticks from the bag of kindling and added them until a little fire was casting odd shadowing against the wall of the cliff and Geralt’s unconscious form.

Sitting back with a sigh, Jaskier gave himself a brief moment to warm his fingers before he refocused on Geralt. The warmth of the fire would reach him better without the canvas in the way, and with the pile of snow now blocking more of the outside air, Jaskier felt it was better to expose him somewhat. He moved one of the swords holding up the canvas tent cover until it was open on one side, letting the warmth of the fire into the small space. 

Finally finished, Jaskier stripped his coat back off and huddled under the blankets with Geralt once again. Over the next hour or so, he stirred only to put more kindling on the fire, trying to keep it at a small, steady flame that wouldn’t burn through their supply of wood for too long. They would need it to last them through most of the night. 

He was dozing slightly when he felt Geralt shift beneath him. Instantly he was wide awake, shooting upwards and almost knocking over the canvas. He stared down at Geralt, who was blinking up at him sluggishly. The little tent was almost warm now, the heat of the fire trapped at least partially within the makeshift walls. Geralt moved as if he was going to sit up, but Jaskier put a hand on his chest to still him, the movement agitated. 

“Don’t,” he said, quietly. “You - Are you alright? How do you feel?”

Geralt was still looking at him with a confused expression on his face, like he was trying to piece together exactly where he was and what Jaskier was doing there. “Jaskier,” he said, his voice full of gravel and grit, “what happened?”

Unable to be anything but blunt, Jaskier said, “You fell in a lake. My fault, I’m afraid. Can you feel your toes? I’m terribly worried about them.”

Geralt made a face. “They burn, so yeah,” he said with a grunt. In the small space between their chests, his fingers twitched. Jaskier forced himself not to flush. “Witchers don’t get frostbite,” Geralt continued, still shifting here and there as if to assess the damage.

“How does that track,” Jaskier said faintly. The relief he felt was dizzying; now that he was awake, Geralt seemed to be recovering even faster. His cheeks had a slightly pink tinge to them, and Jaskier could feel that his heart rate was elevated. 

“We heal from it, if we get it,” Geralt replied. “Roach?”

“Just outside,” Jaskier said, unable to stop a fond smile from flitting across his lips. Of course Geralt would be more worried about the horse than his own health. “Very cross at us for making her stand out in the wind, I’m sure.”

“I should take a White Raffords, probably,” Geralt mused, almost to himself. He looked tired; his eyes had that half present quality they sometimes did when he came out of a long meditation session. He met Jaskier’s gaze again, tracing over Jaskier’s face and then down his neck and chest. Jaskier swallowed. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked him, tone subdued. 

Jaskier felt a spike of anger and grief shoot through him, forcing him to inhale sharply. He wanted to box Geralt around the ears a bit, and only refrained because the man was in a delicate state. “Of course I’m alright, Geralt, you self sacrificing piece of horse shit! I’m the one you shoved out of the way and fell into a frozen lake at the bottom of a ravine for!” He fisted one hand in the blankets around them, mortified to find tears pricking at his eyes. He looked away, trying to hide the evidence of his guilt. 

He felt cool fingers suddenly on his jaw, forcing him to turn back towards Geralt. The witcher’s face was soft, eyes hooded with exhaustion and what looked like affection. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “I’d do it again,” Geralt said, tired but full of conviction. 

“I’m not worth it,” Jaskier said, sniffling. Geralt’s palm was warming up on his face, more and more alive with each passing moment. Jaskier wished he could do that all the time - give Geralt more warmth and life and love just through a touch. “Not your life.”

“You are,” Geralt said, with a finality that brokered no argument. His fingers skimmed down from Jaskier’s jaw and over his shoulder, until it stopped to rest against the center of his back. Holding him close. Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, a barely there press. His lips were still a little cold, drawing a shiver from the bard. When he collapsed back, he pulled Jaskier with him, curling around him beneath the blankets. “You are,” he said again, into Jaskier’s hair. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I wasn’t prepared to protect you.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jaskier said, blinking against the skin of Geralt’s neck. He was a bit dazed, still feeling the phantom of the kiss like a cool burn. “I did.”

Geralt huffed against him. “I said Ciri missed you,” he said, his fingers spread wide and comforting on Jaskier's back. Tracing around his spine in soothing circles. “I said you’d beat Lambert at gwent, and that Eskel would like that egg thing you make in the mornings, and that you would find a million songs to write about Kaer Morhen in the winter. I thought I was clear enough.” Jaskier felt a puff of warm air against the top of his head, a cold nose in his hair. “Sorry. Will you come to Kaer Morhen with me?”

Jaskier laughed, a sound half choked by tears. “It’s a bit late in the year,” he said, shuffling closer. “A bit of a big thing to spring on a fellow at the last minute.”

Geralt hummed, a sleepy sound that Jaskier knew meant he was dropping off. The little shelter around them was warm, and he knew they would be alright until Geralt woke again. “Next year,” Geralt murmured into his hair, “I’ll ask sooner.”

“And then maybe you won’t fall into a ravine because there’s so much damn snow,” Jaskier said, sighing as he tucked himself deeper into Geralt’s side. Next year. 

“Melitele willing,” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt warm all the way through.

[professional-dikut]

Here’s a super sweet Echo/Crosshair fic req from an Anon!

( i couldn’t decide between Cross and Tech, but Cross flowed better for some reason, so i went with him :D) I hope you enjoy ☺️ (slight TW for vomiting and sum self-destructive thoughts<3) Fic under cut ⬇️

Word count: 3339

"That should be all." Nala Se spoke slowly, turning away from the arc trooper and dropping the bacta shot into a waste bin.

Echo nodded and hopped off of the examination table as the Kaminoan turned to put a data pad away.

He glanced down at his legs as he tugged his sleeve back over his flesh arm.

Nala Se had given him another anesthetic—the second one this week—after he had stepped funny on one of his prosthetics during a course down in the simulator facilities. He'd taken a pretty un-graceful fall and accidentally tripped Hunter, sending the two of them tumbling down a ramp. Hunter was fine, but Echo's leg had been sore the entire day.

In fact, Crosshair had to catch him in the dinner-line when he'd almost toppled over from standing on his leg in a certain position for too long.

The sniper had given him a look and told him to go to the med-bay—no exceptions.

So here he was, in the med-bay, again, with his second painkiller of the week.

It was starting to become... troublesome.

He began to put his armor back on before deciding that he would just carry it back to the barracks since the batch would be going to sleep soon anyways. Well, Hunter, Crosshair, and Echo would be going to sleep. Tech and Wrecker usually stayed up to do their own thing for a bit before actually heading to bed. 

Sighing, he scooped up the plastoid in his arms and began to make his way out of the med-bay.

The bright hallways of Tipoca City seemed to burn through his eyes and into his newly peaking headache, causing him to squint as he turned a corner. He knew his way around the city, it was sealed into his brain after getting lost many times in the previous years, before he joined the bad batch. Before the thing happened.

The thing.

The thing that was becoming harder to keep up with day after day, becoming harder and harder to push aside. Harder to ignore. Harder to hide.

It was getting harder and more exhausting to fake being fine around the bad batch, to ignore the constant headaches and bothersome pains where his limbs were supposed to be. There had been so many times where Echo had skipped meals because he could barely stand, telling the rest of the batch that he was just worn out—which wasn't exactly a lie. Sleeping was becoming more difficult as well.

His nights were turning into readjustments, shifting around, blanket-no blanket madness. He'd stare up at the ceiling in the barracks, and pray to the maker that he'd be able to fall asleep for hours on end. Sometimes he'd sit up in his bed and scroll through a data-pad, looking at old rules and regulations to see if he could still recite them like he used to. It was all so different now, but all so similar at the same time.

The Batch was so understanding. They understood Echo. They helped him when he needed it, and they welcomed him as one of their own. 

But he wasn't one of them.

He was more machine than man. 

That was nothing like them.

The regs knew, the batch knew, and Echo knew. It was obvious. They knew what they were getting into when they accepted him into their squad. 

Echo's stomach lurched as he turned a corner, and another wave of pain flowed through his temples.

He was becoming the exact thing he told himself he wouldn't.

A liability.

A burden if you will.

All Echo did was slow the squad down, and mess up their flow. He couldn't do anything right without getting himself or one of the batch hurt. It was like a curse, that he literally couldn't function without. Without his prosthetics, he'd be of zero use or need to the squad, and would most likely be cast away to work in the medical facilities, or decommissioned.

So really, The bad batch was the only reason he was being kept alive.

And he just kept screwing it up.

They always told him, that he wasn't a problem, that he wasn't slowing them down, or burdening their team. But what if they were lying? Echo wouldn't be surprised if that was the situation. Tripping Hunter during the simulation wasn't the first time something like that had happened, it it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

So why did they keep him?

A weight began to settle in Echo's stomach as he turned down the hallway that the batch's barracks were in. 

He exhaled, and almost put his lunch on the floor.

He froze, and dropped a few pieces of armor as he slapped his hand up to his mouth. The sound of the plastoid clattering to the floor sounded in his ears much louder then they should've, knocking another pulse of discomfort through his skull. He turned away from the noise and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ground himself as a bitter taste filled his mouth and bile bubbled in the back of his throat.

Echo's mind began to race as he stood as still as possible for a minute.

Clones were not supposed to get sick. He knew that for a fact, and had never met or seen a sick clone in his entire time being alive. It was threaded into them as mere test tubes, and continuously kept up as they grew, and went out to war. Clones were a species with one of the strongest immune systems in the galaxy, so there was really no reason for Echo to be feeling this way.

Well, there was always the thing. 

With most of his humanity stripped away, it was possible that some of his genetics and artificial health that the Kaminoans had pumped into him since birth was failing now. He was eating whats in the cafeterias—most of the time—which contained the nutrients and medicines that kept them all healthy and ready for battle at anytime. So why was his stomach betraying him?

He opened an eye and stared at the blank white wall for a second, before looking to the barracks and considering his options.

He could, go back to Nala Se and ask for some stomach relievers, or possibly another bacta shot, or, he could go into the barracks and attempt to fake his way till sleeping time, and hope that he didn't vomit all over Tech's equipment.

Nala Se was most likely already closing everything up and putting all her supplies away, so it was possible that he could catch her before she finished up. Although, she might consider his condition... unreasonable. If he kept coming to her with more problems, it would give her a pretty good reason to send him to the medical squads, where he would be less bothersome to her, or even to the decommissioning facilities.

Shit.

He wasn't even sure he could make it all the way back to the med-bay at this point. His hand was shaking, still over his mouth, and the nausea mixed with his splitting headache was doing nothing for his attempt at grounding himself. If he did go into the barracks, he'd have to make it to the bathroom before any of the squad saw him. 

Unless... Was the squad even in there?

Echo tried to remember what day it was through the thick fog that seemed to have settled in his head, and thought about what days the squad went to train in the sparring rooms.

It was... Taungsday? No. It was Centaxday. On Centaxday, the batch went down to the sparring rooms at around twenty-hundred, and trained till twenty-two hundred-thirty. So, if he could just...

Echo glanced down at the pieces of armor he'd dropped. 

His bracer and comm were on the ground, and his bracer had a chronometer on it. 

Slowly, Echo forced himself to swallow and took a deep breath, straightening himself out and closing his eyes for a moment. He leaned over, and hissed as another piece of armor tumbled out of his arms. He picked them back up and attempted to adjusted them with his prosthetic arm, before clicking the chronometer on.

It read twenty-hundred twenty-nine. Perfect.

Echo swallowed again before taking a step towards the barracks door. He kept his gaze straight ahead as his vision started to swim in front of him while he walked. Desperately, he reached out to the door with his prosthetic, jabbing the button on the panel next to it, dropping more armor at the lack of support.

A disgusting wave a nausea crashed over him as he stumbled into the wide room when the door hissed open.

Crosshair snapped his eyes up to Echo from his bed as he stepped down the stairs un-gracefully, dropping pieces of armor on the way.

He-

Crosshair.

Echo did a double take, whipping around to face the sniper on his bed.

He was the only one in the room. Perhaps he didn't want to spar tonight? Or maybe Echo got the days wrong...

"Echo?" Crosshair spoke from his bed, shifting his rifle to his other side as he cleaned it.

Echo opened his mouth to answer, but instead, dropped his all of his armor completely, and darted into the fresher to vomit. 

His stomach tensed, pushing up everything he'd eaten in the last few hours right into the toilet. He crouched down, taking a quick breath before throwing up more. His throat burned, and tears sprang into his eyes as he gripped the edge of the toilet. 

He repeated that, two or three more times, before sitting back on his heels and sagging into the wall next to him. 

He breathed heavily, holding his flesh hand over his still aching stomach as he let out a cough. A gross taste burned in his mouth and he grimaced, swallowing down another urge to vomit before letting his head tilt back to rest against the wall.

Why the fuck was Crosshair in the barracks.

"What are you doing." The man in concern said flatly, suddenly standing at the door of the small fresher.

Echo groaned, before leaning over to heave into the toilet once again. 

Pain pulsed through his head as the muscles in his stomach squeezed and cramped together, making everything about the situation ten times worse then it needed to be. A tear rolled down his cheek as his face heated up, humiliated in front of the experienced sniper.

"Are you okay." Crosshair said from behind him, voice literally emotionless.

Echo shouldn't be this weak. He was an ARC Trooper for kriff's sake. He was supposed to be the strong one. The leader. And here he was, barely able to make it through the day with out getting hurt or sick.

Another tear rolled down his face, and then another, before he was full on crying while emptying his stomach in the small space. 

"Echo." 

Echo coughed as his stomach stopped for a moment, giving him a second to breathe. He tried to wipe his tears as he heard Cross step into the fresher.

"What." Echo croaked, clearing his burning throat and lowering his head as he leaned away from the toilet.

The sniper suddenly crouched down next to Echo, resting his forearms on his thighs as he turned to look at him.

Echo looked away.

"Are you 0kay?" Crosshair asked again. He was only in the bottom half of his armor, his top half covered by his blacks like Echo was.

Echo looked up to stare at him. 

Crosshair blinked.

"I-" Echo tried, his voice watery. "I'm sorry."

He sniffled, wiping his face with his left arm as he leaned back into the wall again.

"For what?" Cross asked, his face completely neutral.

Echo breathed, trying to inhale through his stuffy nose, before looking back up at Crosshair again. 

A  broken sob escaped his lips, and then all hell broke lose from there. 

Echo cried. He cried hard. Weeks of built up emotions, all poured out in front of him like he was some scared cadet all over again. Tears streamed down his face as he cried into his hand trying to cover his weakness, only to cry harder as everything hit him right there. All his unprocessed thoughts, all the lingering emotions that hadn't been dealt with, all of the situations he couldn't prevent because of his condition. He sobbed harder, wishing he could just be normal, with out complications, or ever present headaches that liked to come at the worst times.

And Crosshair got to witness all of it.

At some point, the man had shifted to sit next to Echo against the wall, which only made Echo cry harder. Cross showed no sign of any emotion the entire time, just sat next to him, in his presence. It was kind of reassuring, but it was hard to focus on when a sob racked his body every five seconds.

Slowly, Echo's body began to calm down as he tried to take a few deep breaths. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually, he got himself to a point where he was just wiping silent tears away from his cheeks as he sniffled. His stomach felt a little better, at least.

The two of them sat like that for a good five minutes before Crosshair spoke again.

"What just happened?" He questioned slowly, turning to face Echo.

Echo gave a shaky sigh before attempting to speak again.

"I'm- Im sorry, for everything," He started, choosing his words carefully. "I'm supposed to be better, I shouldn't keep messing up like this. I know I'm slowing your squad down, I'm becoming more of a burden everyday, and I'm sorry. I keep getting hurt and hurting you guys, I keep getting sick and I can't do anything about it and I'm afraid I'm gonna get culled if this keeps happening and-"

Echo was cut off abruptly cut off by a hand turning him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Crosshair had pulled him into a hug.

Oh.

Even in the uncomfortable position, the hug shot right through Echo's chest and made even more tears spring into his eyes. 

He sniffled again, before burying his face into Cross's shoulder and letting out an annoyed whimper. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other like it was the end of the world, and all they had were each other. Cross was usually cold and awkward with physical touch, but in his arms he felt warmer and more comfortable then usual. Echo sighed and relaxed into his arms as the sniper held him tighter.

"You are not a burden."

Echo laughed bitterly into Cross's shoulder.

"I dont-"

"You're not."

Echo looked up from his shoulder, pulling back to look Cross in the eye.

His face was level and relaxed, but his brow was furrowed in seriousness. The tattoo over his right eye was creased like it always was when Crosshair was being genuine, and Echo had to stare for a moment just to make sure. 

"But, I-"

"No." Cross said. "You are not a burden, you don't slow us down, we get hurt all the time, and you're doing fine. You don't need to do better."

Echo continued to stare as the sniper spoke with zero hesitation.

"You're fine just the way you are, and you absolutely will not be culled." Cross stated, giving a small nod as confirmation.

Echo blinked and stared at him.

"And you're most likely not sick, it's probably anxiety. Makes Tech sick sometimes too." The sniper said with a small shrug.

He sounded so real, and honest. There was no reason for Echo to not believe his words, but still, something in his head held him back. 

Echo grumbled a response as Cross took his flesh hand and gave it a squeeze.

"We'll work on it." Cross said, as if he’d read Echo’s mind. 

Echo gave a weak laugh as Cross pulled him close again, cradling the back of his head in his hand. Echo held on to him too, relaxing into Cross's calm and trying to get his legs into a more comfortable position. They were annoying, but he could deal with it if it meant getting to cuddle with Crosshair—which was a very rare thing known to the whole squad.

Crosshair pulled away for a second this time, and Echo looked at him, a flash of worry crossing his face.

The sniper cocked an eyebrow at him before smirking and getting to his feet, pulling Echo up along with him.

"You need sleep." Was all the man said before hitting the button on the toilet an dragging Echo out of the fresher and towards the beds.

"Cross, I'm not gonna be able to." Echo sighed as they closed in on Crosshair's bunk.

Sleepless nights were starting to become normal, and Echo wasn't seeing any hope for them stoping anytime soon.

"Sit." Cross said, gesturing to his bed as they stood next to it together. 

He rolled his eyes, and plopped down in the bunk as Cross wandered away to get something. Echo turned to glance at the target posters on the inside, and then to the neatly made sheets, and then the soft pillows. It was cozy, and also the same as Echo's bunk, but... definitely more cozy.

Echo began to remove his prosthetics as Crosshair came back with a cup in his hand.

"Here, drink this." He held the cup out for Echo as he set one of the prosthetics down.

Echo took the cup while Cross sat down next to him and began taking of the rest of his own lower half armor. 

He took a sip of the drink as Cross unsnapped his last thigh plate off before setting them aside along with Echo's prosthetics. The liquid was cool, and felt soothing in his stomach after the horrible nausea. His head was still hurting, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it was just ten minutes ago. Now that he had calmed down some, he was starting to understand Cross's suggestion about anxiety.

Echo was fine.

Or, at least he was going to be.

Downing the last of his drink, he leaned to the side to set the cup on the ground, and caught a glimpse of his scattered armor at the door of the barracks. Sighing, he facepalmed and began to turn to ask Cross if they should pick them up, but a pair of arms snaked around his torso before he could finish.

"We'll pick em up in the morning." Cross hummed into his shoulder, pulling him back into him.

Echo chuckled as the two of them fell back into the bunk in a spooning position. Crosshair pulled him close, tightening his arms and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck as he pulled his blanket over them. Relaxing into his arms, Echo felt his nausea begin to trickle away, leaving behind a content and warm feeling in his chest and stomach. Crosshair’s warmth and arms comforted him from their place around him, and he suddenly felt more grounded then he had then entire day.

A relieving sigh made its way out of Echo’s lungs as he listened to the harsh rain against the long window in the barracks.

Slowly, he let his eyes flutter shut. His head still ached, but it wasn’t as prominent, and more easy to ignore. Maybe he’d actually be able to sleep tonight.

The sniper fell asleep quick, almost immediately relaxing and settling into Echo’s back. He rested his left hand on Cross’s hand, and traced circles around the back of his palm until he started to slip into unconsciousness himself. His eyelids began to get heavier as his breathing steadied, and soon, his whole body relaxed—for the first time in a while—as he slept in Crosshair’s arms.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 34

💖 first time reader click here 💖

A little bit of plot, but mostly ironstrange x reader filthy porn. Bukkake stuff. Stephen finally opening up a lil bit, I mean... I've slept through a 1/3 of a hospital and lemme tell you, doctors are kinky bastards. On the same note, there's definitely going to be a chapter where all three men are involved after the plot shit is resolved.

There was something big brewing. I had a hunch... which was more like a strong sense of doom... hanging over me and the rest of the world. Peter also had noticed the sudden spike in anxiety, quoting the sudden disappearance of many low-tier mutants from the streets. Usually, Peter dealt with at least a few enhanced enemies during his patrols but the closer it got to Christmas, the less enhanced bothered with small-time crimes, the more intense the buzzing of his Spidey sense became.

Now that my immediate lack of income wasn't a problem anymore, I set business onto that damn mercenary. I was no spy, I was no SHIELD operative but... I could be very clever.

First things first, I had to make sure I would stay alive no matter what. A subdermal tracker was a good guarantee of security and I spent many hours making one - having to keep it a secret was incredibly hard, I hated lying to my loves and I hated avoiding Wanda even more - I was constantly on the edge around the telepath, hyperfocused on keeping up the pretense of normalcy.

I wouldn't be me if I couldn't successfully pull off a whole ass façade. Unfortunately, the continued failures of the people searching left and right for the mercenary only fueled my strength for the inevitable fuck-fest that I would have to create in order to make sure my people get the peace they fucking deserve. The web of lies grew in size every damn day.

Subdermal tracker, an implant that reports directly to Friday upon activation. It hurt like a bitch - I had cut myself open, an inch wide gash on the inside of my forearm - and put it in without any anesthesia in my own bathroom, not even thinking twice before making up a lie that I had been careless in the lab and hurt myself.

An antidote to common tranquilizers, creating it gave me a headache the size of Moscow but I'd been successful; Tony assembled the whole team when he found it out, offering me a ridiculous amount of money for the formula. It was weird. SHIELD was interested, too, and I had to witness Tony and Coulson argue. Apparently, the agency wanted to recruit me and Tony was adamantly against it, totally forgetting the promise Natasha had given me. In the end, the spy and Coulson shared a quiet conversation and the man left, respectfully complimenting my skills.

I sold the formula to Stark Industries, unable to get rid of the weirdness of the situation. I had to shake hands with my own boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend... In a business setting. What. Just what. Bucky and Stephen couldn't stop laughing at the face I made all throughout that day - and Clint even went as far as to bake me a gag cake, a cartooney handshake drawn in frosting on top of it. I hit him with a spatula, Loki smiled in his direction for the first time in, like, ever. It was a trip and Tony had way too much fun with the incident.

Perhaps, turning myself into a cyborg stew wasn't the best plan that was possible to think up in a few weeks' time but I've never claimed to be exceptionally intelligent; if anything, I've always considered myself to be a moderately educated idiot. It is common knowledge that there are two halves of a whole idiot: my second half was on his way from California, having had received my very detailed e-mail about the whole cursed box fiasco and the consequences that followed. I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of seeing uncle Eddie and his symbiote again.

Tony wasn't even half as excited; if anything, he bordered on outright hostile, bickering, and sassing everybody left and right. It could have been the situation at hand finally getting on his last nerves. It could have been his jealousy, the same that appeared every time I paid extra attention to someone that wasn't him, Bruce or Stephen. Either way, Bruce was sighing all the time now and Stephen's remarks began to fill with poison once again.

Just like the good old times, I guess. I was forced to pull a Me over and over, interrupting their petty arguments with increasingly absurd remarks. I felt like everybody was laughing at me these days, which ended in only one way it could have...

"Brat," Stephen's patience was paper-thin and, being forcefully distracted from yelling at Tony, he directed his angst at the nearest person - me. "I oughta put you over my knee. I swear to Cosmos..."

"Blah, blah, blah. Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk?" I raised my eyebrows, tone deceptively calm. "You're talking too much for someone who can't even..." I didn't get to finish my sentence, suddenly finding my mouth firmly glued shut. It was magic - the sensation was pulling, but not unpleasant. Reminded me of a ball gag Tony had used on me in the early days of our relationship.

"Now, Dumbledore, hold your horses..." Tony interjected looking none-too-happy. The engineer placed a warning arm on the sorcerer's bicep, their little spat seemingly forgotten.

"What, Tony? She's been nothing but a mouthy urchin the past few days, I can't stand it anymore," They shared a meaningful look; no matter how much Tony wanted to argue, he knew Stephen was right. What he didn't know was that there probably have been a magic versus science altercation... Or worse. Humiliation was a small price to pay for some (relative) peace.

I did what I do best. I annoyed them further, throwing up a juicy middle finger to the two men and turned around with a huff, mind set on finding Loki to undo the mute ban Stephen gave me. Needless to say, I didn't make it very far.

In mere seconds, I was sandwiched between the two men, Stephen's finger delicately holding my chin to force me to look into his eyes. Tony was holding onto my shoulders from behind me - I could feel the tension, my engineer was almost buzzing with it. I was pretty sure my eyes were laughing anyway because Stephen's frown slowly transformed into a coy smirk once his stormy blues focused on my face.

"Brat," He repeated once again. "She's doing this on purpose."

"I can't say I'm surprised," Tony's breath tickled the nape of my neck. "That does sound like our little Princess," Apparently, it took all of a 0.1 second for Tony to switch from annoyed to horny. Men, they were so easy to play. "Baby, if you wanted our attention you could have just said so," He chastised me, hands sliding down to my waist.

I hummed, and then aggressively hummed some more until Stephen removed the magical gag. "Not like you'd notice it, being occupied with tearing each other's hair out," I pouted.

The sorcerer briefly averted his eyes, leaning down to softly kiss my pout. It was very unlikely I'd get an actual apology but a kiss I won't be complaining about either. "So, your best tactic was to annoy us even more? How does that work out for you?"

I pulled on the tied fabric around his waist, bringing him closer to me. "Pretty good, if I'm being honest. You're exactly where I wanted you to be," Carelessly, I began untying the layers of silks and cotton I had become intimately familiar with over the course of the past few weeks. Most of the time Steph wore his wizard garbs and while figuring out how to undo them was a trip at first, I had gotten him desperate enough a few times, for him to show me a few tips and tricks for easier access.

Tony snorted somewhere behind me. "You just want us for our bodies," His hands wormed their way under my shirt, brushing the underside of my breasts. Bra? Hardly know her. "Our beautiful, sexy bodies." Yes Tony, very humble.

"When will you learn, people?" I asked rhetorically, simultaneously leaning into both Tony's and Stephen's touch. "Why fight each other when you could be fucking me into oblivion instead?"

Stephen snorted, still not completely used to the at times crude things that left my (and occasionally Tony's) mouth. I had a hunch the sorcerer was holding back somewhat - for whatever reason - and I was eagerly waiting for him to get comfortable enough to reveal that special part of himself. Whatever it was, I just knew it was delicious and sinful and-

"Do you really think I will be giving you what you want after your little... Stunt?" Steph went balls out; his voice dropped and the intensity of his stare left me breathless. The hand that was stroking my face wrapped around my throat as he had some sort of a silent conversation with Tony.

"Yeah," I emphasized the word with an inaudible 'duh' behind it but obediently trotted along as Stephen backed up towards the couch, leading me by the throat like a pet on a leash. I was steadily going into 'no thoughts, head empty' territory.

"I like it when you get all bossy," Tony remarked casually but he was close enough for me to hear the strain in his voice. Every time we fucked, Tony eagerly gave up the control to Stephen. I definitely saw the appeal. Stephen Strange demanded authority effortlessly, his stern but fair attitude simply demanded to kneel.

That's just what I did. As soon as Stephen made himself comfortable on the Italian leather couch, I dropped to my knees, looking up at the man with big round eyes. Just like Tony and Bruce, Stephen had his own weaknesses when it came to moi and I wasn't ashamed to exploit them. Steph's stroked my hair, carding careful fingers through it, slowly unbuttoning his pants with his other hand.

"If you insist on being mouthy, I have a better task for you," He husked, pulling me closer towards him. I called it his doctor voice. Honestly, I don't have a clue how his surgical team could be around him with their pants on back in the day... The man was a snack on a silver platter.

Steph's erection sprang free. I didn't hesitate to wrap my hand around it, stroking the underside of his glans just like he liked it, looking to the side where Tony landed on the couch next to Stephen, a curious look on his face. Yeah, Tony liked to watch. Me and Stephen or me and Bruce... Me and Stephen and Bruce? That's an idea for later.

"Don't mind little old me," Tony smirked his trademark Stark mischief, getting comfortable, ditching his oil-stained shirt and unbuttoning his pants to lazily palm himself through his boxers. "Carry on," The smirk only grew when Tony noticed both me and Steph eyeing him with amusement.

I hid my grin, nodding my head, before wrapping my lips around the tip of Stephen's cock, relaxing my throat to prepare for the intrusion. Sweet and salty, the slit on his cockhead was mercilessly teased by the tip of my tongue.

Stephen murmured encouragements under his breath as I began to bob up and down, him controlling the pace with a hand in my hair, just the right balance between cruel and gentle. The sorcerer was always too good to me, bringing me to the point of overstimulation and instantly soothing the ache afterward; "Fuck, darling, your mouth feels like heaven," He groaned as I snuck a look upwards to see his lips parted and a steady flush crawling up his neck.

"She knows how to work a man, doesn't she?" Tony's lust had him panting, hips moving into his own hand. He leaned closer to Stephen, brushing my hair behind my ear with a tender hand. "Merlin needs to share," Tony began pulling me in his direction. I reluctantly let go of Stephen's cock, keeping up the pace with my hand as I scooted closer to Tony to be able to mouth at his stiff erection.

Watching me suck cock always got Tony hard enough to pound nails with. I couldn't blame him, I knew what I could do and did well; by the time I made my way down his thick flesh, drool was dripping down my chin and the make-up around my eyes was surely smeared by tears. My engineer was much less gentle than Steph, pounding my face without reservations.

"I know you can take it, baby girl, fuck," My face was held in his strong grip, thumbs digging into my jaw. "Such a good girl," The two words went straight down to my pussy and I had to squirm and clench my thighs together, whining at the lack of friction.

The air was pierced by a low moan - Stephen was fisting his erection almost desperately now, almost as desperately as I was humping the air, whining like a bitch in heat at the taste of Tony's cock in my mouth. I knew neither of the men would last long, not with all that pent up tension running through their minds and bodies.

"Fuck, come here, baby girl," The engineer yanked me off his cock, gripping the base of it so forcefully his knuckles turned white. I was all but dragged into the space between them; still kneeling, barely seeing with snot and tears smeared all over my face, I couldn't hold in the broken moan as the realization set in.

"Keep your eyes open!" Steph instructed furiously, scooting to tower over me. Tony followed in his steps as I obediently lifted my eyes to their cocks and then their faces; nearly identical furrowed brow expressions stared back at me, lips moist and eyes wide. Both men stroked themselves with renewed vigor.

I hummed softly before sticking out my tongue; their reaction didn't let me wait long. Strings of pearly white cum landed in my hair, on my face; I felt the warmth on my skin and tasted their salt and musk on the tip of my tongue, reflexively swallowing each and every drop that landed in my mouth, savoring it just like I savored the sinful groans that left their mouths.

"Fuck, you're so good to us," Tony panted, gracelessly falling backward onto the couch.

Stephen, however, didn't hurry to catch his breath, giving me a thoughtful look. His fingers shook more than ever but he paid no mind to the discomfort, gathering the cum dripping down my face with two fingers and offering it to me, holding them up to my lips as I gently cleaned them off. And he did it again, and again, until Tony gave a weak moan of recognition, throwing an arm under his head.

"Be polite, Princess," Stephen's voice hadn't lost the lust in it just yet.

"Thank you, sir," I mumbled, utterly captivated by the way he was looking at me. Stormy blues radiated a strong sense of intensity, devotion perhaps, that I wasn't ready for.

Stephen smiled at me, almost coyly, before kneeling right next to me and bringing me over the edge with a few sharp, clever movements of his hand. I held onto his shoulders for dear life, barely noticing Tony's reaction - if there was one - my other lover seemed to be as surprised as I was, choosing to hang back and observe the unusual situation.

I had a feeling that whatever it was, it would make another appearance during our playtime. It wasn't just sex, it wasn't making love - it was... Something. I loved every second of it.

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