#but yes if u like it and want more its on ao3 and its a slow burnnnn!

[fizzpixie]

Noncommittal Levi Ackerman x Reader Smut There are adult themes! MDNI :)!

note: this was intended to be a one-shot, however I decided to continue it as a series on my ao3 account! https://archiveofourown.org/users/noir_or_never/works (first chapter is cross-posted) word count: 8,111

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"How about the price?"

The man inquiring you took a drawn, deep drag from a parejo cigar, inconsiderately puffing fat rings of smoke into your face. The acrid clouds wafted over your nose, making you grimace. His chapped lips tugged upwards into a wolfish, predatory grin, already fantasizing about what his intentions were with his purchase.

"Depends on the service." You stated plainly, an overt air of disinterest in your tone while addressing the man's queries. You observed how his face and hands were caked with a film of dirt as he rolled the lit cigar between his swollen fingers.

"Services? Plural?" He chuckled gruffly, releasing curls of smoke from his toothy maw.

You didn't respond. Rather, you reached inside your clutch and fished out a small piece of paper that resembled that of a business card. On it was scrawled with a variety of available services - a menu. You handed it to him. He inspected it carefully, almost as if he couldn't read and was trying to decode what the tiny script said. He frowned.

"Fifty dollars? Seems a little steep for twenty minutes."

"Of full service?" You scoffed. Fifty measly dollars for unadulterated access to your body for what would feel like eternity to you was quite cheap in reality. But, lamentably, the underground required that all goods and services were marked down. Not by legislation, but by the law of nature. Surviving required shooting low to improve the odds of clients spending money that they themselves had little to spare. Your arms were crossed begrudgingly over your chest as you offered him an insincere half-smile.

"Above ground it would be three hundred for fifteen minutes." Your words were heavy but you tried to play coy, feigning your irritability, offended that he would audaciously criticize a price that you reluctantly placed on your own body. The man returned you with a scowl.

"Well Miss, we aren't above ground, are we?" He followed his rebuttal with a deep suck from his cigar. He peered you up and down, his unwelcoming eyes drawing particularly close attention to your legs. You presented yourself in a short pleated slip dress that fell flatly against your frame and was deep maroon in color. Point-toe black stilettos were your choice of shoes when you were on the clock. In your right hand was a silver pleather clutch purse, and in your left, the butt of a cigarette that you had already smoked, hanging sad and loose in between your fingers. With his free hand he fished into his pilling trench coat pockets and pulled out a scrunched wad of cash, flitting through the bills until he counted out fifty dollars and handed it to you.

"No, I guess we're not." You accepted the money and stared at it blankly with resentment.

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The man was long gone, but your weary body was persistent that it lay in the dirtied and balled up sheets stained with sweat and filth. You glanced at the clock. Your shift was not over. Your gaze then fell to the crumpled up bills that you left on the night stand, your heart filling with disdain. One more man and your shift would theoretically be over, depending on what he wanted and how long it - or he - took. The room was eerily silent apart from the faint, dull ticking of the clock. The second hand clicked in melodic time and created an ominous ambience. However, the rhythmic squeaks, the creaking and cracking of the bed from moments earlier haunted you and your body recoiled in disgust at the recent memory.

Working at a brothel in the underground was not a job for the faint of heart. It took a significant amount of resilience and desperation to forfeit yourself over to such a callous industry. Apart from the complete violation of your body and your mental integrity, every single person you met was unremarkable. Selling your body to such menial men felt like your worth was contingent to theirs, and in your eyes, these men were worthless. Nothing but greedy, gluttonous pigs who were slaves to their salacious desires, reducing them to that of a mindless animal. But someday, maybe someday soon, you were going to apply for residency and purchase a ticket that would allow you access to the stairs where you could ascend up and out of the underground and into the outside world. The thought of feeling the welcoming warmth of sunshine on your pale, malnourished skin for the very first time, the thought of eating real food that wasn't just the crumbs that trickled down the cracks from the wealthy, the thought of tasting freedom - or, at least, the closest version of freedom one could feel living within confined walls - fueled a desire that could not be quelled. You were going to escape this life, by any means possible.

The reveries of your aspirations were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The house mom poked her head in.

"We're about to do another display soon. Please make yourself decent." She briefed before closing the door again and left you to yourself. You slowly sat up, a little sore from earlier, and reached for your forgotten clothes before grabbing the cash on the nightstand and shoving it into your clutch. Heedlessly, you slipped on your heels and took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you were presentable enough, and then you sauntered out the door, leaving the linens dirtied by your sins and regrets behind for the house mom to take care of.

You emerged from the hallway into the common corridor where stood a cluster of pin-up girls wearing revealing, degrading garments. The ages of these women ranged from teenagers to middle aged, and even one elderly. They were passively talking amongst themselves, waiting for the dreaded cue that signaled them to shamelessly parade themselves on stage. You joined the women silently, not bothering to make conversation until the word was called. Shortly following your arrival was a brief introduction from the brothel's pimp. He then said the word, and the group of women including yourself marched up onto the raised platform that was positioned towards the end of the room. The space was clamoring with expectant men. The vast majority of them were unkempt. However, there were a handful of conspicuously wealthy men littered here and there amongst the throng. It wasn't uncommon for men from above ground to venture down to link up with prostitutes. Many did so to have affairs, and to avoid running the risk of bumping into people that they would otherwise know in their personal lives. Doing so allowed them the comfort and luxury of a low profile. The thought was abhorrent, to think of all of the wives unbeknownst to their husband's deceitful nature. As the women began lining up, the men released a collective howl. All the women mustered a performative smile with eyes that were much more sad and honest about their true feelings, but you couldn't help rolling your eyes at their crude reactions. Like clockwork, you and the other women began to waltz around in a circle to properly display the entirety of your figures.

As you aversely flaunted in time, a cloaked silhouette caught your attention through your periphery. When you rounded the corner bringing you back to the face of the crowd you made eye contact with whoever it was that was staring you down intently. You fought the urge to look away due to the intensity of his gaze. Confidently, you maintained eye contact, and returned his stare, both of your eyes following each other for the entire perimeter of your walk up until you rounded the circle again and faced away from him. You quickly disregarded your stare-down with the man and proceeded with your composed flow, counting in your head each step you took to take your mind off the eyes undressing you. Before long, all of you dismounted the platform and allowed the men to step forward with their various inquires. To your surprise, for the first time in a while, nobody approached you. The cloaked figure had disappeared in the bustling crowd. Simultaneously you were relieved, yet disappointed. You really wanted to make some more money before the night was over, but you were emotionally and physically drained. About half of the women initiated their scripted small talk with their potential clients while you remained unbothered. You slinked into the corner of the room with an unreserved table and retrieved a cigarette from your clutch, flicking a match ablaze and touching the flame to the tip. The fire flitted for a moment before catching the tobacco leaves, and you took a long drag. You scanned the room, uninterested, as you watched a couple of girls start to walk away with their new clients and disappear behind the cigarette smoke-stained curtain that covered the hallway to the bedrooms. You sighed, taking another drag. You took a moment to observe the space. The main corridor was entirely wooden, with red-rusted lanterns being the only meaningful sources of light that hung from splintered beams supporting low ceilings. The center tables were tall and standing with no chairs, dressed with deep purple satin table cloths soiled with alcohol spatters and cigarette ashes. They were accented with white ornate porcelain ash trays as center pieces, the nicest things decorating the space. Matching purple drapes were tied around the proscenium arch of the stage where you had just retired from. In addition to the standing tables, there were smaller, sitting tables hugging the walls of either side of the room.

Idle moments passed and the corridor began to clear out, besides the men who loitered to chatter amongst themselves. Thank god. It was starting to get stuffy and the mixed stench of drunk breath and sex was growing more and more overwhelming. As you aimlessly watched the unclaimed women scamper around desperately trying to convince the remaining men to spend time with them, the same hooded man that you had noticed earlier approached you. You hadn't caught on to his pursuit until he sat squarely across from you. Your attention diverted to him. He remained silent as he took his seat.

"Hi there." You finally chimed after some awkward moments of silence. The man still said nothing.

"My name is (y/n). First time here?" That was typically your first line whenever introducing yourself to an unfamiliar customer. Half of the time, it actually was their first experience at your brothel. The other half of the time it was a regular. Not necessarily your regular, but it gave you a good gauge of his history within your industry and if you should be careful of him and potential diseases. You tried to drum up a conversation and sat up a little bit more to create the illusion through your body language that you were interested in having conversation.

"No. But not because I've ever received a service here." He finally said, with an apathetic flatness to his voice. He seemed as equally uninterested in being there as you were. Atypical for most men that came around, who were rather eager to get their night going. You were impartial to whether a man wanted to cut to the chase or if he wanted to draw out the much desired company with a conversation. This man didn't seem entertained with either idea, considering he wasn't very talkative. This perplexed you; then realization struck you. He was one of those guys that watched the girls display themselves for free whilst never having to spend a dime for his sexual satisfaction, a broke voyeur.

You chuckled a little and sucked on your teeth while sneering, "You wouldn't be the first freeloader to come in just to gawk for free and then leave." You said curtly and rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Your attention turned back to the women you were observing earlier. This conversation was over to you. One of the girls started arguing with a burly man about her prices.

"An attitude like that would kill the erection of any man. No wonder you're sitting here alone." The line of the man's lips were straight as he spoke. Your face twisted at his response, turning back to face the man. Your cigarette was almost out.

"It's actually quite easy for me to get clients." You boasted, your ego a little hurt by his comment. Rejection was frequent. At first it didn't bother you, but multiple declinations accumulated like bricks on your chest and bruised your self-esteem. In reality you knew it didn't necessarily have to do with how you looked. Many of these men were just flat broke. And having a preference wasn't a crime, either.

"Tsk. Considering men will fuck anything, that's not exactly a metric you should use to measure your pride."

"It's not," you huffed, "I'm just saying I'm good at my job."

"Clearly."

"What's your fucking deal." You whipped out another cigarette and sparked it up quickly, growing more frustrated with the scornful man insistent on pestering you.

"Did I strike a nerve?" His monotonous voice maintained his unreadability. The smoke wanned from your lips as you examined him. It was hard to completely distinguish his look with the level of lighting in the room and his choice of clothing. From what you could tell, he didn't appear to be old, but he didn't look young either. One skill that this job allowed you to hone was your ability to get a swift read on men within the first minute of interacting. However, you felt stumped. This was the first time in a while where you couldn't accurately profile someone with confidence. You resorted to examining his attire. He wore a hooded dark beige trench coat that was buttoned all the way up to conceal whatever else he was wearing underneath. He didn't appear to be from the underground, but you couldn't bank on that.

"Look," you started, tapping your cigarette above the ash try before returning it to your lips, "if you're interested in a service, I have options. You're assumably here for one thing. I'm here for one thing. I don't really think we need to discuss much else. But if you're just here to be a voyeur, I'm not the girl to be looking at." As you spoke you grabbed the same business card you had given to the previous man earlier.

"I don't need to see that." He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

"How else are you supposed to know the services and their prices? If you're not interested that's fine, but if not please don't waste my time."

He clicked his tongue. "Because you obviously have much better things to do. Or should I say, people." Your stomach sank with unease at his crude commentary and uncouth demeanor. You were beginning to think he just came in to ridicule a poor girl for his own twisted amusement. You should add that as one of your services, you thought to yourself, enough men are probably into that and you might as well get paid for it. You chased your nervousness with another cigarette puff, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked in the smoke.

"You can talk to the others if you'd prefer," he motioned around the room, "I'm sure you could fuck any of them for a quick buck." You scanned the room at the remainder of the men who loitered around. All of them looked admittedly older, and dirtier. You groaned.

"You can talk to any of the other women as well." You suggested plainly. At this point, you weren't very keen on entertaining him any longer. It was probably lost money, but you were willing to miss out if it brought the uncomfortable conversation to a close.

"I chose to talk to you for a reason."

"Then why pick me?" Your question was not returned with an answer. He only maintained his persistent, unnerving stare. You both sat in silence for a bit longer. He was the one to finally break it.

"I will give you two thousand. But I want you to shut up and stop asking questions. Go to room 9. And I want you to be naked when I get in there," Your eyes widened at his words. Two thousand dollars? Two zero zero zero? That was the equivalent to four to eight weeks worth of work. Income was inconsistent in this line of business. Some weeks, clients only shelled out for the cheapest forms of physical intimacy. A full blown fuck came around if you were lucky yet also deeply misfortuned. "Also, put that cigarette out. Smoking is fucking gross. I don't need you tasting like ash."

With reluctance, you smothered the tip of your half smoked cigarette into the ash try, snuffing the glowing cherry until it died out. "I require payment up front." You associated prices like that with men who scammed women like you. You needed proof.

"Half now. Half later." His response held an air of frustration.

You nodded, and he unfastened the first few buttons of his coat to reach into the interior pocket. With discretion he revealed neatly folded bills. You held your hand out eagerly and watched in awe as he placed the cash into your palm. You stared at it for a good while, then proceeded to count back the cash to confirm he really did give you half, baffled at the sheer quantity of it. The man's iron stare contorted to a puzzled look.

"What's with the buffering? Get going." He barked impatiently.

"Yes. Right." You rose to your feet and moved with haste towards the curtain, your heels clicking on the dry wood as you disappeared behind it.

Moments passed, and you were poised on the freshly made bed with stick-straight posture, your body facing the door and your hands placed delicately, deliberately on your knees. You had been sitting erect for awhile, anxious and impatient for your newest client to arrive, and more importantly, for the rest of the money to find its way into your cob-webbed pocket. It felt awkward to be stationed so formally whilst completely nude, but it felt even stranger to lay casually as if anticipating a familiar friend. You wanted him to think you were proper. He had to have been someone from above ground.

You'd never been this nervous for a client before. Copulating with someone possessing so much wealth had you feeling like you'd need to put on a grandeur show to please someone of his status. I mean, what if he asked for his money back? Or decided he wasn't going to give you the other half? Your eyes darted to the clock - almost fifteen agonizing minutes had passed and he still hadn't shown up. Its fateful tick grew louder, echoing in your head as it bounced off the walls of the dark room. You wouldn't be completely devastated if he bailed, knowing you made a cool one thousand dollars without having to provide any services at all. A fleeting thought dawned on you that you could take a dash, run for it with what you've made. But unhappy and resentful clients could report these instances to the house mom or pimp, which would wind you up in grueling punishment. Or you'd lose your job. In the midst of your mulling, the door let out a rasp groan as it was slowly pushed open. The man slipped in and shut the door behind him followed by a hushed ker-chunk of the lock clicking into place. In the darkness, he stood idly, staring at you for a moment without uttering a word. He seemed to like doing that, standing quietly and staring. A creeping sensation tingled up your spine at his silent entry. Words failed you, and he took that as his sign to meander in your direction and sit next to you on the bed. He maintained ample space between the two of you, perhaps out of courtesy. You kept your head forward, feeling like if you dared to look at his face something bad would happen. You still weren't sure of what he looked like.

"Look at me." He demanded. With slow hands, he withdrew from the anonymity of his hood as it slumped to his shoulders.

You did as you were told and your body remained noticeably stiff as you craned your neck to grant his wish. When you gained the confidence to return his stare, you locked eyes, now for the second time. Finally, you could get a good look at him. Raven hair fell into his face in thin wisps. Around his cool, steel, hollow eyes were delicate lines that suggested he had seen some years. His narrow brows were immortalized into a chronic furrow as if he was always in thought, or always distressed about something. His nose was sharp, upturned, and his cheekbones and chin were pointed and angular. He was quite attractive, and although not necessarily young, pleasantly younger looking than your usual clientele.

"Not bad," he spoke with a soft voice upon getting a good look at you, a complete switch from his reductive tone earlier, "even if your attitude is piss poor." Your nostrils flared, heavily exhaling, your heart beginning to pick up pace rapidly. Your unfamiliar nerves prodded at your chest, even though the expected practice was one you have done dozens of times before. However, there was a nagging idea that this man was unpredictable and wouldn't act in accordance with the men you've worked with in the past.

"You never told me what you wanted." You spoke in almost a whisper, not having intended to sound so hushed.

He did not say anything, but rather, carefully dropped to his knees. He scooted in front of you, lifting his hands and placing his palms on the inside of your knees to part your legs slightly. He stared at what was between them intently. At this point, your heart was erratically thumping, pounding against your already tight chest in a way that you were convinced it would push itself right out of your ribcage and onto your lap. His head inched forward as he placed a gentle, tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. His velvet lips blossomed a shudder up your leg and throughout your whole body, rippling back down until a buzzing sensation pooled in your womb. His thoughtful pecks started to trail up the inside of your thigh, stopping right before meeting the delicate petals of your sex. His reservation of contacting your most sensitive spot caused your stomach to lurch forward as you white-knuckled the sheets on the edge of the mattress, yearning for him to continue. His affable actions caught you off guard, for you expected him to treat you as others did in the past. You gathered that from his unpleasant personality earlier. But you were being proven wrong with each of his movements. Upon reflection, you couldn't recall the last time someone gave you head. His gaze floated to yours to measure your reaction. He could see your eyes were squinted and your lips were parted slightly, sucking in quick, shallow breaths. He seemed satisfied with what he saw, and then, while maintaining eye contact, dipped his head into your crotch and licked a long stripe from the bottom of your hole, in between your folds and stopped at the top at the hood of your clit. An exasperated gasp escaped you at the feeling of his wet tongue splitting your labia, shooting electric shocks up your abdomen. He then started lapping at you, moving his tongue methodically and occasionally stopping to nip at your swollen clit before soothing the sting with a dexterous swirl around the bulb using the tip of his tongue. His head withdrew slightly so he could shoot a thick gob of spit on your pussy before diving back in, engulfing your wet cunt with the warmth of his mouth. His wet muscle thrusted in and out of you between his breaths. You groaned, your right hand instinctually palming the back of his head to keep him in place. His hand abruptly grabbed your wrist, squeezing it with a grip that demonstrated his strength.

"Don't." He muttered in between laps. He selfishly desired full control. You obeyed, yet his hold on your wrist remained as he sucked and kissed you fervently. His free hand slid up your thigh and crept to his tongues location. He withdrew again for a fleeting second to wet his longest digit with his mouth and then teasingly rubbed it against your entrance before slowly slipping it in, then replacing his mouth back onto your now throbbing clit. You mewled in delight and his slow pace began to pick up until he was steadily finger-fucking you whilst sloppily making out with the bundle of nerves that erupted inexplicable pleasure deep within your core. Your head started to get foggy, drunk on the chemical pleasure that flooded your clouded brain. All thoughts were banished and supplanted with primal desires of wanting more and more until you've had all of him.

"Your name," you panted, "I want to you know your name." A craving of his address plagued you - you needed to know what to call him and what to scream when the time finally came for him to fully bed you. He slipped in another finger in response, persistent with his motions until you felt your muscles tightening, a sign that you were on the verge of your relief.

"I'm gunna cum--" The words tumbled out of your mouth as you started to hyperventilate at the beaming sensations lighting you up. At your words, he suddenly removed his fingers and mouth from your aching pussy, a wet glistening string of spit connecting his tongue to your hole. You whined at his evacuation as he rose to his feet. The light of your climax faded away, your body begging in throbs and aches for him to return to his work. That fucker denied you your orgasm, he edged you. However, before you could complain, he released your wrist and with both hands shoved you onto the bed. With haste, he crawled above you and snaked a strong arm around your waist to hoist you from the edge of the bed onto the center of the mattress, and then again, lifting you up just enough to angle you so you were properly laying down with your head in the direction of the headboard. You squeaked at his powerful jerks. Now you were underneath him, and he was kneeling above you with his knees on either side of your thighs. Without thinking you reached for the noticeable bulge constrained by his pants, but he swatted you away.

"Quit." He ordered, and you lowered your hand away and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath and control your trembling. He roughly grappled your jaw causing your eyes to shoot open again. He was glaring down at you, his face stern.

"Keep looking." You nodded breathlessly in compliance. He released his grip on your face, and with pain-staking slowness began unfastening his belt and pants.

"Please let me touch." You pleaded, wanting so badly to be the one to yank the hem of his pants down so you could witness his cock spring free. Never in your entire career had you been so eager for someone to ravish you. You couldn't recall a single time you've actually been horny with a client. Most of the sex you had was painful as your body dried up and tightened at the admittance of a foreign, selfish man. But this time you could feel your pussy bubble and moisten with anticipation.

"Touch me and I stop." His voice was low, and gravelly. The threat made you physically tremble, the thought of being so close to exploding and then ditched entirely was unbearable.

"You're so cruel." He let out one of his breathy scoffs.

"You don't even know." His fingers moved nimbly unzipping his pants, peeling back the flaps of his trousers and exposing his underwear. Before releasing his cock, he shed his coat and top, revealing a hard, chiseled body littered with faint purple-blue scars, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat produced both from the anticipation of you and the mugginess of the room. Then, fucking finally, he pulled down his boxers, letting his cock jump out and bobble up and down until it stood still, firm and tall. Your eyes grew wide in astonishment at his length, girth, and the slight upward curvature. Even after thoughtful prep, you feared that he would split you in half while nestling his cock deep into you.

After finally stripping himself of his pants and underwear fully, he moved his knees, nudging your thighs apart until he was in between your legs. He then leaned over, one hand on the side of your head holding him up while the other gingerly stroked himself. He brought his hand to his face to spit in it, and returned it back to his cock to aid in lubing it along with the precum dribbling from the crown. His face was mere inches from yours, both of you expelling heavy breaths into each others faces.

"Levi," He finally said, "my name is Levi." He aligned his swollen pink tip at the entrance of your aching hole. He slid the tip in between your folds up and down for a moment, swirling the head of his cock around your clit for good measure. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, smothering himself with your hair. His breath was hot on your ear, and he nibbled at the lobe.

"I want you to relax," He cooed as he shifted himself into position, "releaaaaax." As he drew out the word, he slowly advanced his pelvis forward, pushing himself into you with a little effort against the resistance of your walls. A stunted grunt left him as a strained cry left you. He didn't stop until the entirety of his length was burrowed deep up to the hilt of your cavity, almost barely touching your cervix. He remained still as your body adjusted to his size. After fitting himself comfortably inside you, he heaved himself up so he was towering over your trembling frame, now on his knees again while still maintaining his position within you. Each of his hands gripped the outside of your thighs so he could securely hold you and move your body in accordance with his desires. To your surprise, he didn't start plowing into you mindlessly, but instead, slowly and shallowly moved his hips to and fro, giving your body the opportunity to acclimate to his size. His tempo was rhythmic as he slowly gyrated his hips, barely removing contact from your skin. You could feel his cock pulsating, desperate for him to pick up the pace. But despite his own discretion he withheld his desires, practicing upmost discipline. Due to his slow and shallow movements, the heartbeat of his cock was more noticeable against your insides. It was driving you mad.

"More." You begged. He enthusiastically complied, eager and ecstatic that he could advance, and pulled out just a little further only to thrust himself back in. He pumped in and out while keeping his depth relatively restricted, still refraining from using his full length, the buttery friction of his movements along your insides feeling like warm wet silk. The feeling elicited the faintest moan from him. He did this a few more times before you pleaded again.

"More." This time he withdrew substantially more until he was almost entirely out of you, and pushed back in fully. You both moaned in unison. After the first complete thrust, both you and him could sense that your body was ready and eager for him to fuck you vigorously. He began speeding up, bucking his hips back and forth until he was ruthlessly ramming into you. You screamed in absolute pleasure.

"Levi!--" The sound of his name caused him to thrust harder, plunging deep into your aching cunt that was now gushing with juices as he growled vacuously. He fell into you, wrapping his arms underneath you while still maintaining speed, momentum, and force of each of his bucks. You reciprocated his embrace, hugging him as tight as you could while he penetrated you, all thoughtful calculations and movements to the wind. You both sighed heaving breaths of pleasure until he abruptly withdrew himself, picking you up with him and skillfully flipping you onto your hands and knees. He reentered as quickly as he could, not wanting to spend another second outside of you, and resumed his mindless, animalistic fucking from behind. The sounds of bare, wet skin slapping bounced off the walls, your ass rebounded against his hips while his hands harshly gripped your waist, forcing you back and forth onto him. You could sense that familiar feeling from earlier, the one where your lower half was starting to tighten and your body was growing weak. In this position, the curvature of his cock started to unknowingly pound into that sweet spot embedded at the end of your canal, each thrust shooting sparks of pleasure up your back. He let go of your waist and grabbed you by your neck with both hands from behind.

"I'm-I'm gonna cum--" You stammered, choked up by your cries and the now added pressure that wrung your throat. Because he had edged you earlier, you could feel this orgasm coming on much more intensely. Suddenly an overwhelming wave of pleasure exploded within you, blossoming through your body and the satisfaction repeating itself in generous waves as your pussy tightened around his pulsating member. He could feel your internal contractions, and that caused him to thrust even faster and harder than before, which you thought wasn't possible.

"Say my fucking name." He ordered, feeling his own release approaching.

"Oh god, Levi" You moaned, still intoxicated by your release that lingered longer than you'd ever experienced before. You were riding the waves of your high, unable to fully concentrate on his request. His grip on your throat tightened, as if demanding you to say more.

"Fuck, fuck, LEVI--" Your scream choked out pathetically through his fingers vice grip around your esophagus. The sound of your pitiful cries, the cadence of hearing his name quiver from your pretty mouth, the way your pussy clenched around his cock - practically sucking him in, he almost completely lost himself and all sensible judgement as he began climaxing. Just in the nick of time, he had pulled out, rapidly jerking himself to conclusion as he painted your back a creamy white. He heaved, letting out a quiet, pained cry at having to expel himself from your warm insides and being met with the cold air. Yet, he felt his own satisfaction spread heat throughout him. Euphoria left his brain disorderly. He roughly flipped you around again so you were lying on your back and immediately crashed down on top of you, trapping you underneath him, his labored breaths heavy and hard as he chased after them. Your arms felt numb, you felt like all of the blood from your body had rushed down to your core.

You both lied there, motionlessly, trying to reign control of your breaths until you both steadied into quiet, satisfied sighs. He had a moment of reflection as his level-headedness started to return to him. He was alarmed that he had almost succumbed to the urge to cum inside you, pumping you full of his hot seed. He was a man of discipline and self-control. Despite this, he waved it off, just grateful that he mustered through his absentmindedness in time. As he sandwiched you between himself and the mattress, you cautiously brought up a hand to his head, gingerly petting his slightly dampened hair, occasionally scratching the top of his scalp before returning back to a gentle stroke. Instead of swatting you away like you anticipated he accepted your loving gesture. He hummed with content into your neck. You both held each other endearingly, and let time pass.

You peered at the clock for the first time since he had arrived into your room. Both of you had ended up fucking each other for an hour, and thirty more minutes had passed of your after-the-fact embrace in silence. You squirmed underneath him, wiggling free from his weight with immense effort, and without saying a word repositioned yourself so he was behind you. You suggested with your body language that you wanted him to spoon you so you could cradle yourself in his arms once more. He understood what you wordlessly asked for and snaked his strong arms around your shoulders from behind, lacing his arms, hands, and fingers around yours and pulling you close until your naked body was flush against his. You basked in his warm embrace. Now that you finally had your post-nut clarity, you could think straight again.

"So why did you choose me? You said it was for a reason." You cut the silence with a question.

"You didn't look away when we made eye contact. But also, I found you attractive. Not much else." His response was swift, but satisfying. You let your other questions get the best of you now that you had him in a position where he was being responsive.

"Earlier you mentioned that it wasn't your first time here, but you've never received a service. Why is that?" The question had prodded at you the moment he had mentioned it. He honestly didn't seem like the type of guy to gawk at women for free just to leave. Not after the way he just treated you in the bedroom. But if that wasn't the case, then it made no sense for him to ever step foot in the brothel. He didn't say anything at first, but then decided to respond.

"I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled.

"Well, why not? You'll never see me again. You can treat me like a one night confidant," you tried to persuade him, "besides, someone like myself isn't in a position to criticize, yeah?" He didn't say anything for a moment again, and then sat up, prompting you to sit up as well. The look in his eyes suggested he was in deep thought, debating what he was going to say to you.

"My mother used to work here." His voice was low, tired, and there was a flicker of an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Your pupils dilated, bewildered at what you had just heard. You weren't sure what to say, how to respond.

"Oh," You started, choosing your next words carefully, "Then… If you don't mind my asking… Why would you come here?" He lied back down and sighed, you remained sitting up.

"When I was a kid, not very often, but sometimes, she would take me to work with her when she couldn't find my uncle to watch over me while she was gone. I don't remember much of it, which is probably for the better. But what I do remember, the house mom was kind enough to give me a room to myself so I didn't have to see anything happening to the women here. But I could hear everything. And I'll never forget the smell." His nose scrunched at the thought of the tainted past. You mulled over his story, trying to imagine what it must have felt like to be in his shoes. Sounds like a sour childhood. This also meant he lived in the underground growing up. You took note of this information.

"I appreciate the back story but that doesn't really answer my question. What compelled you to revisit such a terrible place?" You prodded. He found this annoying, but your questions were understandable.

"Because I wanted to fuck, but I wanted to fuck someone that I for certain was never going to see again. I will never come back to this place after tonight." This information made your heart sink a little. Although you knew that it was likely you'd never see him again, you hadn't really thought about it until just now.

"What if we were to cross paths in the underground? It's not a big place. Would that upset you?" Your suggestion elicited a scoff out of him.

"I don't live in the underground. Not anymore." Of course.

"What is it that you do above ground? Like, occupation wise? You seem to do well for yourself." You thought back to the money he gave you just hours earlier, and then remembered the remainder of the money he owed you. You weren't too worried about it though.

"I'm a soldier." He said curtly, clearly not too interested in talking about his job or disclosing too much privileged information to you, as you were still a stranger to him. His statement was pretty broad. A soldier could mean anything. You knew at the very least that it was probably apart of the military, but you couldn't have imagined it paid that well. This conjured more questions. But, you could read the room. You didn't ask any further about his work. You lied back down and curled up to him, half spooning as his arm pulled you in closer.

"You're off-putting, but you're an attractive guy and you fuck well and you have money. I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend," you snorted, laughing to yourself lightly, then your eyes widened at the thought that maybe he did have a partner after all and just wrapped you into an adulterous act, "you don't have a girlfriend, right?" He could sense your sudden panic.

"No. I'm not that big of a piece of shit," he started, and then trailed off, "It's just not in my cards." It was apparent to you that he stung himself a little with his own statement.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?" His grip on your body loosened as he turned to face you.

"I'm sorry." You shrunk into yourself, meek under his obvious irritation. After being so gentle and loving with you, he was returning to his cold, reserved demeanor. He groaned, annoyed but felt guilty enough for snapping at you. He decided he would explain himself, something that he does not typically do. But you had made a good point to him, a one-night confidant was really not much different than a one night stand.

"Getting invested in someone emotionally is not in my best interest. I could die any day. And romance is distracting. A split-second decision could cost me or my comrades our lives. It doesn't help that heartbreak is inevitable with romance," This was the longest monologue you've heard from him since meeting. You weren't even sure if he was capable of speaking more than one or two sentences at a time. You listened intently. "If I have a choice to avoid more heartbreak, that is the avenue I will pursue. I need to make the choice I think that I will regret the least. I can't regret someone if I never meet them. But I still have urges. So I hire prostitutes to satisfy my needs whilst remaining distant and removed, romantically," He further explained, "That being said, I don't plan on keeping in touch." His eyes met yours at his final statement. There was a discreet pain behind them, one so subtle that if you blinked you might miss it. You knew that he wasn't pained because he couldn't be yours, but because he couldn't be anyones. You were a symptom of this decision of his. You hypothesized that it wasn't out of lack of interest, but out of self-preservation. You broke your shared gaze, looking down in defeat.

"Yeah, I figured..." His thumb and index finger cradled your chin, perching your head back up to face him. He planted a gentle kiss on your lips but pulled away quickly. You scowled, and out of desperation tried pulling him back in for another, longer kiss. He pushed you back.

"That's enough." He sat up for the final time and retrieved his coat that was lying on the foot of the bed, pulling out what was left of his cash.

"Here's four thousand more. Do yourself a favor and get yourself out of this god-forsaken industry." You gasped, eyes fixated on the money he just offered to you. You glanced up at him, then back at the money, then back at him again, trying to gauge how legitimate he was being.

"I can't accept this. I simply can't. I refuse." Having developed a soft spot for this man, it would feel like robbery to be handed such an insurmountable amount cash after having the best fuck of your life.

"You're a shitty prostitute if you're turning down money." He shoved the money to your chest.

"Levi." Your voice was stern.

"If you don't accept it I'll burn it." He reached for your matches that you had left on the bedside table and skated one across his teeth to ignite a weak flame. With no hesitation he met the flame's tip to a corner of the stack, showing he fully meant what he said.

"Hey! What the fuck!" You snatched the wad out of his hands, sparing the bills from harm minus the corner that had been barely singed. He clicked his tongue, knowing that he got his way yet again.

To your dismay he evacuated himself from your hold and got out of bed. He was slow to put his clothes back on, and you watched him quietly as he redressed. His god-like body was now once again hidden underneath layers of bulky attire. You certainly preferred him naked. After he finished clothing himself, he picked up your skimpy garments that you had left on the floor and made his way to you. You gave him a quizzical look, unsure of what he was doing. He started with your mini dress.

"Lift up your arms." You did, and he helped you weasel your way back into your tight fitted garments, sweat causing sticky resistance as he pulled the fabric down firmly but with care as to not rip any seams. You remembered his cum was still on your back and now gluing your dress to your skin. Then he reached for your panties and knelt down as he held open one leg hole, and then the other, as you pointed your feet and slid them through. He pulled them up, but right before covering you, he left a quick, tender kiss on your pussy, and then hid it away while adjusting your panties so they hugged your body comfortably. Lastly was your shoes. While still on his knees, he grabbed the heel of your foot to lift it and slipped one stiletto on over your toes before securing it onto the heel he held and repeated the same steps with the other foot. Never in your life has someone redressed you after sex. And it would probably never happen again. He looked you up and down, and then stood, making his way to the door. Pivoting on his heel, he faced you one final time.

"Take care (Y/N)." And then he disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar. You listened as his heavy foot steps grew fainter and fainter until they were gone completely. You sat in shock, still processing his final acts of kindness and how he simply vanished almost as quickly as he showed up. You resisted the immense urge to chase after him, cling to him and beg him to stay. You wanted to ask him more questions, get to know and understand him more fully. But that is exactly what he didn't want. Your heart started to ache and you held your chest in an attempt to soothe the unfamiliar pain but to no avail. You felt like you had just lost someone close to you. If not that, then you felt like you had lost the opportunity to fall in love, assuming you hadn't already. But his logic made sense. Someone like him could never get too close to anyone. And surely, not to someone the likes of you. Tears pricked at your waterline, but none fell.

"Goodbye, Levi." You whispered to yourself, knowing that he couldn't hear you. The clock started ticking again.

[baeshijima]

sometimes i find it so funny when ppl dont properly tag their works for the reason of “oh, but then others won’t be able to see my work!” or “but if i tag it then it will spoil the twist!” (usually a darker or more… questionable twist, for a lack of better words) and so on. but that… that is literally the whole purpose of tagging? so that the ppl who have the tag(s) filtered because they dont want to see it just. wont.

like dw, ur work will reach ur audience one way or another bc theyre either following u, see it rbed on their dash, or they dont have it filtered; tho that will also have ppl who dont want to see it exposed to it so, for the love of god and the sake of our sanities, pls just list the warnings beforehand like it really isnt such a difficult concept to grasp ???

and bold it, especially if it is in the small text. the whole purpose is for it to be easily visible for the very reason that it can be avoided by readers who dont want to read it. idc if it ruins the aesthetic bc the lack of proper tagging ruins my already declining sanity :]

[suffarustuffaru]

🛒

What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

MY BAD it has taken me a little while to get to every fic writer question ive been asked pfft but i appreciate all of them and theyre really fun to answer :o and alright ok common things—character psychology is a big thing in all of my work :o aa every time i write a characters pov i try to do at least some research into their personality, backstory, etc etc bc my writing is almost always like?? character study type things?? i Really like delving deep into how characters think!!! :o so a lot of my works are like. you Will hear almost every thought in their head HAH. ive been told i have a very recognizable writing style widndnd but i do try to switch up internal dialogue at least a little bit depending on the pov character. i dont know how effective i am at that but i try HAH plus i think its fun trying to capture how someone thinks in the same way that youd try to capture how they speak in their dialogue. i think the most obvious example is probably my recent reinhard stuff—i tried to sound more formal with him? even with little kid reinhard i wrote his internal dialogue kind of formally because i figured that Might be able to create that bit of Dissonance that reinhard has as a character, you know? hes uncanny.

and uh because i focus on internal dialogue a lot, by the nature of things i kind of Have To slap the unreliable narrator tag on the vast majority of my fics HAH but unreliable narrators are fun and i love playing with them!! and i think its realistic in the sense that even a character thats very fair and just and honest may still have the wrong information at times or have emotion cloud their judgment or be a little unreliable for those reasons. that and i tend to pick the mentally fucked characters (which is pretty easy with the rezero cast HAH) whenever i write Very detailed internal dialogue so!!! unreliable narration and spirals into madness it is!!! i just really like exploring like. the humanity behind each character and all their nuances <3 and i Love having to squint at internal dialogue and add that up with a characters thoughts and actions and figure out who this person Actually Truly Is Like?? its like a puzzle :o !!

as for themes. i went into this a lot in another fic writer ask thingy but Definitely like. when characters change as a result of shit hitting their fan and/or their own choices and now theyre Different from the person they used to be. they came back wrong so now what are they going to do? how are the people around them going to treat them now? how will they treat the people around them? i just really like going into like. identity crisis… and um…. suffering that triggers massive self searching bc. the character changed in some way in order to survive through it physically and/or mentally. like seeing characters change for the worse and seeing them either try to crawl their way out or they. keep going down. it can be hopeful or very tragic!!! (bc i love hurt/comfort and tragedy a lot ajdnd) and complicated relationships are a huge favorite of mine to tackle. fascinating multi-layered stuff that i want to study under a microscope!!! i like when multiple contradictions exist within a dynamic or like. a character and their journey. the complexity feels very real to me and i find it intriguing :o

i also love queer themes but due to um. some of the toxicity in this fandom i do hesitate to do stuff with that in this fandom but i DO love queer themes its just not in most of my work atm but thatll change eventually 👍 ill at least slip in a little bit every chance i get 👍👍 (i have exactly one fic with queer themes atm wjdnd)

motifs/random imagery i use a lot also!!!! mostly bc i find them cool and fun but. yes theyre there for a reason. in my first pride otto fic i used second person pov and avoided using his name at points to emphasize that hes 1. being dehumanized and 2. hes dehumanizing himself too as a result. i uhh have also used star related things for subaru a lot bc Of Course. butterflies and moths for emisuba things…. economics themed titles for my pride otto multichap…. bugs for general pride if things…. comparing the knights uniform to bird wings in my reinhard and heinkel fic… i like to describe outfits in general too (pride otto vs main ottos outfits, also felix not wearing blue in the 2 seconds of screentime he has in my pride if fics atm wkdndn) etc etc :o

[shigussy]

i spend way too much time procrastinating writing for a bitch with literally limitless ideas🙏🏼

[creamecafe]

hii could u write something for Dae-ho set in the mingle game and its basically just him protecting reader and always keeping them at his side. 🫶🫶🫶

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

Summary: What the request says

Pairing: Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, comfort, pining

Word Count:

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

It's a miracle that you have made it to the third game. You were sure you were going to die in the second game, but thanks to the team you had, you were more than determined to still stay alive

Out of all them, there was one that you kept looking at. Dae-Ho. You couldn't help but find him cute. This certainly wasn't the place to have feelings as you could die before telling him.

It was the same for Dae-Ho, trying to make sure everyone is ok and that the team survives. But it was something with you.

He felt safe with you, and wanted to protect you. Even if it meant giving his life for you.

The announcement for the third game came, you were worried, but wanted it to be over it. Dae-Ho noticed you being anxious and asked if you okay

"Are you okay?"

You stopped zoning out and looked at him with your heart pounding.

"What? Y-yes I'm ok thank you." Nodding trying to reassure yourself.

"I think this might be the last game I play in." You chuckled knowing deep inside you dreaded the idea

"Hey look at me."

You did as he said. "Don't say that, you have us."

He held out your hand to hold it. You looked at it and hesitated putting your hand out but you held it. A tight squeeze was given but not too rough. It was a sign of reassuring.

He gives you a smile and you did too not of full happiness but someone is here to care about you.

All of you guys were called for the game. You got up and stayed close to Dae-Ho. He looked back at you and nodded. You did the same.

It was the same, climbing up those colorful but dreading stairs to the next game. Every minute or two, Dae-Ho made sure you were right behind him.

You finally reached the game and saw a carousel in the middle with horses and so many doors of different bright colors for a Pre-K setting.

"Welcome to your third game." The woman's voice from the previous games you heard came on the speakers.

"The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Turning your head to look at Dae-Ho, he's already looking at you.

You quickly look away not to make the situation worse. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable as well.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging." Jung-bae exclaimed.

"Yeah. Instead of hugging, we go into those rooms" Dae-Ho mentioned.

"If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need." Gi-Hun

And if it's less than that? You thought in your mind

"But what if it's smaller than five? Like three or four

You turned your head to Dae-Ho. It's like he read your mind exactly.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," Young-il nods. "We'll make it out together. Here."

Those words echoing in your mind, there wasn't enough time to doubt if your group would stick with you.

You've seen how quickly people are to turn against each other especially in the Red Light, Green Light.

But you're more than determined to stay alive, just to see Dae-Ho's face every chance you get.

Young-il puts the back side of hand out to form a truce. One by one, everyone is putting their hands on top of each other. You were the last one.

"Y/N. Are you in?" Gi-Hun asks.

Dae-Ho looks at you with worry in his eyes. You had no choice and no knowledge of trusting others in this game, so you put your hand out on top.

Dae-Ho becomes relieved at this.

"One, two, three. Victory at all costs."

Sighing at this with relief, you guys begin to spread out. The carousel is starting to spin

People scream out in fear. Lights go out and the light in the middle where horses out lights ups and music plays.

Children are singing about holding hands and ringing around.

Dae-Ho holds your hand lightly. He grazes your hand with his thumb. You don't look at him, as you fear you'll die doing so.

It suddenly stops. The number is 9. People are running out frantically pairing in groups of 9. Dae-Ho doesn't let go of your hand.

"We need 3 more." You said. Your group ran looking for 3 more.

A old lady, her son and another woman goes up to you guys.

"Are you guys 3?" Young-il asks

"Yes we're." The old lady nods frantically.

"Quickly we got to get into a room" Gi Hun exclaims

Your feet were starting to move, but the grip of Dae-Ho holding your hand made you move even faster.

All of you guys rushed into a room and closed the door. The room was filled with heavy breaths. There was a click on the lock meaning that the room was closed and nobody can get in or out.

Right now, you have never been more grateful to be alive in playing a game

It wasn't long before you heard gunshots, and it was safe to assume it was those who didn't pair up or get into rooms in time.

Now that you're safe, you look at Dae-Ho and he does too.

"Is everyone ok?" Dae-Ho asks

There was a lot of yes. That answer might change throughout the game seeing how long each of us might last.

The door lock clicked and you guys were allowed to come out. There were bodies on the floors and blood splattered. "Take off your mind off those bodies or you'll be one of them" Your mind was telling yourself.

"We got this" Dae-Ho talks to you

"We do" You smiled. Don't know how many smiles it will take to keep going, but you're ready to prove his point.

The game started again and the carousel spins. You hold out to Dae-Ho's hand.

Now the number was 4. Young-il grabs Jung-Bae and goes to find two more people. That's left Gi-Hun, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho and you left.

There was no time to waste. All four you ran to a room and locked yourself in. Gi-Hun was looking around for Young-il. You pulled him back in.

The gunshots came again. The lesser the number, the more likely people will betray each other.

How long this game will last, you don't know. All you know is that you have people here to help you. Even if it's just one person, it makes all the difference.

The doors clicked and it was time for another round. The panic and adrenaline of it all keeps coming back. But Dae-Ho is making sure you're by his side, even if he may die in the game as well.

Six the group was. Dae-Ho said you and him were going to go and find another group. Luckily you did and you managed to still be alive locked in a room.

Now it all came down to the very last game. There were less people than the game started. You wanted to finish this for once and for all. While the carousel was spinning and music playing, you place yourself in movement ready to run and holding Dae-Ho's hand.

"2" The voice said.

It felt like time was going slow once it announced the number. Everybody is rushing to get into a room. Time's running out.

You felt a hand pull you back and you fell to the ground. Dae-Ho heard your scream and saw someone trying to stop you from going into a room. Someone else was already in the room that you guys were planning to go into.

Dae-Ho could go into the room and that would already make it two. But he's made it too far to leave you.

He ran and punched the guy that pushed you. He put you back on your feet and dragged the other guy out. He slammed the door shut and the timer just came to zero. The guy on the other side begs and bangs on the door.

A pink guard shoots him and the noises stop.

"Are you ok?" Dae-Ho rushes to you.

Still shaken at what happened, at the fact you almost died if it wasn't for him to save you, you nodded.

"Yes I am. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence between you too as you were catching your breaths.

The door clicked and you both came out.

"Y/N! Dae-Ho!" Both of your names were being called

Gi-Hun, Young-il, Jung-Bae and Jun-Hee run up to you guys and you all hug each other.

"I'm so glad you guys are ok." Jun-Hee smiles

You're also relieved that everyone else is fine and made it out alive. You could return back to the dorms.

Walking down back the stairs and into the dorms, everyone was mostly silent but some talked.

You ran up and tapped Dae-Ho on the shoulder.

"Hey Dae-Ho?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"You could have gone into the room where the other guy before you dragged him out, why didn't you?"

Dae-Ho took a pause before responding.

"I have lost many people when I was a marine, seen people get killed in front of me. I can't let it happen to you."

He starts to become close to you but not too close.

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll make sure you're fine. That's a promise I tend to keep Y/N."

Those words stuck with you. You could die in the next game, but right here at this moment is a reason to keep going.

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Kang Dae-Ho Masterlist | Join my taglist!

[jamingbenn]

year in review - hockey rpf on ao3

hello!! the annual ao3 year in review had some friends and i thinking - wouldn't it be cool if we had a hockey rpf specific version of that. so i went ahead and collated the data below!!

i start with a broad overview, then dive deeper into the 3 most popular ships this year (with one bonus!)

if any images appear blurry, click on them to expand and they should become clear!

₊˚⊹♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁

before we jump in, some key things to highlight: - CREDIT TO: the webscraping part of my code heavily utilized the ao3 wrapped google colab code, as lovingly created by @kyucultures on twitter, as the main skeleton. i tweaked a couple of things but having it as a reference saved me a LOT of time and effort as a first time web scraper!!! thank you stranger <3 - please do NOT, under ANY circumstances, share any part of this collation on any other website. please do not screenshot or repost to twitter, tiktok, or any other public social platform. thank u!!! T_T - but do feel free to send requests to my inbox! if you want more info on a specific ship, tag, or you have a cool idea or wanna see a correlation between two variables, reach out and i should be able to take a look. if you want to take a deeper dive into a specific trope not mentioned here/chapter count/word counts/fic tags/ship tags/ratings/etc, shoot me an ask!

˚　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

with that all said and done... let's dive into hockey_rpf_2024_wrapped_insanity.ipynb

BIG PICTURE OVERVIEW

i scraped a total of 4266 fanfics that dated themselves as published or finished in the year 2024. of these 4000 odd fanfics, the most popular ships were:

Note: "Minor or Background Relationship(s)" clocked in at #9 with 91 fics, but I removed it as it was always a secondary tag and added no information to the chart. I did not discern between primary ship and secondary ship(s) either!

breaking down the 5 most popular ships over the course of the year, we see:

super interesting to see that HUGE jump for mattdrai in june/july for the stanley cup final. the general lull in the offseason is cool to see as well.

as for the most popular tags in all 2024 hockey rpf fic...

weee like our fluff. and our established relationships. and a little H/C never hurt no one.

i got curious here about which AUs were the most popular, so i filtered down for that. note that i only regex'd for tags that specifically start with "Alternate Universe - ", so A/B/O and some other stuff won't appear here!

idk it was cool to me.

also, here's a quick breakdown of the ratings % for works this year:

and as for the word counts, i pulled up a box plot of the top 20 most popular ships to see how the fic length distribution differed amongst ships:

mattdrai-ers you have some DEDICATION omg. respect

now for the ship by ship break down!!

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#1 MATTDRAI

most popular ship this year. peaked in june/july with the scf. so what do u people like to write about?

fun fun fun. i love that the scf is tagged there like yes actually she is also a main character

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#2 SIDGENO

(my babies) top tags for this ship are:

folks, we are a/b/o fiends and we cannot lie. thank you to all the selfless authors for feeding us good a/b/o fic this year. i hope to join your ranks soon.

(also: MPREG. omega sidney crosby. alpha geno. listen, the people have spoken, and like, i am listening.)

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#3 NICOJACK

top tags!!

it seems nice and cozy over there... room for one more?

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BONUS: JDTZ.

i wasnt gonna plot this but @marcandreyuri asked me if i could take a look and the results are so compelling i must include it. are yall ok. do u need a hug

top tags being h/c, angst, angst, TRADES, pining, open endings... T_T katie said its a "torture vortex" and i must concurr

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BONUS BONUS: ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA

as an a/b/o enthusiast myself i got curious as to what the most popular ships were within that tag. if you want me to take a look about this for any other tag lmk, but for a/b/o, as expected, SID GENO ON TOP BABY!:

thats all for now!!! if you have anything else you are interested in seeing the data for, send me an ask and i'll see if i can get it to ya!

[andcars]

# 𝗢𝗣𝟴𝟭 ─── I WANNA HEAR YOU MASTERLIST⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀AO3

RACE WINNERS HAVE PRIVILEGES. those privileges don't always apply to their partners though. sometimes they have to earn things to get what they want. sometimes they're too fucking bratty to get anything ────── original prompt req.

PROMPTED DIALOGUE . . . # “You want me to beg? I don't think a winner should beg" PROMPTED TAGS . . . # gender neutral reader, submissive oscar piastri, praise kink, cum play ADD. TAGS . . . # light bondage, tied up, edging, mean reader for a bit, open ending WORD COUNT. . . # 1.1k

────── AO3 VERSION

Every Formula 1 win is special. You know that; the fact has settled in quite nicely when you’re dating such a great F1 driver. When Oscar wins for the first time, you know you need to make it special for him. Even if his team doesn’t think so.

Oscar is sat on the bed, hands bound tight with a red rope. The same rope follows from his hands to the rest of his limbs—forming a nice shape around his chest, wrapped around his hips and to his thighs. The rest is for pure aesthetics, and it's been done beautifully.

He's breathless as he's looking at you, cock red, and eyes glaring in need.

"Don't tease me," he grunts, more sounding like a whimper as he throws his head back.

Your hands act innocent as it's wrapped around the tearful cock—it leaks pre-cum with need. He lets out a silent moan as you play with him. Uncaring of how much pleasure you’re really relieving, you tease him as you believe he deserves.

“Fu-u-ucking~...” Oscar’s thighs shake in it's bounds. “Mmph... You're so annoying—"

"Am I?" you ask, smiling down at him. He tries so hard to fight it off but his hips are moving to your hand. Everytime he thrusts his hips, you loosen your grip. "Am I annoying, Oscar?"

"Yes," he hisses, "So annoying. I just want you- fuck."

"Then beg for it—" your hands tighten on his cock, a silent moan got his jaw to drop—"Beg for it, Oscar. I wanna hear you."

Weeks of edging him (and it's been weeks, you refuse to touch him if he doesn't score you a win again after Hungary) has his body moving feverishly. He can't stop shaking. His skin blushes red and dripping with sweat. Your boyfriend tries to keep himself still but you know all he wants is to fuck your hand.

Shaking his head, he says: "No. I w-won a race. Mmph... I don't need to beg."

Fine. "Have it your way."

You immediately pull away from him. His head flickers up to you, watching you as you stand from the bed. He's calling out to you but you're undressing yourself as you take something from the bedside drawer.

"Since my sweet boy doesn't want to co-operate, I guess I'll just have to make use of myself, hm?"

With your underwear thrown to the floor, you pull out some lube and a vibrator. You saw the moment his eyes cloud with lust; he gulped, stopping himself from drooling; his gaze fell to your sex as you position yourself on top of his face; his arms jerk in its restraints as it begged to touch you.

He calls out your name again. You ignore him. Instead, you pour lube on the toy and turn it on—the whirring of it silences Oscar. He watches as you press it against you, he watches as you moan softly at a toy pleasing you instead.

"I wanted to make you feel good tonight, baby," you say, grinding a little on the wand, "but you just don't wanna play with me."

"I do," he says, his bottom lip pouted. "Just... Don't wanna be teased anymore."

"I asked you to beg- fuck." You press it to you a little harder. He opens his mouth as he sees you drip a little. "You won't listen to me. So I guess I'll have to postpone my gift, hm? Make myself feel good instead."

Desire is etched into his expression. With his mouth agape, cheeks pink, and tongue eagerly awaiting for a single drop of your arousal, he's lost needing you.

But you keep your hands to yourself. He's forced to watch you relieve yourself. You know him. He's itching with the need to touch you. A safe word could be on the tip of his tongue but you know that this is the point where he wants to be good for you.

"Please," his voice is small and almost unheard through the loud vibrations. "I want... I want you again please."

You shake your head. "No, Oscar. You're gonna fucking watch me come all over your face before you get even anything."

He whines. "Please..! Just—If you let me go I'll be so good for you. Please..."

Though you want to hold him, use him, make him feel so special for his race win, you hold your promise. Lowering down to his face, he breathes you in and mouths just below your sex. He needs to put his mouth on you, you watch as it gets him so manic. It's getting a bit pathetic honestly.

"You look so good, baby," you say, finally giving your lost boy some attention. "I know that you can be good for me. Wait for me, okay?"

He whines. You tsk and shake your head. "None of that, baby. Be good for me and stick your tongue out—" he does immediately—"good boy. Good boy, Oscar. See? All you needed was... all you needed was to be shut up for a bit."

"I'm sorry, please, I want you so bad—"

"And you'll get me," you tell him. "Stay like that. I'm so fucking close. Stick your tongue out like a good boy and take me."

It's not long until you feel yourself approaching your end. Oscar lays so pliant beneath you. He keeps begging under his breath, just quiet enough to hope you're not listening. He knows when you're near. He's getting more twitchy—panting as if he's the one about to cum.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he moans at your words, "I'm gonna cum, baby. You wanna taste me? You wanna fucking taste it?"

He nods. He's getting dizzy as he tries to push his head up to get more of you—yet you keep pulling away. "Cum on me please," he begs, tongue out and anticipating the taste of you.

The sight drives you fucking mad. With a few strokes of the toy on you, you cum all over his awaiting mouth.

Oscar laps up your release eagerly. Your fingers go down to push some splattered cum from his cheeks and drag it down his lips. He thanks you silently as he licks your fingers. Eyes half open, he treasures your taste.

Your dirty fingers trail down his lips and to his chin. Your release makes a trail down and he's only showing you more of his skin. A laugh leaves you as he practically begs to be painted in your fluids.

"Such a good boy for me," you coo. "You wanna get your treat now?"

He's agreeing so quickly that it makes you wanna frame this moment. The moment when race winner Oscar Piastri is begging for you. You smile. "Okay, it's gonna be a long night, baby."

It's not like he would ask for anything more

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . short oscar piastri fic cuz i was out my entire bday LMAO. anyways, hope anon saw this cuz i </3 am sorry for all these late requests. my next fic is literally a request of a daniel fic during the singapore gp BEFORE it was announced he was leaving... so uh... yeah. mb. anyways, hope ya'll had fun w this cuz i literally edged ya'll too lmao ˎˊ˗ ᝰ. ──── 📨 @Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[awkward-halfhug]

granted | eleventh doctor x reader

summary : you've had your first kiss with the Doctor, but now you're nervous about the changes in your relationship

sequel to permission

(also on my ao3)

0.6k

In the days and months since you kissed the Doctor, since he kissed you back, your relationship undergoes some changes. It has to. You've wanted it to. But still, at first you're nervous.

It's awkward, trying to gauge if you can show your feelings openly now or not. It should be obvious that you can. The hard part should be over. But it isn't clear in your mind. Your nerves complicate things.

For instance, are you dating now? You don't know. You've never had a boyfriend before. And would the Doctor laugh at the idea? Of being your boyfriend at the age of however very old he is at this point? That thought makes you feel small and insignificant. Every time you think about his age and vast experience compared to you, the insecurity starts to creep in.

But when the doubts try to overwhelm you, the Doctor seems to know. Or maybe he doesn't, but he still manages to comfort you. It's, ironically, with things he's been doing all along. Just, slightly different.

He's always touchy, always has been. Quick, over in a blink affection. So quick u might think u imagined it were it not for its frequency. So u have to think about it. And when u do, u see it. It's all the same, mostly. Except now its slower. He's slower about it. Like he's taking his time, savoring the moments. 

He still holds your hand, but now he doesnt let go when the running's done. Now he strokes your thumb with his; slow, slow, torturous. Draws patterns to your palm with his finger. Your hands never fully separating. Clinging like magnets, pinkies interlocked. Swaying gently in the space between you.

Sometimes you mosey through cities, marketplaces, sightseeing. But if his gaze is anything to go by, there must be something better to see on your face. Something better than waterfalls of crystal and purple-pink mountains. Something in your eyes he hadn't seen a million times before. His expression soft. His eyes thinking and concluding something you couldn't guess but still makes you blush regardless.

He still peppers kisses to your head, quick one, two. But then a third, lips pressed to your hairline. He stays, hands cradling your head, drawing you to him. He breathes in your scent, holds it, releases the air slowly, reluctantly. Filling himself with you like helium in a balloon.

He still hugs you to him after a brush with death, but now he doesn't let you go. Not for a long, long time. Like he's afraid to let you go. And he holds you tighter, almost crushed to him. Arms around you like he can protect you from all danger. Like he can ward off death with his body. It feels like maybe he can, sometimes.

And the difference you'd thought might happen, had hoped would happen, does. Still wondering at times if you're allowed to, whenever you want, you kiss him. Enacted with a searching look or bob of the head that can speak without words now. The asking silent but clear. The permission granted in a nod, a shy smile. Hesitant kisses from you. Imploring kisses from him. Exploring kisses from eachother. Kisses for reassurance, seeking and seeking and finding.

They're all little things. And they're all big things. All of it a question asked from one to the other. Feverish or shy, always the same.

Are you mine now?

Always answered, every time, silent words poured into eachother.

Yes, yes, always.

You think maybe you don't have to know if you have a title or not, for now. Think maybe you have something stronger than that to keep you both together. Think when you're more comfortable, more confident, you'll ask him, far too late in the relationship, if you're his girlfriend now. You think he'll laugh at you but you won't mind, because he won't be mean about it. Think maybe it's been obvious this whole time.

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot ♡ and if you have requests or ideas, feel free to let me know in my ask box

[diamjem]

blame the champagne

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!mc

summary: sebastian sallow attends his ex’s engagement party and he is fine.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: angst, alcohol abuse (sort of), marriage is a prison, 19th century high-society, no y/n, sebastian ruins everything he touches

a/n: first fic i’ve ever posted on tumblr pls be kind im jus a girl (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ANYWAYS i wrote this while listening to exile by ts over and over and over again so maybe give that a lil listen while you read if u wanna set the mood. can you tell by the end i was just excited to get it done with lols. also this is really far from my usual writing style (i mainly post on wattpad ik boooo) but here ya go. im well aware of how all of u eat up angst like it’s a happy meal YES THERE WILL BE A PART TWO. if the hyperfixation persists this might even be a longer series BUT god knows how many wips i already have pls have mercy on my poor soul

[ao3] [wattpad]

it was a nice party.

no, really. it was.

sure, there were some things sebastian could’ve done without—the awkwardly stiff ballroom, for one, with its velvet curtains that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe—but on the whole, he couldn’t deny credit where it was due.

the music was stimulating enough to have ballgowns spinning around endlessly on the dancefloor. food, exquisite; hors d'oeuvres that looked more like art than appetizers, but delicious nonetheless. and the decor? a tad too extravagant, maybe, with gold ribbons draped from every chandelier, catching the candlelight in a way that felt more like a royal procession than a social gathering. but who was he to judge? he was certainly drinking enough to blur any such distinctions, and there was more than enough champagne.

so, yeah, it was a really nice party.

well, save for the fact that it’s his ex’s engagement party to some guy from a prestigious pureblood family or whatever. sebastian still couldn't quite remember his name, though he’s pretty sure it starts with the letter h. he read the invitation, the fine lettering that seemed too fancy for its own good, but the moment he’d seen “engagement” paired with her name, his brain had short-circuited. he didn't need nor want the details. it was enough to know that she was moving on—and he, apparently, was not. but that's fine. he’s fine.

sebastian would have preferred to avoid the entire affair, but anne had insisted—no, berated him—into attending. "just be grateful she even thought to invite you to such a special day." she'd demanded.

ominis, bless him, had tried his best to offer some well-meaning, clumsy attempt to soften the blow, but when all was said and done, suggested sebastian defer to anne. there was no doubt (maybe a little) ominis was his best friend but he was also anne’s husband now. and a wife’s word, especially in the sallow family, was the law. infuriating, as if they haven't ganged up on him enough their whole lives.

speaking of those two, where the hell are they? sebastian was already this close to hexing them for dragging him here in the first place—much less leaving him alone in a crowd of polished, tight-lipped strangers. not that he hadn’t been to his fair share of these high-society events. as an established wizard, a decorated auror, top of his division no less, he had his place at these things, his duty even. in fact, somewhere deep down, part of him even liked the glitz and glamour. it was the sort of thing that would make most people feel important, like they were part of something larger, something better.

but this? this wasn’t his crowd at all. not when he had to stand there, watching the one that got away and her decorated hand clutch her husband-to-be’s arm. the sight of it churned something deep in his gut, like a bitter knot that wouldn’t untangle.

alright, maybe it’s time to admit it.

it was not a nice party at all.

the music? too stiff. too classic. she usually liked it loud and roaring. she used to love a ceilidh, for merlin’s sake. the food? too tiny. he could practically see her at the table, scarfing down a full plate before reaching for seconds, her stomach always growing faster than her appetite. the decorations? too gaudy. too excessive. then again, she never had a good eye for interior decor—at least, not according to the proper standards. her idea of decoration had been finding old furniture abandoned in the highlands and somehow hauling it back to their (now just his) flat in london.

salazar, this whole party is wrong. she never even cared for this kind of thing. she would always roll her eyes when he dragged her to some work event, muttering something about she’d much rather be laughing over a pint in the pub with him.

but it wasn’t just the party, was it? not the music or the food or the decorations. it was the fact that none of this felt like her anymore. it felt like she had become something else. something he wasn’t a part of.

sebastian watched her over the rim of his glass as he took a long swig of his drink.

now, the party may be no good, but the champagne? that's another thing. it was crisp, sharp, and cold, slipping down his throat with a tingle that almost made him forget where he was and who he was supposed to be celebrating. almost.

they were standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, where they were entertaining pompous-looking guests with what sebastian could only assume was ostentatious conversation. by they, he meant her and her fiancée (horace? henry?)—who, by the way, is the exact opposite of sebastian, with his raven hair, pale and freckle-free skin, and posture so impeccable that it even made sebastian straighten his own back.

she held out her hand to a lady she was talking to as if to flaunt her ring and sebastian crinkled his nose at the sight. he had to squint, but even from across the room, he could see that blinding diamond on her finger, catching the light like some cruel trick of the shadows. she’d always blabbered about how diamonds were too overrated, how emeralds were the only stones truly worth their weight. he never saw the appeal before, but now he did.

even her own hair wasn’t her. neater than usual, pulled up into that impossibly tight bun. it had always been free before, with that little curl by the side of her neck that always seemed to escape no matter how much she tried to tame it.

and that smile. it was perfect and even like it had been practiced for this very occasion. her real smile was never perfect. it was always a little crooked on the right side and it made her eyes squint into crescents.

pretentious. all of it. most of all, this engagement party. but at least, he had a drink in his hand and a healthy amount of champagne sloshing in it, which, at this point, was enough to blur the sharp edges of his cynicism.

or perhaps it wasn't his cynicism he’s been trying to drown in champagne all night but bitterness. who’s to say, though? certainly not sebastian—his pride would never let him admit that aloud, especially not when he’s supposed to be making merry with the very thing that made him bitter in the first place.

merlin, this engagement party is beginning to feel more and more like a funeral with every passing second, and he'd already dug himself a deep-enough grave just by showing up to this affair—by allowing himself to be here, in this strange limbo between the past he had to let go of and the future he no longer had any part in.

okay, funeral might be too near the knuckle. a stage play, now that's more fitting—complete with its flashy set, monotonous musical accompaniment, even the lead cast and audience. it all felt like a performance, and he, the unwilling spectator, had been cast in the worst role.

all that is to say, it really was not a nice party.

and it seemed he wasn’t the only one with grievances about the whole thing when just a few feet away, he caught the rasp of a shrill, hushed voice, rising above the ambient murmur of polite conversation like a knife through velvet.

“what a pity he's off the market. and to her, of all people. disagreeable little shrew of a witch, if you ask me.”

sebastian turned toward the source of the sound, narrowing his gaze. two women, dressed in garish, overly elaborate gowns were leaning in, exchanging what could only be described as venomous whispers. one of them, a woman with too much rouge on her cheeks, elbowed her companion, who, scandalized, raised a hand to her lips in mock surprise.

“an odd pairing, wouldn't you say?" the second woman chimed in, her voice betraying her amusement. “the hero of hogwarts and a pureblood heir. i wonder how they ever came to be.”

“if all the rumors about her past are to be believed, there has to be a conspiracy behind this. perhaps she slipped him an amortentia or, merlin forbid, blackmailed him.”

the second woman raised her glass in contemplation, her eyes gleaming with the sort of cruelty that only gossip seemed to nurture. “or maybe it’s for status,” she mused, “a marriage of convenience, perhaps? the hero marrying into a respectable family for a bit of security. a trade, if you will.”

he would have been inclined to agree—if only they hadn’t so thoughtlessly insulted the woman he once (still) loved. he could almost feel the heat rising to his face, the bitter sting of their insinuations making his hand ball into a fist at his side. but stepping in would be too over the line, even for sebastian. because she wasn't his to defend anymore. she’d made sure of that by giving her hand to some pureblood prick that wasn't him.

“well," the first woman continued, her voice turning sly, "whatever the case, she’s certainly fortunate. there aren’t many men left nowadays willing to be tied down, what with all the modern notions of ‘free love’ and 'unconventional living.' most prefer the arrangement where marriage is simply a word they needn't bother with. she’ll never want for anything, i suppose.”

“come to think of it, wasn't she in a long-term relationship just before this? witch weekly was quite abuzz about it. detailed how they’ve been together since their time in hogwarts and how everyone thought they'd be married by now, only for them to end in ruins all of a sudden.”

"oh, i think i remember that. though, as i recall, they never revealed the identity of her beau." the first woman pondered, tapping her fan against her cheek. "such a mysterious fellow, wasn't he? can you imagine what it must be like for him? finding out his beloved is to marry one of the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelors so soon after their parting?"

"oh, i’d be positively reeling," the second woman chimed in, a wicked grin playing at her lips. "i’d hardly be able to hold my glass steady."

that was it. he’d had enough eavesdropping for the night. no, scratch that—his whole life, actually.

this was precisely why he never engaged in gossip—not because he didn’t know it was often rooted in half-truths or outright falsehoods, but because on the off chance it was a truth, he couldn’t endure the sting of it especially when rubbed in his face. the incessant chatter, the giggling, the way their voices danced around his very existence like a cruel little game. it was as though they had found some perverse pleasure in prying open wounds that had barely even healed, turning them over in the light for sport.

but there was nothing like alcohol to cleanse the wound, so he had the snack steward pour him a fresh glass of champagne to flush out the muck that clung to the gash.

and it shouldn't even hurt in the first place. he was over this. he’d already accepted how things had come to be. hell, he wouldn't be here at this godforsaken party if he hadn't. this was not the time or place for this. he was a professional, damn it. he had been through worse than a half-forgotten heartbreak in his time, for merlin’s sake. this wasn’t about him, or what he thought he could have had. he was fine.

it was just the champagne. the party had so much damn champagne. it had clouded his head and muddled his thoughts. it made everything hurt more than it should. he just needed fresh air, something sobering, something to clear the fog.

so he excused himself without a word. before he knew it, he was standing on the balcony, the cool night air hitting his face with an almost brutal clarity.

as the cool breeze ruffled his hair, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the chasm below. maybe that was the real feeling—falling. that's what it had always felt like with her. a leap into something that he couldn’t control. something that was already lost before he had the chance to catch it. he’d never been able to get his footing, never been able to catch the ground beneath him before it slipped away.

and tonight, he was just watching her from the bottom, wishing he could climb back up.

—

sebastian stood there, the cold seeping through his coat as the social raged inside. glass of champagne still clutched tightly in his hand since he excused himself—how long ago had that been? a while. he wasn’t sure. time had started to lose its meaning out here. the muffled hum of the party drifted through the heavy stone walls, but he didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

it was a dreadful party, anyway.

at least out here, in the chill, there was a kind of comfort in the solitude. even if it felt like he was slowly being frozen into the stone.

the sound of the balcony doors opening caught his attention, followed by a soft click as they closed behind whoever had dared to step out into the cold.

“oh, my apologies! i didn’t know someone was out here. i—sebastian. there you are.”

sebastian turned towards the commotion, and there she was. with her too-primped hair, too-tight smile, and too-bright ring.

his gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was something there—a flicker of recognition, of shared history, that made his breath catch, almost rivaling the buzz the champagne gave him.

“there you are,” he replied, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. it was almost instinctive—like a beck and call he didn’t even realize he was still answering to.

she let out a breath, looking as if she had been holding it in for far too long. “sorry, i just needed an escape from all that.” her hand swept vaguely behind her, motioning to the pantomime behind the balcony doors.

“i’ll take my leave if you like.” sebastian said, already moving to turn away.

her brows immediately shot up, her hands instinctively raised as if to stop him. “no, stay. please. i’d like some company that isn't somewhat of a stranger for once tonight. unless… you’d rather leave?”

“i’ll stay.”

the words slipped out before he had a chance to stop them, much to his chagrin. he could almost hear his own internal voice, the one that had always been a little too self-assured, a little too sure of himself, yelling at him for it. though he never really knew how to say no to her, he thought by now he’d learn to. maybe it’s because he’s out of practice, or maybe it’s just the champagne dulling his senses.

but then, a small, crooked smile curved on her lips—a smile so familiar, so raw, that sebastian swore it made his heart skip a few beats too many. it was a glimpse of the real her. the one without all the pretense. and gods, it hit him harder than any amount of champagne in the party—no, the entire world—ever could.

she lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to kick off her heeled shoes with a frustrated huff. “these shoes are killing me,” she muttered under her breath, her voice a touch more vulnerable than she probably intended.

sebastian watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the shoes she discarded with such finality, as if casting away a part of her carefully constructed image for a moment of relief. then stepped up next to him, leaning casually against the railing. she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze sweeping out over the city lights as if they held some unspoken truth.

the silence stretched between, but it felt oddly familiar—like the space between them had never really grown so wide. maybe he was just deluding himself, but for a moment, it felt like they hadn’t changed, like they could still slip back into those old rhythms. it wasn’t comfortable, not exactly, but it was natural in a way.

“congratulations, by the way. it’s a nice party,” sebastian said, his voice a little too casual. a lie. he knew it, she knew it. and yet, neither of them dared to say it aloud.

“the very picture of grandeur,” he added, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast, as if the motion might somehow mask the gaucheness creeping into his tone.

she hummed in response, but it wasn’t in agreement. It was more like a sardonic chuckle, a sound that told him she saw through it all. “and then some,” she replied, her voice dripping with dry humor. “i think it’s quite over the top. but don't tell hector i said that, he’d have a fit.”

hector? oh, her fiancée. that must be his name.

for all his loquacious nature, sebastian didn’t quite know how to respond to that. there was a pang of something—jealousy, regret, resentment—that made the words catch in his throat. there was a part of him that wanted to ask how it felt, to ask if hector was everything she had dreamed of. but he knew he didn’t have the right. so, he stayed silent, letting the questions churn inside, only to swallow them down along with another gulp of champagne.

she smiled then, warm at first, but it quickly shifted into something more melancholic. “but i’m glad you’re here, sebastian,” she said, her voice gentle. “to be honest, i wasn’t sure if you’d come, considering, well, everything. if i were you, the last place i’d want to be is my ex’s engagement party.”

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “i could be in worse places,” he said, the smirk tugging at his lips as he raised his glass. “and hey, what could be better than a party with an abundance of champagne?”

“i know you’re joking, but take it easy on the champagne, alright? you’re a lot more indulgent than you like to think.”

sebastian leaned back, giving her a sidelong glance. “ah, there it is. your trademark nagging. i’m already starting to feel sorry for hector.”

the words were flippant, but his chest tightened the moment they left his mouth. the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of her odd brand of shrewish affection gnawed at him more than he wanted to admit. he would have swallowed every word he'd ever said if it meant he could keep all that cavilling to himself again. but that's neither here nor there.

she scoffed. “oh, trust me, he does enough nagging for the both of us. quite the pedant, really. i don't know how you put up with me for as long as you did. might be a good idea to ask for your advice."

her words were wrapped in jest, but sebastian didn’t miss the small shift in her expression. the tiniest of pouts tugged at her bottom lip, and he caught it—just a flicker. it passed so quickly he almost convinced himself he hadn’t seen it. but he had. and it twisted something in his chest, a reminder of all the ways he used to know her. again, he found himself telling himself that it didn't concern him. not anymore.

“advice?” he said, his voice forced into a casual tone, but it cracked just a little. “you’re asking the wrong person, hen. i’m hardly an expert on relationships. evidently.”

the irony in his own words didn't escape him. no, what did escape him was just how much the slip of that term of endearment landed with weight.

her gaze flicked over to him, brow raised in mild surprise, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement. “hen?” she echoed.

ah, of course. yet another symptom of too much champagne that also falls under a lack of control—the slip of the tongue.

“force of habit.” his excuse came, quickly trying to backpedal.

hen was a relic of their past, something he’d used to call her when things were simpler, before everything had gotten tangled and messy. she would always mock him for using such a twee nickname, but there was always something in her expression when he said it, a brief flicker in her eyes that made him wonder if, deep down, she didn’t mind it as much as she let on.

but to his surprise, she just smiled, the curve of her lips soft, almost fond. she didn’t mock him, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. no judgement. no laughter at his expense. there was a quiet in her gaze, one that lingered longer than usual. recognition, maybe. nostalgia. the kind of thing that shouldn’t have been there, but it was. and it echoed in his chest, so painfully familiar.

she hummed, the kind she used to make when she was content, and turned back to the night sky, as though the way she looked at sebastian didn't just send him reeling right then and there. as if she knew that that one look would make him more flustered than she would if she’d just mocked him.

“so, what’s been keeping you busy these days?" she asked, her voice softer now, a hint of genuine curiosity underneath her teasing tone. "the world’s still spinning, i presume?"

"ah, you know. work, as usual," he replied, his tone flat and yet cautious at the same time.

if it were anyone else, he'd have launched into a long-winded spiel of his latest case. after all, his work had become the one thing he clung to, the only thing that made getting out of bed in the morning feel necessary. but with her? the words didn’t flow so easily. even back then, it had become a touchy subject between them—something that both defined him and drove a wedge between them.

okay, so maybe it wasn't his work that drove them apart and more so his obsession to it. or rather, his obsession to prove himself. his obsession to be part of something larger, something better. but that was a thing of the past, and there's no point dredging it up now when they're supposed to be celebrating the future.

"of course, still married to your job, i see. i mean, i get it, you've always been a workaholic.” she nodded, a knowing yet bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "i even heard you took down yet another beast trafficking ring. well done, sebastian.”

sebastian's brow arched involuntarily. had she been keeping tabs on him? the idea that she might still be keeping track of him, that he’s still running around in that mesmerizing clutter of a mind of hers? he wouldn't dare say it out loud but it tickled him pink. it was both absurd and somehow thrilling. maybe she had asked around—natty, perhaps? he had worked on a handful of cases with her over the past few months—there was no reason natty couldn’t have mentioned something about the work they’ve been doing. or maybe she’d been watching him? he wouldn't put it past her to do such a thing, sly little witch she is.

“oh, would you wipe that look off your face?” came her voice, the playful edge in her voice obvious. “i know what you're thinking, and no. i just happened to read about it on the daily prophet.”

sebastian couldn’t help the slow, satisfied smile that crept across his face. she could feign ignorance as much as she liked, but the flush on her cheeks told a different story. and it sure as hell wasn’t just the rouge she wore. it spread slowly, a warm pink creeping up her neck, staining her cheek.

“is that so?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but it came out a little softer than he’d intended. “i guess i make the news more than i realized.”

“i’ll have you know the daily prophet reports on anything these days. they even had an article on what the best flavor of bertie bott’s beans is.” she rolled her eyes, her lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “beans, sebastian. on the very same page of your ring-busting article. i guess that's the kind of highly important news they decide to prioritize.”

“next thing you know, they're reporting on the right way to sneeze.” he added with a wry grin.

“oh, you’d better read that then,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes alight with a teasing sparkle. “merlin knows how many have suffered at the hands of your loud sneezes.”

“well, you know what the daily prophet won't be able to tell you? i adopted a cat.”

her eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. "a cat?" she looked at him like he’d just announced he’d learned to juggle fire. “you? this happened when, pray tell?”

sebastian shrugged, his smile widening just a little. "oh, you know. a few weeks ago. felt i might do with some company that wasn’t a case file or a bottle of firewhisky.”

the glint in her eyes only told him she was intrigued, so he kept going. "yeah. you’d love her. she’s a restless bugger, but she can be so affectionate. she reminds me a lot of you, actually. it’s why i got her in the first place. i even named her hen after—”

he froze mid-sentence, his smile faltering as soon as he realized what he’d said. sweet merlin, is there any chance he could cast a shrinking charm on himself so he could be small enough to jump into his glass and drown in the champagne?

or maybe that’s just it. he’s had way too much champagne. it had messed with him already more times than he could count tonight, so it wouldn't be too far-fetched. but then again, he didn't really care enough to stop drinking. not when the alcohol made it easier to suppress the bitter feelings that threatened to spill.

she stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide with surprise, then a small, entertained twist of expression tugged at the corner of her mouth. if earlier hadn’t been enough to spark her teasing, then surely this would be.

“merlin, i’ve been replaced by a cat.” she tilted her head. “i don’t know whether to be offended, relieved, or touched.”

sebastian’s eyes narrowed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his attempt to look disinterested. he rolled his eyes dramatically, though the teasing wasn’t lost on him. “oh, come off it,” he muttered.

“look at you,” she spoke again. her voice was soft, as if overflowing with a solemn pride. “sebastian sallow, slytherin’s finest, accomplished auror, and now, cat owner. everything you ever wanted to be.”

if one word could be used to describe sebastian, it would be amour propre. granted, that’s two words, but the point still stands: he’s everything he’s ever wanted to be, and he’s proud of it. hell, he’d sacrificed more than he cared to admit to get here, to prove himself, to show the world that he was enough.

but if so, why did her words feel like a punch to the gut?

because all he’d ever wanted was to be hers. that was the truth of it, buried beneath all the ambition, all the success, all the work that had consumed him. it had never been about the accolades or the recognition. it was all just smoke and mirrors, an illusion from what he truly wanted. to prove himself worthy of her hand.

and when his eyes landed on that diamond on her finger, he’d realized all of it was for nothing. true to sebastian sallow fashion, he became too focused on the end goal he’d lost sight of where it all began.

"and you?" he finally managed, voice rougher than he intended. "you’re becoming a... wife."

the words felt like lead in his mouth. he swallowed hard, as if trying to chase the bitter taste out of his throat.

she sighed softly, almost wistfully, and her hand moved to absently fiddle with the diamond ring on her finger. the band slid up and down, just a little too big for her, a subtle movement that made it seem like it didn’t quite belong.

"i know, right?" she said, a faint, almost bitter edge creeping into her voice. "everything i ever wanted to be..."

“do you ever wish things could have panned out differently, sebastian?” she asked the question softly after a beat, but there was a weight to it, like she already knew the answer.

sebastian tried to find the words, but only stayed silent. he would be lying if he said he didn’t—if he didn’t wish, deep down, that things had turned out differently. but he’d had a year to accept it. a year to make peace with the reality handed to him, to bury the gnawing what-ifs under layers of duty and time. he’d convinced himself he was moved on. convinced himself that this was what was meant to be.

but that was before today. before this party. before the sight of the ring—her ring—shining like a cruel reminder of everything he had lost.

well, what good was wishful thinking, really? what was it but a self-inflicted wound that only festered into regret? what was done was done. and what was done was them—two separate paths now, carved out by the choices of time.

“why am I even asking? i’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.” her voice broke through his thoughts, laced with a softness that almost felt too painful.

“but... isn’t this what you wanted?” he forced himself to meet her eyes, though the words scraped his throat like nails. “to settle down, build a family?”

her eyes dropped to the ring again, the weight of it between them. she didn’t answer right away, as though she were trying to decide how to put it into words. the silence stretched thin before she spoke, her voice almost wistful, a quiet ache behind it.

“i… it is. just not like this.”

sebastian frowned, his brow furrowing deeper with confusion. not like this? what did she mean by that? was she implying that this—this life, this marriage, this future she was about to walk into—wasn’t what she had hoped for?

but he knew better than to be presumptuous. the last time he'd done that, he’d assumed she would be there, waiting, standing beside him until the end of time. and look where that had gotten him. he had learned, painfully, that hope could be a dangerous thing when it wasn’t tempered by reality.

and for all he knew, maybe she wasn’t so much regretting her choices as she was adjusting to them. the end of a decade-long relationship. the move from a cozy one-bedroom flat to a grand, unfamiliar manor that seemed more like a cage than a home. an engagement. the pressure of it. the weight of the new, the unfamiliar. it had to leave her feeling a little unmoored, a little lost. after all, hadn’t it left him feeling the same way when he was forced to step into a future he never wanted?

so instead of speaking, of pressing her for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, sebastian did what he’d become so adept at doing in the last year: he held his tongue. he let the silence stretch between them, a thin, fragile line neither of them seemed willing to cross.

but then, after a long beat, her voice broke through the quiet, softer than before, hesitant and unsure.

“i mean... i…” she hesitated for a fraction of a second, her fingers twisting slightly around the diamond ring. “i just miss going out on adventures, taking down bad guys, the daily prophet reporting about my adventures. i’m sorry, i know, i sound so green-eyed.”

“well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “i think you were in a witch weekly article.”

she elbowed him lightly, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “not a consolation. you know i don’t like being treated like a celebrity.”

“moot point when you’ve got a whole wingding for a marriage that hasn’t even happened yet.”

she rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. “oh, hush. it wasn’t my idea. if anything, i was against this whole thing but a husband's word is the law.”

her words were casual enough, but there was something beneath them—a quiet fatalism that rang through her tone, as though she had long since stopped fighting against the roles others had set for her. it was so unlike her. the woman he had known would have never allowed herself to be so... tame. it made him wonder if, had she heard him say that, would she still have hexed him like how her normal reaction would have been?

she had always been a force in her own right—a woman who did things her way, consequences be damned. and for all his own reservations about this hector, sebastian couldn’t deny there was a certain respect in the way she spoke of him. no, not respect—submission. it was the resignation of someone who had, for better or for worse (pun unintended), accepted their fate.

well, if it had been him—if he had been the one to give her that ring—things would have been different.

oh. there it was again—champagne clouding his judgement, making him think of what-ifs. but really, how much longer could he hold onto the intoxicating delusion that things could still be different? and most of all, how much longer can one blame the champagne?

sebastian set his glass down on the railing, the crystal making a sharp, definitive clink that cut through the silence. the sound seemed to echo, as though marking a turning point in the conversation, a shift in the air between them.

“i ought to warn hector,” he said, the playful edge to his voice sharpening in the thick air. “you can be quite scary when things don’t go your way. i remember once, ominis asked you to stop breaking and entering into random homes, and what did you do? used a very advanced locking charm to lock him out of his own apartment. took him days to get back inside. perhaps i should share that delightful story with your fiancée.”

her eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile that tugged at her lips betrayed a knowing amusement. “oh, i’m sure hector would enjoy that just as much as he’d enjoy the scolding he'd give me after,” she said, her voice smooth but tinged with something heavier. “he’s a man of strong opinions—loves to hold court on matters of... propriety. and best believe, he doesn't sway easily.”

“ah, but you forget my irresistible charm. you were the most relentless person i know, and it worked on you, didn’t it?”

“more like it wore me down.”

“same thing.”

she laughed. actually, more like guffawed. the sound bubbled up from her chest and filled the space between them, louder and freer than he’d heard in ages.

for a moment, everything seemed to fall away—the lingering heartbreak of their separation, the party, the expectations, the wretchedness of it all. they were just two people, lost in the simplicity of shared history, the ease of old comfort.

her shoulder brushed his, the smallest of touches. sebastian hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten, how their space had slowly shrunk until they were practically leaning into each other. he could feel the warmth of her next to him, the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

it made his head spin and he didn't know what to blame this time. was it the champagne he’d been nursing all night? or perhaps the party had made him stir crazy? maybe he’s gotten a cold from all this biting air? all he knew was that if she were any closer, he would surely die. but in that same breath, he didn’t want it to stop. he didn't want the dizzying rush of this feeling to end. to be this close to her, so near, so... alive—if this was what death felt like, he would die happy. hell, he'd beg for it.

and it seemed the universe, in all its cruel, whimsical glory, did indeed want him to die. because in the next breath, she moved again—just a slight shift, but it was enough. her head, soft and weightless, found its place against his shoulder, a gentle pressure that sent a shiver through him, down to his very bones.

it was a dangerous thing, this proximity. it made him ache for the things he couldn't have anymore. but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind the pain.

“i haven’t laughed this much in a while,” she said, her voice almost dreamy. “i forgot how easily you could do that.”

“you know for someone so talkative, you're awfully quiet today.” she added.

sebastian exhaled, trying to force a chuckle past the lump in his throat. “ah, well... it’s not every day i come to my ex’s engagement party."

the words were dry and brittle, a thin veil over the mess of feelings roiling beneath. he could feel the weight pressing down on him, his usual charm lost to the quiet ache that had been building ever since he’d walked into this damned party.

she looked up at him, her head leaving his shoulder. sebastian fought the urge to wince at the loss of contact. he hated how it made him feel—small, like a child caught in the act of wanting something he could never have. a pathetic little loser, lost in his own head.

“right. the party,” she said, her voice distant now, like she was already stepping away, back to the world she was now leashed to. “i should get back in there.”

sebastian could feel the words coiling in his throat, but he couldn’t make them come. the lump was too heavy, the ache too deep. he didn’t want to stop her, didn’t want to be the one to hold her in this fleeting moment, knowing it was already slipping away. so he simply nodded.

she nodded back, a small, quiet acknowledgment. and in that brief exchange, something shifted—like a subtle current pulling them together without either of them willing to fight it. they were both standing still, suspended in the space between them, as though the world around them had melted into a blur. neither could look away. their gazes locked, drawn together by the gravity of everything unspoken, everything left unresolved.

for a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, quiet and steady, as though time itself had momentarily paused. sebastian could see the subtle flicker of emotion in her eyes, the fragility of it. the distance between them was vast, but in that instant, it felt narrower than it ever had before. she wasn’t just the woman he’d lost; she was a stranger, yet also someone he knew more intimately than anyone else in the world.

her lips parted, but no words came. it was as though they were both afraid to break the fragile tension that hummed between them. they were too fixed on each other’s eyes, as if speaking would shatter something delicate, something that might never exist again.

but then the sound of the balcony doors opening broke the stillness. a shift in the air, sharp and unwelcome, as if the universe itself was demanding they face the reality neither of them wanted to acknowledge. the doors clicked shut behind the intruder.

“brother, i knew you’d be sulking out here,” came anne’s voice, sharp and too bright. sebastian turned, his jaw tightening at the sound of her footsteps.

her eyes caught the two of them, lingering just long enough to read the unspoken, heavy weight of the moment. then, her expression flickered, a mix of surprise and amusement, as if she were watching something she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“did i interrupt something?” anne asked, a sly edge to her words, as if she could see through the mask they both wore, but was too polite to say anything more.

before sebastian could even process a response, the woman in front of him beat him to it.

“oh, not at all,” she said quickly, brushing past him to put her shoes back on. her voice was light, but there was something strained about it now—an effort to keep her composure intact. as if she was already slipping back into the role she’d rehearsed for the evening. “i was just heading out.”

anne, ever the enigma, chirped with forced cheer. “oh, by the way, congratulations on your engagement!”

“thank you, anne,” she replied, her tone measured, smooth—too smooth.

with the speed at which her mask snapped back on, sebastian felt as if he'd just gone through the looking glass. the moment between them, that fragile flicker of rawness, shattered the second she spoke. the real her, the woman he’d known, was gone—swallowed by a perfect, polished version of herself. he could almost hear the click as the walls went back up, soundproof and impervious.

but just as she turned to leave, her eyes flicked back to sebastian, and for a split second, there was a crack in that mask. a fleeting moment of something raw, something unguarded. the way she looked at him made his chest tighten, the kind of look that carried a thousand unspoken words, a thousand regrets.

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something—anything—but she didn’t. the silence between them grew thick, heavy with all the things they never said and probably never would.

instead, he grabbed his champagne glass, fingers trembling just slightly as he raised it to his lips, swallowing the rest of it in one smooth, numbing gulp. anything to chase away the taste of the moment, anything to erase the feeling of her gaze and touch.

“excuse me,” she murmured, her voice soft and distant, as if this whole thing—this entire exchange—had already been written. she brushed past anne with the grace of someone who had long ago perfected the art of walking away, leaving sebastian with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of champagne and the cold, aching silence.

they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. but sebastian knew the truth. watching her walk away, the woman he had loved with everything in him, the woman who had been his world before it all crumbled—it didn’t make him stronger. it just made him feel dead. and drunk.

or maybe it was just the champagne.

[whalyrae]

DANCE WITH ME - CHAPTER 7

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)

Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,…

Tag list : @ghostlyworld @kawaiikpoplover268 @scuzmunkie @iamkookiesforyou @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @akemiixx01 @aceofcards05 @strxwbloody @seoul9711 @amara-mars @alex-walker-86 @yoongicatcat @xicanacorpse @maciesmess 

A/N : It took me more time than I thought to write this sorry (again ;-;) dealing with mental health issues is shit really I wish I was strong and courageous like my characters LMAO. So as an apology, this chapter is a little longer than usual :D Hope you'll like it !

I'll never thank u enough for all the likes and shares despite the looong time I take to write and publish the next chapters ;w; that's my only motivation to keep writing the story tbh...! (I have severe impostor syndrome yes...... ^^) so thank you again !! Don't hesitate to let a comment here, or in my inbox !! ♥

Also I made a playlist for the story ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist ! ♥

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad | Spotify playlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

A/N² : again it's barely proof read, sorry for the potential mistakes TwT

. . .

The day has come. The practice exam was this afternoon. 

When you woke up this morning, you felt like you wanted to throw up. Being stressed was an euphemism. You didn’t even know why you felt like that. You spent the previous weeks practicing, alone and with Wooyoung. You even had some help and advice from his boyfriend, San. 

You never get why you were so stressed. Once the music started, all the anxiety and apprehension would disappear. It had always been that way when you danced. 

These last few months, your body was really testing you, and you weren't thanking it at all. 

You knew the steps perfectly, you and Wooyoung’s coordination and synchronization were perfect. You were more than ready, you knew it. And despite that, you were anxious, sure you’d fail everything, having bad notes, failing your scholarship after working so hard…

“Y/N ?”

The sudden voice startled you. In your kitchen, you were the last remaining in this apartment. Your roommates had already left, wanting to rehearse one last time before the exam. 

You would have done the same, but the stress and anxiety had given you such a stomach ache that it took you longer to get out of bed. 

You weren’t surprised to see Jimin not really anxious. You'd never seen him stressed when it came to dancing. And from the relaxed attitude Hoseok and Jungkook had shown since you'd met them, you suspected they were in the same category as Jimin. 

When you recognized the voice and noticed Jin facing you, you couldn't hide your surprise. 

“I thought you all left for work ?” you asked him, trying to stay calm. 

“Yoongi don’t need me at this hour,” Jin replied with a chuckle, “I'll be more of a nuisance than anything else. Is everything all right?”

You noticed the two cups of coffee held in his hands when he handed one to you. You silently thanked him and took a sip after blowing on the top of the cup to not burn yourself. It was delicious. Jin's coffees were the best. He'd never forgotten how you took it, ever since the first time he'd served you on the day you met. 

"I can smell your stress from the doorway, you know?" he said after a few seconds, seeing that you didn't answer because you simply didn't know what to say. 

You chuckled and pursed your lips, it was a nervous laugh. 

"Is it that obvious?"

"Trust me there's a picture of you next to the word anxious in the dictionary!"

Okay, the next laugh was more relaxed, more sincere. Jin had this sense of humor that some might find heavy and boring, but it was just the opposite for you. You were always the first to laugh at his jokes, sometimes even against your will. But what could you do? Jin was naturally amusing. He had a way of lightening the mood quickly and with just a few words. 

“Everything will be fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He kept talking, as he took a step towards you, "You've worked hard, you've done your best, there's no reason for you to fail. Don't forget that you're good, you're really good."

Delicately, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, provoking a slight discharge that was anything but painful. 

How had you never noticed that what you felt for them, for him, wasn't friendship? That need you felt with every physical contact, your heart racing, your stomach twisting in such a pleasurable way. 

You felt both foolish for having been so blind and in denial all this time, but at the same time relieved to have finally been able to put a word to all these things, to finally have a clear vision of the situation. 

The only thing you couldn't control, and wouldn't control, would be the boys' reaction when you admitted to them that you were an omega. Because yes, now that the end of exams had arrived, and on top of that, you were going to be entitled to two weeks' rest, you were going to have to tell them (part of) the truth. You'd promised yourself you'd do it, you couldn't back out. Especially as your next heat could come at any moment. 

Perhaps that's also where the stress came from, that uncertainty, that lack of knowledge about the coming heat you were so worried about, about how you were going to manage it, about...

"Y/N... you're overthinking again."

You bite your lips nervously, shaking her head with a nervous smile. 

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry… I guess it’ll be better at the end of the day !”

Jin shook his head with a chuckle, and his face changed quickly from a most serious one, maybe the most serious face she had seen since she met him. 

“I’m sure it’s more than just… this exam, but you won’t talk to us, nor Jimin. You know we could never leave you, or judge you, no matter what it is ?”

So they all noticed you were acting differently, didn't they? Of course, they could. You weren’t the best to hide when something was wrong. And even if you were, Jimin could read you like an open book. And you did not doubt that he would have later confided to his partners. 

“I know, and it’s the same for me, I just… need to get done with this exam first.” you began, your voice trembling, “I know I haven't been... the most agreeable person lately, and I'm sorry for that, sincerely…”

You looked away, for some reason feeling your eyes sting, as if you wanted to cry. 

“Hey, hey, listen... look at me, please,” Jin's hands rested delicately on your cheeks. He waited patiently, and resumed once your eyes met, “You don't have to apologize, we all go through moments more tense, more difficult than others that make us more tense and nervous, no one here holds it against you, believe me.”

You nodded. He wiped the few tears from your eyes and leaned to place his lips on your forehead. And it's a good thing you had a certain amount of self-control, that you could restrain your actions, your desires, and your impulses, because the only craving you had right now when you felt Jin's soft lips against your forehead, was to raise your face and have your lips meet his. 

It was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do. 

“Ah, I have an idea !” he exclaimed as he stepped back, leaving you with a very unpleasant feeling of emptiness, “I'll drive you to your class, we'll go through the café, and Yoongi will give you croissants and coffee for you, Minnie, Kook' and Hobi!”

You blinked several times, not taking your eyes off him while he moved into your apartment to grab your bag.

“Wait!” You called out as you grabbed his arm, “I thought Yoongi didn’t want to be disturbed before the opening?” 

"Oh don't worry, we’ll be quick. Plus if it's you he won't say anything." Jin shrugged with a smirk as he handed her her bag, “You know, he doesn't show it, but he has a soft spot for you.”

You raised your eyes to the sky, trying to prevent your body from betraying you, but you couldn't. You could already feel your face and ears heating up. You knew Yoongi's temperament; he had his own way of showing affection to the people he loved. You also didn't doubt that he cared for you, but to use the word “soft spot”... 

“You're blushiiing...” Jin suddenly teased. 

“I'm not!” you exclaimed as you walked past him with your head down hiding any hints of blush if there were one, “Let's go! I don't want to be late!"

You didn't want Jin to be able to see what effect this was having on you, what effects they all were having on you. And that damn body that would only betray you... the coward! 

“Yes ma'am!” Jin couldn't hold back his giggle and stepped out with you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his embrace, his very singular scent didn't help your mood at all. “Aaah what are we going to do with you, little tsundere!”

“I'm not a... argh, you know what, never mind!” 

You didn't know why, but you had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. 

°°°

When you arrived at the dance hall less than an hour later, you quickly spotted Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin chatting with each other. Jungkook was the first to spot you and waved to you with his eternal big smile that melted you every time. 

You looked around for San and Wooyoung, remembering the day before that Wooyoung told you that some of the second and senior-year students would be there to watch the first years, which added a layer of stress because some of them, being alphas, were the ones who had almost harassed you to be an omega at the beginning of the year. 

But as you and Wooyoung had said to each other in the café when you first met: "We'll take the opportunity to nail all those pretentious alphas who like to spend their lives looking down on us!" 

And that was your main motivation right now. 

"Noona! We're here!" he exclaimed, drawing the attention of several students to you, which you decided to ignore because all their attention would be on you in about a dozen minutes anyway. 

"Oh great pastries!" exclaimed Jimin, taking the box from your hands as you handed it to him, "They're from Yoongi hyung!"

"Thank god, I love him so much, I'm starving..." muttered Jungkook who didn't wait to open the box and take out a cupcake which he bit into instantly. 

“Oh, you have Jin's scent on you...” Hoseok didn’t seem to be interested in pastries and approached you. You almost had the impression he was humming you quickly. "Hey, you're wearing his hoodie!”

You and Jin had gone to the café where Yoongi was already, and as Jin had told you earlier, Yoongi's face, initially shut and ready to scold Jin by reminding him that he didn't like to be disturbed in the morning, had immediately softened on seeing you appear beside him. Jin noticed this immediately and didn't stop himself from pointing out that he'd been right by giving you a little nudge on the shoulder and a chuckle, making you grumble as you did your best not to blush again. 

Yoongi of course understood why Jin had brought you along, because like everyone else, he knew that this day was important for Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, and you. 

He didn't ask any questions, he didn't even say a word. He just walked away and packed some pastries he knew you or the boys would enjoy, and you even noticed that he'd slipped a Strawberry Shortcake into the box, your favorite.  

When he walked to you and handed you the box, you could have sworn he brushed his fingers against yours on purpose, sending a long shiver down your spine. But he didn't notice, or so you hoped because even if he did, you didn't see any reaction from him. 

Once back in Jin's car, you noticed that you'd forgotten your jacket at the apartment, and unfortunately, you didn't have time to go home again. Jin hadn't hesitated to give you his hoodie, a café-au-lait-colored hoodie that was far too oversized for you, and you were floating in it, which made him laugh.  

The reason you couldn't say no was his smell. Like all of them, Jin had a very particular scent, very sweet but very strong, which invaded your whole being the moment the hoodie's fabric settled on your body. That same warmth returned to your stomach and probably also to your face, but Jin couldn't see it since you'd pulled the hood over your head. 

How could a simple piece of clothing make you feel so safe? 

“Noona? Noona!” Jungkook’s voice startled you, “Is everything fine? Don’t tell me you’re stressed!”

You blinked a few times and noticed your four friends staring at you, Jimin looking a little more worried than the others. Perhaps because he knew you best. 

“Ah yes, yes I’m fine!” you assured with a small smile, "Of course I'm stressed, not to be would be a sign of recklessness!"

"Well, I'm not really..."

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" you exclaimed, cutting off Hoseok who just couldn't help but laugh, "Ah and yes it's Jin's hoodie, I forgot my jacket at the apartment..."

"You could have asked me, I would have given you mine," Jimin muttered before receiving a small elbow from Hoseok. You looked at him, confused, and rubbed the back of your head with a shy smile. 

"You can give it to me if you want. No, wait... that's not what I meant..." you frowned, more to yourself, and tried to hide the heat wave by imagining yourself having not only Jin's scent but also Jimin's on you. 

"Oh no? What did you mean then?" Jungkook leaned towards her with a small smirk, "If you want I can pass you mine too, and I'm sure Hobi will do the same!" 

You frowned as you realized that Jungkook was starting to tease you, suspicions confirmed when Hobi also tapped him on the shoulder. But the mere idea of being surrounded by all the smells of your roommates and friends was enough to send a wave of warmth through your lower belly and your whole being. 

You had to change the subject, avoid the conversation going any further, or maybe find Wooyoung... 

Just when you needed it most, Wooyoung came up behind you and almost jumped on your back, snatching a laugh in the process. 

"Yo, did you miss me?" said Wooyoung in a cheerful tone who had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, he turned to your three friends and greeted them, a thin smile on his lips as he saw Jimin's reaction. It had reached the point where Wooyoung liked to make fun of Jimin's reactions, as he was the one who was the most protective of you, and according to Wooyoung, even jealous and possessive. But you still refused to believe it, being 100% certain that Jimin felt nothing but deep friendship. 

"You can't even imagine," you said ironically, rolling your eyes before grabbing Wooyoung's wrist and pulling you away from your three friends, "there's one last thing we need to discuss, good luck for later!"

"If you think we need luck..." chuckled Jungkook, making you roll your eyes at him again.  

You quickly walked away with Wooyoung, isolating yourselves in a corner of the dance hall, before letting out a long sigh.

"Wow, you don't look good, tense? Don't worry, we'll handle it!"

"Partly, but not only, there's something really weird going on..." 

You quickly told Wooyoung what had happened with Jin, then your reaction to your previous conversation with Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok. 

He remained silent for a few seconds after your explanation, before simply shrugging his shoulders. 

"It's a common thing with omegas, it's called a nest. Well, it's not a nest, but your behavior bears a strong resemblance to one." 

Seeing your confusion, Wooyoung gave a little laugh, not a mocking laugh, but an affectionate one, because indeed, you had a lot to learn. 

He then explained to you that a nest is usually a place where an omega can be comfortable and relaxed, whether they are in heat or just having a bad day. It mostly is the omega’s couch, filled with soft things, the most smelling like their mates if they have one. When they are mated, omegas can share their nest with their partner. 

"But that's the basic definition, made by idiots who like to put us in cases. It's happened very often with us that one of our alphas made a nest himself, because as long as it comforts them, why does it have to be only for omegas?" 

You nodded and smiled. Well, of course, Wooyoung was right, and when you learned this, you wondered why you'd never heard of what a nest was before today. Having grown up in an all-alpha family, a very closed-minded family at that, you weren't surprised that they didn't practice this sort of thing. Thinking back to your mother and sister, you realize that they could both use a little bit of it. As well as a good therapy.

"So that means it's not a sign that I'm going into heat?" you asked, a long sigh of relief leaving your lips as Wooyoung nodded. "Good, I wish I could tell them before it happens, I wouldn't like to... force it on them you know." 

"I understand, don't worry. Are you planning to tell them today?" 

You'd had a long talk with him the day before, about your decision to tell Jimin and your friends that you were an omega, to tell them the whole story. 

"Don't forget that if anything goes wrong, our door is wide open to you! Hongjoong hyung will welcome you with open arms, even though I'm sure everything will go perfectly!"

Wooyoung's optimism could be contagious at times. But he was right, you shouldn't think about the negative, you knew your friends after all, and you knew Jimin better than anyone else in this world. They wouldn't reject you for that. 

You hadn't had time to reply, the teachers, and a few senior students, including San, entered the room. The first-year students fell silent, knowing that the serious part was just about to begin. 

°°°

"Wait, you're first?!"

Jungkook exclaimed, looking at the grade board a few hours later. He turned to Wooyoung and you, as did several students who whispered words you didn't even understand. 

Slowly, you walked over to the board and looked at the sheet of paper on which the grades were written.

Jungkook Jimin and Hoseok were second. It had to be said that their performance was incredible. They had successfully mixed their solo and trio performances, creating a highly original tableau while respecting the given instructions. 

But apparently, the teachers preferred you and Wooyoung's performance. Even if there were only five small points that set you apart from your friends. 

A week before the exam, you and Wooyoung came up with the idea of teaching each other's solo choreography to the other. The solo instruction was that the creation had to be original and from the student himself, and there was no indication that the duo dance partner couldn't participate. Several of you had this idea in your class.

It seems this technique had paid off because you were now top of the class. 

"I don't believe it... Y/n pinch me please," asked Wooyoung in a whisper, before letting out a little scream as you obeyed. "Hey, that hurts!"

"You asked me to pinch you!" you exclaimed, turning to face him. 

"But it wasn't serious! Ah, we're first noona, we made it!" Wooyoung's face lit up and he took you in his arms, making you burst into a frank laugh, but also a way of letting out all the stress accumulated over the last few weeks. 

You hugged Wooyoung for a few seconds, unable to hide your joy and relief at having achieved such a formidable accomplishment, knowing the talented dancers in your group. Of course, you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction at being able to rise above Jimin and your friends. 

You, who'd always had that imposter syndrome when dancing alongside talented dancers like Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, seeing your name inscribed in front of theirs made you realize that you belonged here, that you deserved it, like them, like Wooyoung.

San called Wooyoung, who jumped into his arms and couldn't help but share his joy with his boyfriend. San hugged him back, praising him. He stretched out his hand to you, and you gave him a high five as he winked at you.

"Noona!"

You turned to Jimin, who was walking towards you with a smile like you'd never seen before. Behind him, Jungkook and Hoseok seemed to be just as happy for you, and that only made your heart beat faster. 

You'd always known that between you and Jimin, there'd never been any competition, but you'd had this little thought that maybe Jungkook and Hoseok wouldn't be like him, and you were so relieved to find out that you were wrong. 

“It’s amazing, you are amazing!”

Jimin couldn't resist taking you in his arms, hugging you tightly. This time, you couldn't refuse this hug, you needed it. The stress of the last few weeks was fading away, and you missed your best friend's touch more than ever. 

Anyway, you'd tell them tonight that you were an omega, you didn't want to hide anymore.

°°°

Or maybe, you could wait a little more? 

Because now that you were probably a few minutes before telling (one of) the deepest secrets you ever had, you didn’t know if it was a good idea. 

They were all here, you were all in Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi’s apartment. They had decided to order a multitude of dishes and side dishes, which you shared on the coffee table. At the center of the table was a large bouquet made by Taehyung himself, who couldn't help himself when he heard how well Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok and you'd done. 

“Y/N please, don't forget us when you'll be one of Beyoncé's main dancers, okay? I'd love to have an autograph!”

You nearly choked on your soda at Jin's remark, causing general hilarity. 

“I don't want to dance for Beyoncé!” you couldn't help but laugh despite it, and you got up to grab a towel from the kitchen to wipe yourself off, “ah I swear Jin... you do have an imagination...”

You rolled your eyes as you heard them still laughing and joking about it. From the kitchen, you had a perfect view of the living room and your friends. They were eating, laughing, and teasing each other. There was no negativity in the room. You didn't want to risk ruining it now. But at the same time, you told yourself that if you didn't do it now, you'd never have the courage to do it again. You'd then have your heat without the ability to hide it, things could then degenerate one way or another, and you could lose them forever. 

The thought only was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Hey Y/N, everything okay?”

Yoongi's voice startled you, and you realized that he had joined you in the kitchen. The others didn't seem to have noticed your sudden tension, too busy with their conversations, unlike him. 

You didn't answer, just stared at him blankly at first, and could read the worry in his eyes, but also that little spark of gentleness that was so peculiar to him, a look that could give courage to anyone for whom it was intended. That look meant “You can do it, everything will be all right.” 

It was the same feeling you had when you spoke to Jin earlier this morning, except that Jin passed it on with his words. 

Your heart beat too fast, your mouth went dry. You had to do it. 

Without breaking eye contact, you finally opened your lips, and the words came out slowly, in an insecure, trembling voice. 

“I'm an omega.” 

The others didn't seem to hear you. Yoongi remained silent for a few seconds, without saying a word. Seconds that seemed to last an eternity. Seconds when you had time to imagine the worst possible scenarios, and he seemed to have guessed it.

It was only when he gently took your hand in his that you noticed it was shaking. 

“I know.” he murmured in a soft, reassuring voice, seeing your eyes widened with surprise and confusion, he shook his head with a small laugh, ” Later.”

You opened your mouth to reply but soon saw Jimin's face in your sight. 

“Noona! What's the matter? Are you alright? Did you burn yourself? you-”

“Jimin, let her talk, will you?”

This time it was Namjoon who had spoken, his voice sounding just as reassuring as Yoongi's. Everyone had fallen silent and was staring at you. You looked at each of them, ending with Jimin, whose gaze was filled with unspeakable concern.

You felt a slight pressure on your hand from Yoongi, who wanted to give you the courage to go for it. 

So, like with him, you did your best to gather your thoughts, to coordinate your voice and the words that should come from your lips.

“I... I am an Omega...”

Unfortunately, your voice was shakier than the first time. You couldn't help feeling even more ridiculous as you felt your eyes sting with tears.

“I am sorry... truly sorry I... I didn't mean to hide it...” you managed to articulate, ”I thought I was a beta until... recently and... I panicked.” you take a deep breath as you squeeze Yoongi's hand a little tighter, ”I'll understand if you're angry with me, if you don't want to be friends anymore or...”

“Don't be ridiculous!” 

You recognized Jimin's voice and embrace, which came suddenly, but which you accepted with barely hidden relief. His voice was shaking.

“You're my best friend, the most important person in my life as if that could change over something as trivial as that!”

You couldn't hold back a tear that ran down your cheek. Tear that couldn't finish its way when Yoongi ran his finger over your cheek to wipe it away. 

“It doesn't matter if you're an omega, an alpha, or a beta. You're our Y/N, we love you just the way you are!” exclaimed Jungkook, who sounded just as relieved as Taehyung and Jin. 

Namjoon nodded with a small smile and approached you. You had trouble seeing him, as Jimin had decided to cling to you. 

“It happens frequently actually. You think you are an alpha, and it turns out you're a beta, or an omega, or the other way around.” He explained, placing his hand on your hair as you acquiesced, which he began to stroke in a way that was intended to be gentle and reassuring. 

“You all don’t seem that surprised…” you said as you remembered words a few minutes ago, and when you heard Jungkook cough, you turned to him, confused. 

“I… I heard you a few weeks ago, you were on the phone with Wooyoung… Yoongi hyung heard me and we told the others…”

Ok, this one you didn't see it coming. But in the end, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin finally asked, looking at you curiously, and somewhat a little hurt by your silence, which you thought was totally valid. 

“Minnie, can you let go of her ?” Hoseok asked with a little laugh. 

“No, I have months of hugs to catch up !” he exclaimed, his grip on you tightening a little, making the others sigh. But you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. You didn’t mind it at all. You need it more than anything right now.

Oh how you missed his embrace, his warmth, his scent all over you. It felt so good, so right to be in his arms. It felt like where you should be. 

It felt like home.

“I didn't tell you because... when I saw the disgust... the disappointment in my mother's eyes...” You shook your head, swallowing back your tears, “That's why she asked me not to come anymore. I couldn't have supported... I couldn't have supported losing you too...” You looked at Jimin who held you closer to him, "to lose you all..."

Admitting these words out loud was harder than you thought. You weren't the kind of person to talk openly about your feelings, fears, and anxieties. 

“I don't want things to change, I don’t want you to treat me differently...”

You bit your lower lip. Your heart was beating a hundred miles. 

“I hope I never have to meet your parents,” Hoseok said in a cold voice you'd never heard from him, and strangely you found it oddly seductive.

“What a bunch of assholes,” Taehyung said disdainfully.

“I'm not even going to correct you this time. What a bunch of jerks.” Jin shook his head, frowning.

“Look, who cares? You're an omega, so what? Is this about your heat? We'll find a way to deal with it, just like we do with our ruts. We don't care, that's not the most important.” Namjoon smiles affectionately at you, “The main thing is that you feel comfortable with us, that we're all comfortable with each other, that's how a pack works after all, isn't it?”

This time, you hid your face against Jimin's shoulder, unable to hold back your tears any longer. 

“Wait... did I say something wrong?” Namjoon asked somewhat panicked, making the others laugh, even you, between sobs. 

“Don't worry, some stress to relieve.” Yoongi grabbed Namjoon's hand, kissing his cheek at the same time, before moving back to the sofa. “She’s fine now, everything will be fine from now on.”

“Ah Noona, I was so scared!” Taehyung exclaimed as he came around to hug you from behind, his torso pressing against your back. 

All these weeks, all this stress, this tension, this constant fear of living through this fateful moment had just come to an end tonight. 

Wooyoung had been right, once again. Things couldn't have gone better. 

Perhaps there was still the feelings thing, but for the moment, you didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to enjoy this moment, this acceptance you'd never had before today. You just wanted to enjoy Jimin's warmth, which you'd missed so much, and Taehyung's, and even Jungkook, who'd added to the hug somehow. 

As Jimin said, he didn't let go of you all evening, snuggling up to you like a Koala to its branch. You don't remember how the evening ended, except that you found yourself lying in a bed between Hoseok and Jimin. 

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you slept a nightmare-free sleep, your heart and soul as light as they'd ever been. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

oh gosh i agree so much with u on the intercrural part for isagi, had to search for the meaning as well lol

there are also others like him who are very careful (and they also find it so hot and dirty) : karasu, kunigami, sae, and chigiri who at the same time does not want a child

that was so hot thinking abt it ngl pls indulge more on this even if it's just isagi thank you very much

as much as i want the others like nagi, shidou, rin, aiku, etc. to like this, i fear some of them would just simply prefer p in v after minutes of intercrural, cough, aiku , cough, and nagi who become very impatient (and shidou i think does not mind a child lol)

jfjfdsfsdfkjsd i did not know it was such an unknown word it is in tags a lot on ao3 but yes intercrural = thigh fucking

i think there are probably several bluelock men who find it hot for different reasons. the only people i would switch is oliver and sae on these lists jkfsdkj. disregarding the risk of pregnancy in general tho bc i <3 birth control and contraceptives etc

i think oliver is like. a certifiable, tried-and-true FREAK. like in the traditional sexual way, that guy is really loose with sex and he likes to get into some freaky shit. i always say this but he sluts around for the love of the game, so while he definitely wants to be putting his dick somewhere

he can and does get very into thigh fucking because of the like,, teasing element. him and isagi are kind of the same in the sense they both do it so hard and so long - you end up desperately begging them to just fuck you already because of how frustrating it is and just how much they seem to like it.

isagi fucks your thighs less intentionally. he's just trying to get as much sexual contact as he can after his dick feels like it's going to implode. its usually after foreplay - when he's used his mouth for long enough that your thighs and pussy are embarassingly soaked and it feels especially nice for him to fuck through them. does it while laying behind you, very intimate - but very, very intense because he's basically grinding against your pussy. squishing your thighs together so much that that it feels like he's fucking through them. head against your shoulder, panting - precum covering your legs like he's just into It.

but you really, desperately want him to fuck you and he just. keeps saying to give him a little longer.

oliver does this one purpose but he likes doing it from above so he can see his dick reach through the other side when he does it. and he probably does it after fingering you like he's going to fuck you but then not going quite there. he just kind of... holds you. presses against you like you're going to get fucked and then... doesnt it. and it does feel good because he's using that same brutal, rough pace he does when he fucks you. the longer he does it, the wetter and slicker it gets the better it feels. so then, he keeps doing it because it feels good. he thinks its cute also, watching you go back and forth before finally caving bc you want him to Fuck you.

i think sae in general prefers giving u the most stimulation as much as he can if he's gonna have sex. he can be teasing if he wants to be, but overall - he likes to sitmulate you again and again and again and mess with your head that way. but he does all that so ultimately you'll be so wet it feels like you don't resist his cock at all. doubly bc i think his dick is Big.

this is too long to be talking about thighfucking. but ye dsjsdjk

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate

joel x f! reader

my little contribution to kinktober. a teasing/denial fic that i originally wrote for butcher (the boys) but joelified bc he's so daddy. nsfw under the cut. sorry i've been mia

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” joel flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold-

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt.

“use y’words, chatterbox.”

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know joel, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-joel. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes.

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping.

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest.

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying.

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly.

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek.

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i?

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! 

taglist (lmk if u wanna be taken off, no hard feelings): @imherefordeanandbones , @theywhowriteandknowthings , @josephquinnswhore , @millerscoffee , @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio , @pedrosaidsheispunk , @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel , @mandoisapunk , @bastardmandennis , @pawnshopb1ues,

dividers by @cafekitsune (the best.)

[gortash-week]

hello gortash nation. it is i, host of this week @sankttealeaf here! gortash week may "officially" be over but that means nothing when the archduke wants more! (he will not stop until he has more, please i miss my family he's keeping me locked away in wyrms rock prison and is making me dance for his amusement! i cant dance! help please!!)

anyway - despite the event ending, i will be leaving the AO3 collection open until the end of august / early september for those who found the event a little later and want to make something for these prompts. time is a weird soup after all, we don't follow rules here!!

if you've made something and have thought "oh no! its not the day of the prompt anymore - i cant post it" PLEASE share it!! i'm still accepting submissions and i'll still reshare any gortash week work here & tag whichever day its for! i know some people found out about the event as it was happening and if the prompts have inspired you - please share!!! i'd love to see it!!

thank you from the bottom of my heart if you've participated in this event - whether that's making things or simply engaging with the content shared. it means the world to me that people found the prompts interesting enough to take time out of their day to make something for it. i had no idea this event would be as big as it's become and i'm so so so impressed with the wide variety of work made and shared!! everyone is so talented and i cant wait to see what other things you all make and write <3

as for the future? well, i'd love to run more events like this! i've mentioned before about a hypothetical "gort month" that would include two prompts per week, 8(ish) prompts in total. that way there's a loooot more time to work on things & if people wish to join halfway through it's a lot less pressure to do so! my aim for running events is to keep them as stress & pressure free as possible because theyre here to be fun! i'm also open to comments & ideas & feedback on how you (yes, you!) found this event so if i do end up running something else in the future it can be better and better! pls feel free to shoot me as ask (anon or not it's fine! be respectful though, that's all i ask<3) if you have any post-event comments you want to air and i'll respond!!

again, if i've missed any of your work you've posted, please send it my way! no message required, just drop me the link & i'll share it asap!! thank you to those who have done that already!! i easily miss things and i dont want anyone to feel like im purposefully leaving them out!!

thank you again for making this week so enjoyable! ive had such a blast hosting it and if i see any other events i'll be sure to reblog them here (for those interested: i've seen a wyllmancer week, a galemancer week (both on twitter), and a lae'zel week on here that i can't seem to find the post for to link to :( )

again - super open to comments and feedback or even if you just want to say hi! i'm way more active on my main blog if you're interested in hanging out there :3

thank u so much for this week, it's been so much fun <3 <3

[choccy-milky]

A few months back, I asked if it was okay to write using Clora and Seb. Finished the work - thought I'd lost it on my hard drive and a virus scan located it.

Not sure if it's sad or happy, but the basic premise of it is Clora getting frustrated/upset at Sebastian and Sebastian comforting her, Sebastian getting upset at a predicament Clora's in and Clora comforting him, and them both getting frustrated/upset and having to comfort each other.

If you'd rather I didn't post it, that's fine too, but just wanted to test the waters and double check that you'd be okay with it if I gifted it to you via AO3, or see if you wanted a sneak peak of it before posting it.

OMG im so happy you were able to find it and recover the work you did!!😭🙏 AND YES OF COURSE YOU CAN POST IT AAA I CANT WAIT TO READ IT!! you can DM it to me first if you want, but i also dont mind if you post it straight away on ao3!! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT SM AAARGHHHA💖💖💖IT SOUNDS ANGSTY WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT I HOPE MY HEART CAN HANDLE IT🥺💖💖TY AGAIN FOR USING CLORA AND SEB AND TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM😭

@sunshine-goblin AAA THANK YOU!!! im honoured its your fav fanfic AND ALSO THE LONGEST YOUVE READ BAHAHAA fr, when you say its as long as four books in lotr it rly makes me realize how insane i am😃👍 aw IM GLAD I COULD INSPIRE YOU TO DRAW MORE AND WRITE AS WELL😭 I was curious so i creeped you and everyone go look at their HL blog @sunshines-legacy your MC is so cute and so is your art🥹💖 as for tips on writing a longfic and brainstorming and motivation and stuff, my motivation was my brainrot and unhappiness with the canon story/ending LMAOO, and looking at the story of the game and playing around with what i was unhappy with/what i WISHED could have happened instead, was a lot easier than just coming up with plotlines from scratch. but something i highly recommend is just OUTLINING and making a timeline, one of my fav parts of writing was just putting on some cafe ambience in the background and doing stream of conscious type word documents where id just barf ideas and then worry about making it pretty later....like look at how many versions of the same chapter i have BAHAHA or like different renditions bc i couldnt decide if id wanna keep a scene/what order, so id make a timeline and keep smoothing things out until i was happy with it and whatnot

brainstorming is defs my fav part of the process and the most helpful part to me. just getting a blank document and writing stuff you want to happen without worrying about how it connects to the story, and then a lot of the times as i was doing that id just keep going and it would kinda tie itself together/id come up with a solution as i was writing / once the ideas kept flowing. so basically : TIMELINES AND OUTLINES I VERY MUCH RECOMMEND, but very low pressure and barebones ones. for example, this is what my outlines/brainstorming look like

its honestly just me talking to myself LMAO, and a lot of the time ill interject and be like "OH YEAH AND THEN THIS CAN HAPPEN" as the ideas come while im writing BAHAHA. its a super fun process and honestly nothing feels better than just getting hit with that flash of inspo, and since its all very low effort theres no pressure to actually write well and its just a chill fun time AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR OWN PROCESS / WRITING💖💖💖it can be difficult but HOPE U HAVE FUN TOO💖💖

@a-little-lysdexic WAIT REALLY?? LMFAOO OMG THATS CRAZY....SAME BRAIN...🤝🤝...that would trip me up so much if i were you omg BAHHAHA but aside from having similar tastes in names, IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART AS WELL, TYY💖💖💖

THANK YOUUU im glad you're liking it!!! and that its taking over your life BAHAHA💖💖 the video you're thinking of was by @silverxstardust for chapter 13 of my fic, and you can watch the video here! (AND TY AGAIN TO SILVERXSTARDUST FOR DOING THIS!)

[somepsychopomp]

King of Ogygia

So yeah this is my AU where Calypso successfully brainwashes Ody into being her pet man. I'm hoping to post the full fic to Ao3 at some point in the future but for now, here's the first 3 chapters condensed into 1 part. Also this is a rough draft so if u see any typos, no u don't.

+++

Summary: Every day for the past seven years, Odysseus had spent his time living in paradise with his beautiful wife. Calypso provides all that he asks and he gives his whole heart to her, as well.

Yes, she's a bit... demanding. But she is a goddess and he is only a man. It must be expected that, in exchange for such a wonderful life, there's some discomfort along the way.

Word Count: Approx. 5.8k

(WARNING FOR: on-screen SA, though brief, and some other depictions of domestic abuse.)

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Ogygia was a beautiful island, if not small. One could wake up at dawn, walk along the soft, white sand that met the sea, and return to the spot he started at by dusk. 

Which was what he was doing. He’d asked his kindly wife to let him wander the shores on his own for once, wasn’t he finally ready?

When asked why he felt compelled to do so, he merely said he’d like some time and silence to think and to enjoy all the sights their home had to offer. After all, while she had gardens to tend to and tapestries to weave, he had little in terms of industry to keep his hands occupied. Whenever their sprawling home was damaged, he did not have to take up nails or a hammer to mend it, for his wife could repair any damage from rain or wind with a deft flick of her wrist. Nothing in her paradise could ever be broken.

She let him go, on the condition that he return by nightfall and not a moment later. 

He understood her warning well, that there would be punishment if he disobeyed his dearest wife. So he packed a rucksack with enough food to serve as a midday meal and a waterskin, his sandals at the bottom of the bag, and set off at dawn. 

It only took about half a day to reach the far side of the island. Here, the sand was still soft and white, but it grew cold under the shadow of the island’s mountain. 

What Ogygia lacked in size, it made up for in splendid geography. Beyond the beaches, there was a ring of wooded land where all sorts of strange plants bloomed and where beautiful birds sang. And at the center of the island, a small mountain peak. The most magnificent thing about it was that the mountain was hollow; within its sprawling caverns hid a beautiful palace adorned with marble columns and balconies overlooking the sea from every angle. The mountain’s face was adorned with neat stone paths, creeks, fountains, gardens, gazebos and arches. Though it was a struggle to memorize all the routes, once he had them in his mind, he found it quite easy to go anywhere he wanted on the island. 

This side of Ogygia though… it held somewhat less of a splendid sight. 

A massive series of cliffs rose high over his head, nearly as tall as the mountain itself. The sheer rock, exposed to the wind and other elements, was a dull gray color. For the longest time, his wife had refused to bring him here, insisting there was nothing worth looking at. But he saw. 

He saw the nests the seabirds made on the cliff ledges, could occasionally hear their cries. He’d yet to find any fledglings, leaving him to wonder if they had their offspring somewhere far away. 

And there were tide pools in the shadows of the cliffs, who hosted an endless supply of little creatures to find. He had to be careful, though. At low tide, it was easy to walk out and find the secret entrances to underwater caves where more adventure awaited. Though they tempted him, his wife told him firmly to never venture there. She would not let him be caught by the high tide.

So he sat with his back to the sheer rock as he unwrapped and ate his salted fish, fresh bread, and honied dates, sipping his water as he watched the seabirds glide toward the horizon. Though he’d been walking for hours, he didn’t wait to pack away his belongings and continue on his way. If his wife found out he’d lingered on the far side of the island, she’d surely grow upset. 

After about an hour, his feet began to ache from walking barefoot all day. He stopped to pull a hefty branch from a wiry tree by the beach and used it as a walking stick. His discomfort wasn’t to the point where he would want to don his sandals, so he kept walking. In truth, he wasn’t sure he’d done much thinking on this little trek of his. Mostly he thought of nothing, observing the lapping waves and enjoyed the silence that came with isolation. 

After another hour or so, he shivered and came to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised and yet relieved to see no one there. 

What was this strange feeling that compelled him to stop? 

It almost felt like he was being watched, but he knew what it felt like to have his wife’s eyes on him. Beyond gardening, weaving, cooking, singing, dancing, and reciting poetry, his wife’s most favorite activity was to keep him within her sights. 

Maybe if he had more time, he’d investigate. The forest, while lacking much complexity in its design, had fewer pathways than the mountain and it was easy to feel lost among the trees and foliage. He would’ve liked to venture outward. Perhaps there was some curious little creature his wife had yet to mention to him…

Making his choice, he tapped his walking stick against the sand and kept walking along the beach. He knew his wife would have dinner ready by sunset and did not want to disappoint her. 

He kept rubbing the back of his neck as he walked, still bothered by the thought that something was watching him. Which was likely, all things considered. A number of animals also called the island their home. Some, like the rabbits and wild goats, he used to hunt freely. Ogygia was fully under his wife’s control, so the populations never seemed to dip as a result of his hunting. Though lately, he set traps and pursued prey less and less. There wasn’t much thrill in it, not like his occasional dream of a massive, wild boar charging at him. 

With the sun sinking beyond the horizon, the air much cooler than midday but not unbearably so, he came around the final bend and upon the pathway that’d take him up the mountain at a gentle slope. 

He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his walking stick. “What?” 

And then he was running. 

He ran past the pathway that would take him home and dropped to his knees before the prone figure lying face down in the sand. Whoever they were, they didn’t respond as he touched their shoulder. Their face was obscured by long, brown hair and most of their body was covered by a ragged, wet chlamys. Fearing that, somehow, a corpse had washed up on their isle, he turned the body over with a grunt. 

His eyes widened. It was a woman. Even with her hair a tangled mess, her skin having taken on a sickly pale pallor, he could tell she was beautiful. She had the angular nose and jaw of a proud, stately woman, coupled with a kind of serene grace to her soft lips. 

He pressed his ear to her chest in the hopes she was alive. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he could hear anything. But faintly, very faintly, he made out a dull beat like a distant drum. He breathed a sigh of relief and fetched the water skin from his bag. Gently, he brushed the sand from the woman’s face and hefted her head and neck onto his knees. He was careful to let only a thin trickle of water into her mouth to avoid choking her. He stroked the length of her throat to coax her to swallow. 

At last, the stranger stirred. She coughed, then groaned. He could hear the rasp in her voice and said, “Please, drink more.”

Though she didn’t open her eyes, she slowly drank more water. 

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, unsure if she could hear him, “My wife is a healer, she’ll be able to mend you.”

He hurried to slip on his sandals before hefting the woman into his arms. Though he wasn’t a strong man, he found strength enough to hurry up the path toward home. He followed the sound of singing until he came upon the outdoor kitchen where they often dined in the evening. 

“You’re nearly late!” a voice called, “It’s almost dusk. You had me thinking I would have to go out and-”

His wife turned around. Her supple smile fell from her face as she took in the sight of her husband, breathing hard and brow beaded with sweat, as he set the strange woman down on their dining table. 

“Calypso!” he said, “Come-”

She was in front of him before he could blink, her hand wrapped around his wrist. She pulled him even closer, eyes narrowed and cold. 

“Please,” he said, voice lowering to a murmur. He felt the hand around his wrist tighten. He knew what it felt like when his bones were on the verge of breaking, she did too, and she was merciful enough to spare him the pain. 

“Who is she?” 

He answered truthfully, “I don’t know, I found her on the shore. Can you help her?”

Calypso narrowed her eyes. She was always wary of strangers. 

“Why would I do that?”

He stifled a flinch as he felt the pressure begin to build. He was losing sensation in his fingertips. He said, “I was once a haggard stranger on your shore. You spared me, won’t you extend the same kindness to another lost soul?”

Calypso dug her nails into his flesh. Thankfully, she kept them short so she could do her work more easily. 

She asked, “You promise you only found her just now?”

He nodded. “Please, my wife.”

At last, she sighed and let him go. Calypso waved her hand and the chairs flew from the table. She turned the woman’s head from side to side, frown deepening as he fetched her jars of herbs and ointments from the storeroom inside. Calypso, ever the healer she was, rubbed some sort of salve on the woman’s chest. 

It was so pungent, it made his eyes water. But he stayed, curious to see how his wife would tend to someone else. Once, maybe a long time ago, she nursed him back to health as well and saved him from the brink of death.  

Using some hot water from the pot over their fire and a handful of herbs, she crafted some kind of herbal tea. Calypso blew on the surface as she delivered it to the table. 

He tucked one hand under the woman’s head and raised it ever so slightly so she could drink more easily. Calypso drip fed the woman, her face laced with disinterest. 

“My dear husband, if this doesn’t work, then this poor woman should be considered a lost cause. You might as well get to work chopping some trees for her pyre in the morning.”

After a moment, Calypso added, “Or we could bury her in the garden, put her to good use.”

The stranger surprised them both by sitting up of her own accord to go into a coughing fit. Her coughing had a wet quality to it, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the sea water or the tea. He winced in sympathy for her. 

“Where-” she began. Tears laced her eyes from how fitful her coughing was. 

He quickly said, “It’s alright. You’re safe here.”

Calypso shot him a look that he knew very well as a silent warning. He urged the woman to lay back down. 

As she blinked her eyes, he could see that they were the loveliest shade of green. Verdant like a field in early summer. Of course, not quite as lovely as his wife’s golden, immortal eyes, but fair enough for a mortal. 

“Thank the gods you’re alive,” he said, glad to see the woman was not as close to death as he was when he first arrived at Ogygia. 

His wife cleared her throat. “There’s only one goddess here.”

“Of course,” he said, daring to hold out a hand. Calypso took it and squeezed, refusing to let him go. “My apologies.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at them. “Who are you?”

His wife pressed her other hand to her chest, “I am the divine Calypso, queen of Ogygia. And this is my dear husband, Odysseus.”

Since his wife, wise in ways beyond that of mortals, didn’t seem interested in speaking further, he asked, “Tell us, where have you come from? Who are you?”

The woman’s eyes shifted from Calypso to meet his own. She sat up slowly, unblinking. 

“My name is Penelope.”

A lovely name. 

“Well, Penelope!” he said, “We have plenty of food here. And rooms, too. If my wife and queen is willing to oblige.”

Isn’t that right, Calypso? 

But his question died on his tongue. Odysseus had seen his wife in all manner of moods. He’d seen her happy, calm, solemn, and furious. He thought he knew her well by now. 

But the sheer venom in his wife’s eyes as she glared at Penelope was unrivaled by anything he’d ever seen before. Her hand squeezed tight around his own and Odysseus didn’t even have a spare second to warn her, to plead, to calm her before–

Not a sound passed his lips as a clear crack sounded through the still air. 

Odysseus only turned his head away so that their guest could not see him grimace. A sharp, throbbing pain began to radiate from the side of his hand, running from his thumb to his wrist and quickly spreading.

Calypso blinked and schooled her expression, but she didn’t let go of him, seemingly content to ignore the fact she had broken his hand. Perhaps that was for the best. He knew she didn’t mean it and it would be preferable to not scare their guest. He was sure she had survived horrors of her own on the open sea and did not need to witness more. 

Odysseus cleared his throat and put on a smile. “Ah, so, who else is hungry?”

+++

(SA starts here)

This was his punishment. 

Nothing needed to be said. Nothing needed to be explained to him. For all the ways he was a fool, he knew what he’d done. 

He brought another woman into Calypso’s house, even carried her in his arms.

Odysseus went through dinner without complaint, ignoring his injured hand even as it throbbed and hot sparks seemed to shoot through his arm every time he flexed his fingers. They were silent throughout dinner, Calypso uninterested in entertaining, Penelope hungry and reserved, and Odysseus trying to not mind the pain. 

They gave their guest a room, one far from their own wedding bed. He was grateful for this. 

Almost as grateful as he was for the sight of his beautiful wife over him, the curve of her bare breasts and soft hips visible in the moonlight. She’d let her hair down, her delicate braids flowing over her shoulders. Calypso devoted so much time to her hair and it showed; her braids were dressed with beads of gold, pearls from the sea, and streaked with a rich, lavish violet dye that came from her own garden. 

He felt the weight of her golden stare upon him and attempted to reach out to her, to pull her into a kiss, but she would not be cajoled. Instead, desperate, he touched her waist. She let him, but didn’t do much else. 

His other hand, his injured hand, was pinned to the bed by his head. 

Calypso moved effortlessly, rocking herself on his cock as she pressed her thumb into the flesh of his palm. Not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it was a constant reminder. 

He was never certain if it was a trait of the divine or just his wife, but she could do things to him. Make him do things, too. She could manipulate his body to her liking, just as she was doing now. Odysseus had no idea how long he laid under his loving wife, only that it was late into the night and he was tired.  

He craned his head back, taking labored breaths as he remained throbbing, leaking, wanting, even though he was exhausted and Calypso’s ministrations had begun to hurt.

He whispered, “Please…”

They’ve gone at it like animals until sunrise in the past, though that was mostly back when he was new to her island and still learning how to please his wife. She could be ravenous when she wanted to be. And while she could stir the lust within him with no effort at all, just a snap of her fingers, he was just a man. 

He caressed her hip. “Calypso...please…”

Finally, she spoke. “But doesn’t it feel good?”

Odysseus’ head swam. He wanted to rest. He wanted his wife to take pity on him. 

The thumb against his palm pressed ever so slightly harder, sending fire through his veins. He choked out, “Of course it does.”

“Don’t you love me?”

The pressure was unrelenting. Her hips had slowed to a ceaseless grinding. He gasped. “I do.”

At last, Calypso leaned down. He tried to meet her for a kiss. 

Her lips brushed against his ear. “Then act like it.”

She twisted her thumb into his palm. His hips bucked as his teeth clenched and his wife hummed in satisfaction. He felt so wet and hot, and tired. Despite the pain in his hand, a disorientating numbness had also settled deep under his skin. The air smelled of sweat and lust. 

It took a while longer until she was satisfied. When she was, Calypso settled against his side, her bare body against his own. He cradled her close. She traced her fingertip in circles across his chest before splaying her palm flat against his skin. He had so many scars and yet she still loved him, still called him handsome. 

Her fingers trailed up to his throat and caressed the side of her neck.

She closed her radiant eyes and sighed, “This is why I shouldn’t let you wander on your own. You always get into trouble.” 

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond. Odysseus exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, sinking into a fitful sleep as his hand and body continued to ache. 

+++

When morning came, he knew she had forgiven him. 

Odysseus woke up and was met with no pain and the ability to freely flex his fingers. The rest of his body was free of any discomfort as well. 

Such an amazing healer. He rolled over and kissed his wife awake. 

The sun was only just rising. Their gossamer curtains fluttered with the gentle breeze. Some days, they were both up early to tend to whatever needed tending. Other days, Calypso willed a soft rain to befall the island. The cool, sleepy weather would compel them to stay in bed all day long, lounging and feeding each other fruit and whispering sweet nothings. Such was life with a goddess. 

Calypso’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. 

He whispered, “Morning, sleepyhead.”

She yawned and stretched her legs. She suggested a bath together and he agreed, thinking he should clean himself up before facing their guest. 

There were multiple options when it came to bathing in Ogygia. There were a number of mountain springs where the water was always clear and clean of debris. Or they could venture deeper into the mountain, where a system of hot springs awaited them. There was also a plain old bath house a short walk from their chambers, it held a rather nice view of the island’s south side. 

Calypso took him to her favorite waterfall carved into the side of the mountain. As she stood under the spray, letting the water run over her face, Odysseus pressed his chest to her back and kissed the nape of her neck. They were nearly the same height. She stood a touch taller than himself, his gracious and buxom wife, and he only loved her more for it. 

He felt her hand reach back to caress his hair. He grinned softly. 

Without warning, she forced his head forward until he was under the fast-flowing water. Odysseus sputtered and murmured his protests against her shoulder. When she let go of him, she was laughing as he pushed the wet hair from his eyes. 

“Very funny,” he said. 

But the important thing was that she was laughing. Nothing mattered more to him than his wife’s happiness. 

When it was his turn under the waterfall, Odysseus had that strange sensation of being watched again. He glanced around but found no one else present, not even their guest. It was just him and Calypso, wasn’t it?

He soon waded out of the water as Calypso finished drying herself off. 

“So…” she said, donning a beautiful emerald peplos trimmed in white. “How are we going to get rid of our intruder?”

Odysseus froze as he rubbed a towel through his hair. He stared at her. 

“What do you mean?”

“Her,” Calypso said, as if even speaking Penelope’s name was beneath her, “We can’t have someone else on the island with us. You know that.”

Well, it was true that wherever Penelope had come from, she was never going back. 

Calypso fitted a golden band around her wrist and said, “Now, if you aren’t willing to kill her, then I’ll have it done by sunset. What do you say, Ody?”

He used the excuse of dressing himself to hesitate. Odysseus donned the iris colored chiton his wife worked so hard to weave and dye. Such a color was typically reserved for royalty only, but even the finest and rarest dyes could be made in abundance here. 

“Odysseus,” she said. 

He sighed. “It seems cruel to kill her while she’s helpless.”

Calypso approached him. He leaned forward without being told as she tied a silken strip around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. One by one, she slipped the leather bands over his wrists and laced them tight. 

“My tender-hearted husband, then what are we going to do with her?”

He wanted to ask why she was so against someone else staying with them on the island. Perhaps Penelope was god-sent to provide them with companionship. Why refuse her refuge when Odysseus was given endless kindness? 

But he knew the truth. Penelope was a woman, and Calypso as the resident goddess-queen had no interest in female company. 

“She might not recover from whatever she’s been through.”

Calypso gave him a skeptical look. “So you’d rather she have a long, slow death?”

“I’d rather see what the Fates have to say about her, before we do anything.”

She didn’t seem very happy with his response. If she wanted to kill the newcomer, Odysseus would have no way to stop her. 

Calypso sighed. “Either way, her life ends.”

“As you wish,” he said. It was getting to be mid-morning now. He should bring Penelope something to eat and drink, at the very least. Hunger was a terrible beast, and thirst just as wicked. 

Odysseus ventured down to the storerooms and filled a tray with bread and spiced olive oil, fresh figs, and ripe olives. He knew the water on the island was safe to drink without intervention, but thought it’d be more polite to offer their guest the opportunity to drink according to her homeland. He didn’t know much of the outside world, but was aware that the water was unclean and had to be mixed with wine to make it potable. He filled a larger pitcher with water and a smaller cup with wine. 

Penelope’s quarters consisted of a guest house at the foot of the mountains, shaded by the lush forest and complemented by a pond where a pair of white swans were known to frequent. He entered the front exterior, climbing the marble steps and venturing inside, where the far wall was hewn from the mountain’s very stone and dotted with uncut gemstones. 

“Penelope?” 

He set the tray down on the nearest table and ventured farther inward. He was surprised to find her on her feet, examining the tapestry upon the wall of her bedroom. Threads of sapphire and silver mimicked the crashing waves at midday. Her hair hung in loose tresses around her face, still stiff from saltwater. 

Penelope met his eyes and didn’t seem startled to find him in her quarters. 

“Good morning,” he said, “I’ve brought you something to eat.”

A little songbird had settled on the windowsill above the front entrance and was warbling out its pretty melody. Penelope followed Odysseus and took a seat at the table. He sat across from her at a respectable distance and pushed the tray closer to her. She stared at him. 

“Does your hand not hurt anymore?”

“Hm?” he looked down at his hand, “Oh, no, no! I’m fine. Please, eat.”

She didn’t eat. Her green eyes seemed cold despite the sunlight streaming through the windows. She pushed the tray until it sat in the middle of the table and said, “I feel it inappropriate to dine while my host does not.”

It was true that he didn’t have anything to eat yet. Most mornings, he fixed himself a meal. Sometimes, his wife joined him. But being a goddess, she didn’t have quite the same need for food as he did. She simply ate when she wanted to. 

Then it occurred to Odysseus that maybe Penelope was afraid. He offered a smile as he took a bit of bread, proving that nothing had been poisoned or tampered with. 

Penelope finally plucked a fig from the small bowl on the tray. She took a bite of its supple flesh and chewed slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. Odysseus chuckled softly. He knew the food here was perfect. As an island paradise, every bite of every meal was without flaw. It was something that took time to get used to. 

For a little while, the two of them sat and ate in silence. Odysseus was amazed that Penelope had recovered so quickly, when he had vague memories of being bedridden for days, or even longer, when Calypso first found him. He was weak, malnourished, and suffering from multiple infected wounds. 

Penelope was first to break the silence, “Tell me something, o’ King of Ogygia.” 

Odysseus cleared his throat in surprise. “King? Please, you misunderstand! It’s only myself and my wife here. And while she’s certainly queen, I’m only her husband.”

Penelope was silent for a moment. She studied him, her eyes narrowing before her entire expression smoothed over. She leaned forward and asked, “Where are we? I’ve never heard of any island by the name of Ogygia.”

He was beginning to realize that Penelope might very well make a full recovery. Which meant she may have to learn of Ogygia’s true nature, that no one can leave. But why torment her with knowledge she didn’t need to know yet?

And if she was going to die, she might rest more peacefully having never known the full truth. He pitied her silently, as he would never age or grow sick while he called this place his home.

Odysseus gestured to the paradise outside, “Well, it’s Calypso’s island. Her paradise. You cannot find Ogygia by searching for it. As far as I understand, it’s simply a matter of fate if the island finds you.” 

Penelope nodded in contemplation. She continued to study him. Of all the questions he expected her to ask, she found one that nearly made him shiver in the warm morning sun. 

“Then… if you are no god, where did you come from?”

His smile began tighter, more pinched, as he tried to answer honestly, “I don’t know. Whatever life I had before… I don’t remember. Calypso tells me I was very hurt when I arrived. I assume whatever injuries I had led me to forget.” 

He shrugged and added, “Or perhaps I was bewitched!”

Odysseus chuckled at such a silly suggestion and stood. He was going to take a walk through the gardens and thought the fresh air might do Penelope some good. She agreed to accompany him. He walked at a slower pace than usual to accommodate Penelope's gait. She walked slowly, as if fatigued already. It didn’t bother him, he spent the time pointing out the many beautiful fixtures the island had to offer. 

Past the series of stone arches draped in vines and flowers, the pathway split into two. One led farther up the mountain while the other led to another guest house. Odysseus walked right past it, ignoring the building with its overgrown ivy nearly concealing it from sight. 

“The bath house is up ahead, if you’d like to… Penelope?”

Odysseus suddenly realized he was alone. He looked around and spotted Penelope making way for the neglected guest house. He jogged after her, confused as to what could be so interesting about this place. 

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in the open doorway, gazing inside. He came to a stop next to her, but found nothing of interest. The house was as it always was, dim inside since the vines and ivy overtook the windows. The air was a little stale and musty, and cold. 

Penelope spoke softly, “You say this island is a paradise, but this place stands neglected and derelict. Why?”

Odysseus didn’t have an answer. “I’m not sure. It’s my wife’s will.”

This was the house she kept him in while he was recovering, however many years ago that was. 

“What are all the markings on the walls?” Penelope asked. 

He looked closer. He’d nearly forgotten. 

“Oh, I did that,” he said, embarrassed, “I suppose I was overcome with a little bit of madness at the time.”

The walls of the modest house were covered in thin scratch marks. Not erratic like an animal, but in neat rows. 

“I think I carved a line for every day I was here. I can’t possibly fathom why, though.” Odysseus laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m grateful for Calypso’s patience. I doubt most women would forgive their husbands for vandalizing their house.”

It was probably why Calypso did her best to hide this building from sight. She didn’t need it and Odysseus wasn’t comfortable being reminded of his confusing, maddening past behavior. 

“Come, there’s more to see,” he said, eager to leave. 

+++

What a coincidence it had to be, for a woman named Penelope to arrive on her shores. Calypso was certain it was his Penelope defiling her island at this very moment. The two of them acted as if they had never met before, but what if it was a ruse on that wretched woman’s part? 

Penelope could simply be biding her time, waiting until she thought Calypso’s guard was down to steal her man away. 

But Calypso was no fool. Odysseus was her love, her husband, hers now. 

It had made her stomach twist to see Ody carrying another woman in her arms the night before. It made her furious when he left this morning to fetch that bitch something to eat, believing Penelope was nothing more than a wayward traveller.

But Calypso knew better and it was up to her to protect her husband from any pains his past might bring. 

In a moment when she was alone, Calypso closed her eyes and concentrated her divine power. She was no mere nymph; she was the daughter of Atlas, a goddess of beauty and magic. Calypso searched her island for a host and found it in a songbird nesting in one of her branches. 

Ogygia was hers to control. All its inhabitants made up her domain. 

She poured her mind into the little bird and took flight, following Odysseus as he wandered down the path to Penelope’s quarters, bearing a tray of food as if he were a mere servant. 

Calypso watched her husband sit with Penelope and even eat together. It disgusted her, made her want to flood the island up to the guest house’s level so that Penelope could drown. But alas, her poor, foolish husband would be in trouble, too. 

Odysseus caught her attention when he said, “...and while she’s certainly queen, I’m only her husband.”

At least he knew his place. At least he remembered who he had to be faithful to. 

Penelope was a clever one, probing Calypso’s unsuspecting husband for information. She seemed curious about him and where he had come from. 

It could’ve all been a coincidence. 

But Calypso was no stranger to fate. She was stranded herself on this isle with no company for a century. The only other times she saw another face was when the occasional god came to visit her with stories in exchange for the ripe fruit or luscious flowers from her garden. But that was only once a decade if she were lucky. 

Then her Odysseus came. Her handsome Odysseus, who needed her hands to heal his broken body and broken heart. But he was a married man when she found him, another cruel twist by the fates. 

Now that he was her spouse, she was never going to let him go. 

Especially not when faced with her greatest challenge yet, another woman. 

Calypso took flight and entered a window high in the mountain where she landed upon the floor of her private chambers. She pulled herself from the body of the poor little bird, now dead from the strain of carrying divinity within itself. 

Her husband knew better than to venture here, to the zenith of the island. Calypso’s most powerful potions and charms laid hidden here, accrued over the many lonely years should she ever need them. 

Stained glass windows in shades of emerald, sapphire, ruby, and gold threw colorful, shifting beams of light across the floor, where a mosaic of the heavens resided. Marble columns lined the circular room. The tables and shelves here were all cluttered with sealed boxes and bottles, some glowing and others humming faintly with power. 

Calypso waved a hand and a heavy, wooden chest popped open. She rifled through its contents until she pulled out a bottle that fit in her palm. It looked as if it were filled with plain water, but she knew better. This was the end result of much trial and error until she had a colorless, odorless, tasteless, and lethal poison. 

She closed her hand around the bottle. 

“You can’t learn,” she said to herself, “You can’t remember. I won’t let you.”

All she had to do was mix this poison with their pitcher of water at dinner tonight and Penelope will be dead by morning. 

Calypso herself might have a faint stomach ache, but it was a price worth paying. Though she wasn’t quite sure of how it would influence her husband, she was more than able to protect him from death here. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promised. Safe from the world, from his past, from himself. It was what any good wife would do. 

+++

Alright! That's all I'm posting for now!

FYI, it's made pretty clear throughout the fic that something's up with Penelope & it's really clear after this part that something else is going on with her. Sorry to spoil the fun, but it's actually Athena in disguise. She's doing some recon on Ogygia to try and figure out wtf happened to her bestie bc she really thought for sure that Ody would recognize her.

[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs, pt 2

yall i hit 250 posts a few days ago so here's the Updated Version of my first post! aka ive read and posted a fuckton of buddie content since then :)

also i still don't tend to read long novel length fics very often so all are under 100k (most aus being 50-100k), and most oneshots are 5-10k words

best aus

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good. fast and furious au that sounds like it should be unexpected but honestly is more in character than canon

friends don't mean nothing to me (its us) by Kwills91. buddie becomes friends before eddie becomes a firefighter, and its just done ugh so well it was so brilliant. like seriously spamming my friend's texts brilliant keep chortling to myself abt it brilliant just ugh so good

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher. time loop buck pov where he thinks he doesn't love eddie back and its goddamn delightful ok

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. yep ive posted abt this one already and i probably will again jfcccccc

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

canon compliant (ish) feelings realisations/first kiss

to build a nest (to build a home) by Kwills91. (yes ive been slowly working thru this writer's entire ao3 archive and yes theyre all brilliant, so im only putting a few on here. go read them all). this one made me fucking cry (for totally unimportant reasons don't think abt why shush) its so sweet go forth and enjoy

the ebb of your tide by twobirdsonestone. firefighter convention in indeannopolis (how tf do i spell that) = only one bed! super fun super cutesy

call me hot and pretty by anon. honestly conceptually i thought this would be kinda cringe and it fully wasn't i was so along for the ride

short n sweet (can you tell its my favourite kind)

inappropriate use of federal funding by spotsandsocks. this one is so...teehee teehee very fun

last and forever by kwills91, post s8 ep 6 which is super cute

what would you prefer i call you by kwills91 (seriously go look them up already). buddie first fight but its adorable

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre. another fic where everyone knows buddie is married but buddie

friends don't by disasterbuck. so silly so fun so real honestly

an inch away from more than just friends by ummrys. if you too want sapphic buddie smut go forth and enjoy and yes it will make you gayer

anything to make you stay by intellectual_applesauce. teehee bc eddie notices something about green shirts...

angsty and happy ending

stay with me (you're all i need) by accio magic. yep i reread this one and yep im recommending it again they COOKED ok they COOKED

leave the light on (ill be coming home) by HMSlusitania. i could not for the life of me remember if id read this one or not before so i just read it again and it was just as good it was soooo sooo good.

that is by no means all of the wonderful fics ive read but it is the extent im willing to go through my ao3 history. pls also check out the original post which has plenty more! ur all welcome (its a mess of an ao3 history guys this post has taken me ages)

also i should maybe self plug? ive got two random eddie pov oneshots up under the same username but ill do a new post when i start posting my big hiatus fix it fic!