#but i had a serious urge to write these two and i need to post it

[disinherited-dornishman]

In honour of @helaenasbestfriend 's insane tags on my post, which inspired this two part trash from my end.

Part 2

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fantasies of regicide. TW: offscreen marital SA in part 2, because that's what doing one's duty as Alicent Hightower pertains.

Part 1/2

"I'm going to bed, Aemma," said the king.

The name rang through the courtyard like a tolling bell. Eyes turn, the beginnings of whispers follow, but some part of Criston cannot believe it truly happened.

He turns his eyes to his Queen.

When he sees what had been concern for her husband frozen still upon her beautiful visage, like a doe's last moments as it was struck in the heart by a hunter's arrow, he knows. And he cannot stop the quickening of his heartbeat, the clench of his jaw, that burning in his mind - not wild and rapid with panic and fear as the fire that had killed the Knight of Kisses. No, this burn was cold, pure rage.

"Shall I see after Queen Alicent, Your Grace?" Ser Harrold asks, pointedly.

The King stops in his tired shuffling, as though he finally noticed his mistake. Criston prays for a mere apology. Even that admission of wrong is better than pretending he had said nothing at all, and perhaps that would be enough to banish these thoughts of bloody dishonour from Criston's mind.

"No, Ser Harrold..." He shuffles along.

Criston watches his Queen's face fall.

"You have the night's watch, Ser Criston," Ser Harrold says. A look of warning as he walks away.

Criston is glaring. He knows it, but he cannot bring himself to care - cannot stop his grip tightening about his sword's leather hilt. The faint creak is defeaning in his ears.

Aemma. After all these years, all the humiliations, the unerring performance of his Queen in her... duties. The suffering.

Aemma.

One stroke, the voice whispers, swift and clean. That is all that's needed. More than he deserves. A fall down the stairs with no one around to hear and help him. They might whisper afterwards, but so be it. Let them. At least she would not need suffer-

"Come, Ser Criston." Her voice brings him back to reality. The horror is only brief.

They leave the courtyard together, sent off by whispers and looks she's grown accustomed to suffering. She holds her head high but she cannot fool Criston, for he had seen the distance in her eyes.

"Something disturbs your peace of mind, Ser," she says later the Red Keep's sept. Her voice is distant, but her attention is upon him, even as she kneels before the Mother's altar.

"It is nothing, my queen."

"Then nothingness has you terribly occupied." She looks at him over her shoulder. "Your silence concerns me, I must confess."

"I do not wish to not disturb the hallowed peace, my queen, that is all."

She gives him a look that almost feels like a plea. She dislikes his avoidance. He averts his eyes to the ground.

"That was unworthy of his grace," he says, impotently.

"He is unwell, his mind muddled," she says, more graceful in the face of injustice than Criston. "Do not hold it against him."

An act.

He hates it. He hates that he cannot punish the king (what a thought for a Kingsguard to harbour.) He hates what she must endure, and that he must endure watching her endure it, as useful in his vigilance as a gargoyle on Dragonstone.

"May I be honest?"

"Always, Good Ser."

"My thoughts disturb me. They too are... unwell."

There is a silence. His confession makes the hairs on his body stand. His heart races at the thought that he might have overstepped. It is one thing to say too much of the Queen's enemies, but her husband the King?

"Will you pray with me then?" she says, unreadable. "That your anger might be abolished?"

Her generosity, her trust, stuns him. Suddenly he cannot help but admire how beautiful she is in her furtive sorrow, and wish that he could see her smile. Banish all her ills and worries away. How long has he watched her suffer them?

"You honour me, your grace..."

She shuffles aside and pats the pillowed floor with a warm smile.

He swallows his heart back down his throat, removes the scabbard from his waist, kneels at her side, and clasps his hands together.

They pray in the comforting silence and stillness of the sept, under the warmth of the sunlight that is coloured rainbow by stained glass. Beside him, her warmth is radiant, crossing the distance between their flesh. It cools the fire in his mind until he is afloat.

He finds himself wishing he could shuffle closer and truly feel her flesh against his, just an arm, that it might comfort her...

But it is unseemly. Inappropriate. Unworthy.

So instead, he prays harder. Not for his own peace of mind, but for the gods to free his queen of her burden as swiftly as possible.

[discordantwritings]

Creative Cures (Mihawk x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, sex pollen trope (but it’s a devil fruit power), the inherent dubcon of sex pollen but the con is as con as it can get under the circumstances, intercrural sex, PiV sex, creampie, mild cumplay, semi public sex

WC: 3.3k

Summary: As a relatively high ranking Marine doctor you were in charge of Dracule Mihawk’s post mission check ups. Normally you don’t have to do anything- until he shows up sick.

The only solution both you and him can agree on is a little… unconventional

Notes: I (lovingly) blame @fanaticsnail for this. All of her lovely sex pollen fics pushed me over the edge to write this one so go check hers out. Go.

Tagging: @keiva1000

Most Marines didn’t like it when Mihawk had to come check in and give his after mission report in person. But you barely considered yourself a Marine anyways, always thinking of yourself as a doctor first before anything. A doctor who just so happened to be in charge of doing all of Mihawk’s post mission check ups.

Of course it took him a while to actually agree to do any sort of post mission work, but despite his generally sour attitude inside the Marines base he was never mean to you. Dismissive? Sure. Non-compliant with any medical advice you’d give? Yes. But that’s what you dealt with on a day to day basis. He was one of the few people you could have intelligent conversation with- he would listen to you and you would cherish the snippets of traveling stories you would get out of him.

Your check ups were never more than a handful of minutes, you had never seen him get more than a scratch, but he always let you run down your required checklist. Despite this you always cleared out half your day, just in case. So today, a day he was set to check in at your base, you sat patiently in your office until he was done talking with your superiors.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Until, finally, there was a frantic knock on your door before a frazzled looking cadet burst in. You immediately stand up and get serious- mass injuries were unfortunately commonplace for you to deal with and he had the scared look of someone who just saw a ship roll in half destroyed.

“Doctor-“

“How bad.”

“It’s Mihawk.”

That caught you entirely off guard and your stomach drops. “How bad?”

“We don’t know. He was giving his report and then he looked flushed and that’s when he ran out. Apparently he’s locked himself in some spare office and won’t come out.” He explains and you slowly get more and more concerned.

You quickly grab your bag and sling in over your shoulder, practically pushing the cadet out the door with you as you order him to show you where Mihawk is. It’s a quick jog down hallways and stairs but eventually you get to a door with two cadets on either side. One of your captains is leaning on the wall across from the door looking exasperated.

“The only thing he’s telling us is to leave him alone.” The captain explains, gesturing to the door.

You sigh and walk up to the door, rapping on it with your knuckles. “Mihawk, you’ve got everyone worried out here.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Mihawk’s voice, muffled from behind the steel door. “Doctor?”

“Everyone said you looked sick.” You explain.

There’s a long pause and you’re about to speak again before you hear his voice. “You all need to get out of here.”

You see the captain throw up his hands in your peripheral and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Turning your attention back to your fellow Marines you gesture down the hallway.

“Give me a few minutes alone with him.” You don’t need to tell them twice, and they eagerly take the relief.

You wait a few beats for them to clear out and then turn your attention back to the door. “Alright, it’s just us.”

“I thought I made it clear that all of you needed to leave me alone.” You can tell he’s close to the door, which you take as somewhat of a good sign.

“Look, if it’s something contagious I just need to know. If it’s something embarrassing I’m a doctor and I take confidentiality incredibly seriously.” There’s silence and you lean on the door. “Just let me help you.”

You hear him moving behind the door and then the heavy sound of the lock turning. You give him a few seconds before you enter, closing the door after yourself immediately.

All the lights are off, only the small amount of light through the high circular windows illuminating the space. It takes you a second to locate Mihawk but eventually you find him, shoulders hunched as he leans on an abandoned desk. It’s jarring to see his normally perfect posture gone and even in the low light you can see the intense flush over his face and exposed chest. You don’t need a thermometer to see that his temperature is dangerously high.

“What happened?” You don’t approach him, hoping the space gives him some comfort.

“It was-“ He breaks off as he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Some Devil Fruit user. Don’t know what the power was but I inhaled some smoke and then-“

He trails off and you know you’re probably in a bit over your head. Devil Fruit powers could be quite literally anything. You shove all that down though and hope your nervousness doesn’t show. “What are your symptoms?”

Mihawk shakes his head. “This was a mistake I shouldn’t have let you in you need to-“

“Mihawk I need you to tell me.” You’re unsure where this confidence is coming from, there’s not a world in which you would ever be in a position to tell a warlord what to do. But to your surprise, it works.

“I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.” He practically growls.

“You have my word.”

“Fine.” You see him shift and it looks like he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. “I have a fever, I am experiencing some mental fog, and my senses seem to be heightened.”

It’s your years as a doctor that let you immediately know he’s holding something back. “And?”

His gaze darts up and he glares at you making your blood run ice cold. If looks could kill you would be a pile of viscera on the floor. Despite this, he does give you and answer.

“I am in an… unnatural state of arousal.”

Oh.

That would certainly explain a few things.

You let your doctor brain take over as you set your bag on the ground, opening it and looking through what you have. Medication wouldn’t help since the cause was a Devil Fruit power but…

“Okay. I have a few ideas.” You reach into your bag and pull out an ice pack, throwing it over to Mihawk who easily catches it and presses it to his forehead. “The first is what you are doing, which is isolate until the effect stops. I’m not sure this is the best idea since you seem to be incredibly uncomfortable.”

“What else.”

“I could sedate you and hopefully have it flushed out of your system by the time you wake up.” You offer, showing him the vial of clear liquid.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to be further incapacitated around you Marines.” He spits out the last word and you would be offended if you actually considered yourself a Marine.

“Alright. Those are my… sensible ideas.”

“Which implies there are insensible ones. Spit it out.”

You can’t blame him for being short but it didn’t make your next concepts any easier to say. “I could find you someone to… ride it out with.”

That idea hangs in the air and you watch Mihawk screw his eyes shut, clearly struggling. “I don’t- it’s insufferable enough to be vulnerable on a Marine base but you want to bring in some stranger-“

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

A thought pops into your head as you scramble for more ideas as Mihawk’s composure slowly keeps slipping. It’s a stupid thought, one a doctor like you shouldn’t have even had. But in the moment, pressed for ideas, it tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think properly about it.

“I would help you.”

You realize what you’ve said a moment too late and wish that somehow the floor would swallow you whole. It’s not like you don’t want to- it’s clear that your stupid monkey brain has always held on an attraction to the incredibly handsome warlord- but offering yourself up like this?

Beyond wildly inappropriate.

“Don’t say things like that.” Mihawk says as he backs up a few steps and shame hits you like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry- it was- you shouldn’t be with anyone when you’re compromised like this I’ll just-“ You fumble over your words and quickly turn to unlock the door and get out of there.

Before your hand can even reach the handle an arm comes out from behind you and slams on the door. Suddenly you feel the intense heat of Mihawk’s body behind you, heavy breath fanning over the back of your neck. He doesn’t press into your body but instead hovers and your mind can’t quite keep up with the sudden change in events.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it.” His voice is low and dripping with lust.

Your gaze is locked forward as you try to control your breathing. “I meant it.”

“Last chance.”

The professional part of your brain gets smashed to smithereens as he presses his body against yours. “If you’re sure you want this then-“

The air is knocked out of your lungs as he steps forward, pushing you harshly into the door. One hand knots in your hair while the other snakes around your waist and pulls you in impossibly closer. The grip on your hair forces your head to the side, giving Mihawk the space to attack your neck, teeth digging into your skin immediately. As he does so he grinds his hips up and you can feel just how painfully hard he is against your ass.

The hand on your waist pulls at your uniform pants and you quickly get the idea, using your free hands to shove them down. You’re only able to get them just over your ass with how your legs are pressed apart by Mihawk’s but that seems to be enough for him. His hands leave you for a second and you hear the clatter of his belt before both hands tightly grip your hips.

You feel his cock slide between your folds, not entering you but instead sliding between your lips. His shaft is almost scorching hot as it slides against your clit, slick dripping from you and easing his shallow and fast thrusts.

“I just- fuck I just have to take the edge of your so-“ The grip on your hips is bruising as he holds you still to use you.

“It’s alright just-“ You can practically feel every vein against your sensitive clit and you bring one of your hands up and back to dig into his hair.

The scratch of your nails in his scalp is all Mihawk needs to tip over the edge, grunting as he spills onto the door and your thighs. You feel his heavy breath on your neck as he collects himself but the hardness against you doesn’t fade. You hear frustration in a low growl against your back but despite this he places kisses over the deep bite marks he created on your neck.

Slowly Mihawk pries his body away from yours and you take the opportunity to quickly toe off your shoes and slip your pants all the way off. When you turn around you see Mihawk watching you from a large chair, slowly pumping his cock, soaking from you slick.

“Get the rest of that god awful uniform off doctor.” You quickly discard your jacket and pull your shirt over your head, earning an appreciative hum from Mihawk. “What a pity you have to hide all that.”

You flush under his compliment and piercing gold gaze. With his free hand he beckons you over and you obey without hesitation. The second you’re close enough he pulls you into his lap, your thighs pushed apart by his spread ones. Your hands grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself as his hands find your hips once more.

“Normally I would work you open darling but-“ He nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before one incredibly strong hand pushes you down while the other lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him as his tip presses into you, stretching you out. You curse as he pushes into you a bit faster than you can adjust, but probably significantly slower than he wants to fuck into you. The sting feels good mixed with the way Mihawk curses and praises you under his breath, words barely understandable as his fingers bruise your waist.

“Just like that- so fucking tight-“ He mouths at your collarbone as you sink down and your head falls back as he splits you open.

Soon enough your hips meet his and you moan and dig your nails into Mihawk’s shoulders. He can’t help but shallowly thrust up into you, hot breath fanning over your skin as his instincts seem to overwhelm him. Once you feel ready you work to move your hips in time with his, pulling yourself up and down further on his length.

“That’s it- you’ve been waiting for an excuse to fuck yourself on my cock huh? Proper little doctor- I’ve seen how you- fuck- how you look at me.” You flush with embarrassment and look down to see his golden eyes blown out by darkness.

Maybe you should have some shame, knowing you were seen through so easily, but when he looks up at you like that you can’t think of anything else. You quickly press your lips to his and he seems caught off guard for a second- only to quickly overtake the kiss. One strong hand grips the back of your neck and holds you in place as his tongue slips between your lips. You stay like this until your lungs scream at you and you push yourself back and gasp for air.

You’re about to lean in for another kiss when you notice Mihawk’s gaze quickly dart to the door. You’re confused for a second but soon a loud knocking bounces off the steel door.

“Doctor- status report?” One of the cadets yells through the door and you swear under your breath.

You stop your movements, hoping to catch your breath and sound somewhat put together but Mihawk has other ideas. The second you falter he grabs your hips and starts moving you up and down effortlessly and when you glare at him he only grins up at you.

Seems he still has the mental capacity to be an ass.

“We are-“ You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop a moan after a skillfully directed thrust. “We are quarantining until some of my tests are- are done processing.”

There’s a pause before the cadet responds. “Okay… are you alright? You’re not sick are you?”

When one of Mihawk’s hands leave your hips you know something is up and you’re able to bite down on your hand in time to stifle the moan that leaves your body when his skilled fingers find your clit. You’re so close to an orgasm but you fight it back just long enough to get this stupid cadet out of here.

“Quarantine this hallway until my further say- that’s an order!” You yell out and you hope and pray the cadet doesn’t hear the pleasure in your voice.

“Y-Yes!” The voice shouts back and you hope he’s running down the hall because you can’t take this anymore.

“What would your fellow Marines think?” Mihawk’s voice, cruel and playful, rings in your ears. “They’re precious doctor getting fucked stupid by a pirate- fuck you like that don’t you?”

You can only nod, overwhelmed by hick cock and fingers skillfully taking you apart.

“You’re squeezing me so tight- just- need you to cum all over my cock- you can do that can’t you? Cum for me-“ There’s a hint of desperation in his voice and his command breaks any last tethers you were using to hold off your orgasm snap.

Mihawk swears loudly as your walls convulse around him and it’s only seconds later he’s holding your hips down hard against his and spilling inside you. You lay your forehead on Mihawk’s shoulder as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Even after you catch your breath he’s still hard inside you and you know you’re not done yet.

“I just want to see- hold on.” Is the only warning you get before Mihawk is standing up.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips but his strong hands on your ass are more than enough to keep you up. He moves a few feet to the desk, setting you down on it and tapping your thigh once you’re settled. You get the idea and unlatch your legs, letting him slip out and away from you.

“Let me see.” Mihawk says as he pushes your knees apart, eyes transfixed between them. “Fuck.”

He watches as his cum leaks out of you, his fingers quickly scooping it up and shoving it back inside of you. In any other headspace you might think that was disgusting but the way he watches you and is claiming you makes it incredibly arousing. Once he’s satisfied he brings his fingers up to your mouth and you automatically take them between your lips, tasting the mix of your fluids.

“I’m- fuck- you’re perfect.” He seems reluctant to take his fingers from your mouth but the second both his hands are free he’s easily flipping you around and pushing your chest into the desk.

There’s no warning before he’s plunging into you again, your hips roughly meeting the edge of the wooden desk. You don’t really feel the pain amongst the pleasure, oversensitive from your previous orgasm. You feel open mouth kisses pepper your spine as he thrusts into you from behind. While one of his hands stays on your hips- your skin practically indented in the shape of his fingers there now- one reaches down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze before he pushes your leg upwards. The new angle is heavenly as you just let yourself be used- sliding forwards and backwards on the desk with each powerful thrust.

“Need you to- fuck darling I just need you to cum on me again- please I need to feel it-“ Mihawk sounds so desperate, a whine to his voice that he no longer can hide. “Just a little bit more for me-“

Your body seems to crave following his commands and another orgasm is ripped from your sensitive body. Only a few moments later you feel him cum inside you again, and you’re confident at this point he’s dripping out of you onto the floor.

“So good for me- taking all my cum-“ He’s breathless as he pulls out of you again and you don’t need to turn around to know he’s staring at your fucked out hole.

When he actually give you space for a minute you turn your head, still using the table to support your weight. “You feel better?”

“Hm…” His hand skates up your back, soothing you. “Feeling just sated enough to get you back to the room I’m staying in.”

The prospect of going more rounds was overwhelming but you can’t deny that you wanted it more than anything. One problem.

“If anyone sees me I think they’ll figure out some of what happened.” From your messed up hair, the bruises forming on your neck, and the fact that there’s no way you’ll be able to walk normally- yeah it’ll be obvious you were just fucked within an inch of your life.

“Oh doctor.” He pulls you up off the desk and places a surprisingly tender kiss on your forehead. “If anyone else sees you like this I’ll kill them.”

[lalal-99]

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Porn with Plot | Explicit Sexual Content | Making Out | Hook-up in Bathroom | Bathroom Sex | Fingering (reader rec.) | Oral (reader rec.) | Edging | Overstimulation | Teasing | Some Dirty Talk | Slight Praise Kink | Dom/Sub Undertones (Dom!Changbin) | Mirror Sex

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

[cherry-jamm]

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

[jjongslutz]

after reading the soft sex w jay, i had this thought if jay could ever be rough cuz it seems like he would be the type of guy who is always gentle w his gf, thoughts?)

a/n - i will be writing longer drabbles for each of these scenarios separately, i just wanted to summarize in the meantime so this one post doesn't get too long 🫡

i'll be so honest i only see very few scenarios where jay would be more rough with his gf - hookups could be different but we'll stick with an established relationship for this post!!

jealousy

as much as he wants to say he hides it well, jay's jealousy has him acting out of control... he'd try to keep his cool, but his emotions are drawn all over his face. in his tightened jaw, his balled fists and dark eyes, anyone can tell what's going on inside his head.

doesn't even matter though because he'd be pulling you away from whoever's making him feel this way to a secluded area to remind you whose you are.

it'd start off with a headed make out session down the hall from whichever event the two of you were at - he's usually not the type to be so open to PDA, but this is something else. he needs everyone to know that you're with him and some rando isn't gonna just take you away so easily.

it'd then follow up with the two of you leaving fashionably early and - one tension filled car ride later - you're against the doorframe, barely inside your shared apartment before he's ripping off your clothes from your delicate frame.

whether it's considered your "punishment" or him releasing his anger out on you is unclear... either way you're thrilled with the way he's practically throwing you onto the bed and going at you as he pleases - forcing your head down, your hips up and pushing himself into you without any warning. his thrusts would be more than you can take, but you take it cause he tells you to

"c'mon princess, you have nothing to say anymore? you had a lot to say earlier to my coworker, what happened? speechless?"

(ofc he still manages to throw in endearing nicknames and pet names because there's no taking the sweet bf out of him)

because you asked

the alternative scenario that i can see happening is you asking him to try something new together!! he's hesitant at first since he's new to this and didn't even think you would be into anything more aggressive than what you've been doing together, but ultimately he agrees to try it out since you asked

there'd be a long and serious sit down before it happens, though. you'd discuss safe words and the details before setting the date and preparing yourselves.

and when the day comes, he doesn't hesitate. he bosses you around in the bedroom, urging you to strip for him before kneeling in front of the bed and sucking him off dry.

"look at you, taking my cock so well down your throat like the slut you are..."

i feel like edging and overstim would soooo be into play in this scenario too!! after sucking him off, he'd ask you to lay against his chest, perfectly placed for him to play with your pussy from behind, fingering you rapidly til you're squirming in his hold, begging to cum and yet he refuses, pulling his hand away from you before you have the chance to come undone

cue some intense fucking too...

trust i'll be writing a full fic for this cause i feel like we all deserve it 🙏

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Light in My Darkness

damon salvatore x gn!reader | requested

summary: after your boyfriend's death, you fell back into old habits. now that he's back, you're having trouble kicking them again.

tags: angst, hurt / comfort, depression, s3lf h4rm, kisses

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i typically don't write for damon, however i feel comfortable writing this subject matter and i'm getting better with understanding his character. honestly, too, i rewatched s7 and i'm starting to love him even more. (i just love the traumatized characters.)

also, i'm not good at titles. my first title had the word 'put' in it, but i stared at it so long, it didn't look like a word anymore and i had to change it. i think i like this one better. i stg, titles are half the reason i take so long to post. whew, anyway... enjoy ❤️

“Stefan needs help at Whitmore,” Damon says hurriedly. He puts his phone in his back pocket and sighs. “Another Enzo situation.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, you stay here. I don’t want him anywhere near you, given he’s in one of his moods and would hurt you for no reason.” He gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He speeds out the door a moment later, leaving you alone in the large, empty house. You sigh. Your life is so full of supernatural drama, it’s hard to keep up. Honestly, you’re not even sure what the situation is with Enzo, or why he and Stefan hate each other so much, or how Damon knows what to do to de-escalate their arguments. Of course, Caroline debriefed you on it sometime ago, but with all the craziness happening lately, it pretty much went over your head. 

It’s been hard these last few months. Only recently had Damon returned to you from four months after being considered dead, alongside Bonnie, as the other side collapsed with him in it. Those months had been the hardest of your life, and you doubted your ability to make it through them. Losing your best friend and your boyfriend was something you never thought you’d have to endure, yet it happened. Losing them almost killed you, too. 

For three years, you were clean. You hadn’t touched a single blade since you and Damon got serious. He gave you a reason to stop without even knowing it, and with a lot of patience with yourself, you managed to kick the addiction. After he died, though, when you couldn’t bear to live without him, you picked it back up. Part of you is pissed for falling back into your old ways, but the other part has convinced yourself it’s what you need to do to survive. 

When he came back unexpectedly, you were filled with just as much panic as you were joy. You had him back, but had relapsed majorly, and now have to recount your old steps into being sober again. It hasn’t been easy. 

It’s been a couple days since your last time, and while your skin’s no longer bright and swollen, it seems to beg for your attention. You have to plan it carefully, making sure Damon will be gone long enough that he won’t sense the fresh blood. When he grabs your wrists to kiss your face, you don’t want to flinch in slight pain, or let him pick up a chance in your heartbeat. 

It’s such a complicated addiction to have when dating a vampire, yet fighting the urges are so hard, sometimes you can’t help but give into them. 

The blades in the bathroom are ready for you when you enter. A brand new pack sits in the drawer. The boys won’t miss one or two. The one time Stefan did notice, you blabbered a quick lie about needing one to scrape a bit of food dried to the stovetop. He was in such a rush that day, he didn’t catch any lie, and you were able to smile and flee the scene a moment later. Since then, you make sure to hold onto the one you have until there’s enough to not see one missing. 

With everyone seemingly involved in the Enzo situation, you don’t bother to shut the door completely before dragging the blade across your skin. The boarding house is empty, and this bathroom in particular is tucked away nicely behind the stairs. You make a few scattered cuts and watch the blood seep from them. It always seems to calm you in the most grotesque way, and, quite ironically, gives you the perfect dopamine rush that raises your spirits despite the pain. It’s a terrible addiction but with a high reward… until you have to hide the evidence. 

That little reminder makes you sigh. Too many scars are hard to hide, and with Damon back, you have to be careful. It would break him to see you this way; that thought alone makes you put down the blade. For a moment longer, you stare at the tricking blood, committing the sight to memory to maybe fend off the next urge. To imagine the blood on your skin may convince yourself it’s there, and maybe you won’t cut the next time you’re so desperate. Maybe. 

You reach for a piece of toilet paper to dab the wounds. The bleeding needs to stop before you crave another scare. It’s so tempting, but-

“Hey,” Damon appears suddenly, peeking through the door. His eyes are narrowed, as if sensing something’s wrong. “What are you doing?”

You turn to face him and hold your hands around your back quickly. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” He opens the door a little wider, seeing the reflection of your hidden hands in the mirror. “Let me see your arms.”

“I’m okay.” Nervously, you pull down your sleeves to hide your wounds as much as possible. Your eyes meet the floor, unable to lie if you look into his blues.

“No, you’re not.” He argues, anxious to see your face; to not let you shy away and avoid his gaze. His approach makes your heart race, confirming his worst fears. “Let me see.”

“I thought you were leaving. I thought Stefan needed you.”

“He does, but he can wait.”

“But-”

“You’re my first priority. I can tell something’s up. Please,” he brushes a hair away from your face, “let me in.”

“Damon, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurting, and I can smell the blood, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out right now.”

You huff at the realization that he could smell it. You should’ve waited for him to be gone longer before breaking your skin. “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me.” Tears well in your eyes, but you let them fall, unwilling to take your hands off your sleeves. 

“Y/N, I promise. I could never be mad. Just let me see it.”

Slowly, you release your sleeves, but leave the task of rolling them up to him. You can’t bear to do it yourself. Damon takes one hand gently and pulls the sleeve back. Upon seeing the numerous cuts, he pulls the other back with a little more vigor, but is still careful not to hurt you. He stares, unable to speak or move, as his heart breaks with every passing second. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His eyes meet yours and you finally break down into tears. 

Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms protectively around your body. You feel safe in his arms, you always do. Damon has a way about him that always makes you feel safe, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He’s loyal and understanding, and that is part of the reason you feel so horrible for not telling him this. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, now sobbing into his chest. 

Your heart beats and reminds him that you are alive. The cuts made into your skin weren’t deep enough to take you. The pain you have been feeling hasn’t swallowed you whole. He concentrates on your breathing, and your crying, and uses it to anchor himself before asking the thousands of questions flooding his mind. 

He pulls away, finally, and wipes your tears with his thumbs. His hands grip your shoulders with a gentle desperation, as if he’s afraid you could dissipate at any moment. 

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

Your heart feels heavy as you reply, “honestly, no.”

“Why not tell me, Y/N? You know I love you. If you’re hurting, I want to be there for you.”

“I know… I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you? Some part of me was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want you to see me differently because of it. I don’t know.” 

“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me love you less. Nothing that would ever make me feel a different way, or see you in another light.”

“I know. I know my feelings are totally irrational, I just… they’re fears.”

“I understand.” He kisses your forehead, then releases your shoulders to hold your hands and kiss them, too. “Hey, can you promise me something?”

“I can try.”

“Come to me the next time you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, okay? Let me help you through it.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter what’s going on, or who’s texting, I will drop anything and put you first. But you gotta let me in when you need it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now,” he pauses, biting into his arm and holding it out for you to drink. His other hand meets the back of your head, stabilizing your neck to keep you comfortable. 

To his dismay, you refuse. You try to pull away, but his other hand prevents that, so you look down instead. “I can’t.”

“Y/N…”

“The scars are a reminder that I bleed. As soon as they fade away, the urge returns, but if they’re there for a little while, the urge is less strong. They’re kind of a comfort, I think. A reminder.”

“So you don’t want me to heal them?”

“I’d rather not. They don’t bother me too much. Do they bother you?”

You can see the hesitation in his eyes. He fights with himself, knowing the sight is a reminder of your pain, but understands their existence helps you heal. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No, baby, I only care that you’re safe.” He kisses them one more time. “Have you eaten much today?”

“Not really.”

“Well… do you mind if I make you something, even if it’s just something small, and then we can sit together on the couch? We’ll take today slow.”

“Okay. Wait, but what about Stefan?”

“Caroline can handle it. Then he’ll be in her debt and she’ll be happy about it,” he jokes.

You smile, appreciating his humor despite the somber mood hanging above both your heads. He’s the light in dark times, the much needed laugh that breaks the awkward silence. It’s part of the reason you fell for him so quickly. 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

He pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then reaches for your hand. “Of course.”

[papercorgiworld]

You are the prize

Sebastian Sallow

Imelda uses you to convince Sebastian to put in some extra effort for the upcoming quidditch games, but there may be a little misunderstanding about what exactly Imelda promised.

Warning: a little bit of smut, but nothing too bad

I found this. I wrote it months ago, but never posted it. Kinda wanted to post it a few weeks ago, but never did, but since this nice anon asked for more Hogwarts Legacy fics I thought that throwing this online was the least I could do. I find that it's written differently from how I write today, but that can just be my imagination. Also I have no clue how the HL fandom is doing, but Happy readings!

Anne was back. Ominis and Sebastian were as close as ever. All was well. Except for Imelda! Slytherin had had a bad quidditch year. If Slytherin wanted to have a chance of winning the house cup they needed to win the last three games or it would be the greatest Slytherin loss in Hogwarts history.

Sebastian had rejoined the team after Anne came back to Hogwarts, but he still wasn’t on top of his game. Imelda was convinced that if Sebastian focussed more, he could be the game changer. Which is why she was about to make him a deal that he could not refuse. Sebastian and Ominis were on their way to potions when Imelda grabbed Sebastian’s cloak bringing both boys to a stop.

“We have to win the last three games.” Imelda started and Sebastian rolled his eyes. Every training she had made him question why he started playing again. Imelda ignored the eye roll and continued. “Which means that you can’t be messing around anymore during training. And, more importantly, that ‘you’ need to bring in the victories.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “I believe you to be the only one that can somewhat keep up with me...” Sebastian was somewhat charmed by the compliment. “If only you put in some effort.” Sebastian rolled his eyes once more. Unbelievable, this woman.

“I’ve been doing my best, Imelda. This just isn’t our year. Two good players can’t win a game.” Sebastian argued annoyed. Imelda huffed. “I’m a ‘great’ player, thank you very much. And! I believe that two players can win a game if motivated.” Sebastian sighed and was about to simply turn on his heels. “I’m going to make you an offer.” Sebastian’s curiosity was stronger than his urge to leave. “I know you have a crush on y/n.” Sebastian’s eyes shot up to Imelda. How did she find out? “How about I arrange something?” Imelda continued and raised an eyebrow.

“So… if we win the next game you’ll arrange something?” Sebastian asked curiously. “If we win the next ‘three’ games, I’ll arrange something.” Imelda corrected. “Three?” Sebastian laughed, but Imelda kept her serious face up. “We win three games and you get something good.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “Good as in *makes kissy face*?” Now Imelda rolled her eyes. “Yes. A little make out session for you… but only if we win all three games.”

Sebastian was definitely interested. “And you can arrange that?” Sebastian questioned. “Yes.” Imelda said and she offered her hand. Sebastian thought about it for a moment, but he couldn’t resist and shook Imelda’s hand. Imelda nodded and left. “Did Imelda just sell off her own friend to win a quidditch game?” Ominis spoke up after witnessing everything in silence. “Three games.” Sebastian corrected with a playful smile on his face.

Imelda was already working on part two of her plan: convincing you. Normally she would believe it impossible to arrange someone for Sebastian, but she knew that you had a crush on him. So she wasn’t really using you, she was helping you. Merlin would be so proud of my scheme, she thought to herself as she walked up to you. “Ready for a game of chess?” Imelda asked you.

Imelda had lost two times in a row. To your surprise she wanted to play a third game. “Third time’s a charm right.” Imelda laughed. You simply smiled, she was acting a bit off today. “How about I throw in my famed potions flash cards.” Your eyes widened. Those could really save your grade. Too good to be true. “What’s the catch?” You asked a bit worried. “If you lose, you might need to kiss a guy.” “What?!” You yelped. You eyed her for an explanation. “In three weeks I might need you to kiss a guy. That is if you lose. If you win you get my potions flash cards.” You pursed your lips as you thought about it. You really needed those cards. “Who’s the guy?” You asked as you considered your options. “Why? Is there someone you would like to kiss?” Imelda asked with a raised eyebrow. “No. Just curious.” You tried to play it cool.

As planned Imelda won and the three weeks passed quickly.

Before the final game started Imelda came up to you in full quidditch gear. “About that game of chess we played three weeks ago…If Slytherin wins, go straight to the Slytherin common room.” Imelda gave you a devilish smile and walked away. You were left somewhat stressed out. Imelda walked towards the Slytherin team and went to stand next to Sebastian. “We win and you get your kiss from y/n.” Imelda said while focussed on the quidditch pitch in front of her. “Making-out session, you mean.” Sebastian corrected. Imelda frowned, did she really promise him that? Well, too late to change terms now. “Yeah, whatever.” She nonchalantly answered.

*** After the game ***

Imelda had pointed Sebastian towards their common room and as excited as Sebastian was to claim his well earned prize, when he stood in front of the door his courage and confidence was nowhere to be found.

His heartbeat was racing as he went down the stairs. You stood there nervously fumbling with the fabric of your tie. You looked up at Sebastian and your face heated up. “W-why are you here?” You stuttered. “I’m here to collect my prize.” Sebastian said suggestively with a smug smile on his face. With fake confidence he walked over to you. “Prize?” You questioned, finally putting together the pieces of Imelda’s scheme.

You snapped out of your thoughts and noticed that Sebastian stood only centimeters/inches away from you. With a gentle finger he lifted your chin up and leaned in. You kissed back softly. You parted after a moment, too quickly for Sebastian’s liking. “So, that’s that.” You said and smiled awkwardly as you took a step back. “Auch.” Sebastian said quietly. “What?” You immediately asked. “Am I such a bad kisser?” You shook your head. “No, not at all.” Sebastian smiled and again closed the space between you two.

“Good, because I was promised a make out session.” He said right before leaning in to kiss you once more. This time you parted your lips slightly and Sebastian was eager to accept the invitation. One hand slipped to your lower back pressing your body against his, while his other hand held your head gently.

As Sebastian parted, he saw hesitation and doubt in your eyes. “I don’t know what Imelda told you, but if you don’t want to do this then you don’t have to.” He stayed close to you but his eyes were sincerely looking for your approval. “Imelda said just a kiss.” You spoke softly. Sebastian’s heart dropped and his eyes showed clear disappointment. “Then let’s leave it at that.” He said as he took a step back and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… uh, kiss and stuff.” You confessed. “I’m - I’m just a bit insecure, I guess.” Sebastian laughed, not the reaction you were hoping for. He cupped your cheek. “There is no reason for you to be insecure. You are a sweet and intelligent witch, and you’re so beautiful.” While he said that last bit he shamelessly traced your figure. “So, do you want to continue?” He asked with a smile tugging his lips. You pulled him closer using his quidditch cloak and kissed him. Your fingers messing up his already messy hair even more.

When you parted for air, Sebastian saw an opportunity to lift you up and place you on a nearby table. He found his way between your legs and pushed himself as close to you as possible. Passionate kisses turned into sloppy ones as you both became more desperate for each other. His lips left yours only to leave more sloppy kisses on your jaw and down to your neck. As he pushed himself even closer you could feel just how hard he was through his pants. You enjoyed the feeling and you spread your legs slightly wider. Your fingers clinging to the fabric of his sweater, while your other hand continues to further mess up his hair. A soft moan escapes your lips, making him kiss you more aggressively than before and presses his forehead against yours. “Y/n, you’re quite the prize.” He says in a husky voice and one of his hands cups your breast. Even though you’re still fully clothed the feeling of his hand and the soft squeeze drives you mad with desire.

“Sebastian, we should go somewhere more private before-” You didn’t need to finish that sentence. Sebastian was more than ready to take you to this room and get rid of every piece of clothing. So he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

However, as Sebastian is about to lead you to his room. The common room door opens and you hear Imelda. “Are you two going to join the Slytherin victory party in the Great Hall?” She eyes the both of you as your guilty faces betray what you were up to. “Sebastian, I see you have collected your prize. So, now both of you come with me. I don’t want to be a godmother in nine months.” She raised an eyebrow and pointed to the exit.

There was no arguing with Imelda so defeated, Sebastian and you head up the Slytherin stairs with Imelda behind you. Along the way to the party Sebastian grabs a hold of your hand and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. Imelda groans and looks at you. “Enough smooching! He helped win three games, not the quidditch world cup.” You smile at Sebastian like a love struck idiot and smirks, holding you close. I won something way better than the Quidditch World Cup.

[justanamesstuff]

To be with you, that's all I want - M.H

Matty Healy x reader!DHassistant A/N: and one day she returned posting. For how long? Who knows! Lol...I hope you guys enjoy it! It's something i've started to write ages ago and thought for this 'returning I'll edit one of the drafts i have'. I promise soon I'll post the 'All I Need'!! <33 Let me know what you think! this has a second part 🤭

Warnings: angst, hurt feelings, typos.

Word count: 1.7 K

Blog MASTERLIST

January 

Matty couldn’t help himself, he wanted to keep kissing her until the lack of air broke them apart. Kissing Y/n become an obsession he just wanted to enjoy and not think it was ethically right or wrong. ‘I’ll think about it later”, Matty repeated inside his head, meanwhile his hands roamed around her naked back. The pleasure of having her inside his bed, in his house. 

On the other hand, the kiss didn’t intoxicate Y/n’s mind as much as his when the constant thought she had been having for weeks pushed to be at the front of her mind. Y/n softly placed a hand on the centre of his chest. Matty retreat his face centimetres away from Y/n’s.

She spoke first, “We shouldn’t, Matty.” the sorrow tinting her voice didn’t reach him. 

“What we shouldn’t, baby?” he asked, totally enamorated by her. 

“We need to stop.”

That phrase hit him fully. Matty leaned back –although still touching her–, giving Y/n enough freedom to move away and out of the bed. 

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” Matty spat hurt.

She didn’t even look at him. Too nervous about what she would found in them. Y/n didn’t felt the urge Matty was feeling inside his heart, which pumped hard and fast. 

“I’m not judging you or anything, but you’re just messing around, and I-” Y/n tried explaining her thoughts. Although, the words she had been thinking on for weeks, the speeches she had been rehearsing were nowhere to be found inside her head. 

After giving Y/n the space to keep talking, but annoyed about her position, Matty urged to keep going, “You?”

“I want something serious, Matty. You don’t want that.” Y/n directly told him, resuming her worries. 

“Maybe I’d want it with you?” the singer knew what he wanted, even though he wasn’t sure about her, making his mouth and mind twist the words. 

His position confirmed Y/n’s fears.

“But you don’t want it now, Matty.” she said, pulling her jumper down. “I know myself. If we keep this going, I’ll catch feelings…and it would mess everything between us, I don’t want that.”

“So, you just decided for the both of us?” the anger building in Matty’s stomach.

“Matty, come on.” for the first time since she exited the comfort of his bed, Y/n looked into his brown eyes. 

“What?” he was obviously pissed.

“Please, understand.” she begged.

“I want you.”

She didn’t believe him. “Yeah, now…but be sincere, with you, with me…you don’t want a relationship right now, and it’s okay.”

Matty couldn’t stop the words falling from his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe-” 

The singer was in a complicated position. He wanted her, but Matty didn’t want to push Y/n to do something she was so clearly against to. And above all for the sake of his ego he wasn’t going to beg. 

“Maybe it’s not enough, Matty.”

“Y/n…”

“I think- I better go.”

“No, don’t leave, angel.”

“I’ll see you later, Matty.”

“Y/n!”

Matty fell back, hearing the front door closed with a big sound. 

—----------------------------------------------

March

Y/n searched between all the documents placed in front of her. Jaime had asked for some of them because those had to be signed by Monday. As the perfect assistant she was, Y/n would never leave those for the last minute. 

Also, on Monday, she wanted to stay in the safety of her little office. The guys would be back home by Monday for a brief time until they had to return to the USA. 

For the last two months, Y/n had been away from the band and specially from Matty. During the first week, he tried to contact her countless times, but Y/n decided to stay strong on her decision. It was for the better.

****

Once Y/n spotted the documents Jaime requested and her computer was off, since handed the papers were the last task for the day, she walked the short way from her office to Jaime’s. 

While she was walking, Y/n thought about the multiple outfit options for her plans that night. She wasn’t overly excited about them, but her friends and therapist insisted on starting to go out and meet new people. 

****

At the same time, Y/n knocked and opened the big door. 

“Jamie?”

“Come in.” the manager said out of habit. 

“Um, here are the docu-” Y/n’s eyes moved from the documents on her hand to the desk occupying the room. Jaime wasn’t alone. “Hey.” Y/n greeted him. 

“Hi.” Matty spoke, making her heart burst. 

Y/n didn’t know what to add, so her attention returned to Jamie. “Yeah- Um, here are the document you-”

Jaime cut her short, “What are you doing still here, Y/n?” his tone was warm but stern. 

“I was finishing this.” Y/n could feel Matty’s eyes on her, although she kept hers on Jaime, since she was a bit bewildered about his question.

“It wasn’t urgent.”

“I know, but I wanted to finish it.”

“Okay, thank you…go home, Y/n. Enjoy your weekend!” he urged her with a smile.

Y/n obeyed, without saying more than a quick, “Thanks.” 

****

Her heart was moving fast and her skin tingling when Y/n started arranging her office, so she could leave as soon as possible.

Y/n didn’t close the door after she entered her office, so the sound startled her. Matty was inside, staring directly at her. 

“Are you in a rush?” he folded his arms in front of his chest. 

Matty looked the same as she remembered, and at the same time a stranger. Two months can change you from head to toe. 

“Yes…kinda. I’ve somewhere to be-”

“You were ignoring me. I’ve trying to reach out to you since I landed home.”

Y/n looked inside the bag she was meant to close, noticing her phone showing a good amount of notifications. She had been ignoring the phone, keeping the world and specially her friends constantly talking about the date. 

“I’ve been busy, like you, I guess.” Y/n spat. 

“Why are you angry?”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, Y/n. You’re really happy to see my face after two long months…”

She checked –again– if the computer was off and her belongings inside her bag before looking at Matty. 

“I need to go now.”

“Running away again…you mean.” Y/n felt her cheeks warmer than before because he was right, she was trying to scape his presence. 

“I’m not-”

“Where are you going?” Matty asked her without embarrassment.

Y/n answered cryptic, “I have…plans.”

“You never have plans on Fridays.” Matty accusing her of lying pissed her.

“You haven’t been around for the past two months. You don’t know what’s going on with my-”

The singer interrupted her, “Then tell me.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t have to, Matty.” Y/n said, rounding her desk, reaching for the door. Matty didn’t move a single muscle of his body, blocking her way out. “Matty, move.” Y/n asked, trying to keep her composure. 

“No.”

Matty knew how to drive her insane. “You can be so childish!”

“Let me take you home.” he offered, with a tone that showed second intentions. 

“I’m not going home.”

Y/n couldn’t help to avoid feeling pulled towards him. Having Matty so close after so long did big damage to her senses. 

“Where then?”

She wasn’t telling him.

“Please, move.”

“Y/n…”

“I have a date, okay? Are you happy now? Move!”

“With whom?”

Y/n looked up to his eyes, starting with a, “Not your-”

Although he cut her short, “Oh, yes, it’s my fucking business!”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” she fought back. 

Matty knew what she was referring, even though chose keeping insisting. “Tell me his name, Y/n.”

“Matty, I’m begging you…let me go.”

“No.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“Name.”

“Fuck- Sam.” 

Sam was a friend of the guys, he was closer with Ross than with the rest, and someone Matty knew fancied Y/n for the longest. 

“No…he didn’t dare-”

“Happy? Move.”

“Fuck no, Y/n. You’re not going.” Matty spoke like he was some authority over her, or her boyfriend or someone close. Someone he had never been to her or wanted to.

Y/n didn’t hesitate to scream, “Who the fuck do you think you are, Matty?”

“Since when?” Matty wanted to know how long the bastard waited for asking her on a date.

“Since…it’s not your business, Healy.”

“It is if the jackass is trying to steal you from-“

“Steal me from you? Am I an object now? ‘Course I am…what else would I be to you?” the dry laugh burned her from the inside out. 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“

“Like what then, ha? Please, Matty!” Y/n scoffed, pushing him to the side. 

“Please, don’t go.” the singer tried stopping her while pushing the door close. He was scared of touching her. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this, here…right now.” she said, with her eyes closed. Maybe it was a nightmare. 

“What do you mean?”

“May I remind you of her? Have you lost your mind?”

Matty has been on every single magazine, portal, news website and so on for the last two months. Stuff she had to go through every single day for the last two months since one of her tasks at work was keeping updated on the public opinion about the band. He perfectly knew that. 

The reason behind it was his relationship with a worldwide known celebrity. A girl that was everything she would never be. They had been cut it short after a heated romance –or that reported the different sites and fan accounts all over the internet.

“She’s not- We’re not…you know.” Matty tried. 

“Yes, I know you chose her. You chose to be with her, after telling me you might want to be… remotely be with me-“

“And you rejected me!”

His world made her open her eyes once more. “Oh! So I pushed you to be with her?! That’s what you mean? Perfect.”

“No, no. You are twisting my words.” Matty accused her. She couldn’t believe the man. 

“I can’t do this right now, and I don’t want to do it later. I couldn’t care less.” Y/n wasn’t sure if her words were directed to Matty, her, or both. 

“Stay, please. We can fix this.” he begged. 

“Healy, there were never a ‘we’.” Y/n stated, cold. “Good luck with her or whatever.” 

In a quick move, Y/n walked fast, moving far from him. Matty stood in the middle of the hallway, looker her leave him behind…again. 

To be continued...

[mamirhodessxox]

I hate you more (Part 2)

Mafia!Cody Rhodes x Fem OC!Mafia Reader

(Sasha Francesca Ricci)

Enemies to lovers trope

Credits to @alyyaanna for helping me come up w the storyline because I had like 3 different mental breakdowns trying to figure out what to do

Storyline: Sasha was born into a world of darkness and fear, Despite the harsh circumstances she was out in she managed to drag herself into finding love at a young age especially when she least expected it but unfortunately not all love stories are fairytales, Sasha resented the man who once brought her love in her life just to leave and break her heart while having the audacity to invade her life many years once again and give her conflict of love and war on how she was to overcome the feelings she feared while trying to focus on her job with him being so close and invasive to her.

Contents: Smut in future chapters, Knife Play, Choking king, Degradation kink, Praising Kink, Alcohol, Smoking, Violence, Mentions of m1rder, drug dealing, Fluff, Angst.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Story Inspired Playlist:

Living under the same roof with someone you truly hated and had to see them every single day of your life wasn’t easy one would assume, and for Sasha it wasn’t, Seth had to convince her to Just keep herself calm & not act on any urges on killing Cody whenever she was angry.

And for a while she was doing really good, she remained tolerable & respectful but at some point she snapped, that was today, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Randy heard her shout from the kitchen & made his way over there as he soon saw Cody, Athena, Seth & Sasha in the kitchen, “I can’t fucking believe NEITHER of you! This is as low as you could possibly fucking go Cody” She pointed a knife at Cody’s face which made Seth get up from the kitchen table and grab the knife “Of course You just HAVE to stick your dick into my friends don’t you?! Your that fucking desperate for pussy since I won’t give it to you that you go and fuck whoever you possibly fucking can huh?” She spat harsh words at Cody while he just stood there smirking with crossed arms “What? Someone feeling a little envious that I didn’t fuck he-“ “FUCK YOU!” She shouted and lunged at him but Randy grabbed her “Can you two just fucking NOT be civil for more than a goddamn week?!” Randy scolded while Athena quietly walked out of the kitchen after being told to leave.

Seth & Randy had walked Sasha away from the kitchen while they yelled at each other. Cody felt guilty but he was also good at putting his ego first to where he would make it seem like he wasn’t, but then when he heard a slight sob throughout the hallway and a complaint about how she just wanted to live her life without him screwing with her head he started feeling the guilt. Seth sighed hugging his sister while Randy pinching the bridge of his nose & walked off shaking his head.

“I hate him Seth! He’s ruining my life & everything in it!” He frowned rubbing her back in comfort before she got it together and shoved Seth away & stormed off outside. After she left the inside portion of the mansion Cody soon walked over to Seth trying to speak but ultimately got shut down “You need to shut your fucking mouth before I stitch it shut. I don’t care what the fuck is happening that is my goddamn sister & I will always take her side.” He poked at Cody’s chest “Your lucky I didn’t let her kill you right then and there, seriously Cody? Fucking her friends? Put your goddamn ego down for a split second & realize the more you screw up like that will never get you the chance you want with Sasha.” He scolded before shaking his head scoffing & leaving Cody alone.

Meanwhile Sasha sat at the poolside dipping her fingers in the water sniffling, she refused to cry over him, she picked at her shorts for a little bit zoning in and out of reality not even noticing Athena was approaching her “Sash-“ she shook her head in response not even looking at Athena “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” “Sasha it was a mistake. We both knew it was wrong & fucked up so we stopped, last mont-“ Sasha shook her head “I don’t want to know. I don’t care to know. Nor do I care enough to hear you and him out right now. I want my space that’s why I’m out here so give me that space. I’ll speak to you when I’m ready.” Athena frowned nodding her head before walking back to the house leaving Sasha by herself again. Cody watched from afar standing by his car, he waited for her to do something but she didn’t even look like she was breathing, she was still, He felt relief for a moment when she saw her move her arm up to wipe her face before letting out a short cry followed with a mumble & a shake on the head.

Eventually she got up and walked inside to go to her room & stay there for the remainder of the night. Usually she would be there for dinner at the table with everyone else but Cody felt bad knowing her presence was missing because of his own actions. Barbra set the table & furrowed her eyes “Where’s Sasha? She should’ve been down here by now.” Seth served the food shaking his head and while everyone sat down. “She’s not attending dinner tonight. She’s in her room.” Barbra frowned “Then I suppose I’ll bring her up some foo-“ Cody stood up for a moment grabbing The plate & bowl that was supposed to be Sashas and filled them up with the food being served “I’ll bring her the food Mrs. Ricci. You just eat.”

Barbra quirked up an eyebrow as she watched him walk off and look at everyone else “He fucked up big time didn’t he?” Seth & Randy nodded their head, Cody went upstairs & carefully opened her bedroom door seeing Sasha rolled over on bed reading. “Your mom had me bring up food since, You’re not down there.” He spoke setting the plate & bowl down on her night stand followed with utensils “Spaghetti & Salad tonight.” He named tonight’s dinner before shutting the door softly with the back of his shoe while watching Sasha sit up to eat thinking he left “Why are you still in here? Get out you did your job.” He shook his head “Cody. I’m not playing your games tonight, quite frankly I’m exhausted with them & I’m trying to be as calm as I can right now so I’m going to ask again. Get out of my room.” He shook his head again

“No. I won’t.” She frowned and sighed running her hands down her face “You just love to make my life hell don’t you, is that want you want Cody? Ruin my life? Make me miserable? Because I’m positive you already achieved that goal.” He frowned and stood next to her bed looking down at her “You really think that’s why I’m here Sash’ so I could make you miserable?” She nodded crossing her arms and leaning against her head board “You fucked one of my friends in the same roof as me so I’m assuming that’s what you want,” She croaked a bit and cleared her throat since she started to sound like she was about to cry “Sweetheart that’s not what I want, far from it.” She leaned away and shook her head “Please don’t call me that, don’t speak to me like that I know what you’re doing & I want you to stop Cody.” He tilted his head and kicked off his shoes just to climb on her bed “Cody please I’m asking you Nicely.” She whimpered out but broke her rules when he got next to her and wrapped her in his arms, For a moment she sat there & he thought he finally got to her but she ended up crying and pushing herself away “Get out! GET OUT!” He shook his head and got closer to her “Sasha I’m not leaving this room until you ope-“ “GET OUT!” She shouted again & even got out of the bed

“You already made my life a goddamn hell you don’t need to play whatever fucking manipulation tactic you are right now! So get the fuck out!” He glared and got up “I’m not fucking manipulating you! I’m trying to get through to you and make shit right!” “YOU FUCKED MY FRIEND CODY! THERE’S NO MAKING SHIT RIGHT!” He scoffed “You’re insufferable Sasha I fucked up one ti-“ she swung open the door and stormed out while he chased after her “Don’t fucking walk away from me while I talk to you!” Everyone turned their heads from the table as they heard the two screaming their heads off at each other & just continued eating while Sasha stormed out of the house as Cody yelled at her to get back inside but she refused.

Just as she walked out on him she slammed into someone else’s chest & huffed out & soon looked up to see her most confusing situation-ship at the mansion. Roman wrapped his arm around her “What’s got you all worked up gorgeous?” He questioned while she frowned and dug her head into his chest sighing while Cody stood by the door glaring him down while Roman raised a brow “You the one causing trouble on my girl?” Cody scoffed as he stared down Roman “Of course this is who she’d run off to.” Roman tilted his head before looking down at Sasha and holding her face “Is he bothering you?” Cody sighed and crossed his arms over his chest “Look just stay out of this Roman this has nothing to do with y-“ “Oh but it does, I know you’ve been bothering her recently & I simply just won’t allow that.” He placed Sasha behind him before getting in Cody’s face before snickering and shoving him & welcoming himself into the house while Sasha stood there awkwardly & tense before Cody shook his head “Roman?” Sasha mocked him in the same tone as his voice “Athena?” He furrowed his brows and hesitantly held a hand against her cheek “Sasha c’mon.” She shook her head “No. Not again, not ever.” She spoke before walking back inside and sticking to Romans side while he spoke with her mother.

Cody observed from a distance & even glared, Sasha turned her head for a split moment behind Romans shoulder making eye contact with him & frowned before he caught her attention by patting your hip “Why don’t we get you to bed huh? I’m sure you’re fucking exhausted with the month you’ve had doll.” She smiled meekly before nodding her head & taking him up to her room just as Seth walked out of it grabbing the dishes that were left behind during the fight between her & Cody. Seth nodded his head a bit at Roman before making his way down the stairs completely ignoring Cody’s presence.

For the next two weeks Cody had a difficult time focusing in his work especially when he saw the woman who was once his cling around another man that he hated for many years. He noticed things about Sasha that were completely changing for Romans benefit. Cody always knew her as a woman who was independent but when Roman came around she would try sucking up to him just for the slightest bit of affection. Later that night Cody walked into the kitchen with Sasha sitting in there alone once again organizing the pantry to keep herself from going into her room. “You seem tired.” He spoke out while she shrugged “Roman needs space s-“ “So he kicked you out of your own room?” She looked over and let out a breathy laugh nodding “It sure does seem like it huh?” Cody smiled “It sure does.” They weren’t used to this, it felt strange, getting along, “I guess my affection becomes a little too overwhelming.” Cody furrowed his brows

“He must be stupid, any man is lucky enough to get that side of you Sasha. And you’re not very affectionate either to the average citizen. he shouldn’t be taking that for granted, you had actual bags under your eyes from not sleeping souly because he kicked you out if your own room.” She sighed running her nails through her hair while observing how Cody looked, he looked like the same person she fell in love with many a years ago. “C’mon you’re sleeping with me tonight.” “Cody- no that’s Inappropriate, I ca-“ he gave her a warned look before grabbing her hand and taking her upstairs to his room. For a moment the room was silent and tense, It started bothering Cody so he had finally spoke up “I’m sorry about the whole thing with Athena. It aas fucked up, I did it to piss you off and then it started lasting for a few weeks but then I put it to an end before you found out.” Sasha’s ears practically perked up a bit “Why’d you put it to quits?” He shook his head “Just..didn’t feel like screwing someone I wasn’t connected with in any sort of way.” Bullshit. He’s in love with Sasha.

She smiled meekly and sat crisscrossed on his bed, for hours they reminisced on the past & actually got along, Cody liked the way she smiled or cackled at one of his old lame jokes he used to tell her when they were teenagers in love, the night was still so young & they laid in the bed wrapped in each other’s arms, Cody hummed as her fingers massaged his scalp His breath waving against her lips whenever he spoke, the tension re entered his room and Cody had enough of it, his lips ghosted against hers while she grazed her nails against his arm before he ripped off the band aid and pressed his lips against hers and slipped his tongue past her lips and moved with hers. She moaned softly as the pair made out for a few minutes until she grew sleepy

“I hate you.” She mumbled while he chuckled nodding, “I hate you more” Tonight was the moment he realized that whenever they said ‘I hate you’re to each other that was their own fucked up way of saying ‘I love you’ once he knew she was knocked asleep he got up and went into her bedroom to see Roman placing cameras around her room “Your fucking sick.” Cody scoffed before grabbing one of the cameras breaking them “You keep your damn mouth shut about this Or el-“ Cody cocked his head to the sighed raising a brow before ripping off Romans chain and punching him square in the jaw “Or else what huh?” He taunted before punching him again causing some of Romans face to begin bleeding which made his chain become bloody before setting it down on her desk as he kicked roman out of her bedroom & ultimately shoving him down the stairs “Get the fuck out of her house now before I kill you.” Roman scoffed as he sat on the ground of the foyer holding his jaw “This will never be over Cody.” He got up and stormed out of the Mansion while Seth came out of his room waking up due to the ruckus “the fuck..?” Cody shook his head going back into his room & lying down right against Sasha letting her rest.

Cody was a dead man. He knew his heart was deadset on Sasha but he also knew it would take an army’s worth of work just to get her to give him another chance. Even if that included getting rid of Roman.

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

@alyyaanna

[pinkroseblooms]

It's Better Than Regretting

Kikaku Hanbee/f!Reader, post break up, mentions of sex and some light dirty talk (once again, minors dni) probably a little OOC but I tried. This fandom needs more content and this crazed witch like man has a place in my heart. The title is lyrics from "Crashed the Wedding" by Busted which was what inspired me to write this. Summary: Post breakup, Kikaku finds out you've agreed to a marriage of convenience. word count: 4.1k

Kikaku feels the wedding invite burning a hole in his pocket; he takes a long drink of beer, wondering for the tenth time if this is a mistake. The two of you broke up; he and you wanted different things out of life. So what if his parents were friendly with your old man? No one expected the two of you to end up together. In fact, Kikaku had been made all too aware of your father’s disapproval of him. When you got your first piercing, when you got drunk for the first time and missed an exam, when you started staying out all hours of the night frequenting different music venues, the blame was placed squarely on Kikaku’s shoulders for being a bad influence on his perfect princess.

It was always like that; your father would say he was only looking out for you, but Kikaku called it how it actually was; all he was doing was forcing his own expectations onto his only daughter. You had come to him many times, complaining about the feeling of suffocation, wondering how you were supposed to call the man “family” when you couldn’t even talk to him half the time without walking on eggshells. Kikaku didn’t have any answers, aside from telling you “Fuck that shit” and take you out for a good time. 

Eventually, inevitably, the two of you transitioned from friends to friends with benefits; sitting and nursing his beer, Kikaku tries to shove the memory out of his head to no avail. How could he forget? His band had played one of their first shows and barely anyone had showed up, and the people that did hated them. 

You had been the only friendly face at the bar, toasting to him at the end of their set with a sympathetic smile. None of his other girls were answering his texts; you were there and the two of you had a little too much to drink at his place. When the other members left and it was just you and him, Kikaku let you hug him; according to you, he looked like he really needed one, but that wasn’t all he needed. Your body was soft and your breath smelled sweet and sharp from the plum wine. Before Kikaku could communicate to his brain that his dick was acting up around you and it would be a bad idea to act out on this sudden urge, you had kissed the top of his head and squeezed him to your chest. Kikaku can’t remember too much of what happened afterward, only flashes and sensations and waking up in the morning with a raging migraine and you laying nude on the futon next to him. 

It was a good thing the two of you had for a long time until the day you had come back to his apartment and refused a make out session with a serious expression. Kikaku could have guessed the problem; it was always the problem with his main girls. They got too close, too attached, even though Kikaku really didn’t make much of a secret that he wasn’t into the whole exclusive thing. Frankly, he didn’t think what the two of you had was special. You just had the benefit of knowing him the longest and being his friend first. 

That being said, you never showed signs of jealousy or feeling hurt by Kikaku’s other lovers, so he really hadn’t expected that to be the reason you decided to end things officially and not just the sex, but everything. No more shows or take out or movie nights. No more being friends; you called it being amiable. When you crossed paths, you would say hello and engage in a little small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Kikaku accepted without making a fuss; he was in a shitty mood for a while but hey, getting dumped is never fun.

“Is that why you ended things?” Kikaku cut right to the chase as soon as you took the stool next to him; he slid the card over to your coaster, like it was some distasteful object. “You wanted to make things serious with this guy?”

“Hello to you too. How did you get this? Oh no, just water please.” You told the bartender, who had just come over to take your order. “Kikaku, my father sent this to your parents; how did you get it?”

“Wow, you weren’t even planning to invite an old friend to such a grand occasion?” Kikaku grumbles. “Cold. I thought you said no hard feelings.”

“I heard you were busy with work; besides, since when do you enjoy going to formal parties?” You give him a wry half smile. “Unless there’s an open bar.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Father spared no expense.” You hold your glass of water but don’t take a drink. “He set up the whole thing. I didn’t even have to worry about picking out a dress. It’s all been decided.”

“What, did he pick out the groom too?”

Kikaku snorts but your smile is nowhere to be seen; you take the invitation and push it over to him. 

“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like your parents to come if they can. They’ve always been good to me; they’ve treated me more like a daughter than he ever did.” You tell him softly. “I must look pretty lame to you, huh? Letting my father marry me off and domesticate me. Is that why you called? Did you want a good laugh?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Kikaku turns so quickly in his seat, he nearly knocks over his now empty glass. “I was joking: did your old man really pick the guy out? What, did he send out a resume or something?”

“He works at the same company; we’ve met a few times. His name’s Kenji Hazawa. He needs a wife and my father needs me to settle down. A match made in heaven.”

“So? What is wrong with you?” Kikaku’s eyes scan your face, hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth so casually. “You’re gonna let your dad marry you off to some asshole you don’t even like?”

“Stop. I do not need you, of all the people in the fucking world judging my decisions.” You fix him with a cold stare. “I gave it to you for free. You know what I get with Kenji? A comfortable life and my father finally off my back. I get freedom.”

“How?! How the hell is selling yourself to the highest bidder-?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s why I never told you. That's why I stopped talking to you.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You just don’t get it, Kikaku. I’m a single woman nearly past her expiration date, father’s words not mine, and no one is letting me hear the end of it. I’m done fighting against it all by myself.”

“You don’t have to do this. He can’t force you.”

“It’s already decided. I just have to walk down the aisle and say ‘I do’ and I never have to worry about money or being looked down on again. Sweet deal, isn’t it? Sorry. I guess I’m not the cool badass bitch I thought I was.” You roll your eyes and suck in a breath of air. “I tried doing it my way and what did I get? My father is ready to disown me, everyone in my life is treating me like a joke, minus your folks.”

“I never-”

“No, no, I wasn’t a joke to you. I was a good time.” You correct yourself. “Well, now I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted and weak, alright? There, I admit it. I’ve been on my own in this and I’m sick and tired of it all. Is it really that different than you giving up music professionally for your merchandising job?”

“My job doesn’t fuck me.” 

The sentence slipped out before Kikaku could filter himself; but it’s true, isn’t it? Won’t your husband expect you to perform your wifely duties? Kikaku’s nails dig into his palms; he can’t get the image out of his head, a faceless man, on top of you, taking you as though you’re his. You might get pregnant. 

“How is this happening? She’s mine…she was mine.”

“It sounds like your job fucks you plenty.” You take a sip of water. “So, is that your issue? You won’t have the chance to get in my pants again if I’m spoken for?”

“Stop changing the subject, this isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you.” 

Kikaku glares at you, but somehow can’t bring himself to truly be angry; you’re being so despondent and resigned. The person sitting next to him might as well be a stranger. The fire is gone from your eyes and the sly quirk of your lips is nowhere to be seen. But then, maybe that was just the face you showed him. Kikaku can’t even defend himself and say you hadn’t made him aware of what you were going through. You had, multiple times, for years. He just wasn’t taking it to heart. At some point, you apparently decided to pull back entirely. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I don’t hate you, Kikaku. This isn’t your business and I never meant for you to even know about the damn wedding. I’m going to get married next week and it’ll be okay. Kenji is a good man; we get along enough. We both know it’s a marriage of convenience.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your dull eyes. “Who knows? Maybe somewhere down the line we could fall in love. Either way, we’ll be content. It’s more than most people get to have.” 

“This is fucking crazy. You’re crazy.” Kikaku is hunched over the bar counter; his voice is shaking. He can’t look at you; all he can do is stare blankly at the wood panel. “You can’t be happy with this. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your blessing.” You put a few bills on the table. “Here, I still owe you for the last time we got drinks. You might not believe it, but I’m doing what’s best for me. I’m living my life for me. It’s my choice to do this, to make it all a little easier.”

“Is that the logic you’re using? Give up something to gain something you want more?” Kikaku leaves the bills on the counter, untouched. “Is it really worth it? Is this really what you want?”

“That’s also none of your business.” Despite your words, your tone is almost kind; with a faint smile, you stand up and push in the stool. “Have a goodnight, Kikaku.”

No. You can’t leave now, not like this. That smile is as fake as they come. Kikaku knows what your fake smiles look like; he’s always been able to tell how you’re feeling. He might not have been much of a comfort on your bad days, but he knew when you were having them, and he would try to make it a little better. 

When did that stop? It wasn’t his intention to make you feel uncared for. Kikaku might have played around, but it didn’t make his feelings for you any less. He was just caught up in other things. He had no idea you were having that hard of a time. 

You walk away and Kikaku doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t yell or leap from his chair to drag you from the door. He can’t feel his legs. You’re getting married. You’re going to be someone’s wife. He’ll never be able to make up with you. It’s over. You’re not going to give him the second chance Kikaku hadn’t even realized he had been hoping for. 

“She’s really gone. It’s really over. She’s getting married.” Kikaku mutters to himself. “She’s getting married and I…I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“Hey don’t worry so much. Most marriages end in divorce.” The bartender comes over to collect the empty glasses. “I got married twice and we were actually in love. Besides, if it’s a marriage of convenience, maybe you can be her side piece.”

“Huh?” Kikaku glowered up at the man smiling placidly down at him. “Who the fuck asked you?!”

“Just trying to offer some comfort. I thought you guys weren’t serious anyway. How drunk are you? Don’t you recognize me?” 

“Uh…”

“Nekota? This is my bar; it has been a while, but you came here a few times with a couple of my buddies.” 

“Oh right. Usao-kun and Kumao-kun’s old friend.” Kikaku recalls. “My bad, I was…I’m kinda out of it today.” 

“I could tell. That seemed rough. Want something stronger? On me, but just this once; still gotta make those child support payments after all, haha.” Nekota laughs good naturedly as he pulls down a bottle of tequila from the middle shelf. “Hey, that’s something to drink to; you’re a young bachelor, you’ve got plenty of time to settle down if you want to.”

Settle down? Kikaku never wanted to settle down; that was why things didn’t work between him and you in the first place. He has no right to feel so deflated. 

Was there some secret part of him that hoped you would eventually come back? Well, contrary to Nekota’s assurances, Kikaku doesn’t have time. You’re going to be married in a week. You’ll be someone else’s. He won’t have a place in your world, not any more, not when you’re going to be somebody's beautiful, blushing bride. 

“She doesn’t even love him. How can she do this?”

“Come on, Kikaku, right? Here, have a drink and relax.” Nekota beckons with his hand and sets down the shot of tequila. “The little lady said so herself, it’s not your problem.”

“No. I guess it’s not.”

Nekota is right and Kikaku doesn't need a two time divorcee to lecture him on matters of the heart. You had every right to go and marry another person, for whatever reason. Kikaku isn't even your friend anymore and he's certainly not your boyfriend. You don't owe him a thing and it's not his place to step in and try to convince you to not go through with a sham marriage. You've chosen your path and he's chosen his. All he can do now is toast to your nuptial and hope for the best. He can do that much for you.

"To the bride and groom." 

"Here, here!" Nekota clinks his own shot glass with Kikaku's. "Good man, you're gonna be just fine."

"Cheers." Kikaku slurs and downs his shot in one large swallow. "Here's to the whole thing goes off without a hitch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you take this woman, to have and to hold, to-”

“I OBJECT! NO ONE SAY ANOTHER DAMN WORD, I OBJECT!!!”

It took Kikaku two hours to get up that morning; he had been drinking into the late hours of the night in a last ditch effort to make sure he wasn't able to be mobile today off all days. Even now, dressed sloppily in an old suit, hair hastily tied back and eyes sunken in with sleep deprivation, he feels like he’s running in a dream. The venue is quaint but tastefully decorated in pastels. There’s not many guests; he supposes your father wanted to get the wedding done with little fanfare. The objective was to tie you down, not throw a celebration. 

“Son of a bitch.” Your father is the first one to rise; he addresses you angrily. “Did you invite him?”

“N-no!” 

You look aghast, glancing rapidly between Kikaku as he comes barreling down the aisle and your soon to be husband. Kenji looks twice as confused and a little scared, which is fair, considering how haggard and demented Kikaku looks, like a twitchy spider rushing to catch its prey. You hadn’t heard a peep from Kikaku since that night and his parents had politely turned down your invite, as they had a previous engagement they were committed to attend. It was a good thing they couldn’t, because you’re certain both Kikaku’s mother and father would keel over and die from the spectacle their son is currently making of himself. 

“I said, I object!” 

"Heavens above." The priest frowns. “Not another one.”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?” It’s a wonder Kikaku can yell so loudly when he’s barely breathing; there’ sweat stains at his collar and the underarms of his blazer. “You can’t marry these two-they shouldn’t be married!”

“Who the heck are you?” Kenji’s brows furrow and he looks at you questioningly. “Do you know this guy?”

“Yes.” You sigh. “Kikaku, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I could smell you from the doors. Didn’t I tell you this wasn’t any of your business?”

“I don’t care! Dammit, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, but this isn’t about me.” Kikaku finally manages to speak without gasping. “I get it. You’re tired of dealing with your father’s bullshit and you think this is the only way out, but it’s not.”

“I’m calling the police!” Your father’s face is red and he looks ready to run up to the podium and deck Kikaku in the face. “How dare you? Haven’t you done enough? You weren’t good enough for her then and you sure as hell aren’t now.”

“Dad, you don’t need to call the police,” You look at him pleadingly. “Kikaku will leave on his own. He knows this is what I want.”

“No it’s not.” 

“Dammit, will you leave already!?” You’re the one raising your voice now; hot tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Why, Kikaku? Why are you doing this to me? Are you just upset because I won’t be available anymore? Well, too bad. Go play with one of your girlfriends and stop making a scene.”

“I’m sorry. I'll say it as many times as I have to.” Kikaku steps forward until he’s standing in front of you. “I’m sorry for not listening. I’m sorry it took me this long to get it, but you don’t have to get married.”

“What? Is this your idea of a proposal or something?”

“I don’t deserve you either. I should have been there more. I can be.” Kikaku looks at you, exhausted, desperate. “Don’t do this. Let me be there for you like I should have been all this time. You don’t have to fight on your own, not anymore. I’ll never leave you alone again.”

You blink and tears drip down your cheeks. “Kikaku,”

“I sent out messages to all the girls I was seeing last night. Look at my contact list.” Kikaku takes his phone out of his pocket and shows you the screen; his contact list only has a handful of names, people you recognize as family and work colleagues and friends. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, just…don’t marry this guy.”

“Kikaku, you’re being absolutely-!”

“Hey,” Kenji begins tentatively. “I think he makes a few good points.”

“What?” You turn to stare at your fiance. “But, I agreed to this.”

“It’s not like we’re in love.” Kenji cracks a begrudging smile. “It could’ve been nice but something tells me that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m…I couldn’t just-”

“Also, your friend’s kinda freaking everyone out and I’m a little scared he’s going to put a curse on me.” Kenji glances at Kikaku. “You couldn’t have showered before coming to take the bride away?”

“You-!” Kikaku grabs your hand. “Just for that, you’re cursed! Everyone’s cursed! I hope the open bar is worth it assholes!” his eyes soften as he looks at your stricken face. “Can we talk somewhere more private? I think your old man is gonna kill me before the cops show up.”

You look at his hand; his palm is sweaty. 

“Please.” Kikaku’s voice is hoarse. “I won’t leave without you. I never want to go anywhere without you.”

“Damn you.” You’re really crying now. “You asshole.”

“Yeah.” Kikaku offers a weak smile; he glances down at your dress. “Oh. Wow.”

“Don’t say it.” You shake your head and wipe your eyes aggressively. “I know, it wasn't my choice.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Kikaku exhales and his grip on your hand tightens; he’s only just taking in the sight of you, dressed head to toe in a flowing white gown, dolled up and looking like an angel descended from heaven. 

Maybe he was full of shit because right now all Kikaku wants to do is take you away for himself. He brings a hand up to wipe the tears off your cheek; why do you look so sad? Is he really not wanted here? Is giving himself to you not enough?

“I’ve been a fucking mess all week.” Kikaku admits, eyes searching your face for any sign you don’t despise him. “I couldn’t sleep or eat or focus at work. I’m being shameless, you don’t have to tell me that. Maybe it’s too late for us, but I can still fix this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just tell me what I have to do.”

You’re blushing now under his intense stare. “...take me with you.”

“What?” Kikaku leans in to catch every word. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you, Kikaku. I want you to take me out of here.” You confess, trying not to whimper as his thumb rubs your hot cheek. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Say no more.”

You hike up your skirt and kick off your heels; Kikaku leads the way, the two of you ignore the shouts and gasps and threats being hurled your way by your father. Your eyes stay glued on the hand still clutching onto yours and you run, run, run until the car is in sight, decked out in flowers and a “Just Married” sign on the back. Kikaku opens the passenger side door and guides you into the backseat, even lifting the hem of your skirt so the door doesn’t close on it. The driver, rightfully skeptical and a bit horrified, practically throws the keys at Kikaku when he screeches for them. 

“I think everyone assumes you’re some sort of demon here to kidnap me.” You watch as the driver races up the steps of the venue, probably to explain why he’s left his post. “We’re going to have to return the car.”

“For now we drive,” Kikaku turns the keys, backs out of the parking space, and slams his foot on the gas. 

“This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

“A little.” Kikaku laughs, suddenly quite cheerful. “I’m relieved. I thought I was going to lose you…again. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m still on the fence about that.” You tell him warily, taking off your veil. “Did you really mean all that?”

“I might have lied a tiny bit about not wanting to steal you away. I want you for myself. I know it’s not fair to you, but that’s how I feel. I was going crazy.” Kikaku looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You look really good right now.”

“Thanks.” You adjust your seat belt. “Eyes on the road.”

“I want to fuck you in the dress.” Kikaku blurts out. “Let’s get a hotel and pretend we’re married to get a free bottle of champagne.”

“Aren’t you still hungover?”

“Hair of dog. Besides, this calls for a celebration.” Kikaku smirks a little. “I know it’s scary the first time, but I’ll be gentle with my pretty little bride.”

“Kikaku, was this all so you could play out some weird little fantasy?” You grumble. “I’m gonna jump out of this car and run back and see if Kenji will reconsider.”

“No! I was half joking…I just want you so bad.”

“Kikaku,” You cross your arms. “I mean it, I’m not in the mood for any teasing.”

“I meant it all. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” One of Kikaku’s hands leaves the steering wheel; his playful smile is gone. “Do you not want me anymore? I don’t expect you to believe in me, after everything…but do you want to try again?”

For a tense moment, Kikaku thinks his chest will explode; he might actually die if you say no, even if you have every right to reject him. But then you take his hand and interlock your fingers. You smile, a little exasperated, but it’s a real, genuine smile. It practically blinds him; Kikaku has half a mind to beg you to marry him then and there. There’s still time and Kikaku plans to use it making you fall in love with him so you never regret today.

“Yes.” You kiss the back of his hand and smile brighter than he’s ever seen. “I do.” 

[holylustration]

Dopamine Week #2 - Author Recommendations

This Dopamine Week, I would like to give a special call out to two very important people: my betas, @pallysuune and @qogoist.

You'll know @pallysuune for her many, many works. She has 36 pieces of fiction for the Rogue Trader fandom alone and writes for a variety of minor characters. If you feel an ache in your soul because you want more Nocturne of Oblivion, or Achilleas, or maybe even Calcazar or Kunrad, Pallysuune most likely has you covered.

Beyond just their sheer creativity, one of the things that I really love about Pallysuune's stories are how accessible they are. I don't feel like I need a vast understanding of Warhammer 40,000 to get into them. The plots are compelling and the characters feel organic, and everything I need is right there within the confines of the wordcount.

I will also say that her ability to humanize minor characters is truly unparalleled. In playing Rogue Trader, I didn't think twice about Kunrad or Achilleas or everyone's favorite Harlequin. And then in strides Pallysuune, dangling stories like Moonlight and Shadows or Master of Gossip as a carrot before me! And now I have but no choice to stop and read when I see them.

So, if you haven't already, I'd urge you to give her stories a look. You will find something there to scratch an itch that perhaps you didn't even know you had.

I have the pleasure of calling @qogoist my best friend and my love, but you will probably know him as 1000_Otters. Not only is he a purveyor of badass boss babes, but he is also kind enough to let me borrow his Rogue Traders from time to time (sidearm, anyone?).

Otters has two stories to his name in the Rogue Trader fandom, both of which are highly enjoyable reads.

Now, can you believe that this man decided to make his debut entry into the Rogue Trader fandom by posting Theodora von Valancius dommy mommy smut? That takes serious guts, which is why you should give A Good (little) Soldier a read. Not only is it funny and sexy, but it has a surprising amount of heart for a one-off piece.

His second story is A Rogue's Gambit, which is a Jae Heydari/Female Rogue Trader long-fic. Otters is taking a thoughtful approach to correcting the course of the Jae romance, without losing the soul of everyone's favorite cold trader. There's one chapter up so far (and more on the way!) so now is an excellent time to get invested. His Rogue Trader, Alethea, is an eminently cool cat crime lord that you just can't help but like.

Without these two, I would be hopelessly lost in a sea of typos and repeat words, with trite plots that go no where. So, this Dopamine Week, please join me in showering them with love.

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XII

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 12: (2,3k words)

The lozenges his father bought him taste awful and it’s annoying to have to write out everything he wants to say but you’re curled up next to him on the big living room couch, eyes droopy from exhaustion as his family brainstorms.

“If we put a little heater into the garden house, you could live there until you can move back into your apartment.” His mother offers after you’ve politely explained that you won’t be able to move in with them.

Touya is, after all, still in rehabilitation and you will have to explain all of this at the hearing that is held when he’s finished his first year of working for you.

“I would have to go over that with his rehabilitation officer.” You don’t outright say no and that’s good enough for him right now, but not his mother.

“You do need a room to prepare the Bouquets for the offices, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Until you have a better room to do it in, you can do it here.”

“That’s only two work days.” Natsuo reminds her. “Where would they work the rest of the time?”

Touya waves around his notepad to signal that he wants to say something and starts writing when everyone’s eyes are on him.

When he hands it over to you to read it aloud, he’s still a bit unsure of his idea.

“We could ask the coffee shop next door to use their patio. They won’t need it during the winter.”

You look up at him, hope visible in your features.

“That’s a great idea.” You say. “All we’d need is a tent or a greenhouse as shelter and some heaters. Our customers wouldn’t have to walk further to find us too. We’ll ask tomorrow.”

After that, it’s time for bed. Well, at least for you, as you’re clearly unable to keep awake much longer, and he’s exhausted as well.

-

His feet pull him back to your room though, instead of his own, knocking softly against the door.

You’re already in your pajamas, a droopy smile on your face as you realize that it’s him.

He opens his mouth to speak, willing to test his throat again, but your finger is on lips as you shake your head and pull him into your room.

Their guest room is smaller than his own bedroom, now filled to the brim with the plants you saved from the fire. There’s only a small path leading to the bed and you pull him along by his forearm, urging him to sit down.

When he does, you take his bandaged hands and pull them up, dropping a kiss on each bandaged palm before looking up at him with an emotion in your eyes he hasn’t seen there before.

“Thank you.” You whisper. “For doing all this. I can never repay you.”

He shakes his head, readying himself to speak again when you shush him yet again.

“I have to say this now or I might never dare to.”

His mouth is dry, tongue sticking to his teeth as he wishes for one more of his awful lozenges. At least it would give him something to do.

You take a deep breath and look to your side where the battered holiday cactus is placed on your nightstand.

“I cannot offer you anything.” You start, your voice a little wobbly but serious. “I don’t know how long it will take to rebuild the shop but I know I will never have a big company. You’ve pushed the sales so much already, but even if I’d be able to keep this growth up, I don’t want something big. I just want a quiet life. I can’t offer you more than that and it’s okay, it really is, if you take your out now. The door is open, you can grow on your own. Rico will take you in and help you on your last steps if you want. You can go back to school and become a landscape architect or open up your own shop when you’re ready. You’ve got the talent, all you need is a little bit of experience and help. I will not hold you back or hold it against you.”

“Why do you want me to leave?” He asks, voice hoarse, the sound still hurting his throat a little.

You’re crying now, silent tears dripping down your cheeks.

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize you’ve outgrown me.”

“Can’t you see I’m doing my best to reach your height?” He asks. “And I’ve not even reached your knees.”

You laugh, a wobbly, wet sound and he pulls your hands as you give in, fall into him and fit just perfectly onto his lap.

Your head fits snuggly under his chin, your tears dry in his shirt, but you’re there with him, so close that he can hear both your hearts beat in sync.

“I will not leave.” He whispers. “No matter how long the door stays open.”

You don’t fall asleep in his arms, even though he wishes you could.

When your tears have dried, you climb off him and remind him that there are still three months left until his hearing. That you will have to speak on his behalf. 

“I love you.” You say, your hand in his hair, your eyes full of an emotion that makes his skin feel tight around his bones, “But we cannot date before this isn’t over.”

He takes your hands and presses a kiss into each palm.

“I can be patient.” He whispers, careful about his throat.

“Go to bed then,” You tell him, as if you’re not holding him captive with your eyes and your smile.

He dreams of the two of you that night, grown into each other and around each other, like the tree in his garden.

- 

You are not dating.

You are not sleeping under the same roof.

You do not kiss and he hasn’t told you he loves you since that night at his house.

At least not aloud, with words that others can hear.

He’s bought you a pair of gloves, the warmest pair he could find. One that would keep your hands warm but allow you to use them at the same time.

You buy him a similar pair, handing him his present the day he gifts you yours, laughter filling the air when you realize that you’ve both had the same thought. 

Your shop is now a greenhouse on the patio of the coffee shop, the doors open during the day to let in customers even though it’s freezing outside.

He makes sure to keep you warm and fed and even though the days are long, you stay longer, pretending to busy yourself around the little makeshift shop to talk to him.

You talk about Toga’s life and Shouto’s broken heart, Rico’s inability to get a second date and Kibe-san’s moods. 

You talk until it gets too cold to stay, until he drives you home so that he can park in front of your temporary apartment, and keep talking, until even the car turns cold and you hug him goodbye, whispering a quick “See you tomorrow.”

Three months feel like an eternity but the days pass before him in the blink of an eye.

-

“Hey,” He says one evening as you’re closing up. It’s slowly getting warmer and the apartment building is almost finished too. “How old are you? You know, just in case I’d be dating a minor.”

You laugh.

“And here I thought you’d step up to it and guess correctly.”

He looks at you, at the grin you’re sporting, and shoots his shot one last time.

“You’re my age.”

“Bingo.” You grin. “Now was that so hard?”

“But we didn’t go to school together, right? I would have remembered you, I think.”

You shake your head, still clearly amused at how this topic still occupies his mind.

“No, I went to a public school not far from here.”

“Jinbocho?” He guesses correctly but frowns. “That school looks so new.”

“It is. I went to the old one before it burned down. Just down the street from the park. It was… uh…” You hesitate for a second. “I was in the building when it burned down. I was an angsty teen back then and the school was going to be rebuilt soon. I think I wanted to collect old flowers and stuff from in there or something like that.”

“How long ago was that?” He asks, half his mind focused on the question of your saviors identity, the other half concerned for you. “How do you feel about it now?”

“Not gonna lie, the fire freaked me out a bit. If you’d-” Your voice breaks and he steps forward to take your hand, to hold it in the relative safety of their makeshift shop. 

“I needed you to be safe.” He whispers and you nod. “I understand that. But I need you to be safe too.”

“I am.” He promises. “I will be.”

You hug him, not as long as he’d like, but your head fits perfectly against his shoulder as you let him sway you around for a second.

“I was thirteen,” you tell him when you step back again, voice serious as you pretend to be busy with the cut flowers.

“We just got out of a rough spot with the shop and mom didn’t want me to spend money on anything, scared we’d not have it later when we’d really need it. All I wanted was to go shopping with friends. I didn’t even need stuff, I just wanted to be able to walk through a shopping center with them. Mom always thought that pretending to shop would just lead to us actually shopping.”

He listens to you talk, never tired of the tales of your life. 

There’s so much he still wants to know. How you dressed back in school. What your friends were like back then. Did you join a club in school or stay home helping with the shop?

Your smile returns as you talk until you end up laughing, snorting at the memory of your father trying his hand at owning a pet goldfish. He’s not sure how one memory could lead to another and another and eventually to this, but he laughs with you, too enamored with your smile to keep himself from it.

“You should get home.” You remind him. “I can’t afford to pay you for overtime.”

“I’ll take you.” He slips into his jacket and hands you your scarf. “Any chance you want to grab some food on the way?”

“Touya.” You sound a little exasperated but there’s still a smile tugging on your lips. “I think buying me food could be considered dating.”

“Oh, we’re not dating.” He reassures you with the same smile. “I buy all my friends dinner when I drive them home.”

“Sure, sure.” You roll your eyes fondly when he opens the car door for you and waits for you to slip inside. “I’ll ask Toga about that when she comes by the next time.”

He laughs and jogs around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

“Toga doesn’t count as a friend. She’s more of an annoying younger sibling.”

-

He forgets about your story over your banter until he returns home and finds his father at the kitchen table, struggling with the phone in his hands.

“Hey Dad.” He pours himself a glass of juice. “Do you remember that school in Jinbocho? The one that burned down?”

“Huh? I’m not sure, but do you know- ugh, do you know how this thing works? I’m supposed to log into this app that my assistant downloaded but I can’t figure out how it works.”

“Show me.” He takes a look and snorts. 

“The newspaper app? Don’t you have that already?”

“You know I struggle with small writing. I like the newspaper better in paper.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, grandpa.” He logs in and, after a sudden idea, types something into the search field.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just looking if they have an article about that school. Remember when I asked you if you ever saved a girl from a fire? Maybe you remember it when you see a picture.”

“Son, there are just too many fires to remember them all.” His father sighs but grabs his reading glasses again when Touya turns the phone and proudly presents an article.

“Huh. I mean, I remember that building, but I don’t remember being called to a fire there. When did that happen?”

Touya checks for the date and watches the gears in his father’s head turn.

“That wasn’t so long after you’ve left us. November… I might be off a few days but I think that was when Natsuo brought home a stomach bug and we all went down for a week. I don’t remember being called to a fire around that time.”

Touya huffs in annoyance.

“But if you didn’t save her and Shouto didn’t save her, who did?”

“Well if it wasn’t you either, it might have been something with a quirk that involves being fireproof. It’s admirable that you’re so invested in this but if your boss isn’t pushing for an answer, maybe you shouldn’t either.”

Touya rolls his eyes at that advice and picks the phone up one last time, looking at the pictures of the school, before and after the fire.

The sight triggers something in his mind he can’t access but then again, he’s walked past that building year after year after year as a child, of course he’d remember it.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake @tiredslepz @frozen-phoenix17 @spltbtch @touyasprettydoll @dream-girl-stuff

taglist is open, if you want to join, just mention it in a comment or send me a message.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[whumpinggrounds]

Writing Disability and the Idea of Cure

Heyyyy it’s me. Wanted to write about this following my post about Writing Deaf Characters.

Please note - this post is intended for people writing about disabled characters, not a nuanced, in-depth discussion of disability and the idea of cures. I’m happy to discuss that too, if anyone wants, but I’m not going to make a big long post about it because my thoughts and feelings are too complex to be summarized in that way. Anyway -

Conceptions of Disability

There are many, many ways of looking at disability. I’m going to highlight two here that are extremely common today in America. They each have upsides, and they each have downsides.

The medical model of disability treats disability as an individual medical problem to be solved. In this framework, disability is a bodily impairment that should be solved through medical means and medical interventions.

The upsides of the medical model include the fact that it acknowledges that disability or its consequences can be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and undesirable in themselves. Someone who experiences chronic pain saying they wish that they weren’t in pain is not ableist, nor is it self-hating, in the view of the medical model. This mode also prompts progress in seeking ways to medically alleviate symptoms.

The downsides of the medical model are that it does not acknowledge inaccessibility or ableism, nor does it allow for joy and identification with disability. The problems associated with disability are located firmly within the disabled individual - the problem is not with the world, but with the disabled person themselves. Disability is always something to be fixed or cured, and choosing to identify with one’s disability or feel proud of it is bizarre at best.

The social model of disability views disability as a social condition, wherein disabled people are impaired by ableism and an inaccessible world. In this framework, disabled bodyminds do not need to change, rather, it is the world and neurotypical, able-bodied people who must adjust.

The upsides of the social model of disability range from encouraging disabled pride to centering the massive harm that ableism and inaccessibility do to disabled people. It recognizes and promotes human diversity, and asks that the world adapt to the people in it, rather than adapting people to the world.

The major downside of the social model of disability is that in many cases, it ignores very real impairments that do affect people’s lives and treats bodily difference as irrelevant. Even if every set of stairs had a ramp beside it, a person in a wheelchair still cannot walk, though they will have the same access to places that people who are able to walk do. This difference matters to many disabled people, and acknowledgement or mourning of that does not mean that the disabled people in question are not liberated, or are experiencing self-directed ableism.

There are many other models of looking at disability! I may do a write up about that later if people are interested. If you want to do your own research, I would advise understanding the charity model, as it can be easy to slip into and is not a good thing. More positive models to explore are Discrit. Alison Kafer’s political relational model, and the general concepts guiding disability justice.

In Whump

Adding this because I’m in the whump community, and it feels very relevant, so -

It is super tempting to inflict serious injuries on an OC for pain and suffering, and then have them recover very quickly with little to no lasting repercussions. Whump is imaginary, and people should do what they want in their writing, however, I would urge people to think about what messages they’re sending with these fast, flawless recoveries.

For instance: What fears do your whumpees have around acquiring disabilities? How does your whumper feel about their target acquiring disabilities? What are your caregiver’s goal’s in helping your whumpee, and what do they believe that “recovery” means?

What About the Idea of Cure?

The idea of cure is deeply complicated, deeply political, and ultimately, deeply personal. Everyone’s perspective on cure is different. For some people, being cured of their disability is a positive thing. For others, it constitutes an erasure of their identity and community.

For some, cures are not possible in their lifetime, or maybe ever. This can be a painful idea or a reassuring one.

Some communities more than others have a majority opinion about the idea of being cured. Most people know that Autistic people reject the idea of being cured, or even the idea that there is something to “cure.” Deaf communities tend to feel similarly. On the other hand, people with cancer, Alzheimer’s, cystic fibrosis, or degenerative muscular diseases may welcome the idea of being cured and the progress being made to cure them.

Some ideas of “cure” center on aborting fetuses that present with the disability in question. This is massively controversial, deeply painful for some, and personal to all. Some communities have public stances condemning the practice of aborting affected fetuses. Notably, this includes the Down Syndrome community and Dwarf community.

What Does This Mean For You And Your Writing?

As I have hopefully made clear, I am not in the business of telling people what to write. Many disabled people feel that it is not appropriate to ever write stories in which disabled characters are cured. My feelings are more complicated than that, but I won’t say that those people are wrong. I also won’t say that they’re right.

The following are some ways to think about disability and cure that might help deepen your characters. I am not commanding anyone to do anything; you can write whatever you want. Hopefully you find this interesting and very hopefully you find it helpful.

If you are writing a story in which a disabled person is not cured: Think about what that really means for them in terms of impact on identity, ability, and their life more broadly. How does their community react to the decision to avoid, or the lack of, medical solutions?

If you are writing a story in which a disabled person is cured: Think about your motivations for writing this particular story. How does this cure take place, and how does the character feel about it? What impact does the loss of their disability have on their life? How would a real-life person with that disability feel, reading your story?

Lastly, if you are writing about a diagnosis and the idea of cure comes up, please do some research into how that community feels about cures/medical intervention. Individuals in your writing may have different feelings about cure than their real life community, but it is worth thinking about why that would be.

If you are writing about a diagnosis and the idea of aborting affected fetuses comes up, please do some research into how that community feels about it. Please also understand that whatever your intentions, what you are writing about is a form of eugenics. 

I promise you that real life opinions exist about all of these things and all of these diagnoses, and I promise you that these opinions are valuable and worth reading. Please think about what you are saying about those communities when you write.

Thank you so much for reading! If there’s something else you’re wondering about, or would like to see, please hit me up! If you want to talk about something in this post, please also hit me up! I am not infallible, nor is everything I’ve written an objective fact. I’m doing my best, and always happy to get feedback. Happy writing!

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Chapter 6 Part 1

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. JP SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Mai: "So, this Kicho who is here now is..."

Sasuke: "I don't know all the details, but I guess he was affected by the distortion of history."

Sasuke: "That means he was originally a different person who never existed."

Mai: "Isn't that impossible?"

(How can one person's existence change like that?)

Sasuke: "I can't say it's impossible. There's always the unexpected."

Sasuke: "Have you noticed anything unusual around you since the wormhole stopped appearing?"

Mai: "Unusual?"

Mai: “Oh, after the attack on Azuchi Castle, the book I brought from the future turned weird.”

Mai: “It was a travel guide, which had some historical info in it, but right now, most of the pages are blank.”

Mai: “It was as if the future had disappeared.”

Sasuke: “I see. That would explain why I can no longer observe wormholes.”

Sasuke: “Then, to return to our original time, we first have to deal with the distortion.”

Knock, knock.

Mai: "-----!"

Subordinate's voice: "Have you finished carrying the package?"

Sasuke: "Ah, yes. Safely."

Subordinate's voice: "I see. Then I'll walk you to the door."

(Looks like he's on the lookout.)

When I blinked at him, Sasuke immediately understood and replied cheerfully while quickly writing something on a piece of paper he had taken out of his pocket.

Sasuke: "Thank you very much."

Sasuke: "Well then, miss, I'm leaving. I look forward to working with you again."

Mai: "Yes, it's my pleasure."

I accepted the note he laid on the table, and just as I crumpled it up to hide it in my hand, the door opened.

Kicho's subordinate: "This way, please."

Sasuke: "Yes."

I looked over at Sasuke, resisting the urge to wave my hand.

After confirming the two had left, I gently unfolded the crumpled-up paper.

"Anyway, there may be some serious things ahead. I'll come back to you again. Until then, please take care."

(Serious things, huh?)

(I finally have a chance to get in touch with Mitsuhide, thanks to Sasuke, but there are more mysteries to solve.)

That rainy night, I finally felt grounded, and my vague sense of self took shape when Kicho told me I should just live as me no matter what.

(Is there anything in this world that didn't exist originally?)

(If so, when everything goes back to the way it was, will it be as if it never existed again?)

Kicho: "That's all for today."

Mai: "Okay.”

Kicho: "............"

Mai: "What is it?"

Kicho: "That's what I want to ask. What happened while I was away?"

Mai: "Eh, is something wrong with me?"

Kicho: "You have dark circles under your eyes. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

(As expected, he's sharp as a tack.)

Mai: "My sewing tools and fabrics arrived the other day, and I got caught up in making clothes."

Mai: "I know staying up late is not good, so I'll be careful."

Kicho: "Yeah, it's not worth it if you hurt yourself. It's best to do it in moderation."

(To be honest, I haven't even come up with a design yet because I don't know what to make.)

(I can't talk to him about it, hence the lie.) 

For the past few days since my encounter with Sasuke, I couldn't stop thinking about what I had heard.

I found myself worrying about his every move more than ever and ended up thinking about a lot of things at night.

(In the first place, if there's a historical distortion involved, he may not even be aware of it, and it's probably none of his business.)

Kicho: "By the way, I have one more thing to tell you."

Kicho: "We're going to have a banquet here at the trading post in two weeks to get acquainted with our business partners."

Kicho: "No, I think it would be better to call it a party."

Mai: "I could kind of imagine it. Can I help with the preparations?"

Kicho: "Yeah. You're quick to catch on."

He nodded briefly and took a few papers from his desk drawer.

Kicho: "Here is a summary of what I need."

Kicho: "We don't have much time, so we'll have to split up the work with the others."

Mai: "What about the business meetings?"

Kicho: "I'll head to one tomorrow alone."

(Alone.)

Mai: "Then, we'll be working separately for a while."

Kicho: "Also, I'm not going to have my men watch you 24/7."

Kicho: "As long as you don't make any suspicious movements, there is no need to be so worried."

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "You looked bothered just now. I just thought you were worried about the surveillance."

Mai: "No, it's not that一Oh."

I involuntarily turned around to escape his gaze.

(Was I feeling lonely just now?)

(Nah, there's no way. Maybe he's right. Maybe I was just worried about the surveillance.)

Kicho: "Mai, what's wrong?"

Mai: "N-Nothing!"

Mai: "More importantly, um, I'm gonna get ready for today's work. Excuse me!"

Without making eye contact, I left the room in a hurry.

Mai: "*sigh* That surprised me."

I put my hand on my forehead and took a deep breath.

(Anyway, let's go to work.)

Then, without seeing Kicho much, I began to spend my days running around preparing for the event.

Mai: "Is that the guy?"

Kicho's subordinate: "Probably. It's easy to tell when he's dressed like that."

Mai: "Right. I'll go talk to him then."

(I still get nervous when I'm with other people.)

(Until now, I've mostly been working with Kicho.)

I came to the port today with his men to get the necessary supplies for the party.

Hiding my tense appearance, I hurried over to our business partner, wearing a tall hat.

Mai: "Hello. Um, here, please."

When I handed him the letter that Kicho had written for him, he smiled, nodded, then beckoned me to come over and walk on.

Mai: "They have some stuff over there. Let's go."

Kicho's subordinate: "Yeah."

(I can't believe he's already made all the arrangements.)

(We worked every day and night, so when did he start preparing all this?)

Thinking of him, I looked at the man walking ahead of me.

(Still, it's fun to see all these fancy-looking clothes.)

(I bet the people attending the party will wear something nice, too.)

(I wonder what Kicho plans to wear.)

Mai: "Right!"

Kicho's subordinate: "Is something wrong?"

Mai: "Yes, I've finally decided on the design."

Kicho's subordinate: "Design?"

Mai: "Um, I mean the style of the kimono."

Mai: "Hey, can I ask you for some help?"

That night.

Kicho: "What's the matter with you guys? Why are you in a hurry?"

Kicho's subordinate 1: "Before you return to your room, can I have a moment of your time?"

Kicho's subordinate 2: "It'll only take a moment, so please remain standing."

Kicho's subordinate 3: "Excuse me!"

Kicho: "Hey, what are you suddenly wrapping around me?"

Kicho's subordinate 4: "Don't worry about it. We'll remove it as soon as we finish the measurement."

Kicho's subordinate 2: "This one is complete. How are the others?"

Kicho's subordinate 3: "Done."

Kicho's subordinate 1: "This one is also complete."

Kicho's subordinate 4: "Then I'll take them and report back to Lady Mai tomorrow."

Kicho: "Mai?"

Kicho's subordinate 2: "Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Kicho. We apologize for troubling you."

Kicho’s subordinate 2: "Well, please excuse us!"

Kicho: "Hey, you guys...!"

Before Kicho could call out to them, his subordinates quickly left.

Kicho, who remained there alone, looked at the door of Mai's room at the end of the hallway with a look of dismay.

Kicho: "I didn't expect you to order around my men in just a few days."

Kicho: "What the hell are you up to?"

One week later.

(Yup, it looks pretty good!)

Comparing the design with the finished material, I pulled my sewing kit next to me.

(All I have to do is sew the rest and make adjustments as I go along.)

(I really appreciated their cooperation.)

His men were willing to help me when I asked them to get his measurements for the clothes.

(They weren't as scary as I thought they would be when I talked to them.)

(Just like Kicho.)

(I haven't seen him for about a week, but I hope he's okay.)

I imagined his face and felt a little sad.

(Anyway, I'll do whatever I can to finish this before the party next week.)

(If I do it on my breaks, I'm sure I can finish it.)

Mai: "Crap, it's this late already!?"

Remembering my promise, I rushed out of the room.

Mai: "Thank you for your cooperation. I really appreciate it."

Merchant: "No, this is nothing. Merchants help each other from time to time."

(He's so kind.)

Today, I visited a merchant we met along the way to borrow some supplies for the party at a warehouse near the main street.

Merchant: "The tablewares are on that shelf, and the vases and picture scrolls are over there."

Merchant: "Next is一sorry, there are too many things to keep track of."

Merchant: "The items stored in this warehouse are not particularly meant to be used, so please take them as you like."

Mai: "Okay, thank you very much."

Merchant: "By the way, I heard that Lord Kicho is coming today."

Mai: "He's busy right now, so I'm taking his place."

Merchant: "I see. He really trust you."

Mai: "I don't know about that."

(Sometimes it's because they don't trust you that they keep you around.)

(But I don't think I should say that here.)

Mai: "Don't worry. Even if he's not here, I'll do my best. Huh?"

Before I knew it, something cold touched my neck, and as soon as I looked at it, I saw him holding something shiny.

(A knife!?)

Mai: "Why?"

Merchant: "Sorry, but a businessman needs information to make a profit."

Merchant: "See, I told you before. We need to help each other from time to time."

Mai: "I don't have any information. I'm only一"

Merchant: "Shut up!"

Mai: "............"

I could feel the coldness of the knife as he put more force into it.

(What should I do? Kicho's subordinates aren't here yet.)

The man had a scary glint in his eyes, as if he believed that what he was doing was the right thing, with not the slightest hint of hesitation.

(I don't think I can buy some time.)

(I have to handle this myself!)

I quickly stepped back, put my hand on the shelf, and knocked it down forcefully.

Merchant: "Whoa!"

Crash!

Mai: "I'm Kicho's secretary, but no matter what I am, I will never do what you say!"

Merchant: "Guh, you cheeky little shit! Hey, you guys, come out here right now!"

(Are there more people outside!?)

(Then I can't escape.)

???: "Yeah, I was going to come out even if you didn't tell me."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "It looks like you gave my secretary a great deal of hospitality."

Mai: "Kicho!"

A graceful silhouette holding a pistol emerged against the light shining into the warehouse.

Kicho: "Your buddies outside are in no condition to be of any use anymore."

Kicho: "Get that girl over here now, or I'll shoot you."

Merchant: "Damn it!"

Mai: “Ah!”

He pushed me hard in the back, and before I had time to catch myself, a blinding pain resonated through my entire body as I fell to the ground.

Mai: “Ugh...”

Kicho: “Mai!”

Kicho immediately ran to me while the man rushed to the doorway, smiling wryly at us.

(Don’t tell me he’s...)

Merchant: “Later, losers!”

Mai: “W-Wait!”

I frantically shouted, only to be answered by the sound of a door being closed, followed by the sound of a lock.

(What to do? We’re trapped.)

Mai: “Sorry for causing you trouble.”

Kicho: “............”

Mai: “Kicho?”

I looked up with my hands on the floor and saw him breathing shallow breaths, and his face was so pale.

Mai: “Um, are you okay?”

Kicho: “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Mai: “Yeah, you’re not okay.”

He immediately turned away from me, but I could see a bit of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Mai: "Are you hurt somewhere? Or are you feeling sick from all the work you've been doing the past few days?"

Kicho: "No, none of the above. It's because of this situation."

Kicho: "I have to get out of here as soon as possible."

Kicho frowned as he fell on one knee, clutching his collar.

(His hands are shaking, and his breathing is becoming more frantic.)

(Is there anything I can do?)

Mai: "You stay put. I'll find a way out."

I got up and walked around the warehouse, relying on the little light I could see.

However, there was no place to go in or out except for the closed door.

I tried opening it, but it was locked from the outside.

(I don't think I can do anything about it from here. At least, if someone passes by一no, what if it's a guard?)

Mai: "Kicho, we need to find a way to get out of here."

Just as I turned around, his shadow slid out of its position.

Kicho: ".............."

Mai: "Kicho!"

I ran to him and supported his body as he fell to the floor.

Just listening to the sound of his weak breathing made me feel suffocated.

(What's wrong with him?)

Kicho: "...ive…"

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "I want to live."

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Premium

[ghoulangerlee]

Swiss/Aeon ; The Tickling Fic ; M

last Friday there was a video of Swiss getting tickled by the new bug and I sent that to Kel who responded with: "how long do you think it'll take someone to write that fic?"

Hi, I'm here to write the tickling fic I guess.

I use the name Aeon for the new bug haha. Also I don't normally write ghoul/ghoul so I had to resist the urge to add in the old man (my beloved).

rated: M-ish

contains: tickling (is it Aeon's kink? who knows), masturbation, rutting, spit (very briefly, but it's Swiss???)

-

He doesn't quite know why he did it in the first place, crowding up against Swiss as everyone gathered on stage for their final bows, his hands immediately reaching out and grabbing for Swiss' waist, digging his fingers into the muscle.

He feels Swiss jolt against him, hands going down to grab at his wrists, can hear him laugh and squirm—its all silly, a joke, nothing too serious.

That's what he tells himself when Swiss squeezes his wrists just a little too tight before letting go, batting his hands away as they fall into line to bow, and when they bow as one, he can smell the change in Swiss' scent. Full of post show endorphins, full of something, maybe arousal, wafting off of him.

He opens his mouth to inhale deeply and taste and forgets, at the last second that he keeps his mouth covered, because out of all of them, he's the worst at keeping his glamour up when he's not focusing on it intensely.

And then, they're filing off stage as the noise of the crowd reaches a crescendo, and Aeon's eyes are trained on Swiss' back, and the way the sweat makes his shirt stick between his shoulder blades, revealing the definition and shape so beautifully.

He's still new to the band, and will be new for a while now, but he's figured things out recently, with these ghouls, with Papa, how things work after shows, how it's not strange at all for two or three or more of them to break off and find a secluded corner to release some stress.

Which is why he's pretty sure no one really bats an eyelash when he quickens his pace and crowds against Swiss' back again, hands going to rest on his hips as he nudges him forward and away from the others, eyes glowing bright behind the lenses of his helmet as he seeks out one of the unused rooms.

Swiss is laughing, though not loud, but Aeon can feel the way Swiss seems to vibrate against him, his hands dropping down briefly to pet at where Aeon's hands are visible, dragging his fingertips along the backs of his hands before pulling away.

They'd been dancing around each other recently, the tension building up so much even Papa could sense it, a mildly embarrassing moment, to have his boss just give him a look while waving his hand between the two of them as if saying well? are you going to go for it?

And well, Aeon didn't explicitly need permission, but having it made him feel at least a little bit better about not messing up the natural chemistry or whatever.

There's an unused dressing room, the door cracked open just enough that Aeon can see that it's filled with stuff, probably being used as a storage room now, and the heat and want under his skin reaches its climax—he's shorter than Swiss, no doubt not as strong as Swiss either, but Swiss goes easily as he pushes him into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

And Swiss stands there, relaxed, his head tilted to the side, still facing away from Aeon, as if he's waiting for Aeon to make the first move, waiting to see where this is going.

It drives Aeon a little mad, and he pulls his helmet off and shoves the balaclava down around his neck; his glamour is gone now, keeping his form hidden the last thing on his mind as he crowds against Swiss's back, immediately digging his fingers into Swiss's sides almost a little too harshly. A mimic of what he'd done on stage.

Swiss stumbles a bit, catching himself against a stack of cardboard boxes, his head tilting downwards as he laughs, arching his back against Aeon as the shorter ghoul continues to drag his fingertips along his sides, finding all the sensitive spots.

All the while, Swiss' scent spikes, heavy with arousal as his laughter trails off into a wheezing gasp, a plea of some kind.

Aeon exhales, mouth open as he breathes heavily into the center of Swiss' back, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal until he's light headed with it, scrabbling to tug Swiss's shirt out of his pants so he can touch his skin properly.

Swiss's skin is sticky with sweat against his palms, but he shivers and lets out something close to a whimper when Aeon's nails, sharp and long, drag lightly against his sides.

"You are going to kill me," Swiss wheezes out, finally saying something, his voice loud among the silence, among their heavy breathing.

Aeon doesn't respond to him, just presses his nails a bit harder against Swiss' sides for a moment, before he digs the pads of his fingers into the muscle there, pulling more confused laughter out of Swiss' mouth.

Swiss swears softly, hunching over a bit as Aeon tries to press closer, sinking his teeth into Swiss's shoulder, through his shirt, the only place he can really reach like this.

And Swiss has to grab Aeon's wrist again, squeeze it tightly even as Aeon sort of growls around the mouthful of shirt and muscle he has in his mouth, as if Swiss is trying to pull him away from touching him.

(He's not.)

It continues like this for a bit, Aeon mostly focused on trying to make Swiss laugh, following lines of goosebumps as they pop up all across Swiss's sides and chest, his fingers insistent, digging in when Swiss gasps out as Swiss holds on tight to his wrist, keeping at least one hand resting on his belly, right at the waistband of his pants.

(Swiss doesn't quite understand where Aeon is going with this, but he's always up for trying something new, and with the way Aeon's pressing into him, hard against the swell of his ass, mouthing at his shoulder through his shirt, Swiss is all on board for whatever this ends up being.)

He hopes, somewhat, that Aeon's intending to get him off and not just tickle him, however arousing this is without any other stimuli. But Swiss is impatient on the worst days and slightly less impatient on the best, so with his free hand he does his best to tear open the lacings on his pants and get them open just enough to relieve some of the pressure there.

It's as if the promise of skin is enough for Aeon to be bolder in his touch, wiggling free of Swiss' grip on his wrist, his fingers inch below the waistband, into the open vee of his pants and Aeon exhales as his fingertips make contact with the wiry hair at the base of Swiss' dick.

"You're going to have to touch yourself," he manages to get out after a few moments, words heavy in his mouth as his tongue clumsily works through them, his fangs feel too big for his mouth like this, "Can't." He presses the tips of his claws into the hair, hearing Swiss exhale sharply, his scent growing heavier with arousal and Aeon growls a little, "Not now," he mumbles, a whine catching at the end.

Swiss laughs a little, files away Aeon's not quite denial for later when he has more time to think about Aeon's claws near his dick and the implications of that.

Instead, be pushes Aeon's hand away and mumbles under his breath as he shimmies his pants down just enough to free himself.

Aeon's hands are back on his sides, his fingers poking and prodding at muscle and fat alike, dragging his nails along the skin in a way that has Swiss shivering, leaning his weight back into Aeon's solid body.

The first few strokes of his own hand are dry and a bit unpleasant, so he pulls away, lifting his arm and reaching back behind him to nudge his knuckles against Aeon's horns.

He makes a confused sort of sound, drunk on the scent of Swiss' arousal, lifts his head and looks at Swiss' hand, "Hm?"

Swiss rolls his eyes, feels a bit fond for the guy, "Spit," he says, wiggling his fingers a bit, "Since you won't get me off because you can't keep your shit under control," he teases, "I'm not jerkin' myself dry."

Aeon huffs, leaning up to nip at Swiss' fingers momentarily before he spits into his palm, a little off center and wet.

"Satanas," Swiss mumbles, and then he's wrapping his hand around himself again, swearing under his breath as Aeon drags his claws down his sides, ruts against him from behind. "Oh, you wanna get off too, now?" He asks, just to be difficult, "Can't even touch me but you want something from me anyway, huh?"

Aeon growls lowly at that, sinks his teeth into Swiss' shoulder again as if he's trying to get the other ghoul to behave, his fingertips press almost cruelly into muscle and fat, drawing a choked sounding laugh from the taller ghoul as he jolts backwards into Aeon.

In his hazy mind, Swiss also files this away for later as well, wonders if he could push Aeon's buttons even more to get him to really put Swiss in his place.

(He's thinking, somewhat distantly, about Aeon's teeth in the back of his neck while he fucks him, claws digging into his sides as he holds him in place.)

Aeon tries to formulate words, a response, something, but all that's going through his mind is rutrutrut and the scent and taste of Swiss' arousal as it grows with each pass of his fingers on his most sensitive spots, tickling his ribs and making Swiss bend over, holding himself up against the boxes he'd stumbled into while he furiously jerks himself off with the hand not keeping him steady.

Aeon growls low in his throat when he feels about to burst, too far gone to worry about the consequences of coming in his pants, just sinks his teeth into Swiss again, digs his fingers in hard and faster, making Swiss breathless and gasp for air, lightheaded with the pleasure-pain.

And then, Swiss yells, no doubt alerting someone, anyone of where they are and what they're doing, shaking as he comes with Aeon's name on the tip of his tongue.

A low whine catches in Aeon's throat as Swiss suddenly grabs his hands and jerks them away from his sides, breaking the skin contact—his grip on his wrists is tight, almost too tight, but Aeon buries his face into Swiss' shirt and ruts against him until he's stifling his own noises as he comes, gasping wetly against Swiss' shoulder.

Aeon is almost distantly aware of Swiss pulling away, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he'd somehow forced this on Swiss, but those fears are soon squashed as Swiss gathers him into his arms, muttering something under his breath about overeager ghouls wearing themselves out.

In the time it'd taken for him to turn around, Swiss had pulled his helmet off and placed it down on the stack of boxes, and Aeon makes a pleased little noise when he's able to easily bury his face in Swiss' throat, breathing him in.

Sated. Warm. Pleased.

"You're a little demon," Swiss says softly, combing his fingers through Aeon's unruly hair, but he sounds fond, "I bet my shoulder looks like it's been mauled by a monster." He murmurs with a laugh. "You're a feisty little fella, aren't you?" He asks, though it's rhetorical, the little fella really makes something in Aeon's gut burn.

He whines, pawing at Swiss' sides now that the other ghoul had righted his shirt, "Shh," he mumbles, trying to get his tongue to cooperate properly.

Swiss laughs and shakes his head, lets Aeon rest against him for another minute longer before he pulls away, "Alright, well, as much as I'd love to stay here with you, we really need to find the others. The bus will probably leave soon. Don't want to be stranded."

Aeon does not whine at that even though he wants to, he steps back and pulls himself together as much as he can, pulls his balaclava back up over half of his face and finds his helmet, upside down, on the floor.

There is however, a stain on the front of his pants, and though he knows it's not really proper, he doesn't feel shame for it. Thinks about how this is really his first time making a move with anyone in the band, and how long he'd manage to keep himself under control, he's not going to feel bad about it. Not this.

"Hey, Bug," Swiss says, drawing him from his thoughts, his own helmet on now, coming to stand by Aeon, "My bunk tonight?" He asks, somewhat casual as he rests his hand on Aeon's side, his palm wide and warm through both of his shirts.

Aeon shivers, feels the way Swiss' grip tightens a bit, can see the sharpness of his teeth when he grins, "Yeah, yeah," he says, a little bit too eager.

[bardic-perdita]

4, 6, and 10 for durge creator asks?

I realised while typing this that I needed some visuals, so apologies in advance for the badly edited drawings XD

How did Durge come to be? Why them? Was it a vibe you tried to capture or a specific visual you wanted to represent? Did you borrow them from previous works or were they handcrafted for this story you have in mind?

For this question, I'll talk about both Zeke and Shrike (as you had asked about Zeke before)

Zeke was a demon hunter OC from a previous fandom with his own unique lore that I adapted for BG3. He went from being a demon hunter that used a weapon imbued with the soul of a demon (called Caedes) to being a Warlock/Ranger that signed away his soul to a devil (called Caedes) so he could help the devil that raised him. He was created as a durge for in-game shenanigans, but as he was born in the Moonshae Isles it had some interesting lore implications— namely a devil adopting the spawn of Bhaal as his own son to fight the gods. His whole backstory is completely non-canon and is a bit of fun between me and my buddy. He's affectionately referred to as 'silly durge' or 'our dumb son', which just makes him dating Gale much more entertaining.

Shrike is my serious attempt at playing a resist durge. I was curious about how a paladin trying to resist their urge would work, whether their oath or urge would prove strongest. It was also decided early on that they would romance Astarion. Most of their history remained pretty vague until I played more of the game, so their pre-tadpole story only really developed fairly recently. Not that Shrike remembers any of it.

Personality or looks, what came to you easier?

Always looks first. I knew I wanted an androgynous tiefling with an autumnal colour palette, mainly to contrast Breoch's cool-toned/wintery palette. Shrike's personality is much less developed than Breoch's, namely because I haven't had them occupying my brain for as long, so I'm only now reaching a point where I feel I could write fic for them. I find Shrike far easier to draw how I want them than write for them in character.

Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them?

Shrike has a few subtle hints about their story in their design (which I will need to make clearer when I finally draw their ref sheet).

The most obvious feature is their eyes: they originally had two flaming red (dragonborn) eyes, but lost one to Volo. It's surprising how much the blue eye softens their face— much like how their personality softened when they were no longer Bhaal's chosen.

They also have red spikes along their tail, similar to the spines on the Slayer form. Plus it's a subtle indicator that they're not a 'true tiefling'

Their horns are tipped with red, blood-stained some might say, and the markings on their face appear more like veins or flowing blood that moves and changes similar to Orin's skin. At least, that's my excuse for drawing them differently every time

Finally, I deliberately didn't give them any scars apart from the one from Volo. They usually fight in plate armour meaning that injuries are rare and, as they have Lay on Hands, they would usually heal a wound before it scars.

Now at risk of making a long post even longer, here's a bonus Bhaal's Chosen Shrike in their Bhaalist plate armour: