#even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

[autumnwalk]

Kalafina Anniversary Concert Review

Ok, it’s time for me to do my review of Kalafina’s Reunion Concert. First of all, a warning: this will be cheesy, a bit delusional, and include some reflections. I might also misremember some details since I’m writing this three days after the concert.

To start off, it was an absolute honor to be there and witness them sing together again. You have no idea how happy I was when I first heard the news of their reunion concert. Even though there are still ongoing issues, I’m so glad they pushed through with it.

I want to thank Sarah for helping me get a ticket. I’m truly grateful—it might have been impossible for me to secure one on my own. Also, it was so nice meeting you! And thank you for the gift ❤️

Sitting there in the Tokyo Garden Theater felt surreal, like a dream. Was this really happening?

From my point of view (I was in the arena, so my perspective was limited), I didn’t see any vacant seats. It was clear that so many people truly wanted to attend this concert. My seat in the arena had an okay view—not too far—and the energy was through the roof. It felt like all the hyper fans were gathered there! 😂 I had to stand up a lot and did so many gestures that the next day my body was sore. My creaking joints were complaining, but hey, I’d do anything for Kalafina!

Onto the concert...

Oblivious. An obvious start, since it was their very first song. The girls seemed a little tense; I could sense some awkwardness. Maybe it was just nerves at the beginning of the concert or uncertainty about how the audience would react. They didn’t need to worry—every single one of us there adored them and came to celebrate Kalafina’s anniversary.

Kizuato. A little shaky, and I could still feel some awkwardness. Perhaps it’s because they haven’t sung together in a while—or maybe I’m overanalyzing.

Mirai. It took me the longest time to remember this song’s title. It wasn’t until they sang “Mirai” that it clicked for me, lol.

MC: Hikaru was so cute! I’m incredibly proud of her; she’s grown so much and seems more confident. She’s also such a comedian. 😂 She directed the cheers by sections, and it was such a cute moment.

Hikari no Senritsu. This was the turning point where they really started coming together. Their on-stage chemistry returned, and it was a wonderful performance—I truly enjoyed it. This was also when I noticed how much Wakana’s singing voice has strengthened over the years.

Storia. I was hoping for this song, and they didn’t disappoint! Storia is one of my favorites because of how smoothly it flows, much like Hikari no Senritsu. Seeing their simple dance moves again brought so much joy. By this point, their chemistry was completely back. It felt as if their 10th anniversary was only a few months ago. Their little gestures—facing each other and raising their hands—always get me. Their singing also seemed to improve as the concert went on, probably because they were warmed up by then.

Ring Your Bell. The energy started to build here. A few people in the audience began standing and doing the hand gestures, and eventually, more and more joined in. By the later songs, everyone was standing and fully participating. It felt like we, the fans, were shaking off the cobwebs and remembering everything we used to do. I’m proud I still remembered the timing for the hand gestures! 😂

(Note: At times, the instruments overpowered the vocals, making it hard to hear the girls sing.)

MC: I have no idea what they said—it seemed a little stiff and serious.

Hanataba. The pianist surprised us with a little accordion performance. It was such a pleasant touch.

Lacrimosa. I love this song. The nostalgic hand gestures between the girls were such a treat.

Manten. It was okay—the singing was spot on, but this song has always been just “meh” for me.

To the Beginning. The audience was standing, full of energy, and nailing the gestures. It was so wonderful to see that we still remembered the hand gestures!

MC: Once again, I didn’t understand much of what they said.

Kimi no Gin no Niwa. Wakana was exceptional here. Keiko, as always, delivered a stellar performance. The little acappella part at the end was beautiful.

Sprinter. The emotional arrangement was stunning. Hikaru poured so much emotion into this song, and Keiko, unsurprisingly, was amazing.

MC: I didn’t catch most of what they said, but their warmth and chemistry were back. Their cute interactions with each other and the audience were lovely to see.

Hyakka Ryouran. I loved this performance! I’ve always liked this song—it feels like going into battle. Thankfully, they dropped the strange dance from the 10th anniversary. I do wish Wakana’s mic volume had been higher at times, though.

Misterioso. A strong performance that helped build the energy even further.

One Light. Another banger. The girls were on fire, and the audience matched their energy. My feet were aching from standing, but it was worth it!

Kyrie. The high-energy block continued, and my arms were starting to give out from all the hand gestures. But the arena was buzzing with energy and cheers.

Ongaku. A crowd favorite! The girls encouraged us to cheer with them—it was like a party. Everyone was so happy, and you could see how much fun the girls were having too.

Heavenly Blue. A perfect follow-up to Ongaku to maintain the energy. My back was aching, but I didn’t care!

Alleluia. One of my favorites, and it never fails to make me emotional. It was a bit shaky but still beautiful, with Keiko pouring so much emotion into it.

Encore call. The audience clapped endlessly, and we were rewarded with...

Magia. Hikaru nailed it! An incredible performance.

Hikari Furu. Not my favorite—honestly, I wish they’d replaced it with Kimi ga Hikari ni Kaete Yuku. Wakana struggled a bit here.

MC: I really hope someone translates this. It seemed emotional—Wakana even cried, and Keiko adorably tried to shield her from the camera. Hikaru’s playful attempt to recreate their poses from the pamphlet was a cute touch.

Into the World. Always a great ending song that brings me peace. One of my favorites.

Ending MC. Everyone was grateful and happy. A funny moment occurred when they made a mistake during their bow. They did not shout the same thing.lol. The audience laughed as they discussed what to say for the bow—it was such a Kalafina thing to happen. After the bow, they walked to the right and then left of the stage, waving to everyone. I was emotional by then.

Reflections:

I know this concert was surrounded by issues, but I, for one, am glad they pushed through with it. As a fan for years (since After Eden), who witnessed their 10th anniversary and then their sudden disbandment, I needed this closure. That abrupt disbandment left us in limbo and with a bitter taste. For years, I couldn’t listen to any Kalafina songs because they reminded me of what happened and how uncertain everything was.

But now, I feel at peace. Seeing them perform again made me realize something: I can finally move on. Not that I’ll stop being a fan, but I can now place them in a comfortable place in my mind. Kalafina might reunite again someday—or they might not—and I’m okay with that. I’ll always happily support them and attend their concerts if they have them.

Another realization I had during this concert is just how much the girls wanted to sing together again. You could practically see it on their faces—the happiness of performing together again, despite all the challenges. It was so obvious to everyone at the concert, and that’s something I’ll hold on to.

Thank you, Wakana, Keiko, and Hikaru, for making this concert happen.

[yellowsubiesdance]

ughh, gotta go to bed and wake up early for one more day of hell before my five-day break

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[gay-dorito-dust]

The urge to snuggle sylus while on his lap is insane

‘You seem comfortable on my lap kitten, rough day?’ Sylus asks when you practically draped yourself over his lap, nuzzling your head deep into his neck and sighing deeply.

‘Rough week.’ You replied, biting back a yawn that was desperate to escape from your lips.

Sylus smiles softly as he could feel the exhaustion radiate from your body as he sets aside his book and brings a hand to rub up and down your back soothingly, making you groan as you tried to snuggle closer to his side as if you weren’t more or less pressed up to one another. ‘Want to tell me what’s on your mind sweetie or do you just wish for me to hold you?’ He asks softly but he already knew your answer when you only held onto him tighter, the time for talking had long since left your mind and now all you wanted to do with the remainder of your day was to relax.

‘Hold me please.’ Your voice come out muffled against his neck as you allowed his warmth to lull you into a relaxed state. Your mind finding the motions of his hand running up and down your back reassuring and gentle, almost as though Sylus was concerned that if he put too much pressure you’ll break, which made you smile softly again the skin of his neck while closing your eyes briefly for a rest as you mentally thanked fate for bringing you Sylus…even if the circumstances you met months ago were less then ideal; However it didn’t stop you from being thankful for the man whose lap you were occupying as though your life depended on it.

‘As you wish.’ Sylus said as he thought about how hard you worked everyday despite knowing that he made more then enough to keep you both comfortable, but you weren’t the type to be satisfied being a stay at home spouse and he wasn’t expecting you to either, he just wanted to treat you the way you should and if that meant holding you against him after a hard day then he’ll happily comply. ‘As you wish, little kitten.’ He repeats as he moved his head to press a gently kiss to your forehead, lingering there as he felt your breathing even out as his eyes remained glued to the nearest door, silently daring either Luke or Kieran to ruin this moment of peace for the both of you.

Nothing. Not a sound, not even a little peep came from that door and Sylus breathed in relief as he made himself comfortable on the dark plush sofa, his hands now abandon your back to trail down to your waist to keep you close to his chest, pressing little kisses to you whenever he felt you shuffle restlessly in his lap in your light slumber. Sylus knew that work has its ups and downs, but as long as he was there to offer you some comfort, then he could only hope that he made the days a little more endurable then that was more then enough for Sylus to feel accomplished.

While it was true that money could buy anything your heart desires, but if all your heart desires was for him to keep you company while you rested against him? Sylus wasn’t going to deny you of your wish and was more then willing to fall asleep against the plush coach, crick in his neck be damned as he repositions you both so that you both could utilise the couch, grab the blanket he had draped across the back to cover you both as Sylus made sure to keep you safe and tucked in close to his chest like he would always do.

He hums in content as he felt himself began to drift off to sleep, promising to spoil you rotten on your day off tomorrow, maybe a foot massage would be a pleasant way to wake you up? Or would making breakfast suffice instead? Sylus shrugs, he’ll figure it out in the morning as you deserve it and even more if he was being honest.

[delirious-donna]

Hiromi couldn’t help himself.

He knew it was unfair of him, but the urge to keep poking at you crept over him like a fiendish manifestation of the frustration he often experienced in his own caseload.

He shouldn’t take it out on you. What a wicked man it made him. Hardly ideal for a man who claimed to lead the march for justice and equality.

You’re not someone to take lightly, confident in your abilities and rightly so. This wasn’t a rodeo you hadn’t ridden like a seasoned pro for years now, he should know better, and yet… he pushes back at every opportunity.

“Don’t you think you should…”

His words tailed off at the warning flash of your eyes, narrowing crossly on his looming figure whilst your nostrils flared. If anyone was a bull ready to charge, it was you.

“Don’t you think you should mind your own business, Higuruma?” Your voice remained cool despite the fire snapping and crackling in your gaze.

He stopped just shy of letting out a groan of pleasure.

Fuck…

He loved it when you held your ground. You weren’t meek like the other paralegals and legal secretaries in the office. Hiromi couldn’t recall a single insistence where you had allowed anyone to speak down to you. You treated everyone how you wanted to be treated, with kindness and respect, but the fact you didn’t suffer fools gladly was signposted well.

It made him wonder if you would be like this in other, far more intimate circumstances.

A workplace crush was frowned upon, not that he particularly cared for such arbitrary rules. You were both adults and who you dated, fucked, fantasised about whilst sat at their desk well after clocking off time stroking their—well, that was no one’s concern but his or your own.

“You don’t want my opinion?” he asked with a wry grin, already knowing the answer was a firm and resounding no. He was certain it would be preceded by a hissed ‘fuck’ if you weren’t being carefully watched by half of the office.

“… no. If I wanted your opinion, or even needed your assistance in any capacity, I would ask. Don’t you have a meeting in ten minutes?”

Hiromi chuckled. “They cancelled.”

“So, that’s why you’re pestering me. You’re bored and in need of distraction.”

Your voice warmed as you spoke, comprehension dawning on you that this little charade might hold more meaning than you had previously assumed. That thought was certainly more alluring than thinking him to be a menace simply for the hell of it.

His shrug neither confirmed nor denied your accusation, but the warmth colouring his neck right above the collar of his slightly rumpled shirt spoke volumes, as did the idle forefinger that drew a spiral atop your desk.

“Back to your little office, Higuruma, I am busy.”

He complied without further incident, whilst you watched his handsome, if not tired, profile disappear behind his office door. You smiled, no longer bothered by the tedious work task flashing in front of you for attention.

You really should take that man in hand a little more firmly, personally, perhaps…

That was your thought ten minutes later as you closed his door behind you, the lock snicking into place as his eyebrows shot into the dark of his hairline.

You couldn’t see his cock harden beneath his desk but you knew it was, and you couldn’t wait to make him beg you for the release he craved.

Hiromi couldn’t help himself.

[saixria]

The ICHBW live stream animatic is hitting me hard hours after the fact I’m not a crier but I’m actually tearing up. Now I can fully articulate what I love about Athena’s part. Athena’s character came together so well I love it and I think the visuals combined with a day more of thinking + discussing with friends really helped me better understand everything. Those last 90 seconds of ICHBW was the BEST PART OF THE ENTIRE SHOW. Ridiculously long Athena character analysis under the cut which quickly devolves into thematic discussion lmao

First of all, the expressions they have on the animatic makes it abundantly clear that ody and Athena weren’t separated. HER SMILE!! HER LIGHTNING SCAR!! ODYSSEUS’ EXPRESSION SOFTENED TO A SMILE AFTER GETTING OUT OF QUICK THOUGHT!! Odysseus definitely pieced together what she did for her right then, there’s no other reason for Jorge to show Athena showing Odysseus that scar otherwise. It’s like they immediately slid back into place like puzzles pieces even after 10 years. They’ve been changed in completely opposite ways. Odysseus the mortal has been turned to be less human, more ruthless, while Athena the immortal goddess has been turned to be more human, more empathetic. The latter partially because of Odysseus. Tbh Athena ever showing her face to Odysseus after My Goodbye and saying “I can’t help but feel like I’ve led you astray” is as close to an apology as it’s gonna get LMAO. The unresolved WOTM melody in the end is actually because their story together hasn’t ended, it’s because Odysseus doesn’t have to be her warrior of the mind anymore.

I once said that open arms is more than mercy, but treating the world kindly to lead to kinder souls down the road, to change the world for the better, and it holds true even more now. Odysseus is too tired for this. He’s just a man, he knows a better world is possible but he can no longer be a part of it. He can’t witness the better world in his short mortal lifetime, he just wants his happy ending with his wife. He doesn’t want to be Athena’s warrior of the mind anymore, and that’s ok. And yet, and yet he knows it is possible. He needs it to be possible, and he needs Athena to make it possible. Athena accepts it with a soft “very well”. That doesn’t mean they won’t ever see each other again, just that they no longer have that obligation of mentor-student, they’re just two old friends. They can rebuild their relationship slowly but surely with what they have.

Telemachus is the Warrior of the Mind now (AHHHHHH HIS ATHENA CAPE AND HELMET I LOVE HIS UPGRADE). From here, Telemachus and Athena are gonna truly fulfill Athena’s mission of “making a greater tomorrow” except it isn’t to turn the world more logical and ruthless like she once thought, but to make the world more empathetic and kind — she’s finally found what she was fighting for. Perhaps this is why the WOTM melody in God Games ended with Legendary — Telemachus is the new warrior of the mind. Odysseus fought for a world where his son can be safe and grow up kind and he succeeded in that. Far from war, Telemachus grew up able to afford kindness and empathy while also retaining the ability to be ruthless in face of obstacles — and now he can use this to change the world to Athena’s new ideal — where people held each other with more empathy — as Athena’s new Warrior of the Mind.

Athena’s verse existing is a sign of her reconciliation with Odysseus (in character might I add! I don’t think they’re the type to express their affection so easily, they know each other so we’ll that they just know), so instead her verse is there to expand on the show’s theme as I will be talking about next.

I absolutely adore the depth Athena’s ICHBW verse adds to the thesis of the show. I’ve always thought of epic as mostly being about how it was best to strive for a balance between ruthlessness and open arms, but circumstances only allowed Odysseus to become ruthless which was tragic, while different circumstances allowed Telemachus to be both. But it’s not just that. Sure it’s good to have a balance between the two ideaologies but what if we could make a world where ruthlessness wasn’t needed at all? What if we could be unconditionally kind and be treated with kindness in return instead of taken advantage of or hurt? Where, when given the choice between open arms and ruthlessness, people would choose open arms? It wasn’t possible for these characters, but it could happen someday in the future. If Athena and Telemachus can work towards that future so can we. So should we, considering we’re in a much better place compared to them. A friend of mine said this was a call to action to us in the present and I just. Have not been able to stop thinking about it.

Athena has always thought in “maybes” about her purpose. from WOTM to My Goodbye we’ll be fine to ICHBW. “Maybe one day…” -> “One day you’ll…” -> “maybe if I…” -> “what if…” it’s like she’s representing the future, the “greater tomorrow” of what could be, because as Odysseus said, she’s immortal and she will live to see it and change it. Circe saga has something similar — “Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road”, “maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer no more, or maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer more”. The connection of these hypotheticals “maybe one day” with a future world that could possibly be changed for the better by spreading kindness and open arms extends from Athena’s songs to There are Other Ways, one of the only times in the musical where, when Circe could choose between ruthlessness and mercy, she chose to show mercy and help them in hopes of spreading kindness to the world and making the world a slightly better place — aka a scenario that showed how unconditional kindness, “open arms”, could work, for kindness isn’t the inability to be cruel but choosing kindness even when you have the choice not to be. “Kindness is brave”, like Polites said.

Because of her immortality, Athena is the character who’s most connected to “time” in the musical with her time-related abilities like “time dive”, making people think quicker, having a domain essentially outside of time and space… She doesn’t just have a connection with the future but also the past. As someone who lives forever, she is the one who can connect the past, learning from past mistakes, to change the future: “To fall is to learn one way”.

Speaking of her connection to time, You can almost see that at one point Athena was the narrator of the story (see cut songs: full speed ahead demo and Ismarus) like Hamilton’s Burr: simultaneously an observer and a participant of the story. In the animatic of ICHBW she’s overseeing everything happening from her hour glass, wondering out loud from a meta perspective about the themes of the show, hypotheticals of what a different story, a different world could have looked like, and bringing everything to a close. It really feels like Athena is who’s gonna “live and tell their story” as per Hamilton, as always has been the case from burrthena narration days of Old Epic. She’s not just the bridge between the past and future but also between the story and the audience, by bringing up these themes on a meta level to directly tell the audience to make the world a kinder place, because we have the choice, unlike Odysseus who can only choose to accept his actions and move forward. Because she lives forever she can carry on their memories forever. She can keep telling their story over and over again to remind herself and others to change the world by showing empathy and open arms, and she will keep telling this story to us until ruthlessness is no longer needed in the world. The world where this is possible is not theirs but OURS. It is WE who have the chance to choose between ruthlessness and open arms and the show is telling us that, when we have this choice and aren’t forced to be ruthless, to always choose kindness and empathy. Like Circe, like Telemachus. So that we may impart some kindness unto the world and make it a better place.

“Maybe one day we’ll reach them and we’ll make a greater tomorrow then they’ll see I know we’ll change the world cuz we are the warriors of the mind!” — yes, they have reached us. We are all also warriors of the mind, doing our part to change the world for the better, to be kinder.

To me, one part of Athena’s character that’s never clicked for me was her motivation in WOTM. “Make a greater tomorrow” “we’ll change the world” why? How? What’s the point of including this in her song when it’s never come back up again? Now with the ICHBW verse, everything is tied up with a beautiful ribbon. She has always wanted to change the world for the better, and now she’s finally found out how — to spread empathy and Open Arms — and it’s inspired by the desire to help her friends, to prevent what happened to Odysseus from happening again, honoring him, just as how Odysseus tried to embrace Open Arms to honor his dead friends’ memories.

All in all, I’ve grown to genuinely really really like Athena’s verse in ICHBW. It’s so short but so effective at conveying so much. I hope that made sense bc it’s more a compilation of thoughts I had rather than a structured essay. Perhaps one day I will restructure this into a proper essay but not today for after all I’m- *gets shot

[jaeyunverse]

the fake dating pact

pairing(s): park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre(s): fluff, suggestive, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rich kid au, cruise au

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): profanity, making out, implications to sex (no smut)

inspired by: dil dhadakne do

summary: in which ridiculous circumstances lead to a fake dating contract pact being struck between park sunghoon and you.

note: i’m ngl i thought i’d reposted this fic but i’m not able to find it so here we go LOL the sunghoon brainrot’s been hitting real hard lately

masterlist

There was a slight chance Sunghoon and you had crossed the boundaries you’d set when you first drew up your fake dating contract.

Okay, agreement would be a more accurate word choice since the document wasn’t legally binding, but the two of you took its contents very seriously. Together, you’d come up with a few mutually acceptable ground rules:

no kissing unless absolutely necessary

non-sexual acts of intimacy are acceptable in order to maintain the facade

keep arguments to a minimum no matter how insufferable the other person is being

no bed-sharing under any circumstances

no falling for park sunghoon even though he is the epitome of sexiness

The last condition was total bullshit, but you didn’t have it in you to make him get rid of it. Your mom had already done an excellent job at pissing you off; the last thing you wanted to do was get into it with Sunghoon.

One may wonder what caused the two of you to make this pact. Simply put, both your families desperately wanted to set you up with people you had no interest in dating.

(Not that you wanted to seek a romantic relationship with Sunghoon either, but we’ll get into that later.)

Lee Saerom had organised a cruise across the Mediterranean Sea on the occasion of her parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. Normally, your family wouldn’t have come within 10 feet of the Park family, but you were both good friends of the Lees and neither of you wanted to give the other the satisfaction of avoiding the trip.

Now that all the powerful and influential families of Seoul were gathered in the same place for a celebration spanning over a few weeks, your parents thought it would be a good idea to find you an ideal suitor who would help their company expand.

Word spread that you were seeing Lee Heeseung, the younger son of the Lees and heir apparent to their empire. The rumour was entirely false, but you had to admit it was a genius move on your parents’ part. Not only did it become harder for Heeseung and you to deny the allegations, but it made the Lees consider a future with your family’s business.

As if you weren’t in a shitload of mess already, the entire thing had somehow turned into a competition with the Parks beginning their own efforts to set Sunghoon up with Ning Yizhou.

The minor problem was that Heeseung and Yizhou were in love with each other, and neither of them had the courage to tell everyone the truth. They were both too afraid of disappointing their parents and bringing disgrace to their families.

You supposed it was a good thing Sunghoon and you had no such qualms. So, before things could escalate any further, the four of you got together and decided to put an end to this idiocy.

On the third night of the cruise, Sunghoon and you announced your relationship. Holding his hand and giving him lovey-dovey eyes felt ridiculous, but you would rather stomach fake dating him than see a wedge form between Heeseung and Yizhou.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked.

Yizhou even pretended to faint while Heeseung started sobbing hysterically. You couldn’t believe he actually pulled out a tear stick and applied it to the underside of his eyes when no one was looking. You wondered if he’d purchased it for this specific reason when you’d explored Turkey earlier that day.

Overall, it was a pretty convincing act.

The Lees and Nings were furious, but you weren’t particularly worried. In fact, you didn’t even care. Your parents had it coming their way the moment they dragged you into their scheming and plotting.

It took a few days for everyone to calm down and for the festivities to resume, but things pretty much went back to normal. Sunghoon and you both got tongue-lashings from your families, but they didn’t make you two break up.

Your reputations were already in the gutter; forcing you to end your relationship after all that had conspired would have been the cherry on top of your disaster of a cake.

The pre-decided course of action was to fake date Sunghoon till the cruise ended. Once you returned to your daily lives and enough time had passed, you would cook up a reason to break up.

It didn’t take long for your original plan to go to shit. As it turned out, spending a week pretending to love the bane of your existence had proved to be quite the opportunity to really get to know him.

Ever since you were a kid, you’d heard your parents say a lot of terrible things about the Parks. You’d been instructed to stay far away from Sunghoon. An impressionable and susceptible child such as yourself had obeyed every order they gave you.

You’d literally been hard-wired to despise and assume the worst of Sunghoon.

The wall of hatred you’d built between the two of you began coming down brick by brick once you learnt the kind of man he was. He was honourable and good and down-to-earth.

Of course, he was a dickhead to you for the same reason you were a bitch to him, but the asshole side of him was more endearing than annoying now.

His snarky replies no longer seemed to bite, and there was always an underlying film of adoration accompanying them.

Perhaps, he’d grown to care for you just as you had for him.

You certainly hoped that was the case, since regularly making out with someone who couldn’t be bothered with you wasn’t exactly your dream.

To this day, you had no idea how you’d ended up grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your mouth against his.

Maybe it was because he kept reminding you that you’d lost a bet to him and you wanted to shut him up, or maybe it was because he hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt and his abs were on full display, the ocean wind ruffling his messy hair.

Nonetheless, something seemed to snap in him when you made the move. He responded to your kiss immediately and pinned you against a wall. Thankfully, it was almost midnight and there was no one to witness your less than decent makeout session on the deck.

The next ten minutes consisted of his hands travelling under your loose shirt, fingers grazing the cold skin of your abdomen. Soon, your shirt was discarded, and your legs were wrapped around his waist.

Sunghoon hadn’t bothered stopping even when you ran out of breath. Instead, he’d taken the opportunity to leave bruises on your jaw and neck. The warm feeling of his tongue soothing the spots where he’d nipped at your skin with his teeth had caused you to experience a burning need for desire that went further than the second base.

The amount of reaction he’d gotten out of you was embarrassing. Never had you been unraveled by anyone so effortlessly. He had to muffle the whimpers that slipped past your lips as a result of his ministrations.

If it weren’t for the fact that you were making out in the open and were at the risk of being walked in on, things would have escalated. By the time you parted, Sunghoon’s lips were swollen, his face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

His eyes were hooded and dark, and he was gazing at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek, fetched your shirt from the ground and hurried away.

You didn’t even know why you thought things would go back to normal the next day.

One look at him, and your legs turned to jelly. You happily obliged when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and whisked you away from everyone else.

Soon enough, you’d breached almost all the conditions in your fake dating pact.

You spent most of your nights together—be it hooking up, lying in the comfort of each other’s arms or just talking till slumber claimed you. Never in your life had you imagined being at ease around Sunghoon.

Everything else faded away when you were with him. He made you feel yourself. He made you feel whole.

“Hey,” you murmured while you were both swimming in the pool one night, the stars shining brightly in the sky. His eyes were closed and his neck was tilted up, the back of his head resting on the decking behind. “Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon hummed and opened his eyes, turning his attention to you. “Yeah.”

“I know we have a plan,” you continued, doing your best to ignore the droplets clinging to his skin, “and I know that we’re supposed to stop pretending after this cruise ends tomorrow, but have you ever thought about making this—” you pointed at him, and then at yourself— “real.”

He laughed softly and shook his head in amusement. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not joking—”

“Every single day,” he interrupted you. Wading his way through the water to close the distance between your bodies, he repeated, “I have thought about making you mine every goddamn day.”

He cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered.

Taking a shuddering breath, you closed your eyes and felt him press his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and passionate, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It expressed what couldn’t be said using words, and you realised just how much you’d grown to admire and care for this man.

It physically pained you to consider the possibility of a life without him.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled against his mouth. “I would say I love you too but I don’t wanna breach the contract.”

He chuckled and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, even going as far as to suck on it. “I thought you broke the last rule days ago.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face. You opened your lids and shifted to get a better look at his expression.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shining with happiness, and you thought you could gaze into them forever. You thought you could witness the grin on his face and hear his honeyed laugh without ever getting tired. You thought you could stand ground against anything life threw at you if you had him by your side.

You knew you could love him and be loved by him for as long as your soul wandered through the worlds.

“I love you too.”

[no-144444]

persistent perstering- c.leclerc

Day 13 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Ferrari drivers are persistent. You’re not looking for love. Too bad he is. 

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You liked your job. Ferrari was a good place to work. You’d befriended many of your colleagues, you enjoyed the travel, and though your work was challenging, you felt good. You were the assistant strategist who, granted, usually had better strategies than your boss, but you bite your tongue to keep his massive ego alive. If you could slap him in his dumb fucking face, you would. You liked being in the garage, well, you would if it weren’t for one thing. 

Charles LeClerc. 

Ferrari’s number one, Prince of Monaco, il Predestinato, King of Monza, the Ferrari driver. 

He was a pain in the ass. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy, he hung on every word you said, laughed too hard at all your jokes, talked too much, and he wasn’t exactly your type. 

Well, no one at that moment was. You’d imposed an iron-clad dating ban on yourself when your last relationship ended badly. You weren’t interested in the Monaco dating scene, and even if you were, you wouldn’t start up again with Charles LeClerc. 

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“Morning!” You called out to Carlos. The humid air made every piece of clothing you owned too warm, so you were in a vintage Ferrari cropped-tank. You loved your team, even before working there. Behind Carlos, was Charles, not that you knew that. Carlos smiled, coming over to you. 

“How are you doing?” He asked with a smile. 

“Fucking hot,” you chuckled. He nodded. “It's mad weather.”

“I know what you mean,” he nodded. “Charles’ here could barely stand getting out of bed.”

Charles stepped out from behind him with a bright smile. You smiled back politely, and somehow didn’t notice the way his jaw dropped when he saw you. 

“Ready for tonight?” you asked them both. 

“Ready,” Carlos nodded. “And hoping that you’re doing my strategy.” 

You chuckled and followed him into the paddock, Charles tagging behind you both. “Sadly no, but I will be on stand-by for drinks afterwards, first round on me if things go wrong?”

“First round on me if things go right,” Carlos nodded. 

“Well, good luck today,” you smiled. “Can’t wait for the sprint!”

“Thank you,” Carlos smiled and left to go to his side of the garage. 

“Feeling ready for today?” you asked Charles, trying to be polite. 

He nodded. “How bad can it be?”

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Very, very bad. Extremely bad. Awful. 

Sprint went like this; 

Lap 2: Charles Engine failure into the pits for a 20 second stop.

Lap 8: Carlos crashes with Norris 

Lap 16: Charles into the barriers. 

Double DNF with the feature race tomorrow and quali tonight? Yeah, you’d all be getting fined for staying late. 

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You sat at your desk, looking over the strategy for tomorrow, disheartened at your prospects. Quali had ended 2 hours ago and Charles and Carlos were starting at the bottom of the grid, and it was your job to get them back up into at least the top 10, if not the top 5. Finally, the ball was in your hands in terms of strategy and no matter what, they were going to listen to your calls. The team had all left 30 minutes ago, the cars were fixed with no upgrades and some understeer, but they were drivable. 

“Heading home soon?” Charles’ voice rang out through the empty garage. 

“Nope,” you sighed.

“You’ll work yourself to death,” he sighed. “What are you looking at?”

“Strategy is in my hands tomorrow,” you blurted out. “And I’m fucking freaking out,” You let out a sad chuckle as you felt all of the pressure on your shoulders get heavier and heavier. “I don’t know what to do now. Austin is always a fucking ordeal, and with teh Sprint and you tow trashing the cars we’re so fucked, and they’re finally giving me the chance I’ve been asking for and if I fuck it up they’ll never promote me, even though they know it’s less than ideal circumstances.” 

You took a deep breath as your eyes watered. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You can cry.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I don’t want to cry.”

He chuckled softly. “I think you might need to.”

You shook your head, taking deep breaths and wiping your eyes. “No, I-I’m alright.” 

Your breathing quickened. Your heart raced. Your mind clouded. Your ears rang. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

This couldn’t be happening, not in front of your colleague, not in your workplace not-

And then his lips were on yours? His hands in your hair as you sat there stoic and frozen with anxiety, he fucking kissed you. 

WHAT A CUNT. 

You hastily pushed him off and gathered your things, hoping he would just leave you alone. He rushed out apology after apology until you finally turned to him and screamed. “Leave me the fuck alone Charles! Not everyone is in love with you, alright? I’m Carlos’ friend, not yours! I tolerate you, because I fucking have to, because it’s my job, and because I’m a fucking professional! If you cannot extend those same respectful luxuries, don’t come near me Charles. Just leave me alone!” 

He stood there, shocked, as you stormed off to your hotel room. 

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You walked into the paddock the next morning with your head held high and a plan for the strategy. You knew what you were doing, and the only time you’d have to see Charles today would be on your screen in a car driving more than 300 kilometres an hour. Perfect.

When you got to your desk, there was a small note on it with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. 

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Dear Y/n,

I am so sorry about my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable. I panicked and I wasn’t sure what to do, but I know now that was not the way to go about it. I am so incredibly sorry, and I promise to leave you be from now on.  Sorry again, Charles. 

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A part of you felt bad, another didn’t. I mean, working with F1 drivers, you were used to tall egos on shorter men, with very little to back them up other than their money. You were sick of it, and to be honest, Charles just got the brunt of your anger because he was close to you, and he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

And I mean, it was a pretty good kiss. But no, he’s a dickhead, right? 

You huffed at your own stupidity. No way you were letting a man get you this confused about what you wanted. You didn’t want…? You wanted…? Fuck, what did you want?

“Hi,” Charles’ sheepish voice came from beside you. You whipped your head around to meet his eyes. “I just wanted to apologise in person as well. I am truly very sorry about last night, I put my own feelings above yours and took advantage, and I am deeply ashamed. I promise-”

And then your lips were on his?

How the tables turn.

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[velvetchrry]

━━━━ IT REMAINS

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x psychiatrist!reader

4.3k. after being shot in the head, johnny works with a psychiatrist to get his life back. **contains dark themes - read at your own risk.

It’s a tick.

Nine. That’s how many hash marks make up the upper margin of your notes. That’s how many times Sergeant MacTavish has rubbed the spot on his forehead where he was shot months ago. If you listen closely you can hear the pad of his thumb race along the grown out hairs of his mohawk.

It’s how he gives himself quiet comfort. When you ask him a question that makes him feel squeamish, he absentmindedly runs his finger along it. You’d have more hash marks if you deigned to keep track at the beginning of your session but this is only the first time you’re meeting him. You’ve also gotten farther than any of his other psychiatrists thus far. 32 minutes in.

His first psychiatrist, Dr. Williams is great. Phenomenal, actually. Old school, nearing his late fifties — he showed you the ropes when you started here. You thought for sure his calm demeanor would be just what MacTavish needed. He made it approximately 17 minutes into the session.

You’re not even sure Dr. Williams was able to get an answer out of him that day. You were here; heard the raised voice of Sergeant MacTavish. Watched as one of the Lieutenants who accompanied him dragged him out. Dr. Williams left his office a few minutes after that, pink-faced and flustered. The only time you’ve ever seen him like that.

MacTavish went through two other psychiatrists before landing in your lap. Why me? you couldn’t help but think. What could I possibly have that they don’t? You’re the youngest psychiatrist here by a mile. Fresh meat. A larva who has yet to transform, metamorphose.

He’s been staring at the same speck on your carpet for a few minutes now. You saw this faraway look in his eyes at the beginning of the session. Those piercing blues fogged over, mist on the lake. Pupils pinpricked.

His leg bounces slightly. Sweat glistens on his upper lip. Talking about what happened, bringing up that day is what has set him off in other sessions before. You weren’t ready to breach the subject until a few minutes ago.

“Johnny?” you try again, gingerly. He didn’t like when you called him Sergeant MacTavish earlier.

“Doc?” he says calmly, as if you haven’t been waiting in silence for him to answer your question.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?”

He sucks his teeth. Ponders. You let him. If there’s anything you’ve observed about his behavior thus far is that he does not like to be pushed, likely due to the fact that he simply needs more time than before. With a TBI like his, it’s not shocking. Memory loss and concentration issues are almost a guarantee. Along with the other symptoms he’s been experiencing — mood changes, difficulty sleeping, sensitivity to sound — and that’s only what you’ve been able to gather so far from his own admissions this session and the notes from those very brief prior ones.

“I dinnae want ta talk about it,” he finally says.

“Alright,” you answer simply. Calmly.

His shoulders visibly slacken at that.

You wonder if he expected you to push him. And, had this not been your first session, you may have. But not this time. He’s not ready for that yet.

He does surprise you, however. When Sergeant MacTavish makes it the full hour, you award him with an honest smile.

“This is a great step forward, Johnny. I’m proud of you.”

You look down at your slightly smudged notes, the air still heavy with the scent of fresh ink. Notes on Johnny’s sisters, parents, home. How he imagines his life in the future — back home to the Highlands, maybe a little cottage in the woods, walking distance to his relatives. Surrounded by family — a wife, children. Animals. Fending for himself and his family. Providing.

It’s… sweet. His fantasy of the future. You imagine in different circumstances he might have been an ideal husband. He has a protective instinct that drives him in everything he does. A wolf defending his pack. Maw dripping with the blood of those who would stand to hurt anyone he loves.

“Thanks, Doc.”

He scratches the scar again as he stands up. It’s still raised — pink flesh that draws your eye in. He waits for you, maybe the most awkward you’ve seen him thus far. You stand and offer your hand. His engulfs yours. He holds it tight, like letting go of you will make him slip out of reality again.

“Next week, same time?” You hate the phrase as soon as it comes out, making you sound like every movie shrink ever, but routine is important for him right now.

He swallows thickly and nods his head, finally letting go of your hand. You walk him to the exit, to the waiting Lieutenant. He goes without a fuss.

You don’t run into any problems until a few sessions later.

He’s agitated, but hasn’t told you why yet. You give him time, give him space. Let him work out what he wants to tell you. The Newton’s cradle that usually occupies your desktop is shoved in a drawer. Silence envelops the two of you, other than his ragged breathing as he tries to get ahold of his emotions.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been holding your own breath but you allow some oxygen into your lungs. You feel like you’re standing at the door of an airplane and he’s the one strapping your parachute. Checking for rips and tears. Making sure the deployment handle is secure.

“Johnny?” you murmur. Wait.

He rubs his scar.

“Lonely,” he blurts out.

“That’s to be expected,” you hum as your finger absentmindedly brushes across the large CONFIDENTIAL in red ink that runs across his folder. He hasn’t been allowed to talk to any family or friends. They all think he’s dead until the man who killed him is in custody and — while you have your disagreements on whether or not that is the best course of action for him — you don’t outrank the military men who made this decision.

“Yer the only friend I get ta see.”

You hesitate and realize that was your error as soon as his face drops.

“We’re friends, no?”

You give him a genuine smile. “I’m your psychiatrist, Johnny.”

“Said ya wanted what’s best for me. Said ya cared.” He’s agitated, fist clenched and shaking against his thigh. He strokes his scar in quick succession with his other hand. His usually serene, handsome face is contorted, as if what he’s hearing is causing him physical pain. He is seconds away from another episode.

“That is true and I meant it when I said it.”

He unfurls his fist but his fingertip never leaves his head. “So we’re friends then?”

You shouldn’t placate him with confirmation. If it were any other patient, you wouldn’t. You would stop this in its tracks, before anything has time to bloom. Cut out the dead root before it rots the rest of the plant. But it’s him — and you can’t be another in a long list of people who have failed him.

“Yes Johnny. We’re… friends.”

He beams at you and you think you see a piece of Johnny from before the accident. The golden retriever energy you suspect made up his personality. The finger on the scar stills.

“I knew you were the right one for me, Doc.”

You make it through three months with him.

“Bonnie flowers,” he nods towards the vase on your desk.

Lily of the valley, baby’s breath and red roses encompassed in a simple glass vase with a lilac satin bow. No note, but it was your birthday week and you figured one of your friends or parents just forgot to add one. You’ll figure out who sent it later.

“Mmm, they are.”

You level him with a look.

“You’re avoiding my question, Johnny,” you remark. He’s had enough sessions with you, become comfortable enough for you to be able to challenge him a bit. He sinks further into the couch and you sit up straighter, closer to the edge of your seat, not letting him run away from the question with physical distance. “Can we talk about this?” you ask his permission.

There’s a tick in his jaw as he mulls it over, eyes never leaving the flowers. You wait, unsure what his reaction will be.

“Can I say no?”

You nod. “You can always say no to me, Johnny. Though, it’s easier for me to help you if you say yes.”

He looks down at his lap, hands folded neatly. The hair on his arms escapes from his long sleeve a little bit. He rubs a knuckle.

“Ya ken I trust ya, Doc, it’s just…” he pinches his brow together, eyes shut as he brings a hand to his head. He hunches over slightly.

“Johnny?” his name lingers in the air. The physical distress he shows gives you heartburn, acid creeping up your throat. He groans, and pushes his fingertips so hard against his forehead you’re sure it’ll bruise.

The bottle of water is in your hands before you realize what you’re doing — standing from your seat and sitting next to him on the couch in your office. You offer it and he lets his hand idle on yours for a second before removing the lid and taking a long sip.

He sighs in relief and lets his muscles relax, leaning backwards into the sofa. A warm, massive hand settles on your knee and you startle but don’t recoil. It would set him back if you pulled away.

“I’m not ready, Doc,” he croaks, and the crack in his voice breaks your heart.

“Alright, Johnny,” you soothe. You grab the back of the hand resting on your knee and squeeze before standing up to return to your chair. “That’s alright. Take your time.”

A knock on your office surprises you a few nights later.

It’s late on a Friday night — you should have been home by now, but you had few things to wrap up before your week off. Notes to finish, information to chart. You were only slightly worried about Johnny, hoping one week off wouldn’t regress him any. At the end of his last session, you made sure to spend some time telling him that you wouldn’t see him next week. You emphasized that you’d be back the following week and would resume as normal.

There’s nothing you hate more than disrupting his routine. It’s been paramount to his recovery thus far. Last week his physician requested an MRI to update his brain imaging, since there hasn’t been any since the incident and it set him off. He only calmed down once you were paged and arrived — stripped yourself of any metal, put on two different pairs of ear plugs and sat vigil next to him on the scanner — your hand brushing against his exposed leg in a soothing motion as his head was inside the tube.

You wonder who could possibly be here at this time of night. As far as you know, you were the last one, but someone else could have easily had a late patient that you weren’t aware of.

The doorknob turns before you can reach it.

Johnny stands in the opening to your office. He is visibly distressed, sweat glistening on his brow. His fingers flex and squeeze as he walks in and closes your office door behind him, hard enough that you jump where you stand.

“Hello, Johnny. What brings you here so late? Where’s your escort?”

He’s still looking off in the distance as he approaches you. You hold your ground, tilting your chin up slightly to look at him. Now that he’s in front of you it’s easier to see how ragged his breathing is, how hard he’s fighting for control over his emotions.

“Do you want to sit?” you try again.

He doesn’t respond, simply holds his ground as you talk. His eyes flicker back and forth as he ponders something. Is he trying to use the calming techniques you’ve taught him?

Your fingers twitch, almost reaching out on instinct to grab his wrist. He sucks in a large breath, his chest nearly brushing against yours as he does. The hairs on your scalp tickle as you feel his exhale caress your face. Patiently, you wait for him. You’re used to this. Sometimes he needs a moment.

“Ye cannae just…” he starts then stops, pinching his eyes shut as he gets his thoughts together. He inhales deeply again before continuing, his voice more desperate. “Why’re ye leaving me, Doc?”

“I’m not leaving you, Johnny. I’ll be back the week after next.”

The line of his jaw sharpens as he clenches his teeth. His fingers continue to flex and contract, half moons indenting the skin of his palm as he does. The thin wire holding him together is about to break and you’re standing in the middle of the debris field.

“I’ll tell ye about it,” he pleads. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and you hold your ground. Johnny has never frightened you, no matter how many times you’ve seen him agitated. You know, down to your core, he would never hurt you — so you stay still, let him make physical contact. “I’ll tell ye everything.” He dangles the bait over you like you’re a starving animal. The thing you’ve been waiting for all these sessions. A thumb traces the slope of your cheek.

“Okay,” you agree, bringing your hand up to lightly hold against the one stroking you. You wrap your fingers around his and pull his hand off your face. “We’ll talk about it when I return, alright?”

Wrong move.

He snaps.

Before you can react, Johnny grips the back of your neck and pulls you firmly to his chest. His other arm locks itself around your waist. You gasp, breathing in the scent of him as your face is pressed tightly to his body. Your hands fly up to push yourself away but it’s no use. Johnny is carved from stone, immovable, statuesque. He doesn’t crush you, only holds you as his arms lock in place. Your stiffened frame moves with his chest, his rapid breathing competing over the sound of your own.

Panic creeps into your throat, tightening the noose. You know Johnny would never harm you, but you’re not quite certain the lengths he would go when he’s feeling threatened — and right now he’s feeling very threatened.

Fingers wrap around the hair at your nape as he pulls your head back. He kisses you hard and it’s a battle of teeth and tongue as you try to back away from it, remove yourself from the situation. You whine in protest and Johnny groans.

Finally his mouth releases yours. Panting, you gasp for air.

“Johnny… this is… highly inappropriate,” you wheeze.

He looks into your eyes lovingly, as if his stare could keep you in place forever.

“Kept the flowers I gave ye,” he breathes.

Your eyes widen in realization. “You? You’re the one who sent those to me?”

A wide grin splits his face. “My girl’s birthday. ‘Course I did.”

You try not to focus on the fact that he knew when your birthday was — something you definitely did not share with him. “Johnny… I’m your psychiatrist.”

“Yer my friend. Said it yerself. Said a lot of things, hen. ‘We’re in this together’, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to help ye’, ‘Rely on me, even on bad days’,” he leans in, nose pressed to your hair and taking a whiff. “Cannae let you go… no’ now.”

You try pushing yourself off him again to no avail. “Johnny…”

With both arms now wrapped around your middle, he lifts you with ease, setting your ass down gently on top of your desk. He brushes a stray hair out of your face. “Said I can ‘always say no’ to ye. I’m saying it now. Cannae let you go, hen,” he repeats.

“Johnny,” you echo, strained as you attempt to wiggle out of his hold. You try to keep your voice strong and even but it’s becoming more and more difficult the longer you’re stuck in his hold.

He shushes you before you can continue talking, a massive palm covering your mouth. “Know ye want it too, pretty girl.” His large knee forces your legs apart, bumping it against your clothed center. You startle and he chubs up — your jump barely moving you in the strong grip of his arm. “Take such good care of me. Let me return the favor,” he murmurs, pupils blown out wide as he replaces his hand with his mouth.

You try to push him away again as he kisses you, but it’s no use. You’d have better luck tipping over a skyscraper with your bare hands. Defeated, you submit — not by kissing him back but no longer fighting him either.

“Tha’s it,” he coos when he decides to back away. He takes you with him, sliding your bottom across the desk and supporting your body weight until your legs are firmly underneath you. Suddenly you’re turning around and he’s forcing your face down to the cool wood. The action causes you to screech and he lays his body against yours and shushes your cries, smoothing a hand along the exposed skin of your cheek.

“S’alright, pretty girl. S’alright. Nobody’ll ever touch ye again. Safe with me, always.”

A shiver races down your spine. Johnny hums in delight, his hips crushed firmly to your ass. His thick length is pressed against you and he shudders. Impossibly, he pulls you by the waist against him even more and wraps a massive paw around your middle to tear your pants down your body. Your panties come with it and you can’t help the moan that escapes at the sensation and sudden coolness.

“Johnny…” you start again, knowing that kissing him is beyond innappropriate but fucking him on your desk is a different monster entirely.

A few thick digits in your mouth quiet you and you gargle at the sudden intrusion. “Shh, bonnie,” he pacifies you, before wrapping his arm around your front and swiping a long stripe up your core with his spit-moistened fingers.

He braces your squirming body down with his large forearm. You yelp as he continues to swirl around your sensitive nub, the motion getting his fingers wetter and wetter as your body responds to his touch. He continues his ministrations with deft and experienced fingers that have your legs trembling underneath you. Eyes closed, you cry out in pleasure — and then come back to reality when you realize you’re about to be fucked by your vulnerable head trauma patient.

“Johnny! We can’t do this,” you plead.

“Why no’ hen? We both want it.” You can’t see him with how you’re positioned but you just know he’s doing that little head tilt thing he does when he’s genuinely confused.

“It’s not right, I’ll lose my job,” you whisper.

He huffs. “Don’t need it. I’ll take care of ye.”

A bulky finger slides into you and your knees knock together. “You’re my patient,” you reply, breathless.

“Gonna help me at home from now on,” he responds effortlessly, stretching you with another finger, continuing his slow, lazy pumps.

Home?

“W… what do you mean by ‘home’, Johnny?” your psychiatrist brain asks, waiting for your patient to define his train of thought like you would in any other session. As if you were across the couch from one another — instead of his fingers spreading you wide as your body is splayed on your desk.

“Home,” he replies simply, like the word should explain itself. A third finger enters you and you suck in a breath at the slight burn. You whimper.

“Pretty baby,” he coos, accent thicker than you’ve ever heard it.

Your nipples pebble but you attempt to resist giving him anymore physical responses. “We can’t do this Johnny,” you tremble — from his fingers or the situation you currently find yourself in, you’re not sure.

“This beautiful body is telling me otherwise, Doc,” he practically purrs, his fingers picking up speed.

“Please Johnny… I…” you gasp.

He rips his hand out and you bite down hard on your cheek to prevent yourself from crying at the loss of contact.

“Want more, baby?!” he beams, the sound of his zipper your only warning before his thick, warm cock rubs lengthwise against the entrance to your cunt, hard length massaging your clit as he pumps.

‘No,’ your mind thinks, but your traitorous body says ‘yes, yes, yes,’ as you draw in a sharp breath, legs pushing your ass back without asking your brain.

Johnny makes a pleased grunt as he continues, lubing his cock with your wet, pulsing pussy. You can’t help it — you moan. A sharp slap on your ass pushes you further into the wood and Johnny soothes the sting by hitting your reddening cheek with his sticky cock a few times in a row.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, keeping you in place but he’s surprisingly gentle. “Meant to be mine,” he declares as he enters you slowly. You suck in a large breath. “Only good thing that came outta this,” and you know he’s tapping the side of his head with his other hand without looking back at him. You whine and he groans when he enters you to the hilt, squeezing the flesh of your hip with the hand not securing your neck.

That’s it.

You’re fucked.

In more ways than one.

Johnny’s fingertips dig into your skin as he picks up the pace slightly. You grip the side of your desk, not bothering to stop him now. It’s too late for that. Arguments die on your tongue as Johnny pounds into you from behind, the bony protuberance of your pelvis hitting bruisingly against the hardwood with every thrust.

You resort to holding on as best you can as Johnny slams against you, like his anger is seeping out of his skin by doing it. The slapping of flesh and your combined pants sucking the air from the room. Johnny bucks into you until his pace gets sloppy and then he stills, pulling himself out with frustrated groan.

His hands leave you and you lay there, boneless, but watch as he drags your chair around the desk, cock bobbing and glistening in the light as he walks. He supports your weight effortlessly as he places you in your chair, like a delicate piece of china. He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, and you watch with hooded eyes as his arms come up underneath your knees and pull you to the edge of the seat — right to his waiting mouth.

Johnny swirls and curls his tongue around the sensitive flesh of your pussy, wrapping a strong arm across your lap to keep your bucking hips down. It stings a little, his solid arm pressing into the bruises forming on your hip. You pant and whine, unable to control the noises spilling out of you.

He doesn’t stop, licking and sucking until that little bundle of nerves can’t take it anymore. With all your strength you try to back away from his mouth but the effort is fruitless. Tears stream down your cheek, the sensitivity making you plead with him. “I can’t… Johnny please… please…”

He hums, the vibration sending a shockwave up your spinal column. He slows down but only slightly and you see stars, head floating as you cum on his tongue. He hums again and you shiver violently in reaction. Pulling back now, he smiles drunkenly at you and kisses your pussy before standing and lining himself back up with you.

Your legs are firmly secured and he throws your calves onto his broad shoulders. He teases your entrance before he lets out a sputtered groan. “Bonnie little thing,” he sighs before spearing you on his cock. You're contorted at an impossible angle, one you’re definitely going to feel later, as Johnny relentlessly drives himself into you.

Voice cracking, you can’t stop the sounds of pleasure that escape from between your lips. Sweat drips down Johnny’s brow as he concentrates. One of your hands grips the arm of your chair and the other finds your lower stomach, feeling Johnny’s cock push into you. The thick hair covering his muscular body tickles but it’s barely noticeable over the pleasure coursing through your system.

Your toes curl as another orgasm rips through you, and you bite down hard on the forearm braced beside your head. Johnny whines in pleasure, hips stuttering before resuming their normal brutal rhythm.

“‘M close, bonnie,” he pants. His motions become more flustered as he approaches his climax. The hand gripping onto the arm of your chair now curls around his forearm as you hold tight to him.

He releases, his spend coating your walls in thick spurts and he drops his body on top of yours. You can feel him twitching inside of you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

After a few moments, Johnny catches his breath and snakes his arms under you. He lifts you out of the chair and brings you to the couch he’s sat on countless times before, letting your limp form curl against his. He pets your head lovingly as you lay against him, humming softly to himself.

When you fall asleep, Johnny whispers his plans of the future to you. The house he’d purchased in the Highlands a couple of weeks ago is ready to move into. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. The plane is chartered, and you’ll both be on it. He’ll be able to last longer next time, and you’re going to give him the most beautiful family — together you’ve already started to.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

well, it worked

fuck the sadness out of me 3racha - written part 2

part 1 • masterlist • credit to op

genre: smut! smut with feelings, angst for han

word count: ~4.7k

warnings: crying, praise, pet names, daddy kink, size kink if you squint, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced han, han’s is very sad (this is your warning. not a happy ending.)

an: this is for @httpdwaekki 💕 and because i really wanted to write the chan one. hehe i debated on posting this after the whole anon debacle but i really like how it turned out and i wanted to share it. (sorry chans is so long 😬 that’s my mans yk?)

♡ chan ♡

he was driving as quickly and as safely as he could to your place. he finally had the chance to be with you. though it were under less than ideal circumstances, he didn’t care. it wouldn’t matter. one night with him and you would see. and he didn’t mean that in a ‘oh my dick is so good you’ll fall in love with me’ type of way. he just meant that he knows how to treat you right. to make you feel beautiful and small and fragile. to make you see yourself in the same way that he sees you. he had been waiting for this chance for years now. “i can not fuck this up.” he said to himself, pulling into a parking spot and getting out of his car, the fluorescent lights softly humming overhead.

he was already hard in his pants from the texts, and he tried to hide it as best he could as he walked from his car to your door. but the thought of you asking to call him daddy had his cock pressing painfully into his zipper. he took a deep breath and knocked gently on your door.

after a few moments he could hear your soft footsteps patting to the door. the lock turned, the door cracked open, and your cute face peered around the door frame. once you confirmed it was chan, you opened the door all the way and let him in. he shut the door behind himself before turning to you. you were looking everywhere but at him, embarrassed of the situation you were in, but not wanting to change it. your cheeks were red and tear stained, your eyes puffy. chan leaned down slightly to take your face in his hands.

“oh princess, look at your pretty face.” he said softly. your eyes finally met his, so full of love and a little bit of worry. “all stained with tears.. i hate to see you like this.” he said.

your hands found their way up to his, gently wrapping around his wrists. you already felt better with just him being here, looking at you like this, acknowledging your pain. you weren’t sure if this was the best decision, but you needed him. you knew he would make the ache in your chest go away, if only for a little while. and you hoped that it wouldn’t be replaced with a new ache. the ache of loosing a best friend. your eyes welled up again, tears threatening to spill over.

“hey hey hey..” he shushed, rubbing your cheeks gently. “baby don’t cry. i’m here to help, yeah?”

you nodded weakly, sniffling softly. “i just— i just don’t want to loose y-you.”

“sweet girl i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured you. “even if you decide you want me to leave right now. even if i stay and we do this and then you decide you never want to do it again. i will always be here for you. okay? don’t worry baby.”

“okay..” you agreed. “can you kiss me, daddy?” you asked, your big, innocent, glassy eyes looking up at him.

his body tensed, his hands that were still cradling your face, tightened their grip ever so slightly. he closed his eyes for just a moment, and took a deep breath. like a vampire who is doing his best to hold himself back from biting you.

“are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his eyes begging you to not turn him away now. you nodded, a smile already threatening your cheeks. “we can stop at any time. okay? you just tell me and i’ll stop.” you nodded again.

he leaned in, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. his breath fanned across your skin, your breath hitching in anticipation. “oh, princess..” he whispered before his lips pressed gently to yours. his lips were plush and pillowy against your own. the kisses just gentle pecks at first until he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. a small gasp escaped you and he smiled before slipping his tongue into your mouth. your back hit the wall of your apartment, while his tongue danced against yours. your hands balled in his black t-shirt, wanting to pull him closer. needing him closer. but the only way for him to be closer, was to be inside you. his body was pressed snugly against yours, your sensitive breasts pressing against his chest, his erection pressing against your hip.

he reached down and scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. he knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having spent countless nights here over the course of your friendship, though never a night like this. he expertly maneuvered his way into your bedroom, gently laying you on your bed. his kisses traveled down to your jaw now, his tongue licking at your skin. you were a panting mess underneath him, his brown eyes peeking up at you from under his mess of curls.

his fingers grazed your tummy under your pajamas as he gently lifted your shirt up and off, discarding it on the floor. your nipples pebbled with the sudden coolness of the air. his thumbs quickly found them, flicking gently back and forth.

“you’re so beautiful, baby.” he whispered against your skin, kissing your sternum. “been dreaming of this for so long.” he used his hand to guide your left nipple into his mouth. his tongue circling and his teeth nibbling. you couldn’t control the soft noises falling past your lips, you fists gripping onto your sheets. “oh your little whimpers..” he kissed across your chest to your other nipple. “you sound so pretty..” his tongue pressing flatly against your nipple before swirling around it. while his tongue was busy, so were his fingers. they danced up and down your sides, and down to the waistband of your pajama shorts. he alternated between teasing with his fingertips across your skin, to squeezing your hips firmly, in a way that made you feel so small under him.

he detached himself from your nipple, his mouth moving down your tummy, leaving a damp trail. he looked up at you as his fingers hooked your pajama shorts, pulled them down, and threw them carelessly onto the floor. he kissed down over your mound, his fingertips rubbing down the skin of your thighs. he gently gripped and nudged your legs apart. sitting back on his heels, kneeling in between your legs, his grip on your thighs tightened as he saw your pussy for the first time, your arousal glistening in the dim light.

“princess..” he exhaled. “do you have any idea how stunning you are?” he asked. though he wasn’t expecting an answer. your cheeks flushed with color. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he palmed his painful erection through his jeans.

his fingers moved to slowly graze up and down your labia, sending goosebumps all over your body. his index finger dipped into your wetness, gathering some and swirling it around your clit. you writhed underneath him, silently begging for some relief. “my squirmy little baby.” he teased. “are you needy?” you nodded, your whimpers morphing into soft moans which turned into louder moans as he slipped a finger inside you. “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“w-wa- want you..” you managed to choke out. your brain foggy.

“want me?” his voice had a teasing lilt to it, a smirk on his face. “but you already have me. i’m right here.” he said. he knew exactly what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. but you couldn’t. you wanted to scream at him to fuck you. but the connection between your mouth and your brain just wasn’t working properly.

“daddy…” you whined, rolling your hips in search of friction.

he groaned, his eyes briefly falling shut again. he pulled his finger out of you and brought it to his lips. he used his tongue to clean all trace of you from his skin. “fuck, baby. i was going to eat your little pussy but i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“please.. daddy..” you begged.

he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off. he knelt before you, his hair a mess of curls, his cheeks slightly pink, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his chest and abs. you had never seen your best friend in this light before. and holy shit did you like what you saw. you thought your eyes may bulge out of your head. you blinked slowly, trying to contain your reaction. you double checked for drool on your chin.

he brought his hand to his cock, pumping it softly. “do you see this baby? look what you do to me.” his fingers brushed over the precum beading at his tip. “you’re so sexy baby. so tiny and fragile compared to me..” he slapped the head of his cock against your clit, causing you to yelp. he ran it up and down between your lips, gathering your arousal and rubbing it into his skin. “are you ready, sweet girl?” he asked. all you could do was nod, biting your lip in anticipation.

he slowly pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to his size. you both groaned at the feeling, needing more. slowly, inch by inch he seated himself inside you. once he was all the way in, he leaned down and kissed you gently. “is that okay, baby? are you feeling good?” he asked.

“yes..” you breathed. “yes daddy. so good.” you could feel your wetness leaking onto the sheets below you, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your butt.

he threaded his fingers with yours, placing your joined hands above your head. he kissed your jaw and then your neck. “i’m going to start moving now.” he warned.

and he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. you squeezed his hand, moaning into his ear. “there you go, baby. squeeze daddy’s hand. you’re doing so good.” he started moving a little faster, the wet sounds filling the room. “so tight, baby.. fuck.”

you could feel that familiar feeling, your walls fluttering around him. “are you gonna cum baby?” he asked. “you can do it. taking me so well.. gonna cum all over my cock, huh baby? can you do that for me?”

fuck you were so close. right on the edge about to fall over. “you’re so perfect, baby. fu-fuck.” he was getting close too. you squeezed his hand, and the thought of him feeling so good because of you, was what pushed you over.

“daddy..” you mewled, your pussy clamping down on him, your body convulsing.

he continued pumping into you, helping you through it but also chasing his own high. his lips pressed to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“shit..” he whined. his hips stuttering. “you feel so good. you take my c-cock so g-good. been dreaming about this.. fuck”

“daddy are you gonna cum too?” you asked. your voice slowly returning after finding your release.

“fuck i love it when you call me that.”

“daddy please can i have your cum?” you were teasing him to help him finish but also, you really desperately wanted it. to know that you were the one doing this to him. that you were good enough to make a man like chan feel this way.

“fuck, i love you.” he said. and your heart swelled. your eyes filled with tears, the words hanging on your lips, wanting to say them. i love you too. but you couldn’t. your feelings were heightened in this moment and you wanted to make sure you meant them before you said them. but in this moment, you felt like you meant them. a tear made it over your waterline and down to your cheek.

he suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed onto your tummy. he looked so beautiful, pumping himself above you to get every last drop. when he finally came down he leaned in, taking your face in his hands again and kissing you gently. he could feel the dampness under his palm. “princess, are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “what did i do? did i hurt you?”

you shook your head no. searching for a way to tell him they were good tears. that you felt so incredibly warm and loved in that moment that you couldn’t help it.

“is this because of what i said..? baby im sorry it just slipped out.”

you shushed him, pulling his lips back to yours. you kissed him softly. “it’s okay.” you told him. “i just feel.. good.” he smiled at that. “i feel so loved and.. cherished.”

he kissed you again. “so it worked.” he said, standing up and going to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you up.

you were confused. “what worked?”

he gently wiped at your skin with the damp cloth. “i fucked the sadness out you.” he chuckled.

•••

♡ changbin ♡

he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, nodding bye to the guys as he opened the door. they had asked if he wanted to go get something to eat and were shocked when he said no. changbin, saying no to food? what’s gotten into him they had asked. but what they didn’t know is he had asked you to go for food and you had denied him. instead telling him how down you felt. and all thoughts of food left his mind. because you needed him. you were sad. and you may have suggested something else, joking or not, he wasn’t passing up this opportunity with you to go get food with the guys instead. they would understand.

he made his way across town, which wasn’t too difficult at this hour. it was early in the morning and there was little to no traffic. now that he thought about it, he was surprised that you were awake. he hoped that you weren’t feeling too sad to sleep. just the thought of that broke his heart. he was determined to make it better for you. he would do anything he could to make you smile.

your apartment complex was quiet. he tiptoed up the stairs, doing his best to not disturb your neighbors, knocking quietly on your door. you opened it cautiously. but upon seeing who was at your door, you flung it wide open, excited to see him. but not nearly as excited as he was to see you. stepping inside, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. the door softly closed and latched shut behind him as he gently spun you in a circle, burying his face in your hair.

“my little bunny..” he said, a hint of worry in his voice as he sat you down. he looked down at you, your eyes puffy and bloodshot, cute little sniffles coming from your nose. he petted your head. “are you doing okay today, baby?”

you shook your head no, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you tried to hold back more tears. all you had done today was cry and you didn’t want to do it anymore. especially not in front of him.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked, playfully tapping your pouty lip with his finger. again you shook your head no. he brushed your hair over your ear, not so subtly admiring your neck and collarbones. he leaned down, kissing you cheek softly. “do… you want to kiss about it?” he whispered.

this time, you nodded. and just like the first time he ever kissed you, your stomach filled with butterflies, suddenly feeling nauseous. but all of that faded away once his lips were pressed against yours. his kisses were light. a quick succession of pecks against your mouth, giving you time to change your mind and push him away. but you didn’t, instead grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss.

his tongue found its way past your teeth as he slowly led you to your bedroom. the backs of your thighs grazing the bed frame as your back hit the mattress. his hands were all over you, pulling at your clothes, squeezing your flesh. he was getting needy, and that’s just the way you liked him. “fuck, bun.” he exhaled, moving his kisses down the length of your neck. his fingertips tickled against the skin of your tummy as they searched for a path to your breasts. they finally found purchase against your nipples, soft whimpers bubbling up from your throat. he lifted your shirt, bunching it up around your collar, exposing your chest to him. he kissed his way down, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“wanna eat you.” he mumbled against your tummy. “would that make bunny feel better? having my tongue on her little pussy?”

he didn’t wait for an answer as he continued kissing down, slowly sinking to his knees on your bedroom floor, your panty covered core level with his face. he ran his index finger up and down the soaked fabric. “is that what you want, bunny? can i do that for you?” he asked.

“yes please, bin.” you panted. he hooked his fingers over the elastic of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

“there she is..” he said, almost in awe of you laid bare before him. “so wet.. so pretty.” his finger rubbed soft circles around your clit before he used his hands to spread you open. he licked his lips once before he leaned down and flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe from the bottom to the top. he hummed in delight before dipping his tongue inside you. you writhed beneath him, unable to keep still with the pleasure he was giving you. he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly pumping in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot over and over. his tongue moved to your clit, flicking quickly back and forth.

you could feel it building. it never seemed to take you long when binnie was between your legs. he could tell by the sounds you were making that you were close. “binnie..” you moaned, your body shaking.

“i know, baby.” he said between licks. “feels so good, huh?”

he looked up at you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, his curly hair falling in his eyes. “are you going to cum, bunny?” he whispered against your clit, his warm breath hitting the dampness of your pussy, sending shivers through your body. you plummeted over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. your hands threaded in his hair, your legs clamping down around his head, grinding yourself against his face. he loved this. it was his favorite part. seeing you come undone, in such a state of bliss. he loved it. loved you.

and when you slowly came down, he kissed your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at you with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen on a man. he almost looked post orgasm even though he was the one delivering the pleasure and not receiving. you couldn’t blame him. you couldn’t wipe this stupid grin off your face, your pussy practically vibrating from the stimulation. he hovered over you, sliding his forearm under your neck, his large bicep next to your face. you turned your head and placed a kiss against the muscle.

“thank you, binnie.” you said, smiling up at him.

“it worked.” he laughed. “look at you smiling.”

you nodded, reaching for him. “now it’s your turn.”

•••

♡ han ♡

he could hear you through the wall, moaning his name. he couldn’t help but think that you sounded so pretty. which made sense, you were so pretty. han had always thought so. but he had accepted his fate as your best friend and nothing more. but was that the case still? he was unsure. he felt in his gut that this was wrong. you literally had been dumped only hours before and now you wanted han to sleep with you. it was not a good idea, that’s for sure. but did han care? right now the only thing he could focus on was his cock straining his pants and your muffled moans. he stood up, nervously rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. his cock softened a little with the nervousness of what was about to happen. but then you said his name again. “hannie..”

he put one foot in front of the other, exiting his room and walking the two steps it took to get to your door. he knocked gently but then felt stupid. you obviously knew he was coming, why did he knock? “hannieeeee” you whined. fuck. his hands were shaking as he turned the doorknob, your door creaking open. he peered inside and his mouth fell open at what he saw. you were on your bed, completely nude, laying on your back, with two fingers pumping slowly in and out of your pussy. the wet sounds of your arousal filled his ears now that he was in the same room as you.

he didn’t know what to do. he just stood there awkwardly, involuntarily grabbing himself through his pants. han wasn’t a virgin, but he was inexperienced and you knew that. it always kind of turned you on. the thought of teaching him exactly what you wanted, what you liked. and helping him find what he likes. you removed your hand from your pussy and brought it to your lips, licking yourself clean.

“are you just going to stand there?” you asked.

han swallowed the lump in his throat before cautiously making his way to your bed. you got up on your knees, bringing yourself to his eye level and reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer. you gently took his round cheeks in the palms of your hands and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his mouth. he melted under the touch of your lips, his knees almost buckling under him. your tongue entered his mouth, he tasted like sour candy. your hands started exploring his body, sliding up under his shirt to feel his tummy and chest, and then moving down to palm his erection. he sighed into your mouth.

you moved to pull his sweatpants down, but before they could make it over his hips, he stopped you. his eyes are huge and glassy, his lips slightly swollen from kissing. “are you sure about this?” he asks.

you move to kiss him again. “of course i’m sure, hannie” you whisper against his mouth. you pull his pants down, freeing his cock. you take it in your hand and slowly start pumping him. he groans.

“it just- fuck- it’s just, i really like you yn” he says, breathless.

“i really like you too.” you say, kissing down his neck, before pulling his shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. his skin was soft, his muscles delicately defined. you kissed down his chest, over his tattoo and down to his tummy.

“yn.. i mean..” he groans and throws his head back as you lick at the little patch of hair under his belly button. you lay on your stomach, his cock in your face. you look up at him.

“what is it, sungie?” you ask, pumping him slowly, teasing.

“this means something to me.. you know?” he says. “it’s more than sex for me.”

“i know.” you say, before you take him into your mouth. and he’s forgotten what words are. as you take him down your throat, he forgets where he is. his hands thread into your hair, holding it back so it doesn’t get in your way and so he can see your pretty face more clearly. you look up at him as you choke on him, spit running down your chin. it’s all so.. dirty. and he can feel the heat in his cheeks, his skin blushing a furious pink.

“baby.. i’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” he warns you.

you release him with a pop and pull him down to kiss you. his heart is beating a million times a minute as you get on your back again and pull him on top of you. his arms either side of your head, supporting his weight. he kisses you softly, slowly, a juxtaposition to how you were kissing him. your kisses were fevered and rushed and clashing teeth whereas his are soft and slow, little brushes of his tongue against yours, almost like he’s savoring you. his heart swells as he looks down at you. he wants to remember this moment. the moment that he finally gets to be with you. he wants to memorize every detail of your face and your body. wants to memorize every feeling in his body, the way you feel under his hands. but you interrupt him.

“fuck me hannie.” you say, your voice pleading and desperate.

and well, he couldn’t argue with that.

he wrapped his hand around his cock and lined himself up. he slowly pushed in, taking his time, savoring you and honestly, trying not to bust. you pulled him close in another blazing kiss as you started to rock your hips back and forth, encouraging him to go faster. he was trying to focus on your eyes, your pout, and not focus on the way he could feel your arousal coating his thighs, his balls. no, he couldn’t focus on that or he was definitely going to cum.

you pushed him over, finally deciding he wasn’t going fast enough. now on his back, you straddled him, sinking down on him. he groaned and then you began to bounce on him. riding him as hard as you could, as fast as you could.

“fuck. yn.” he whined. “i’m not going to last. you feel too good.”

you smile. “that’s okay, hannie. you can cum.” he grabs your hips in his hands, squeezing the flesh as he gets closer and closer. “cum for me.” you tell him. and he does. high pitched whines falling past his lips as you feel him twitching inside you, filling you up. his eyes are scrunched shut, his face and lips are pink. you continue to ride him through his orgasm, chasing your own.

he was getting overstimulated now, it was becoming too much but he wanted to hold out for you. you needed to cum too. “are you close baby?” he asked, gently grabbing at your breasts. “are you gonna cum on my cock?”

you close your eyes and throw your head back, moaning as you continue to bounce on him. and that’s when he hears it. he freezes, his eyes go wide and his heart shatters. you don’t notice your mistake, and you keep going. “fuck- i’m close.” you moan. but he can’t do this. he pushes you off of him as gently as he can and he stands, searching for his clothes in the dark room. he’s embarrassed, his soft cock in his hand, he was surrounded by you and he needed to get out of there. your scent was everywhere, coating his skin. tears pricked at his eyes.

“han? what the fuck? i was about to cum.” you scold him.

he turned around quickly, his clothes in one hand, his cock in the other, shielding it from your view. tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “i don’t care.” he said. “you didn’t even notice, did you?”

“notice what?” you ask, confused.

“you moaned his name while you were fucking me.” he spat. “clear as day, unmistakably his name.” he turned to walk toward the door. “i’m such a fucking idiot.” he muttered.

“han, wait!” you called, but he didn’t stop. not even a slight stutter in his stride as he slammed your door behind him, followed a minute later by the bathroom door shutting and the shower turning on.

[katnisspeetaprim]

Father Figure

Lucifer Morningstar/Platonic!TeenReader

Summary: You'd had a hard time in the sort while you'd been alive, so when your new boss shows you kindness like you've never seen, you can't help but be suspicious...

Warnings: Platonic relationship, teenage fem reader, implied drug use, implied sex work, implied underage sex, dead beat parents, assault, swearing, panic attack, crying, angst, fluff A.N; not sure if I will write a part 2 yet, see how this does!

Word Count: 3102 Hazbin M.list

Hell was a scary place for someone like you. Being a teenager in Hell was less than ideal.

Your parents were useless, always too coked out of their minds to care for you, so you left.

Due to your unfortunate circumstances, you had to resort to some... less than kosher means to survive. It was awful, but it’s all you could do.

One night, one of your clients wouldn’t take no for an answer so when you tried to fight back, things went bad for you.

So here you were.

Luckily, under princess Morningstar’s new work programme, all new sinners would be provided with a job to get them started, if they accepted the help that is. And that’s how you came to be the King of hell’s live in maid.

You’d finally found your way to the mansion, after getting lost multiple times. You felt somewhat intimidated as you stood before the large doors. It just now hit you that you’d be working for the devil himself. The thought made your blood run cold. Why would they give such a high profile job to someone like you? Maybe because you wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble? Either way you couldn’t back out now.

Swallowing back your nerves, you raised a hand and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately the door swung open to reveal a short man, who seemed a little too keen to interact with you.

‘Why hello there! Something I can help you with?’... Was he waiting by the door?

‘I uh- I was told to come here to work?’ You handed him your work certificate, and he quickly scanned it over before breaking out into a smile.

‘Wow! I didn’t expect to get someone so soon!’ It was only after Lucifer read the paper, did he properly look at you. His smile faltered slightly.

‘Uh sorry to be blunt, but you look a little... young?’

‘Well I’m 16.’ You laughed nervously. ‘Is that not ok? I promise I’ll be a good worker!’ Lucifer frowned deeply at your sudden panicked rambling.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to die young, but to end up in Hell?

He knew Earth could be a terrible place, but what could you have done at such a young age to end up here.

‘No no! Just me thinking out loud haha.’ Lucifer quickly backtracked. ‘Please come in.’ He moved to allow you to pass by, now smiling again. You entered, realising you were only slightly shorted than him as you passed by.

Maybe working for the Devil wouldn’t be as scary as you thought.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve needed a maid. I hate cleaning!’ He sighed out dramatically.

Over the coming months, you’d settled well into your job. You suppose you had it easy when it came to jobs in Hell. Cleaning was pretty easy.

Lucifer mostly left you to your own devices, thinking you wouldn’t want to hang out with an old man like him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make an effort with you.

The first time he approached you in the middle of the day, was to gift you a mobile phone.

‘Hey!’ He slid up to you out of nowhere, making you jump out of your skin. ‘Realised you don’t have a phone! Can’t check in if you don’t have one of those!’ You weren’t used to receiving gifts with no strings attached, But Lucifer didn’t seem to have ulterior motives, so you tentatively accepted.

‘Oh! I’ll even give you my daughters number! You two will get on like a house on fire!’

Another encounter was on an evening. Lucifer was finishing up his supper, when he aught sight of you scurrying round the foyer. He called out for you to come over.

‘Have you eaten yet? It’s getting pretty late...’ You couldn’t help but feel touched that he was seemingly looking out for you.

‘I still have a lot to do... I’m a little behind today...’ You trailed off, worried about being scolded for being tardy.

‘Nonsense! Please join me, there’s way too much for just me anyway.’ Lucifer insisted, jumping up and pulling a chair out for you.

‘Are you sure that’s ok?’ You asked, still a little reserved of his kindness.

‘Of course! Always happy for the company.’

Lucifer could read you like a book. He knew you were still nervous and skeptical of him, but he couldn’t blame you. He still didn’t know the circumstances for you to end up in Hell, plus you were so young, it would take a lot to trust.

Even though you worked for him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel protective of you.

One of the more recent incidents, was when you got hurt.

The house chef was running out of ingredients, so he asked you to run out and grab them. You happily agreed since you didn’t really have any reason to leave the house otherwise.

Ok. Maybe you’d gone a little over bored, you thought as you juggled the heavy bags in your arms.

‘Hey baby! Need some help with those?’ You looked over and saw a group of 3 men leering at you. You smiled nervously and said ‘ No thank you.’ Before turning round, hoping to get away without any trouble.

‘Hey do you know who your talking to? Don’t be rude!’ One of the men grabbed your arm, causing you to drop your bags.

‘Don’t touch me!’ You screamed out, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

‘We were just offering to walk you home lady, but if you want to get down here, that’s fine by us.’ The second man sneered at you with a smirk as he grabbed your face hard.

Your eyes widened at his words. You were now struggling even more, to no avail. The final man cam up behind you and grabbed your other arm in an attempt to keep you still.

‘Stop struggling will ya!’ The man in front of you spat out, shaking you by the arm. He shook you so violently, that the long sleeve of your dress began to rip. You took advantage of this. Pulling your arm back so hard, your sleeve came off in his hand.

The attacker behind you hadn’t been expected you to fall backwards, so he lost his grip on your arm, giving you just enough time to book it in the direction of Lucifer’s home.

You could hear them running and shouting after you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t far now. You just had to make it back to the house and you’d be safe.

Bursting through the main doors, you immediately fell to your knees and cradled your head in your hands as you hyperventilated.

‘Y/N!? What the Hell happened?’ Lucifer had heard the slam of the door so he came out to investigate. He hadn’t expected to find you having a panic attack in his entrance hall.

He was kneeling by your side in an instant, placing a comforting hand on your back. As he looked closer at you, he saw that your sleeve was ripped, with a bruise forming round your wrist. When you looked up at him with wide, teary eyes he also clocked some bruises on your jaw.

Lucifer’s eyes immediately darkened.

‘’m sorry I-I lost the groceries...’ You stuttered out with a shaky voice.  Lucifer’s face immediately contorted.

‘Y/N I don’t give a damn about the groceries! I want to know who did this to you.’ Lucifer was aware of how angry he sounded, but he was honestly offended that you thought he cared more about some groceries than you.

You cowered slightly at his raised voice and Lucifer felt bad. He took a deep breath to calm down before speaking again, much more softly this time.

‘Please Y/N, I need to know who did this.’

You looked up to him and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. You tried your best to get your sobs under control so you could speak.

‘There was a-a group of three rough looking guys not far from here...’ Lucifer groaned internally. He knew exactly who you were talking about.

They were a group that had been causing trouble round the are for a while now, but he never had a good enough reason to get rid of them... Until now.

Lucifer stood and extended a hand to you with a smile. You hesitantly took his hand and he helped you to your feet.

‘Go get cleaned up ok? I gotta go out for a while.’ He ushered you towards your room.

‘Ok...’ You trailed off sadly.

‘Great!’ Lucifer grinned widely at you as he opened a portal. He stepped through before leaning his head back out to address you.

‘And I don’t want to see you doing house work when I get back, kay?’ he tipped his hat before dashing back through. Then the portal closed.

‘Evening gentlemen.’ The three men from earlier swiftly jumped up from their card game, to see Lucifer leaning up against the wall, blocking the exit to the alley. They all immediately shrunk back when they saw it was him.

‘oh your majesty... What brings you to our hideout?’ Lucifer started to slowly walk into the alley, never tearing his eyes away from the men, making them even more on edge.

‘Uh-sir?’

‘So you think it’s fun to assault kid’s huh?’ Lucifer spoke in an eerily calm voice. The men looked at each other, now sweating profusely.  They all immediately tried to deny the accusations, but Lucifer wasn’t having it.

‘Keep your filthy mouths shut!’ His demonic form began manifesting as his anger grew. ‘You dare lay your hands on someone I care about!?’

The men were no longer tough bullies, but now reduced to a quivering mass with their backs to the wall as Lucifer stalked forwards.

A smirk appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the men.

‘What do you say I give a demonstration of how Hell got it’s reputation?’

Screams echoed from the alley. People knew better than to intervene.

Lucifer returned home not much later, making a bee line for your room straight away.

He was about to knock on your door, when he heard faint crying coming from the other side.

He looked down remorsefully. Maybe he shouldn’t have left you alone. He composed himself and knocked. The sobs went quiet and he heard a meek, ‘come in.’

As he entered, he noticed you’d changed from your maid outfit and now wore your pyjamas and dressing gown.

‘Hey Y/N, you feeling any better?’ He came to sit next to you with a comforting smile.

‘I guess so...’ You replied, though the defeated look was still evident on your face.

‘Well golly! I have something to turn that frown upside down!’ You were startled by his sudden energetic proclamation. ‘Ta-da!’ He pulled a small duck from his coat pocket and proudly presented it to you.

You looked over the duck, which had obviously been made to resemble you by giving it some of your features.

As you looked at the little yellow duck, something inside of you snapped. Without warning, you batted the duck from his hand and jumped up in a fury, scowl painted across your face.

‘Why are you acting like you care about me!?’ Lucifer jumped up as if you’d burnt him, his hands out in front of him as a peaceful gesture. He was stunned at your sudden outburst.

‘Y/N, I don’t thi-‘

‘Don’t try and lie to me! Nobody’s ever cared about me!’ You cut him off. You were getting more irate as you broke down into hysterics again.

Lucifer didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to speak.

When he didn’t answer, it only made you more angry.

‘What do you want from me!?’ You screamed at him, tears flowing down your face. ‘Is it sex? Is that what you want from me, just like everyone else!?’

Lucifer audible gasped at your outburst and took a step back to show he meant no harm.

‘Whoa kid! I don’t want anything from you! Especially not...’ Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to say it. Everything began to fall into place for him now. So that’s what you had to do back on Earth.

He was angry that you accused him of being that disgusting, but not at you. He could never hate you. He was angry that there were people on Earth that thought it was ok to take advantage of a child like that.

You froze in place. The way he was keeping his distance, the way he was making himself look small so as to not intimidate you... Then there was his eyes. They were sad.

They bore into you, as if he were pleading with you to believe him. He wasn’t lying.

Your eyes stung with tears and your face heated up as you looked away, embarrassed by your outburst.

Lucifer wanted to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to spook you, so you needed to make the first move.

You mumbled something under your breath he couldn’t quite hear.

‘I uh, didn’t catch that...’ You squinted your eyes and let out a shaky breath, as if hyping yourself up to repeat what you had said.

You looked him dead in the eye, face hard as you repeated yourself.

‘I said I wish I were your daughter! My life would have been so much better.’

Lucifer was gobsmacked. He really hadn’t been expecting that. When he really thought about it he realised he shouldn’t be that surprised at all. He knew you had to have a rough life, and with how welcoming and caring he’d been to you, he should have know something like this would manifest.

The more Lucifer thought it over, the bigger his hear swelled. You thought so highly of him, that you wanted him to be your dad, or fatherly figure at least.

It seemed that Lucifer took a few moments too many to digest this information, as you turned away from him abruptly. He could see you shaking.

‘I’m sorry....’ You whispered.

Lucifer was snapped back to reality by your voice. You were clearly still upset, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading  across his face.

He made his way over to you and gingerly placed a hand on your shoulder, so as to not startle you, but you still flinched at the contact.

‘Y/N... You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’ Lucifer spoke so softly that it took you off guard. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling.

‘It wasn’t till recently that I repaired my relationship with Charlie.’ You were rooted to the spot as you listened intently to what he was saying. ‘ I wasn’t there for a long time, and I truly regret how much time I missed with her.’ Your face was cast down as you hung onto every word.

You felt so stupid bringing this up. He already had a daughter that he loved, so you would just get in the way. Maybe this was his way of letting you down gently.

Lucifer moved to stand next to you, with his arm now across your shoulders. As you looked up to him, you were stunned to see him smiling. You almost passed out at his next words.

‘But maybe I can be there for you.’ More tears started to stream down your face, but this time they were tears of joy. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.

Flinging your arms round his torso, you buried your head into his chest as you clung to him for dear life.

Lucifer happily returned your embrace and lay his head a top yours.

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.’ He soothed as he stroked the top of your head. You pulled back and looked up to him with a slight laugh.

‘You mean I should have died sooner?’ Lucifer cringed and pulled away, playfully throwing his hands up in the air.

‘Well of course it’s gonna sound morbid if you say it like that!’ You both laughed together and you wiped the tears from under your eyes.

Something caught Lucifer’s eye from across the room. It was the small duck he’d previously offered you.

You watched without a word as he retrieved the gift. He stood before you and offered it once again with a wide grin. This time you gratefully accepted.

Cupping your hands round the small toy, you held it up next to your face.

‘Great likeness.’ You joked and Lucifer snorted out in laughter.

‘I’m glad you like it! You know when you knocked it away, I thought you were highly offended with how I portrayed you, so good to know that’s not the case!�� He teased and gae you a thumbs up.

‘Thank you.’

‘Well.’ Lucifer spun round, making his way to the door before pausing to speak over his shoulder. ‘Thanks to todays surprising turn of events, I need to hire a new maid.’ He paused for a moment before turning back round to fully face you. ‘Can’t have my honorary daughter run ragged , now can I?’

Later that night after both of you had taken some much needed time to calm down, Lucifer had made you sit at the dining table, whilst he served you for a change. Once you were both settled, he took the opportunity to press you a little.

‘So did you ever reach out to Charlie like I said a while ago?’ You chuckled nervously and rubbed at the back of your neck.

  ‘I didn’t really think it would be appropriate.’

‘Ah come one now, I was the one who bought it up! Plus I think it would be good for you.’

‘How so?’ You titled your had curiously and Lucifer sank back into his chair with a breathy laugh.

‘Charlie showers literally everyone she meets with love, and she’ll introduce you to loads of new friends.’

‘But-‘ You stopped yourself, really thinking weather or not you should even ask. ‘Will she even want to meet me?’ Lucifer’s face softened into a warm smile. He knew exactly what you were thinking. You were scared that Charlie would want nothing to do with you, considering the way you saw him now.

He sat up and reached over, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

‘I grantee it.’

[saberlight1]

— can’t help fallin’ in love, coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of trauma, depression, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: another one!! i am a goddamn writing machine these days lmao. i wanted to write something lovey dovey about my boy, i think i may have gone a lil overboard but this app is seriously lacking coryo fluff fics. i hope you enjoy soft coryo as much as i do! <3

masterlist

Coriolanus sat with an emotionless look on his face as he sat on the rocky train that was taking him to his worst nightmare. He was being shipped off to District 12 for cheating to help you win the games. He didn’t regret that, he never would.

But this was not the ideal outcome he’d imagined.

At least he wouldn’t be completely alone— after all, he was going to your district. He just wished it was under different circumstances.

“You know, I thought I might find you here,” Sejanus’ words caused him to turn around immediately, breaking him from his thoughts. “Sitting all by yourself.” He teased, walking into the train cart Coriolanus was currently in.

“Sejanus, what’re you doing—” He stood up, his eyebrows knitted together in concern and annoyance.

“What do you think?” He cut him off with a scoff. “After what I did in the arena? My father had to buy me the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.” He put his bag down. “He begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you, I couldn’t get out fast enough.” He admitted with a sigh, moving to sit down. “Barely made the train ‘cause of this stupid knee, but it’s okay, they gave me some morphling for the pain.”

Coriolanus looked at him with judgment. “You volunteered for this?”

“I figured if I get through basic and then maybe I’d become a medic.” He beamed. “Maybe make a real difference out here… just like you said.” Sejanus’ gaze turned downward. “They never told us what you did,”

“I cheated.” He answered, shamelessly. “To save Y/N from the snakes.” Sejanus’ nodded slowly, understanding where his friend was coming from. After a beat of silence, Coriolanus’ tearful eyes met his. “Do you think they killed her?”

“Why would they risk it?” Sejanus questioned with furrowed brows. “She was a big hit, if there is a games next year, they’re probably gonna invite her to sing at the opening ceremony.” He joked with a smile.

Coriolanus didn’t laugh. “You know, when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” He half-joked, his smile not meeting his eyes.

“When we’re about to be free?” Sejanus shot back. “When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you at the end of this track?” At his words, Coriolanus’ throat ran dry, the tears returning to his eyes. The possibility that you might be waiting not even crossing his mind. Sejanus looked at him with a knowing glint in his eye. “My friend, don’t give them the satisfaction. Your life has just begun. You’re gonna do great— We’re both gonna do great.”

Sejanus’ words still rung in his ears, even if they were spoken all those months ago.

Even now, when you were delicately tucked under his arm, your head buried in his neck as you slept soundly. That conversation seemed to take home in his mind, never leaving.

You were, in-fact, waiting for him, and the moment you saw him you ran into his arms, and he cherished you every day from that moment. The pair of you spent as much time together as you could, and you loved every second of it. As did he.

You were like a star of brightness in his darkness— lighting up places he didn’t even know existed and granting them with your warmth. And now that you weren’t fighting for your life, he got to learn so much about you.

He learned about your quirks, your personality, your smile, all of it. You learned the same about him.

But nights like these where he couldn’t find sleep and was left up alone, the silence and ringing of the bugs outside consumed him, the man getting caught up in the ropes that was his thoughts.

He often didn’t believe he deserved you, that you were too pure for him. You were gifted to him by mistake, but he was too selfish to let you go.

And, God, you never wanted him too.

Coriolanus had a bad habit of not speaking his mind, and bottling his emotions until they bubbled over, everything coming out in one out burst of rage and sadness. You didn’t blame him, you never did. Instead, you picked him up from the floor and held him until he calmed down.

He had never experienced the type of love you gave him, and it scared the shit out of him. He didn’t know how to return it, he wasn’t good with kind of stuff. You taught him things everyday, though.

You snuggled deeper into his neck, his uneven breathing causing you, a light sleeper, to wake up. Or, according to your theories, you were so interlinked with Coryo that you could sense when he was overthinking.

You left a small patch of kisses on his throat, cracking your sleepy eyes open to confirm your suspicions— the boy was staring off into space, not a drop of sleep in his eyes.

“Coryo,” You whispered, leaning up to kiss his jaw softly. He turned at your acts, his eyes meeting yours as his previous frown was replaced with that lovey smile you adored. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head, temporarily pushing you off of him in order for him to turn on his side to properly look at you. Once he got situated, he pulled you back into his chest, a giggle leaving your lips.

Your fingers came up to knead through his messy platinum locks. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “Nothing.. it’s just, sometimes I think you may be too good for me.” He admitted slowly.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Coryo, if anything, you’re too good for me. Remember, honey, I’m ‘District Trash’.” You laughed, repeating the words Lucky Flickermen had said about you before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaving kisses all over his face. “You must be a fool if you can’t see how in love I am with you. You are more than good to me, I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else.” You promised, continuing to leave kisses on your lover’s smiling face with every word you spoke.

His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer to him. “I love you,” He whispered in your ear, beginning to leave his own kisses on your neck and jaw.

Butterflies creeped up your spine at his confession, a love-sick smile tugging on your lips as you leaned up to really kiss him.

His hands came up to cup your face as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, the kiss only being further fueled with your burning passion for each other. Your hands slipped back into his locks for purchase as the kiss grew more needy. You let out a whimper against his mouth when he began to kiss you harder, angling your body back to deepen it further.

He smirked against your lips at your noises, before pulling back for air. His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheekbone as you both stared at each other, love strong in the both of your eyes.

“I love you, Coryo.” You whispered back, before taking your spot back in his arms. “Get some sleep, my love.” You left another kiss on his throat, the boy hugging you somehow closer, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you,” He softly spoke, leaning up to blow out the candle you had lit earlier.

“Always,”

[valenteal]

I think Dazai’s relationship with Atsushi is the only truly healthy one he’s ever had…

As much as Atsushi looks up to and feels like he owes Dazai, he doesn’t really put up with his shit. He doesn’t ignore or dismiss Dazai’s self destructive behavior but he also doesn’t judge or coddle him for it. He isn’t afraid to call Dazai out or acknowledge his flaws and he doesn’t listen and obey him blindly, unless he is in an immediately dangerous situation where hesitation could mean death. He doesn’t really let Dazai push him away either, he remains a stable source of comfort, someone Dazai can always rely on to help him.

All of Dazai’s other relationships, even Oda, had toxic aspects, some more than others certainly but still. Dazai can never trust Kunikida to accept him, Dazai’s entire being goes against his ideals no matter how much they may care about each other. Oda was always accepting and he was reliably there when Dazai needed him, but he’d also given up on Dazai to an extent, he didn’t actively try to help him at all until he was dying, he was kind of a passive person in general and even admitted that he wished he’d done more for Dazai. These relationships are not incredibly harmful, only damaging in subtle psychological ways that likely impacted Dazai’s self worth and his ability to feel comfortable or known. But still. Not healthy.

With Chuuya and Mori it’s quite a bit more obvious but I’ll explain how I see it anyway.

Dazai’s relationship with Chuuya, as much as it’s defined by mutual trust and respect, is poisoned by Dazai’s controlling behavior toward Chuuya. There are not one but TWO canonical instances where Dazai orchestrated the loss of Chuuya’s entire support network, during the 15 arc and in Storm Bringer. Neither instance was solely because he wanted Chuuya to himself but it was a motivating factor and the result was the same. Except of course Chuuya didn’t really blame him either time because he was able to deflect the blame onto Mori and Verlaine. But Chuuya isn’t unaware of Dazai’s role in either case, and he doesn’t forget. And Dazai doesn’t want to be so close to Chuuya. He doesn’t want someone to know him so well or to grow an attachment that he thinks will only end in pain, and he pushes Chuuya away violently when he remembers that. The thing that makes it toxic is that he forgets when he spends time with Chuuya because he just genuinely really likes him and enjoys his company. They are both each other’s only peers, in both rank and intellect. As much as they fights it, that means something to them both and it tied them together when Dazai was still in the mafia. And that’s not even touching on the rivalry between them, which isn’t inherently toxic but certainly has the potential to be, especially when paired with everything else.

And now we get to Mori. Dazai’s guardian, doctor, boss, and partner in crime. The man who saved his life more times than they can count. The man who gave him purpose and meaning in his life. Who brought him and Chuuya together. Who was responsible for Oda’s death. Who lied to him, used him, planned to kill him. Who trusted him, confided in him, shared his secrets with him. Their relationship is so complex, and in different circumstances it could have been very healthy. Mori truly cares about Dazai, and I think Dazai cared for Mori in return. It’s impossible to spend so much time with someone, share so much, without growing to care for them at all. And Mori and Dazai are so similar, they naturally understood each other and agreed with one another for a long time. One incident soured their relationship. But it still wasn’t healthy before that. Mori was using Dazai, putting him in a position no child or teenager should be in with little regard for his mental health. He still presumably gave Dazai drugs, though we don’t know what kind I think it safe to assume they weren’t regular antidepressants or anxiety prescriptions. Might have just been weed, but I doubt it. Anyway. Point is, Mori treated Dazai like an adult who was allowed to make their own terrible decisions, but took it a step further and pushed him towards those decisions for his own gain. Yes he cared about Dazai, and no he didn’t force him into anything, but he was irresponsible and manipulative all the same.

Anyway, I am once again writing an analysis on Dazai’s relationships in the middle of the night when I am supposed to be asleep. I have a Problem. Hope my sleep deprivation didn’t affect the quality lol

[mywritingonlyfans]

Church Crush. // Fetus!Alex Turner X Reader. (SMUT)

prompt: Psalm 119:131: I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands. / Where you notice how he looks at you and behaves in your presence, during church sessions and you decide to bring his dreams to life (in the church parking lot too). He's a sub! Here.

words: 3,7K

session/setting: I'm following a prompt based on parts of the Bible (blasphemy), and I'm using this post: link, if you're interested you can choose one and suggest an idea! (Maybe we have about him as a priest)

Your eyes landed on his figure, sitting a few chairs behind you. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and if you weren’t so observant, you might not have noticed the heart-shaped outline of his hairline. But you had, thanks to all those classes together. He was illuminated by the light from the main room, his eyes a lazy, lovely caramel. So solemn, and you liked to imagine that sometimes they were watching you too. You fiddled with your cuticles impatiently, noting his nails, perfectly trimmed down to the quick, as he rubbed his well-shaped, sculpted nose, picking at his slightly flushed skin. You couldn’t help but picture them in other scenarios; adding meaning to such generous fingers. Without realizing it, he was mesmerized by the slight smirk on your face, only to quickly turn away to avoid the intensity of your gaze. That feeling was new. He couldn’t tell if you liked how his body reacted to you or if it made you uncomfortable, exchanging glances like that in such a place. After all, shouldn’t he be paying attention to the church’s service?

“We’re done for today, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the finely dressed man filled the room, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t heard a word he’d said since you arrived, you were busy. And thanks to Turner, every one of your Sundays had become like this—a vain attempt to surrender your body and soul to something that was supposed to be sacred. Still, there was a purifying aura about the way Turner’s curious gaze rested on you. Not that you thought he saw you as someone pristine, but because, clearly, he saw you. He saw you as someone worthy of that affection. Turner had become the reason you kept coming back. You counted the days for moments like this. The distinctive, colorful marble of that sanctuary wouldn’t be the same without him. You wouldn’t even think of returning otherwise.

He tried to ignore you, avoiding glances or any chance of crossing paths. He gathered up his backpack, frantically organizing himself to leave as quickly as possible. Yes, he was awkward—in a genuine, innocent way. Maybe he was still new to this, inexperienced, and clearly flustered. But based on how he acted in class, those assumptions seemed accurate. He briefly adjusted his hair, clearly uncomfortable in his too-small blue polo shirt that clung to his sweet fragile frame. His eyes were on you, even though his body language denied it. You smiled at him, boldly, leaving him even more flushed and disoriented.

When he opened his car door, he threw himself onto the seat, letting the backpack strap catch awkwardly, making him look like a ‘ninja turtle’ as his body contorted. He sat down; he was a mess. He reopened the door, discreetly, making sure he looked ridiculous in your eyes. Given the circumstances, he wondered if he should think of you as someone he'd marry someday, but that wouldn’t be fair to himself, not with how he idealized you every single time he saw or thought of you. His mind was far from pure, though he wished you well and admired your independence. However, his ideals about you weren’t exactly built on divine foundations.

Trying to recompose himself, he grabbed the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it. His breath caught in his lungs, knowing just how wrong he was for feeling this way and that he would be punished for it. Still, he pressed his thighs together, body and soul present, though not for any greater good—except, perhaps, for the thought that you might be his ‘greater good’ if you wanted to be. He was getting tight in his pants, just from seeing you. His throat burned from the effort of trying to forget it all—forget his obsession with you, even though he made it all too easy to dwell on it.

Yet, he couldn’t let go. His mind was stubborn. He wanted to see you, to feel your eyes on him, to hear what your voice sounded like, no matter how wrong it felt. It was inevitable that he would spend all week waiting for Sunday, just so he could see you again—admiring the way you dismissed people who criticized your looks or how relaxed you seemed, unconcerned with the judgment of others. And, of course, how you smiled at him after catching him looking at you.

Alex did his best to avoid you in the halls during the week. You still had the same confident essence and leather jacket, but he didn’t want to disrupt your popularity or how adored you were with his primitive presence. It was such a small town.

“Hey, youuu!” A deep, feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Startled, he first thought the sound had come from outside, but when the door slammed and his eyes confirmed a familiar figure inside, right next to him, his entire body froze.

“You can’t be ‘ere,” he stammered in a pathetic whisper, earning a mischievous smile from your lips. His accent was stronger than ever, hurting his throat. It felt wrong, yet like a dream.

Up close, you wore a crucifix around your neck, dangling like a hypnotic watch, and your hair cascaded perfectly over your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and stayed locked on him, leaving him unsure of where to look. You were invading his space. His hands, damp with sweat, shot down to his jeans in a nervous attempt to seem more composed in your eyes.

As usual, you seemed indifferent to the situation, as if this was entirely normal and you’d known each other for years. Your long fingers smoothed his dark hair behind his ear, drifting down to adjust his collar so his collarbones could be more pronounced, more visible to your praises. Your eye makeup was strikingly out of place for the setting—perhaps that was one of the small details that had captivated him since the moment he first saw you. The sharp, dark line framing your perfectly defined gaze made you all the more mesmerizing. A few droplets of sweat from the heat of the day clung to your cheekbones, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to lick them away; being responsible for keeping you clean. In a way, he wanted to let a single tear escape in front of you, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing.

“Are you listenin' to me, Bambi eyes?” Your hand now rested on your thigh, your skirt clinging tighter and riding up slightly as you leaned forward in front of him. The crucifix floating, as well as your collarbone and breast in the tank top beneath the leather. He was dreaming—his mind had been in this exact place before.

“Alex,” he managed to say, he couldn't tell if his heart was beating. A small, plausible chance to let you know his name. He couldn't miss that.

You laughed, an amused, sweet sound that felt like a spell cast over him. “I know you, Bambi,” your hand slid up towards his leg, climbing up his thigh as your smile widened at how excited he was so early, pausing over the stiffness of his belt. He thought you were cute, he was getting so sure of that. His cheeks were flushed, his stomach restless above your touch, he was a good boy; definitely not as pure as the seconds passed with you.

“You do?” His voice came out choked, the words stuck as he tried to catch his breath. You were inside his head, crushing him into pieces, and he was utterly lost in you.

You nodded, reaching up and squeezing a part of his lower belly that had never been touched by anyone else before. He was warm and silently prayed that you would have him. On a choked sigh, in an involuntary act, he spread his legs as you got your fingertips over the prominent part of his jeans, making you play gladly with the buckle of his belt. “I do, or do you think I don’t see you looking at me? Giving me those poor Bambi eyes as you study me from top to bottom, rubbing your soft legs together in an attempt to clear your impure thoughts.” Your gentle touch reached his skin, soft and reassuring. You unbuckled the belt with a satisfying click, slowly sliding it around his waist, each breath he exhaled filled with relief as you granted him the sense of freedom. “I know everything about you, Turner” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ve done my research.”

“Did you look me up?” he asked softly, even though he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to learn anything about him, given that the town was as small as a speck. His mouth went dry, feeling your nails grazing the damp fabric clinging to the swollen skin on his white underpants.

He knew he was blushing, embarrassed by it (by himself), but you were happy, your lip between your teeth with an inviting look, revealing him hard and accumulated at the tip. You clicked your tongue, looking into his dark eyes, and already knowing the answer, you didn't hesitate to run your hand over his length, feeling him generously as his head went back in a sigh.

The doors were open, he could leave, the most exciting thing about it was that he didn't care about being corrupted by your actions.

As a quiet hum was being taken from him, you pressed your fingers harder into the spot. “So do you like my touch, Turner?” You ran your fingertips gently, running them through all his hardness, so tenderly. “Your so wet, babe. Did you get like this when you were in there thinkin’ ‘bout me while failing to pay attention on the world ‘round you?” Your hands cupped his flesh, making him dodge while closing his eyes. “When should you be listening to the Lord's words? Huh?”

Even if it was slow, even if you lingered, Alex didn’t mind. He wanted it to last as long as possible, as long as you were there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, not knowing where to put his hands or how to act in front of you. He hated the fact that he was so quiet, making you think he wasn't enjoying it; even though his body wasn't capable of lying. “I just — I just don’t know what to do,”

“I know you don’t, babe. I know you don’t. Never ever been touched for someone else, right? Sounds like a good boy for me, a fuckin’ perfect boy for you parents, a english class winner, a saint in the eyes of the neighborhood, and a devotee of our little sanctuary. What’d they say if they saw you now? About to get lost in whimpers for me in a church parking lot, huh? Bein’ mine instead,” your sinful words brought shivers down his spine. And as he could imagine, you had done your homework. You had already noticed him beyond the church. Your compliment with words, taking away all his speech, made him open his eyes briefly, sulking his hips in your hand. You did that for him, and without knowing how to explain it, Alex found you angelic; a pure angel in disguise. “Tell me, Turner?” You kept moving, not increasing the pace, assigning to the ache between his legs (in your cares); yet firm enough as he needed. “How can you be good? Fantasizin’ ‘bout me like that? Or when you walk past me bumping into my shoulders on purpose so I can notice you devouring me with your eyes when I come close to you every Sunday, babe? You’re not a good boy at all, see? You only came ‘ere for me.” You had an indescribable effect on Alex. You were right, he had never felt this way with anyone before, you were the first and for him you would be the only one to take him out of that bubble of chastity.

How could it be fair that you talked to him like that? How was it possible that his conscience understood that as wrong but still his body was begging to be taken by you?

He thrust his hip pathetically into your palm, “I need more,” he said in a whimpering mess, just like you described. “Please, I’ll be good, just tell me what to do,” He rested his palm on your wrist, not disturbing your work, just rubbing loving circles in longing.

“I don’t want you to do a thing, pumpkin,” For never having done it that way, it was clear how sensitive he was. Your hand ached, but you continued, intoxicated by the pained expression on his face as you were guided by every sound and drop sliding down his forehead. He was beautiful. His mouth fell open in a silent sob, making his attempt to speak your name come out in clipped syllables. You were being good for him, he wanted to learn how to do the same for you.

As he had never been to that place, he was surprised to feel no pain but pleading relief enveloping his body as your fingers slithered easily into his excessive juices. His stomach was feeling funny. But he was ethereal, he felt like he was in a good place, or getting there as he had heard the well-dressed man say minutes ago. “I just wanna make you feel good, hear your beautiful sinful sounds just for me.”

As he dipped his head on the seat, you bit on your lips, hard enough to feel the metallic taste mix with your saliva. You were the reason for his erotic dreams since he had first seen you, so that was such a daydream for him as well as for you. Your hands, controlled, came out of his swollen length to the tip, and then closed around him tightly, giving you the advantage of seeing his face twitch with pleasure knowing that only you had provided this to him. Keeping the same pace–so he could spend more time in supplication, giving you a privileged view that you would save in your brain to watch every night before bed–you began to massage his angry and read tip with your thumb, feeling his body heating up as his hip go to meet with your fist, fucking himself into you.

He had realized that he was hasty alone, and that it was difficult to hold himself back with you. He would wet the fabric of his underwear more easily, which gave your delicate hand better performance. He wouldn't know how to use your dexterity, he would need you to keep from getting hurt.

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what, Turner?”

"I need it, I need you, I need to be good for you, just want to—" He was cut off as you pulled away from him, sitting up. With tense fingers, sore from burning holes in the seat, he tried to hold back, not wanting to sound too loud.

“You’re being good to me babe. You were fuckin’ my hand so well, fuckin’ dripping on me, I’m just gonna need to hear you, pumpkin. C’mon, don’t hold back, we‘re far from everyone you can show me how naughty you are, right? Be loud for me,” you said, your raspy voice made him dizzy as you took off his shirt in a quick, clumsy act. He didn't even try to process the lack, he was completely intoxicated by you.

You lost control of your words, your fingers tracing along his waist as you placed them on his chest. He smiled softly, his lips moist and curved to the side, as usual. You liked his body, smooth and delicately sculpted; you enjoyed how wrong it felt yet couldn’t help but be guided by it. You caressed his collarbone, memorizing every groove along the way. Leaning closer to his seat, feeling his eyes on you, you kissed him. It was subtle, in contrast to everything that had come before, warm yet tender. He tasted the metallic taste, needing more. He took a moment to respond, but as he became more aware, he yielded and entwined his tongue with yours. Sweet and messy, just as you had expected, you laughed, making him blush even more.

A thin line of saliva formed as you pulled away, and he wondered if it made you wet, since he felt painfully stiff with everything you did. All he could do was stare, as if you were going to run away and be nothing more than a dream.

Without another word, you made yourself comfortable in the seat. He could see your thighs better. He took a deep sigh, letting a groan escape as your breath grew heavy with your warmth lingering on him. As soon as you moved your hair away from your face, Alex understood and held it back to give you better access and provide himself with a clearer view.

Your pink painted lips wrapped around his swollen head, sucking just a little until you lifted your head to the tip only to fail to take him completely all at once. You laughed, excited by that, and sighed with a drool running down the edges of your lips, "You're such a good size." And you could gaze at his red skin.

Understandable, yet painfully throbbing, he ran his fingers over your ear, examining the metallic earrings and caressing your velvety cheek. You were beautiful. Alex loved watching you pay attention in class, but he never thought he would be able to witness this. Your swollen lips were connected to him, your wet tongue making him squirm, and you were skilled at it. Your hand was firm at the base of him, where you couldn't reach without having your eyes water and your throat hurt, even though you let yourself do it on purpose, to please him and feel a little pain for being so unruly. But mostly, you focused on sucking him in comfort, closing your eyes, loving the taste and texture, until you could move your face up until you no longer had him in your mouth just so you could do it all over again.

He stroked your hair so gently, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. "You're so beautiful." He whispered between full-bodied moans. It was deafening, it made you give even more of yourself to have his taste in your mouth. And little by little, his legs began to tremble and his hands pulled your locks hard enough to have them loose between his fingers, but it felt so good. He groaned your name, as if in a will, relieving himself in your throat with more whimpers. It was so adorable. He was weak, such a mess.

His sweet caramel eyes watched you tiredly as you swallowed the hot liquid. It dripped down your chin a little and his stomach had stained with it too, but you didn't hesitate to wipe it away with your tongue and sweet kisses. His breathing was weak, he didn't know what to say, but thank goodness he could look at you. You gave more wet kisses to his sensitive skin, ignoring his fingers trying to push you away. And from the view Alex had through the blurry windows, he could still see some people leaving the church; you had certainly been there too long. You sucked on his spot again, licking where a bit more juice was coming out and he could see your angelic gaze at him, as if you transferred all your sins to him and he was no longer pure. He wiped the tears from your face, knowing he had them too, and drove your head up, feeling too sensitive to take it anymore.

His muscles were relaxed, though tension started to build in his head. He fumbled with his own belt and the shirt bunched up around his waist, awkwardly trying to hide his softened body. You laughed, and he understood that it wasn’t because of his clumsiness, but because you simply enjoyed seeing him like that—flushed, unsure of his next move. "Thank you," he said. Your eyebrows raised. This time, you both laughed together. You stripped him of all his social skills.

Your fingers whitened as they gripped the hem of your skirt, your eyes never leaving him, yet they roamed across his entire frame. Alex felt guilty, embarrassed. "Did that make you wet?" The question sounded like real doubt amid his weak intonation.

"Don’t you think you’re good, Al?" You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the seat as you leaned toward him, your lips brushing his cheek. Hearing you call him that made him wonder if you’d speak to him like this when you saw him in class or around his friends. He wanted you to. As usual, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he simply waited for your commands and approval.

Your forehead rested against his, your attention solely on him, your breaths mingling in quiet comfort. He signed the notice, captivated by your delicate fingers brushing against the skin of his arm, taking his hands in your and guiding them beneath your skirt. His calloused tips touched the thin fabric of your panties, surprised, heart racing at how damp you were. You pulled the elastic away, lightly touching your spot as you contemplated the act. Alex had never heard anything so beautiful. Looking for more of the sound, he repeated what he saw, your head falling back onto the seat, looking at him pleadingly and tiredly, and he imagined that you had been like that since the beginning too (even though it could be a lie and he just wanted to feed his own ego). He pressed harder, not sure how to continue, and proposed to kneel in front of you, no matter how drastic that might be. He needed all of it, every drop. But your warm voice interrupted him before, "Turner, you need to park somewhere else, I don't want to be interrupted.” You had certainly been there for a long time, no one but you needed to know how you were poisoning each other in such a place.

...

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[cloudcountry]

the burdens of royalty

Genre/Tropes: Established relationship, MC and Diavolo are married.

Summary: the weight of both the devildom and the human world are on your shoulders. if it wasn't for diavolo, you would have given up a long time ago.

Author's Comments: diavolo has a very tough job. every time he said he adores mc or that one time he confessed his love to them i panicked because thats so much. its heavier than the brother's "i love you" because hes ROYALTY and its a lot of take in.

i also find myself thinking about what his affection means for mc in the long run. i mean, surely diavolo has suitors. there are obviously higher up demons like the brothers (and maddi, that one witch that pursued diavolo so aggressively it was...icky.) for diavolo to actually pursue mc, i can't imagine what would happen when those same demons figured that out. if they were to make their relationship official or even get married, mc would probably need a bodyguard 24/7 because demons are OBVIOUSLY not chill with humans (like every single brother threatening mc and especially belphegor, although his circumstances were different because they involved lilith.)

anyways i'll be quiet, i hope you enjoy C:

~~~~~

It wasn’t easy being you.

Your now husband would always tell you that being him wasn’t easy, but now that you share the burden of his position, does that not also apply to you?

It came as quite a shock to the entire Devildom the day your engagement was announced—to think, the Prince of the Devildom, marrying a human! The demon aristocracy would have had your head if they weren’t so terrified of Barbatos. You were called many things (a manipulator and a cheat being among your favorites. Really, the higher ups in demon society would know too much about manipulating their way up the social ladder.) It was like they could comprehend that you just wanted to be with the man you loved, and that race and position and titles meant absolutely nothing to do with it.

If nothing else, you suppose being human was the easiest thing they could target. It shielded Diavolo from most of the backlash, at any rate. The last thing you ever wanted was for the public to lose their trust in him (and never give his ideals for the three realms a chance.) The fact that he only wanted the best for them seemed to fly right over their heads, as if Diavolo was just as untrustworthy as you, the foreign soul from another realm.

You, now their ruler, too.

But that’s exactly why you had to clench your teeth and bear it, bear the shimmering dresses and horned guests and Barbatos breathing down your neck so nobody would even think of attacking you. Snide remarks about your clothing of choice were met with “my husband picked it out, actually,” comments about how delicious your flesh smelled were ignored but met with a stern glare from your bodyguard, greetings that sounded so fake and that were obviously meant to butter you up were laughed at just as falsely.

Is this what it meant to be a royal?

“I apologize, My Liege. This ball runs til midnight. I assure you that you may retire to your chambers once this is over.” Barbatos whispers, strategically whisking you away from a group of demonesses muttering to each other and staring at you.

“Thank you.” you try to smile, but it probably seems like more of a wince than anything, “My feet are killing me. And the guests are just as bad.”

He smiles back sympathetically, and although he isn’t touching you at all, you can still feel the warmth emanating from him. Though the Avatars of Sin fear him, Barbatos has always been nothing but kind to you. You wonder if it has something to do with Diavolo, or if he really is that cruel. You suppose it doesn’t matter, whether you’re naive or not, because the fact of the matter is that you have the man Barbatos is loyal to encased in an eternal matrimonial vow. There is no way Barbatos would attempt to harm you.

“I will run you and My Lord a bath once this event is over.” he promises, and you can only sigh with relief when you notice he’s lead you outside, were the amount of people is nowhere near what it is inside, “Do you have a preference for which aromatherapy scent I use?”

“Use whichever one Diavolo chooses.” you reply, knowing he’ll be just as tired.

Barbatos laughs, a sound so full of mirth it makes you happy, too.

“I am sorry if that was out of line, My Liege. I was just amused by the coincidence. My Lord said to select whichever scent you would like.” Barbatos chuckles.

You find yourself laughing too, despite how nasty the demons around you treat you every time you hold one of these balls. It’s so sweet and considerate and just so Diavolo. You wish you could hug him right now and thank him for always trying to be a better man for you. He doesn’t seem like he will ever realize that he’s enough already, which simultaneously warms and breaks your heart.

He really thinks too highly of you. You’re not that special.

Barbatos leads you to a bench and gestures for you to sit. You do so without complaint, and before you can say anything he’s on his knees and massaging your calves. You feel yourself heating up in the face (because you still feel like he shouldn’t be doing these things for you), but you’ve learned a while ago that he takes pleasure in serving people. So you let him do his thing.

Part of your flustered state is also embarrassment, and despite your best efforts you cannot stop your eyes from darting around the gardens to check if anyone is paying attention to you. Thankfully, they all seem enraptured by an illusionist hired for the event who’s stationed in front of the grandiose fountain. He keeps making wispy demonic figures swallow running humanoid figures whole.

You’re used to this.

Another servant comes by, one by the name of Marie Anne. You know her well. Diavolo has always been very kind to her, offering her a life away from the downright cruel aristocratic family she had before. You don’t know the details, and you don’t ask. It’s not your place.

The demoness curtsies and smiles, offering you a bubbling glass of Demonus. It can’t get you drunk, but it can be refreshing. You take it and thank her. Her cheeks turn pink and she curtsies again before scurrying towards the crowd of demons watching the illusionist.

It’s funny how some demons could be so kind and others so nasty. There were many similarities that they have with humans, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You tell Barbatos that he can stop now, and he halts his motions and stands up immediately. You’re still not used to being pampered in such a way, so you thank him. He only smiles and tells you it’s not necessary.

“I believe this is why the servants are taking a quick liking to you.” he muses, “I hardly think they would be this receptive if My Lord had married a witch or a member of the aristocracy.”

“You really think so?” you say, feeling your cheeks burn again from the praise, “I…I’m not doing anything special.”

“A simple thank you goes a long way, My Liege.” he hums, a content smile on his face as he stands beside you.

You suppose he’s right. After all, you’ve only heard (and seen, you think bitterly) terrible things about the aristocracy. They’re rude and impatient and only ever think about themselves when it comes to policies that affect the entire Devildom. If they didn’t fear Diavolo so much they surely would have attempted to overthrow him by now.

Too bad, you think smugly, staring at the insolent illusionist again as he makes a smokey human child scream at a demonic creature emerging from an equally smokey closet, He would destroy all of you if you even tried.

You feel immature for the thought only seconds later. You’re a ruler. You need to get your act together—you can’t be just as bad as them.

“My Liege, it’s almost time for the first official dance of the night.” Barbatos bows to you, swooping his hand gracefully towards the ballroom, “Would you like to reconvene with My Lord?”

“Please. I thought I would never get to see him tonight.” you groan, attempting to walk off the slight cramp in your calf as you follow Barbatos back into the fray.

The second your shoes hit the shiny flooring and make that click clack sound, there are shimmering eyes drawn to your form. They snap away as soon as they look, though, and whether it’s disgust or fear of Barbatos you don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because finally you’ll get to see your beloved after he’s been mingling with the aristocracy all night. It isn’t hard to find him either, because amidst all the other clumps of beautiful demons you can clearly see an even bigger clump closer to the center.

You don’t even have to mumble awkward ”excuse me’s” as they all step aside for you (mostly for Barbatos though, as he’s leading the way and they’ve already made it plenty clear that they do not respect you) and before you know it, you’re standing in front of your beaming husband and a rather disgruntled Lucifer. He looks about as comfortable as you do in your formal wear, though he doesn’t show it. It’s too bad you know him well enough to see past his facade and pick up on all his little mannerisms he would never allow anyone else to see.

You spare him the teasing right now.

You try not to feel self conscious as you take your place by Diavolo’s side, a soft giggle leaving the lips of the demon you kiss goodnight every evening.

“Hello, my dear.” he whispers in your ear, stooping down to kiss your hand, “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

Lie. Lie until you’re alone with him and can finally be yourself again.

“Yes, it's been lovely.” you lie through your teeth, a single drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into you, “Barbatos has been most helpful. I’m incredibly thankful for him.”

Diavolo lights up like a little puppy dog at the mention of his butler’s name, and lets another loud laugh escape him. Despite his cheerful demeanor, you can still feel the hateful glares being directed your way. In the periphery of your vision, you can see Lucifer glaring right back at the demons behind you, and that gesture alone warms your heart. You are safe with these demons. Things will get better.

Even if better is in a few hours, when you and Diavolo will be in bed and he’ll spoon you and hold you tightly and whisper words of love and affection into your ear until you fall asleep. You discovered his habit for sleepy rambling relatively quickly after the wedding, and eventually you couldn’t sleep without it. If it wasn’t for his love, you surely never would have gotten this far with interrealm relations. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve given up.

Diavolo was the definition of shoot for the stars. He truly was an amazing demon.

“My dear.” he coos, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles that cheesy grin you know all too well and love far too much, “May I have this dance?”

He stretches a hand out for you to take, a symbol of how you two are bridging two realms together. Some of the people here tonight may think that’s the reason you two are doing this, that it's a diplomatic display to marry each other, but they’d be wrong. You know Diavolo isn’t the type to do something like that.

It’s like the demons in this palace tonight can’t understand that you two just love each other, and that's that.

And so you take his hand.

He sighs, a blissful sound that you know only you can produce from him, and sweeps you across the dance floor. His hand on your lower back is firm and unyielding, but it’s not possessive. Even when you were still living with the demon brothers, he never once overstepped any bounds.

Part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t just him that had wanted you two to spend time together.

You suppose that doesn’t matter anymore, not when his grip is so sure, not when his heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you rest your head against him, not when the demons and demonesses are moving out of your way. You know the respect is short lived and that they are only doing this for Diavolo, but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it for now. Moments where a demon steps aside for a human are few and far between, but with you and Diavolo working together, you hope it will become more common.

“I love you.” you whisper to him, the words quiet enough so that only you two can hear them. You aren’t ready to declare such a vulnerable thing on your own, not when these demons have the strength to rip you apart.

And so Diavolo helps you, just as he always does.

“I love you more than anything.” he declares, his voice as loud as a blaring trumpet, a sharp contrast to your softness. You feel your face begin to burn, especially when you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, but you cannot stop the wobbly smile on your face.

“Disgusting.”

“A human? Really? How will they rule us?”

“It would have been better if we stayed with our own kind.”

“What is Lord Diavolo doing?”

The ballroom begins to buzz and you feel yourself growing less and less sure of yourself. There are tears pricking your eyes, but you will them away. You cannot let them win.

And then, you see Diavolo’s form ripple. Wings sprout from his back and horns protrude from his head and there’s an uncharacteristically stern glare on his face as he fixes his malice at who you can only assume are the perpetrators.

You feel safe.

Maybe it’s a farce.

Maybe it’s make believe.

Maybe it’s temporary.

But Diavolo’s dream is possible, and you believe in him.

You just need to endure the burdens of royalty for him—the burdens he’s been bearing by himself for far too long.

[magpiepills]

Sagittarius

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: you and Ezra in your pod.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, helmet riding, slight bondage? Idk what else.

A word from the author: has anyone done riding Ezra’s helmet yet? No matter. Here’s mine. With gratitude to the mutuals and the magic sluts.

Your meeting was an improbability on a largely deserted moon. He had talked so sweet, so flattering, so genteel. Like chloroform on a pretty handkerchief. Lorenzo fell for it, too. Lorenzo always was a sucker.

Ezra says he’s sorry.

Sorry he tried to rob you. Sorry he shot your husband dead. Even if Lorenzo did shoot first, you had really wanted to be the one to dispatch the conniving bastard, and he took that from you. The way he squirmed and huffed now, well, that’s his own doing.

If robbery and murder weren’t great enough offenses, he’d had the gall to track you all the way back to your rented pod and barge right in. He couldn’t just get away with that.

You’d heard him. He rattled the door, forced it open, metal creaking and groaning against rusted metal followed by heavy boots thudding against the corrugated metal floor. You’d already stripped down to your tank top and underwear, a futile attempt at staving off the humid heat of Bakhroma Green. There was no time to get dressed now. You held your thrower in both hands, finger itching at the trigger and your back against the brittle plastic of the pod walls. Fool as he was, he came in head first. When the butt of your Frontiersman didn’t quite connect with the required force, Ezra wheeled around and snatched your weapon away, flinging it clear across the pod.

Incensed, you charged at him. Grabbing him, wrenching his arm back and pulling until he hollered and fell forward. You let his weight drop onto the floor, he groaned and bared his teeth, writhing pathetically at your feet. Good. Serves him right. You watched him for a moment, hands on your hips and head cocked. There wasn’t time to consider the next step in dealing with your intruder. He was on the floor and you had the upper hand. You couldn’t let him get up, that was certain.

No sooner was your mind made than you threw yourself on him, doing your best to pin him down and get him into a headlock or something to incapacitate him long enough for you to toss him back out of the ship and leave him to die. Ezra grunted and panted, bucking and rolling, trying his best to throw you off of his back. You held your own as long as you could, but he was furious and strong. In a flash he grabbed your hair and flipped you both, knocking the wind from your lungs. The ensuing melee saw you tumbling and flailing about the pod, each of you trying hard to get the other to stay still. Panting, sweating, grunting, swearing. You aren’t sure how you end up on his back, holding him with his arms bent. Thankfully, he had no energy left to fight, because neither did you. You needed to tie him up.

It wasn’t ideal. None of this was, really. It was a shit show from the start and you’ve just had to accept that and somehow get through it. You did the only thing you could do under the circumstances and you tied him up with your panties. The fabric was probably cutting off his circulation and the knot may not hold long, but it was good enough. You did your best to put out of your mind the fact that you’re naked from the waist down now. It didn’t matter if he saw, you told yourself. As quickly as possible you were going to be shoving him out the hatch and leaving him far behind.

You flipped your captive onto his back, muzzle of your recovered thrower shoved into his chest. With your adversary bound, you relaxed for a moment, catching your breath before you had to haul him out.

You traced your fingertips over his visor. The glass is thick. Scratched and pitted and heavy over his head. Behind it he’s sweating. Small beads on his forehead, nose and cheeks that gathered together and slid down to his hair. It was your first good look at him. He was pretty. What a waste. With his big, round eyes, shiny, pitch-colored things; with his nose, soft aquiline curve, and lips, pouting open now, as he looked pitifully back at you.

He kept those clever eyes trained on yours as you shuffled up closer, knees on either side of his helmet. You rapped gently on the glass, smiling sweetly down at him. You ran your hands over the cool surface, but still he watched you. You lifted the hem of your sweatshirt, and brought it up, up, up over your bare tits, and tossed it aside. You watched with amusement, tilting your head sympathetically to the side as you squeezed and lifted your tits, letting them fall again before gently pinching your nipples. “Mmmm. Feels so good, Ezra. Touch me, please. I know you can make it even better.” You whined, teasing him. He closed his eyes, brows furrowed, muttering something you couldn’t hear under his helmet. “Oh, I forgot. You’re tied up. Well, I guess if you can’t take care of me I’ll have to just do it myself.” You sighed dramatically and rolled your hips, “I think there’s still a way you can help though. You do want to be good, don’t you, Ezra? You want to keep me happy, isn’t that right?” He wet his lips with his tongue and nodded shallowly, eyelids looking heavier. You circled your nipples with your fingertips, teasing them into firm points, caressing down your stomach and your thighs.

He squirmed below you and whined when you jutted your hips forward, pressing your bare pussy against the glass. Ezra stared, frozen as you repositioned, settling right over his line of sight so he could see exactly what you were about to do.

At first your movements were small and deliberate. Your puffy lips pressed lewdly, not quite wet enough, but enjoying the hard, smooth convex of the helmet between your thighs. You watched Ezra. He was entranced, focused intently on your cunt and the reality of how close you were, and the impossibility of his desires. He wanted to flatten and spread those lips with his lips and tongue and nose and chin. He would have had you thoroughly soaked by now if it was up to him, but you took your time.

One hand abandoned his helmet and came back up to pluck and twist at your nipples. You closed your eyes and thought of Ezra behaving himself well enough to deserve having his cock sucked. It was big, you could see that through his suit. It was immediately evident that all of that grappling had stirred something in him. His environmental suit was snug over his straining erection. The thick bulge curved up and across his hip, accentuated by the straps banded around his upper thighs. It was impressive in thickness and length. Shame that a nice cock is wasted on a bastard like him. You wondered if he was cut or if there’d be foreskin to slip back with your lips. You wondered if he would want to come in your mouth, or if he wanted to paint your face and chest with his spend. You thought of how it would taste. You thought of how good it feels to make a strong man so weak.

“Why can’t you be good?” You complained, breathy and unintentional. You didn’t even register that you’d spoken it aloud until another voice, deep and craggy spoke up. “I can be good. Let me.”

It was the first thing he had spoken that hadn’t been a shouted demand, or a threat. It aggravated you. “Shut up.” You snapped at him, he hitched his hips in protest, teeth bared as he watched your arousal slowly seep onto the glass, aiding your gliding movements. It made his mouth water.

Back and forth, a salacious drag right before his eyes, he watched you use his helmet for your pleasure. The delicate inner folds, the swollen bud of your clit, the tender flesh of your lips. Every quickening movement was like a wet, messy kiss, smearing your slick across the smooth plane. He licked his lips and imagined how he would drink you down. He thought of sucking your clit between his lips to feel it twitch.

He didn’t realize how destroyed he looked. Wet and pathetic and mewling. He couldn’t even feel the way your panties bite into his wrists anymore. He didn’t care. He wanted you to have him like this if you wanted.

You hitched closer and closer to your apex with every grind of your hips. The power alone was a potent aphrodisiac, having Ezra, big as he was, under your thumb made you so very wet. He was your plaything, now. Maybe you’d keep him. Use him how you wanted. You could come on his helmet, his thigh, his cock if you wanted to. He wouldn’t fight. Not with the way he looked now. His eyes were inky black and shining, his warm breath fogged the glass above his parted lips. You rode his helmet unashamedly, caring only for your own demented pleasure.

Your orgasm felt like a slow motion electric shock. His face was obscured by the wet mess you’d made. It bubbled and dripped obscenely.

Your panting breath matched the rise and fall of his chest below you. Slowly you began the return to reason, to the reality of your situation. Reality is changeable, though and yours took a turn before your eyes even adjusted from the post-orgasmic haze.

You were on your back in a flash. Ezra was caging you in and smiling bodefully down at you, triumphant. Your face was still flushed from your orgasm, but your joy quickly soured. Your panties lay in tatters beside your head.

“Have you had your fun now?” He mocked. Your release still clung to his helmet and you licked a defiant stripe through it, never dropping his dark gaze. Ezra chuckled and held both your wrists in one hand while he flung off his helmet and tore at the closures of his suit.

“What was your plan? You use me and then what? Leave me high and dry?” He shook his head, feigning disappointment in your carelessness, all the while fighting his way out of the dirty canvas suit, pulling at buttons and straps until one arm was free and his thin, sweat-damp undershirt clung to his broad chest.

You didn’t notice when you’d stopped struggling in his grip, but Ezra certainly did. He clocked the trail your eyes made from his lips to his neck, to his shoulders and down his torso to where the elastic band of his boxers peeked out. He loosened his grip, shook his other arm from its sleeve, and puffed out his chest. His suit sagged down his narrow hips, as he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. What a sight he was. Muscular but soft, rough but tender. The thick swell of his now turgid member pulled at his boxers.

He palmed over it, emphasizing the length with the slow drag of his hand.

He licked his lips. “Go on.” He challenged. “Tell me to be good again.”

The air inside the pod had become thick and heavy, your skin was warm and your joints all felt too loose. The snarl you had intended came out as a ragged plea of his name.

Ezra was gentler than you’d expected. He let go of your wrists with a pointed look meant to keep you from doing anything rash, and began to explore your body. He squeezed your hips, kneading the yielding flesh, then sliding his hands up your sides, letting his fingers follow the shape of your ribs. He caressed over your belly, circling your belly button with his thumb. He watched as your chest rose and fell. He slid his palms up, flat against your skin as he pushed your bare tits together.

You could feel his hips shifting against you, feel the weight of his bulge against your cunt while he dropped to his elbow to bring your nipple to his mouth. His touch was firm. You could feel the hunger and need in the way he licked and sucked at your pointed nipples. He was holding back.

“Tell me.” He repeated. His voice was deeper, gravelly.

Your eyes fluttered closed and for a moment you wondered what came next. You knew what he wanted from you in this moment, but after that? You didn’t have the strength to fight him again. You released the breath you had been holding and asked him once more: “Be good, Ezra.”

There was little resistance when he plunged into you. He watched your face as you took what he gave, the way your mouth fell open and your head tipped back as he buried himself deep in your wet heat.

He hooked his arms under your shoulders, keeping you beneath him, as if you’d dream of leaving now. He grunted with the force of his hips pounding down into you, each heavy stroke forcing breathy cries from you. “Ah! Ah! Ahh! Ezra!”

“Is this good enough?” He asked, slowing his pace and looking down into your unfocused eyes. He looked further, down the planes of your sweat-slick bodies to where he stretched you in his cock. He rolled his hips just so, catching your clit with the wet hair at the base of his cock. You came, and he could feel your pounding pulse through the thin skin of your neck where he nibbled and sucked. When your body settled he redoubled his thrusts, palming your breast and panting into your neck until the moment he pulled out and spilled across your cunt.

The pod was silent, save for your heavy breaths, and you watched Ezra with caution. He was looking around, taking in the blinking lights and muted beeping of the control panel. He looked curious. Maybe resigned. He rubbed your thigh and you lay beside him on the floor, too aware of how your initial plan of escape was now useless. Your brain too scrambled from the force of your orgasm to formulate a new one.

Perhaps fortunately, you didn’t need to. Ezra squeezed your knee and leaned over you. He kissed you slowly and tenderly. Then, quietly, he whispered against your lips “give me the starter.”