#every time i think about it i get even more angry

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 11 (The End)

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

I could write more, but quite frankly, I think I would kinda drag it out and the first major arc is tied up with a neat little bow! There are definitely be threads left dangling for me to pick up whenever I want to write more about Sky and Azriel, but I think around 50k is a good place to stop for now ❤️

Even the Spymaster of the Night Court paid taxes.

That was the only reason why Rhysand even found out where exactly Azriel‘s home even was.

Azriel’s home was in the outskirts of Velaris, near the mountains. A little lake cabin. Rhys hadn’t even known that Azriel owned it but apparently he did.

Rhys shouldn’t go there. He knew that.

Rhys should be giving his brother space. That was probably the least he owed him. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know Azriel was alright. That he was happy.

Rhys needed to apologise. He needed to make amends…

And Azriel was ignoring him. Mental shields as shored up as they ever had been, shoving back at Rhys at every opportunity…

He had never seen Azriel's mental shields like this before, and it concerned him. He knew Azriel was angry at him, had ever right to be angry,  but Rhys hadn't expected his brother to shut him out so completely.

Reports were still arriving on his desk punctually as always. But Azriel seemed utterly uninterested in actually talking to Rhys. 

It was a small comfort, knowing that Azriel was still working, but Rhysand couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He knew that he had hurt Azriel deeply, and he couldn’t blame his brother for shutting him out.

Rhys wished he could turn back time and fix things, but he had messed up terribly. He knew he had to give Azriel space, but the silence between them was deafening . It was a constant reminder of just how much damage he had caused.

As the days went on, Rhysand found himself consumed by thoughts of what he could have done…should have done… He tried reaching out to Azriel mentally, only to be rebuffed each time. 

Cassian showed up alone for debriefings and if Rhys showed up at the House of Wind for Valkyrie Training, Azriel was nowhere to be seen. 

So finally…Rhys had enough. So he showed up at that house. 

It was a nice house too, a secluded cabin at a mountain lake. Rhys knew that he wasn’t welcome, not after everything that had passed between them, but he had to see Azriel. 

Rhys raised a hand, knocking gently on the door. He could hear the faint sound of movement inside. Rhysand sighed. He should leave. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And then suddenly, to his surprise…the door opened. 

“…C…Can I….can I h…help you?“

She was brown haired and short… with deep blue eyes and freckles smattering over her nose.

Rhysand looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback by her appearance. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a small, curvy, freckled brunette.

"I, uh..." Rhysand stammered, his mind blanking. "I was looking for Azriel." he finally brought out. 

The small female studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Az���Azriel's n…not h…here," she stuttered.

Rhysand's heart sank, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, desperate for any information.

The female hesitated, biting her lip slightly. She seemed to be contemplating her answer, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she finally looked back up at him, her expression unreadable. "He…He's...o…out f…for t…the d…day," she said finally, not giving him anymore than that.

Rhysand tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was difficult. He was so close to his brother, and yet so far away. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked sharply.

She nearly flinched away from him at that tone of voice.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but he didn't even get to that. Because some thing with wickedly sharp claws, launched itself at his head with a hissing sound.

Rhysand yelped as the mysterious creature swiped at his face, growling all the while.

"HECTOR NO!" The female shrieked.

Rhysand stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the sharp claws.

Just at that moment, he felt more than he heard his brother's arrival.

Azriel materialized between them with a loud flapping of wings, his siphons blazing. He stood protectively in front of the small female, his expression murderous.

"Hector to me," he snapped. The thing, a cat ...an incredible ugly , murderous looking cat let off Rhys with another growl and slunk back to Azriel's side, heeling like a dog. The woman quickly scooped him up in her arms.

Cassian's laughter washed over him, at that moment, as Rhys was still laying on the ground, bested by a cat .

"Taking down by a cat now, Rhysie?" Cassian asked him with a snort, offering him his hand to gain his feet.

Rhys already knew that he was never going to live this down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Azriel hissed, his voice filled with anger. His wings were spread wide, and Rhysand could see the barely contained ferocity beneath his brother's cold facade.

Rhysand winced at Azriel's harsh tone. He knew he had messed up, and he didn't blame his brother for being angry with him. "I just wanted to see you," he said, feeling small under Azriel's penetrating glare.

Azriel's expression didn't soften at his words. "You had no right," he said sharply. "You can't just show up here unannounced, Rhysand. This is my home, and you're not welcome here. You terrified Sky!"

Sky. Sky. That was the name of his brother's mate...of the pretty brunette that was standing behind him, fussing over her murderous cat.

Rhysand glanced over at Sky guiltily. "I...I'm sorry," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sky hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Her face remained guarded, her arms still wrapped protectively around the mangy cat. Rhysand couldn't help but notice how small she looked compared to Azriel's imposing form…and the absolute massive cat. 

"I am sorry," he turned to his brother, swallowing. The apology wasn't enough. he knew that. And it wasn't going to fix the fact that Azriel didn't trust him anymore or... *Az. Please.*

"How did you find this house?" Azriel demanded.

"I checked the tax reports," Rhys admitted with a grimace.

Azriel's expression darkened even further, and Rhys braced himself for a reprimand. Instead, his brother let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of course you did," he said flatly. "Just can't stay out of my business, can you?"

Rhysand felt a pang in his chest at the hostility in Azriel's voice. He knew he deserved every ounce of resentment his brother felt, but it still hurt deep to hear it out loud. "I...I was worried about you," he said lamely.”I just needed to see you." he added. "To apologise."

"You don't even realise the lines you keep crossing, do you?" Cassian asked him flatly. "Ever thought about the fact that maybe you should have waited until Azriel was ready to hear you out?

Rhysand winced. Cassian's words struck a nerve, and he knew his friend was right. He had been rash and insensitive in coming here unannounced. "I...I wasn't thinking," he admitted softly.

Cassian shook his head, his expression still stern. "That's the problem, Rhys," he said bluntly. "You never seem to think these days. It's like you're so caught up in your own head that you don't consider how your actions affect those around you."

Rhysand's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. Cassian's words pierced straight through him, and he struggled to find a response. He knew he had been making mistakes, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still stung.

"What do you want?" Azriel asked him flatly. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologise," Rhys said weakly. "I...fucked up. I know that. I want to...fix things."

Azriel's face remained impassive, his eyes hard. "You can't just fix things with an apology, Rhys," He said curtly. "You crossed more than one line, and you shattered my trust. Do you really think saying sorry is enough?"

"Az," his mate said softly, her voice quiet. "H..He's blee..bleeding all over our front lawn after my cat at..attacked him. At least let him sit down and give him a healing salve…"

Azriel turned to look at his mate, his anger softening ever so slightly at the concern in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, before nodding stiffly. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But no more than that."

Rhysand nodded gratefully, relieved that Azriel was willing to let him in, even if only slightly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I...I really am sorry."

Azriel didn't respond, turning away from him and herded Sky and the murder cat into the house. Rhysand watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that his brother's anger was far from abated, and he knew it would take a lot more than just an apology to mend their fractured relationship.

"Come on," Cassian prodded him up.

The first thing that Rhys realised about the house Azriel shared with his mate was that it was absolutely stuffed full with books. The second was, that Azriel clearly doted on the Murder Cat that got a crystal dish with tuna on it put on the floor before Azriel even went in the direction of the healing salve, which he slapped down on the table in front of Rhysand. .

"I…I am so…sorry," Sky apologised to Rhys, bright blue eyes apologetic. "H…Hector has nev…never done anything like that before, I swear."

Yeah, somehow he doubted that. But he also doubted that it was going to help his relationship with Azriel if he was going to annoy his mate about her beastly cat. The thing had a worse personality than Amren . 

"Don't worry about it," he said, with what he hoped he was a gracious smile. "I think your cat and I just got off on the wrong foot." He looked over at the cat, who was now happily devouring the tuna as if it hadn't just tried to claw his face off.

"Good Boy, Hector," Azriel said warmly.

Rhysand could just stare.

Azriel, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court, was cooing at a mangy cat like a proud parent. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Who knew the Spymaster had a soft spot for cats," Rhysand remarked with a faint smile. Azriel shot him a warning glare, but the sternness was lost at the tender way he was petting the cat. "I am really sorry," Rhys apologised again.

"You said so. Numerous times," Azriel shot back.

Rhysand sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew Azriel was still angry with him, but it was hard not to feel the guilt weighing down on him. "I know," he said softly. "But I want you to know that I mean it. I am sorry, Azriel. For everything."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but Rhysand could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knew his brother was struggling to forgive him, but he hoped that with time, Azriel would be able to find it in his heart to do so.

"I just want to make things right," Rhysand said earnestly. "I miss you, Az. I miss my brother."

"You'll need to decide one of those days," Azriel said sharply. "Am I your soldier or am I your brother?"

Rhysand flinched at the words, feeling the weight of the accusation hit him hard. 

He had always tried to balance his role as High Lord with his relationship with his brothers, but he knew that…that he hadn’t been fair to Azriel for a long time. "You're right," he conceded quietly. "I have been treating you like my soldier instead of my brother, and that's not fair to you."

"You have been treating him absolutely deplorably," Cassian cut him off.

Rhysand hung his head, feeling the weight of his mistakes settling heavy on his shoulders. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been so caught up in my own problems and responsibilities as High Lord that I lost sight of what really matters. And I've hurt Azriel because of it."

"And you stuck your nose in things that are none of your business," Cassian continued. "I get it that you are tired of fighting, Rhys, we all are, but you can't keep conflict out of our family by ordering Azriel to behave in the way you would like him to."

Rhysand winced, knowing Cassian was right. He had been trying to control things, to make sure everyone was safe and happy, but in the process, he had driven a wedge between himself and his brothers. "I...I know," he admitted reluctantly. "I was…I was stupid. I am tired of war. Of fighting. And I was just trying to protect him, but I went about it all wrong."

" Protect me?" Azriel asked him, his voice dripping with disdain. " Protect me from what ?"

Rhysand looked away, feeling the shame rise within him. He knew he had overstepped, and he knew that Azriel was angry with him. "The consequences that would have arisen," he said delicately. He didn't know what Azriel had told his mate...didn't know how much she knew, but she was watching him with an expression on his face, he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I am an adult, Rhysand," Azriel snapped. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Rhys knew that. He knew Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he still felt the need to protect him, to shield him from harm.

"I...I know that," Rhysand said quietly. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt." He glanced over at Azriel's mate, who was still watching him warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated, judged for his mistakes.

Azriel let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" he said bitterly. "You've seen to that already." Rhysand winced at the accusation, knowing that he deserved every ounce of Azriel's anger.

"I know," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry for that. I see now that it was the wrong way to go about it." He looked into his brother's dark eyes, pleading for understanding.

Azriel met his gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Protecting me by making decisions for me is not protecting me, Rhysand," he said quietly. "It's...it's suffocating. It's demeaning."

Rhysand nodded, knowing that Azriel was right. He had been trying to control everything, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong, and he had lost sight of what was truly important. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I am sorry for making you feel that way. It was wrong of me."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Just...stop it," he said simply. "No more interfering in my personal life, no more giving me orders like I am one of your soldiers."

Rhysand let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I promise," he said earnestly. "I won't do it again, Az. I...I'll respect your boundaries, and I'll never overstep again."

Azriel snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said gruffly. "And if you do...if you try to control me like that again, I swear Rhysand...it won't end well."

"You'll ha…have He…Hecctor to contend with," Sky said, her voice even.

Rhysand looked over at Hector, who had finished his tuna and was now licking his chops.  Rhys swallowed. "He does seem to be a force to be reckoned with," he said carefully.

Sky gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. "You could say t…that," she said, her tone neutral. Azriel snorted a laugh, shaking his head as he watched his mate. It was the first genuinely carefree sound Rhysand had heard from his brother…in a long time.

Despite the earlier tension, Rhysand found himself smiling too. There was something about the way Azriel looked at his mate, the way he looked...happy, that made Rhysand feel like maybe everything would be alright.

Hector chose that moment to let out a loud meow, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge in the otherwise quiet room. Azriel looked down at the cat, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll get you your second helping, spoiled brat," he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Rhysand chuckled, feeling the tension that had been weighing him down lift just a little. Things between him and Azriel weren't repaired yet, they had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful.

“They do say the pen is mi…mightier than a sword,” Sky said suddenly. “You treat Azriel like that again and you’ll see just how mighty my pen is.”

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Sky's unexpected threat. It was clear that she wasn't messing around, and Rhys couldn't help but admire her boldness. He glanced over at Azriel, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhysand said, trying to hide his amusement. "Though I have to say, I can’t imagine a pen being as terrifying as Hector."

Cassian snorted. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered

Rhysand's eyes widened in curiosity at Cassian's comment. What on earth did that mean? But before he could inquire further, Azriel's voice broke through.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's just say that you don't want to get on Sky's bad side, especially when she has her writing instruments within reach."

"Duly noted," Rhysand said, nodding seriously. He had a feeling that Azriel's mate was not someone to be trifled with, regardless of how harmless she looked, and he had no intention of finding out first-hand just how mighty her pen truly was.

Hector, having finished his second helping of tuna, let out a satisfied meow before padding over to Sky and rubbing against her leg. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he purred contentedly.

Rhysand watched the scene. He had never seen Azriel so relaxed, so happy, and it made him realize just how badly he had missed his brother. It was a reminder that family was more important than anything, and that he needed to cherish the people he cared about.

“Seems like you aren’t Sky’s favourite,” Cassian drawled.

Azriel snorted. “Nah, I come a distant third behind Hector and the shadows.”

Rhys watched with a swallow as these shadows that he had seen torturing people came over to Sky and twined around her hands. Azriel's words were said in jest, but Rhysand could hear the fondness in his voice. It was clear that Azriel adored his mate, and that the shadows had taken a liking to her as well. Rhysand tried not to let the slight sting of jealousy show on his face.

As he watched, the shadows danced around Sky's fingers, like they were alive and had a mind of their own. Rhys had seen the shadows in action, had seen how Azriel used them to fight and spy, but he had never seen them act this way before. There was a tenderness in the way they twined around Sky that was almost...beautiful.

Rhys turned to Azriel, who was watching his mate with a soft expression on his face. "They seem to like her," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

"That's an understatement," Azriel said drily. "They're obsessed with her. They won't leave her alone."

Rhysand could see that clearly, but what surprised him more was how comfortable Sky seemed with them. She wasn't scared or even bothered by their presence...

It did make sense he supposed. The shadows were Azriel's weapon, his most trusted companions...that they would like his mate.

Rhysand watched as Sky looked up from where the shadows were wrapping around her fingers, a faint smile on her face. She seemed completely at ease with the strange entities, as if they were just another part of Azriel that she had accepted and embraced.

And it was also a sharp reminder of how much trust Rhys had destroyed through his actions. It was very clear who Azriel preferred, who he trusted more. Who he gravitated towards. Who even his shadows doted on, these strange, creatures that Rhys was quite sure would stop at nothing to keep their master safe.

The realization stung, but Rhys knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had caused this rift between them, he had pushed Azriel away, and now he was paying the price for it. But he was determined to make it right, no matter how long it took.

As he watched Azriel gently brush away a stray strand of hair from Sky's face, Rhys made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to repair their broken bond, to regain Azriel's trust and respect. No matter how hard it was, no matter how long it took, he would make things right.

***

"You want to talk about it?" Sky asked him quietly, after Cassian ad Rhys had gone. 

She was fine now. Content. No more pulling at the mating bond so harshly and pushing all her fear at him. It had shaved at least a century of his life, to feel that from her when Casisan and him had been sparring and he knew that she was supposed to be safe at home.

He had expected near everything…but he hadn’t expected to arrive to the view of Hector scratching Rhys’s face with all his might. 

Azriel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his tangled emotions into words yet, but he also knew that he couldn't keep it all bottled up inside.

"Rhys gave me some orders that I didn't agree with," he said drily. "Stuck his nose in things that he had no business to interfere with. He treated me...treated me like my feelings didn't matter. That I didn't matter....It took a really bad fight on Solstice for this apology to occur," he said with a grimace.

"You don't think he means it?" Sky asked him curiously, turning to look at him.

"No, he does mean it," Azriel said with a sigh. He did believe that. “He wants to fix things. to rebuild trust...And I do want that too. Regardless of how much of an asshole he can be on occasion he is still my brother ."

Sky was quiet for a long moment, watching him intently. Azriel felt the weight of her gaze, knowing that she was analyzing the situation, trying to understand what he was feeling. Finally, she spoke.

"You're worried that he'll disappoint you again," she said softly. "That he'll make promises that he can't keep. That he'll go back on his word and hurt you worse than before."

Azriel's throat felt tight. The words hit him hard, because Sky had put a voice to his deepest fears. "Yes," he admitted. "That'sexactly what I'm afraid of. I want to believe him, I do."

But it was hard to trust Rhys right ow. Especially with Sky. Trusting Rhys with the most important, the most precious part of his life...

"I can loan you Hector whenever he pisses you off again," Sky offered him seriously, and Azriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I might just take you up on that." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. The scent of caramel and hazelnuts enveloped him, calming his racing thoughts and easing the tension in his shoulders.

"I love you, he whispered into her skin and she hummed. "Regardless of what happens, you  have me," Sky promised him. "I'll be behind you, every step of the way. regardless of whatever you decide."

Those words were like a balm to Azriel's soul. The fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since Rhysand's unexpected visit receded, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty. He held onto Sky tightly.

"I love you too," she murmured, the words barely audible even in the still apartment.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding onto each other.

*I don't think I ever thanked you.* he told the shadows softly as he held his mate in his arms.

The shadows fluttered around him, wrapping around his arms and shoulders like a comforting embrace. They didn't say anything, but Azriel could feel their response. They had been with him through thick and thin, protecting him, guiding him, and never once asking for a word of thanks. And yet, he knew that they understood his gratitude, that they could feel it…

*Thank you for finding her.*

[r0-boat]

That time of the month guys, You know what I must do...

Whb Kings on your Period

All Kings x AFAB! reader NSFW No sex just extremely suggestive... Blame three individuals

....Wait a minute... If Lilith makes the kids does that mean demon women don't have periods? Probably looking too much into it...

Edit: This is supposed to be a fun post, But at the end of this, I went down several rabbit holes... Please don't be like me don't think 😭

Cw: mentions of pussy eating (You probably know who it is already lol), no . Suggestive,(alluding to sex on. But never happens because demons are fucking weird)

Satan

You're different somehow every month, and he can't put his finger on it. But your short-tempered rage makes him giggle like a teenager and kick his feet. You have such a low tolerance, super BS, and he loves that. And he wants to know why he never smelled this off Solomon before, so it must be you that's different. When Satan asks you, you sigh and put your hands to your mouth before giving him a 20-minute explanation.

...Holy shit? You're what now??? He thought humans creating little people it was crazy now what you're telling him is that humans have the power to shed their skin from the inside and shit it out??? Can he see it?!

... The mental image, He had and the real thing was not what he expected are you okay Oh my God there's so much again. He never wants to see that much blood come out of you ever again. The way you made this man fear more than any angel by that explanation alone. The way you have this man scampering to a human store to get whatever you ask to help ease the pain even if it's just for a little.

When he tells you that demon women don't have periods He swore your rage was emanating off you and Leviathan could probably feel you're jealousy from all the way in Hades.

Hi I think Satan using a period cramp simulator would be very funny and very entertaining...

Bonus non-cannon:

Fem!Satan: Would have the worst periods known to woman. The streets of Gehanna are deserted because the moment something slightly inconveniences her a whole building is collapsing. I wouldn't blame her, her period cramps will hurt worse than Gabriel stabbing a sword through her uterus before punching her in the gut.

Mammon

He'll buy you literally everything. It doesn't matter if you use tampons pads or cups because he's already bought everything. He's either got it from Lucifer or you made an offhand comment about it and he did his own research. He's very proud that he's prepared for his master.

Like he'll already get you everything But when you're on your period you actually have a reason to accept all his things especially if it's junk food. This is awesome! You're letting him pamper you!!! He wishes you can have periods all the time!

(one explanation later) What the fuck? Never mind. Aren't you scared of running out of blood?

He wish he could grant you something that take the way the pain and discomfort easily but Tartaros never really had that problem so they don't really have any solutions. Instead he'll just stick to spoiling you with food.

Watching Mamon's eyes go wide when he sees how much a tampon soaks up water is pretty funny.

Bonus non-cannon:

Fem!Mammon: She hates it. She hates it so much that she spends the money and resources to immediately either go to the human world or recreate a Depo shot or an implant to get rid of it. And she regularly changes it when she has to.

Leviathan

He smelled blood and he thought you were going to get killed. He was literally ready to die protecting you. He was so angry that he got worked up over nothing at first until he saw how much pain you were in.

Beelzebub

Why does your body insist on doing something that harms itself Is it stupid or is your body hating you. If you insist on being useless then you can just lay in bed!

After the initial Levi snark is gone he comes back to check on you. He actually looks really worried and thinks you might die. Freaking out frantic calls tulucifer after initial back and forth Lucifer insists that what they're feeling is normal.

All of the novels will be looking after you He doesn't want you leaving the bed just in case you might trip and die or accidentally get yourself hurt. He genuinely thinks you might die.

He will silently open your door stare at you and see if you're doing all right and then close the door, Rinse and repeat until you either yell at him ask him what he's doing. He will either respond with arguing back.

Bonus non-canon:

Fem!Leviathan: when she's on her period you literally will never see her. She's so glad She connected her bathroom too her bedroom. It's because she sheds her scales she's not joking. She actually does shed her scales on her period Will she show you fuck no. The moment she starts bleeding you're never seeing her again until she stops.

Honestly he was zoning out through half of your explanation until you mention the actual 'bleeding' process. Then you just see him lean inward putting his chin on his hands. So you're telling him... There is a way to consume you without hurting you?

This fucker has to stay away from you 10 ft away. He is SOOOO on board with eating you out. Keep Guy 10 ft away from you He would be absolutely no help except for maybe eating junk food and bringing you snacks.

He will laugh at your horrid, disgusted face because he just loves your cute little reactions. He raises his hand during the lecture on human anatomy to the Kings, and you told him to put his hand back down because you're not answering any of his batshit questions because you know it's going to be the second worst thing you've ever heard.

Bonus non-cannon:

It's okay though he'll never remember you period though he will always know because he could smell it (insert that one meme) he'll deadass forget that humans can bleed like that and occasionally get scared to smell blood on you before remembering.

He's still this day wonders about us question "if He sucks it all out Would the period be over?"

Fem! Beel: she's lost so much of her cute underwear from being forgetful. I could definitely see her getting an implant or Depo so she doesn't have to remember, but she kind of already forgets her appointments, too.

Lucifer

Human menstrual cycle...He's not stupid He was part of the creation when God made humans to breed with one another. He not only sees it as a normal thing but something special that human women have that sets them apart from demons and angels.

He doesn't understand your disgust and hatred by something explicitly given to you and all human women by God.

He offers to change your mind as he gets on his knees and you start adamantly declining and screaming. Now he really is confused....

About half of the other devils are defending your case when Lucifer brings it up at the next meeting. Though it's so split down the middle they end up discussing that topic another time.

As an 'apology' he gives you a basket with a bouquet of white lilies, painkillers and some cut fruits with card telling you to not eat unhealthy foods since it tends to make the cramps worse. And he hopes you get better.

Bonus non-cannon:

Fem!Lucifer: human female menstrual cycle yeah don't they also molt their feathers? No that's just an angel thing?? So demons also don't molt their feathers molting feathers is just an angel thing??? Other she would be super chill on her cramps, she doesn't even care.

Belphegor

The most normal, You want somewhere to rest? Lucky for you his bed is the softest in all of hell he'll make sure to take good care of you and by taking care of you he means sleeping and cuddling with you while his subordinates do all the work.

Periods actually sound like a pain in the ass He hopes he never has one You're absolutely welcome too crash at his place He understands completely about how things might be more irritating when you're constantly in pain.

Belphegor Actually really likes You're listlessness as much as he likes hard work He doesn't mind when you succumb to his sin a little bit. Especially when you're looking so cute laying on top of him. His phone screen is a picture of you smooshed against his chest with a hand on your head.

Another excuse to binge anime that he doesn't want to watch alone is a win in his book. He'll let you watch some of your favorites as well. He's not picky.

Beleth is in heaven taking care of and pampering you and his majesty. He just wish he could have you to himself for 'private' time.... menstruation? Lol a little blood isn't going to scare him.

Bonus non-cannon:

Fem!Belphegor: Nope... The last time they had their first period was when they first woke up, never again... A thousand years of menstrual pain almost put her back to sleep. Ever since she'd been dying trying to get rid of this thing causing her pain as soon as she heard Lucifer can do implants and depots She was the first one who got it. If she ever gets off at again she'll experience the same exact piercing pain she felt.... but That sounds like a problem for her future self.

Asmodeus

He completely compliance but doesn't really understand He still doesn't. After having a wife who had to deal with periods. It's a complete natural thing for the human reproductive system. And oh boy you bet he knows all about that

"You know if you really don't like it I used to have a cure that can take it away for 9 months, Would you like one? Hahah just kidding dear!"

Asmodeus 🤝Lucifer🤝Beelzebub(I think you can fill in the blank)

In all seriousness he really doesn't understand why humans don't like something that's completely natural He understands devils because devils are just naive beings in general and only certain high level angels Who worked with God don't care...

Another Tally on the board that what Asmodeus has that human men lack. Apparently basic women anatomy knowledge.

As much as he would love to take care of you again since he hasn't done that since his last wife. He doesn't think the Kings fully trust him yet so presents it is. He can tell what phase in your cycle by just scent alone, and that's scary.

Bonus non-canon:

Fem!Asmodeus: She doesn't give a fuck You better be on top of her or else she's going to have a problem. She always feels so horny her period.She's horny all the time

"It's going to be a bloodbath >:)!"

"please stop saying that..."-MC

[webbluvrsugar]

is this too freaky? ykw if you could just roll w it as a prompt i will give you my first born child.

ethan’s the type of guy to be an absolutely stuttering mess when he’s with you in public and then when he’s fucking you he puts his hand on your abdomen and says “feel me all up in your guts”

— 🦚

a/n: deffo not too freaky, this hit just the spot!! I think this is the most accurate headcanon about Ethan <33

proofread

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ Ethan hides his true nature from everybody else..

His friends don’t get it. They don’t get how you ended up dating a dork like Ethan, specially not one that can’t hold a simple conversation with you, but this ‘thing’ you have with him has lasted a couple months and they’re starting to actually believe you’re not fooling around with the boy, it’s weird to believe so, Ethan is just so… bland, and not to shame him or anything but they can’t help but wonder how you two work it out in the bedroom, it’s weird as hell, they wonder if you’ve even got to that base yet.

Ethan doesn’t like his private life to be out there for everyone to hear so when they do ask.. he just ignores their question with an angry mutter.

You’ve also thought this would never go anywhere, specially with not how Ethan acted around you in public — sure, he was cute, blushed every time you asked him anything, even if just a pen, and if you were thinking before, you’d never believe you’d get with a guy that acts that away. That is until… you’ve finally took the first step.

You were already kissing him when it happened, your hand wildly moving down to his pants, slipping underneath his shorts when he doesn’t complain, palming him through his boxers. His moves got wilder too, his hand went up to your throat and he used that to push you down on your bed, after that, Ethan showed a side of him you’ve never seen before.

You predicted he was a virgin or something, that you would have to guide him somehow — that plan went down the drain when he didn’t hesitate to pull down your panties and fuck you exactly how you wanted him to.

“Shit, Ethan, I —“ you moan, interrupting yourself as he leans down, the sudden movement makes him switch angles, reaching that spot in you that makes you lose all senses.

“You like it like this, huh?” He smirks, one of his hands caresses your face while the other one goes down from your chest to your stomach. “Yeah, I knew it, don’t worry baby, I’ll give it to you the way you wan’it.”

He pecks your lips, slows down his pace torturously, you can almost feel every inch coming in and out as he does so.

“Can you feel it?” He presses his hand down, right on your stomach, earns an exasperated mewl from you. “‘M all up in your guts.”

You’d never expect this from him, specially not the way he talks, the way he’s just so.. bold.

“Fuuck, you’re so tight,” he comments, releases the pressure on your stomach and moves his thumb down to your clit. “Almost made me cum inside you.”

He’s so casual with it, like the chance of him doing so doesn’t just fuck with your head even more.

“But I bet you’d like that, huh?”

[cuubism]

Covetous

E | Dreamling | 6.6k

fishbowl rescue, hurt/comfort, sex as a reward, dub-con, the intricate rituals that let you have touch and intimacy without admitting you need it

“Dream,” he says carefully, sitting down on the coffee table across from him. It’s new to him still, this name. Pulled from his stranger’s hoarse throat on their way out of the manor. Dream. His poor friend. Dream looks up at him. His expression is guarded. Wounded. “I owe you,” he says, in his low, sibilant voice, “a boon.” As a reward for his rescue, Dream offers Hob what he's always wanted most. Dream himself.

--

Hob’s beloved stranger is free. Miraculously imprisoned, and then freed by Hob’s hand. And never has freedom looked so fucking awful on a person.

He’s sitting on Hob’s couch like a crumpled bird, wrapped loosely in one of Hob’s shirts. It’s so oversized on him, even more than it normally would be on his narrow frame. His knees are knobby, his cheekbones sharp, hands pressed together in his lap in a mimicry of the way the manacles had bound his wrists. Bruised wrists, bruised throat, shadows under his eyes. God. Hob should have chained up Alex Burgess and thrown him in the glass cage for a change.

“Dream,” he says carefully, sitting down on the coffee table across from him. It’s new to him still, this name. Pulled from his stranger’s hoarse throat on their way out of the manor. Dream. His poor friend.

Dream looks up at him. His expression is guarded. Wounded. “I owe you,” he says, in his low, sibilant voice, “a boon.”

“For what?” Hob says. Dream continues looking at him meaningfully. “For rescuing you? No, you don’t.” He really thinks Hob’s that much of a profiteer?

“We are not even friends,” Dream says lowly, and ouch, that one hurts. “And you have risked the secret of your immortality to aid me.”

Hob refrains from saying that he considers Dream his friend, even if the bastard doesn’t return it.

“I will not leave that debt hanging,” Dream says, voice gaining strength. “Long have I been bound for use of my power and I will not have the same from you, Hob Gadling. Demand something of me, that this debt may be cleared and we be free of each other.”

“Okay, okay.” Hob raises a hand to placate him. He really wants rid of Hob that badly? That’s some gratitude. Insisting on transactional payment, when Hob rescued him because he cared about him? Assuming Hob must want some grand favor from him, when all Hob’s ever wanted is a second of his time and attention?

He lets out a long breath to calm himself. He’s so… frustrated. And angry, though it’s really more anger on Dream’s behalf, now without outlet as his captors are all dead.

“All I’ve ever wanted from you is you,” he says.

“Indeed?” says Dream with a bitter little laugh. Hob has never known him to have a particularly charitable view of things, but his imprisonment seems to have twisted that even further, carved him into a shell that only knows what it is to be hurt. “Not even your immortality?”

“You offered that,” Hob says. “And I would have gone after it whether you were there or not.”

Dream lets out another awful, dry laugh. Hob’s always wanted to hear him laugh, to know if he ever did, but not like this. “Seized it,” he agrees. “Demanded it. What was never for men to have.”

“That’s never stopped me,” Hob says. Dream is not the cause of him wanting to live, even if it was that chance encounter with him that enabled it, in the end.

“No,” Dream agrees. He meets Hob’s eyes again, challenging. Echoes Hob’s words: “All you wanted was me.”

“All I wanted was you,” Hob says. Some of the truest words he knows.

“Why?” says Dream, brow pinching. Genuinely asking. “I have given you little enough.”

Exactly, Hob thinks. Because I get minutes of you every century. Because being with you for those minutes is like touching another plane of existence entirely. Because you’re the most gorgeous and interesting thing I’ve ever seen and your attention, your interest, your approval is like a drug to me.

Instead, he says, “You know me. Greedy to the core. Given enough time, there’s very little in this life that I can’t manage to get. Except for you. Your time. You’re always at a remove. So high above.”

Dream nods as if this makes sense to him. A more acceptable explanation than that Hob might simply want to be with him. And it’s not untrue. But it’s certainly not the whole truth.

“It is agreed, then,” Dream says.

Hob frowns. “Sorry. What is?”

“All you have wanted was me,” Dream says, as if Hob should obviously know where he’s going with this. “Let the boon be sealed.”

“I don’t understand—”

Dream glares at him. He has always been quick to anger, but now it leaps off his tongue, smolders and burns for the slightest opportunity to rage. Well. That makes two of them. “Do not toy with me. I am not oblivious. I have seen the way you look upon me—”

Hob chokes.

“—so do not play at ignorance. If I am what you want in reward, then let it be done.”

Hob feels himself pale. Is he actually suggesting…?

“Dream—” He starts to reject him out of hand. To suggest some other favor if Dream is so hell-bent on it. Information, maybe, about Dream’s life, all the things Hob’s always been obsessively curious about. But.

Dream is not wrong. When Hob had said, all I ever wanted was you, he had meant it more broadly, but Dream’s interpretation of the statement is not incorrect. Hob does want him. In his bed. In his life. Has since he first saw him. Definitely has since Dream had looked at him from under his lashes like that in 1789, given him that damned smirk. He’d thought, in that moment, that Dream might want him too—it was one of the things that had given him the boldness to claim friendship a century later.

Hob wants him, wants to touch him, and have him, and see what he looks like when he’s losing himself to pleasure. Wants it feverishly. Painfully. And the way Dream is looking at him— there’s want there. In those shadowed eyes. In that body, bent and forced into an unnatural shape. He’s not looking at Hob with revulsion at the prospect. He did come up with it himself. And. Hob’s not sure he’s a good enough person to turn down his one chance at that offer. He’s not sure he’s a good person at all.

“Fine,” he says, and Dream looks briefly surprised, and then resigned, accepting. Like he had, fleetingly, thought better of Hob, but was not wholly surprised to be proven wrong. That hurts, too. But if Dream won’t even let them be friends, with the understanding and care contained therein, well, so be it. If Dream’s angry enough to do this to himself, then maybe Hob is, too.

He expects Dream to tell him how exactly this is supposed to work—presumably he has specific rules defining it as a debt and marking it paid—but for a long moment he just keeps sitting there in the aftermath of Hob’s agreement. Crumpled. Hands twisted together, bruises on his fingers. So Hob takes his hands, pulls them out of their violent twist. Dream lets him, going limp. That resignation. That, Hob doesn’t like.

He leans down and kisses Dream’s knuckles, then turns his hands over and kisses his palms. If he’s going to live out the long-held fantasy of having sex with his old stranger, then he’s going to do it the way he imagined. Not whatever way Dream expects of him.

When he looks up again, the cold touch of Dream’s hands lingering on his face, he’s just quick enough to catch Dream looking at him not with resignation, but with longing. It flees his face as soon as their gazes meet, but the afterimage lingers behind Hob’s eyes. Slides under his ribcage like a knife.

“Come on, darling,” he says, the endearment slipping out like that very knife pulled from a wound. He stands, pulling Dream to his feet with him. Now is probably not the best time to do this, but he suspects Dream will insist on it, wanting to be free of Hob—of their debt—as soon as possible so he can carry on his business unimpeded.

Hob leads Dream to the bedroom well aware of the blade he’s hanging over his own neck: if he does this, Dream won’t come back. He’ll clear their debt and that will be it, he’ll return to his mystical world and cut contact, end their prior agreement, knowing well exactly what he can expect from Hob, and that Hob really hasn’t changed at all.

Unless. Unless Hob can give him a reason to come back.

Dream is silent as he follows. He stops in the middle of the bedroom, feet bare on the carpet, Hob’s shirt hanging loose on him, face set in a harsh frown that trembles and wavers when Hob turns to him and, instead of pushing off his shirt and dragging him forward, takes his face between his hands.

Hob’s never had Dream this close. He can make out each strand of Dream’s hair, and the precise shade of his eyes, sea-storm blue. There’s defiance, there. Fire. Challenging Hob to take what he feels he’s owed. If he dares.

Challenge. Not resentment. Not revulsion.

So Hob kisses him.

He’s not a saint.

He’s not a saint, he’s exactly what Dream thinks him to be, greedy, and hungry, and unchanging. And he has wanted Dream for a very long time.

It’s easy to kiss him, the way it’s easy to slide a razor across one’s skin, the blade so sharp it barely stings. It’s easy to take his mouth, press inside, bite at his lower lip, hook his fingers around the sharp hinge of Dream’s jaw. Catch him. Gather him. Press warmth into his skeletal frame. It’s easy. It feels natural.

It feels natural like hunger. Natural, like seeing Dream standing over him in the inn that very first time, and the bright exploding sense that all before this had been obscured by smoke, and now for the first time he was seeing.

Dream makes a sound low in his throat, a moan quickly bitten off into a growl. Hob half-expects him to be passive, to decide he just wants to get it over with, but he’s not. He kisses back. Angrily, as if to punish Hob for his audacity, bites at Hob’s lip, grips his hips hard, the sharp points of his fingers digging in. It’s the intensity Hob always expected of him, when he fantasized about his stranger wanting him; it’s the low curl of his voice around Hob in the inn — you… dare? — grown claws.

Hob dares. Hob’s always dared. He dares to push the shirt, his shirt, off Dream’s shoulders, and he dares to pull his own shirt off over his head. He dares to walk Dream back towards the bed, and guide him up onto it, and to kick off his shoes and to follow him. He dares to study Dream’s bare form, laid out before him, but that is not a sharp dare, that is… a caress. A dream, in which he might hold his stranger close and trail fingers along every inch of his skin and his stranger none the wiser but feeling it, maybe, as a far off breath over the back of his neck. Stolen, that dream, but given back kinder.

Hob studies the gorgeous, bruised, sharp lines of him, the smudge of his hair, the shadows of his eyes, elegant fingers and sprawling legs and precise, round nipples, the stillness of him in repose, mouth slightly open, watching. Dream is more charcoal sketch than man, a memory of a lover drawn in the late hour, strong, pressed lines, and careful shading. If this all goes terribly wrong, if he can’t convince Dream how he really feels, that’s how Hob will remember him. As a shadow, a daydream, a vision filtered through the prism of the past.

He leans down from his place between Dream’s legs to kiss his sternum, then his belly which shivers at the touch, then low on his pelvis. Dream doesn’t move. When Hob looks up at him, he’s watching intently, eyes gone dark. With a measured touch he lays his fingers along Hob’s temples, dragging them to the corners of Hob’s eyes, nails sharp like claws, a sheathed threat. God, the audacity of Burgess to think he could keep this thing chained. Hob closes his eyes and, shivering with dangerous pleasure, lets Dream run his fingers over them, then retreat.

Dream’s sharp nails frame his cheeks. His voice rumbles above Hob, the turning of clouds, his tone fond, almost, but dangerous too. “My rescuer…”

Yes, Hob thinks, always.

“You have saved me,” says Dream. “You have returned me to my realm. And to myself.” The words have a sense of finality. “Now. Seize your prize.”

Seize, no, Hob thinks, but prize, yes. Dream is a prize, every second with him is. One Hob’s done little enough to earn, but takes eagerly either way.

“Take your reward of my body,” Dream continues, thumbs stroking Hob’s cheeks. “But know this.”

Hob opens his eyes and looks up at him. Dream’s voice is portentous. His eyes are swirling pits, dark, shadowed, and alluring.

“Know this,” he repeats, holding Hob’s gaze, “one cannot have a dream and remain unchanged. And to be so close to the Endless…” he runs his thumb over Hob’s lower lip. “Even more so.”

“Good,” Hob says. He doesn’t have to think about it; what more could he want than to be changed by Dream? He already has been.

Dream’s eyes flash with surprise, but slide quickly into satisfaction. It’s sick, almost, that look, like he would see Hob made twisted and wrong for what he wants, for what he’s taking. Fine. Good. Maybe Hob deserves it. The thought doesn’t make him want to stop. Dream can pierce him with his claws and undo him and Hob will only keep looking for him in every shadow.

He feels blissfully on edge from the danger. He ducks his head, Dream’s hands slipping off him, and goes low on Dream’s body, pressing his lips to the base of his cock, where he’s half-hard. Interested.

In Hob’s earliest fantasies of getting his mouth on his stranger it had not been like this. Dream had been powerful and strange and Hob had wanted to worship him, and to have Dream’s touch in his hair speak approval. But this Dream has no haughty approval left to offer him, only ashes and rage. And all Hob wants now is to taste him. Touch him, as Dream said, and be changed.  

He kisses his way up Dream’s cock, swipes over the head with his tongue, wraps his fingers around Dream’s bony hips. Then takes the head of his cock fully in his mouth, pulling a shallow gasp from Dream. His thighs tremble, his hips twitch up into Hob’s mouth. His stranger, always so controlled, must be terribly sensitive after having no pleasure at all for so many years. The thought causes an undeniable thrill.

He relishes in the weight of Dream on his tongue. In the shivering sighs of Dream above him, even more. His hands come to Hob’s hair, and his grip is not hesitant, it’s sharp. But he doesn’t try to move Hob. Only connects them through that point of pain.

He tastes metallic—not only his prick, or the drop of pre Hob pulls from him, but his skin too, when Hob pulls off and kisses his inner thigh, and the crook of his hip. There’s a tang to his skin that sticks to Hob’s tongue. He thinks it’s a relic of the magic that captured him, or the magic that had gotten him out. He wishes he knew the true taste of Dream’s skin.

Hob raises himself up on his arms, goes back up Dream’s body to capture his mouth. Dream tips his head back, baring his throat. Gentle now, instead of fighting. Hob bites under his jaw, wringing a cry from Dream’s lips. He adds his own bruise to the ring of them already painting Dream’s neck, then kisses over it, and the others besides, kisses pressing just hard enough to edge into pain.

Dream moves under him, legs wrapping around Hob’s hips. Hob gets one hand between them and finally unzips his trousers, takes himself out, grinds his cock against Dream’s. Rough fabric drags over Dream’s skin. Hob finds he likes the thought of it showing on Dream’s thighs later, the raw friction of them. He doesn’t like to see Dream battered, bruised, but with his bruises—well. That’s a different matter.

Dream catches his jaw and turns Hob back to his mouth, pulls him into a biting kiss, his tongue sweeping over Hob’s teeth. Then he meets Hob’s gaze, a hint of that dark imperiousness that Hob knows so well back in his eyes.

“If you intend to claim me for yourself,” he says, voice frayed at the edges and dripping shadow, “then do so fully. I will have all of your passion for me. Or nothing.”

Hob swallows hard, throat sticking. “That is quite a lot of passion, my friend.”

If anything, that only makes Dream seem more satisfied. “So it seems.”

Does he know what he could get Hob to do for him, in another situation? Here, now, Dream is for him—or so he’s set the bargain. But there is little Dream could not twist Hob’s passion for him into, if he only asked. It’s a dangerous thing to feel, and yet Hob is not afraid of it. There are worse things to lose oneself over than obsession with a strange, dear friend.

“I’ll have you, then,” he says. “If you insist. For now. But, you should know: if you find yourself trapped like that again, you can call on me. All of that passion also means that I will come for you.”

Dream’s eyes flash. “I will not be trapped like that again.”

Hob takes his wrists and presses them down into the bed, mimicking the circles of bruises bestowed by the manacles. “You were trapped once.”

Tendons flex under Hob’s hands. “Now you will bind me yourself?”

You bound me first, Hob thinks. As fast as a dog on a chain, as firm as a dog coming back and back again to the house where it was once left. Waiting. It’s a miracle he doesn’t want to force Dream to stay, just to stop waiting. It’s a miracle, given everything, that he finds the thought more sickening than anything else.

“We went over that, didn’t we?” He kisses each of Dream’s wrists, over his pulse, then releases him.

For a long moment, Dream leaves his hands where Hob pressed them, studying him. “I suppose so,” he says, considering.

That pain returns, what had first pierced him through when Dream proposed this ‘trade.’ You don’t think better of me? Perhaps Hob doesn’t deserve being thought better of. You don’t trust my friendship? It hurts more than anything, to think Dream believes Hob could do that to him. For not believing it to come as a surprise.

It hurts so much he nearly abandons this whole exercise, this pretense that— that he could actually want to take something from Dream, could want some reward from him, no matter how tempting it is when dangled before his face. The thing is that Dream is the great love of Hob’s life, and he isn’t Dream’s and he’s had to try to come to terms with that, and Dream’s body under his is making it harder, not easier.

“Hob.” Cold fingers find his jaw, and Hob realizes he’s closed his eyes, head hanging low. Dream tips his face back up, runs his thumb over the corner of Hob’s mouth, and Hob opens for him. There’s a new look in Dream’s eyes now, but he can’t quite read it. “Seal the bargain.”

The intensity of him bolsters Hob’s confidence, sets the want stirring in him again. He knows Dream doesn’t mean a kiss, but Hob kisses him anyway, sealing them together. Dream burns under him. His fingers frame Hob’s face, fire in each point where their skin touches. Dream wanted Hob’s passion. Well, he can have all of it.

He digs in the bedside drawer for lube, Dream tracking him with his gaze. He looks curious as Hob pours some out on his fingers, hitches Dream’s leg up further and reaches between them, pressing a finger to his entrance. Dream opens easily to him, gasping as Hob’s finger slips in.

“You needn’t— go to this trouble,” he breathes, unsteady. “Surely you need no reminder that my form is not human.”

“I’m not interested in your pain,” Hob says. Clearly, in this form, Dream can be hurt, the proof is all over his skin. Hob’s fantasies about him are myriad and sometimes dark but none have ever involved Dream hurt so Hob can take his pleasure. “I think you’ve had quite enough of it already, don’t you?”

Dream’s eyes flash in offense, and he opens his mouth to speak. Hob just holds his gaze, daring him to say that he wants to be hurt. But he doesn’t. His mouth closes again. The look on his face slips to something softer and hesitant, another crack opening in his assumptions about what this is. It’s almost trust.

Hob thinks that Dream would claw the expression away if he could see his own face. Better, then, that only Hob can see it, so he can hold it close, treasure it for longer. This is what Hob really wants, his real prize. Dream’s trust.

Even when you give me license to do something horrible to you, he thinks, I won’t.

Hob is a selfish man, but his most coveted treasure, often lost, always lusted after, is Dream’s regard. He doubts he’ll ever truly have it, but each flicker of new belief Dream shows him is a precious gemstone and he clings to them.

“Very well, then,” Dream finally concedes.

His body shivers, then sinks into the mattress as Hob starts moving again, working in and out of him. Dream is so serious and stoic that Hob had thought it would be difficult to get him to relax at all, but Dream just gives to him. Hob pushes a second finger in, and Dream groans, arching his back, gripping Hob’s shoulder with bruising fingertips. God he is beautiful like that, leaning into pleasure.

Hob meets his eyes, then, as he works him open, and catches, briefly, that look again. And that look—oh—it’s wanting. He wants.

It’s revelatory and exhilarating to see. Hob would do horrible things for that look. Anything to make him feel good.

He works Dream open like that, breathing in his quiet moans and the flex of his body under his hands. The way he tenses and relaxes in lengthening waves, played like a song at Hob’s fingertips. Then he settles between Dream’s thighs, Dream’s legs bent up around his hips. Such a vulnerable position he’s let Hob bend him into after so long curled in that sphere. It makes his breath catch; he has to treasure it.

As he lines himself up, he seals their lips together again, wrapping himself over Dream and pressing him under his weight, kissing him deeply. Dream gasps against his mouth as Hob pushes in. Hob breaches him so easily. Dream just opens to him.

Hob moans, overcome by the heat of his body. His grip tightens in Dream’s hair and Dream tilts his head back, exposing his neck for Hob to kiss. Hob kisses under his jaw, tastes his hammering pulse, drags teeth over the vulnerable skin of his throat, wrapped in bruises. Gives an experimental thrust of his hips and relishes in the way it punches Dream’s breath from his lungs. It’s delicious the way he responds, the way he feels, how sensitive he is, the sense Hob gets that if he could just play him right he could bring him out of his cage and make him feel, could be the first in a very long while to have and hold this creature and bring him pleasure—a gift, a privilege.

So this, then, is getting everything he’s ever wanted, and nothing at all. Dream delivered to his hands but as a sick prize, a one off trade for friendship. It makes the rising pleasure congeal in his throat, but Hob can only do what he always does. Make the most of it. Prove himself. If he can.

He sets himself to that task.

He covers Dream with his weight. Sets up a steady rhythm that has gasps and moans pushed from Dream’s throat. Dream’s body is tight and hot around him but better is each sound Hob can wring from him, those pleasured cries that curl through Hob’s belly like magic spells. He must be doing something right, to get those sounds, Dream must want it, must enjoy it. Dream thinks he himself is the reward, but no, it’s his pleasure—if Hob could bottle it he thinks it would make for greater power than whatever Burgess was trying to force from him. If Hob could keep it, he would be the richest man in the entire world.

“That’s it, darling,” he praises as Dream meets each of his movements, fingers gripping tight at Hob’s back. And instead of growling at him for calling The Lord of Dreams darling, Dream just shivers. “There you go, love. Is that good for you?”

“Hob,” Dream says, a ragged breath. Hob kisses him, catches that sound, and all that Dream shows him, that Dream gives him, pours all of it back into how he fucks him, steady, powerful rolls of his hips saying, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. Familiar, if now sweeter, to stepping into a vaulted basement, finding a well-known stranger through a haze of violence, chained hands and twisted limbs, and sure, strong touches, I’m here, I’m here, can you hear me? I was dreaming about you.

All that and Dream thought he wanted a reward.

All that and Dream made the reward his own starving body.

Hob pulls him close, wraps his arms around his back, presses his nose into Dream’s throat and breathes in. That way they’re pressed all together, skin-to-skin, he can feel each rise of Dream’s chest and the shivers still running through him and Dream’s fingers finding his hair and digging in. He was down there for decades, Hob thinks. Decades.

“Do not stop,” Dream orders. Hob hasn’t stopped moving, though he has slowed, now that they’re pressed so tightly together. But he follows Dream’s word. Doesn’t stop. Keeps rocking into him. Dream’s cock rubs against his belly, pressed between them. Meanwhile Hob kisses up Dream’s throat, over the bruises there, and under the sharp line of his jaw.

Decades.

Hob can’t fix it, but he can fill Dream up with everything he feels. Can rock them together, so close they could be one, can wrap his arms around Dream’s back and feel Dream’s thighs tightening around his hips and Dream’s breath over his ear. He can want, so hungrily, and taste Dream’s skin and hear the slick sounds of their bodies connecting and, in the corner of his hearing, his own imaginings of this moment almost loud enough to actually hear—

No. No those aren’t his dreams. Dream is panting and with each breath Hob feels skin— heat— care— want— these scattered flashes of feelings, and when he kisses Dream again, catching his mouth, Dream tastes like ash, and static, and his eyelids have fluttered shut.

Hob’s breath catches wet in his lungs. He hooks an arm under Dream’s thigh, hitches his leg up and presses in deeper, wringing a cry from Dream’s mouth. With the sight of Dream bent open before him, taking him like he was meant for it, heat rushes through Hob, his thighs and chest and belly burning with it. He bears Dream down hard into the bed, instinct taking over as his hips stutter quick and he comes.

Dream moans, low and ragged as Hob spills in him. Hob struggles to breathe through the tight heat of Dream clenching around him, overwhelming now, Dream’s limbs wrapped around him and heartbeat shaking under Hob’s chest. He almost pulls Dream close like any other lover, driven by the sleepy satiation and the pleasure of touching him. But Dream isn’t like any other lover.

And his erection is still pressed to Hob’s belly, and Hob won’t leave him wanting, whether that was considered part of the bargain or not. He carefully pulls out, and moves back down Dream’s body to take him in his mouth.

Dream goes tense, startled, and comes in his mouth with a gasp. Hob swallows him down eagerly, every drop, then looks up in time to catch Dream with his head thrown back on the pillow, neck craned, eyes closed, mouth open, thrown into in a shock of pleasure. Then he sags back to the bed, tension fleeing him again.

Hob’s very glad he didn’t miss that moment.

The urgency of arousal gone, Hob presses his face deep between Dream’s thighs, inhaling. Just feeling him.

Tentative fingers find his hair.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks, voice low and hoarse.

He seems… surprised, Hob thinks. By the indulgence. What, did he think Hob would get to have him and then cast him aside? Callously decide he’s had enough, declare their exchange completed, instead of devouring everything he might be allowed?

“Feeling you,” Hob says. He strokes a light hand up and down over his hip. Gentle, now, not charged with desire. He’s been wondering, since rescuing him, when the last time was that Dream was touched. Long before that, even: did that strange creature in the inn that first night they’d met have anyone who dared to lay hands on him?

He looks up again to find Dream studying him from under his lashes. “Truly,” he says, and if there’s a bit of a shake in his voice Hob won’t mention it, “you remain quite daring in seizing what you want, Hob Gadling.”

“Try not to do so much seizing, nowadays,” Hob says.

“A better man,” Dream says. The tone is somewhere between mocking and considering, like he can’t quite decide if he wants to be sarcastic about it or not. “Yet, you agreed to the exchange.”

Hob kisses low on Dream’s pelvis, then his belly, which shivers at the touch of his lips. “Are you surprised? I’ve always been a selfish man. And you offered me the grandest treasure I can imagine.”

“I am your grandest treasure?” Dream says, voice faint. “I was Roderick Burgess’s great treasure,” he says, but without the bite in it that there would have been before. He tentatively touches Hob’s temple, then cheek, light fingertips like he could impart some much-needed wisdom into Hob’s brain through the touch. “Would you, too, keep me for your own pleasure, Hob?”

“I’d keep you for your pleasure,” Hob says without fully thinking it through, and Dream’s eyes flash—almost offense, as before, but more so heat. His fingertips scratch at Hob’s skin, sharp as claws. “No, Dream, part of what makes you so beautiful is that you can’t be kept.”

Hob’s stranger is no ordinary lover to be plied with sweets into staying, no ordinary pet to be collared in jewels. Hob well knows what it is to think of him, to want him, to wait for him, to wish, more than anything, for his brief arrival, the sighting of a rare bird, the passing of a once-a-century comet.

“It is the chase, then, that’s compelled you all this time,” says Dream, like he has all of it figured out now. And like he’s maybe a bit disappointed by what he’s figured.

“It’s the wishing,” Hob says. I always knew I couldn’t keep you, he thinks, pained, but that didn’t stop me from wanting you. Dreaming about you.

Dream’s expression softens, ever so slightly. “What does it mean for you, then, that you’ve had me? Fulfilled this dream? Will you grow bored, and move to other pursuits?”

Hob can’t help it, he laughs. “Does the sun get bored of chasing the moon across the sky? You’ve only made me hungrier. Now that I know what it’s like, how will I ever be sated?”

Now that I know what it is to touch you in pleasure, he thinks, how will I tear my mind away from having you as my lover? How will I ever stop thinking about having you, about being with you? It’s a devil’s bargain he’s struck, in more ways than one, and his throat clogs with anticipatory grief. He no longer worries Dream will disappear on him forever, for he seems to have enjoyed himself, but when he leaves for a time to wherever it is he goes in the eons they’re apart he will leave behind a gaping tear in Hob’s heart that may one day scar over but will never fully close.

Dream’s fingers frame his jaw, surprisingly gentle. He tips Hob’s head up to face him. “Hob,” he says. That low voice is a caress. His expression is… almost fond. Hesitantly so. “Truly you are so intrigued by me?”

“Intrigued? More like in love with you,” Hob says, then immediately wants to cut out his own tongue.

Dream blinks once, twice. Says, “…Oh.” And Hob thinks, for the first time, he’s not only surprised him, but truly made him speechless.

Does he truly not know it already? Perhaps Hob has not said it in so many words, but he has never exactly been reserved, never subtle about his emotions the way Dream is, has never bothered to try. He’d thought Dream could read it plainly on his face all these years, and had only taken offense once Hob voiced it, once he implied that there might be reciprocity, for it couldn’t be offensive to be worshiped, could it? But to imply that his vaunted stranger might care for him in return, that was a presumption that could not go unpunished, or so Hob had thought.

“You freed me,” Dream says, working through it as he speaks.

“And I told you I didn’t want a reward, but you insisted.”

“All you wanted was me,” says Dream.

“Your attention,” Hob says. Cards on the table now. “Your interest. Your time.” Your care.

“Oh,” Dream says again. Hob’s really managed to strike him dumb. Is he so used to people only wanting things from him that he can’t possibly fathom it?

“I wasn’t trying to insult you when I called you my friend, all those years ago,” he says quietly.

“No,” Dream agrees, contemplative. “I suppose not.”

His questing fingers trace Hob’s throat. Hob swallows hard.

“Guess you’ll vanish back to your duties now,” he says. Too bitter. “Boon granted and all.”

Instead of vanishing, Dream says, “You… love me.”

“Don’t need to keep saying it if you’re just going to tear it up,” Hob says. “Yes, I saved you because I love you. I killed people for you because I love you, don’t you know I don’t just go around killing for anyone in this day and age? God forbid it was necessary I’d do it again and that time there wouldn’t be any boon.”

Hob’s not sure he strictly had to kill all of them. Could probably have chased some of the guards away in the end. He wasn’t exactly thinking compassionately once he caught sight of Dream in that sphere.

“Did you kill them to gain my favor?” Dream asks.

“No.” He meets Dream’s eyes. “For the pleasure of it. And I would again— not for your favor, but for the way you’d look at me.”

For the way Dream had looked at him, when Hob had dropped the last guard’s limp body to the ground and had pressed a bloodstained hand to the glass cage. The wonder there, when Dream—still his stranger, Hob hadn’t yet gotten his name—had raised his own shaking, bruised, chained hands to touch back.

Hob had been surrounded by carnage and he’d still felt like he’d done something right. For the arbiter of what felt right was no god he’d ever been taught to worship, but the dark figure who’d granted him immortality. The dark stranger he loved, who could have laid a hand on his forehead and bid him do anything and Hob would have done it, and felt it righteous.

Dream lays a hand on Hob’s forehead. His fingers are cold. Hob takes that hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, warming the skin with his breath.

“I believe,” Dream says lowly, “I may still owe you.”

Hob sighs. “Dream, we went over this, you never—”

Dream covers Hob’s mouth with his thumb, stilling his words.

“Such great services rendered,” Dream continues, solemn gaze fixed on Hob’s, “and at such risk to yourself, surely deserve more reward. Your loyalty, your…” his eyes track over Hob’s body, where Hob’s still half-draped over him, appreciative, “consideration, surely beg a higher price.”

Hob is caught on his expression. Pinned in place, as he so easily is by Dream. “What did you have in mind?”

“When I have retrieved my tools. And restored my realm.” His tongue darts out, briefly, to wet his lips. “Perhaps I might return.”

“Perhaps you might,” Hob says. He’s slow but he’s gradually learning to catch on to how Dream communicates. That’s if he can wrap his mind around the impossibility of what he might be saying. “Perhaps you might… grant me more of your time. As recompense.”

“Yes. And perhaps you might. Consider. What you want of me while I am here.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty I’ll want with you,” Hob says, throat tight. He finally pushes himself up from where he’s still draped over Dream, and instead lies on his side next to him, so they’re at eye level. He pushes an unruly strand of Dream’s hair behind his ear. An act that still feels somewhat daring, but less so with each passing moment. Dream studies him, eyes wide and dark. Oh, Dream, Hob thinks.

“Maybe I’ll take some of that payment now,” he says.

“Will you?”

“Too greedy not to take everything on offer.” He uses the hand still dug into Dream’s hair to draw him in close, press their bodies together, wrap his arms around Dream’s back, palms flat over the sharp edges of his shoulder blades. Dream’s heart beats quick under his fragile ribcage, uneven breaths ghost over Hob’s shoulder, and tentatively, Dream’s bony arms come up to grasp onto him. He presses his face into Hob’s throat. His hair tickles Hob’s cheek. And Hob thinks, with a deep, throbbing pain, no, actually, there are greater rewards than his pleasure.

He holds Dream for some moments, until Dream’s skin, perpetually on the edge of cold, has warmed at all the points where they’re touching. Hob draws a blanket from the base of the bed over them. Dream shivers, the shake of cold leaving the body, then settles back against him.

“I hope this shows some measure of thanks,” Dream says quietly, face still buried in Hob’s skin, “for your service.”

Hob breathes out hard, chest heavy, but steadies his voice before responding. “How about I let you know when we’re even?”

Dream lets out a long sigh. “Very well. I will trust you to carry the scale.”

Dream’s trust alone is worth more than gold, in Hob’s estimation. But he thinks Dream might not point out if Hob measures it in pyrite. He thinks, as he runs his hand up and down over Dream’s sore, bony back, as Dream sighs again, melting into him, that neither of them might mind if that scale stays tipped for a very long time, indeed.

Perhaps, Hob hopes, until there’s no more need for it at all.

[cicadabooks]

aaaaa finally i feel justified for reluctantly finishing the first Monk and Robot book with a :/ face, and then feeling even more :/ :/ :/ about reading the 2nd book. Which I did not read, and it looks like this was the correct choice, for me.

"Underbaked" is a decent summary of the first book - people (....often white people I feel like....) would recommend the book and how they loved it, and when I finally read it, I was just like.... This author is over-reaching and floundering around in areas she doesn't know much about. (And also this book felt very White Person writing world building to me.) Even the final pep talk by Mosscap rubbed me the wrong way. It was obvs just Not the Book For Me. (Also winning a Hugo.... It's not the worst book, but...? I think people are being bamboozled a bit.)

I remember the author's approach to nature was weird. I remember thinking "people live in nature, we're part of nature, and to just have the two drastically split is disturbing. Also I don't think this author has ever actually walked through the woods, or at least not more than three times."

OP's line above ("The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature.") is making me specifically remember what I didn't like. :( wtf. Are indigenous people and their land stewardship a joke to you. Where were you when the Dakota Access Pipeline protests were happening last decade. That was a large amount of news. At this point, this is a you problem, Becky Chambers.

Also shoutout to "also tbh I think Becky chambers has also just never gone fishing in her life and was not curious enough about her own concept to research how you're supposed to kill a fish" in the comments section from OP -

Because, as I mentioned earlier, I had the same reaction even in book one!? About doubting if the author actually spent time in nature, or considered nature a lot, or knew much about nature (for a book that... spends time in nature...). Neither the first book's vibes, or this wretched fish thing, are the vibes of people I know who spend time in the wild (as a hobby or professionally).

(Also, I think those people I know, and me, and many other humans, would be miserable being cut off from wild nature. Some things are just in the blood. I was always yearning for the ocean growing up, and I swear it was handed down to me by blood from my mother who grew up on an island. When I finally lived in a place near the ocean and got to be in ocean waters a lot more, I was like YES I AM HOME and happy in my bones. Every time I get too sad it's because I have spent too much time away from ocean and some proper wilderness.)

(and we're not even getting into how much human culture, esp indigenous cultures, have cultural transmissions tied in with nature.)

(Like I know OP's essay was more examining passivity and the implications at large in these books.... Whereas looking back, I think I got stuck on "Humans aren't allowed to go into nature" in book one and I was horrified by this and I never got past this part. This book was a dystopia for me.)

Anyway OP thank you for summarizing the 2nd book, yikes and also that was fun to read.

Also this is all ironic/sad because I actually liked the author's first book! When I read it years ago. (A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet) It was fun! I love me a motley crew of people in space ships becoming friends and having adventures. I had issues with the handling of sex/gender stuff, but at the time I gave it a pass. The rest of the books in that series didn't stand out to me, but I picked up whatever the author wrote anyway. I was disappointed when I picked up these monk robot books more recently. We're not even having, like... having that much fun here :( There's apparently fish dying in bizarre ways.

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[theesteppenwolf]

Ok y’all imma need you to listen to me on this and not take me the wrong way, i am just venting yet again. I need to get shit out of my system and yapping with others is the way i do it.

I love neve, she’s such a dope character, adore her to bits. Don’t be weird about her.

But every time i see scenes and lines of dialogue that Lucanis/ Neve get that 100% should’ve been there for Rook too i get pissed off. I can’t help it.

To be entirely clear on this, it’s not that i have a problem at all with them getting together if neither aren’t romanced it’s that the writing for their relationship highlights the glaring oversight Lucanis/Rook get.

Even the banter around them has more depth than what rook gets. His lock in scene is just a refurbished Neve one, one that’s again, more fulfilling if Neve is the one he romances. It’s just insane to me that someone looked at this and said “yeah players won’t have a problem with this”.

I am not one of those people that thinks Lucanis is just settling for Rook or he cares more about Neve than them, i think that’s too doomery and untrue narratively. But they fucked up the writing for Rookanis so bad that i completely get where that is coming from.

I have a shit ton of hcs to make his whole romance arc better but then i see something from the Neve/Lucanis one and i am reminded that they really didn’t give a shit in the actual game. Again it's the quality and quantity of the writing that i am getting angry at by comparison, not the general concept of them being together. I can't stress that enough.

If Mary Kirby managed to write (or cowrite) the whole thing with Neve and those scenes/dialogue i really don’t understand why Rook barely exists in theirs until the very end of the game.

Ok i am done, vent over. Again please don’t say weird shit about Neve and be hateful. I don’t want another fem character getting an absurd amount of hate for something writers did.

[amourluvie]

Hi! May I please request Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair, and Mr. Scarletella with a really expressive reader?

They're not afraid to show how they're really feeling, whether it be happiness, anger, or just pure disgust, they're just perfectly in character that it's almost interesting/funny to them.

Thank you! ❤️

OF COURSE!! (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sorry for the late answer (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

၇͜ᩘ❘🖥️ homicipher boys x expressive!reader ᨶᯃྀི✿

notes ꒰ ͟͡ || ͟͡ ꒱ what do you guys think of my new theme ? (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠)

characters ꒰ ͟͡ || ͟͡ ꒱ mr crawling,mr silvair,mr scarletella from homicipher

MR CRAWLING ᨶᯃྀི✿

- you have been always interesting to him,you weren't the type to fake your feelings,and how your feeling which he can tell by your facial expressions and body language.

- he also admired you alot for it,calling you cute and a interesting human.

- you weren't scared to tell him how you felt about him,which made him fall for you even more.

- it didn't matter if you were angry and being all loud for no reason,or when you cried until your tears dried out.

- he's always there to be there for you and make sure you have the happy look on your face whenever your with him,if you were happy,he was happy,if you were mad,he was mad.

MR SCARLETELLA ᨶᯃྀི✿

- you were,very alluring to him.

- whenever he spot you walking around,he would notice that there's a new side to you everytime,sometimes the bright with a radiant smile one,the firing and mad one and at times the all sad and gloomy one.

- you were more than interesting to him

- he'd stalk you sometimes, curiosity sparking in his dead and eerie eyes as he monitors every move you made,every word you said- and of course the different types of looks on your face.

- when he finally got "close" to you,he would study your facial expressions even more.

- he wanted to put on a smile on your face at all times.

MR SILVAIR ᨶᯃྀི✿

- you were unlike the others.

- you were very blunt with how you were feeling- even about him with no care in the world

- he wouldn't admit it,but oh how he liked that about you and wanted to get to know you more.

- whenever you got hurt,you weren't afraid to express hurt- your facial expressions saying it all as he heals you.

- he wanted to make you feel safe and healthy at all times,and ofcourse loved and cherished for too.

[glitteringdust]

Lucanis and Spite's reaction to Rook being trapped in the Regret prison, or, if someone already asked that, romanced Lucanis having to tell Viago (massive older brother vibes) that Crow!Rook is stuck in the Regret prison

Standing in the entrance of Rook's room, Lucanis closes his eyes.

For a moment, he swears he feels her right there— sitting on the couch, curled over her notebook making a sketch of something she couldn't get out of her head.

The room still smells of cinnamon spice from the incense she always had burning on the far dresser. Her clothes would be everywhere, along with loose notes and bits of potion ingredients scattered about.The fade window of swimming fish would remind him of the Ossuary like it always did— sending a sour storm of adrenaline straight to his chest. Only by Rook's sweet face murmuring soft reassurances would he return to the present, back in her presence.

The moment passes and he knows what he will see when he opens his eyes. Nothing is as it should be.

Rook is gone. Gone. Betrayed by Solas.

Spite bristles along his spine at the thought. Lucanis clenches a fist as he battles the demon's anger as well as his own. For once, they were both equally powerless to rescue her.

We find her. We find Rook.

Spite was angry more than anything else, bleeding into Lucanis' every thought. He wanted revenge, action… something to stab and kill and as far as the demon was concerned the team was doing nothing at all.

But they had no choice, so all they could do was bide their time, recoup their resources and figure out a plan to find Rook.

—

In the fleeting moments he's able to close his eyes and sleep, he still sees the flash of light in his dreams. A bright flash, Rook's horrified voice shouting his name, and then nothing. It was unnerving, seeing it over and over again. Spite seemed almost as incapacitated by the dreams as Lucanis was.

Emmrich once said spirits could experience intense mood shifts during stress, perhaps that was the reason why he kept bringing Lucanis' sleeping body to Rook's room. To feel better.

She always made things better.

Ever since she disappeared, everything around them had dampened. Colors, taste… all of it was muffled without her around. Was she even alive? How could they know? They killed one god, and faced two more. Who could say she hadn’t been vaporized by Solas?

No. I feel her.

“You feel her because this is her room, Spite. You don't know that she lives.”

You give up?

"Never. Not until I see her body."

There's a feeling of approval. Never again lose what's ours.

He should leave her room, if he plans to get anything done today. He needs to travel to Treviso still, update Teia and Viago about Rook. He'd already waited a week too long. He knows the conversation might end up with Viago trying to kill him, but they needed to know. They were her only other family, after all. As he turns to go, he spots a loose piece of paper peeking out from under the couch. Spite urges him to pick it up, stronger than ever.

It's a sketch of himself, outlined in purple. Underneath, the words vhenan as well as the following:

“Say it, before it's too late.”

He thinks to the night before she disappeared, how she'd come for their usual evening drink but was preoccupied. Nervous. Surely she was just anxious about the next day's events, but instead….

She loves him.

He told her not to make a promise she couldn't keep, yet here he was having broken the last half of his. He didn't keep her safe that day.

Should she not return, every blighted creature would feel his blade.

[littlefireball]

ᴊʜ|ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ʙᴀᴅ (ᴀ)(ᴍ)

ᴘᴇʀᴠ!ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x 9ᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx(ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)|ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜɪᴇꜰ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx(?)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.3ᴋ

Part 2 of perv!JH x 9th member

One day, while you were tidying up your closet, you noticed that your underwear collection was getting pretty sparse. It struck you as odd since you hadn't tossed out that many. You figured maybe you had stashed some in a different closet and didn't think much of it. So, you picked up a few more pairs and moved all your underwear to another cabinet. 

When Jongho opened your drawer like he usually does, he couldn't find your underwear. Just then, he heard someone say something from behind.

"What are you looking at?Panties thief." 

Oh shit. He fucked up.

He jumped up nervously when he heard your voice. As he turned around slowly, he rubbed his hands together, only to find your angry gaze waiting for him. But instead of feeling nervous or guilty, he was turned on more. There you stood once more, clad in a towel that barely covered you. Your exposed thighs were visible, and your chest appeared even more alluring as you pushed it up by crossing your arms.

"What can you explain?Huh?" You yelled angrily. Jongho stammered, no words formed even if he opened his mouth. You stepped forward,  locking your gaze onto the man who gulped nervously, your enchanting fragrance enveloping him. Gosh. You smelled so good and he found himself drawn to breathe in your captivating aroma.

"Say something, asshole!" 

"Yah!Fuck!" He stepped in even nearer, his large frame casting a shadow over you. Towering above, his height made you instinctively flinch and look away. Then, with a soft touch, he bent down and cradled your chin in his hand. "Then who is always wearing only a towel?Don't tell me you forget your pajamas every time." 

"That's not the main point!Don't try to distract me!" You said that with a sheepish expression, which made him smile. He knew you so well. You're definitely the most reserved one in the group, and you keep your daily style pretty polished, avoiding anything too flashy. Only wearing a towel before your members? He couldn't believe you were not doing it on purpose. 

"You fucking stole me panties!You fucking pervert!!What're you doing with it?!" You pushed away his hand, totally pissed off. 

"You guess?" 

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You smacked at him, but he held your wrists tight to stop you. 

"Hit me harder or your towel will slip down." He spoke with a serene demeanor, his smile only fueling your frustration. You clenched your arms, feeling the towel slip further down. As the realization hit that you were on the verge of exposing yourself, heat rushed to your cheeks, leaving you utterly flustered.

"You fucking bastard, let me go." You tried to shake off his hands but he was too strong. 

"How can you say this to your oppa?" 

"You…shut up!" 

"But I don't want to." He grabbed your wrists, pulling you to his embrace. Leaning down to meet your gaze, his hot breath pooled against your skin. "Unless you want to be naked in front of me." 

"You…you totally a pervert!" You looked away, pursing your lips. 

"Don't tell me you are not." 

"Why am I?" You shouted back.

"So tell me why you are wearing a towel?" 

"I…I…forget my clothes." You trailed off, feeling too shy. 

"Is it?" A playful smile danced across his face as he straightened up to gaze at the bathroom. In the mirror, he caught sight of your pajamas draped casually behind the door. "And what about that dress? Isn't that your sleepwear?"

"I-" 

"Forget to wear clothes when I'm here?" He sneered, pressing his chest against your fists. "Aren't you a pervert?" 

"I-I'm not…" 

"Are you going to continue to be tough, cutie?" 

"Then…then what 'bout you?!You…you stole my panties!" 

"I admit." 

"What?" You gasped in surprise, your eyes growing wide. He pulled you close, his arm encircling your waist, prompting you to rise onto your tiptoes and lean into him.

"Because I want you so bad, love." He stared at your rosy lips before shifting to your eyes. "Then what about you?"

You couldn't deny that you were intentionally drawing him in. Each time he took your hand or brushed against you, a swarm of butterflies danced in your stomach. You were fully aware of the way he gazed at you, like a hunter eyeing his target, yet you feigned ignorance. Whenever he entered your room, a part of you secretly wished for him to linger, prompting you to conjure up reasons for him to stay—suggesting movie marathons or gaming sessions, all while seeking those fleeting moments of closeness.

"Cat gets your tongue, honey?" The name he said gave you shivers, even stirring the depressed desire within you. 

"So can you tell me what would you do if I admit I'm doing all the things on purpose?" Your hand found its way to his nape, wrapping around it to pull him closer. 

"I will kiss you so hard and give my girl all the attention she needs." With a warm smile, he bent closer, his lips brushing against yours as you nodded in agreement. The initial kisses were a bit awkward, a reflection of your inexperience, but soon Jongho's confidence took over, igniting a fiery passion between you. 

Suddenly, a chill enveloped you as your towel slipped away, landing on the floor with a soft thud, causing you to gasp in shock. Seizing the moment, Jongho deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring as you instinctively recoiled in surprise. Yet, he gently but firmly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you remained lost in the intoxicating kisses. 

You both laughed softly as you broke away from the kisses, only to reconnect as he lifted you with ease. With a playful shove, he sent you onto the bed, the mattress releasing a soft puff as you landed. He shrugged off his coat and unzipped his pants, his eyes roaming over your naked figure. You were undeniably stunning, really.

"I don't have a condom." He tossed his clothes aside in a frenzy, unconcerned about the time it took to search for them.

"Me either." 

"Well, one kid doesn't kill. Damn it." Your lips met again as he cupped your face and loomed over you. That was much rougher than last time. He kissed you without care. Lips sucking and smacking were the only sound in the room, fueling your desires even more. His arched crotch pressed against your velvet clit, every friction made from his movement caused you to moan in his mouth. Your legs found their way to wrap up his waist, trying to get more friction as you rub harder. 

"Someone is horny, huh?" He spoke between the kisses, his face diving into your neck as he planted kisses on that. 

"Aren't you?" You replied with a soft voice, tilting your head to give him more access. He smirked at your response, licking your skin to find you trembling. 

"So sensitive." His voice flowed like warm honey, pulling you into the enchanting whirlpool that was him. You relished the way his breath caressed your skin, a soft melody that seemed to savor you like a delicacy. His hand reached down to press your clit, causing you to let out a soft whimper as his touches went further. His fingers glided over your body, a gentle friction on your sensitive spot that made you whimper with delight. He suddenly flattened his fingertip to give a hard press and circle on it and you couldn't help but moan loudly. Stretching your fold slowly, he inserted two fingers into your tightness in one go. 

"Jjong…!" 

"Shh…gotta prepare you well." 

He went as deep as possible until his finger reached your limit, pulling them out fully and shoving back to the depth. Your choppy moan was swallowed by his kiss, only a muffled sound flew from your lips. His pace quickened enough to ruin you, a loud water sound echoed the room as he plunged to your cunt without mercy. You moaned so loud and your face turned red as if oxygen got out of your lungs. 

Your toes curled as you were pushed to the edge, a knot forming in your stomach that urge to release. The wall wrapped around Jongho's fingers tightened and he knew you at the limit. "Cum for me, honey." "Mhm…" His words were just like a trigger, combined with his fingertip kissing your sweet spot suddenly, tugging you to the climax. Your whole body shook as the hot juices released from your lower core, soaking his hand. 

"Good,dear. Look at you." He said, his voice deep and attractive. Your fuzzy eyes met with him sucking his fingers deliciously and left a pop sound when he pulled out. 

"Ready for me?" A smirk crossed on his lips as he climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping down due to his weight. He grabbed his length to pat on your clit, entering your cunt after you nodded as a non-verbal agreement. Shutting your eyes tightly, you arched your back and wrapped your arms around his board shoulder. You leaned back as he hovered you, meeting your lips gently. He stayed still for a while to let you adjust his size. Even if he stretched you but that was not enough for his big fat cock. 

His hand once again reached down to caress your clit, giving you more excitement to make you relax. Once he found you not that intense, he slid deeper as if testing water. Everything was slow and gentle. You naturally got used to his size as his length kept rubbing along your curve deliciously. The way his hard tip kissed your sweet spot caused a wave of pleasure to rush through your body. 

You swore his pre-cum filled your cunt everywhere as it was so hot inside you. He became more impatient as he deepened the kisses. He pulled up your hands above your head, tucking them together so that he could grab them in one hand. Sitting up straight, he slammed his hips toward you as a long, deep moan left his rosy lips. "Damn it, you are so good. I gotta be rough with you." 

"Yes…yes…please." You gasped, tilting your head back to reveal your neck adorned with his marks. With each powerful thrust, a flicker of concern crossed your mind about the bed's stability. The creaking noise echoed around you, making you wonder if it would give way at any moment. Jongho was unfazed; he collided with your warmth, disregarding any potential fallout. Sure, dance practice might be off the table tomorrow since your backs were aching. But who cared? He brushed aside the thought with a carefree attitude as he pounded your cervix with a different angle. 

"Slow…slow down…jjong…" 

"Nope." Withdrawing his cock, he spun you around in an instant, your head hitting the pillow as he held you down, your backside elevated enticingly. With a firm grip on your wrists, he secured your arms behind you, pinning them down with an unyielding strength. One of his hands moved to your nape, grasping it tightly as he continued to roll his hips into you. You moaned so loud that your neighbor must complain tomorrow. But the roughness behind left you no choice. The messy moaning mixed with skin slapping sound, bouncing off the wall to make Jongho go rougher. 

"No…I can't take it…anymore." You huffed, but soon replaced by a high-pitched moan as he spanked you. 

"Just take it, honey." Smack, again. His hand sneaked under your body, reaching to your chest. Cupping it with his palm, he teased your nipple, rubbing it up and down. "So soft." You could only whine, feeling his cock ruin your sensitive, little body. "Hm…" His ball slammed your ass each time he thrashed back to your cunt at a steady pace. You couldn't help but squeeze hard around his cock with your wall, pulling him deeper to kiss the deepest part. 

This sensation made Jongho lost control. "Ah fuck!I'm cumming." A long throaty moan flew from his lips as the climax was approaching. It seemed that all the blood gathered on the tip, urging him to release. "Jongho…oppa…I'm so close." Your fist clenched around the sheet, making your fingertip turn white. "Show me what you get. Honey. Ah fuck!" His moaning was just like a beautiful melody rang in your ears, pushing you to get close to the limit. 

"Oh…oh…!" The harsh trusting lost its rhythm as Jongho became slow. He left his head each time he pushed deeply, staying for a while before another thrusting. A soft whimper left your body as all was overwhelming, the urge of releasing caused your heart to race.

"I can't take it anymore…" Tears gathered in your eyes, your bottom lips shaking as soon as his hard tip kept kissing your spot. 

"Cum…cum with me…Oh fuckkk…" He gasped and strained, releasing his warm essence against your wall, and in that moment, you both reached the peak of ecstasy together. The warmth filled you completely, spilling over onto the sheets. As he laid you down tenderly, he turned you over, only to find your tear-streaked face. He reached down to kiss you as if giving you a tender comfort. 

"You okay?" The words slipped from his lips with a soft pop as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded, pulling him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulder. 

"What about tomorrow's practice?" 

"Uh…just tell them your back hurts because I fucked you too hard."

"Yah! Choi Jongho!" You playfully hit his chest, but he just grinned at you with that charming smile.

"I can see you're still full of energy. Want a round two?" He laughed, teasingly pushing against you once more.

"No way…" A soft moan escaped you as the sensations overwhelmed you. You quickly pressed your lips together, but he caught every bit of your reaction.

"So, you're not denying it?"

"Wait─" Before you could finish your thought, he captured your lips in another kiss and pulled you into a cozy embrace. 

Well, this night was turning out to be incredibly long.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

[buddiebeginz]

For everyone hoping and or expecting there to be something huge in the mid season finale on Thursday and who will feel let down and upset if there's not I wanted to point out some things.

First of all Tim just came back in s7 and it was a shortened season. I know we all had issues with how that season was handled but I also think Tim had a lot to figure out for having just come back to show. He was bringing 911 to a new network had only 10 eps to tell the entire seasons stories in. It was also a rather important season considering it was where they finally had Buck come out and where the pieces were finally being put into motion for Buddie to happen eventually (like in episode 704).

But I also think a lot of stuff Tim wanted to do in s7 he didn't get to and instead carried it over to s8 where he felt he had more time. The majority of 8a was spent closing out storylines that started in s7. What people have to realize is that a lot of this likely would have been the second half of season 7 had that been a full season. Now going into 8b I expect to see more focus put on Eddie's coming out and more movement towards Buddie happening.

None of this means that the mid season finale will necessarily be a huge ep or have a nde or have Eddie come out or Buddie kiss or anything like that. This ep may be pretty similar to the one we saw last week especially because like some have pointed out Tim and the others may have been expecting 809 to be the mid season finale not 808. And besides that 911's mid season finales have rarely been these huge events. Those were usually saved for other eps.

---------------------------------

S1 -

shortened season - no mid season finale

no real NDE's although you could say the plane disaster was one for Bobby

S2 -

210 - mid season finale - It's revealed that Chim's friend is Doug

*2b*

211/212/213 - Chim begins/ Doug attacks Chim and takes Maddie

217 - Shannon dies car accident

218 - Buck NDE truck bombing

S3 -

302/303 - Buck and Chris NDE tsunami

308 - Hen NDE car accident (a few eps before mid season finale)

Bobby radiation exposure 309 (one ep before mid season finale)

310 - mid season ep - Michael cancer diagnosis

*3b*

314 - dispatch center/Maddie held hostage

315 - Eddie NDE well

317 - Athena NDE r*pist

S4 -

shortened season because of Covid no mid season finale

405 - Buck NDE fire

409 - Albert NDE car accident

413/414 - Eddie NDE shooting

S5 -

506 - Buddie kidnapping

508 - Hospital (where David worked) fire

510 - mid season ep Eddie leaves the 118

*5b*

513 - Eddie breakdown

516 - dispatch fire

517 - Hen/Chim - NDE - jonah

S6 -

Mid season ep - Bobby's sponsor dying

*6b*

610/611 - Buck NDE lightning strike

618 - 118 NDE bridge collapse

S7 -

shortened season - no mid season finale

701-703 - Bathena NDE - cruise ship disaster

708-710 Bathena NDE - Cartel/Fire

S8 -

802/803 - Athena NDE plane emergency

805 - Denny NDE

---------------------------------

Looking at the way 911 has structured it's seasons in the past it's far more likely that if we're going to get a nde for Buddie or one of them we're going to get it later in the season and not at the mid season. We could get a more surprising moment like we've seen in the past like with Eddie leaving the 118 but like I said before I think it's highly probable that 808 wasn't meant to even be the season finale so a more shocking or surprising moments might not even be until 809 when the show comes back.

I just really think we all need to take a look how the show operates and prepare ourselves so we're not too let down. Also as much as I love coming up with theories and love listening to theories everyone else comes up with I feel like it's become a habit lately in our fandom for some people to get everyone excited and expecting certain things from the show. Then when the show doesn't deliver every single episode people are left feeling angry. This isn't just the fault of the people talking about their theories it's a fandom issue in general I think. I wish our fandom would just be more realistic going into each ep and not so quick to turn on the show if expectations aren't met immediately.

I 100% believe Eddie is going to come out and Buddie is happening. I've been watching the show for years and things have never been as close to Buddie canon as they are now but that doesn't mean it will happen instantly. Everything that's being shown and said (in interviews) is telling us that the show is playing the long game. We have to be patient and wait for them to get there, which I know can be really frustrating, trust me I've been waiting for Buddie's love story to be canon for what feels like forever. I think we will see more movement in Eddie and Buddie's story this season but maybe not this episode coming.

----

I also think it's important that we show our love for the show and the people who work on it more. I feel like a lot of the stuff I see out of our fandom lately is pretty negative. I'm not saying it's not warranted or that I don't do my own share too (I was talking just the other day on twitter about my issues with Athena's storylines) but I also can't help to think of how Oliver and Ryan and the others must feel. Imagine working really hard on something and then going online to see how the audience feels about it and the predominate reaction is about how awful the episode was. I definitely believe it's possible to love 911 (and any media really) and still be critical of it at times but I also think sometimes our fandom focuses too much on what we're not getting from the show and less on what we are.

We are incredibly lucky to have two amazing actors who put such love and care into playing Buck and Eddie and who have always been supportive of our ship. We're lucky that pretty much everyone involved with 911 (minus maybe KR) seems to be supportive of Buddie happening because trust me that's not common among a lot of other non canon queer ships. We're lucky that Buck has finally come out and that all signs are pointing towards Eddie coming out too. We're lucky that the show is even still on the air because it was seriously on the brink of being canceled before abc picked it up. If it had been not only would we have no chance of Buddie but Buck would never have come out and both men would have ended their run on the show with those lackluster partners. And speaking of lackluster partners we're lucky that Tim got rid of Tommy. I know he could have done it sooner but he also could have kept him around longer. I think some of you need to realize that making Buddie a reality is still a risk for the show and for abc. Having another main come out is still risky but they seem ready to take the risk.

Sorry this post got so long. I just had a lot of thoughts with the new ep coming and seeing everyone already prepared to be upset about it. Let's just go into this ep with limited expectations and be happy we get to go into a hiatus for the first time in a while without b/t being a thing. Thanks if you taken the time to read all of this. ❤️

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 7

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: descriptions of anxiety + guilt, piv sex WC: 7.8k AN: hello my darlings!! i am back!!! (from the dead aka first semester of my PhD) i've missed you all so much. this chapter took sooooo long to write because i wanted to get everything just right, but we have now entered phase 2 of the fic, where new shenanigans begin. stay tuned!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, [Ch. 7], Ch. 8

Chapter 7: Burning

"Need to talk to you," Anakin blurted out loudly over the music, obviously catching you by surprise based on your empty, blinking face. The guy who was upsettingly close to you shot him a look equal parts murder and possessiveness, and Anakin's lip curled in disgust. His face looked eminently punchable, and Anakin could just imagine the satisfaction of his fist in the guy's cheekbone, or the way he would buckle after one good hit to the stomach.

Somewhere, a rational part of him reminded him that this was not caveman times, and that you had agency and were allowed to make your own choices, but Anakin silenced it. Feeling angry was easier than admitting that it felt like his organs were being torn out when he saw you flirting with anyone else. Thinking about kicking the shit out of some random guy was easier than admitting that knowing you had put this outfit on for someone else, someone other than him, was killing him.

"I--" You began, half-yelling over the noise, then your face twisted into something Anakin couldn't read. Annoyance? Hatred? Pity? "Fine. Let's talk," you finished. The man, who looked like if all the finance bros in the university were merged together into one terrible Pokémon Evolution, scoffed his annoyance, but you ignored him.

Anakin didn't even try to suppress his smugness.

You pushed past the guy, then past Anakin, all the way to the staircase tucked in the corner of the room. He was enchanted, brainless when he followed you. The air got warmer, stickier, and the number of couples making out along the walls increased dramatically. Anakin remembered when that would have been the two of you. That night at TKD. How he wished he could turn back time to that night and just live it in a loop.

Just like then, you were divine in front of him. Your legs climbing the stairs, the gentle sway of your hips that he had fantasized about. He couldn't help it. He'd be noticing these things forever.

You slipped into a bedroom, and it smelled a bit disgusting, but he couldn't care less because he was with you. Anakin closed the door with a decisive thump, then turned to look at you.

You had that look on your face, that one he hadn't puzzled out yet. Your perfect eyebrows were scrunched together, and he could see you swallow hard. He couldn't care less if you hated him. If you pitied him, wanted him gone. At least some small part of you would have still cared. He had prepared a whole speech--telling you how sorry he was. How much he wanted you. That he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that he wanted to make you fall for him the same way he'd fallen for you. That he wanted more than whatever the two of you had been. That he wanted to be your boyfriend. Long-term, preferably.

Anakin was ready to get on his knees if he had to.

He opened his mouth to start, but you interrupted him.

"No, I have something to say." The words came out shaky, and dread clawed in his stomach. Were you going to say you wanted him to leave your life? That you had moved on with the finance bro downstairs, who had a trust fund and probably said slurs? That you were excited to never see him again in four months, when you graduated?

Then, you sighed and said something he never would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It set in later than it should have. Much later.

All throughout finals, you were desperately trying to stop thinking about him. That horrible feeling in your stomach when his face popped into your mind. Which it did, all the time. It was a sticky, terrible pit that opened up whenever something reminded you of him. The lingering smell of him on your pillow. His hatred of orange Skittles. You'd been angry before, but this was different, worse, somehow.

But you pushed it down. Exams mattered more right now. So much more.

Sometimes, the wave of nausea hit you a little too hard, like when you thought about how badly you needed a hug, and how you didn't really want a hug from anyone but him. When it got too hard, you'd leap out of your desk and march to the corner store, just to buy a Red Bull and maybe some chips. Something crunchy, something to puncture the silence of your suddenly suffocatingly empty room.

On the walk through the biting air, you would let yourself think of him. You'd let that pain in your heart blossom, and you'd just pretend you'd said something, anything else. That either of you had made different decisions. That you'd be walking back to your room and he'd be sitting on the bed, giving you that crooked smile, ready to quiz you on fluid dynamics. It was the cold that made your eyes water, you swore.

And then you'd arrive home, and you had to get back to work. Anakin Skywalker was not an allowable topic of thought at any other times. You pulled yourself through finals like a zombie, not letting yourself think beyond the next meal or next exam.

That was not the brightest idea, it turned out, shockingly. When you left your last final, you were blank, empty. You went home and collapsed on your bed, and you finally let yourself imagine his arm wrapped around you as you drifted off.

When your alarm went off at nine PM to remind you to get to the airport, the pit was back. As you stuffed things in your suitcase, then rushed out the door, you felt like there was bile clawing up your throat.

It was a disgusting feeling. You'd been mad in your life, but this was different. It made you want to jump out of your skin just to be free of it.

Around a third of the way through the red-eye plane ride back home, everything was dark and quiet, with only the whir of the engines disturbing the cabin. You slipped out from your aisle seat, just to stretch your legs and use the bathroom, and then you passed him. Or, at least, you thought it was him. But it wasn't. The stranger sitting in 16C had Anakin's nose and curls, but his eyes were all wrong, and his hair was just a smidge too light. He didn't have those little dimples on the side of his mouth.

But just the same nose and the same curls were enough to light that painful burn in your heart. How many times had you looked at those features, traced them, even before all of this started? Why, why did your heart leap for a second, hoping that he'd followed you, like in some 90s romcom, to declare his undying, hopeless love?

That pit in your stomach you thought was bad before was swallowing you whole now. Your skin felt hot, clammy. You willed yourself to move one leg, then the other, heavy like bags of sand, just to get somewhere private before you imploded.

By the time you slid the lock closed on the bathroom door, you were bawling. Big, heaving sobs ripped from your chest, and you couldn't place the emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt--it was all mixing into a knot that kicked the breath out of you.

What had you done? What had you fucking done?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Things got a little better at the airport, when you got to hug your family. On the drive home, they occupied you with anecdotes about the neighbors--the house across the street had apparently put up a garish snowman--and questions about your semester. And it was nice to recount some high points. A couple of times, you were tempted to tell a story that involved Anakin, but you held your tongue.

When you got home, and it was around time for bed, you tossed and turned, but all you could think about was him. That feeling in your gut was unbearable, and you were debating whether you should just go retch over a toilet to get it out of your system. You only managed to fall asleep by putting on Criminal Minds, and even then it took you two episodes.

The next night, the same thing happened.

And the next. And the next.

The next time you were in bed, you made yourself confront it. Just for a second. That feeling that came up whenever you thought of him.

For years, he was just some guy who got everything he wanted. You knew the department was stacked against you from the start--being in classes where only four people weren't men was symptomatic of the department culture. But when Anakin interacted with the professors like that, got all the internships, you wondered if you could do the same thing. If it had been you networking with the professors, would you have gotten the same reaction? And you didn't know.

Anakin was frustrating. So, so frustrating for years. Because everything just came so easily to him. It was like he waltzed in every day to your freshman lab course and made breadboard circuits that were even neater than the professor's. And when he did so well on every exam, he didn't make a secret of it. He gloated about how his projects were used as examples. Initially, that rivalry was one-sided. You'd do anything to beat him. Later on, when you'd worked on more than a couple projects together, you could see it in his eyes. He knew you were a threat, good competition.

And when he was clearly closer with the professors and got accepted to an internship you didn't get, it was whatever. It annoyed you to no end and you complained about it to your friends, but it wasn't terrible. Those were minor things. Your theses were major. This was what you'd present to employers, to the world. This was what you were going to do for the rest of your lives. And he'd gotten it from somewhere.

If even this was stacked against you, why did any of it matter?

You were still furious. You felt like you wanted to punch something or scream into your pillow at how unfair the world was, how you just wanted something to be easy for once.

But the worst part of it all was that you knew that, in his place, you would do the same exact thing. Or, at least think about it a lot. You'd feel like shit about it, granted, but you might do it. That feeling of trying and failing for months to get the perfect idea that was equally attractive to employers and the thesis committee, to get something that even worked, was probably the most frustrating cycle you'd ever experienced. If someone gave you a ticket out, what would you have done?

You probably would have taken it, if things were bad enough.

And that meant Anakin wasn't a bad person. Just a desperate one.

You knew he wasn't a bad person, though. You'd seen him smile at you with such openness, such sweetness. You'd seen him coach freshmen, including your own roommate, to become good athletes. You'd seen him get you food when you were too out of it to do it on your own. You'd felt him put his jacket around you when you fell asleep in the library.

But there was always that fear that, just maybe, your first impression had been right. That he was an asshole. That, one day, the mask would fall off, and you'd realize he was just pretending. That your relationship didn't matter to him as much as it did to you. That if you told him that you wanted more than sex, he'd laugh.

And, when you heard from Barriss of all people, that maybe he was exactly what you had thought he was, a liar, it felt like he was stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife.

Looking back at it, it still felt terrible, but you couldn't move the image of Anakin helping you, keeping you company in the library. He wasn't scheming against you when he took the idea, he was just scared and desperate.

It was the department that had pitted you against each other from the start--curves, calling out the best homework solution, TAships, and thesis competitions. None of it was made by him. He was just like you, trying his best.

You also hadn't heard all the details. The idea for the hand had been his, just the idea to scale it down had been someone else's. Just like you'd asked professors to help you choose between ideas early on in the process.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like your heart was being carved out with a blunt spoon.

You impulsively opened your phone. The texts he had sent you.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

How could you not trust him? How could you have watched him cry and just left? What kind of a person were you?

Fuck, what had you done?

You were gasping for air, the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. You had ruined something perfectly good. Just because you were blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was too much. It was all too much. The stress climbed up your throat and choked you, and you writhed in the sheets to try to escape the feeling. To just go back to a time when things mattered less, when you were purely happy and never worrying about GPAs or rankings.

Fingers shaking, you opened Ahsoka's contact and smashed the tauntingly green 'Call' button.

She wouldn't answer you anyway, you reasoned. It was the middle of the night, after all.

The ringing was painfully loud in the empty room. The tone sounded one, two, three, four times, and you were about to give up when Ahsoka's tired voice mumbled your name.

"'Soka--I--Can I talk to you?" You managed to spit out the question despite the thick cottony feeling in your throat.

"Hey, woah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" The grogginess left her voice as she fretted on the other end of the line, and her protectiveness made you feel the tiniest bit better.

As you spilled your guts to her, she made comforting noises at the appropriate places, and grossed out noises when you described that you'd had sex with Anakin. Soon, your breathing stabilized, and she said exactly what you'd been thinking, too: you needed to apologize, stat. Preferably, in person.

You fell asleep on the line with her.

In the morning, everything felt better. Manageable. You just needed to collect yourself before you returned home, and then sit him down and talk to him--actually talk.

For the remainder of the break, you immersed yourself in the everyday. Your holiday traditions were familiar, calming. The constant clamor of your family to get this and that from the store kept you busy. You'd wake up late, eat some lunch, get some coding done, scroll Instagram, eat dinner, then pass out in front of the TV. And just like that, another day slipped by. And another. And another. And another. And then it was Christmas, and all you could think was that Anakin was opening presents right now, somewhere far away. You opened your texts again, trying to draft a message that seemed right--Hey or Merry Christmas both seemed slightly weird. But maybe hearing from you would mess up his day, or maybe he'd realized what you had, that you were in the wrong, and now wasn't interested in talking to you. As you were debating, the roiling guilt in your stomach grew, and, when your father laughed particularly loudly, you were relieved to turn off your phone and pay more attention to the breakfast table.

In the back of your mind, there was a subtle thrum of guilt that never really went away. It only got worse as the break came closer to ending, and you realized you hadn't really gotten anything done on your thesis in weeks. You set a countdown on your phone homescreen, just to keep you on your toes. All it did was make you feel worse.

On New Year's Eve, when you were watching the ball drop with your parents, your phone chimed.

It was Anakin. The world stopped, and your mouth went dry. happy new year. What could you even say to that?

Happy New Year. I miss you.

Happy New Year. I'm sorry for everything.

Happy New Year. Wish you were here

Happy New Year! How are you?

All of them felt wrong. But then one of your parents said your name, trying to get your attention, and you locked your phone.

That night, while having your nightly stew on your feelings, you resolved to talk to him in person after lecture. Otherwise, you were worried you'd never bring it up.

On the first day of classes, you were resolved to catch him before or after lecture. Any time would work, really. You'd have two chances that Monday, and then two more on Wednesday if you chickened out. The fact that you acknowledged you might chicken out was a bad sign, but you ignored it.

You got there ten minutes early, an act that was generally considered psychopathic in college, and you were ready to zone out while the professor said some things about the goals of the course for just long enough for class time to end before speaking to Anakin.

Would he say something to you? Would he try to sit next to you? Would he even notice you?

You kept your eyes firmly trained on the board, and tried not to look too desperate as you snuck glances. Then, finally, he arrived, and you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. You made a point not to think too hard about how he was more handsome than you remembered and not to wonder if he wore that shirt just for you. That wasn't your place. You needed to apologize, not ogle him. You expected him to sit down somewhere in the middle of the seats, somewhere distinctly Anakin, but he crossed the room entirely. He even sat one row in front of you. Did he not even want you in his periphery? Your heart sunk. Maybe he had a change of heart after you didn't respond to his New Year's Eve text. Maybe he was just done with you. Maybe maybe maybe, your mind chanted.

The second that the professor was done, you rushed out.

The same thing happened again in your afternoon class, and you walked home regretting every life choice that brought you to this moment.

The next day, when you got home from your class, you entered your living room to find Anakin on the couch. Immediately, that nausea that had been plaguing you punched you in the throat.

There he was. Looking so unbothered, so casual, like him being in your room didn't make him think back to the last time you had been here, entwined on the bed. Like it didn't make him think of how you'd ruined it. All you could hear was static.

The worst part was that you couldn't stop ogling him, even though you felt terrible about it. He must have been working out over the break, because his arms looked incredible in that shirt, and his jawline was etched even more strongly than usual. The haircut he'd gotten over break left his hair falling just over his forehead in those perfect waves. It caught in the light as usual, and when he turned to look at you all you could see was blue blue blue.

And then you realized he was looking at you--at you--and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see him swallow, hard, as he looked at you. Was it a glare? Was he angry? Was he about to storm out? Who knew?

But this was your opportunity. Class didn't work out--this was it. You had to talk to him now.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe "Hey guys, can I talk to Anakin for a second?" or "Hey, can we talk?" or "I think I like you a lot," or literally anything, but nothing came out. The static in your ears got louder until it was deafening. Your stomach roiled and, for a second, you were worried you'd throw up instead of saying anything.

"Hey," you croaked out. The awkward silence sat between you three, and you didn't see his expression change. Fuck. He didn't even say "hey" back.

You had to get out of there. Had to. Right now. You bolted into your room and closed the door behind you, then dove into your bed and screamed into your pillow.

Motherfucker.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your next attempt to apologize came at practice the next day. You hoped to catch him at the end of it, maybe pull him away and talk in some empty stairwell. You crept up to the room, but, the closer you got, the more that tidal wave of terrible feelings threatened to wash you away. Through the door to Aerobics Room 1, your eyes found him in the crowd immediately. They were practicing some kind of form (pumsae? the exact name escaped you), and Fives made some sort of comment to Anakin which sent him cackling.

He looked light, and with the afternoon sun casting its rays into the room, he almost became angelic. When he laughed, and his eyes crinkled in that way that made you soft, you lost all your nerve. He was never like this when you were in class together, or that time he was in your apartment. Whenever he saw you, he got that look on his face.

But now, he was all smiles and laughs as he playfully smacked Fives, who repeated whatever he'd said and sent a bunch more athletes into fits of laughter.

Dappled in the sunlight, his face split with an enormous smile, Anakin was so perfect in that moment. How could you ruin it by making him have a hard conversation?

At the same time, you felt the anger at yourself build up. You said all those awful things to him, and you had the nerve to delay your apology?

But you knew that, if he heard your apology and didn't forgive you, that would ruin the day for him. He was just like that. And you didn't have the heart to do that to him.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, as you took one last look tracing the contours of his jaw and lips.

As you turned to go, you didn't notice that he'd turned to see something moving in the windowed doors to the Aerobics Room.

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Ahsoka was fucking tired. There were approximately two people she cared for most on the campus, and they were both huge dummies. They'd proven that over and over. She knew something was amiss from the day the two of you fought/broke up/ended things/whatever, when you started sulking in your room alone and consuming an upsetting amount of caffeine. She started gently probing right when the worst of finals was over. She didn't want to rush anything, but a well-placed "hey going to go get some food, want anything?" might soften either of the two of you enough to let her know what happened.

She found out when you told her on a phone call. And, yes, it wasn't great. It was, perhaps, morally dubious and a little misguided, from what she could tell, but it wasn't clear to her why this was such an issue. Wasn't taking advice from others and collaborating the whole point of academic research and theses?

But she also knew you had gotten feedback from multiple professors after you'd submitted your initial proposal, trying to pick between several approaches, before one of the faculty nudged you in the direction of 3-D printing instead of plastic molding. And, sure, Anakin was a little more than nudged, but he came up with the idea for the mechanical hand in the first place. This was just a different application, right? And yes, it wasn't super duper ethical that the idea was just given to him, but what would you do in his shoes?

Ahsoka told you exactly that, and you sounded like you were choking on the other end of the phone. You told her about how horrible you felt, and that you felt like you didn't know if he even wanted to ever see you again, and she groaned. Of course he did. He was the biggest simp she knew.

So Ahsoka did what she did best: she meddled.

It started small, with mentioning the taekwondo team in front of you once the semester had started. Sometimes an anecdote would include Anakin, and she made sure to casually drop his name, just to gauge your reaction. You didn't even flinch when she said it, which seemed like a good sign. But the pulse in the hollow of your neck jumped. When you confessed that you'd failed to talk to him in class, because it just felt too awkward in public, Ahsoka nodded sagely, like she wasn't already scheming to give you a private time to chat.

Within five minutes, she had texted Anakin to invite him over to plan the competitions they would be attending that semester. Like she hadn't already discussed it with him in December, but whatever. A meeting between the captain and the vice captain wasn't out of the ordinary. And it just so happened that her room was free. Crazy, right?

She really couldn't have made it turn out this well if she tried. When you entered, and Anakin looked like he might fall off the couch, Ahsoka had to suppress a smile. You looked like you wanted to say something, like maybe you'd built up the courage, and she was about to say that, actually, she had forgotten an incredibly important errand she had to run at a cafe for 30 to 45 minutes, but then you just said "hey" and walked into your room. Ahsoka grumbled internally. What was so hard about just apologizing?

Two days into classes, Ahsoka had not-so-subtly hinted to Cody that he should host a party, just in case her other meddling didn't work. It was her backup plan, and, apparently, she needed it. So, after giving you a pep talk that this would be the perfect time to talk to Anakin because you weren't in class or a meeting, and after digging out some dress in the back of your closet for you to throw on, the two of you were off.

Once you arrived at the party, she watched you do a sweep of the room instantly. She knew what you were looking for, and rolled her eyes. He probably hadn't arrived yet, but she texted him anyway, just to check.

In the two seconds she was looking down at her phone, she watched you talk to some sophomore from the business school. He looked douchey, but he was cute enough and said something that made you laugh. Come on, Anakin, she thought, praying he'd arrive soon before she had to watch this guy flirt with you any longer.

Again, she realized she was great at meddling when Anakin showed up and beelined to Cody. She pushed her way through some people, and came to greet him, drag him to get a drink, but he'd already taken a beer from Cody, then insisted that they go dance.

At every opportunity, Ahsoka tried to hint that maybe they should go over there? Toward the other side of the room? Get some more drinks, maybe?

It took ten minutes, but Anakin finally agreed. He didn't see it, but Ahsoka was smiling like a maniac when she saw him take you in. When he started marching over, she was practically cheering. It was show time.

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As you walked to some quiet(er) room, your heart was pounding. This was more nerve-wracking than the first time you slept together, than anything you had done together before. When he just appeared in front of you, looking so intense, it took you a minute to get yourself together enough to form words. Was he mad at you? And now the moment of truth had come.

You pushed into a room which belonged to someone who had more weed than deodorant, and was covered wall-to-wall in dingy band posters. You didn't want to even look down to see how stained the carpet was.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, he was here. And you finally had the opportunity to say what you needed to say.

Before you started, you drank him in one last time, just in case. His deep eyes, the peek of collarbone through his shirt, his broad chest. A quick mental catalogue.

And then you started speaking.

"I'm sorry, Anakin." You weren't sure what gave you the courage. Maybe it was because he approached you first, so you couldn't hide behind the excuse that he didn't want to see you anymore. Maybe it was the slightly awkward conversation with that dude downstairs who seemed to have way too many takes on types of beer. Either way, you'd finally done it. You'd said it. Just apologizing to him made you feel lighter, but that was drowned out by the anxiety of hearing his response.

You were trying to read his expression, the draw of his eyebrows, the purse of his lips. This was the weirdest angry face you'd ever seen.

"Wait--huh?" Both of you were probably wearing the same expression--sheer confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be mad at you? What? You watched his eyes trying to read what you meant, and his plush lips were the tiniest bit open.

You continued anyway. It had to be said, even if he was just going to tell you to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, you didn't deserve it. Not everything was your fault, and I've been feeling so guilty over the whole break that I just--I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I chickened out every time. I wish I hadn't�� ended things. Between us. I'm--I'm so sorry." Your voice came out more confident than you felt, comfortable in the words you had been rehearsing for weeks in your mind.

Once again, the room went quiet. Anakin stood, as still as a statue, clearly trying to process. Behind the pounding of your ears, you could hear the bass line downstairs and the chatter of people, and you tried to remind yourself that if this goes badly, you'll just go back home, time would pass, and you'd be able to heal your broken heart in peace.

Then, suddenly, Anakin pulled you into a crushing hug. You couldn't breathe from the weight of his head on your shoulder, and the tight squeeze of his arms around your waist. The sandalwood of his shampoo was comforting, familiar. He smelled like home as he buried his face into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry too--I wish I could take it back, that I just never entered this goddamn competition, then you never would've been mad at me and--" His voice came out broken and shaky.

"Anakin, hey," you interrupted. Had he spent the whole break feeling like this? He should be mad at you, not just upset with himself. You could talk to him about that later, but right now you could feel his desperation to just be near you again, mainly because you felt the same way. You wrapped your arms around him until your hand found his hair. Burying your fingers in it felt so good, so natural. How could you ever have ended this?

"It's okay," you said as you rubbed his back. You could feel his breaths were ragged, and he squeezed you even tighter. "I shouldn't have been that mad at you in the first place--I just got so upset that you had some sort of upper hand, and I went crazy," you continued.

"Fuck," Anakin muttered against your skin. The shift of his lips over your collarbone reminded you of the last time he'd kissed up and down your neck. You took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get horny.

Anakin pulled away, but kept his arms wrapped around your waist. Your heart clenched when you saw the mix of anguish and relief dancing across his features. His eyes were swimming, and a tear rolled down his cheek, then another, then another, until he was crying.

"Fuck," he mumbled again as he pulled one hand away from you to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, almost as if he was embarrassed. Despite it all, you found him immeasurably cute.

"Uh, I was gonna come up here and beg you for another chance--I just couldn't watch you move on or talk to that guy downstairs, it hurts too much," he confessed. His eyes met yours and you felt that familiar jolt of joy that he brought, this time over the idea that he was jealous, possessive even, over you.

"I'm not moving on." It was a risk to say it, but you did it anyway. It was definitely true, but it came out more careful, more tentative than you wanted. Because there was a chance he didn't mean it that way, and you'd just shown your hand.

Fortunately, he had a terrible poker face. Even streaked with tears, a little bit sweaty, and standing in a room that stank like weed, Anakin's smile burst onto his face and shone like the sun.

You'd forgotten how many butterflies that smile gave you. Tentatively, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his jaw. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into your touch, like you might disappear if he didn't keep you there.

Then, someone hollered in the hallway, something about a round of shots, and Anakin's eyes snapped open.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?" You asked. "We can walk back home or--" Anakin cut you off.

"Um, if you don't hate me right now, and I don't--I could never--hate you, can I just--" His hungry eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

You didn't think too many brain cells were firing, so you just nodded. His smile widened, if that was even possible, and he pulled you into him just like he had so many times before.

As he got closer, your heart started pounding, and your palms got sweaty, like this was a first date. And, in a way, it kind of was. It was your first time kissing as more than just enemies who fucked every once in a while, but as something else, something more.

When his lips met yours, he was so heartbreakingly tender, you melted under his touch. Anakin was so warm when he held you this close, and you were half expecting him to start deepening the kiss when he pulled away so that your foreheads were touching.

"I fucking missed you so much," he whispered reverently, then immediately kissed you again, deeper this time.

His kiss was all-consuming, like a whirlpool sucking you in, until you'd forgotten everything except how he felt against you. Your kisses grew deeper, until you felt his tongue gently brush your lips, and you immediately opened them.

Everything felt new, gentle, and you relished it. One of his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, and you felt yourself get wet. You'd been pent up for weeks, and the simultaneous relief of being with him again and the way he had all but told you that he had feelings for you were making you dizzy with want for him.

Your hands grasped anything they could, his shoulders, his hair, his arms, as much of him as you could reach. Did he even know what he did to you?

He broke the kiss, just for a second, and you were about to protest when he pulled the two of you back until he was sitting on the twin bed shoved into the corner of the room. You stood between his legs, his hands trailing down the backs of your thighs.

You swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself until you were straddling him. Anakin watched you, his eyes dark and mischievous, and let out a small "fuck" when you were finally in his lap. He was a sucker for this position, you knew. This was exactly how you'd gotten together, at that stupid night of truth and dare. The memory filled your heart with warmth.

As you settled onto his legs, you felt a familiar hardness under you, and the butterflies returned. You loved doing this to him, making him care about nothing other than the moment you were sharing. You not-so-subtly shifted your hips as you kissed him again, and you were rewarded with a low moan.

His hands kept teasing you, running up and down the sides of your thighs as he captured your lower lip between his teeth gently. You groaned loudly into his mouth, and he used that moment to slide a hand up your inner thigh, until he had passed the hem of your dress.

Using all the willpower you had left, you pulled away. You were both panting, and he was a vision when you looked at him again, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and wet from your kiss.

"Anakin, are you sure this is okay?" You desperately wanted him to say yes, because it felt like you might implode if you didn't have him inside you tonight, but if he was this emotional, you had to say something. Give him an out.

Instead, Anakin looked at you like a man starved. His pupils were wide, and, even through the tears, he looked ravenously hungry for you. Like you made his world spin.

"Yes--God, I've thought of you every day, all the time. I don't want to wait any more than I have to, unless you don't want to, or if you think you'd regret it--" He was rambling. It was adorable.

"I've never regretted you," you said, cutting him off. "But are you sure you're sure?" You stared into his eyes, looking for any trace of worry, or hesitation. All you found was desire, and something softer. Affection, love, maybe.

He rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against you.

"Can't you feel how much I want you?" Usually, a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but with the mischief in his eyes and the feeling of him hard underneath you, it only served to make you wetter.

You immediately grabbed his shirt to pull his lips to yours again, rocking your hips over and over until he matched your rhythm. The hand on your inner thigh crept upward, until it reached your clothed pussy.

You'd forgotten how well he knew your body, like he'd been made to touch you. His fingers found the perfect angle to stroke your clit, and you became a mess, your kisses sloppy.

After he'd teased you for a long enough time to make you a wreck on top of him, Anakin pulled your underwear aside. He dipped just one finger inside, and he groaned at how soaked you were.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He asked, as if the answer would be anything but please. You nodded as hard as you could, and he started unzipping his jeans as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on you. You weren't sure he'd ever look away.

Meanwhile, you stood up off of him just enough to pull your soaked panties down your legs and kick them off. As he pulled his cock out, you vowed to give him head the next time you were together, because goddamn, you'd forgotten how nice of a sight he was like this.

He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it on, still looking at you and only fumbling a couple of times in his trance.

"C'mere," he grabbed your waist and pulled until you were straddling him again, right above his cock. He grabbed your hips with one hand, and lined himself up with the other, then slowly started guiding you down onto him.

As he split you open, you forgot how to think, or talk, or do anything other than feel him inside of you. Every ridge, every inch. You let your head fall back as a keening moan erupted from your throat. He kissed everywhere he could, up and down your throat as he grunted against your skin.

You realized you couldn't even draw a steady breath, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of being with him again.

His breath fanned your collarbone as he finally rested his forehead there and groaned your name. It was music on his lips.

The hand on your hip started guiding you to move, and you gently rocked your hips. God, had it ever felt this good before?

The feeling washed over you like honey, drenching your limbs and making your fingers tingle. Almost on their own, your hips picked up the pace, spreading the feeling everywhere in your body.

As you rode him faster, he pressed his face into your neck, letting the wetness from his crying earlier rub onto your skin. He was groaning at almost every thrust, incoherent mixtures of yes's and your name falling off his lips with every breath.

You were holding on for dear life, fingers fisted in his hair, when he grabbed under your thighs and stood up, slipping his cock out of you while you were still in his arms.

Anakin turned around and laid you down on your back as he busied himself throwing off his shirt and pants until he was bare in front of you. Within two more seconds, he was inside you again, this time thrusting into you from above.

He was holding himself up on his elbows, so his face was right above yours, eyes locked onto yours. You could see every reaction, every groan fall from his lips.

Usually, he was rough and made his hips smack yours, but, today, his thrusts were slow and languid, like he was trying to make it last as long as possible. You could live in this moment for the rest of your life. A particularly strong twitch of his cock made you whimper.

"Fuck, baby. You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly. You locked your legs around him, holding him close, so that this wouldn't end. So that you could always stay here.

His breath hitched, and you knew he was getting close. You loved that you knew things like that about him, that only you knew that about him right now.

"Shit, fuck. Your pussy is so fucking good, like you were made for me," he groaned into your ear, speeding up until he was going faster than you thought he could. The intensity made you grasp at his back desperately, your nails catching on his skin. He hissed loudly. Anakin's cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was seconds away from his release. And you were even closer, that delicious tension building with every thrust.

His hand came between you to rub small circles on your clit, and then you were gone. Your mind went blank, and everything became just sensation. Warmth, all around you. Him, everywhere.

Somewhere far away, while you were still twitching around him, he groaned, low and loud and raw, as he came while sheathed deep in your pussy. Anakin laid his head in the crook of your neck while he recovered. His breath hitched as he took a shaky exhale, then pulled his cock out of you.

You didn't need to say any words, you both knew what you wanted. He pulled you into his arms like you were the most precious thing on the planet, then let his eyes slip closed. All the tension that had been building in your body was released, gone into the wind. All that was left was him, and the rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it.

"I missed you, too," you ventured after a few seconds of comfortable silence. He hummed, letting the hand trailing through your hair cup your jaw and pull you up for another kiss.

This one was tender, not about fucking, not about anything but his feelings for you. It was addicting, and, when it stopped, you almost pulled him in for another round. But it was midnight, and every muscle in your body was screaming.

Anakin said something about cleaning up and getting out of here, and you nodded, but you found you were having trouble with coherent thoughts at the moment. Anakin gently kissed your forehead and then rolled out of bed.

"'Kay, I'm gonna go look around for a bathroom, be back in a sec!" He called out, putting his clothes back on quickly, but not quickly enough that you didn't have time to check him out.

Even when he left the room, you were still smiling. You grabbed your phone, discarded somewhere near the bed, and sat back down. You wanted to text Ahsoka to thank her for bringing you to this party, for introducing you to Anakin, hell, for being born, when your homescreen reminded you of something.

54 Days, 18 hours, 27 seconds until Thesis Due Date

That pit opened in your stomach. You thought you had gotten rid of it, but there it was again. Everything went tight in your body, and suddenly all you could think was how could you have let yourself get this far behind? You had to get to work.

Something bumped your leg. It was Anakin's hand. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Everything okay?" Anakin asked, with that gentle smile that hadn't really left him since you'd made up.

You looked at him, the man who you kind-of-sort-of-definitely had feelings for, and you shot him a half-assed smile as you locked your phone.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight as you put it away. But, for the rest of the night, even when he walked you home and kissed you in front of the building--in public--it echoed in the back of your mind.

54 days.

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Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2])

THE LITTLE FLOWER POPPIN. THE M'LADY

seems like agatha is having An Emotion

but look! look! rio is once again being super special extra on purpose!! because if she just strolled in agatha would be overwhelmed and run away again. so what does rio do??? she corners her with a grand zombie entrance!!! the more over the top she acts, the more agatha is in her element and comfortable interacting. and in this case, angry is a better start than sad. all part of rio's Brilliant 66-Steps-Plan To Win Her Wife Back™ (or was it 666?)

her face omg

oooh are you mad??? are you big mad at little ol' me???????

agatha is like nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope

imagine being aubrey plaza and being born so effortlessly cool. she's cool even when she's awkward dear lord

jen and alice: kinda stunned by both her hotness and her weirdness

lilia: VADE RETRO SATAN (lilia's spider senses are already tingling)

will I ever be over the fact that Death is just one particularly powerful green witch?? that she's a gentle if odd girl who grows plants and flowers and mushrooms and is called the River of Life??? that she is the embodiment of life in all her forms? that decay and regrowth are all part of the same natural cycle? that the hardest and most inexplicable thing a living being can go through is also the most reassuringly organic and normal???

have I already said "i love you patti lupone" today?

we're off to see the wizarrrrd. her cute peter pan outfit!

what do we think, billy? does she want to talk about it, or does she have the emotional maturity of a baby ostrich?

same girls, same

whoa there ladies, calm down. I'm already taken

lilia is also having an Emotion. it must be pretty weird to realize that your mortal foe is this hot

alice going NOPE when she sees her mom's house. the leaves are red alice, honey. it's your turn.

(does the back of rio's jacket look like a ribcage?)

it's going to be fine baby. your friends are all here. you can do this. deep breaths.

fire moon! fire moon! fire moon! oh this is my favorite trial

*grabs the mike* WOULD

from right to left: would, would, would, would, would, oh hi joe

rio: BITCH I AM?!?!?!?!?!?!? (everyone say thank you costume department)

the Road isn't subtle, BILLY.

sure, there wasn't enough sexual tension already, let's add side boobs, shall we? and rio being like hey agatha, hey agatha, hey. guess what. I'm here again agatha. you're not gonna get rid of me this time agatha.

I keep thinking that every reflection agatha comes across is a "te veo". and even when rio isn't there she is watching from mirrors and from puddles.

OH MY GAWD AGATHA how can you expect me to cope when you look around to make sure nobody is watching and then you lean in so so so sclose and then you say no with such a deep soulful voice and so much intimacy and such quiet anger and not one lil hint of clownery. I AM ABOUT TO GO FERAL

agatha around rio is like, mind screaming in anguish and body screaming in horny. lethal combination

lilia who's been trying and failing for centuries and centuries to come to terms with the violence human beings inflict on whoever is different

if there is one thing a broadway pro is trained to do is making people cry while wearing increasingly stupid wigs

JEN SEEING MASKS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HIDES BEHIND THE MONSTER THAT BOUND HER

fletwood mac?!?!!?!?!?!?!? in this economy?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I cannot handle much more of this, my emotions are raw and fragile and tender as it is already!!!!!!!!

oh, alice.

well this episode is making me feel like agatha: sad and horny. weird vibe but okay.

[fictional-reylin]

Class 1-A knows that their grumpy classmate hides something. Everything came to mind: drugs, alcohol, a crime scene even. But it’s neither of those, in fact, it’s not even something, it’s someone.

Longest one-shot I’ve ever written, I’m so proud of myself to have the energy to sit down and actually write this.

You are welcome to send requests/asks. Just make sure to read my rules.

Everyone in class 1-A knew, scratch that, everyone who set foot in UA knew that Bakugō Katsuki wasn’t someone who you could expect to be friendly. He never tried to hide that fact, and even so, when he started sneaking out early in the day after some time when they all moved to the dorms, it got more than a little suspicious. What was so important for him to do that he needed to get up at five and directly go out ?

At first, his classmates thought that he just decided to work out outside of his usual training. He wasn’t just screaming at everyone that he’ll be N1 just because. But the guys quickly noticed that he never showered after returning, never even touched his cologne, so that option quickly was cast away. And when some tried to ask him about, like Izuku, Kirishima or Mina, he dismissed them, saying that it wasn’t their business or that they were creeps for paying such close attention to him.

So here they were, sitting in the common room of their shared space, theorizing about the blond's whereabouts.

“Maybe he’s smoking early in the morning”

“Katchan ? No way, he hates smoking. And anything related to that…”

“Seriously ?” Mina asked surprised, “He looks like a smoker.”

“Maybe he’s getting blackmailed !”

“Kirishima… If there was blackmail involved, he’s the one blackmaili-”

Before Denki could finish, he felt a hard slap against the back of his head, making him fall from the couch with a loud thud. Everyone turned to look at a very angry Katsuki glaring at all of them.

“Why are you extras talking behind my back like some kind of creeps ?!”

None of them answered, instead deciding to go because they were “busy”. Smart move from all of them. And thankfully the blond didn’t expect an explanation from any of them, so with a huff, he went upstairs to his room. Letting his bag fall on the floor, he sat at his desk and began doing his homework like the nerd that he was. That is until a notification popped up on his phone and he read the message, a small smile creeping on his face.

[Name]

Hi !

I have an exam early in the morning, so how about you come in the evening ?

[Katsuki]

Sounds good

So there he was, getting ready to go out to see you at the time you both agreed to. As soon as Katsuki walked up to the exit door, everyone who was near turned to look at him with questioning stares and raised eyebrows in suspicion.

“Where are you going, Bakubro ?”

“None of your business”

With a slam of the door, he left the dorm. After that, everyone else was rapidly called to have a meeting like previously. Now the situation was even more weird, he never went out in the evenings, only in the early mornings.

“Maybe he’s holding someone hostage !” Shouted Denki

“Don’t be dumb, that’s impossible”

“Well, he sure is acting like he does…”

Everyone quieted down, thinking over the possibility. Their classmate was a bit aggressive, that was for sure, but kidnapping someone ? Surly not…

No one moved for a while, sitting in the quiet before rushing to Mr. Aizawa for some answers. After all, no one could walk out of the dorm for no reason, they moved here for safety after all. As Shōta was quietly sipping his coffee, he was startled by the teenage bunch that ran into his room, screaming and shouting questions that he didn’t even understand. With a furious red glare, he quickly shut them up.

“Bunch of savages. Iida, what is this all about ?”

With a bit of hesitation, the class president spoke:

“Well… Everyone is curious where Bakugō is heading every day. We aren’t allowed for no reason, after all.”

Shōta stared at them annoyed, turning his back to them. “It’s really none of your business, kids. But he is meeting with someone.”

“His hostage victim…” Someone whispered.

“What was that ?”

“Nothing teacher !”

And with that, the man was left alone again, confused in the major interest that everyone had for their blond classmate and his whereabouts.

With the new information, the bunch of teenagers, some of them paranoid, decided that the best course of action in this situation would be to send Tōru… to stalk Katsuki and figure out if he was really holding someone hostage. So, the next time he went out, she followed him discreetly, which wasn’t really all that difficult for her. The rest of the students waited patiently until they were all together again, with the exception of Katsuki of course, to discuss what she saw.

Everyone expected a serious discussion, but that was definitely not the case with the way she squealed in excitement and repeated “You’re not gonna believe this !” over and over again.

“Well not if you keep not telling us, come on spill it”

She took a breath and spoke, the huge grin could practically be heard on her face as she spoke the next few words. “Bakugō has a girlfriend”

A bunch “Huh ?” and “What ?!” erupted amongst the group. They were expecting everything from their classmate, literally anything, but not a girlfriend.

But everything quieted down once they saw their blond classmate marching towards the classroom, looking at him expectedly like he promised them some sort of gift. He scanned the classroom, annoyed at everyone’s stares.

“What is it, you extras ?”

Everybody had a silent agreement to let Katsuki be, it wasn’t really their business after all, and he didn’t own them any explanation, and they were sure he wouldn’t appreciate them being nosy. Everyone got the memo, except Denki.

“When were you going to introduce us to your sweetheart ?”

Aizawa came just in time because otherwise, Denki would be dead, probably. Everything steeled down, but Katsuki was still furious. He didn’t like them meddling in his personal business, especially when he wasn’t the only one involved in it. But oh well, at this point he was used to living with a bunch of dumbasses that believed in the magic of friendship.

At the end of class, everyone apologized and guessed that in hindsight, they really shouldn’t have jumped to such drastic conclusions. And Eijirō even apologized at the end of school.

“Sorry Bakubro, you were acting so mysterious, I really thought something was not okay”

The blond only let out a grumble in response, before turning his head opposite to the dorms. He looked back at his friend, still looking apologetic, before asking, “You wanna meet her ?”

“What ?”

“My girlfriend. Do you want to meet her ?”

He got a hell yeah in response as they both went towards your high school. It was weird for Katsuki, only his parents and yours knew, so this really was something different, like a step ahead into your relationship. It made him nervous.

They walked for about half an hour before they stopped near a high school, a bunch of students already heading home, or staying for a quick chat with their friends before parting ways. Bakugō scanned the sea of students, before his eyes landed on you. He called out to you, making you turn your head and smiling, before quickly walking up to him.

“Katsuki ! And… Kirishima ?”

Kirishima smiled and reached out to shake your hand. The fact that you knew his name, heck even recognized him, was making him all happy. He didn’t expect Katsuki to talk about his classmates, even less show photos of them.

“I’m [Name]. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah well, you’re meeting someone who thought I was a criminal” Bakugō said, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

Your eyes widened slightly, looking between your boyfriend and the redhead beside him, wearing a sheepish smile on his face. As the three of you walked towards your home, Katsuki explained the situation to you, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Sure, your boyfriend was intimidating, but holding someone hostage ? He wouldn’t even have the patience to do that.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard !”

“Hey ! It’s not our fault ! Who is so secretive about having a partner anyway ?”

“Someone with brains and who likes their privacy” Bakugo retorted, before stopping dead in his tracks and looking down at you.

“Well, we’re gonna leave now, it’s getting late. Text me when you get home, okay ?”

With a hum, you kissed his cheek, waving him and his friend goodbye as you continued your walk. Bakugō turned to look at his friend, only to find him smiling at him proudly.

“What ?”

“You are truly a manly boyfriend man”

The pair returned to the dorm, the rest of the class already waiting for their arrival, as Kirishima texted them about their whereabouts earlier, expecting some sort of info about you and your relationship with him. He of course glared at all of them, told Kirishima to not spill a word and went to his room.

They then all turned to look at Kirishima, who was already in the centre of the living room, ready to spill the beans like Bakugō’s threat meant nothing to him. Everyone was asking questions about you, your personality, your looks, how you acted with Bakugō and vice versa.

“It doesn’t sound like Bakugō at all. Are you sure you went with him and not some clone ?”

“I’m telling you guys; he was so chill with her. He was about to smile a couple of times before remembering that I was there too.”

Even if the attitude of their classmate sounded foreign to them, they were all glad that he could be sweet at least with someone. Even if they didn’t get to see it, they hoped that with your influence, they wouldn’t need to sit through his constant shouting and threats of aggression.

Just as they were about to all head to their respective rooms, Kirishima got a notification from his phone. Reading through it, he smiled and held up his phone for everyone to see.

“She invited all of us for a hangout”

You on the other hand, you were giggling to yourself, proud that you could convince your boyfriend to give Eijirō’s number. You wanted to make an impression on all of his classmates and get a bit of revenge for getting into his business. And what a better way than to invite them all to a picnic, without informing it will take place in a haunted house ?

[Katsuki]

Did they agree ?

[Name]

Yeah. He said they all did.

I’m gonna have fun with this.

[Katsuki]

¥ 1000 if two of them cries

[Name]

Deal

Thank you so much for reading ! If you want to join in my daydream, consider checking out my navigation.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Gorgeous ✧˚ · .

JJ Maybank x Reader

“Ocean blue eyes, lookin’ in mine. I feel like I might sink and drown and die” ࿐࿔

Inspired by Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Warnings: MDNI. Contains sexual content, cursing, mentions of alcohol, toxic (ex)boyfriend, fluff in the mix, ideation of cheating, underlying manipulative JJ

Summary: You’ve always been attracted to JJ Maybank. But the fact that you can’t have him kills you more than he knows.

You were sitting on your phone texting as usual. Lazing around, arm draped around the arm of the couch as you chatted to your friends and scrolled through social media listlessly. Liking posts and rolling your eyes at girls bragging about their all-around-boring lives.

Sure, there were more productive things to be doing. You could be doing chores, washing the dishes, or hanging out outside. But really, who cared? It was a still day in summer, a day where most Kooks and Pogues alike would be enjoying the weather by surfing and swimming. All you felt like doing, however, was pretty much nothing.

Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen as usual. The last time you’d seen him was that morning, after he waved goodbye without so much as a “See you, babe,” or a kiss on the cheek. When he’d be back, he hadn’t mentioned. You knew, though, that it wouldn’t be until late that night.

He still acted as though he cared about you. In the evenings he’d tell you he loved you, and that he needed you. But you always found yourself questioning those words even as he fucked you in the bedroom.

You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed having sex with him.

You were planning on going to the boneyard party tonight. Hang out with your friends, maybe grab a few drinks. What you weren’t anticipating, though, was seeing one person with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. That person was JJ Maybank.

And yes, he was heading over to you now, a plastic cup in his hand. He held the cup out to you, saying “Hey there. Care for a drink?”

You were distracted by those deep blue eyes. “I, uh…” 

“Here, take it. It’s on the house,” he placed the cup in your hand, winked, then walked away. You saw him rejoin his group of Pogues around the campfire. 

“What’s between you two?” Your friend asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said, rolling your eyes. But you knew that wasn’t quite true.

It wasn’t like you and JJ were strangers. He always said hi to you when he was around, and you would occasionally engage in informal conversation.

There was something about him though. Something that made you turn your head every time you saw him. You knew it was wrong. You have a boyfriend, you scolded yourself sharply.

But you couldn’t help it. He was… handsome. No, that wasn’t it. He was gorgeous. Indescribably so. That’s why you always found the picture of those mesmerizing ocean blue eyes trapped in your head, never leaving you alone.

There was one thought that bothered you. You didn’t know if he had a girlfriend or not. You’d seen him around Kiara Carrera, the Kook-turned-Pogue girl with long brown hair and olive skin. Had she already taken him? But what if she hadn’t? For some reason, the idea of him being entirely free for the taking left a sick feeling in your stomach.

Because no matter if you wanted to be his or not, you couldn’t. You already had a boyfriend, a couple years older than you. Whichever way you put it, you had been dating for nearly two years. Even considering cheating on him was out of the question.

It made you angry. How JJ Maybank was allowed to be this gorgeous and get away with it. You had to stop thinking about him. Period.

That’s what you tried to convince yourself as your boyfriend pounded into you on the bed later that night. 

“Good girl,” he muttered in your ear. “Fuck.” As you looked up at him, you saw that his eyes were emotionless as usual. You felt a sinking feeling that wasn’t unfamiliar. Should you ever believe that he loved you?

You were at a party again. Except this time, it was at a Kook’s house, the property so big it reeked of money from a mile away.

The main room was so big you were sure it was equivalent to the ballroom of a castle. The Pogues were all here— why the hell were the Pogues invited?— but it seemed the entirety of the Outer Banks was here. Girls and boys were all dancing to the music underneath the disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

You had worn a black sparkly dress tonight, along with a pair of heels. After a while of catching up with others, you stood to the side of the dance floor, pouring yourself a glass of champagne.

“That looks good. Wanna grab me one?”

You turned around, and there was JJ again, good-looking as ever. 

You smirked at him. “You should get one yourself. Be careful though, it’s a little strong.”

He grinned back. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.” He moved to the refreshment table. As he was filling up a glass, his eyes met yours. You felt your cheeks burning. Then he looked away, and it was over.

“So, uh— where’s your boyfriend?” JJ asked casually.

“Don’t know. Probably in the club with the guys.” You felt like shriveling underneath his gaze. How could someone be this attractive?

He sounded skeptical. “Not at the party?”

You chuckled a bit. “No, he never goes to these.”

“Alright then. Well, I’ll see you around.” And he disappeared.

Somehow you found yourself pulled into the midst of the dancing, twirled around, from one person to the next. Then the music changed to a slow song. A romantic one, with the lights switched to dim and deep red.

And just for a split second, you felt someone’s hand brush against yours. Without turning around, you instinctively knew it was JJ’s.

Why? Why would he do that? He knew you had a boyfriend. Had it been an accident? But something about the deliberate gentleness of the gesture made you know it hadn’t been.

He made you so angry. How dare he tempt you like this? He would pay for this. You just didn’t know how. You downed too many more champagnes, then left, dazedly, for home. Alone.

You didn’t sleep at night anymore. The image of JJ’s face refused to go no matter how hard you tried. Your boyfriend still spent time with you, but it was less and less, and you had no idea where he went half the time.

So you were left restless by yourself, slowly falling apart as you cracked at the mere thought that you couldn’t have what you truly wanted. You hated JJ Maybank. Hated him. Without him realizing one bit, he was making you fall apart.

You were sitting in the hammock in your yard, on your phone again. You were too tired to pay attention to the endless pages of meaningless posts. 

You heard the gate to the backyard open, and you looked up. It was one of your friends.

“Hey, what’s up?” you called to her.

She walked over and looked uncertainly at you, nervously fiddling with her hands. “Hey, I came to tell you about something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” you narrowed your eyes in concern.

She hesitated. Then she spoke. “I found out from someone else that your boyfriend has been cheating on you. With a girl from the club.”

“What?” you exclaimed. The outrage must have shown on your face, because your friend took a step back.

“I’m sorry.” She gazed at you sympathetically.

You were speechless. It couldn’t be true. Not knowing how else to console you, your friend left quickly.

Your boyfriend had cheated on you. After all this time, being loyal to him and trying your damndest to keep a good relationship with him, he had gone and found himself another girl. You waited in dread for him to return. 

When he opened the front door, you immediately started yelling at him.

“What the fuck?! How could you cheat on me like this? I thought you loved me!! And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

He dropped the blank expression and instead stared at you coldly. “So you found out.”

Your eyes started filling with tears. “How could you?”

“I just didn’t think we were a good match. Oh, don’t act so surprised. You were good while it lasted. But I found someone else now. Don’t take it personally.”

“Don’t take it personally?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. “What kind of a shitty boyfriend are you? Who’s this new girl, anyway? Is she so much better for you?”

“Yeah. She is. We’re over.” And with that, he walked out of the door. 

That’s how you ended up crying in the bathroom of the local cafe the next morning. It was Sunshine Bakery, a cheap place where countless OBX residents went to grab their daily coffees.

You sobbed on the tile floor, hair falling over your face in a tangled mess.

You were too lost in your own misery to notice the door handle turn and someone step in.

“Hey, I thought I heard— whoa, are you okay?”

Your head snapped up. And of course, it was fucking JJ Maybank, looking surprised to see you soiled on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you sniffled softly, failing to hide your ruined state.

“I heard someone crying in here and came to check. What happened?” His blue eyes held a genuine concern.

“My… boyfriend just broke up with me.” You looked downwards. Your brain couldn’t decide if you should be willing to accept his comfort or not.

His eyes widened. “He did?”

You could only nod. 

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone who would want to do that.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “What?”

He grinned at you. “I just mean you’re so beautiful, you deserve better.” He closed the door behind him and sat down next to you. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” The tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Of course. Who wouldn’t?” His voice lowered, and he gently wiped away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You thought you’d never get this close to him, yet here he was, touching you.

“Want me to make you feel better?” His voice was really low now, and there was something unreadable in his expression.

The word “yes” had only just left your lips before he gently tugged your shirt and bra down and pulled off your shorts. Then he unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking as it fell to the floor.

You thought your heart was beating out of your chest. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you steadily. When you moved your head in a silent yes, he pressed his lips to yours tenderly, slowly and with precision.

You relished his feel, closing your eyes as you allowed your arms to wrap around his neck. His hard cock brushed against your stomach, already wanting you.

As he guided himself inside little by little, it was a feeling you had never felt before. Nothing like what it had been with your ex, and the thought brought guilt to your mind. But it was soon forgotten. JJ was here now, and only JJ. Your walls tightening around him was your only thought. How could you hate him? He was handsome as hell, after all.

He rolled his hips into you back and forth, taking care that you were comfortable. Every touch sent waves of electricity through you. Your little moans of pleasure spurred something inside JJ; your sweet sounds were a music to his ears he had never dreamed of before.

“Shit, you’re so good for me.” His hands twisted in your hair while your leg came up to grab onto his waist. Your breathing was heavy. In this moment in time, it was only the two of you, everything else forgotten. Any past pains were gone. This was how it was meant to be.

When you came, your juices dripping out of you, JJ lapped it all up, his tongue swirling around your pussy.

“You taste so good, do you know that?”

When he stood back up, he pulled you in for another kiss, spreading goodness through your veins.

He pulled away. “Was that okay, princess? You’re sure it wasn’t too soon, after…” he glanced at you anxiously.

“No,” you told him immediately. “JJ, I… thank you.”

He softened. “Don’t worry about it. Anytime.”

You began to blush. “Maybe we could meet up sometime soon?”

“Sure, baby. How about tomorrow at twelve? At my place?”

“That sounds great. Really.”

He smiled charmingly. “See you there, then.”

You watched him go. You finally had what you had yearned for. It was possible to be a daydream, but now he was yours. Gorgeous JJ Maybank.

Like, share, and follow for more <3

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

NSFW ALPHABET- Pope Heyward

Wearing: +18,smut, English is not my first language

a = aftercare (how they feel after sex):

would definitely be extremely attentive and kind after sex. Constantly ask if it hurts you and check your body. He’s afraid of hurting you because he has a bigger dick than the average.

He is ready to take care of you right after having sex. She cleans you by kissing you tenderly and telling you how good you felt; she always asks if you have cramps of penetration and if you do so she makes you a nice warm compress to put on. He keeps you safe and cuddly, giving you sweet cheeks on your forehead to make you feel safe.

b=favorite body part (favorite part of your body and his):

He loves every part of your body, he loves your smile that can calm him when he is nervous.

He loves your ass very much, is obsessed. He can’t stop slapping and squeezing him... loves to kiss and bite him and the sight of your ass all red from his slaps makes him crazy...

His favorite part of his body is his beautiful muscular physique and he loves when you look at his muscles without shame, he knows well that this thing makes you wet; and above all he is very proud of what he carries between his legs (his friends always tease him saying he has a third leg because it’s bigger)

He loves it when you are impressed every time you see him naked (no matter how many times you have seen him like this) and when he fights to get his dick... he gets crazy.

c = cum (anything to do with sperm):

he sure loves cumming inside you. for him there is nothing better than finishing inside you and seeing his sperm drip out; he would never admit it out loud, but the idea of ​​cumming inside you excited him even more

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, one of their dirty secrets):

It gets even harder when you suck his dick

I= intimacy (what is it like right now? the romantic aspect):

It has two faces, so it will depend a lot on the occasion and his mood. There will be days when it will be harder, but there will also be days when it will be tender and say sweet words and sweet kisses that make your heart beat faster.

k = node (one or more of its nodes):

• Praise Kink: That man loves to receive compliments but also loves to give them; he just loves saying nice things for you and letting you know how good you are doing. He also likes it when you compliment him, when you let him know how good it makes you feel or how great he feels or even how beautiful he is, he drives him crazy.

•Blowjob Kink: he loves it when you suck his cock so well and try to take it all even if he can’t. He loves it when you play with his balls and you stoke around his dick

L-Location (favorite places to do the activity):

At first it seemed shy but actually it’s not: your first time was on the beach.

He loves to fuck you anywhere and he loves to tease you in public

m= motivation (what excites them, keeps them going):

Just seeing you makes him hard

n = no (something he wouldn't do):

certainly nothing that can hurt you; also, he doesn't like sharing you with anyone (no matter who it is) you are his and just thinking about another man touching you would make him very jealous and angry

o-oral (preference in giving or receiving skills, etc.):

Pope is a huge pussy eater and would definitely make you fall apart with those gorgeous lips but he also likes to get a good blowjob, he can't get over the image of your lips wrapped around his cock as you struggle to take it all and sometimes you choke because it's too long and thick for your mouth but you love taking it and he loves it really fuck your mouth.

r =risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

The idea of ​​someone catching you excites him especially because he loves to mark his territory on you to make others understand even more that you are his and no one can have you.

s= stamina (how many rounds can they last? how long do they last?):

he could continue all day... he is like a sex machine.

u = unfair (how much he likes to tease):

he is a tease, he would definitely tease you by blushing around him or being extremely wet and needy for him.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

he really loves to be vocal: he will definitely moan and grunt while murmuring dirty things to you and praising how you take his cock

x = x-ray (let's see what happens under those clothes):

his cock is very big and long. And trust me that cock will take away your ability to walk and make you feel very good.

d=desire (how high is their sexual desire?):

he is literally never satisfied. He always wants more from you. He’d be offended if you gave him a blow job while he was studying or when you were on the boat.

He like fuck you with a sensual music

[ellaspore]

High School Frenemy is taking over my brain and I cannot stop thinking about it 

I think of Saint in the past, alcoholic father, absent mother, unmoored and unrestrained, his anger festering inside himself, violence the only way to let his feelings out

And the way that Shin is his anchor, his everything, his motivation purpose and will to live, the thing most precious to him, the only person to really care about him and take care of him

And the way in the past, no matter the importance Shin had for him, how he was unable to articulate himself out loud, to share his love, his care, the way he needed to use excuses to do things for Shin

The way Saint showed his love through actions and his presence

The way his fear of Shin leaving him transformed into anger, into hurting Shine and became the biggest mistake of his life

I think of Shin in the past, absent father, a mother who left him to care for his little sister. The only person always there for him cheering his games, sharing his dream, being Saint.

How Saint was there to always take care of him in his darkest moments, to keep him from being hurt, to make him laugh

How Shin was always saying how important Saint was for him, how he was always there to save Saint from himself

And then it all went to shit and they were both left in shambles

Saint with his guilt and inability to even face Shin because of what he did 

Shin hurt and alone without his best friend there to help him

How their relationship was changed by the trauma and the absence, how it became this powerful thing they couldn’t let go of, this hurt, this yearning, this unhealed festering wound, kept deep within themselves 

The way Saint couldn’t stay away from Shin and he tried to see him but was sent away by his mother, and the way he had to just accept it because he did not deserve Shin even if it was what he wanted and needed the most and how depressed it made him and how he kept trying to find indirect ways to see Shin, because even a glance would have been better than nothing

How Saint spent three years in a half-dead state, atoning for what he did to the person who mattered the most, never resorting to violence again, being beaten and taking it because it was what he deserved

How Shin named his gang Tsunami because he hadn’t left even then, how all his friendships never reached the same level as the one with Saint, how there was always a wall between himself and the rest of the world, how nobody could take care of him but he took care of everyone

How he resorted to violence because he couldn’t take the loneliness and anger anymore

How in a way he took Saint’s worst traits and made them a part of himself

And then I think of when they meet again, under the rain, under the same umbrella, how it felt like a miracle for Saint, his dreams coming true, Shin in his reach again, how he had another chance and he would take everything if it meant being with Shin again

And how Shin felt betrayed and was angry because he couldn't trust Shin, he couldn’t believe he wouldn’t run away 

And so Saint had to prove it all, prove his resistance his willingness to bear it all and in the end Shin could do nothing but capitulate because he missed Saint more than he missed soccer, more than his lost future because Saint gives him meaning just as much as Shin gives meaning to Saint

How the tables turned and now it’s Saint declaring his love for the world to see because he bottled his feelings for 3 years and he can’t contain them anymore and if he doesn’t get another chance at least he was able to say it all.

And how after they cleared the air they feel alive, like different people, able to smile freely, using every excuse to spend time together, to touch each other, to test and see that this is real, they’re together again

And I’m in love with how they feel like platonic soulmates but there is still something more, a romantic undertone just waiting to happen when they’re on steadier ground sure of who they are, where they stand, because they are too happy to find each other again to risk it all so soon

They’re a potential just waiting for the right time to happen