#but here you quickly realize that it isn't much about a big twist or anything

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 1-6 & 1-7

[small warnings for alcohol, drunken behavior, and a non-consensual kiss. Nothing too serious but I figured I'd warn.]

With the mountainous region of Bustoke visible to its right, the ship slowed down and calmly entered the harbor of Rindo.

Everyone saw it from the deck, the town looked painted in red by the setting sun. Houses big and small were crammed together in front of the walls that surrounded the town. Smoke from cooked dinners rose from every chimney, and the occasional passerby hurried through the streets.

They approached the pier.

A man sat there holding a fishing rod. As if recognizing Bleu from the deck, he got up and began waving his hands.

"Bleu!" He called.

"Someone you know?" Karin asked to Bleu, who was right next to her. He gave a halfhearted reply while inclining his head forward.

The only people he knew from Rindo were his old comrades in arms, Lyle and Guntz.

Even as they walked the gangway and got down to the pier, he still hadn't remembered who that was. The man on the other hand, sporting an ochre beard, looked at him cheerfully.

"Did you forget, it's me, Boken."

Hearing the name, Bleu finally remembered. He was an adventurer Bleu had met only once, in the town of Prompt. He had been around all of Rune going after the Shining Force, and had written plenty of travel, cultural and war records.

"I get it, it's been many years. I'm no longer the young man who ran around the whole continent," he laughed while stroking his beard.

Once Bleu's group mentioned that they had not yet decided where to spend the night, he pretty much dragged them to his house. He currently lived right next to the inventor Crock, who was Lyle and Guntz's teacher. Between the nostalgia trip and his helpfulness, Bleu grew comfortable around the friendly guy.

That night became kind of a party. Lyle came, and they talked fondly of the old days.

Sadly, Guntz was away, conducting research on the Pao Train.

"That Guntz, he works as an inventor on his own now. I still help Dr. Crock," Lyle laughed as he told Bleu that.

Lyle was a centaur, having a horse lower body and a human upper half. Because that, he was the only one there who was the same height as Bleu. It was a relief for them that Boken's house had a high ceiling.

"Is everyone else doing well?"

"Yeah. Anri inherited the throne and rebuilt her country with everyone else from Guardiana, and Zylo still rules Bustoke well. Earnest rules Uranbatol now, and has been working hard with the other knights. The more adventurous ones, they should be under this same sky somewhere. Well, I'm sure they're doing great. You're pretty much one the only one who shut yourself away."

Done with his loud rambling, Lyle poked Bleu's nose with his mug. Some foam got on it. He had a good laugh off that. While embarrassed, Bleu also laughed, wiping it off with the tip of his tongue.

"But say, what kind of journey are you on with all these young ladies?" Boken asked, and Lyle joined in.

"Yeah, right, why did you leave your old home this time? Anything interesting going on?"

Bleu was unsure on how to answer. He still wasn't clear on what he should do about the Manual. But opening up to someone like Lyle should be fine… He opened his mouth, but Camallia came in the conversation right then.

"We are on our way to Manarina right now. I am from a foreign land, so they are helping me. Miss Krin, who studies at Manarina, is guiding the way, while her sister, Lady Karin, and Sir Bleu came along to protect us."

She looked at Bleu for approval, and he nodded. The sisters watched in silence, probably thinking there was no need to say anything else.

"Ooh, a foreign land, I see, I see. Where are you from then, miss?"

Boken sounded very interested in Camallia's homeland.

Camallia had a good tolerance for drinks, and told them a lot about Parmecia between many mugs of alcohol.

Time slowly went by, and Karin and Krin, who weren't very used to drinking, retreated to their bedroom early. Lyle also excused himself as he had work on the next day.

"So many books. Have you written all of these?" Camallia asked Boken, her cheeks rosy.

One could believe that Boken's walls were made of books. His shelves, which reached up to the ceiling, were crammed with them. To Bleu, who had been raised with a similar room, the place was oddly soothing. Maybe because of the alcohol, or because Boken and Camallia had amusing things to say, Bleu felt in peace like he hadn't been in a long time.

"Half are guides and reference materials. I read them, and thought of going out for adventure. I wanted to visit the lands that showed up in their stories. The rest of the books were written by me, based on my adventures. There are guides introducing the places I've been, and also collection of stories I've heard around. In the end, they're all a lump of my dreams," Boken said as he showed them around the room by the light of the fireplace.

"Then, will you write of us in a book as well?"

"I hope to. You've told me a lot of curious stories that could fill shelves."

Camallia laughed, "you are truly a strange man."

She got up suddenly. Either because she stumbled, or because she wanted to, she swayed towards Boken. Taken aback, he helped her stand up. It seemed that the drinks had finally got to her.

"Maybe we should end the night here," Bleu said, and Boken shakily agreed.

"Is it the end? Then, to the adventurer who will watch the world change from here on, here's a good night kiss…"

With an arm around Boken's neck and without asking, Camallia kissed him. She then closed her eyes, and quietly feel asleep.

Bleu gave a wry smile while taking her away from Boken. With a huff, he picked up the large girl. Boken looked a wee bit disappointed, visibly red in the face even with the beard.

Bleu left the room calmly, carrying Camallia with both arms. At the doorway, he turned back to Boken.

"I envy you, Boken. You weren't captive to you dreams, you made them come true."

"That's because your dreams are your own. One day, I'm sure you'll write dreams of your own too. When that happens, please show them to me. That's a promise, alright?."

Bleu smiled as proof of their promise, and turned back away from the room.

But, he had nothing to write yet. Both in the past and in the upcoming future, there was only one thing for Sacred Dragons to read, the Manual. That was the duty given to them, and thus also their dream.

Bleu secretly prayed for it to not be a nightmare at least.

7

"Karin, are you still awake? If you are, can you open up for me?" Bleu whispered in front of the door of the room the girls were staying at. His voice was as loud as it could be while still taking care to not wake Camallia up.

"What's the problem?"

Karin opened the door after a while, peeking her head outside. Wearing only her thin nightclothes, she took a look at Camallia hanging limp on Bleu's arms, and made a puzzled face.

"She blacked out from drinking, can you let me put her in bed?" Bleu asked, readjusting Camallia in his arms with another huff.

"I can carry her," Karin answered, looking a little annoyed.

"No, you can't," Bleu's lips quirked slightly. Camallia was not a regular priest, but one trained for combat. She was quite the robust woman. Besides, humans were heavier than they thought, as they hardly ever tried to carry one another.

"If you can manage, of course I can too. Hurry, give her to me." Aggravated, Karin walked out of the room and extended her arms towards Bleu. Stirred by her voice, Camallia, still asleep, rolled over.

Her movement shifted the balance on Bleu's arms too suddenly and he stumbled, as if handing her over to Karin in a clumsy way.

Not ready for it, Karin couldn't handle Camallia's weight, falling backwards.

She made a pathetic noise, "…hnnnngggh…"

Karin massaged the back of her head, her previously droopy eyes now wide open. Maybe she had seen some stars, but that was just for her to know.

"You OK, Karin?" Bleu panicked at the turn of events. His arms were still occupied and slowed him down, as he used his long neck to look behind her head.

"It, it doesn't hurt, at all…" She faked, while small tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Telling him to not worry that much, she pushed his head away.

"Hey, Karin, what are you doing?"

Krin had woken up to the sound of her sister's head hitting the wall.

"It's nothing," Karin answered her half asleep sister, and then whispered to Bleu, "C'mon, bring her inside."

Grumbling that she should have let him do this from the start, Bleu carried Camallia inside the room. Karin walked by his side.

"Oh, whatever."

She bended over to quickly smooth over the mattress. Bleu place the unconscious Camallia down there.

"Finally. Well, I'm off to sleep too. Good night, Karin."

Bleu breathed a sigh of relief, and went to the door.

"Good night, Bleu," she replied as he closed the door.

"Hey, what's going on…" Krin mumbled, unable to see anything in focus without her glasses.

"It's nothing, hurry up and go back to sleep," Karin answered, placing a hand on her forehead and pushing her down onto the bed. She then turned to Camallia over on the next bed. The girl breathed quietly, dead to the world.

"What's the matter?"

Karin slipped into bed with Krin, and pulled the blanket over to her head.

To Chapter 2>

Translation notes:

According to the World Book, Lyle is 204cm tall. The other centaurs listed there range from 185-233cm, so that's a reference you can use to picture Bleu's height, since he unfortunately didn't make it to that book to get an exact one.

Camallia uses the 殿(dono) honorific when referring to Bleu and Karin, which is to my knowledge a very respectful honorific which also implies the person has some sort of high rank. For Krin, she uses only さん (san), a more generic honorific. さん is pretty common in japanese and I often even ignore it in translation since an english honorific might come off as more formal/stiff, but in Camallia's case she is more formal than everybody else so it made sense to call attention to it, while still showing she's treating Krin differently.

Wanna hear me ramble about a guy who didn't even show up? You don't get a choice. Earnest's backstory in the original game is that he comes from a small kingdom neighbor to Runefaust, which was quickly destroyed once Runefaust began expanding. The epilogue in the ASCII guide book implied he went back to rebuild his country, but here the novel claims he became ruler of Uranbatol instead, with the other knights under him as well. So either these things contradict each other, or things didn't go as he planned. I'm enough of a nerd to feel sad that we don't get this kind of reference to his backstory, but the idea of all the guys together is kind of fun too. It might be also worth mentioning that in game, the soldiers he led into Uranbatol did seem to respect him, to the point where they won't let you proceed until you've rescued (if you beat the fort battle defeating first the Hellhound then the Artillery, you won't cross paths with him at first, but the doors to the harbor will be blocked until you talk to him on the other path.)

[reareaotaku]

Hot & Sweaty

Summary: Ford's having a hard time coming to terms with how he feels, so he tries to avoid you... TW/CW: NSFW Themes, [Male] Masturbation Pt I: Enemies 2 Friends to Something More Taglist: @winterhi09, @leo4242564, @walmartjim, @valinbean, @meiraloves2dmen, @bubblegupyy

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine [This is shorter than the first one-]

Ford began avoiding you, not knowing how else to deal with his emotions. He had never had a crush before, so these feelings were foreign to himself. For a man so smart, he couldn't figure out how to handle such intense emotions. He just wanted to push it down and pretend it didn't exist.

He felt rather pathetic avoiding you. You were making it hard for him to attend his classes. God, he wishes he could get you out of your head.

---

You had missed multiple classes, not knowing if you would have to confront Ford. You liked him- Sure, but there was a part of you that thought you would never get anything from him.

He was... different than most men. You liked that. You had never met someone like him, even with his annoyance from before. There was something so different about the way he was and you were fascinated. Sometimes you wondered why a man like him was going to BMU.

---

Ford facepalmed. It had been almost 2 weeks since he had started avoiding his feelings. He was better than this- But just the thought of you made him feel all hot and sweaty.

He had thoughts he had never had before and he tried to rid himself of such things. He couldn't help it- His mind was stronger than he ever gave it credit for.

---

You looked over when Ford usually sat, disappointed that he wasn't there. You hadn't seen him around the campus either, which made you think that he was possibly avoiding you. As the thought occurs to you, your eyes are drawn to Ford's roommate- Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was quick to pack of his stuff, especially when he saw you staring at you. He was hiding something, you could tell. He was quick, but you were quicker; He froze when you cornered him before he was able to leave.

"Oh- Uh, Y/n, I uh, wow. You look nice."

"Cut the act, where's Ford? Is he avoiding me?"

"Uh- What? N-no? I don't- I have to go to class." He tries to go around you, but you block his path.

"Yeah? Last time I checked, your next class isn't till 10. So, we have plenty of time." You step closer to him, causing him to gulp. "What's your room number?"

It didn't take long for you to push it out of him and you were heading to their shared dorm.

---

You tended to avoid the male dorms, because- Well, it was full of college-aged men. They were usually rough housing and fighting each other, while also have tons of old food in their sinks. It was disgusting. Men were disgusting.

You finally came upon his door, before taking a deep breath. You froze for a second, realizing you didn't know what you were going to say to him. You were sure that the words would come to you when you saw him.

You knock on his door, but don't get a respond, so you decide to open the door, but you were quickly stop when seeing Ford with his hand down his boxer and was seemingly jacking off. You quickly slammed the door catching his attention as he yells at you.

"I'm so sorry!" Your face was a dark red as your back was against his door. You couldn't believe your eyes- Much less being caught catching someone else.

"Why are you even here?!" Ford yelled as he quickly got some pants on and leaned against his door. He couldn't believe not only did he have his hands down his pants, but you had caught him- Thankfully he wasn't a big moaner or you would have known he was thinking about you.

---

You sat across from the male, trying to avoid the topic of what had just happened. You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and your tongue was twisted.

When you looked up at him, it seemed he too was at a loss for words. What was he even supposed to say after being caught like a teenage boy?

"So-"

"Don't. Let's not... talk about it." He hums as he taps his finger against the book sitting on his lap.

"Yeah... I mean, sex is a natural thing. You're not to cloud minded to not realize or acknowledge this, are you?"

He looks up at you with a tiny smirk. "Of course not... But," He looks away from you, a light pink dust overtaking his face. "Doesn't make it more embarrassing."

"Well, if it helps you feel better, I've seen a lot worse."

"What are you even doing- No, actually how did you get my room number?"

"I stalked you."

"What?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I asked Fiddleford."

"And he told you?"

"With convincing..."

He hums and you decide to finally ask him the question, so you've been avoiding me?"

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN EIGHT NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

In the rare moments where her thoughts aren't hazy, when she isn't fucked out of her mind, she contemplates her situation, questions it, but whatever vile thing he does to her next, she can't help but realize something: she wants it, wants him, wants to please him, badly. And so, she slowly starts to embrace her new role...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Oral sex/deepthroating. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.6k

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

She should hate him.

Fight him, do anything to not let him get away with all those vile things he's doing to her. In the moment she is usually too overwhelmed to do anything but take it, and afterwards she's too relieved it's over, but there are a few clear moments in that undisclosed time between whatever he plans to do to her next, clear enough moments to gather her thoughts, build them up into that burning bundle of hatred and defiance and the will to get away.

It happens when he carries her limp body to the bathroom, when she squeezes her eyes shut and ignores (tries to ignore) his tight grip, the warm hard chest she's pressed against, the way he holds her, protective almost – yeah, ignoring him is very difficult – and so the moment of wanting to hurt him back slips from her too quickly. But it was there, a tiny instant of thinking through the haze inside her head, those few questions that keep haunting her like little bees buzzing inside her skull.

Why are you allowing this? Why are you still here? Why haven't you even tried to get away, run from this place, from his grasp? Why do you lean into him? Why can't you stop thinking about him? Why? Oh for fuck's sake... why?

And the answers usually come whenever he is nice to her afterwards, caresses her soiled skin, wipes away her tears, holds her close and safe in his strong arms. It's the same thought that rolled through her mind whenever she's seen him in the club, when his eyes accidentally met hers through the crowd. That heat that burnt up then, now soars through her like wildfire, erasing any doubts and fears.

Because she likes him.

In a very twisted, definitely unhealthy sort of way. She likes him, wants him, his attention, his caresses, wants to stare at him, be with him, have him do all these things to her (well, the jury is still out on that part, her innocent mind had not been capable of imagining just what he may do to her). And even after all the pain she's endured and is still feeling, she can't keep these needs down, the wants he told her not to have. But strangely enough they align with his wants, or so she thinks.

So he wants to fuck her on the couch and shove his cock down her throat when he comes, sure, she'll take it, because she wants it too, right? He must know that, he wouldn't be doing it otherwise, right? Right?

It's all a mess inside her head, what she wants, what he wants, how those things compare and blend into each other, how his wants become hers, melting together, and the haze grows, and the hatred fades.

In the end she is that small pliant thing in the shower, legs trembling when he pulls her underwear down, when his fingers brush over her heated skin, when she watches him undress, her eyes moving over shifting muscles and tight skin, the dips and bumps of a strong body, so much taller than her, intimidating and enticing at the same time.

And when he moves her under the spray raining down on them, big hands on her small shoulders, she looks up, closes her eyes when the warm water hits her face, head leaning against his chest as he reaches around her and grabs the bar of soap from the little shelf, lathers it between his hands, arms caging her in, before he moves the suds over her skin.

It's these intimate moments that root her to this place of pain and humiliation, of being his (toy) to use whenever he wants. It's warm and comforting, a soft caress after the rough handling, a balance she needs more than air.

His hands move over her chest, soaping her up, cleaning her, calloused palms rubbing over sensitive skin, fingers teasing and brushing, and she feels how much he's holding back, how his cock twitches, pressed into the dip of her lower back with how close and tall he stands behind her, and she savors these moments of his restraint, where he treats her right no matter how bad he wants to do other things to her.

He continues his lathering gently, big hands running down her arms, lifting them, turning them, testing her limits when he dips his fingers into her armpits, but she's too far gone in her mind to be ticklish, focusing on the good things, the warm touches, inhales the steamy air, forces her head to be empty. When his fingers slip between her legs, she lets out a little gasp, then feels his head next to hers as he leans over, cheek pressed against cheek, rough skin rubbing against soft.

One arm wraps around her middle, holding her, while his other hand moves down her mound, fingers gliding through her slit, fingertips teasing her entrance, but then he pushes against her thighs, nudges them apart, and the soap is back to move down her shaking limbs. He even crouches down behind her, holds her hip, moves his hand down to her ankles, rubs his fingers through her toes.

She holds onto his shoulders when he lifts her feet, one after the other, cradles them in his hands, and this time she flinches when he scrapes his nails over the sole of her foot. His soft exhale of a laugh makes her blush, and when he stands up again, he grabs her chin and lifts her head up, staring down at her before capturing her mouth for a soft kiss that turns into a wilder dance of tongues, her body turned around, pulled against his, one big hand fisting her hair, the other grabbing her rear.

Her arms snake around his body, holding onto hard muscles and slick skin as she leans up on her toes to kiss him back properly. These sweet moments... usually end rather abruptly when he changes his mind all of a sudden. This time he pulls her head back, fingers tight around her hair, eyes dark as he stares down at her. She blinks against the water running into her eyes, breathing harder, not sure what to expect, but in the end he lets go of her and pushes the soap into her hands before he turns around and presents his backside to her.

She smiles as she huffs a sigh of relief, then quickly follows the request and lathers his back, rubs the soap between his shoulder blades, down into the slight dip of his spine, to his lower back, around his sides, vehemently ignoring the tight cheeks of his butt. His hands move around to grab hers, and she's forced to pay attention to them after all, but she focuses on the job at hand, quickly rubbing her hands over his warm skin, follows the curves and edges of his body down his strong legs.

As she's crouching behind him, he slowly turns around, and she looks up, eyes immediately jumping to his throbbing erection mere inches away from her face. She swallows hard, and he tilts his head as he watches her. She moves her soapy hands back up the front of his legs, feels the slight shift of his thigh muscles, then hesitates when she reaches his groin. Eyes flicking up to his, she slowly stands up again and brings her hands closer, her heart beating faster.

As soon as her small hands wrap around his length, he puts his own on top of hers, guiding her movements. She bites her lip and looks down, absorbing the way he handles his cock, wanting to learn, wanting to please him more, better...

Those thoughts come and go as well, of putting her own desires to the side and focusing on him and his pleasure. He already takes what he wants, but she's sure she can make him even prouder of her if she puts in the extra effort to do everything the way he likes it best. And it's not (necessarily) to get praised by him, strangely enough, because that would be her own want, it's just to see him satisfied, to see the tension in his body deflating, to see him smile, make him happy.

It may also be the balled-up fear in the pit of her stomach, the fear of making him angry, displeasing him, disappointing him. He's been rough with her before, but that time he's punished her by fucking his cum back into her ass after she's cleaned out the last load, has only been a hint, a little preview of his anger, she knows it. There's so much more darkness within him, more strength, more power, more violence. And she never wants to experience it. It will break her, mentally and physically, she's absolutely sure.

Eventually he guides her hands away from his hard cock, up his chest, over toned muscles, lathering the soap everywhere she's missed before. She watches him, feeling warm and content – which, of course, only lasts so long as he suddenly turns her around, one hand on her lower back as he bends her forwards a little. She stiffens, breathing harder, swallowing her fear.

His other hand moves along the curve of her rear, dips between her cheeks, fingers closing around the base of the plug. He tugs at it, gently, playing with her tense muscles, warms them up, before he pulls it out, and her relief is mixed with shame as she feels thick globs of cum dripping down her legs, washing away in the drain.

She braces herself on the tiled wall as he starts rubbing his hands over her backside, then grabs the shower head and cleans her off, and she flinches when the harder jet of water hits her tense muscles, but he refrains from cleaning her properly.

When he puts the shower head back, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against him, positions them under the rain shower and lets the soft spray rinse the soap off their bodies. She closes her eyes and relaxes, feels his hands on her, warm and comforting. A strange little moment of peace...

And she should have seen it coming. The sudden change in the atmosphere.

His hand is on her shoulder, turning her around, then pushing her down on her knees in front of him, the spray of the water hitting her back as she blinks up at him. Inhaling deeply, she tries to ignore the sting in her knees, the soreness of her whole body slowly creeping back into the forefront of her mind. But she doesn't wallow in her sorrow, there's no use anyway, she can't fight him, no matter how hard she wishes to in moments like these.

He leans over her to turn the water off, and a sudden cold breeze makes her shiver. When he straightens up again, he looks down at her, and she shivers for a completely different reason. Her eyes rake over his naked body (so tall and intimidating), those shifting muscles when he puts his hands on his hips, the tight skin of his chest, strong arms and legs with veins snaking under his skin, the handsome face, the dark, hungry eyes, wet hair pushed back, water drops gathering on his shoulders, running down in thin rivulets.

She shifts on her knees, moves closer, eyes on his straining cock, standing proud against his lower stomach. Between admiring his restraint and being grateful for it, she licks her lips, raises her hands, but then stops, hovering inches away from grabbing him, her eyes moving back up to him.

He hasn't given her any command, not really. He just pushed her to her knees.

She blinks a few stray water drops out of her eyes. “C-can I –” she starts, quiet, her voice still raw from his earlier demands.

He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “Yes? Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice deep, vibrating through the tiled room, sinking into her mind, igniting something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Can I...” she tries again, inhaling deeply. “Can I... s-suck your... your cock?” she asks, voice shaking badly, feeling nervous. As if he would deny her this.

“Can you?”

He's mocking her. Prolonging the humiliation she feels for even asking such a thing. But she remains on her knees, looking up, practically begging him to do this – and there's not a single thought in her mind that finds this very disturbing. It feels natural. He's hard, she's here to take care of that, isn't she? That's her purpose after all.

“May I?” she rephrases, biting her lip, her hands gingerly reaching out to touch his strong thighs. “May I please suck your cock?” The words leave her without revision, they just tumble out of her mouth, while she looks deep into his eyes, focused on him, feeling his skin beneath her palms, and that hot thing in her stomach growls in some sort of need.

He extends a hand and puts it on her head, caresses her wet hair. “Yes, you may,” he says and smiles softly down at her, though there is a glint in his eyes, a hint of the darkness. He keeps his hand on her head, heavy but also strangely comforting, as she shifts on her knees, sits up more, one hand gingerly closing around his hard length before she bends it carefully towards her to bring the tip to her lips.

It's strange to be this gentle with the very thing that brought her so much pain, that stretched and bruised her, punished and deflowered her, choked and soiled her, that, despite everything, felt so good inside her... She closes her eyes and swallows, her lips brushing against his warm skin. His scent, overpowered by the smell of soap, fills her nostrils, his presence fills her head.

He's done so many things to her, with his cock, his hands, his mind, and none of it matters as she kneels in front of him, on her sore knees, fingers closing tighter around his base, as she opens her mouth and closes her lips around his tip, tongue flicking lazily around the spongy flesh, his taste hits her with a force that makes her dizzy.

She wants this. She's asked for it. This is all on her.

His hand moves through her wet hair, gathers it between his fingers, twists it, holds it tighter as she starts moving her head back and forth, hollowing her cheeks, sucking on him hard and with a passion that surprises herself. He's grounding himself by gripping her hair, but he doesn't guide her head.

She feels his muscles shifting under the hand she braced on his thigh, he's holding back, his breaths becoming slightly rougher when she starts twisting her hand around his length, in tandem to the bobbing of her head, moving his tight skin over his hardened core, up and down, while she pushes his tip deeper into her mouth, not too deep, but inch by inch she dares to taste more of him.

Her head feels empty, her sole focus lies on pleasuring him, on feeling and hearing his noises, those little grunts and groans that mix with the loud slurping sounds she creates as she moves faster, strains her lips around him tighter, sucks harder, strokes him firmer. He was already hard when she started, now he's throbbing, basically vibrating with how the blood pumps through the bulging veins that rub along her tongue.

She breathes loudly through her nose, completely lost in the task, her mouth filled with spit and precum, and she doesn't even care what a mess she's become as it starts dripping down her chin and onto her chest. She licks around him, sucks, scrapes her tongue along the underside, pushes him deeper, dares to let him hit the back of her throat, but it's an instinct that she pulls back before she triggers her gag reflex.

A louder groan echoes through the tiled room, and the grip of his hand around her hair tightens, but he still doesn't do anything else, he just stands there, tall and strong, only the slightest of shivers in his legs, and lets her do her thing, gives her time to explore him, find her own pace.

Her eyes flutter open when she leans back a little, his tip heavy and swollen on her tongue, and looks up at him. His gaze is dark, his face a stoic mask, jaw clenched, but he watches her closely. She takes a deep breath, her heart thundering inside her chest, her knees shaking, but something like determination fills her stomach, hot and expanding, and while he looks at her, she opens her mouth a little wider and leans closer, looking up from under her lashes, more of his cock sliding into her mouth, tip hitting the back of her throat, and she braces herself, clenches up, then relaxes, and feels him sliding deeper.

As soon as he does, she squeezes her eyes shut, feels them watering, her hand digging into his thigh, but she keeps going, forces herself onward, him deeper, despite the overwhelming urge to gag or breathe or do anything but let him deeper into her throat. Her body shudders, she can't fight the uncontrollable twitch as she does gag after all, but she still holds him there, his cock in her throat, her chin brushing against his balls, nose almost pressed against his tight skin, those curly hairs tickling in her nostrils, while tears stream down her cheeks and her head feels both full and empty at the same time, her lungs burn, her whole being battles the sensation that shouldn't be.

His cock deep down her throat.

It's him that pulls her back and off him, and she gasps deeply, splutters and coughs, head lowered, spit dripping from her mouth as she takes hectic gulps of air. But there is something in her that makes her look back up, her hands moving towards his cock, grabbing it, wanting to continue. His hand finds her chin.

“Take it easy,” he says quietly, voice strained, but somewhat soft.

She swallows hard, nods, focuses back on closing her lips around his tip and sucking him deeper. Her hands twist and turn his skin as she resumes the bobbing of her head, and she feels him throbbing under her palms, more precum leaking onto her tongue and down her throat. His breaths are rougher, his hand back in her hair, his muscles shifting. She keeps going.

He pulls her back again when she feels him twitching, and it's an instinct, a normal thing, that she leans back a little, hands falling onto her lap, and opens her mouth wide with her tongue out flat, looking up at him, waiting for him to come on her face. He grips his cock hard, his big hand pumping it with expertise, his tip resting between her lips. His eyes are almost black, his face so tense, his nostrils flaring.

As soon as the first spurt hits her tongue, she closes her lips around his tip and sucks, her small hand curling around his, and he groans, strokes himself as he shoots load after load into her mouth, filling her cheeks until they're bulging, but she doesn't dare to swallow yet, keeps it hot and heavy on her tongue. He finishes with a grunt, tilting his head back, his throat working, the tension of his body falling from him with a deep shiver.

Pulling his cock from between her tight lips, he looks down at her, and she looks back, slowly opening her mouth, showing him what he gave her. He licks his lips and nods. “Swallow,” he says hoarsely, and she does, big gulps, savoring his taste, until it is all gone, which she shows him with a strange feeling of pride settling inside her. He watches her darkly, still gripping his cock, before he brings it back to her face. “Clean,” he whispers, and she's already on it the moment his tip brushes against her lips.

She sucks the last drops out of his slit, flicks her tongue around him, laps at his softening length, her head still empty, her only focus on him. Finishing her ministrations the way she has started them, with a kiss to his tip, she then leans away, reluctantly letting go of his cock, watching it bobbing gently before it settles in that semi-hard, semi-flaccid state against his thigh.

His hand is on her head, fingers digging into her hair, a gentle gesture. “Good girl,” he says quietly, his thumb finding her bottom lip. “That was really good...”

She smiles up at him, a sudden warmth spreading within her, and it's not his cum settling in her stomach, mixing with the other loads he's given her before. It's a strange kind of satisfaction, knowing that she's pleased him properly. He hooks his hand under her elbow and helps her to her feet, she feels shaky, grabs his arm for support, leans into him. He lets her and guides her out of the shower.

Slowly she comes back to her senses as the colder air of the bathroom crawls up her naked legs. Wiping at her mouth, she takes deep breaths, fighting the shaking of her hands, the trembling of her legs. He hands her a towel, and she starts drying off, her eyes staying on him as he does the same. It's one of those weird domestic moments, coming out of the shower together, cleaning up, his tall frame next to her smaller one in front of the vanity, their shapes blurred behind the fogged-up mirror.

His hand is on her shoulder, brushing her hair away. She turns to him, inhaling deeply, tilting her head as his fingers trace up along her pulse, over the marks he left, that little throbbing sensation right beneath her skin. It sends shivers down her spine when he touches them, and it makes her heart beat faster when he leans down to place his lips on them. She stiffens, breaths quickening, her arms by her sides while his hands move over her body with confidence, from her nape down to her lower back, from her thigh up to her breasts.

He kisses and explores her, so gentle she is simply surprised by the gesture, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how soft he can be despite being so strong and tall and intimidating. And she feels small, weak, insignificant, just a body standing in the middle of the bathroom, his bathroom, unsure what to do. He takes what he wants, and she's not allowed to have wants, but her own burn deep within her stomach, and lower, between her legs, under his hands, under his mouth, in the wake of his kisses and touches.

A little sigh escapes her, a quiver through her body, and her hand twitches. He's nibbling on her earlobe, teeth teasing, warm tongue licking along her skin, his hands on her waist, slowly pulling her towards him, into him, and she moves her hand and touches his stomach, fingertips scraping over hard muscles, moving over tight skin, around his side, up his back. She's held onto him before, but this feels more intimate, raw, a need she wants to scratch even though she isn't supposed to.

He presses his lips to her collarbone, and her hand is in his hair, digging through it, feeling the wet soft thickness of it, the warm skin, hard scalp, and the shiver that runs through him at the touch. She inhales deeply, takes in the steam in the air, the warmth of him. Her head is spinning. He leans up, her hand slips from his hair, falls to her side, their eyes meet.

She blinks, biting her lip. His eyes are almost black with how his pupils are dilated, that darkness burns inside them, a hunger for more. His tongue moves between his teeth as he exhales loudly through his nose. Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and hooks his hands behind her knees, grabs her thighs and hoists her up easily. Her hands find his shoulders, shifting muscles under her palms as he wraps her legs around his waist, hands under her rear now.

Her fingers slip around his neck, teasing at the hair in his nape, moving higher. She can't help herself, he feels too nice. He watches her, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. She keeps chewing on her lips, they feel raw and swollen, but she doesn't care, her entire focus is still on him, how he holds her against his hard body, strong hands supporting her so effortlessly.

There is nothing dominating about the situation, nothing to be afraid of, no pain to expect, he's just holding her, watching her, immobile, while she fights the urge to dig her fingers into his hair – until she just does it, follows her own want and touches his hair, massages his scalp. The involuntary shiver that shakes his big body makes her smile, a soft little twitch of her lips as she lets her eyes wander over his handsome face.

He stares at her, takes a deep breath, and suddenly he's walking out of the bathroom, and before she can even comprehend what's happening, he puts her down on the bed, he doesn't throw her, or dumps her there unceremoniously, he gently places her down before he crawls over her, braced on his hands and knees, caging her in, and looks down at her. She's shivering, anticipation crashing through her.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers hoarsely, clenching his jaw.

She bites her lip. “I... I don't want anything...” she replies quietly, remembering his rules.

He shakes his head. “But you do, I know it. You can tell me.” His voice is that low thrum in the air, deep and demanding, vibrating through her very bones.

“I...” She inhales deeply. “I want to... touch you...”

His eyebrows rise up. “Baby, you just touched me, you had my cock in your throat, your hands on me.” He tilts his head. “Where else do you want to touch me?”

“Everywhere,” slips out of her without much thought, a simple need falling over her lips. He huffs a laugh. “May I?” she whispers, and even though the lines on his forehead deepen, he nods.

Her hands move quick, almost on their own. First they brush against his chest, then up his neck to cup his face. She feels him clenching his jaw under her touch, his eyes intense but curious at the same time. Her fingers trace along the hard edges of his jaw, up to his cheekbones and over his eyebrows, to his temples, trailing his hairline. An innocent exploration that makes her cheeks burn up the more she touches him, the longer he watches her without doing or saying anything.

For him to allow this, feels almost strange, it's too intimate, too gentle, too much the opposite of what he has done to her. He's this big man leaning over her, a dark shadow taking up her entire vision, he's all she sees, and her small hands move over his face as if she's trying to tame the angry beast. Soft touches, fingertips tapping against skin, easing along creases, brushing over his nose, trailing around his lips.

"My turn?" There's a little tilt to his voice, almost like a question, but it's not. He doesn't ask, he takes what he wants. And still he waits for her to lower her hands.

She does, a little hesitantly, but he's patient for once. Her hands slip between his arms braced next to her shoulders, fingertips brushing against his knees, as she looks up at him with her chest rising and falling faster. He leans down, his body still mostly only hovering over her, that warm big entity, a weight she knows and wants, but he keeps his distance, arching his back as he brings his face closer to hers.

His breath ghosts her tingling lips, mingling with hers. She feels lightheaded, the anticipation gripping her almost a little too painfully. And when he brushes his lips against hers, a soft, gentle touch, she lets out the air she's been holding in a low little mewl. She feels him smiling against her mouth before he deepens the touch, lets his tongue glide over her bottom lip, then over her upper lip, then finally between them, slipping into her mouth as if he belongs there.

She lets him in, meets him with a needy push of her own tongue, and he sucks on it softly, a warm and wet sensation, a flutter in her stomach that turns into something bigger, hotter, burning its way lower until the throbbing makes her hips buck beneath him. The kiss is slow, still hungry and demanding. He captures her mouth as if he wants to devour her, and she moves against him in the same way, quickly mirroring the motions.

Her own wants flare up, melting with his, becoming one. Just kissing him, tasting him, his tongue and lips and mouth and his entire being pressed to her own, it feels like a dream, a strange little escape after everything that happened between them, that he made her do, that he forced on her. This, for once, feels right, and she wants it.

And as if he seems to feel how much she's enjoying herself, he leans back and breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open, a pout on her swollen lips, wet and warm with the ghost of his kisses. He smirks at her, winking at her, before he moves his head down again, pressing chaste kisses to her chin, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She exhales loudly, melting into the soft bed, closing her eyes as she lets him explore her once more.

He settles between her breasts before he shifts on top of her, sliding back, braced on his elbows, body still hovering over her, but closer, warmer. His hands tease at her sides, long fingers brushing against her small mounds. She stifles a gasp when she feels him closing his warm mouth around one of her peaks, his tongue flicking against her nipple, licking around it, and she can't help it, she arches her chest into his touch.

One of his big hands comes to lie heavy on the other breast, kneading, groping gently, palm pressing down hard enough she feels a little sting. Her eyes flutter open, and she watches him breathlessly, her own hands clawing at the sheets. His gaze wanders up, dark and intimidating as she meets it, hard despite the soft movements of his lips against her flesh, making her shiver deeply. He gives her bud a little suck, and she lets out a quiet moan, which encourages him to do it again, and again, until she squirms beneath him, breathing harder.

He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, leaving the nipple hard and aching, before he switches it up and focuses on the other, his mouth once again closing around the peak, giving it the same ministrations. His hand cups the wet one, palm pressing into it, rubbing over her bud, up and down, before he slides his fingers over her and teases it between them. She gasps again, and downright squeals quietly and jerks against him when he pinches the sensitive nipple between his fingertips.

A deep rumble vibrates through her chest when he laughs against her breast, continuing to lick and suck and nibble on her with a hunger that's on the verge of being cute if it wouldn't feel a little painful. But somehow she's leaning into it. After all, pain has become a part of whatever he does to her, it's always there, and somehow, she needs it to be there now to counteract all the cotton in her head that makes her dizzy.

She's breathing heavier once he's done with her tender tits, the flesh reddened and wet, peaks hard and swollen, so sensitive a simple puff of air makes her flinch. He teases her a little more, blowing against her skin, before he finally moves on, shifting on top of her again, bringing his lips to her fluttering stomach, planting soft little kisses on it until he licks broad strokes over her abdomen, lapping at her, tasting the sweat that's sure to linger there. She feels hot all over, almost exhausted, and she hasn't moved an inch since he put her down on the bed.

His hands move along her sides, and he leans up, watching her, slowly nudging her legs apart as he settles between them, that big shadow kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with dark eyes, ready to devour her even more. She sits up slightly, leaning on her elbows, licking her lips as she watches him with her chest heaving. He doesn't push her back down, he only hooks his arms around her legs and brings his face down, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin, cooling when it hits the slick that's been gathering between her thighs.

Despite everything that's happened, how intently he's explored her body thus far, she feels highly embarrassed when he starts bringing his lips to her aching core, a strange thing between shame and self-consciousness, when he starts kissing her lower lips like he's kissed her mouth before, his tongue skimming along her slit, licking up and down, dipping between her folds, lapping up the wetness seeping from her.

She slumps down onto her back again and hides her face behind her hands, issuing noises ranging from quiet mewls to mortified whines, when he starts to suck her skin between his lips, really going down on her eagerly clenching cunt. He teases his tongue against her entrance, pokes at it, pressing a little deeper, but when she bucks her hips into his face, he retreats, and she sighs.

His amused huff of a laugh is a deep vibration against her center, a warm breeze hitting her clit, and seconds later, his tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicks it, prods it, before he closes his lips around it and sucks hard.

She cries out, her thighs twitching in his hold, body arching off the bed a little. He tightens his arms around her legs, pushes her down, his breaths hard and rough as he resumes his assault on her nub. Not to squirm against him is impossible at this point, and she writhes, fights the sensations, gasping and moaning and wailing, her voice raw and hoarse.

Her stomach tenses, hands falling from her face to grip the sheets, and when she feels his teeth teasing her overstimulated clit, she jerks her hips up and screams shrilly as she feels the tension exploding inside her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, inhaling sharply, a deep intense gasp that only lets air in and not out, she floats, there's no other word for it, her head is full of a quickly expanding nothingness, there's no worry, no pain, just a blissful void.

He grounds her by continuing his ministrations, keeping his mouth leeched on to her wet cunt, lapping up whatever seeps out of her. He's grunting against her, loud breaths through his nose, his tongue that hot eager muscle that keeps her afloat, keeps her sensitive, keeps her wailing and whining as it dips into her hole, pressing deeper, doing things she had no idea a tongue could do.

She's completely out of it, held in that state of floating right above the edge, pulled back only to be pushed over it again, and again, and again, until all she can do is shiver and shudder, a boneless mess writhing on the sheets, slick from sweat, his saliva and her own juices. Head empty.

Oh head so deliciously empty...

Time must have passed, she isn't sure. Her eyes flutter open, and she's still this pliant body on the bed, immobile, but no longer held down, alone to be exact. Sitting up slowly, her limbs barely functioning, she looks around, before she flinches when she hears his footsteps to her right. He walks out of the closet, wearing running shoes and a tight shirt and formfitting but still loose sweatpants, in the middle of zipping up a matching hoodie.

He approaches the bed, this intimidating shadow looming over her, watching her. She licks her lips, blinking slowly when he sits down on the edge and extends a hand towards her, gently caressing her cheek.

“I'm going for a run,” he tells her quietly, eyes boring into hers. “Be a good girl and rest now, okay?”

Something hot swirls through her stomach, and she nods. “Yes, sir,” she whispers barely audible, watching him smile as he leans in to press his lips to her forehead.

“Don't explore, I'll know if you do,” he adds when he leans back, standing up, his voice low and dark, causing her to shiver. “If you get bored, you know what I keep in that drawer.” She frowns as he tilts his head towards the nightstand, before she blushes deeply and nods, looking away.

He moves his fingers over her leg as he walks around the bed. She rolls onto her side and watches him. He gives her a wink and leaves the bedroom. There's a quiet clicking sound, and she knows he's locked her in. And somehow it's that noise that wakes her up fully. Her heart starts thundering inside her chest as panic settles in.

Locked up. Taken. Forced to do things she never fully agreed to.

Why it hits her now after she's just experienced the best orgasms of her life, she has no idea. Must be that clarity that comes afterwards. It is one of these clear moments as she sits up slowly, grabbing at her chest, mindlessly pulling the covers around her while she stares ahead blankly.

Is this her life now? Or will he let her go once he's done? Will he ever be done? She's his to use whenever he wants, he's made that perfectly clear, so why would he let her go anytime soon? It's her role, her purpose, to... be used, to serve him, to be this body full of holes he can fill up however he wants.

And yet there is something else. She's more to him than that, isn't she? Would he bother eating her out otherwise? Giving her these amazing releases? Unless he's gaining something from it too, which he probably does, though. He's a selfish man, so much she knows by now. But he's let her rest, even though he was definitely hard when he gave her that extra attention (her body still shivers just remembering it all), yet instead of releasing the tension with her, inside her, he's going running?

She must mean more to him. And maybe him locking her up, is a sign of protectiveness, keeping her safe and sound, giving her the simple task to rest and relax (and possibly play with herself if she gets bored which she knows she won't, the thought alone makes her shudder in the worst way). It's almost a gift after all the things he made her do. To do nothing.

Inhaling deeply, she cuddles into the covers, closing her eyes. Rest does sound pretty good right about now.

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

End notes: This might have been the softest chapter yet, or maybe the first where she's finally fully embraced her new role as his little plaything? Whatever it was, it was fun to write, a nice change to all the unprediactable stuff he's usually up to. (But don't worry, he won't tone it down any time soon...)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[ewansnose]

34+35

Michael Gavey x Reader!Fem

summary: You need help with math and your best friend suggests getting help from your classmate Michael Gavey.

WARNING: smutt, a little cuteness, hanging, finger twisting, unprotected p/v sex, oral sex (f receiving), spitting, and a lot of slutty. Be happy 🫶

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! i will block you immediately.

English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The days at Oxford University weren't easy for you. The semester was about to end and you hadn't achieved the required grade in one of the subjects in your course. You spent day and night studying the content, but it never seemed to get into your head. You were a person who was easily distracted, if a fly landed on your book you would look at it and stare at it until you remembered what you were doing and went back to studying. The hours in the college library and the late nights in his room weren't working, nothing was working.

You definitely needed help.

“— Y/n, you need to ask someone for help. Math doesn’t enter your mind and you need that grade.”

You had your head down on the patio table, muttering about how useless and stupid you were.

“—Talk to Michael, he can-“

"- NO!"

You shouted with wide eyes, catching the attention of the other students around you. His cheeks turned red when he realized he was receiving attention and he laid his head back on the table.

“— I can’t ask him for help.”

"- Why not? Just because you're attracted to him doesn't mean his help isn't worth it to you.”

“—That’s exactly the problem, Riley.” You lifted your head and faced your best friend and roommate. “— He will distract me.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “— Everything distracts you, y/n. Absolutely anything. Your test is in a week and you can't study, give him a chance.”

You raised your head and leaned back in the chair, biting your lip, then huffing.

“—Okay, I'll talk to him. Well, I'll try to talk to him, since he and Oliver don't sit still.”

“— Well...you can try your luck now, the big boy is entering the courtyard alone.”

Your eyes widened and you placed your palms on the table, shaking your head at Riley.

“—Don’t even think about-“

“—Michael! Michael Gavey! Oliver's grunt! Can you come here quickly?”

Your cheeks heated up again and you wanted to choke your best friend. You heard the footsteps approaching your desk and tried to maintain your posture, trying to keep your slight attraction to Michael from ruining everything. You sighed as his soft scent entered your nostrils and looked to the side only to see him with a small smile on his thin lips.

“—What do you want from me, Riley?”

Her voice, how you liked it. Whenever he started talking in the classes you shared, you stopped what you were doing just to listen to him. The accent, the soft yet thick tone, the way he always smiled when he spoke. You would do anything to be able to hear his voice in your ear, just for you as he squeezes your-

“— Isn’t that right, y/n?”

You shook your head and frowned.

"- What?"

Riley rolled her eyes and kicked her leg under the table.

“—I was talking to Michael about helping you with the material.”

“—Oh! Yes, yes, I…I’m having trouble, some help would be nice.” You finally looked at him, noticing that his glasses were on top of his head, making him even more handsome. “— But if you can’t, there’s no problem, I can do my best and-“

“—I don’t mind helping.” he cut you off. “— I don’t have much to do until next semester, since I passed my classes. When is your test?”

“—Next week, Tuesday.”

He nodded, taking out his cell phone and handing it to you.

“— Write down your number, we can see when you will be available to study and decide on a meeting point.”

“— She’s always available, cute.” Riley winked at him and he put a smile on the corner of his lips.

“— I’m available at any time you are too. This matter is my priority.” You typed your number into your cell phone and gave it back to him.

He analyzed the number and typed something, his cell phone then beeping with a message.

“— I sent you a message to let you know it’s me. Then we’ll talk later, okay?”

You smiled and nodded. Michael got up from the table and put his cell phone in his pocket, putting his glasses on his face.

“— Save my number, I’ll message you soon.”

He pulled away and you could finally breathe normally again. You returned the kick you received from Riley, hearing a grunt in response.

“— I can’t believe you did that, what a shame.”

“— I give you a chance to finally be alone with the hot nerd and this is how you thank me? I need to start reviewing my friendships.”

His eyes rolled playfully and you got up from the table, grabbing your bag.

“— I'm going to take the books from my room and return them to the librarian before she kills me. You will stay?"

“—I’m going to meet Travis in a bit.”

“—Riley…”

“— We’re sorting things out, okay? We agreed that we would do it slowly this time.”

His eyebrows arched.

“— It’s okay, just…don’t let him make a fool of you again or I’ll finish him off.” You walked around the table and kissed your best friend's forehead. “— I’ll send you a message.”

You left the courtyard and headed to the dormitory blocks, going to yours and taking the calculus books, putting them in your bag and heading to the library. You left the books with the librarian and checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was time for your last class of the day. Before you could put it in your pocket, it beeped with a message.

“Did you save my number? I hope so! I thought we could study a little tonight, what do you think? It's good for you?"

You bit your lip and responded quickly.

"It's great! You can find me at-“

You stopped typing to think. It wouldn't be a good idea to take him to your dorm, not with your conditions, it would be too distracting to imagine the things you could do in your bed.

“Can you meet me at the library later? I’m going to my last class now and then I’ll be free.”

His response didn't take long.

“In the library at…8? The librarian doesn’t mind leaving the key with me, I’ve spent the night alone in the library.”

"Perfect. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.”

"Anxious."

You bit back a small smile and put your phone away, realizing that you were about to be late for class and rushed to class, thinking about the night of studying with Michael.

[…]

You had sent a message to Michael to let him know that you had left class and were going to the library, he didn't respond back and you were afraid that he had forgotten and left you waiting alone in the library, but that didn't happen. When you arrived, Michael was talking to the librarian, a woman in her 60s. She caught their attention as she approached, and the lady handed Michael a key.

“— Don’t forget to lock it, if something happens here I’ll lose my job.”

“— Let’s not forget, Monica. You can watch your soap opera in peace.”

Monica patted Michael's arm and gave you a small smile, picking up her things and leaving the place, closing the door. Leaving the two of you alone and in silence.

Their eyes met and their cheeks automatically burned, and Michael noticed this as a smile appeared on the corner of his lips.

“— I picked some books before you arrived, I thought if we stopped to look it would take a while.”

"- No problem." you smiled.

"- He comes."

He placed his hands in the side pockets of his pants and began walking to one of the tables with you following him. You left your bag on the floor and picked up your materials, placing them on the table while he opened one of the books.

“— It’s going to be a long night, I hope you don’t have commitments tomorrow morning.” He said in a joking tone.

“— I had to cancel some super important commitments, but I think they can wait.” You joined in, earning a low chuckle from him.

You crossed your legs and started paying attention to what he was saying, trying not to get distracted by whatever was trying to distract you, especially him.

Hours had passed since the two of you started studying, and you were exhausted. Not only exhausted, but apprehensive, since even with Michael's explanations, mathematics didn't seem to want to enter her head.

“— …so you need to add 34+35 together with the root of 2 and…Hey, how are you? Do you want to take a break? Am I explaining too quickly? I can try to lower the-“

"- No! It's okay, I just…” you sighed “— I just don't think I'll be able to take this test. Mathematics doesn't enter my head at all. I’m wasting your time, I’m sorry.”

Michael frowned and got up from his chair, going to his side and placing his hand on your shoulder, gently caressing the area.

“— It’s okay, don’t worry. I also had a lot of difficulty when I was younger.”

You laughed nasally. "- I doubt it."

"- Do not believe me? I'm serious!" Michael laughed. “— You know…you should relax. If you stay tense like that, you won’t be able to concentrate.”

“— And how would I relax? Smoking a joint?” You let out a laugh, staring into his face.

“— A joint is good every now and then.” he wet his lips “— But I wasn’t talking about that.”

“—Hmm. And what would you suggest, Michael?”

Michael's free hand rested on your pant-clad leg, his fingers running up and down the thick fabric. You felt your breath hitch, and his eyes dropped to stare at his thin lips.

“—Michael…”

“—Ask me to stop.” he whispered while wetting his lips “— If you ask…I’ll stop and we’ll go back to studying.”

His noses brushed against each other, their breaths coming together.

"- It says…"

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes moving up and down his face.

"- Screw this."

You broke the distance by pressing your lips to his, your hands cupping his face, your finger caressing his soft skin. His hand went up to his waist while the other held his neck, their tongues intertwining with each other. Michael pressed his hand on his neck, his mouth opened a little due to the lack of air and you could feel the smile on his lips. His nimble fingers went to the buttons on his pants, quickly undoing them before he entered the fabric with his fingers, touching her pussy through her panties.

“— You’ll be good to me, won’t you y/n?” his lips trailed across his jaw, biting the flesh of his neck “— So good…”

He swirled his fingers around your covered pussy, making you let out a sly moan. You could feel his smile on his skin as he kissed and nibbled on his neck. You grabbed the side of the chair and hooked your free fingers into the blonde strands of his hair, pulling them tight when he pressed his fingers there.

He pulled away and held your pants by the sides, making you lift your hips so he could lower your clothes a little, taking your panties with him. He separated his legs, leaving them wide open for him to have access to. Michael moaned in satisfaction at the sight of his pussy glistening, her fluid wetting his eager fingers.

“— Is that all for me?”

"- Shut up…"

Michael bit his lip and got up from his chair, moving the books away from the center of the table.

“—Sit on it.” you gave him a look of confusion “—Trust me.”

You did as he asked and sat on the table, letting Michael completely remove your pants. He spread her legs wide, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, then kneeling down. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched his every movement.

His lips trailed down each of his thighs, his eyes never leaving his. Michael ran his nose over your pussy, creating some friction, making you shudder a little from the contact. He let out a small laugh, the cold air coming into contact with his wetness.

"- You need to relax."

Michael completely engulfed her pussy, his tongue swirling around her pleasure point. He sucked and rolled his tongue all over your flesh, eliciting desperate moans from you. The sounds got louder as Michael sucked and licked you, making you cover his mouth. He pulled away and removed your hand from your face, giving you a small kiss before kneeling again and lightly slapping your pussy.

“— I want to listen to you. We are alone, don’t hide.”

Michael penetrated you with a finger, taking you by surprise, taking him to his spot inside your tight pussy, adding a second finger afterwards. His moans became loud just as he had asked, and they increased more when he used his mouth again, speaking against her pussy, bringing vibrations to her.

“—Michael…by God.”

His legs shook and trapped Michael's face between them. He ran his free hand up her stomach to one of his breasts, squeezing it hard through his t-shirt. His fingers moved in and out at an absurd speed, driving you into a frenzy. You brought your fingers to his hair and pulled hard when you felt yourself reaching his peak, closing your eyes tightly and feeling weak. You came with a scream, moaning his name loudly, echoing through the library. His legs slowly opened and he got up from the floor, running his hand over his face and wiping away the traces of fluids. He grabbed your chin and kissed you desperately, holding your face tightly.

“— The days I spent watching you. The days I spent watching you walk around in your provocative clothes.” he mumbled against your lips, his glasses fogged up, rubbing his erection against your bare pussy. “You're going to pay for every dirty night I spent jerking myself off. My y/n…my sweet girl.”

You listened in silence, shocked by his words, his confession. That made you want him even more, and you wanted him like hell.

“— I’ve wanted you for so long, Michael.” you pushed your hips towards him, wanting more contact “— Please…”

He bit his bottom lip and smiled.

"- Please what?"

You swallowed hard.

“— Please fuck me. I want to feel you. I want to feel all of you.”

Michael smiled and opened her mouth with his finger, lifting her chin and leaving it wide open, pouring some saliva onto her tongue. You swallowed without hesitation, making him proud with your attitude.

“—My good girl.”

His voice was calm and low, just so you could hear, even if you were alone in the library. He unzipped his pants and freed his fat dick, spraying the precum from the tip. Michael passed the tip between her already lubricated lips again, playing with the tip at her entrance.

“— I’m clean. I want to feel you."

He smiled and hugged your waist, pulling your body closer to the edge of the table, positioning his cock at your entrance, entering slowly. You both moaned softly when he entered completely, filling you. He left and came back again, coming in harder this time. You put your hands behind you, supporting yourself on the table as he moved slowly.

Michael lifted her black shirt, her breasts being exposed to him this time. His lips captured one of them, nibbling and sucking on the nipple as he moved inside you, his moan making your chest vibrate. With his other hand he squeezed her other breast tightly, pulling her nipple between his fingers. You caught his fingers in your blonde locks, pulling them every now and then with a certain force.

“— Such a good girl for me…so tight. Fuck, I'm going to fill you with my cum. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His eyes closed as he gripped your waist tightly, his nails digging into your flesh. Michael moved in and out desperately, with brutal force. His body swayed, his chest rose and fell and his moans filled the library as well as the wet noise of his hips brutally colliding.

Michael stared at his body, completely entranced by the beautiful sight in front of him. Sweat running down the side of his neck, your hair sticking a little to his face. It was a sight he had imagined for a long time, but even better. He looked around and remembered that there was a shelf behind him, an idea came into his head. Gavey pulled you onto his lap and you gave him a confused look that soon became clear when you realized where he was taking you. His back hit the shelf, and before you could say anything, Michael was back fucking you, your face hidden in his neck as you screamed for him. His back hurt from the shelf, but at that moment you didn't care about the pain, but rather the pleasure. Michael caressed her pearl as he continued penetrating, her pussy clenching around his dick.

“— You’re coming, huh? Come on, baby, spill on my dick. My good, beautiful girl.”

You were losing consciousness. His eyes rolled back and you closed them tightly, screaming and cumming on his dick, becoming completely soft. Michael held you tightly, fucking you harder and harder, his mouth attached to your ear, your moans becoming more and more breathless. He gave one last thrust before his cum filled you completely, the hot, thick fluid being completely dumped inside you.

Michael laid his head on his shoulder as he tried to control his breathing, you ran your fingers along the back of his neck, caressing the hairs in the area. He lifted his face and dragged his nose down her cheek before kissing her lips slowly this time, stroking her tongue. Gavey pulled out of you, a sigh leaving both your lips at the lack of contact. He sat you down on the chair and picked up your panties and pants from the floor, helping you put them on and getting dressed afterwards. The two of you were silent, but not an uncomfortable silence. His eyes met each other's eyes and he smiled, placing his glasses on his head.

“—We made a mess.” you said and let out a laugh, being joined by Michael.

“— Yes, we did. But that’s okay, we’ll fix it.” You nodded.

Michael got up and closed the books, taking them back to the shelves while you put your materials in your bag. You bit your lip and quickly smiled.

“— Are you ready to go?”

You nodded and got up from the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The two of you headed to the exit of the library, where Michael locked it and kept the key in a small hiding place for Mrs. Monica to find the next day.

“— Can I take you to your dorm?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“— You don’t need it, it’s close by and-”

In fact, you wanted to. I wanted him to accompany you, I wanted him to stay.

“— You will go back to yours alone.”

He put his hands in his pants pocket and shrugged.

"- Yes I will. Unless you invite me to spend the night in your dorm. You know… I might get kidnapped on my way to the men's block, I don't know…”

You smiled at each other and then laughed. You approached him and cupped his face, leaving a light kiss on his lips.

“—Riley won’t be sleeping in the dorm today, if you’re interested.”

Michael hugged his waist and caressed his face with his other hand.

“— You can be sure that I am very interested. Maybe we can continue to study what the result would be like if we added 34+35 and took the root of-“

You rolled your eyes and cut him off by kissing his lips once again, laughing against them.

“—We know what the result is.”

“—We definitely know.”

[good-beanswrites]

I wonder where Mahiru got the idea for "A Different Kind of Love". I'd say it's Amane because I'm biased. But more likely, Mahiru saw little acts of love from everyone, and she realized that romantic love isn't all there is to it.

Drabble request? *twiddles fingers* Or if not, headcanons work too.

Ough I was crying through that whole chapter, it was really beautiful ;--; (Haha, I'm biased and think it'd come from Fuuta! but) I ended up writing something with Amane and found a really sweet idea to run with. They both just want to teach one another...

“It’s not scary at all, because it’s love.” Amane gave a decisive nod, pleased with her explanation. She’d been at a loss for words lately, weighed down with exhaustion and pain, so it was nice to finally feel like she was articulating herself well. 

That is, until she got a look at the horror painted across Mahiru’s face.

“I… I’m not sure…” She shifted uncomfortably. “That doesn’t sound… quite like love.”

It was understandable that Mahiru wouldn’t understand. Amane had heard the way she talked. More importantly, Amane had heard how the others talked about her. Mahiru had a very rigid view of love. She wasn’t a narrow-minded person like some others here, but she certainly had some work to do in that area. 

Amane took a breath. She’d grown tired of trying to teach these sinful adults anything, but Mahiru was always a good listener. 

“Not all love is shown in the same way. A strong bond requires respect. Discipline.”

Mahiru still didn’t look convinced. Her smile seemed forced on her lips. She tugged absently on one of her colorful earrings. “I know love comes in all shapes and sizes. But… I don’t think it should be so… harsh.”

“Let us take Kajiyama for an example.” Amane folded her hands in her lap. It felt good to be speaking like this, as equals. “His behavior in the first trial was nothing but harsh. And yet, you’re the one who spoke up on his behalf, pointing out ways that he cared to the others.”

“That’s true. But Fuuta never hurt anyone.”

“Fuuta has hurt many people.”

“W–well yes, but I meant…” Her face twisted into the one and only expression Amane hated to see from her. A sad sort of smile. There was love in it – which is the reason Amane tolerated it at all – but so much pity, as well. 

As quick as it had come, it was replaced by one of her signature little smiles. “I’ll tell you what, will you play a little game with big sis Mahiru?”

Amane’s mouth was open to reject the idea until Mahiru hurriedly added, “I do love games. I don’t get to play as many, now that the warden didn’t forgive me…”

She huffed. Mahiru turned her round, brown eyes on her. Amane let out another noisy breath. “What is it…?” 

Mahiru clapped her hands together. “Yay~! It’ll be fun, I promise! Let’s pick out the ways that the prisoners show their love! We’ll keep track of it during the day, and keep score at night. You said it yourself, there are so many ways that people show it. Let’s try and notice them all!” She held a finger to her lips. “But we’ll keep it secret. And we’ll try to find something for everyone.”

Amane scoffed. “We’re not going to find one for everyone.” There were a few people who were not graced with the capacity for real love, she had found. 

“Well then, that’s what will make it an interesting game, yeah~?”

—

Mahiru bid Amane a good night. She kept the notebook open on her lap for a moment more. 

The two had busied themselves keeping a secret scoreboard throughout the past few weeks. Mahiru was worried the idea would fizzle out quickly, (as most of her spontaneous plans usually did,) but she hadn’t accounted for how committed Amane was when she put her mind to something. 

Each and every night, Amane would appear in Mahiru’s cell, picking up the notebook to add in the day’s entries. Mahiru would scramble to come up with a few of her own, as she’d forgotten to pay attention throughout the day.

Though she hadn’t actually noticed any decrease in game-playing, the warden’s verdict had hurt her in other ways. If Es rejected her love, what did she have left? If her love truly did hurt others, and Milgram thought she should be punished for it, wouldn’t it be better for her to never show it again? Now and then she’d be crushed under the weight of the verdict, the voices, the guilt. She considered withholding all the kindness within her – what if it got someone else killed? Hadn’t it already come close?

But this little exercise with Amane… 

Originally, the idea had come to her as a way to prove that not a single entry in their notebook featured any harm – no screamed words, no contradictory rules, and certainly no physical pain. It would be a way to keep Amane from staying in her cell all day. Mahiru wasn’t sure if the others necessarily appreciated the nonstop surveillance from Amane’s single, bright eye, but Mahiru knew what a blessing it really was. 

To her surprise, she’d felt swaying within her own heart, as well.

Mahiru ran her finger across the chart, lingering on various entries. Some were as big and grand as she had expected: “held Muu’s hand when she was nervous after a nightmare;” “complimented Mikoto’s appearance after he’d taken a long time to style his hair.” Physical touch, gifts, compliments, it all made sense to her.

Other lines had surprised her: “changed the subject when Kazui started looking uncomfortable;” “explained a joke to Haruka when he didn’t understand it at first;” “left Yuno alone when she seemed too tired to talk.” Amane brought much more variety when she wrote down the things she’d witnessed

Just as Mahiru was teaching Amane something about love, the girl was revealing something to her about it. The mere act of picking out others’ acts of kindness, recognizing when they were trying, even imperfectly, acknowledging when the others touched something deep inside of themselves – it all proved something new.

Her finger paused over a recent addition in Amane’s neat handwriting. “Spoke to me like an adult.” 

It was in a column filled otherwise with Mahiru’s pen strokes. Shidou’s.

“Huh…”

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little drabble thing

I know I have stuff to work on but in my defense, I've done writing on both my projects today so leave me alone with my brainrot

this is absolutely the fault of @intotheelliwoods and the brainrot their Leo losing an arm anyway art has given me. Please go check out that post and the linked comic and give it all the likes and reblogs SERIOUSLY.

okay here's a thing byyyyeeee

He sees the ball out of his peripheral vision, before he even hears Mikey yell, "Heads up!" He reaches to catch it, but it smacks into the side of his head anyway, and it's only once it collides that he realizes.

It hit his right side. He'd reached with a hand that wasn't there anymore.

It's just a rubber ball that Mikey had been kicking around. It didn't hurt where it made contact, just bounced off his head harmlessly before dropping to the floor and rolling away. Nothing to be upset about. And yet...

Something sad and ugly twists in his gut.

"Whoops! Sorry, Leo!" Mikey's voice pulls his attention. He's holding the ball now and looking at Leo and Leo wishes he wouldn't. "Didn't mean to hit you."

"You didn't, that was on purpose. I've been working on my headers!" The joke rolls out of him with such practiced ease he doesn't even have to think about it. He's grinning and he hopes nothing shows on his face.

It's such a little, stupid thing and he has no reason to be upset so why is his chest burning?

"...Everything okay?" asks Mikey, looking at him too closely now, and Leo is struck by the urge to push him away so he'll stop, an urge he quickly pushes down because wow, dramatic much?

What is he going to say? "I couldn't catch the ball and now I want to cry about it"? What is he, five?

"Just thinking I want to get some snacks," he lies, backing away from Mikey toward the lair's exit. "Be back in a few. Hey, if you want something, text me!"

"Leo!" Mikey calls after him, but he's already running through the tunnels like the coward he is.

...

"...Hey Leon."

Leo peeks up around his knees. Leonardo is standing over him, so big and tall and imposing. Leo isn't sure how it's possible that he ever gets that big.

He's not wearing his arm, and Leo's eyes linger on the missing piece before sinking back down to his own legs, pulled up to his chest.

"How'd you find me?"

He hears an amused huff. "You think I'd forget where I used to do my teenage angsting?"

"Who's angsting? Not me. I'm angst free."

There's some shuffling, and then he feels a warm weight on his left side.

"You remember what I said? You can tell me anything."

"There's nothing to tell," he tries. When there's no response, he tacks on, "It's stupid anyway."

"How about you tell me what it is, and then I'll decide if I think it's stupid?"

Leo hesitates, reaching over and fiddling with one of his bandages out of habit. Leonardo is quiet, and patient, and Leo hates how it works on him every time.

"...Mikey kicked a ball at me. Probably not on purpose." Not that he would mind if it had been on purpose, actually, because Pizza Supreme knows he's thrown many a thing at his brothers in his life, but that isn't the point. "And I tried to catch it but... I tried to use my right arm, before I remembered, oh yeah, don't got one of those anymore."

"Okay." Leonardo's voice is measured. "What part of that is supposed to be stupid?"

"That it didn't even hurt but I'm out here "teenage angsting" anyway?"

"Okay, poor choice of words. That's my bad." Leonardo leans into him, and Leo doesn't pull back. "Sounds to me like you aren't upset about the ball. Sounds like you're upset about your arm."

"Yeah, well, I spent weeks being sad about that. I'd like for it to be over, please."

"Unfortunately I don't think it works like that, Mini Me. Grief moves at its own pace. Trust me on that."

Leo pulls his head up, fixing his older counterpart with a stare. "You don't seem bothered by it anymore. How'd you manage that?"

He gets a shrug in return. "I don't think you should use my reaction to gauge your own."

"Why not? We're literally the same person."

"We stopped being the same person the day you stopped the invasion."

Leo isn't sure that's true.

Perhaps sensing that such is the case, Leonardo sighs and continues. "I've had longer to get used to it than you. Eventually, your body starts to adjust to make up for it. Plus, I was older than you when it happened, and I'd already lost... things that made an arm feel like nothing by comparison."

Leo shudders at that, and Leonardo reaches with his arm, giving Leo's shoulder a comforting rub.

"It took time, though. And it still trips me up sometimes. My body forgets and tries to reach with an arm that isn't there. The robot arm doesn't help with adjusting."

He can't help but smile at that, just a little. "But it's so cool."

"Damn straight it's cool. Can't wait to see what Donnie's got cooking up for you."

"Raph nixed the flamethrower attachment."

"He's probably already added it, you just have to swear not to tell."

Leo snickers, and Leonardo laughs along.

"One way we're still the same," Leonardo says when they're quiet again, "is that we aren't good at being kind to ourself. But you're going to have bad days, and you're going to have days where the little things feel insurmountable. And I'm asking you on those days to be kind to yourself."

The sad, ugly thing in Leo's gut is still there, but he feels better anyway, staring at the wall of the tunnel with Leonardo's weight still at his side. Be kind to himself, huh?

"...Seems like you could use the same advice, old man."

Leonardo chuckles, reaching over to give his head a light cuff. "Yeah, yeah. Let's try to learn together."

[littlebunnyotaku]

BIG SLOPPY MAKEOUT SESH WITH I-NO

pls :)

So I didn't know if you wanted a female or gender neutral reader so I went with female since I was already writing it for her.

Minors. Do not interact.

Tw: NSFW (kinda), Poorly written due to my busy life (Might redo in the future), OOC I-No??, French kissing, Ass grabbing, Getting a little wicked if you know what I mean 🌝, No smut just hot make out session, Hint at marriage

Enjoy!!

It was your one in a million day off and you were currently splayed out on your favorite couch. Work has been stressful especially with that Axl guy popping up from basically nowhere and tailing after Asuka.

You sighed in desperation as you thought of I-No. You missed your gf, I-No. The time traveling musician has been on the run from government and public eyes for years. You know she was trying to hide from the government, especially since word got out that she split her relations from “That Man.”

But you can't help but wish that she could just spend some time with you that isn't limited to “Good night.” Or “Good morning, I love you.” or 2 minute facetime calls with her new companion, Happy Chaos.

It’s not like you're jealous or anything… but you would like it if she could come see you even if it's for a night.

Just then, your phone rings.

The words “ Little Miss Red Riding ME (>3<)! ” popped up along with a background video of Happy Chaos shooting at something and her yelling at him.

To your confusion you answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pretty girl.”

Her voice, smooth as butter. You can't help but shiver in delight at the way the nickname rolls off her velvety tongue. God. You just want to kiss her.

You had to rub your face a bit as you could feel yourself blushing. You also realized you stared at her the whole time.

“H-Hey, Babe! What’s going on?” You tried to not sound nervous as you looked at them… avoiding someone?

“Don't worry your precious little head about it, I’m coming home today by the way.”

Everytime she spoke, you felt like your heart was about to burst open with a million butterflies. Everything she did felt like magic and you were only being enchanted by it.

“Really? What do you want for dinner then? I can schedule a reservation-”

“-You. I want you for dinner.” She said as she licked her lips with a cheeky smile.

Your mouth stopped moving as you breathe hitched from what she said.

“M-Me?” You gulped as you watched her lips widen.

I-No smirked at you.

“Of course~ Be a dear and be clean by time I get there, okay? I’ll be there in…about 7.”

Before you could ask minutes or seconds, the call ended.

You laid on your couch with starry eyes.

“Oh. My. God.” were the only words that left your mouth as you rested your phone and hand on your chest. You could help but drift off to a daydream about how you would take her. After all, She’s always been the dom in the relationship.

You imagine her grabbing your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. Your tongues dancing and fighting for dominance. The way her lips suck on yours as she's laying you back and groping at your chest. Her ice cold hand pinching and twisting your nipple as she shoves her tongue down your throat.

“Oh baby girl~”

You’re abruptly pulled out your daydream when you feel a hand touch your face. “And you completely forgot what I said?”

I-No was towering over your body, her breasts right in your face as her eyes trailed down to your chest as well.

You gasped as you sat up immediately, making her slip into your lap. “I-No!! You’re here so quickly!! I just-”

“-You’re lucky I love you.” The witch wrapped her arms around you as she kissed you. You felt like you couldn't breathe as her kisses felt like Heaven. You could feel your saliva mixing together when your eyes rolled a bit. You moved your hand down and grabbed her ass, making her grind on you.

“I missed you so much.” She breathed out in between kisses. You felt your tongue slide against hers, her tongue making it to the back of your throat, making you gag.

You couldn't help but look into her gorgeous multicolored eyes as she knew how to create an atmosphere.

Your vision was getting blurry so you pulled away from the Crimson lady, gasping for air.

Sweat was sticking to your forehead, along with some hair strands. “I missed you too.” You whimpered out.

I-No sighed and pulled you up. “Let's go shower.” She said with a wink.

You knew this was going to be a night to remember as you helplessly followed your future wife, ignoring the box with a ring inside it that was placed on the counter.

[woodchipp]

So I didn't want to keep blowing up your messages on that post, so I'll try to respond as concisely and respectfully as I can here :)

Some of these are my opinions, some are speculation, and some are pulled directly from the Canon, but feel free to disagree all the same. This isn't me trying to argue, but tbh, I like engaging in debates/talking to people about media that I enjoy so I can get a different perspective on what to do/not as a writer. So here we go.

"That's basically the issue I take with the twist - a good chunk of the foreshadowing could be construed as Sunny feeling guilty about Mari's *suicide*, not his *manslaughter*. We're also not shown much of the process of Sunny's frustration growing until it boils over and he breaks the violin, so it just makes him flipping out at his sister feel out of left field."

I agree and that's where most of Omori's problem comes from. We're never shown the gap between when the photo album takes place and where the argument happens and I always had a feeling that it was tact on. We're told that Sunny was dealing with pain from the violin in a random throwaway line, but that was never conveyed. There should've been more of a build-up for what Sunny did, but I always saw it as more of the heat of a moment thing since the recital was happening, giving Mari a reason to be harder on him, on top of him already feeling nervous because, unless I'm mistaken, Sunny did deal with feeling nervous about the recital and only took up the violin because he wanted to spend time with her, not because he wanted to play. But nonetheless, that doesn't excuse the poor writing.

Again, feel free to disagree with him, but his breaking the violin shows where his priorities lay, and that was never on the violin, but his relationship with Mari. The violin was supposed to serve as a tool he could use to spend time with Mari, but all it ended up doing was driving them apart and having his doubts about himself fully realized because, from what we can tell, he always thought that he wasn't really good at anything (as evidence by what the books say in the Lost Library) and was more a less of a burden on his friends (which things ends up being proven to be true since his killing Mari burdens his friends AND his cowardly running away from the action stunts his growth and turns him into a being devoid of any meaning or purpose in life but to escape from the guilt he brought onto himself.)

So basically, already not feeling good enough was proven because he kept messing up his part, wanting to spend time with his sister and then indirectly driving their relationship into something that can only be indulged in if he's doing something he doesn't want to do. And I get it, "If he didn't want to, he should've said something," but tbh, it's more realistic for preteen kids to try to hang out with their "big kid" older siblings on their terms because they want to feel closer to them. My evidence? Like I said, having siblings with roughly the same age gap as Sunny and Mari.

(Ironically, I also played the violin and there were so many times my siblings wanted to play with me to spend time with me, so eh, funny coincidence there.)

11/12-year-olds are very emotional and reckless at times, and they tend to take a lot of things at surface level. I'm not attempting to justify Sunny's actions, but I've seen in action how QUICKLY rambunctious they get, ESPECIALLY in arguments or physical altercations with siblings.

My issue with Omori is that Mari is displayed as perfect and NOT the typical sibling, which makes their fight unrealistic to me. Sunny at the moment was a realistic child, but you can't honestly expect me to believe that someone as perfectly shown as Mari would've got into a physical altercation with Sunny in good faith, no matter how angry she was.

Mari needed to be aged closer to Sunny and to be closer to the average sibling for the fight to have been believable. Give a reason for the fight to be believable, because fights between siblings resulting in more harm than what was intended occurs A LOT in real life, age gaps be damned, but part of the emotional impact needs to be about the siblings' closeness, so why not just show a normal sibling relationship with ups and downs rather than this idealistic "mother-son" bond that they had?

That's what breaks it for me. In this case, yes, I believe that with how perfectly Mari was displayed, they should've gone for a suicide angle, whereas if they wanted to do a "younger sibling accidentally killed older sibling" they needed to make said older sibling believable. But I guess they thought that if Mari wasn't showcased as perfect, then the audience wouldn't have been endeared to her, which is just stupid logic because Aubrey is a problematic character (tbh they all are), and yet a lot of people still like her? Omocat confuses me sometimes.

Sunny should've had to explore the implications of the suicide while also piecing together that Mari WASN'T a perfect person, but the game seems to want to double down on that for some reason. You can't have your cake and eat it too game; either she was a good person who never would've engaged with her brother to such an angry and jarring degree OR she was a flawed, realistic person who got into a fight with her brother over a stressful thing that neither of them could communicate properly on, but the game doesn't seem to want to explore either of those things. Headspace Mari being perfect makes sense. He killed her. The least he can do is idolize her and make her an "angel figure." But then real world Mari is ALSO idealized? And I'm just like, that doesn't make any sense, but sure, ok...

"Also, from what I've heard (although so far it's unconfirmed), Mari was actually intended to have killed herself and the whole manslaughter twist was added MUCH later on, which would probably explain why it feels so inorganic with the rest of the story."

That makes sense and I also had a feeling that was the case.

"Isn't the whole good ending about how he's free to move on and how he'll no longer feel guilty? I mean, the additional secret cutscene even shows his and Basil's Somethings fading away entirely."

Ok, so here's where I start to disagree a bit. Sunny shouldn't feel shame (which is what I think you mean rather than guilt, but I could be mistaken", he should feel guilty. And I'm sure you going to ask, "Well what's the difference?" (Or maybe you already know, and it's my fault for assuming you don't.)

Shame, in this case, is a selfish thing. What Sunny did was a selfish thing. He killed his sister, albeit accidentally, and then pretty much hid said shame under the guise of an idealistic dream."

Guilt is feeling bad because you did a bad thing to another person, shame is believing you ARE a bad person. The guilt never goes away, it's the shame that does. Guilt is a healthy thing, shame typically isn't (it depends on the action tbh.)

The problem with shame is that it doesn't drive anyone to do anything but wallow in self-pity. If you truly believe you're a bad person, then 9 times out of 10, you're not going to make the effort to prove said belief wrong because shame goes deeper than a thought process. It's an entire evaluation of your character that doesn't even have to exist because you did something wrong, some people just feel shame naturally. Shame is heavily related to OCD (guilt can be too, but people with shame-related OCD usually believe they're bad people rather than they simply did/thought a bad thing).

Whereas you're constantly in a cycle of blaming yourself and feeling terrible and as a result of being in said cycle of shame, you never FORWARD yourself, and if you never do that, then you never take the time to try to right the person(s) you wronged.

Sunny should feel guilty and it's never said that it goes away, he still did a terrible thing to another person and as long as that fact remains, the guilt will always be there. It's the belief that he's an inherently evil person that goes away.

Guilt is healthy, shame isn't, and it's the guilt that drives him to come clean in the first place and the shame that drives him to, well, *glances at a bad ending.*

I feel like this is an issue with Omori fans when they say that Omori embodies the guilt because that's not true, he embodies that shame.

And we can see the logic, "I did a bad thing, so I'm bad and therefore I don't deserve to live," (and tbh I feel like the only people who don't deserve to live when they do bad things are like, r@pists and people into children and serial killers,) not a child who unintentionally killed their older sibling. Now if it was an older child who intentionally killed their younger sibling, I could see an argument there, but like I said, as a big sister, I couldn't in good faith believe that a younger sibling deserves to die over something they did unintentionally when they were twelve.

Whether or not Sunny is an inherently evil person once he's older is up to you when, but again, I can't as an older sibling say I wouldn't forgive my sibling for doing something to me like that. Maybe that's just me, but that's how I feel about it.

I noticed you said that you take issue with Mari forgiving Sunny in another post, but to me, as a big sister, that was the more realistic part of her character. Maybe it's not for everyone to agree on, but I couldn't see myself being angry/not forgiving my sibling over an accident, especially for causing said accident when they were twelve.

Anyway, that's just my thoughts. It's a bit of cluster fuck of ideas and concepts, and you're free to tear into them, but they're all just opinions at the end of the day.

We're told that Sunny was dealing with pain from the violin in a random throwaway line [...] unless I'm mistaken, Sunny did deal with feeling nervous about the recital

I don't think it was either pain or anxiety. He apparently viewed violin practice as a "nuisance" that prevented him from watching Saturday morning cartoons for as long as he wanted to and that's pretty much the only info you're given until the Black Space photo album lol

And I get it, "If he didn't want to, he should've said something,"

Eh, never saw any reason to apply that argument to him. Although I suppose it'd have been kinda interesting to see him initiate their big argument by blowing up at Mari because she got too harsh on him or something along these lines

part of the emotional impact needs to be about the siblings' closeness, so why not just show a normal sibling relationship with ups and downs rather than this idealistic "mother-son" bond that they had?

[...]

Sunny should've had to explore the implications of the suicide while also piecing together that Mari WASN'T a perfect person, but the game seems to want to double down on that for some reason. You can't have your cake and eat it too game; either she was a good person who never would've engaged with her brother to such an angry and jarring degree OR she was a flawed, realistic person who got into a fight with her brother over a stressful thing that neither of them could communicate properly on, but the game doesn't seem to want to explore either of those things. Headspace Mari being perfect makes sense. He killed her. The least he can do is idolize her and make her an "angel figure." But then real world Mari is ALSO idealized? And I'm just like, that doesn't make any sense, but sure, ok...

Yeah, exactly.

It baffles me to no end. We're told Sunny is quite the unreliable narrator right before the game reinforces his unreliable perception of Mari by portraying her as perfect in tne real world as well and it's just. ?????????????????

But I guess they thought that if Mari wasn't showcased as perfect, then the audience wouldn't have been endeared to her, which is just stupid logic because Aubrey is a problematic character (tbh they all are), and yet a lot of people still like her? Omocat confuses me sometimes.

People like Aubrey because she's *checks smudged writing on hand* an absolute girlboss and cunty. And if you don't like her, you're sexist. Seriously, that's most of the arguments I've seen being used in her defense when people talk about her lmao

I've spent quite a while dissecting this game and trust me, Omocat confuses me all the time. OMORI's writing desperately wants to be taken seriously but kinda just. falls apart when you actually take it seriously and think about it for more than 0.5 seconds

Omori representing Sunny's shame instead of his guilt would make the former disappearing after the DUET cutscene make sense. Huh, that's an Interesting interpretation

I noticed you said that you take issue with Mari forgiving Sunny in another post, but to me, as a big sister, that was the more realistic part of her character. Maybe it's not for everyone to agree on, but I couldn't see myself being angry/not forgiving my sibling over an accident, especially for causing said accident when they were twelve.

Ironically, my issue with Mari forgiving Sunny is that it kinda makes her look even more perfect than she already is. Like she's so perfect that she can't even get angry at her brother for cutting her life short

In any case, this was a pretty nice and civil discussion. Thank you for writing me! :D

[mypoisonedvine]

Idk if you take request🛐 but if you do could you do one where y/n is nervous to take her bra off in front of Eddie cause she’s on the small side but with the bra it’s giving C cup when she really has A cup. ……..😬 I feel like this is a little oddly specific but the power of Victoria Secret be having my confidence 📈 till I have to take it off then it’s like 📉

warnings: SMUT 18+, small chested reader, insecurity, lots of tit sucking, fingering, hand job, fluff, eddie being a goof

"Listen, sweetheart, I'm really not trying to be a dick here," he insisted, "and I don't want it to seem like I'm obsessed with your boobs. I mean, I am, but I don't want it to seem like that."

You giggled a little, looking down. Meeting at your usual spot in the woods started with casual conversation, but like it had once or twice before, it came back to Eddie noticing your obvious and strange habit of refusing to let him see you without your bra.

"I just— if I thought you didn't want to go further I'd let it go. But we do so much, uh, other stuff... and I still haven't even seen your tits," he explained, stepping closer to you as he bit his lip for a second. "Been thinking about them for— well, since I first saw you. Are you just trying to drive me crazy or somethin'? 'Cause, fuck, babydoll— it's working."

"I'm not," you promised, "it's not... it's not that."

"Okay," he breathed, "so, what is it? Have we not been going out long enough? Do you just not like being touched there?"

"It's— it's not about the touching..." you clarified. "It's about the seeing."

He knitted his eyebrows together for a second before laughing. "Want me to put a blindfold on? I can work with that."

"No," you sighed, "it's not— I'm just nervous, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed. "Okay. That's okay. I just wanna make sure there isn't anything I can do to make you feel better about it. I'm not above begging."

You smiled. "Well, you don't need to beg..."

"I don't?" he asked excitedly, choking a bit when you raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean— of course I don't," he mumbled as he held his hands behind his head and made a silly 'cool guy' face. "Obviously."

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his shoulders lightly. But your playful demeanor fell as insecurity twisted in your chest again. "Just... say that you won't be... disappointed?"

"Dis—" he stopped and started again. "Disappointed?"

"Yeah!" you defended, crossing your arms.

"That's what you're nervous about? Me being disappointed by getting to see and feel your tits?" he realized, tilting his head down but raising his eyebrows. "I'm nervous I'm gonna bust in my fuckin' jeans, how's that for nervous?"

"But what if they're not..." you sighed. "What if they're not that, um... big?"

"Seriously, babe— how big they are doesn't matter. They're yours, that's what I like about them! I wanna touch you baby, that's all I ever wanted."

You bit your lip and looked away. "O-okay, because, well... I never told you but I... this is a push-up bra. I always wear a push-up."

"Why?" he asked.

"'Cause without it they're... small!" you blurted out. "Too small! I just wanted— I wanted to feel pretty, I wanted to be, I dunno, sexy? I wanted you to think I was hot."

He smiled, reaching up to hold your arms gently. "You know why I think you're hot, babe?" he asked, continuing when you shook your head. "'Cause you're funny. And weird, but cool. And you get this look in your eyes when you're talking about your favorite things, and you hang onto my arm when we're walking together, and... well, the list goes on. I digress."

You bit your lip, blinking quickly as your heart swelled.

"Point is, how big your tits are is just... something about you. It's you that I like. Not your tits. Not that I, uh, don't like your tits— but I just mean, that's not really why I like you, like, at all."

You nodded. "And you're not... mad at me, for wearing a push up, or anything?"

"Course not. If anything it's kinda sweet— and, uh, hot— that you wanted to, you know... look good for me." He stepped up a little closer to you, with a mischievous smirk on his lips. "But if you wanted my attention, sweetheart, no bra would've done the trick just fine."

"Well," you breathed, "it's not too late for that, is it?"

"Never."

He watched, enraptured, as you pulled your shirt off over your head, now with only the lacy push-up to cover your chest. This you'd done before, this you were familiar with— but knowing you were finally about to take that step and let him really see you made you all chilly and nervous.

"You're sure you wanna let me see?" he asked one more time. "I swear, I wasn't trying to pressure you, I just wanna make sure you're comfortable with me."

"I am," you promised, "just... don't get upset when you see them, okay?"

"Sweetheart, respectfully, I think upset is the last thing I'm gonna be."

You reached behind your back and carefully undid the clasp, letting out a shuddering breath as you let the straps slide from your shoulders.

As the garment fell onto the ground, you glanced away from his face, afraid of what expression you would find on it. But you heard him make a little noise, and it got your attention; and when you looked at him, you saw lust, pure lust, tinting his eyes as he stared you down.

"Fuck," he breathed, "god, they're perfect— you're perfect..."

"Really?" you asked.

"Can I feel them, babe? Please..." he begged, and you nodded.

His hands came up to rest on them gently, making you shiver as his fingers carefully squeezed the flesh. "They're... they're not too small?"

"Baby," he grinned, "you still worried about that? They're cute, they're sexy, they're— they're your fucking tits, babe, I've been waiting so long to get my mouth on these."

"Your mouth?!" you repeated with wide eyes, and he looked up to your face again to smirk at you.

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah," you replied, watching him crouch down to press his face in between your breasts, kissing your sternum, before suddenly tilting his head giving an open-mouthed kiss to one of your nipples.

Your breath caught, and your eyes were glued to him flicking his tongue out and teasing the hardened bud, before finally wrapping his lips around and sucking harder. You moaned, way louder than you meant to, and felt him smile around you. "They're so sweet, princess," he whispered, "and sensitive. God, that's so hot..."

He kissed his way across to the other one, and moaned around it as he lathed it with a wide tongue. Your hand shot up to his mess of hair, tangling in the curls as he kept up the good work. "Eddie," you breathed.

"Mhm," he agreed as he suckled on one, looking up at you with those big-ass fucking eyes, god it was overwhelming. He pulled off of it with a pop to smile up at you. "Is this good?"

"S-so good," you agreed, and his eyes fell shut as he set his mouth around you again— open wide this time, trying to take in as much of your skin as he could fit. His hands squeezed at the base of them, pushing your breast further into his mouth, making your hips rock up towards him in need.

He pulled away one more time, just an inch or two, watching closely as his fingers pinched your spit-slick peak. "Cute little nipples," he noticed, and you never even imagined him talking about your tits that way but it was weirdly sexy.

"Eddie," you whimpered, "I— I'm so wet..."

"Fuck, lemme touch your pussy, babe," he pleaded breathlessly.

"Please," you replied, and his hand was between your legs in a moment. You whined and rubbed yourself against it, feeling his fingers zero in on your clit right away even through your jeans.

That was the pattern for a while, him sucking your tits and giving little bites and kisses to the sensitive flesh while his hand expertly toyed with you through your clothes— until you got too needy and just had to quietly beg for more, please Eddie, touch me more...

As soon as he heard your demand, he roughly opened your jeans and shoved his hand inside, putting his tongue to his lips for a second as he had to force his way down against the tight denim. You both sighed with relief when he got deep enough to feel your soaked opening, into which he plunged two fingers suddenly. "Fuck!" you gasped.

"Mm," he hummed happily, mouthing at your neck this time. "So wet— are you having fun, babe?"

"Yes, yes, just— don't stop," you whimpered.

"Oh? You want me to taste them some more?" he taunted.

"Eddie!" you whined defiantly, and he chuckled as he kissed his way down your bare chest and started all over again, teasing your nipples with little pecking kisses before finally sticking his tongue out and swirling it around them gently. It made your pussy pulse on his fingers, as did the way he moaned just from feeling you like this.

"Can you come for me?" he breathed. "Can you come while I'm— fuck— while I'm sucking on your pretty tits?"

"Yeah," you nodded, whining louder as his fingers curled into your spot.

He pumped his fingers inside you carefully, your jeans too tight to allow him to move his whole hand— so he just had to slide his fingers up and down, rubbing your clit not-so-accidentally with the knuckle at the beginning of his palm. Your legs were shaking already.

"Come on, that's it," he cooed around a mouthful of your skin, moving over back to the other breast again. "Yeah, cream on my fingers, babe, know you want to..."

And you did, whimpering at his encouragement and feeling your knees almost give out. He cooed at you as he felt you come apart, even just letting the natural movements of his lips and tongue as he spoke tease your sensitive breasts. You winced when he pulled his fingers out of you and his hand out of your jeans, standing up straight again to show you what a pretty, sticky mess you'd made on him.

"Wanna suck all that deliciousness off my fingers for me, princess?" he purred, watching with a slack mouth as you opened yours and took them in, tasting your tangy arousal. "Mm, good job— that's— fuck that's good, babe..."

He lost a bit of his composure as you sucked harder on his fingers, massaging them with your tongue—

"Shit!" he grunted. "Forgot how devilish that little mouth of yours is... suck harder?"

You did, blinking your eyes up at him, before he tore his hand away to give you a big, sloppy, needy kiss with his panting breaths all over it.

His hands were on your tits again, grabbing greedier handfuls of them, squeezing almost too hard to make you moan into his mouth.

You whined when you felt his hips press forward, his obvious and throbbing erection right against your thigh through his jeans. He broke away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes dark and heavy as they stared down at you.

"Fuck, fuck, just jerk me off," he grunted as he started quickly unbuttoning his jeans for you, pulling his cock out and grabbing your hand to wrap around it. You started stroking him quickly, watching as he shut his eyes and panted and leaned his head down. "Damn, baby, that's good... just like that, m'close..."

You stroked him just a bit faster, twisting your hand gently at his tip, letting the sticky precum smooth your movements.

"Got me so worked up suckin' on your tits, babe," he sighed, "and you sound so pretty when I do it to you. M'fuckin'— shit— gonna come, sweetheart, gonna— ah!"

He grunted as seed painted your hand, dripping down your wrist, making you bite your lip as he pumped into your hand with absent-minded thrusts of his hips. "Don't stop, Eddie," you whispered, "keep coming."

"God," he choked, "you— fuck!"

You kept pumping him with your hand until you heard him whine through his teeth and knew that was the end of it— and he really had unloaded a lot onto you, come covering your hand and dripping down to the ground quickly.

"Christ," he grunted, opening his eyes again and staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. "Emptied my fuckin' balls on you, apparently— sorry."

"Don't apologize, I wanted you to," you promised.

"Can I come on your tits next time?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth in an instant as you inhaled a sharp breath. "Deal."

[catholicdaredevil]

This is a little (very) sad, but I love to make myself suffer so here we go. Matt x fiancefem!reader where she finds out that Matt slept with Elektra during they engagement, he doesn't know that she knows and even though he loves her and not Elektra, she can't help but feel sad and disappointed.

Do it only if you feel like it, don't feel pressured.

this is fucking sick and twisted but yes i'll write it theres some imagery and description of vomiting in this so theres a warning also big ole angst warning and idk how good i am at angst but this made me want to die!!!!!!!!!

-

it's not hard to put the pieces together, he's surprisingly shitty at hiding them. wasn't hard to realize that elektra was back in town, matt falling into old routines of flaking on everyone with little to no explanation, ditching even you, his fiance. easy to notice the way he shifted his affections, distant and cold whenever you tried to ask him about what was going on.

he'd just mumble answers of 'its nothing' and 'i'm handling it isn't that enough'. and the sinking pit of your stomach grew with each day, each night that he never ended up coming home to your shared apartment. only even knowing he was alive by the way he'd show up late to court, thoroughly screwing over everyone and not just you.

things had been getting worse for weeks, to the point where you started sleeping at karens after an argument. all you'd asked was for him to let you in, to tell you literally anything about what was going on. it'd dissolved into tears and yelling, all of which on your side. matt stood stoically, no emotion in his voice or stance.

"i just don't know what to do karen, i love him more than anything in the entire god damn world but there's only so much i can do," you sighed, practically through the entire bottle of wine she'd opened by yourself. matt hadn't even tried to come see you, or talk to you, since you'd started staying apart.

"i don't know, i'm so sorry, i don't know what to say. me and foggy are trying to talk to him, to knock some sense into him it's just-- it's not working." it killed her to see you like this, to watch matt throw away every good thing he'd worked so hard for with seemingly no thought or hesitation.

"i think-- i think he's sleeping with her again karen."

finally voicing your worst fears twists the knife that's found it's home deep in your chest ever since this started. suddenly you feel sick, like the only way to escape all of this is by removing every thought of it from your head, that maybe if you could purge everything from your stomach that all of the hurt would go with it.

"i promised foggy i wouldn't say anything but i just can't-- can't just sit here and listen to you suffer the consequences of his actions quietly and keep it from you. he-- i'm so sorry, he did. foggy said to wait, give him the chance to tell you but he's not even-- not even talking to you and i just--" her words washed over you, frozen in your spot on her couch as you got to watch and feel your entire life fall apart before you.

you'd been together for years, lived together, gotten engaged. he'd told you that you were the love of his life, that he only wanted you for the rest of said life and now this? you were so quickly second best to elektra. all that hurt he'd promised he would never inflict on you, all the future's planned and cherished, just vanished.

"i-," you chewed on your words, aware of the way she studied you, "thank you i'm glad at least i know."

as if the universe decided that this wasn't enough, you weren't in enough pain to slip past the knock on karens door. a familiar rap of knuckles that had once brought you a giddy comfortable joy, now made you want to sob, want to clutch at your chest in search of the wound that would explain the pain you felt.

"i know you're in there, i can hear you please. please, i promise i was going to tell you. i was gonna tell you now, ask you to come home and tell you everything and apologize and please sweetheart trust me when i say that i never meant to hurt you. i never meant for it to happen, you don't understand, it's not-- not what you think."

he heard karen scoff at his words and both of them, her next to you and him on the other side of the door patiently waited your response. it was too much, all of this at once some sick fucking joke for you to finally get everything and lose it all in ten minutes. like sand falling through your fingers as you desperately tried to hold on to something that was already gone.

"go away matt."

[lem0nshark-writes]

"The City of Ruins"

Thranduil x Male (elf) Reader

Word count: 2344 Summary: Lost lovers reunite 🌙☄

Warnings: angst at first then fluff w/ smut later on, the begining of smut is marked tho so don't worry, reader's a bottom

🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄🌙 ☄

After the battle for Erebor you stayed behind in the city of Dale, it wasn't on your own accord, no. If it were up to you you would have returned to Mirkwood with your king, but you were banished from your home.

Such events came to be because you defied your king's orders to fall back and leave the dwarves to deal with orcs on their own. But you weren't gonna let your friends die, you weren't gonna let them fight on their own, even if it meant going against your king's will.

So you stayed behind, betrayed look on your king's face coming to haunt you more often than you'd like to admit. But you knew you did the right thing.

Many moons passed since the battle and you managed to fix yourself a home, it wasn't much, just a lower floor with a fireplace and a spot to lay on, but it's all you could muster up from the city in ruins.

You took it upon yourself to slowly clean and build around yourself, salvaging what you can of the city. And short trips to Laketown took care of your need for food and liquids.

It was a decent life, but terribly horribly lonely.

Your only friend being your thoughts and a bittersweet longing for your rín meleth*.

(*crowned love)

You feelings didn't come as surprise to you, they've been lingering for a while now but you've never acted on them, fearing he wouldn't feel the same and you'd cross a line. And besides, you were just a regular elf, no royalty, why would you ever be a match for him.

Dark stormy clouds gathered around the mountain and the city of Dale, heavy rain moments from being released.

You rushed to your small home in the heart of the city, arms full of twigs and branches, racing the time against the rain. And you made it in in the last second because just as you closed the door the sky came crashing down in big droplets.

You let out a sigh of relief and made your way to the fireplace, placing the newbrought wood at the side of it and started the night's fire. After making sure it's well lit and strong, you moved the remaining wood on the side for later.

You got up and took off unnecessary layers of clothes and your boots as the room started to fill up with warmth, setting them on their spot near the door.

Fixing your hair up in a messy bun you sat down on your bed and just as your were about to lay down for your daily rest, an unexpected knock on the door broke the comfortable silence mixed in with the crackling of the fire.

You looked up at the door and slowly got up, wondering who could it be as no guests announced themselves for the following days.

Creaking the door open your eyes widened in surprise. There in front of you, soaked in rain head to toe, stood none other than your ex king.

Your shock was soon pushed away by reminiscence of betrayal and old memories that came flooding your thoughts.

"How could you do that to me?.." pained expression pushed it's way through on kings face, trying to overcome the angry one that he tried so hard to keep.

"I already told you, but I guess you've gone deaf on your ears, I wouldn't and I won't let my friends die because you were too much of a coward to fight!" you started slow and calm but by the end of the sentence got louder and angrier, fire of the old argument rekindling fast.

"I am no coward! I did that to save the lives of our people! To save your life!" he growled back.

Anger gushed through your body but you said nothing, staring at his icy blue eyes.

"You might be-You maybe were my king, but my friends' lives are more important than your orders," you turned away, walking deeper into the house.

Thranduil followed, doors closing after him, and looked around a bit, feeling bad seeing how you lived since he threw you out of your home.

"You're so stubborn.." he sighed heavily, "What if something happened to you? What would I do then? What would I do without you??"

You turned around slightly and looked over at him. Worry of past events and what-ifs ridden across his face mixing with anger towards your stubbornness.

"You did just fine.." you muttered almost inaudibly, looking back away to hide your tears, old feelings starting to become too much.

He looked at you in shock for a few moments before regaining his ability to speak, "What… You think I enjoyed banishing you?? You think I enjoyed returning home without you and spending months an months with you nowhere in sight?? You think I like that?? .. When people ask me where you are?? .. Not seeing your face ever day??…"

"You think my soul isn't tearing into pieces without my meleth.." he looked at you, sadness twisting his face into a pained expression.

Your eyes widened at the last part and you turned around swiftly, standing there with your mouth agape for a few moments before speaking, " . . . Your meleth?.."

Thranduil's eyes widened a bit as well after he realized what he had said but then closed slowly as his expression melted into one of saddened agreement.

"You loved me?.." you asked softly.

He nodded, ". . . I still do.."

"Why didn't you say anything?.." you took a few steps towards the taller male, closing the gap between you two almost completely, and searched his eyes with your own.

"I feared you wouldn't feel the same.. and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you if that were true.." he finally gazed back at you.

"Silly king," you muttered through a slight smile forming on your face, " I loved you for hundreds of years, and I still do," you took his hands in yours and held them to your chest.

At your words his face lit up like forest in spring waking up from a long winter dream and he leaned I swiftly, locking his lips with yours, something he's been yearning to do for so long.

Without thinking you returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace and he did the same, his strong arms washing away all the worries and making you feel like the whole world around you disappeared.

"Return home with me my meleth, rule as a king by my side, let's never part again," he whispered into your neck.

Your lips spread into a warm smile as you gazed upon his eyes, "I'd like that very much."

((smut continuation from here on))

The two of you settled down on a crapet by the fireplace, setting your journey back to Mirkwood for tomorrow, when the storm hopefully calms down.

You forced the king to take off the outer layer of his clothes to put to dry by the fire and he undid his wet hair too, allowing it to dry easier on the warm air.

The two of you rested in each other's arms for a while, letting the fire warm you both up as you chatted exchanging some old stories and talks of your lingering feelings.

He smiled down at you, arms wrapped around your body as you rested your back against his chest. You looked up at him, returning the smile, "What?"

"Nothing. I just am wondering why we didn't confess sooner," he placed a warm kiss onto your jaw.

"Me too," your eyes instantly closed as he did that, "I guess we are two completely oblivious idiots," you added with a chuckle.

He let out a chuckle as well, "That we are." He grinned and kissed you deepy, passion spilling out from his lips.

You smiled into the kiss and returned just as passionately, cupping his cheeks in the process.

The bigger elf moved slightly, allowing your bodies to face each other, before wrapping his arms around you again.

The two of your kept on kissing, the kiss turning from slow and passionate to yearning and with a lot more tongue.

His hands started roaming your body and soon enough your vest was off, and shortly after your shirt too.

At the motion you parted your kiss and the two of you exchanged a knowing look. And just as quickly his lips were back on yours and your hands now undoing his top.

Once you won the battle with his shirt he moved his lips to your neck, tracing kisses and licks before the same turned into bites and sucks, leaving hickeys behind that ended up littering your neck and your chest.

You moaned on his actions, running your fingers through his hair and giving it a gentle thug on each bite he left on your soft skin.

He moved his attention to your lower stomach, leaving warm kisses there as he slipt your pants off with a single swift move.

You looked up at him, the two of you locking eyes, as you bit your lower lip. His gaze trailed around your body, taking in every bit of it, "Y/n.. you're beautiful.." he said, lust-laced desire dripping off his words.

The tone he spoke in made you shiver under his touch. He gave you a deep kiss and then proceeded to take his pants off too and soon enough both of yours undergarments followed.

He laid you down and got on top of you, kissing you deeply once again.

Your eyes stayed locked with his abs and, well, lower parts, being slightly taken aback by how good he looks.

He quickly caught up on your thoughts and smirked, making you in return blush like mad.

"Like what you see?" Thranduil smirked at his smaller lover who by the looks of it was about to burst into flames from the redness his cheeks reached caused by his words and that smug smirk Thranduil proudly wore.

He chuckled at his lover's sudden shyness and let his hand trail to his already errect memeber.

You gasped softly at the feel of his fingers on you and your eyes closed from pleasure, hand rushing to your mouth to silent the escaping moans.

Thranduil's hand reached for yours and moved it from your mouth, pinning it above your head, "I like your moans, don't hide them," he smirked and left kisses across your yaw and neck once again, as his hand worked magic bringing you all the way to the edge before abruptly stopping.

You looked up at him in wonder, unpleased and yearning for the pleasure to come back. He smirked softly at you and pulled you by your thighs closer to himself and his face went down.

You looked up at what he was up to and gasped in pleasure when you felt his slick tongue move against your hole. You fell back and your eyes rolled in sweetness as his tongue made it's way into you. It twisted and turned inside you, sending waves of pleasure all throughout your body, his hands squeezing your butt cheeks as they held onto them.

Once again you were on the edge of an orgasm and once again he pulled away just as you were about to reach it.

You whined slightly this time, pouting at his repeated action.

"Shhhhhh you'll like what comes next better-," he smirked at you and sat himself up again, grabbing at the sides of your thighs as he positioned himself at your now wet entrance.

You propped yourself up just enough to reach his lips and kiss him deeply, which he gladly returned, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

"Ready?" he smiled at you warmly as you two held your faces close to one another. You gave him a soft nod, bracing yourself for what's about to come.

He slowly started pushing in, giving you enough time in-between each little push to adjust to him in you, moans rolling off your tongue along with rugged breaths.

Once he was all the way inside you he kissed you deeply, distracting you from any lingering pain till it all melted away into burning pleasure.

Holding at your sides he slowly started moving his hips pushing his big length in and out of you, at first slowly before picking up the pace. Moans streamed out of both of your mouths mixed up with muffled breathing between kisses.

"Ahhhh hhhhhngggg…" moans left your mouth one after the other as he picked up the pace even more, hand back on your ass and squeezing it.

Your finger nails raked his back in pleasure causing him to moan your name out between paced breaths, "Y/n… ahhh-."

You moved your lips to his neck, leaving the tall elf an even bigger moaning mess as you left hickey upon hickey against his skin.

He slapped your ass in the moment as he pushed in even deeper, reaching that sweet sweet spot, making you moan his name out even louder than before. He picked up on that and started hitting that spot repeatedly with even greater strength making you melt completely underneath him.

He could tell you were very close and so was he, and with a few more strong thrusts both of you came hard, moaning each other's names and spilling, you on his and yours stomach and him inside of you.

Panting he brought himslef down and placed a loving kiss on your lips, exhausted with pleasure and still riding your orgasm you returned.

He gently pulled out and plopped down next to you, pulling you close into his warm embrace.

You two stayed like that for a while, hugging and unable to reach your breaths.

Once your breath returned to your lungs you snuggled up into his chest and kissed his yaw, "I love you my king."

He smiled down at you and hugged you tighter, placing a long kiss onto your lips, "I love you too meleth."

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •2•

Hi hi! I'm back with another chapter. This one might not be as good(?, it's a really fluffy chapter so bear with me.

warnings: sugar daddy jae, he's a big baby, tooth rotting, kinda long.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato

“Sir, there’s a girl asking to see you.”

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Let her in.”

Only a few seconds later, your head was peeking through his door.

“I brought you coffee.” You extended your hand out, showing him the carton containing two iced drinks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, come in.” You sat on the elegant, individual sofa in front of him, his desk serving as a separation. “Are you here to spy on me? Don't you trust me with your father's case?” He pouted, typing something in his keyboard while your palms started sweating.

How could you not trust the man with the highest case winning index in the whole country?

Briefly, after your encounter with the other lawyer, you'd googled him as well as his company. Because of his incredibly high fees, he didn't have many clients, but those few who had enough money to cost him were almost assured to be on the winning side. So then, why hadn't an excellent lawyer like him popped up when you'd first looked for popular firms? Simple, he wasn't popular.

Just like a hidden gem, only a few had the pleasure to know Yoonoh, and you felt beyond grateful for paying that stupid membership weeks ago.

“No, no!” You were quick to defend yourself, frantically shaking your hands to support your previous statement. “Just wanted to be of help.”

Truth to be told, after receiving your first weekly allowance, an unsettling feeling had been squeezing your heart ever since. Call it guilt or whatever, but it didn't set right to be receiving si much help from him when you hadn't had the chance to do anything in return. The least you could do was trying to be polite.

“You shouldn't be spending your money on me. I'm the one supposed to spoil you, remember?” He grabbed the plastic container by the lid, sipping the bitter liquid with an amused smile. “But thank you.”

“I paid my rent yesterday.” You blurted out, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence threatening to settle between the two of you. “And I still have money left to save for my father's hospital bills, maybe even buy a present for my aunt.”

He admired how noble you were, making sure those around you had enough before even thinking to do something for yourself.

“I have a party this Friday, would you like to attend with me?” Your presence wasn't required as it wasn't a big event, but by the look in your eyes, he knew you were itching to do something in return for his kindness.

“Yes, of course!” Your orbs sparkled with excitement, finally feeling yourself useful.

“If you don't mind waiting, we can go buy something for you to wear right after I finish with this.” For what seemed like the tenth time in less than ten minutes, small beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. Thank God he wasn't able to see them. “Oh, come on, don't give me that look!”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can buy the clothes myself, don't worry.” With a deep sigh, Yoonoh rose from his chair, taking long strides to surround the desk separating you. “W-what are you doing?” Now kneeling on the floor beneath you, his face was dangerously close to yours, coffee breath crashing against your nose.

“Using mind control to convince you to let me take you out.” He stared at you for a couple more seconds before saying: “Is it working?”

“I think your mind control is broken.” You whisper, unable to hold back the small giggles bubbling at the back of your throat.

“How about now?” He batted his eyelashes, trying to act cute despite his bold features. You shook your head.

Just as you thought it was over, his hand went up to cup your jaw, his thumb drawing uneven figures on the ticklish skin.

“How about now?” He repeated. You stammered, unsure of what to say. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” Aware of your awkwardness and the rising heat in your cheeks, he stood up, walking back to his chair. “But I do want to get you something, would you let me?”

With your mind busy and your guard low, you nodded, unaware of the silly smile on his face.

“I have a few novels on my shelf in case you want something to kill time.”

“Thank you.” You moved to the huge bookshelf facing his desk, grateful your face wasn't visible anymore.

The books were ordered by genre and size, starting from the biggest law-related textbooks to pocket-sized novels, ending with the smallest one he had. The little prince.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Yoonoh didn't seem to be the type to read that kind of heartbreaking yet beautiful book. Nonetheless, as many said, you can't judge a book by its cover.

An hour or two later, you were halfway into the first book of flowers in the attic, immersed in the small world the author had created. Yoonoh had finished his work a few minutes before, but distracting you when you were reading so vividly, seemed like a crime. He enjoyed the way your eyebrows would knit together every time something shocking happened, clearly too immersed in the novel to notice his intense gaze.

“Y/n...” He whispered once he noticed you were starting a new chapter. You blinked twice, hands clutching the book tightly as you noticed he had finished his work. “You can take it home, don't worry.”

“Sure?” He flashed his pretty dimples as his eyes turned into half-moons.

“You can come back for the rest of the saga when you finish this one. Take as many books as you please, I’ve already read them all.”

“Thank you.” Another act of kindness you had no way of returning. His favors just seemed to be piling up before you could even return any. “Would you like to have dinner with me today? I'm a great cook, or so did my father said.” You blurted out quickly, twisting your hands nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I’d love to. But I might have to attend some work calls if you don't mind.”

“I don't, maybe I'll even have time to bake a cake while you're at it.” God, how bad he wanted to take a picture of that adorably nervous smile.

“Great, so it's settled. Dinner at your place after we go shopping.” He had already put his blazer on, offering his arm to guide you out. With shaky fingers and sweaty armpits, you grabbed it, walking by his side with his secretary’s gazed glued on you. So much for a girl, huh?

Once seated in his car, with the book resting on your lap, you allowed yourself to relax. Yoonoh wasn't a bad person, on the contrary, he was very kind, so there was no use in keeping your guard up when he was around.

“Ready to roll?” You cringed at his use of slang, making him drop his head back to laugh. “What? Isn't it a thing you cool young adults say?”

“Maybe twenty years ago, Yoonoh.” It was the very first time you used his name so informally, and, oh how good it felt to hear you saying it?

“Fine, I won't use it anymore.” He poked your arm like a little child, and for a moment, you wondered if he was actually more than a decade older.

Several bad jokes, two dresses, and a quick stop at the grocery store later, you arrived at your apartment. Yoonoh held everything while you entered the passcode, struggling not to drop a can of vegetables that was starting to bend the edge of the paper bag.

“Ready, hand me something.” You both entered with your hands packed with different things. You went to your room to leave the new dresses while Yoonoh set the paper bags down on the kitchen counter.

“So...” He clapped loudly. “What are we cooking?”

“I bought the ingredients for lasagna. Is that okay with you?” He nodded, lips pressed and dimples in display. “Alright, let's do this.”

It would've been of great help if Yoonoh had told you he didn't know how to cook. But of course, part of the fault was yours for not noticing when he tried to add ketchup to the recipe.

“I burnt it.” He looked at the semi-carbonized pasta with disgust, feeling ashamed of having ruined your dish. “Let’s just throw it away and order something.” He was about to touch the hot container until your grip on his wrist halted his movements.

“We just pulled it out of the oven.” You shook your head in disbelief at the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry.”

Despite Yoonoh’s endless complaining, you ate the lasagna. The flavor wasn't that bad when you scratched off the burnt parts, especially when accompanied by a cold glass of wine.

“It’s not that bad.” You repeated over and over again. A phone call interrupted him from self-pitying any further. “Go on, take it.” You continued eating while he spoke in the living room.

It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that you realized he was whisper yelling at whoever was on the other line. It was your first time seeing him angry, and you didn't like it one bit. The way his face turned completely stoic, his eyes cold as his hand rested on his hip. Sweet, caring, Yoonoh was gone.

“I told you I needed it for today.” He said through gritted teeth. “You better get it before I arrive back at the office, or you can find yourself another job.” Even after he hung up, Yoonoh stood in the middle of the shared area, clutching his phone so tightly, it seemed like it would break any minute.

You wanted to ask if everything was alright, if he needed any help, but most importantly, if the things he needed were related to your father's case, but all the words stuck to your throat like insects in a spider web.

“I need to go.” He simply said, not even bothering to fake a smile. “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you on Friday.” With his free hand, he grabbed the coat hanging from his chair and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Was that the real Yoonoh?

A shiver ran down your spine. What had you gotten into? From what you'd seen, it was only about time he would show his true self to you as well.

All the trust you'd built up during the day, had crumbled down in a matter of seconds. The worst part? You didn't even feel entitled to be scared, not after all he'd done for you.

‘Just keep your distance.’ You repeated like a mantra as you got ready for bed, leaving the book you'd borrowed right where he'd left it, afraid it would burn your fingertips even with the slightest touch.

(...)

The week wasn't nearly as long as you'd wanted it to be, and soon enough, you were struggling to zip the dress you'd bought days ago. Your makeup was done, and Yoonoh had texted you he was on his way, yet, you'd been fighting with the zipper for at least ten minutes. Your fingers were cramping, and the clock was ticking.

Just when you'd finally started to drag the small piece of metal, the doorbell startled you, causing you to let go of it.

“Fuck!” Have you ever felt so desperate that tears start pricking your eyes? Well, that was the exact case happening at the moment.

You opened the door with the salty water collecting at the corner of your eyes, surprising Yoonoh, who was wearing his best dimply smile.

“What’s wrong?” He had a bouquet poorly hidden behind his back, probably to apologize for the night he abruptly left and almost knocked down your door.

“I-I can't zip up my dress.” Your voice came out shaky, giving away the emotions burning your gut. Thankfully, Yoonoh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't mention it.

“I’ll help you.” He, not-so-discretely, put down the bouquet, gently turning you around to your discomfort. His cold hands touched your back as he dragged the zip up, noticing how tense you were but deciding not to comment on it. “Oh! You haven't moved the book from where I left it.”

“I haven't had time to read.” He hummed, crouching to reach for the bouquet and hand it to you. “Thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing for the fit I threw a couple of days ago.” A fit? That was one way to call it.

“It’s okay.” You lied as you pushed the corners of your lips to form a credible smile. “Let’s get going.”

The flowers were left on the kitchen counter before you left. The ride in the elevator was awfully quiet, and Yoonoh had no idea what had happened. You were so chatty the last time he saw you, so of course, he was taken aback by the sudden change.

“It’s not going to take long, so we can head out for some drinks later if you'd like...” You nodded, for you knew speaking would only expose your discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just nervous about the party, that's all.”

You stood by Yoonoh’s side for the rest of the evening, smiling and nodding at his acquaintances’ comments. At one point in the evening, a man, not much older than you, approached you both with a wide smile.

“Dude, I hadn't seen you in ages. Stop sending your workers and come see me yourself.” They hugged. Why were they hugging?

“Y/n, this is my brother, Sungchan.” The man with puppy-like eyes embraced you tightly, almost as if welcoming you to his family. “Sungchan, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” He said it so naturally, it’d take a detective to figure out the truth about your relationship.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I'm sorry for your father. But don't worry, we'll take those bastards down.”

“I’m not following...” You blinked repeatedly, eyes going back and forth between Yoonoh and his brother.

“Sungchan is a doctor. I asked him to look at your father's case for further evidence. My assistant was supposed to pick up the report the day we had dinner, but she forgot to drop by. Now we’re a day behind schedule.” The dark cloud surrounding him seemed to be slowly dissipating as you heard his explanation. “This is an important case, and I want to be as meticulous as possible.”

Thank you didn't seem the right thing to say at the moment, at least not with Sungchan standing there, so you simply grabbed his hand, squeezing it to let him know how grateful you were.

To your surprise, he didn't even flinch as he locked your hands together, causing a small giggle from Sungchan.

“Okay, love birds, I'll get going.” He waved you goodbye, making his way to another table where his friend waited for him.

“Can we talk?” You whispered in his ear, afraid one of the numerous attendants would hear you.

“Sure.” Without letting go of your hand, he drove you to a small, private garden just outside the ballroom. “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?” His thumb caressed your knuckles with gentle strokes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I pushed you away at the minimum trouble when you were only helping me.” He hummed as if he already knew about it. “And it will probably happen again, so please, be patient with me. I'm going through-” Your face collided against his chest as his arms draped over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly.

“Call me reckless, but I've wanted to do this for a while.” Your hands hung at the sides of your torso, unsure what to do next. “You can push me away, I'll understand...”

Instead, your palm found its place in his back, rubbing up and down the designer jacket. Your hair started turning messy from the night breeze, some strands striking Yoonoh’s chin as his embrace only grew tighter.

“Let’s get out of here.” He mumbled, crawling the back of your head with his hand. “Sungchan can deal with my father's friends.”

“Are you sure?” His hum vibrated through his chest, making you giggle at the odd feeling.

Once seated in his car, his hand found yours like a magnet, the warmth emanating from it comfortably enveloping your skin.

The calmness of the atmosphere was interrupted by a call from his brother, who seemed to be anxiously explaining something through the phone.

“Just tell him I had a work emergency.” With that said, he hung up, placing his hand back again on top of yours. “Sorry, he said it was urgent.”

���It’s okay.” An unsettling feeling pinched your stomach, but you decided to dismiss it, immersed in the chilly weather of the dark streets.

You arrived at the river, where Yoonoh asked you to wait for him while he bought a couple of beers. It was a sight to see, both of you clad in fancy clothes, barefoot and chugging down can after can.

“I think I like being with you.” You declared, mind fuzzy from the alcohol intake.

“I think I like it too.” The tips of his ears were rosy, revealing he was as intoxicated as you, maybe even more.

“Would you like to visit my father with me tomorrow?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even realize. Afraid you'd killed the mood, you tried to excuse yourself, only to be interrupted by his lips grazing your ear, placing a timid kiss on your lobe.

“I’d love to.” It was the sweetest peck, no ulterior motives behind it, just pure affection.

“Are we going too fast?” In your drunken state, what you had felt like a real relationship, not a simple agreement. And this sure felt like a first date.

“We’re moving at our own pace, I believe.” He dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing against it to relieve the dizziness clouding his mind. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you don't want to be with an old creep like me, and I'd totally get it. Just don't let me get my hopes up if that's the case.”

“You might be old, but definitely not a creep.” Your fingers combed through his abundant hair as your mind wandered into the future, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't become bald soon. “Or are you?”

“I don't think so.” Anyone who walked by would've seen a couple of goofs, too intoxicated to talk without slurring the words, but you were living in your own, comfy bubble. “I should get you home before it gets too late. Come on, I'll call a driver.” He tried getting on his feet to no avail, stumbling back a little before falling back on his ass.

“My apartment is nearby. You can stay for the night.” You grabbed both pairs of shoes as his arm surrounded your shoulder for assistance. “If you keep supporting your whole weight on me, we're both gonna fall.” People on the street shot you a couple of funny looks, which was understandable since it wasn't usual to see two drunk idiots walking barefoot in the middle of the night.

“How long till-” Hiccup. “-we get there?” His stare seemed to worsen with every step. “God, I think I might throw up.”

“Stop acting like a teenager, we're almost there.”

As soon as you arrived at the small apartment, you sat him down on the little step where you changed your shoes. You left both pairs on the rack, proceeding to put on slippers to enter the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” He whined, stomping his feet like a little kid.

“Just wait for a second!” His attitude was starting to get on your nerves to the point where you couldn't feel the effects of the beer anymore.

You grabbed a rag from the kitchen cabinet and dampened it under the sink. Yoonoh was half asleep when you walked back to him.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled as you sat in front of him, placing his left foot on your lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have any slippers that will fit you, and I don't want your dirty feet making my house dirty.” With utmost delicacy, you wiped away the dirt from his toes, noticing the small scratches caused by the gravel he walked on.

He touched your hair while you finished with his other foot, tangling the strands with fascination.

“Done, get up.”

He followed your indications as you guided him to your room, where you laid him down on his side in case he threw up.

“Are we visiting your father tomorrow?” He asked while snuggling under the covers.

“Sure.” You cleared his forehead from the strands falling in it, grazing the soft skin of his forehead. “Sweet dreams, gigantic baby.”

[farkmagic]

My BRUH @jayjaymorgan wrote sum angsty sht and wanted me to draw an illustration.

So here we go again

Author's Note : this is my second time writing something that will be published anywhere - so far the feedback has been really nice and I really hope it stays that way. Please remember that English isn't my native language and I wrote it in one day, so there might be some mistakes and stuff. I hope you all like it, have a great day/night!

TW : mention of severe injury, near death experience

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

No Siths, no tactical droids, just a couple of clankers and geonosians. General Skywalker and 501st had to steal some plans and destroy the small base on the planet’s surface, that’s all.

When they realized that someone lied to them about their opponents numbers, it was already too late. The whole squad was sitting on a small landing platform, surrounded by droids, trying their best to take cover and survive until the rescue arrives. Rex and Anakin were trapped on the opposite side of the platform, without any support.

The worst part of all... Grievous unexpectedly showed up.

Rex was the first one to spot him, but he didn’t have time to warn the general, who was trying to protect his men from droids. Anakin was too busy deflecting bullets to notice the cyborg getting dangerously close.

Only when he was shot in his left arm and turned around did he notice the Sith. Instinctively he raised his saber to block Grievous’s death blow, but it was so strong it knocked the blade out of his hand. Anakin lost his balance and stepped back, which saved his life. Cyborg’s claws, that were aiming at his neck, ripped open his side, from his ribs to lower hip. Skywalker doubled over, pressing his hands against the wound that gushed blood, taking a few steps back. There was shock on his face, like he couldn't believe what was happening, as he watched the blood dripping onto the metal floor of the landing platform.

Rex froze in place, watching it from afar; only he noticed the fight, the rest of the squad was busy fighting with the clankers. He could feel the blood draining from his face, he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, his mind was screaming at him to do something, anything, but he couldn’t move.

He could only watch, as Grievous attacked again, pushing the man from the platform.

He could only watch, as his beloved hit the ground, painting the sand red.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even when one of the droid’s almost shot him.

Only when he heard Grievous laughing sinisterly he finally snapped out of it. His blood boiled with rage, as he slowly stood up, tossing his empty pistol to the side.

When the cyborg bent down to pick up Anakin’s saber, all hell broke loose.

For a moment all Rex saw was red.

The next thing he knew, he was ripping off one of Grievous’s four arms. The alien growled angrily and hit the clone with his claws, scratching his face. Rex ignored it and twisted the metal appendage, breaking it in half. Sith yelled and punched him in the face, breaking his nose. Rex’s eyes watered, as he stumbled back, giving Grievous the opportunity to escape; he dashed to the hangar and disappeared, leaving the droids to fend for themselves.

He could hear his brothers screaming in surprise and joy, as the separatist droids started to back away. The clones resumed the fire, making their way back into the base, placing the explosives on the walls and ceiling of the base.

Rex jumped to his feet and rushed to the edge of the platform, as he unhooked the rope from his belt and quickly tied it around a metal bar, preparing to go down and check on his boyfriend. His hands were trembling uncontrollably and tears started to fill his eyes, his mind racing.

Rex didn’t even wait for his feet to touch the ground; he jumped the last three or four meters down and then, ignoring the pain in his ankle, ran towards Anakin.

His heart sank.

Blood was everywhere; the sand around Skywalker was crimson-red, his clothes torn on his left side, reveling deep claw marks. There was a big gash on his head, he probably hit his head while falling, there was blood coming from his nose and even ear. He was pale as a sheet, dark circles started to appear under his eyes.

But he was still breathing.

Rex fell to his knees, trying to not look at the deep wounds, and gently touched Anakin’s face.

His skin was so cold.

“Ani?” he choked out, as tears started to stream down his face. “Ani... please, wake up.”

The Jedi didn’t react, he was unconscious and losing blood at alarming speed.

Rex picked up his radio communicator, his eyes still focused on Anakin’s face.

“Kix? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir. Loud and clear.” the medic said. “We’re almost done with the explosives, the plans are downloaded and secured.”

“General needs medical help.” Rex tried his best to act calm, but it was getting harder and harder with every passing second. “Track my location and hurry, he doesn’t have much time.”

“Roger that. The transport arrived, we’ll be there in a moment.”

How could it go so terribly wrong?

This question was repeating in Rex’s head, as he tried his best to keep Anakin’s head and neck still.

Tears were streaming down his face, mixing with blood and falling down on the unconscious man’s face. Choked sobs were escaping his lips, while he scanned the sky with his eyes, waiting for help.

“Hold on, help is coming” he whispered over and over again, even though Anakin couldn’t hear him. “Please, just hold on... They’re gonna fix you up, I promise, just...”

...just don’t leave me.

[snake-snacc]

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Topic: The "Fuckboy" thing 

DISCLAIMER: This is my opinion and my thoughts! You are free to have a different opinion! Take it with a little bit of humour!

forgive my bad english

You know what guys? I think it's kinda funny how a part of the Twisted Wonderland Fandom really goes with "Yes XY is a total fuckboy! You see it in his eyes!" And from what I saw the most characters that get into this discussion are Leona, Malleus, Ace, Jamil and Floyd. BUT LET ME BURST YOUR BUBBLES GUYS AND LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE REAL "FUCKBOY" OF TWISTED WONDERLAND!

First of all, I'm gonna tell you why the pretty boys above are not really fit for the title of "Fuckboy". :3 [I will refer often to female partners but I try to keep it gender neutral most times!]

Let's start with the sleepy the lion, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— No, my argument is not that he's too lazy. No, no. But he probably was raised to totally respect women. He even stated that he is afraid of the women in his homeland because they are pretty tough ladys! So, they wouldn't hesitate to slap a bitch if they find out he fucks around and leaves them heart broken 

— Also, he probably doesn't have the strength or the motivation to handle all the drama 

Next! Horny (no pun intended) boy, MALLEUS DRACONIA

— Let's be honest, he probably doesn't know how to really communicate with people, beside Yuu/MC, Lilia and maybe the rest of his dorm. Yes he can talk to others but get them into bed? I don't think so. 

— He probably doesn't even know what even kissing is 

Next boy! ACE TRAPPOLA 

— He would go all out about stuff like "Yes, I totally would bang that girl/that boy" but in the moment the person would be stripping down in front of him, with the intention to do naughty stuff with him, he would panic. He would straight up panic and would get out of there

— Look at him. He doesn't even know how to use his dick

Next Boy! JAMIL (I'm a whore for you) VIPER

— As sad as it makes me, this pretty boy is way to stressed for fucking around! He couldn't even use it as a stress relief because while doing it, he would stress himself with stuff like "Is this good enough? Do I have enough time left? Does Kalim need help? Is the food ready?" 

— Plus I see him more as a "I choose a partner and stay by their side" kinda guy. But even then he wouldn't get a partner because he knows he wouldn't have time for them so he doesn't even starts dating

Next and last! FLOYD LEECH

— He would start it, get bored and leave. Facts. This boy would just straight up leave the second his partner wouldn't play along. Maybe he even just goes before they even started because "I don't want to anymore" 

— His mood swings would keep the people away from him and I don't see that he really appeals to all the naughty stuff

SO! Now that I bursted your bubbles, let me tell you about the real "Fuckboy" from Twisted Wonderland…

*dramatic music* 

……

(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞KALIM AL-ASIM!☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)

Yeah I know I know

"But he is so baby and naive and innocent!"- quit that! No! He is not! Yes he is very naive, but in the way to trust and believe people way too easy and to believe they wouldn't do bad things twice. (This whole chapter broke my heart… my poor boys! ;-;)

But let me explain to you, why Kalim is (in my eyes) the one that should/could wear the title "Fuckboy": 

— Let's start at the beginning: From what we know he has over 30 siblings, is probably the oldest, so there for he saw his Dad with the Mom. Or should I say, the Moms?! Kalims Dad probably had more than one wife, and not like "She died, or, we fell apart after 10 years", no, probably like "you look pretty, give birth to my kids, you are my wife now for a few years". (My theory/opinion on what kind of dad he has) So he had an Idol which had more women on his hands that a normal man would ever. I can see that Kalim is totally used to stuff like that from his homeland, his familie, and that the idea/concept of multiple partners at the same time is something totally normal to him. 

— He will be the next Sultan. You can't tell me the girls at his homeland didn't throw themselves at him at some point of his life. "Oh you're so handsome~ And so sweet~ omg you make me laugh~", etc. And with his carefree and happy nature he probably doesn't even have a problem with that. "Oh thank you, you too ^^ Your hair is so pretty, your eyes are enchanting~", etc. 

— If this sweet, so happy, smiling boy would throw a party and ask a random girl to dance with him, they wouldn't say no. They would dance with him, smile and be happy. He could get all of them wrapped around his little finger, by just smiling and asking nicely. Yes he is a little over the top sometimes, but that probably don't stand in his way

— If he doesn't get what he wants, he cries. He is so used to getting what he wants the second he recommends it, that a "No sorry, I don't want to dance/talk/come over" would be the instant start of big, wet puppy eyes and stuff like "But it would make me so happy! We could have soooo much fun! *sobbing*" (He kinda is a pick me boy not gonna lie, but i love him) and who wants a happy nature like Kalim to cry? No one! (Besides Jamil) So they would probably feel bad and be like ".. Okay.. just this one time.. and not so long.." and in the end they would be at his side for more hours then they could count. 

— I can see that if he would directly ask for a person to come with him in his room and they say no, that he would be kinda sad. Puppy eyes and everything BUT he knows that he can't force people to do that stuff with him, so he just gets sad and is like "Can we at least cuddle..?" And you know what? In the end it's not just a cuddle. BUT WITH CONSENT! He respects a No, but he can't do anything about it if the person changes their mind because little Kalim is all sweet talk and praise while cuddling

— Fact is, Kalim would totally flirt talk or at least very flirty praise people without even realising. (I mean.. have you ever listened closely to how he talks about Jamil..? Way to much praise and simpness) You know, while just casual dancing with them, out of nowhere something like "Your body looks so beautiful in this light and the way it moves, mesmerising" 

— Because of his "It's totally normal to have multiple partners" thingy, I can see him just living that. Party here, party there, oh you look pretty, you're mine now. And yes he knows some would just be at his side for the chance of getting some money, but why would he care? He doesn't plan to marry one of them. He would care for that when it comes to the one he should marry and when he finds out they are just after him because of the money, yeah, well bye bye then 

— He is probably in general way too touchy with people, so accidents happen, right?~ (that sounds wrong) I mean with that, that probably some people would get his closeness a little wrong think he is interested in them, so they get interested and in the end, Fun~ 

— He calls people casually with sweet nicknames. He called Yuu/MC "My Love". So why wouldn't he just call other people too by stuff like that? The pretty dancer lady he had invited with the green eyes? "My shining emerald" The handsome boy he met at a feast in his homeland with the sun-kissed skin? "My golden sunshine" 

— Just saying, who in his Homeland, from the young ladys that need to get married and stuff, wouldn't instantly say yes, if Kalim would ask them to spend time with him? The moment he would invite them into the palast, they would fall in love with him (or his money) 

— He knows how the world is working. Money does big things. A soft smile, a nice ask and a little bit of "One night at the Sultans Palace / One night treated like a princess/prince, getting served from servants" and he has a partner. Kalim isn't stupid, maybe school related stuff, but not about life. 

— By the way: "One night treated like a princess/prince", come one. Tell me this boy wouldn't absolutely treat his partner, even just one night stands, like total princesses/princes. He would praise them so much, tell them all the way how beautiful they are, how they are his treasure right now. Surely he could also go easily into the mood of "Serve me I'm the Prince", but I think he would make this the first few times by accident (because he was taught to be served from everyone) but quickly realize that that's not how it works.

— Facit:

Kalim could easily be a Fuckboy, or a very popular and successful Pick me Boy. But I think he would get himself in the way with his "I don't do that on purpose" nature. 

[lyracasstuff]

I am NOT prepared to make myself sad,, you FRENCHIE!! ಥ⌣ಥ

However,, I will accept because as much as it pains me to write angst,, I also have to in order to improve my writing skills..

I'll do this in one shot/fic form as I feel as though I can convey emotions there better. That and I've been doing headcannons as of late,, so let's switch it up a notch..

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, SPOILERS FOR JOSEPH'S BACKSTORY

Joseph x fem! S/o

To be Sick at Heart💔

"How did this all happen?" thought the Frenchman, although it was more retorical, as he already knew deep down the answer to that question... He just can't accept it..

You had been an acquaintance to Joseph before, seeing as how your family served him, and the both of you only grew closer once you got caught in the twisted "games" of the manor. Joseph asked as to what had tempted you to accept the invitation of the manor.

It turns out, you were looking to find people who you can treat as your own family. In all your life, you practically had been treated like dirt, especially the time when Joseph had gone missing. Your family had given you love and acceptance, but it was short-lived seeing as how their lives were slowly taken from them early on in your life by sickness, you had no one but the other servants to take care of you.

The other servants cared for you, but not to the same extent as your family... You were aware of that fact as did they. So, when the invitation arrived, you couldn't help but accept right away.

It promised that "they" could fulfill your desire of having the bonds and relationships that you never had growing up, why wouldn't you accept? You would be missing out on a golden oppurtunity.

And so, that was how you ended up in this morbid manor, tricked and forced to participate in these "games" that gets everyone hurt much like every other survivor who came here...

Days had gone by. Weeks. Months. Hell, even years, and you were all still being forced to play.

Thankfully, you had everyone to keep you company during these times.. Thanks to your loving nature, you were able to be close with everyone in the manor, even those who are notorious at being secretive like Norton. You even managed to befriend some of the hunters as well.

But most especially of all, you were thankful you had Joseph to be there with you.

You were quite shocked when you saw the silver-haired count, as he had seemingly disappeared out of nowhere the last time. So to see him here made you pleasantly surprised.

Joseph as well felt shocked when he saw you here, albeit he took some time to figure who exactly you were as you looked extremely familiar to him.

It didn't take long for the both of you to grow close to each other where outside of matches, you two were practically inseperable. The both of you would be spotted having afternoon tea together, walking around the manor together, sightseeing for new photoshoot locations together.

You always did things together...

Over time though, you would grow feelings for the count and the same can be said for Joseph as well. However, your fears of being rejected has delayed the both of you from ever confessing about your feelings toward each other. The others in the manor can most definitely see your connection as bright as day, but they really didn't know how to go about helping you about it. After all, all of them never really had great experiences in their lives, so they don't know what would normally be best in a situation like this..

Despite this, you can't help but feel content and happy that you have found people that you can treat as your family. Emily and Michiko were like motherly figures to you with their kind nature. Leo treated you like his own daughter, much like how he treats Emma. Wu Chang, Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Eli were like big brothers for you, always being protective of you to keep you safe.

You really felt at home with all of the inhabitants. It almost felt as if being stuck in a manor wasn't so bad after all...

Almost

There was still one more thing you wanted to do. You had discovered your family, but you wanted to expand on that desire..

You wanted to start your own family

And you would want to do so with someone you love... That someone would be the Frenchman with whom you have grown immense feelings for.. So you sent him an invitation to go to the balcony of the garden at night, where you won't be disturbed by the others...

Unbeknownst to you, the Frenchman had been thinking the same thing, especially after reading the invitation you sent him. Can you blame him though? Seeing you interacting with him, along with all of the others, made him feel butterflies in his stomach. How you unconditionally helped the other inhabitants through their issues and suffering, not because you needed something from them, but because you wanted to. You wanted to help them, you wanted to nurture them, you wanted to support them...

With that feeling alone, Joseph finds that he just couldn't take it anymore... He wants to confess to you..

He wants to be with you, to call you his love, to marry you and call you his wife, and to start a family as well..

With that thought, he made up his mind and decided to accept your invitation, and there, he will confess..

It was night time, you were already at the balcony waiting, knowing that Joseph values punctuality and doesn't like to be kept waiting. Soon after, Joseph shows up. It seems as though he had been brisk walking which is evident by the way he's catching his breath in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and calmly began to confess your feelings towards him and how you wanted to start building a future with him as the father of your children.

Joseph was in awe, for he had never could've guessed that you felt the same way. He accepted, saying how he had always thought about you the same way, and that he would be honored to be the father of your children. Joseph took a few steps towards you, with you unconsciously doing the same. Joseph wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

He lifted his hand and tilted your chin upwards to stare at your features, admiring them. The way your skin glistened in the moonlight, how your eyes sparkled with life when he stared at them. How your cheeks were flushed with the slightest hint of color.

You looked angelic to him.

Brushing his thumb over your lower lip, he slowly closed his eyes as he allowed his lips to connect with yours.. You can't help but reciprocate immediately, you'd been waiting for this moment to come. You truly felt happy that you took the risk to confess to him, knowing that he may have rejected you instead.

And that was the start of your blossoming relationship...

For the next few years, the two of you became more and more in love with each other every single day. Countless affirmations of love, bouquets of your favorite flowers, numerous cuddling sessions, along with the discussion of having a domestic life together..

You two really had the potential to have a wonderful life together...

But, there are repercussions in growing fond of the potential...

One time at a match, you had been feeling dizzier and more nauseous by the second, so much so that it frequently disoriented you from kiting the hunter properly. At some point even, you threw up a bit. Your team still won the match since the hunter decided to go friendly in the end because of your condition, however they were still concerned for you so they sent you immediately to Emily.

You were diagnosed to be pregnant..

Your thoughts immediately went to Joseph. A mixture of joy and anxiousness washed over you. Can be a good mother for your child? Can you really do this? Can you really start a family like you had promised? What if you do something wrong? What if you're not cut out for this?

Just as your thoughts began to generate more questions, Joseph runs in and looks over to you with wide eyes. Emily must've told him that you were pregnant with his child. He immediately went towards your bed and hugged you as he sobbed his heart out.

He was so convinced that the bright future you two head towards is certain...

Oh, how a fool he was for believing so....

2 months in and your belly hasn't been growing rapidly.. Normally, you would've had a small baby bump forming on your belly... Joseph and Emily had been constantly reassuring you that you might need to readjust your diet more to fit your baby's needs....

But, that's not the only thing bothering you...

You see, just as you haven't "developed" your baby, your dizziness and nausea didn't go away. For quite sometime, you thought it was normal.....

Until you see tiny specks and droplets of blood on your hand...

That's when you realize....

You're not actually pregnant.. You're sick...

Having this sudden realization, you quickly washed your hand and looked at yourself in the mirror... Maybe this was some sort of mistake? Maybe you're actually pregnant and you just scratched the inside of your cheek?

You were hoping. Praying, that it was anything else other than a sickness... However, as time passed, you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker...

For months, you had kept this sickness of yours a secret. You didn't want to make anyone worry about you and you especially didn't want to disappoint Joseph with the fact that you're not actually carrying a baby or make him devastated with your death just as he became devastated with his twin brother's death...

However, try as you may, the longer you kept it a secret, the more the others noticed. How your skin was getting paler, how your cheeks had started to sink in, how you became alarmingly skinnier and bonier, how your eyes became more dull and lifeless...

Most importantly, at how you became increasingly more secretive and quiet about all this.

Joseph was by far being more and more anxious than before. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but even he could notice that this isn't normal for a pregnancy..

Quickly carrying you to Emily, he asked for a check-up to see what was happening. You would've stopped him if it weren't for the fact that you were so weak, you couldn't move a muscle without hurting it.. There, he was informed about the condition you're in. He was just as shocked as you are, but there's a mixture of fear and hopelessness bubbling inside him...

No. He couldn't let this happen. Not again...

His breathing starts going rapid, his hands start shaking, he hugs himself as he looks at you at your weakened state with tears threatening to spill from his eyes...

Just as he was about to confront you, Victor had entered and pointed towards the main hall, signaling Joseph and Emily to go there.

Apparently, there's a meeting that's going to be held.

Joseph and Emily looked at each other before turning to look at you. Then, they quickly left the room, with you all alone inside with nothing but your thoughts and the life within you.. Or, what's left of it...

The meeting started once Joseph and Emily arrived as they were the only ones left to attend. Emily had to quickly explain your condition when some of the others questioned your whereabouts.. All were quite shocked and concerned about your sickness, however the meeting was said to be an important one so they had to stay. They'll just have to relay the information given to you by the time it's done..

After the meeting, everyone was so shocked and confused that for several moments, no one said a word.. Who wouldn't though? Because after all this time...

They were all finally free

Free from the clutches of the manor, free from the twisted "games", free from the prison that presented itself as a grand oppurtunity for everyone to get what they want.

They were free at last... Now, they can all live their lives as they want it to be...

Suddenly realizing this, Joseph quickly made his way back to your room. There was still hope he thought, he had hoped for you to get better and finally leave this prison together, along with the others.

But what he saw when he opened the door made him feel like his heart had been crushed into a million pieces...

There in your room, was you lying in your bed, breath shallow and rapid, crimson blood dripping from the side of your mouth and staining the sheets, your eyes looking duller and duller as ever...

You were grasping..

Grasping for whatever life you had left within you, it made Joseph run to your side quickly as he cradled your head in his arms, proclaiming you'll be fine and that you're all free now and that you just need to hold on for a little while longer..

But you both know that you won't make it..

You both know that Joseph is more so convincing himself, than convincing you..

The others had rushed in to see you, and they too were crushed for they also wished for you to escape with all of them...

You held Joseph's hand, and told him not to worry anymore.. Looking towards the others, you proclaimed that you had finally found the people that you can call your family, and that even if Joseph can't see you, you'll always be there for him no matter what.. And that you wish for him to be happy and enjoy his newfound freedom, without the confinements of the manor...

Joseph begged you to stay, to hang on, to stay strong, all while sobbing uncontrollably but to no avail...

You withdrew your final breath as your hand became limp, your eyes closed, and your body going cold...

...

...

...

You had died

For the second time in his life, he once again witnessed the death of someone he deeply cared about..

First Claude......... And now, you....

Joseph lost it as he let all his tears and sadness out.. Everyone, soon followed suit. They can't help but be crushed at the thought of their friend never making it on time for the escape....

The now former inhabitants of the manor prepared one last funeral in honor of your death, with Aesop embalming you, Andrew preparing the hole from which will forever be your resting place, Emma preparing the funeral flowers, while the others prepared the venue... The Red Church.. Everyone gathered and mourned for your death. By the end of it all, everyone left the cemetery and the manor together, with Joseph gripping a bar of the gate, longing to see you again once more and hoping that you were still alive somehow...

Alas, it never came. And so, he reluctantly left the manor and had trenched forward to live his life "to the fullest"...

But how can he ever live his life as he pleases when you're not around? How can he simply enjoy the pleasures of life when you aren't there to accompany him? How can he move on when he doesn't want to forget you?

These thoughts plague him constantly, as he stirs his tea mindlessly, looking into the distance, as his new "family" were chatting happily, not knowing what goes on inside his head..

He has a family now alright, but it wasn't perfect.. It wasn't with you.

That thought is enough to make him sick at heart, for he will never experience the joy he had longed for when you were still around...

Sick at Heart : to experience deep unpleasant emotions such as grief or disappointment

💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞

Author's Note: I hope you are all satisfied with this angst, Frenchie... Because you really made my day a bit sadder than usual..

Can someone pls request something fluffy the next time I open my requests?? I need some comforting chocolate cake after that bitter black coffee moment..(╥_╥)

Well,, until next time then! See you all in my next post!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)💚

[neptunetheplanet7]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, arguing

italics means flashback/memory recall

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

The party ended but the yelling didn't stop. It had been about an hour since everyone left and about three since Eren saw Jean last. You were picking up a mess in the kitchen with Eren when he slammed his hands on the counter.

You jumped up and your eyes snapped towards him. His head was lowered and his breathing was ragged.

"Eren?" You made your way to his side of the room and placed a gentle hand on his arm. He turned to face you.

"Sorry." He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a hug. Your hands around his shoulders while his head rested in the crook of your neck. "When will they stop?" His voice was muffled against your skin.

You sighed, "I don't know. I hope soon or before Armin gets home at least." Your right hand carefully made its way into his gnarled hair.

He let out a huff against your shoulder. "Let's try to get some sleep, Eren. We can stay in the basement tonight, yeah?" You whispered. He nodded and pulled back.

The yelling coming from Mikasa's room grew louder as you passed the stairs. You opened the basement door and followed Eren down the stairs.

"You can take the bed." You offered and slumped on the couch. Eren nodded and waved sleepily while heading to the basement bedroom.

The next morning Armin had woken you up in a panic. "Y/n! Y/n, wake up!"

"What? What's going on?" You sat up, alert now.

"Mikasa's gone! Jean said she only left a letter. What the hell happened last night?" Armin's eyes were wide and he was visibly stressed.

"Mikasa's what? What do you mean she's gone? She can't be gone. Where's the letter? Did you read it?" You stood and gripped Armin's shoulders.

"Jean has the letter. She wasn't here when I came home and he was sitting on the stairs with it in his hand."

"When did you get home?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes ago."

You let go of Armin and scrambled up the stairs as fast as you could. Your eyes darted around for Jean when you saw he wasn't on the stairs like Armin had left him. 

"Jean? Jean where the hell are you?"  You were panicked.

The air started to feel stale as you racked your mind for an answer. Where was Jean? Where was Mikasa? Why did she leave so suddenly? What was in the letter? Would you get to find out? When will she come back? Why didn't she say goodbye?

You walked fast-paced through your house, searching for Jean. When you got to the kitchen, you noticed a stray piece of paper on the counter. You picked it up and realized it was what you thought it was.

Mikasa's tear-stained letter was in your hands.

"Dear friends, I'm leaving. Expect not to see me for a long time. I have a lot to think about. I can't be in the band right now. Not like this. Jean- I don't want to see you. Eren- I hope you'll forgive me. Armin- Go see the sea. Y/n- If only you knew. With love, Mikasa."

Your hand had come up to your mouth while processing her letter. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the realization sunk in. She was really gone and you had no idea when you'd get to see her again.

"Y/n, wake up. You fell asleep. We're at your house." Sasha nudged you and you were brought back to reality. Somewhere along the road, you and her switched spots so now you were on the passenger side.

"Ah, my neck hurts." You said bitterly while rubbing the spot your neck was previously, and unfortunately, resting on the door.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you fall asleep in a car," Connie spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You flicked his forehead. "Hey, what'd you do that for?" He clawed at his head.

You said your goodbyes to the two and entered your house. It was now late afternoon, and Eren was back home.

"Where the hell have you been, tootsie? You look awful." He pointed his spoonful of Nutella at me in disgust. 

"Thanks, Eren. You're a real charmer." You gave a sarcastic smile before grabbing a spoon and joining him on the counter. "I've been out with Sasha and Connie. Where have you been all day?"

"Mind your business, L/n." 

You scoffed as he shoved the Nutella into your arms. "The hypocrisy." You muttered.

"Why isn't this house clean?" He looked at the living room and raised his hands in mock outrage.

"I'm not a cleaning lady! If you want it cleaned so badly, do it yourself!" You twisted the Nutella cap back on the container and tossed your spoon into the sink.

"But whenever I do it, you say it's wrong!" He whined.

"Eren, the dryer sheets go over the dryer and the detergent goes over the washing machine! What is so hard to grasp about that? That's how it's always been! But you probably wouldn't know, since you never do your own laundry." You clutched the counter in annoyance. 

"They're both on the same shelf! What's the issue?" He said, exasperated.

"What are you two on about?" Armin sauntered into the room and sat on a kitchen stool.

"Eren can't clean for shit."

"Hey!" He glared. You stuck your tongue out in his direction.

Armin laughed lowly. "You guys bicker like an old married couple."'

"How dare you say that! I would never marry him! Gross!" You made vomiting motions and fake retched.

Eren smirked. "Well, if things don't work out between you and Mikasa, I'm always around." He tittered.

"Eren, I'm literally gay." You deadpanned.

Armin let out a hearty laugh. "She's got you there." They grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

Before Eren could respond, the kitchen door opened to reveal Jean out of breath in the doorway. "Good evening fellow friends!"

"What's your deal?" Eren raised an eyebrow, referring to Jean's drenched form.

"It started raining. Pretty harshly." Jean wrung out his coat over the stairs.

"Sucks to suck!" Eren's hand slammed on the counter while the other was pointed at Jean.

"Any news on Mikasa?" You asked gingerly.

"Not anything new. As far as I'm concerned, I'm still picking her up at the airport tomorrow," Jean reassured. 

"Should we throw her a welcoming party or something?" Eren suggested. Everyone looked at him like he was a moron. His eyes narrowed. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Are you crazy? She left because of what happened at a party! Why would she want one now? Do you want to drive her away again? Mikasa has never been the party type, anyways." You exclaimed while crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Eren put his hands up in defense. "Sheesh, it was just an idea."

"Yeah, a real dumbass idea." Jean seethed.

To prevent a fight, you interjected, "We have this whole house to clean. If you want a good welcoming gift, you'll help me clean it." You gestured to the several messes in your line of sight.

Eren shifted his glare to you. "Where do I start, then?" He gritted his teeth.

"You can start with your filthy room, and then the basement since you're down there the most." You smiled sweetly and quickly spoke up again before he could protest. "Jean, you can do your room and the rooms on this floor, not mine though. Armin, you already keep the waterfront looking great, but if you could do a sweep-through of the deck that'd be awesome. Also, can you do the office upstairs? I can do everything else."

Everyone nodded and started to clean their designated areas. You went upstairs to finish Mikasa's room and then start on the others. You had already finished with your room. You stopped in front of her door and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Several hours later, the four of you were slouched on the couch, mindlessly staring at a random movie on tv. Jean had tried his best to get comfortable but just ended up upside down. Eren was lying down with his head in your lap and his legs sprawled over Jean, much to his dismay. Armin had a blanket around himself and was leaning on you whilst trying his best to stay awake.

It was close to midnight and you all had a big day ahead of you. "I'm exhausted." Eren groaned from your lap. 

"I second that." Jean lazily raised his hand in the air.

"Me too. I'm headed up to bed. Goodnight everyone." Armin yawned and made his way up the stairs, occasionally tripping on their blanket.

"So am I. Eren get your scrawny legs off me!" Jean hurriedly tried to shimmy off the couch.

"Shut up, horse face! Don't tell me what to do." Eren grumbled while lifting his head off of you. You stood up after him. He sure was a pain when he was tired.

"Goodnight to you losers. Sleep well." He said groggily while going to the basement instead of his actual room. You stretched and headed to your room.

"Aren't you going to get up, Jean?" You rubbed your eyes sleepily.

"Yeah, you go on to bed." He waved you off while struggling to get off the floor. You chuckled softly.

After you got changed into your pajamas, you collapsed on your bed with a heavy sigh, taking a look through your old texts with Mikasa one last time.

posted: 8/25/21

neptunetheplanet7© 2021

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.