#from the bodily features such as: flat chest

[gonnaeatyourgirlfriend]

i'm gonna be so honest rn but 'androgyny' lately has really been looking more masculine than anything else.

[readngandweepng]

talking mostly nsfw of ftm rdr2 boys ft. charles sean (high and low honor) arthur kieran micah and javier with a top reader

MDNI amab reader with no pronouns mentioned. contains afab language and talk of dysphoria, binding, and periods in the first half plus breasts sex etc btw this is long

short first section mostly just sfw about if they feel dysphoria, if they bind, and what they're like on their periods etc.

i really can’t see charles getting much dysphoria at all, if any. part of him wouldn’t really care much how people see him as long as the gang/his friends see him as a man. the way outsiders perceive him isn’t something he thinks of much. even if the gang didn’t see him as a man for whatever reason it’s not something he’ll be that upset about. he’s confident in himself to never doubt his identity, despite any feminine features he bears. however he’s not afraid to knock someone out if they’re seriously taunting him and being a jackass. charles is also a great person to go to if you’re feeling dysphoric. his words are quality over quantity, and even someone with the worst dysphoria can feel a little better after listening to him.

i feel like charles would have a pretty big chest, so if he binds before going out into town he’s really doing it for the sake of holding up his male appearance to avoid any complications. at camp he’d wear baggier clothing just as a general thing but i don’t see him feeling the need to bind as much. he’s really not that bothered by his breasts; they’re just another part of his body to him and that’s about it. he can experience back pain and bodily stress, so it’s possible that binding can help relieve that pain, which in that case he definitely will bind. 

charles gets cramps but he’s pretty good at powering through them. he may hiss in pain every now and then but usually they don’t really get in his way much. though if they get particularly bad charles is a master at finding methods to soothe the pain. his period doesn’t change his mood much, aside from making him a little hungrier than usual. he’ll have extra snacks in his pockets prepared just for his cycle so he can eat while he sits around the fire or does chores. his sex drive also slopes, going from almost non-existent at the start of his period and then gradually getting hornier as it reaches its end. you’ll know his period’s almost over when he starts getting touchy-feely or when you can feel his gaze on you more often. 

sean’s flat chested in my mind, probably the flattest of everyone. maybe used to experience chest dysphoria as a teen but as he got older he started to see his breasts as pecs and now isn’t afraid to waltz around with his shirt off. (probably would have done so anyway, he’s ballsy like that) his hair doesn’t make him dysphoric but he’ll still make sure it’s at its reasonable length. for fun, sean would probably like dolling up, stealing a dress from karen and then prancing around it at camp just to fuck with people and maybe even get a guy to hit on him just to turn around and laugh in his face like an asshole lmao.

unlike charles, sean can NOT handle cramps at all. he’ll be curled up in a ball until they go away, whining and huffing when people tell him to get up and work. and when he is up and about all he does is complain about it hurting. even when he’s not cramping he’ll still be complaining until someone like karen or grimshaw tells him to pipe it down. if someone offers him some herbs or tonic he’ll all of a sudden try to pretend like he doesn’t need it but then will end up downing a bottle of whiskey later just to try and relieve the pain. he’ll also want to have sex with you to cope with his cramps. 

on his period he’s less chatty and a lot more grumpy. snaps a lot when he’s not in the mood to talk and even drinks less at times (when it’s over he’s back to the bottle though). his sex drive surprisingly plummets and he can even be a bit touch-averted. this can happen in spurts, where he’ll be sitting in your lap one minute and then all of a sudden won’t want to touch you again for the rest of the day. his breasts also become very tender even to the point where wearing a shirt that’s just a little bit too tight can be painful or uncomfortable. he’ll let you kiss him on the forehead or give him a side hug but for the most part he’s not as bubbly as he usually is. and when his period’s over he’ll try to wrack pity from you for not giving him enough love and attention.

out of everyone here i think (high honor) arthur would experience the worst dysphoria. he’d try really hard to pretend like the dysphoria doesn’t bother him, but he will be noticeably very happy and feel just a little bit more confident in himself when receiving affirmations from his close friends. if he’s out in town, he greets everyone just the same. he gets a bit of a pep in his step when he hears people referring to him as “mister” as they greet him back. arthur’s heart skips a beat if he overhears someone talking to a woman, fearing that someone’s talking to him. but when he turns around and sees a conversation happening elsewhere his anxiety slowly settles. really he tries to avoid going to town when he’s feeling dysphoric for these reasons, but also because he can’t help but over-analyze himself in other people’s eyes in fear of them seeing nothing but a woman, regardless of his muscles and rugged appearance. in a long-lasting relationship he won’t be as scared and lots of progress can be done however the dysphoria never does go away.

his breasts aren’t too large, but he’d still bind and would need to be reminded to change the bindings or take them off. arthur doesn’t like wearing too many layers so he sees binding as a bit of a hassle, and some days he’s too stubborn to bother with it so he just puts on a thicker jacket and calls it a day. he might need someone to remind him to bind when he goes into town, just for his sake. he can get into a headspace where he feels like he doesn’t need to bind for whatever reason, so having someone there to clear his head is something he’s eternally grateful for. 

when he’s on his period arthur doesn’t really like to admit he’s cramping. if someone asks why he’s groaning in pain he just waves it off and blames it on “being old”. charles and the girls will see through it and only then will he bashfully shrug in admission. he will hesitantly take any remedies they give him and may or may not actually use them. his period definitely physically weakens him a lot more than it may the others. all of a sudden lifting a hay bale feels like trying to carry a whole bison over his shoulder, and even riding his horse feels like a huge chore. he doesn’t get grumpy but he definitely gets depressed. will become more distant and will spend time away from people until his period’s over. his sex drive can randomly spike though. you might see him wander into the woods just to turn around and see him there with rosy cheeks as he asks you if you’d like to accompany him to his tent.

(low honor) arthur feels dysphoria but nowhere near as bad as his high honor counterpart. his dysphoria comes less from his outward appearance and more from within. he speaks to townspeople with trepidation because deep down he’s on edge in fear of hearing even a little bit of hesitation in their greeting. he becomes cold when dysphoric, even with you he’ll try to drive affirming words from you, pushing you to call him mister or to tell him how handsome he looks. he wants validation even when he doesn’t realize it.

lh arthur, even in the midst of dysphoria could really care less about his tits. there’s still some underlying insecurity but overall he could whip them out whenever he wanted to and wouldn’t be bothered. he almost gets off on it to be honest. he’ll use his own breasts to his advantage if he really needs to. both arthur’s in the right mindset can also see their breasts as pecs the same way sean can. lh arthur doesn’t feel the need to bind, but it’s not something he’s never done before. if someone like dutch insists upon it for whatever reason, then fine. but in his own accord it’s not something he cares much about. 

on his period he’s honestly the exact same, except maybe a little more cocky. something about his cycle has him just a tiny bit more confident and in over his head. he’ll be more antagonistic but also flirty. he’s also a huge tease. he’ll sit on your lap and grind into you just to pull away and leave camp for like two days. surprisingly, he won’t have sex on his period, not once. before and after? hell yes. but during? no. he doesn’t know why and neither do you. 

kieran feels some dysphoria, but i think his main problem is just insecurity and anxiety. he’d shrivel up very easy at any rude comments so receiving compliments and assurance goes a very long way. he doesn’t care about his hair length, but he does much prefer having facial hair. feeling/seeing a clean-shaven face on himself can make him feel a bit dysphoric, but again he’s really just anxious about how people perceive him. he will cry if he gets misgendered in public which is why he always has some facial and other visible body hair. over time if he’s around people who support him he will feel less insecure and will slowly garner more confidence until eventually he barely ever feels dysphoria.

i think he’d have pretty big breasts, second to charles. he definitely binds and layers his clothes when he’s anywhere but with his friends or you. if he’s been with people long enough that he doesn’t feel dysphoria anymore he’ll still bind but won’t layer his clothes as much. with you there are some insecurities about not being manly enough for you, but of course that is something that eventually deteriorates over time as your relationship progresses. he most likely will never be able to walk around camp shirtless like sean, but he can loiter in your tent without a top on as long as it’s just you and him, albeit with a very red face. 

his cramps vary. either he has cycles where he’s completely cramp-free or he randomly is struck with pain so bad he needs to sit and curl up in a ball for an hour. he gets a lot of headaches that he needs to sit down for and his sex drive fluctuates a ton; he’ll be super horny for one entire day and then the next he feels absolutely nothing. also gets distant more than usual, sticking to the horses and not making much conversation, and if he does get in conversation he’s somewhat curt and almost impatient, but right when his period is over he’ll be chatting it up with everyone and acting like he usually does.

micah 100% experiences dysphoria that he pushes down like crazy, he’s the second worst to arthur. would never admit to feeling dysphoric, but you can see it in his actions, like wearing a jacket over his shirt even when the weather is warm and hot. on the outside he’s high and mighty but inside he’s going through a literal hurricane. he really doesn’t want to admit that he feels like shit and most likely never will unless you’ve been together for a while. strangely he’d feel dysphoric if his hair was longer past his shoulders, and if he notices it’s even an inch longer than he wants it to be he’ll cut it even if he ends up doing a shit job. he simultaneously feels inner distress about not having a penis but at the same time gets really cocky about having a pussy.

i can’t really decide whether micah either refuses to bind entirely just out of spite or if he’d be too scared to go out without at least some thing around his breasts. he’s not flat by any means but they’re not too big either. he’ll bind or layer up to try and conceal his breasts but if his shirt happened to get undone when at camp and someone makes a comment, a part of him wants to say fuck it and pretend like he’s not bothered and another part of him wants to tear down an entire tent and wrap it around himself. micah’s very capricious, he can be showing off his tits one minute and doubling up on shirts with a jacket on the next. micah’s another one who, overtime and with progress will feel less insecure. 

when he’s on his period you may or may not will be able to tell; he’s snappy, grumpy and mean, but also very depressed. might make a comment to someone passing by but really doesn’t have the energy to continue his taunting further even if he gets a reaction. loses motivation very quickly and gets frustrated with himself often over little things. if he’s particularly sad and angry he’ll make especially mean comments to charles or arthur out of his own projection and insecurity. if he had a cycle where he was mostly depressed and quiet, when it’s over he’ll be twice as bad as he usually is to make up for the lost time lmao. but with you he becomes oddly affectionate, not really possessive but not docile either. he’ll stick to you half the time until he gets in a mood and needs to distant himself. at the end of the day he’ll always find himself back in your tent, snuggling up to you as you sleep.

i don’t see javier experiencing much dysphoria at all unless someone deliberately misgenders him. he���s confident with himself and his identity and isn’t bothered by accidental misgendering but if someone is purposely referring to him as ‘miss’ or calling him a lady to mock him or be an asshole then javier’s confidence dwindles just a bit and he can feel dysphoric, mostly just afterwards when the heat dies down. he’s kind of able to save himself by acknowledging how pretty he is regardless if he were a man or woman, especially when both are visibly eager to chat him up at a bar. your gaze is really all he needs, the mix of hunger and love is enough to overpower any dysphoria he feels.

his chest is about the same size as micah’s. sometimes he binds and sometimes he doesn’t. he honestly might forget most of the time because he’s not too bothered with doing it. he doesn’t care who sees his tits, and if he’s feeling particularly confident he’ll dress up real nice and pop open a button or two to even accentuate them, especially if it gets your eyes and hands on him. similar to charles, javier won’t hesitate to throw a punch at anyone who wants to antagonize him for it, and if it’s someone at camp attempting to get him riled up he’s petty enough to find every excuse in the book to show off his breasts in some way. 

on his period he’s not much in the mood to talk, mainly just wanting to get chores done and get the day over with. has cramps that vary in pain but usually he’s able to power through them well enough with some mental strength and tonics. also gets physically brought down by them, so instead of doing heavy lifting chores he’ll just go fishing instead to contribute. his sex drive spikes but for the most part he loses it. unlike some of the others, it takes longer for javier to bounce back after his period’s over, but when he does he really longs for the closeness he missed prior and he will put aside an entire day or two just to spend it with you.

second section all nsfw here of how your first first time together would be like—talking about them and their body, foreplay, ideal positions, their volume, how they take dick, and what happens after

you may or may not have to be the one to initiate it. if you’re dating charles he already trusts you a lot, so having sex for the first time isn’t something he’s particularly that shy about unless you were very flirty and gave him a lot of attention. he’s not typically self-conscious, but he can get bashful if you stare too much, especially at his breasts. not a lot of pleasure derives from them but he doesn’t mind having them played with if it makes you happy. if he’s already sensitive or you’re in the middle of sex, sucking on his nipples can make him moan a bit. if you’re really into his breasts, charles will purposefully incorporate them into sex just for you. he’ll ride you either with his shirt off or undone, if he’s on his back and his hands are free he’ll squeeze and caress them, etc.. for the most part as long as you’re happy then he’s happy too. charles does get a little kick out of you staring at him because he does like feeling wanted. if you’re looking at him like a love-sick fool he’s going to end up being the more dominant one, sitting in your lap to kiss your lips and neck, being sure to leave at least one mark because he’s a bit cheeky like that. he’ll love it if you run your fingers through his hair, not to pull it or yank on it but it does make him shiver a little bit, especially when you graze his spine or the back of his neck. he’d also like it if you left a mark on him too, so it almost feels like you’ve claimed each other in a way. 

compared to some of the other boys, charles takes a bit longer to get ready. he doesn’t get as wet as fast, and if you’re spontaneously having sex (compared to having planned a night together) then he’ll need more foreplay or at least some pomade to use as lubricant. this stays true no matter how long you’ve been together. charles is often a giver, but if you decide that you want him to lay back and just enjoy it then he will be happy to do so as long as you give him a chance to return any favors. he likes being fingered, and fingering him while you eat him out is the quickest way to get him soaking and ready for you. he’ll want to go down on you too, just because he likes (and is good at) doing it. he might accidentally make you cum though so it can be best to do that first. and charles recovers fast, if you make him cum once or twice it doesn’t sway him, he’ll still be able to take you just fine.

he takes it slow and steady. if you’re inexperienced then he’ll ride you and do the work. he tries not to let his desire accidentally soil your first time together, making sure that he rocks his hips at a consistent leisurely pace. if you’re experienced or you just want to be on top of him then charles will let you take the reins, he’s not picky at all how you’re positioned in general. he’ll keep his hands either on your shoulders or settled on your back. with charles there isn’t a lot of switching places mid-sex, however if he’s riding you and he cums first, you can gently flip him onto his back. he’ll buck his hips up into yours until you’re close before sweetly reminding you to pull out because it’s easy to forget when you’re inside him. even though charles isn’t picky about your positions, he does like to be physically close or pressed against you, favoring to feel your skin against his. there’s a lot of touching and squeezing and kissing, mostly from him. he won’t take it to heart if you can’t focus on anything but his pussy to be honest. 

doesn’t matter if you’re at a hotel or at camp, charles is pretty quiet. if you’re in missionary and in control of the pace, he’s a little louder, at least moaning loud enough for only you to hear if you thrust into him just right. when he gets near orgasm is when his volume picks up. he’ll go quiet for a second before letting out a shaky moan as he cums. if you’re loud, he might prefer riding you so that he can easily control your volume and/or shush you with his hand. it won’t embarrass him if someone were to overhear, he mostly favors the quietness for the sake of others especially for people back at camp. charles can also be a little louder depending on how many times he’s already orgasmed. each orgasm takes longer and longer to build up, so with the added overstimulation it can make him moan as long as you’re fast and deep with your thrusts.

charles is great at taking dick, honestly takes it the easiest out of everyone here despite him needing more preparation. doesn’t matter how big or thick you are, you’ll slide in nice and easy. he might need a second to adjust but he’s ready to go the minute you bottom out. charles’ pussy is a bit more creamy than it is actually slick, but he can take you at any speed just fine. his hips are wide and he’ll like it if you grab onto them as you fuck into him. he’s good at keeping his legs wide open and spread too so you won’t have to worry about accidentally cumming inside of him. his pussy is also very good at gripping you so you might need to pull out a little earlier than you’d think. charles needs clitoral stimulation to cum, so it works anyway. pull out and finish him with your tongue and fingers then cum on his stomach. he’s not picky where your cum goes, and if it’s on him then that just means you both can have a dip in the lake later. 

charles doesn’t need a lot of time to recuperate after he cums. he’s immediately relaxed and definitely very pleased. he’s not all that sensitive, so if you haven’t cum yet he’ll gladly let you keep fucking him to reach your peak. he won’t hesitate to help you in other ways, whether it’s jerking you off or using his mouth, he’ll do whatever it takes (within reason) to make you cum because he wants sex to be satisfying for the both of you. you’re both making love, and even though it doesn’t have to be ‘romantic’ he still wants it to be fun and sweet. and if you for whatever reason can’t cum, he doesn’t take any offense at all, and he’ll even really love the challenge. again, charles has a lot of energy. if you want to go for a second round? he’s up for it. maybe even a third, if you can handle him. he’s also totally up for sex while you’re cleaning up and bathing.

sean doesn’t care how long you’ve been together, he wants you to fuck him. if you’re not already dating, it’ll be a breeze for him. however if you’ve been together for a while, surprisingly sean might be just a little bit shy. this would be real for him; you’d be making love, really, not just fucking. you’d have to get him to slow down, stop him from tearing his shirt off and getting your pants undone before you’ve undressed everything else. feel him up over his clothes, he’ll like feeling you press your palms against his nipples. kiss him on his lips, his face, his neck chest hands whatever. his face will light up and get hot, and once you’ve undone the buttons on his shirt to reveal his chest he’ll be squirming telling you to get on with it already. because it’s sean we’re talking about he’ll want to jump the gun, so just take it slow and ignore his squabbling. the slower you take it the better it is for him, he just doesn’t want to admit it, but it is a very satisfying result once you actually jump into things. 

sean’s a greedy boy, he’ll gladly lay back and have you do all the work. he’ll wrap his legs around your head as you eat him out and he’ll beg for you to slip a finger or two (or three) in alongside your tongue. he gets wet very fast over almost everything you do, so you won’t have to worry too much about preparing him. tell him to get on his knees and he’ll do it in a heartbeat; sean gets a little bit in over his head so he’ll suck you off but you’ll have to grab his hands so he doesn’t touch himself. most likely he’ll cum once or twice (probably by accident) before you actually have sex. but just give him a minute and he’ll be ready to go in no time. he’s the opposite of charles, once he gets an orgasm in him the others cum in like clockwork. he likes foreplay but he likes sex better. he does secretly like having you be in control of his orgasms though, and he’ll be a lot wetter (and noisier) if you hold him back from cumming before you’re in him. 

he’s not gonna care what position you put him in. automatically he’s on his back with his legs open, but if you want to flip him onto his side or his back then he’s completely on board with that too. being able to see your face gets him going. if you want him to ride you he might whine a little about it but the minute he’s sitting on your dick he shuts up real fast. he’s sporadic and all over the place, so if you’re into that then you’ll love having him in your lap, though he’ll try to rush things and he’ll 100% forget to get off your lap before you cum but thankfully he’s light and easy to push off lmao. if you take him in missionary you’ll have to be careful because sean’s a leg locker, it’s the only position with him where you’ll actually struggle to pull out. he genuinely does it by accident because his head just gets so hazy and even if he hasn’t cum yet he’s going to be very fucked out. he just wants more and more of you, so naturally he keeps you locked in place. you genuinely might accidentally get him pregnant, so it’d probably be best to have him on his stomach a few minutes before you finish. 

yeahhh, sean’s a little noisy. for some reason he just can’t contain himself. he moans with every thrust and whines with every drag, and even when you’ve stopped he’ll just be talking. the only way to make him be quiet aside from stuffing something in his mouth is to fuck him so fast that his voice gets caught in his throat. when he cums he’ll let out a long and loud moan but at least for the most part he’s quiet. it’s better to rent out a room with sean, at camp he already gets enough flack from everyone. not that sean wouldn’t love to rub it in people’s faces, but for everyone’s sake it’s just a better option. this is also why it’s a good thing to put him on his stomach so that the bedding muffles him. it’s not perfect but at least it’s something. overtime you might be able to train him to be a little less noisy. 

sean’s not the worst at taking dick. he tenses up a little too much sometimes, and with his overzealous personality he often bites off more than he can chew. he’s very tight, but he gets soaked rather quickly. he takes dick the best on his stomach or in your lap. he’s messy, so he’ll just be rutting his hips into yours inconsistently. preferably you’re the one to take control, either bouncing him in your lap or pulling him back to meet your hips. he’s sloppy on his back but if you’re on a comfortable hotel bed he likes it when you press him down flat against it, keeping his arms and legs down or even just one leg thrown around your hips and one pressed down. sean can cum with or without clitoral stimulation but during sex he gets forgetful so you’ll have to be the one to rub his clit. clitoral stimulation does also drain his energy a lot more, so he’ll recuperate less quicker and become much more sensitive. 

afterwards sean is a total wreck. he simultaneously is bouncing off the walls but is also ready to pass out. he likes to act dramatic, like you’ve wrecked him so hard that he couldn’t possibly do any chores for the next week.. (he wants you to offer to do them for him.) he likes being kissed after, it makes him feel all giddy and loved. he’s very ticklish, so honestly tickling him a little after sex really isn’t that bad of a way to get him tired since sean doesn’t know when to stop, he might end up trying to rile you up for another round or two. if you don’t take his bait, he’ll curl up in your arms and he’ll be totally conked out for the rest of the day/night. just be sure not to kiss his neck too much or else he’ll really start bugging you to go again. and he’s a heavy sleeper, so once he’s passed out you can clean him up a little and he’ll be none the wiser.

oh arthur. you’ll need to initiate. (high honor) arthur gets so embarrassed just having you kiss him, wanting to make love to him is a huge step. he’s not against it and he knows you’ll treat him right, but his own insecurities seep through that you’ll have to snuff out. he’ll be the shyest you’ve ever seen him, and depending on how you ease him into it he may or may not keep his shirt on. kiss him all over and give special attention to his neck. he gets red and bruises easily but it riles him up and gets him shivering at every touch. gently touch him over his clothes and slowly trail your hand under his shirt to squeeze his waist. give him lots of verbal praise, arthur will gain his confidence soon. once he does, he’ll guide your hand where he wants you to touch him. if he takes his shirt off, kiss his chest. his nipples are sensitive, so sucking on them gently will get him wet embarrassingly fast. he has performance anxiety, so you’ll have to take a domineering role until his worries settle (they never truly go away but they can be pushed aside). he is very sensitive altogether, emotionally and physically. his heart is constantly racing, both out of good and bad anxiety. once you get into a rhythm, he’s less scared, and if you can get his brain to turn off then he’ll be laying back and soaking in all the love and attention you give him. 

arthur’s not too sure what to do with himself, so you’ll need to take the reins. trail kisses from his lips to his stomach, and then to his heat. before taking off his jeans, grind yourself against him. he’ll look up at you with a sickeningly sweet expression until you slowly undress him. then you can drag your thumb across his folds before circling his clit. he’ll buck up, but he’ll let you carefully hold him down. kiss him, and when he feels wet enough, slide a finger into his heat. arthur will be blushing like crazy, probably even call you dirty for doing this, but make sure that you tell him how handsome he is so that he doesn’t get too in his head. he’ll enjoy any way you touch him, but most of all arthur loves to hear you tell him how handsome and strong he looks. whisper in his ear how well he takes your fingers and he’ll twitch and groan. his cunt tightens around you like a vice, mention it and he might just cum on the spot. foreplay will be a big part of sex for him. feeling how hard you are through your jeans just from kissing and licking him surprisingly gets him going. if you go too slow he might make a joke to hurry you up, but really his heart is swelling at your care and attention.

for your first time together arthur’s gonna be somewhat self-conscious, naturally. he’ll want to be on his back where he can move around as he pleases but still have you doing the work. in the future this changes but for now he wants you to be in control. arthur’s good at staying still, very obedient. you most likely won’t be switching places, unless arthur cums first. if arthur cums before you do he gains a newfound confidence and insists on riding you to bring you to orgasm. this is how arthur’s anxiety quells, when he knows that what he’ll do will be good and pleasurable. when his touch makes your cock twitch inside him and every kiss makes your hips jolt into his he soon starts to understand the power he has. it’s a bit dangerous honestly, but arthur uses it well. arthur wants you two to be physically close, mostly so that he can hide his face in your neck when he gets too shy, but also being held pressed against you because you crave to feel and have more of him is a reminder that he’s loved and that you truly do want him.

arthur tries very hard to be quiet, mostly just letting out low groans or shaky breaths and huffs. He sometimes puts his hand over his mouth to muffle himself if he’s moaning however if you’re not at camp he’ll reluctantly keep his hands over his head to let you hear him if you ask. he’ll be red in the face the entire time but at least you can hear the little moans he lets out when your cock drags along his walls. though arthur isn’t that loud, he does get very wet and slick; unless you’re having slow drawn out sex, things can get noisy very quickly. hearing his own pussy can make him shy, however it does bring him to orgasm faster. he finds it embarrassing, but if you love it he just gets so red and he can’t help but tighten around you if you tell him just how much you love it. if you’re vocal, whispering in his ear or groaning at how he feels it has him reeling. he wants to shush you, but he can’t help that it really does him going. arthur also can have kind of a dirty mouth by complete accident. like he’ll be so into it he might let it slip that he’s been thinking about this for ages and his face just gets so hot that you can literally feel it when he hides it in your shoulder. 

arthur struggles at first taking your dick. he tenses up so you’ll have to soothe him, caressing his thighs and hips. he’s tight, but once you’ve bottomed out his pussy has your dick in a chokehold. he loves resting his heels on the small of your back and pulling you into him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders so you can tease him by all of a sudden stopping and he’ll desperately keep fucking up into you to keep taking your dick. after some time of course he stops tensing up, and in no time sex is smooth sailing. he’s the second best at taking dick overall. and he does know how to ride, his hips aren’t just for show. it’s shocking how worried he was about his performance when he literally can make you lightheaded just from the way he bucks his hips. like before, he doesn’t realize the kind of ability he holds until later. but once he gets the hang of it you’re really going to be in trouble.

arthur is most likely going to be pretty tuckered out. all the anxiety building up and then being overwhelmed by so much love and pleasure, it tires him out real fast so there won’t be a spontaneous second round after your first time with arthur. he might be a little blissed out so you’ll have to help clean him up or wrap a blanket around him. he’ll let out a big sigh before rolling over and letting you wrap your arms around him. hold him close because truthfully he’ll be a little scared of you leaving. kiss him and don’t forget to tell him how good he did, arthur loves it. he’ll try to shoo you away if you get too lovey-dovey but he loves and appreciates it so much. internally he doesn’t always believe the praise you throw at him, but still his heart picks up speed and he may even cry a little bit, just don’t mention it. 

(low honor) arthur’s all confidence. if he doesn’t get to bed you within the first week of meeting you then success! you’ve tamed him, somewhat. he’s very seductive and knows exactly what to do with his body and how to twist his words. he’ll try to tease you by stripping slowly and grinding into you until you get impatient. you might have to wrangle him a bit just to get him to stop teasing but it’s entirely in his nature. he brings your hands to touch him, making you grab his tits or connecting your hips together. when he kisses you he’ll bite your lip before having you say out loud that you want to fuck him. he likes getting you frazzled, so if you’re unlucky he might end up pulling himself away entirely to get you riled up until you chase after him. he also will definitely mark you up, making sure at least one is visible for everyone to see. he’ll keep his favorite ones in places where only he can see and access them.

foreplay with lh arthur is slow. either he’s teasing your dick, dragging his tongue up and down it and suckling on the tip or you’re eating him out as he tells you how to touch yourself through your clothes. he’ll make you edge yourself as you finish him off with your tongue, promising that he’ll make it up to you. lh arthur likes spreading himself open with his fingers, inserting three right away, not to stretch himself out but just to show you how much he can take. he won’t want to get prepped too much because he likes the burn of your cock splitting him open. however he’ll shove your dick down his throat and make you cum once or twice in record time so once you fuck him it’s almost painful. if you’re really too sensitive, surprisingly he will give you a break and not overstimulate you, even though he really wants to. instead he’ll let you overstimulate him, although with lh arthur it’s not exactly painful. 

he’ll let you have some control before taking over. he likes riding you, first letting you lay him down and slowly fuck him until he sits up and starts kissing you. the way he kisses makes you feel hypnotized, and once you stop fucking him out of forgetfulness is when he’ll push you onto your back and ride you. he also likes sitting on something, a crate or bedside cabinet maybe so that he can pull you close into him with his legs and keep you trapped there. he’ll just tease you if you start worrying about pulling out. he’s also a leg locker, except he does it on purpose, so he wants a position where he can keep you in place easily. if you can’t afford the risk then he’ll let you pull out as long as you promise someday you’ll cum in him like he really wants. 

naturally he’s not actually that loud except for groans and huffs and dirty talking, but he sometimes likes to raise his volume deliberately so that someone overhears. lh arthur isn’t shy, he’ll take any excuse to kill two birds with one stone by teasing you and also letting people know he’s getting fucked by you. if you try to shush him he’ll laugh saying it’s your fault for fucking him so well but you both know he’s full of shit. if you’re in a hotel he doesn’t feel the need to raise his volume unless the law was near, the risk of getting caught turns him on like crazy. the best option would be to have sex camping out in the woods where he doesn’t feel the need to show you off and he can (reluctantly) be kind of normal for once, although he’ll still give you condescending praise just to get you riled. also know that if you can really fuck him just right he’ll let out a completely real and sweet moan that is reserved only for you. he tries to ignore how it makes you twitch inside of him even more so than when he plays it up.

he takes dick like an absolute champ. truthfully, out of everyone lh arthur is the most experienced due to his fearlessness and thrill-seeking personality. i can see him honest to god pretending that he’s a virgin at first just to see the look on your face when you momentarily believe him. again, lh arthur isn’t shy. he’s not as tight or wet, but he knows how to grip his cunt around you and how to work his hips. he’ll make you lightheaded the second you’re bottomed out. he loves making you feel so good that you’d want to stay inside him forever even when it hurts. he’ll want you to cum in him because he loves being filled with your spend and telling people about it. and he’s got a lot of energy, he doesn’t get as sensitive; you’ll end up clocking out waaay before he’s even close to being tired. he’ll feign desperation, pleading you to give him just one more. he won’t push you if you say no, but if you fall for it and humor him it most likely won’t just be “one more”. he has a high sex drive, and his loyalty to you also means you’re the one who has to help satiate him.

afterwards, depending on the events prior he either will be tired enough to sleep/give himself a break or he won’t be anywhere near done. you’ll have to have a lot of stamina to keep up with lh arthur, and even more mental strength just to handle what he dishes out. he’s a little restless, so if you’re tuckered out and ready to hit the hay he might end up leaving you for the time being to go hunting or robbing folk. if you can really manage to strike his heart, he’ll lay down with you and at least stay with you until you fall asleep. he’ll have a hand on you the whole time, and his staring may come off as a bit weird at first but internally he’s going through a lot of different thoughts and feelings. you may or may not hear him whispering into your skin as you drift off to sleep. you’d have to be real special to tame this arthur morgan. 

kieran’s going to want it sweet and romantic. having sex with him will always be intimate and full of love, especially for your first time. he’s completely head over heels and at your mercy. take it slow, but not too slow or else he gets squirmy and (at least at first) he’ll be a little too shy to tell you to pick up the speed. kieran likes having your hands on him, rubbing circles into his hips, holding his hands or squeezing his breasts. he wants to hide away and be shy, but at the same time he wants to be brave and give you himself completely, so undress him with care. he’ll get embarrassed about it but praising him and telling him how pretty he looks makes him preen in delight. he’s very sensitive, shivering when your breath lightly grazes his skin. blow on his nipples and they’ll perk up real quick. he likes having his chest squeezed and fondled, even if he can’t bear to look at you when you do it. his face gets red and warm, and even with everything his favorite thing is feeling you kiss him. 

foreplay is huge for kieran, especially for your first time making love. start with kissing him and holding him in your arms until he feels comfortable enough to move things forward himself. kiss his neck and ask him how he’s feeling, and if he’s feeling confident then take off your shirt and help take off his. kieran loves feeling your skin against his and it makes his heart flutter when you pull him flush against you. when you get into it he’ll like sitting down with his back against your chest as you pull his slacks off before having him spread his legs. he’ll squirm as you gently open him up with your fingers. they’ll glide between his folds with ease due to how wet he is. his legs will try to close automatically, but with the combination of kisses being placed on his neck and your fingers stretching him he gets so flustered he can’t think straight enough to be self-conscious anymore. he also likes dry-humping as foreplay, it makes him feel less insecure and it feels good to have your hardened dick against his heat. it gets him desperate, so you may actually hear him beg for you in your ear. 

kieran likes having his hands above his head, even though it makes him feel extremely vulnerable. he trusts you, though, and truthfully he enjoys how exposed he is. when he sees you gazing down at him with so much love and affection it makes him want to cry, which he does. hold his hands in yours as you fuck him, keeping him close. he’ll wrap his legs and arms around you in seek of warmth and comfort. he wants to be in a position where you can easily kiss his lips. kieran wants to feel loved and needs to be reassured. kiss his tears away and remind him of how much he means to you. then fuck him till he can barely move so you can pamper him and give him even more attention. and before he cums, lift one of his legs up and he’ll tighten around you so hard it’ll make you dizzy. he also loves feeling your hands gripping his waist or pressed against his stomach as you take him. 

kieran’s somewhat loud, somewhat quiet. he doesn’t realize he’s loud but he is. he’s more talkative, rambling about how good you feel. he’s actually got a pretty dirty mouth, but only far during sex when he can’t completely think straight because afterwards he’s totally embarrassed about it. if he’s not talking then he’s whining and moaning with your name slipping out occasionally. kieran feels comfortable with you, but having sex in a room rented out or somewhere far from camp will calm him much easier. it also means he can be as loud as he wants and doesn’t have to hold back without someone getting on his case about it. kieran would really enjoy a partner who’s talkative, someone who can whisper in his ear and talk dirty to him. it gets him soaking, which also makes actually fucking him loud too. he’ll get embarrassed hearing his own pussy squelching around your cock but it still drives him crazy. keep his legs down spread open and it makes him moan up a storm.

kieran takes dick well. at first he can be a little tense, but it’s mostly just nerves. he wants to perform well for you and wants to make you feel just as good as you make him feel. once the nerves have dissipated and he’s completely calm and in the moment his cunt suddenly grips you with fervor. he’s both tight and also not at the same time, but your dick glides into him so smoothly. his pussy practically sucks you in and his legs locking around your waist makes it difficult to resist fucking him deep. kieran’s another one you have to be careful with, once he’s in the headspace he can’t think straight for himself. he’ll want you to cum in him, and if you’re not quick enough to react to him keeping you in place deep inside him then you’re gonna have a pregnant kieran on your hands very quickly. 

afterwards kieran may or may not be knocked out. he’s a sweet crybaby, so after he might tear up again. he loves you so much, and he’ll tell you that a million times until he’s too sleepy to get any words out. kieran will get sad if you get up and leave to wash up, grabbing onto your wrist or an article of clothing you’re wearing so that you’ll stay with him and hold him. he wants to be wrapped up in your arms, feeling your skin against his. if you’ve got blankets, he wants to be boxed in your warmth. right after sex kieran doesn’t care about the mess, he just wants to snuggle up with you and sleep. he’ll be too overwhelmed for another round, but the next morning he’s going to want a bath and he’ll be happy to let you help bathe him. after too, it’ll be all he thinks about for days, so most likely the next time you have sex it’ll be him shyly requesting it.

micah’s another one who bites off more than he can chew. he’ll act all confident saying he’s not scared of nothin’ until the situation actually dawns on him and all of a sudden he’s trying to hide his face behind his hair or hat. he’s self-conscious and even when you’ve been together for a while he’ll keep his shirt on. your first time together is most likely not full sex, but instead just getting him off to help him adjust to an intimate setting. when you do have penetrative sex he’s shaking. you need to be slow with micah because this isn’t something he’s used to, but once you’re further into it and you’ve convinced him to just lay down and turn off his brain then he’s better about it and manages to relax and just take the pleasure you’re giving him. may or may not even cry too, but because he’s never felt truly loved before not because he’s in pain. he’s scared sex will make him feel like a woman, but with enough confirmation from you he loosens up and for the most part the fear and thoughts subside. of course in the future he’s less anxious, but for a new setting it’s absolutely terrifying to him. he won’t be very vocal, so you’ll kind of have to observe him and figure out what he’s okay with, where squeezing him is uncomfortable and where it feels good. he flushes at kisses really easily, and giving lots of those will make him huffy. he wants to push you away so badly but inevitably he loves it. 

he’ll want to skip the foreplay first, half out of embarrassment and half out of thinking foreplay isn’t ‘manly’ enough to him. however once you convince him to let you do your thing and you’ve got your mouth on him he’s like putty. being eaten out is a luxury he surprisingly loves to indulge in. sucking on his clit has him almost wailing, he might actually need to put a pillow over his face to muffle and ground himself. once you have your fingers in him he’ll be convulsing around them and he won’t even notice that he’s grinding back onto them. he can get fussy, telling you to hurry up and ‘get it over with’ but his mouth will shut the second you spread his legs any wider. micah likes getting his pussy slapped, and even if you feel it’s a little too rough for a first time, he’ll genuinely fold beneath you at the feeling of your hand or cock slapping against his clit. he may or may not suck your dick if he’s feeling confident enough to, most likely he’ll give you a hand job if you feel it’ll settle his nerves. he’s intimidated of course but with time he gets his own rhythm going and ends up being pretty amazing at it. 

at first he’ll probably want to be on his stomach where he can’t see your face and vice versa. but if he was the one to initiate, he’ll try to ride you as a spur of the moment thing until he’s actually hovering over your dick and realizes he doesn’t know what to do and he turns bashful. his face gets red very easily so he’d instinctively want to hide it. he’ll groan everytime you pull him into a kiss, and his eyes get a little glossy when he hears you whisper into his neck as you nip and suck on it. micah shivers every time your hands move his hair out of the way, and feeling you grip it when you fuck him from the back makes his heart swell and his cunt throb. being on his stomach also means he can muffle his moans, but if anyone overhears him anyway at least he can say he’s having better sex then they are. if you take him on his back, expect him to keep his head down the whole time. he won’t say it but he’ll love it if you move down closer to him where he can put his face in your shoulder and also wrap himself around you. his head will end up falling back when he’s close but at that point he can’t think straight enough to care. 

micah isn’t that loud no matter where you’re having sex. he’ll huff and puff a lot and he’ll sound like he’s out of breath almost every second you’re fucking. he does moan, but he tries to hide it. usually it’s when his clit is being stimulated, he’ll start with a groan but when you’re thrusting into him and circling his clit at the same time his back will arch and moans will eventually spill out of him. he’s the loudest when he’s cumming when your cock is as deep in him as it can get and you’re palming at his clit in sync with your thrusts he’ll moan as he gushes onto your cock before going limp and only letting out heavy breaths and incoherent mumbling. it is possible to get him real loud if you’re continuously fucking him and hitting a specific spot without stopping then if he doesn’t choke on his breath you can manage to rack out some real moans from him. over time as your relationship progresses and he gets more confident/comfortable something in his brain will switch off and you’ll find that he starts letting out soft moans just from kissing his neck or squeezing his hips. he doesn’t talk much during sex, at least not for your first time. he may say something to provoke you into fucking him rougher but besides that he doesn’t trust himself to speak without stuttering or moaning. he’d secretly love a loud partner though, either someone who groans in his ear because he’s making you feel that good, or someone who talks a lot since he gets off on dirty talk. 

micah is of course another boy who gets real tense the first time he takes your dick. it frustrates him because he wants to appear fearless, but in reality it’s a new intrusion for his body and he fears the vulnerability that comes with it. it helps to soothe him not with words but with actions, thumbing circles into his hips and thighs or kissing him all over his face and neck and chest; really anything to distract him from the imposing length sliding into him between his legs. he’ll be gripping your arm or back, literally digging his nails into your skin as he adjusts to your size, but once you’ve bottomed out he goes still for a second as his brain attempts to catch up with everything. he’ll be tight around your cock until you start fucking him open, and then he’ll be an almost perfect fit, only tightening around you when you try to pull out to slam back into him. slow your thrusts down and micah will fuck himself back onto your cock. once he has you there’s no going back, he’ll reach back and grab your legs if you try stopping. micah’s another one who wants your cum in him but he won’t be bothered by you pulling out so long as you cum on his ass or back. he’s also like hh arthur where he overtime starts to understand the power he holds with just his pussy, and if you thought micah was bad already then you don’t even know the half of it.

after he’ll be really overwhelmed, though he won’t admit it. if you ask how he’s feeling he’ll say something kind of like “could be worse” or “just fine” but in reality he’s blissed the hell out. his heart is racing but if you point it out he’ll blame it on the adrenaline and blind lust. micah’s kind of like a once abandoned and malnourished kitten that’s being fed and given a new home. he’s stubborn but helplessly putting himself in your hands. he can’t completely believe that you love him, at least not entirely but nonetheless he can’t deny (even though he wants to) that it feels good to be held in your arms so he’ll ‘let’ you gently push his head down to rest on your chest. he’ll shoo your hand away if you try to clean him up. micah also won’t be up for a second round, he’ll be too sensitive. he takes a while to recuperate after an orgasm, both physically and mentally (even after just a single round his pussy gets all puffy and tender) but there is a chance that the next morning (if he hasn’t run off somewhere for a job) he’ll want to go again, however you’ll have to actually figure that out yourself because no way in hell is he going to actually tell you with his words. 

with javier your first time together will more likely than not be in a hotel room that he rented out after a well-paying job. javier knows he’s pretty, he’ll make sure he’s sitting up straight so that you get a good view of his body as it’s complemented by glossy damask and dim lighting. his hair will be down, freshly washed and brushed. he smells of stolen cologne, and when you put his hand to your lips to kiss it you can smell a small spritz of perfume. he’s a swift romantic, holding onto either side of your face as you kiss, beckoning you to run your hands through his hair and down his body. he’ll scold you with a smile if he feels you getting too handsy, but it’s just an excuse so that he can press your hands down against the silk sheets and let him have his way. javier will rock into your clothed hips and then act like you’ve done something perverse when he feels you hardening against him. he’ll undress after making sure you’re staying still, slowly undoing each button with grace until his shirt falls from his shoulders and is pushed onto the floor. javier will love it if you’re impatient because then he can watch you writhe beneath him as he just barely gives you enough touch to keep you painfully hard. he’ll also give you a mark or two on your neck, half because he loves giving you any kind of touch and half because he wants people to know that you’re together (as if they don’t already know). 

he’ll make you cum first, to your surprise. he jerks you off, slowly, to make you think he’s just trying to get you hard. but your mistake will be telling him you’re close, because he’ll just jerk you off faster until you cum on his hand. why does he do this? just to torture you, most likely. maybe he ‘cleans’ your dick, taking you completely down his throat until you cum again, and then he’ll get on his back and spread his legs to circle and slap his clit, taunting you in a mixture of spanish and english. he wants you desperate, he wants to see the look on your face when your cock enters him and how even when you’re so sensitive that it hurts you’ll still fuck him. he’ll push you away if you try putting your mouth on him, teasing you about ‘being in a rush’. he’ll arch his back and spread his folds to show off his glistening cunt. javier is patient, and even more sadistic. he wants you pleading and throbbing for him.

javier isn’t picky about positions, but he’ll definitely want to see your face for your first time together. he’ll ride you and it’ll be both the best and worst experience of your life. he’s good with his hips, but he’s a little bit too good. he knows how to make you feel good and he knows far too well how to get you to the brink of insanity. he goes slow first to figure out his rhythm and he’ll mentally note every reaction you make to what he does just so he can use it against you. he’ll bounce in your lap before slowing to a grind, being sure to take you as deep as he can. he wants to know what makes you twitch and groan and throb and what words make your hips jump into his, and the best way to do that is when he has full control, if you let him have it. take him onto his back and he’ll still do the same except now he has to take everything you dish out, which he can and will. javier will suddenly lift himself off your dick just to watch how your body seeks him out, because no matter what with a pussy like his he will always be the one in control. 

javier can be as loud as he can be quiet. he’s another talkative one where he’ll mostly be trying to get you worked up with condescending praise or whatever he figures out gets you hot and bothered when he whispers it in your ear. he’s at his loudest if you turn the tables on him and get him on his back, preferably after he’s already cum once, then he’ll be extra sensitive but with how much more you’ll need to fuck him to get him close again he won’t be able to hold back. he might exaggerate his moans just a little bit as a way to tease you, especially if he knows there may be someone who will hear it but overall your first time together he isn’t going to be as loud as you may expect however a second round can reveal a different side of javier. if you manage to dominate him then he really has no other choice but to moan about it. give him slow or quick deep thrusts as you circle his clit and he’ll have to bite his lip to quiet him. 

of course he takes dick amazingly well. he doesn’t get wet as quick as some of the others mentioned in this list but that doesn’t matter when the foreplay goes on for so long. his pussy isn’t that slick but it is tight. he knows when to grip around you so that you’re reeling at every roll of his hips, which is why he prefers to ride you because he loves to drive you crazy. and since javier’s a very patient man, he’s not afraid to literally hop off your dick if you’re getting too close to orgasm for his taste. he knows he’s a good fuck and he wants to prolong it as long as he can without driving himself crazy since he does need clitoral stimulation to cum. javier’s a master at controlling your orgasm as well as his own and he’s fully prepared to keep you on the edge until you can’t take it anymore and have to flip him over so you can pound him, which he’ll appreciate the excuse to get back at you tenfold. it’s a dangerous game with javier, and if you manage to find the time to spend nights and days with him it can get a little addicting. 

afterwards you’ll share a bath, where you will both wash up and also have, more likely than not, another round unless you’re really tuckered out. he likes feeling your skin against his when he helps wash you and when you wash him. move his hair out of the way to kiss his shoulder or neck and he’ll let out a pleased hum before resting back in your arms for a while. maybe even suck a spot into his skin so you can match, the thought of others seeing the evidence of your long night together will do things to him. he’ll be less talkative but still making conversation just to fill the silence, mostly teasing you about your earlier actions. when in bed it takes a while for javier to fall asleep. sex energizes him more than it makes him tired unless it was particularly arduous, but he’ll drift off with you easily if you rub circles into his skin and softly kiss him or talk to him in a hushed voice. if you end up being in the mood, he’ll definitely want to have another go in the morning as long as there’s time for him to get another bath afterwards. 

might make a second part for this to talk about more general things. this is my first time writing for sean javier and micah so i hope it's not terrible lmao. was thinking about writing for john but i might have to have some practice. if i add him here ill make a post but i wanted to get this out because i've had this in the works for so long.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part eight.

The thing is, you pride yourself on being stubborn.

Your parents hated it━ loathed that you wouldn’t give in when they demanded you find some other career path, something stable like finance or business. They hated that you moved out instead of submitting to their whims, and you imagine they hated even more that you declined every call and never answered any of the messages they sent for months afterwards until they gave up.

You’ll be the first to admit that it’s not a particularly marketable trait, nor is it very favorable in the eyes of others. It pisses people off more than anything, especially when they badger and push and prod and all you do is stand your ground. An old boss early into your career once nearly burst a blood vessel when you resolutely refused to take pictures at a private event━ threw a fit when you stuck by your morals to uphold the privacy of the athletes involved. But it’s a feature of who you are and it’s managed to save your ass more times than you can count.

Nonetheless, you also know that there’s a time when you have to swallow your pride and give in. Garrett and his threats to your career had been one of those times. A teacher in primary school and an argument about an uncompleted assignment had been another.

The situation with Lando, however, is not.

And just because Oscar is weirdly perceptive and creepily wise for his young age doesn’t mean you’re about to change things.

Why should you be the one to talk to Lando? Why should you reach out first to clear up the misunderstanding? He’s the one who misunderstood in the first place, and he’s the one that blew up without ever even thinking to give you a chance to explain what was actually happening.

If Lando wants you to talk to him again, then he’ll have to suck it up and apologize to you first. It’s the least he could do after implying the whole world thinks you’re a slut. It’s his fault you two aren’t talking in the first place, and the fact that he has the audacity to think you’ll just lay down and take it? That you’ll hear everything he had to say and just be fine with it?

Just thinking about it has you gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles the entire ride back to your flat.

This isn’t the first time the two of you have fought. It’s not even the first time Lando has been the one in the wrong. Beyond the disagreements the initial tension had caused in 2019, your worst spat was in 2021, following his crash at Spa during the qualifications for the Belgian Grand Prix.

The crash itself wasn’t the problem. You’d never get upset at someone for something out of their control, and Lando had hydroplaned because of track conditions and nothing else. But he’d been so nonchalant about it all, brushing off the medical staff with an “I’m fine,” and a “nothing’s wrong.” That, in and of itself, is not uncommon among Formule One drivers or even athletes in general. A lot of them disregard their own bodily limits and the damage they take if it means getting to do what they love, and Lando isn’t any different.

He’d had bruises all along his chest from his seatbelt and had needed to get a precautionary X-ray taken, but there hadn’t really been anything wrong. Even still, you’d fluttered about asking if he was okay, asking if medical had anything to say, asking if he thought he’d be well enough to race on Sunday. You’d understood that he’d probably been asked those same questions a few dozen times already in that hour alone, but he’d scoffed at your worry and told you to leave him alone.

So you did, after scoffing right back at him and snapping that you were just concerned and he didn’t need to be a bellend about it.

You’d ignored him for the rest of the weekend and stuck close to Daniel. Lando had had to corner you on the plane to finally apologize, and you’d jumped right back into the swing of things afterwards, laughing and joking around like none of it had ever happened.

That short fight seems like a cake walk in comparison to what’s happening now.

Deep down, there’s a desperate need for it all to go back to how it was before the winter off-season━ back when you and Lando would get drunk in each other’s hotel rooms on cheap wine while watching shitty reality TV, when you and Lando would make up stupid games in the airport waiting for your flights, when you and Lando would gossip like a couple of school girls about all the messy drama on the grid and around the factory.

But without Oscar’s infuriatingly mature outlook on everything, and his stupidly healthy way of perceiving relationships and the people involved in them, that same desperate need to have Lando in your life is buried down beneath your rekindled anger and a very justified pettiness.

Your flat is cold, dark, and empty when you push the door open. The sound of your keys clattering against the counter when you toss them echoes, as does the thud of your bag as you let it fall to the floor by your shoes.

You need to eat, shower, and sleep━ preferably in that order━ but when you open the fridge you divert your path from the tupperware of leftovers and reach for the pack of beers you never got around to finishing awhile ago.

Lando brought it around and you’ve never been much of a beer drinker, but he’d insisted you try it, so you had. The bitterness had clung to the inside of your mouth and you only made it halfway through your first bottle before handing it off for him to finish it for you. The rest of the pack had been allocated to your fridge for when he came over next, but that had never happened.

The fact that it’s beer is annoying enough, and the fact that it’s Lando’s beer pisses you off even more, but this is one of those moments where you have to push your stubbornness aside because you don’t have anything else and all you really want to do is get drunk and watch sad movies on your couch to forget about how upsetting your own life is at present.

You can’t cry over Lando if you’re already too busy crying over a fictional character.

It’s not particularly healthy, and you can imagine Oscar with his creepy omnipotence giving you a look for it, but you don’t really have the energy within you to bring yourself to care and Oscar isn’t actually there to judge you for it anyway.

The first half of February carries on similarly. You don’t get drunk every night, but you don’t talk to Lando either and Oscar’s heaving sighs and blatant exasperation whenever he third-wheels the frigidity between you and his teammate is explanation enough to what his opinion is on your choices.

But you’re standing firm.

It doesn’t matter that your phone sits heavy in the pocket of your trousers, searing into you like a hot coal with the knowledge of how easy it would be to just make a few swipes, press a few buttons, and end this whole thing━ to give in first.

The reality is that Lando did something shitty and you aren’t going to give him the impression that he has the ability to do similar shitty things in the future and get away with them.

So you cling to your hurt and your stubbornness, and you use every mildly annoying and slightly frustrating thing to keep the flame fueled within you.

Garrett helps, too.

You’re in Woking now, which is just over three and a half hours away from Manchester. Between the distance, your new schedule packed full with preparations for testing in Bahrain and the start of the season, and Garrett’s busier schedule with the resumption of the Champions League, neither of you have been able to find the time to be able to meet up for another staged date.

And it’s making Garrett fidgety. He wants results and he wants them now. Footballers always seem to have an inability to be patient, probably comes with the fact that they’re always on the move in one way or another, and this━ his reputation━ is no exception.

He sent you a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day, which you posted on your story with a sickening amount of heart emojis, and you’d both made disgustingly sappy Instagram posts about the day and how hard it was to be apart for the sake of maintaining the illusion of being smitten with one another in your fledgling romance.

Since then, he’s been hounding you about when you’re free and reminding you rather unkindly about just what he’ll do if you even think about using your schedule to get out of the agreement the two of you have.

He doesn’t seem to understand that you’re contractually obligated to travel the country for the next ten months, and even if you wanted to spend time with him and pretend to be his perfect little girlfriend, you can’t.

It makes your mood even worse, and when you accidentally snap at a poor intern who’s only crime was asking you the same question twice, you decide you have to do something.

“Y/N!” Jack’s voice crackles over the phone, and the way he says your name alone━ the excitement and seemingly genuine joy laced in his accent━ makes you smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me already.”

Much like Garrett, it’s been hard to stay in touch with Jack as well. Not as hard, because at least you like Jack and it makes it that much more motivating to put in the effort to reach out even when you’re exhausted from a day’s work and faced with hundreds of images you still need to sort through and edit, but still hard.

You message occasionally about the big things. He knows you leave for Bahrain in a few days to begin set up for pre-season testing, and you know that he got “White Girl Wasted” in Copenhagen after the team’s win. He also knows, from the few times you’ve called him tipsy and crying, anything and everything about the fiasco with Lando and just how deep it goes.

“As if I could possibly forget you, what with your amazing DJ skills,” you tease back, a bit self-consious of how your voice carries in the otherwise silent bathroom.

Jack laughs, deep and hearty. “Right. I’m a proper expert now, the lessons are paying off.”

“So what I’m hearing is now I’ll have to book you in advance to make sure you can play at my birthday party?” You dig the toe of your shoe against the tiled floor.

He hums, pretending to think on it. You can almost imagine how his face looks, eyebrows scrunched up and lips pursed to stop himself from smiling, like he’s having some intensely philosophical internal debate with himself. “You know,” he says after a moment of contemplation, “as a VIP customer, I think I can squeeze you in.” You can hear the grin in his voice. “But really, me and the lads all miss having you ‘round. I imagine a lot of them don’t like coming in anymore when they ain’t got a pretty face to look forward to.”

“Grealo, you flatterer,” you laugh. “I thought we agreed it was your job now to be the pretty face? You’ve got the cheekbones for it. And the hair.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh. “The lads just don’t appreciate me like you do.”

“Figures,” you murmur in mock commiseration.

Jack chuckles again and then clears his throat. “But real talk, though. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on your lip, worrying it between your teeth for a few seconds of baited silence before it’s your turn to heave a very real and very stress-induced sigh. “I don’t know,” you start, “I’m just stressed outta my mind and I can’t really talk about it with the people here, which makes it worse. I snapped at an intern and then lied to her about why I was stressed which made me feel doubly as bad.”

“Not fun,” Jack replies.

“Not fun at all.”

“What’s got you so stressed?”

“Everything,” you groan. “Garrett won’t leave me alone about trying to schedule another outting, but I can’t just leave and spend the day in Manchester with him on a whim. The factory is really hectic with everyone getting ready to go, and I’m included in that. But he seems to think I’m doing it on purpose, just to spite him, and if I wasn’t genuinely swamped with work then maybe but that’s not the case this time and he just won’t listen.”

You run your hand down your face, pinching at the bridge of your nose to try and alleviate the ache behind your eyes.

“He’s threatening me again, and I’m trying to explain to him what’s going on, but he’s a prick as you know so of course he isn’t listening. And on top of that,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “Lando’s still ignoring me. And because Lando won’t talk to me, Oscar thinks I should talk to him, except I still don’t think it’s too much to ask for a simple apology.”

Jack hums. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Tell me about it.”

“I think, that you shouldn’t have to talk with Lando until he apologizes. Outside of work, at least,” he starts. “What he did, what he said, hurt you a lot and you’re entitled to that hurt. And if this Oscar guy keeps pushing you to talk when you obviously aren’t ready and don’t want to, then he doesn’t sound as wise as you said he was.”

You make a noise. “No, he’s like freakishly wise, Jack. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing by sticking to this. I’m like, if he, of all people, is telling me I should talk with Lando, then maybe I should. Except I’m not. Because I’m pissed off.”

“And you’re entitled to being pissed off,” he says.

“It’s just messy,” you whine. “And I hate messy when it’s my life and not pretty people on TV or random logistical folks from the offices that I don’t know the names of because they never actually go to races.”

Jack hums again, “I feel you there. You just gotta take it one at a time, yeah? One foot in front of the other, and all that.”

“You got that from Rudolph,” you snort.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “and he’s a reindeer with a glowing nose and that’s pretty fucking cool so sue me if I pick the lad as one of my inspirations.”

You really do miss Jack. If Oscar plays the role of your little brother, then Jack takes the spot of the older one. His laughter is warm and friendly, familiar in the way that feels like coming home after a long day of work. From the day you walked in and found him waiting for you in your office, he’s always looked out for you.

Back at Etihad Campus, whenever the guys were telling stories, he’d always be sure to elaborate and explain who everyone and what everything is so you could feel included in it all. He was the first to take the plunge and invite you out the group dinners and hangouts, including you with the boys even when he didn’t really need to. You were a temporary addition to their team, and not even all that important, but he’d taken you under his wing and seemingly made it his mission to make you feel wanted.

He always just seems to know what to do.

“What do I do, Jack?”

“Well,” he drawls out, “with Garrett, I think you just gotta lay it out for him. Show him a screenshot of your crazy full calendar if you have to. He’ll listen eventually, you just gotta smack it into him sometimes. As for Lando…”

Jack sighs, “I think you’ve got two options here. You either keep waiting it out and hope he realizes how much of a total fucking muppet he’s being and apologizes, or you take the first step and start the convo.”

“What happened to making him jealous using Garrett?”

He makes a noise. “I don’t think you ever really wanted to make him jealous.”

“You’re right,” you mumble. You pull at a loose thread on your shirt. “Is it stupid that I think I’m still in love with him even after all this?”

“No,” Jack says. “I think if you weren’t still in love with him then you probably weren’t in love to begin with. It makes us do crazy things, things that hurt us sometimes.”

You both fall into silence.

“I wish I could go back in time and never even answer Garrett’s call,” you huff, hoping it hides how your voice cracks with emotion.

“I know you’ve already said it’d be too risky, but if you wanted to break things off with him, me and some of the other lads are all still willing to stand up for you if he tries to start any rumors,” Jack answers.

You shake your head, not caring that he can’t even see it. “It’s been too long now. If he comes out with some misconduct rumor he could just as easily make something up about the times me and him spent alone on our dates. Not to mention, with the way my comments and inbox was flooded with death threats just because I started dating him, I don’t want to imagine how bad it’d be if he purposefully weaponized his fans against me.”

You take a deep breath, “Even if my career somehow managed to survive, I don’t think I would.”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: i have not gotten around to editing this, so i do sincerely apologize if there are any mistakes. it's nearly 5AM and i pulled a crazy amount of consecutive all-nighters while keeping up with the pre-season testing, so my brain isn't functioning as well as it probably should be, and that's also why it took me a little longer than normal to get this out. i'm running on four hours of sleep from last night and my hopes and dreams! so, alas, if there are any grammatical errors, that's why. anyways, i hope you enjoy! i'm very excited to begin working on the next part~

[deliverred]

[alt route]

It unnerved him. That was Lukas...right? But that face...It was a mask...hopefully?

His hand had already taken hold of his dagger and placed the tip at the base of the young man's neck. "I...I'll get you out of there." Even the little pinprick cause by just that as him drop the dagger and instead attempt to try his hands underneath it. Whether it was the mask being on too tight or...the fact that he was truly so off put by it, he couldn't tell but the thing wasn't budging.

"Who's done this to you? Once you're out of this thing I'll make sure there aren't even any remains when I'm through with them."

Of all the reactions he was expecting tonight, a knife at the back of his neck was not one of them.

"Ah..." He doesn't start at the sensation of something sharp against his skin, edge digging into flesh just enough to draw blood, but he is surprised when he recognizes Matthias' voice behind him. "Matthias? What are you--" Lukas begins to question, keeping his tone calm to try and mitigate whatever agitation has caused the other man to draw a knife on him from behind--

Only to be forced to stand slightly on his tip toes as Matthias tries to yank the mask off his face.

And it. Doesn't. Budge.

It sticks fast as if it's his own skin, and Lukas makes a sound of discomfort at the feeling -- only for that sound to crawl up his throat and morph into the grating growl of a dog that reverberates in his chest. Not just bizarre but entirely inhuman, but he has very little time to question at what the hell is going on when his vision narrows down to a fine point and his body starts to move without his input.

His hands come up to grip Matthias' by the wrists, forcing his hands away from the mask and then bodily throwing the larger man over his shoulder and into the ground with a strength that he simply did not have normally.

Lukas crouches over Matthias, and where before the mask had clearly been a mask -- it didn't look real, its features while clear were still flat and off, and there had been a visible edge where the mask ended and his flesh began -- it no longer looked as such. There was still something deeply off about the mask's appearance, but it looked less like a prop and more like something living and breathing. The snout was more pronounced now, the mouth split open unnervingly to clack teeth in its jaws, a long tongue dripping drool as it hung from the unnerving grin plastered on his face.

"Funny, I was thinkin' the same thing! Why leave with leftovers in a doggy bag when you can just devour it, bones an' all?"

The voice was not his, high and manic and with an animalistic oddness to it that made it just a bit difficult to parse. Maybe it was the tongue and teeth not being correct for forming and voicing words. Lips peeled back into a snarl, barring equally as bizarre teeth as he leaned in, dead eyes staring into Matthias'.

"Lemme ask ya a question before I rip into ya like a dollar store chew toy! ...Ya got that dawg in ya?"

[the-meat-machine]

Im confused about Cherub anatomy

I thought it was kind of odd that they have gender? Like you could assume that they just choose one because they're trying to project an identity on the same body which sorta gives an indication that the body lacks male or female traits for this reasoning to make sense. BUT, if we look at Caliborns/Calliopes mother and father theres some clear sexual dimorphism. It makes me wonder how their bodies even get that way? I ended up theorizing that they may metamorphosize to achieve these differences. My theory 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 hold some weight, ex: in Caliborns Masterpiece we can hear that his voice is deep and snarly. Now, we haven't heard Calliopes voice to make a fair comparison after all, she could also possibly sound just like that. So maybe this isn't the strongest example but when Cherubs sleep and when the other personality takes over, the body does change. From the eyecolor, tongue color, cheek color, and blood color, as for body figure it's unclear if that changes when waking up. If we want to count how Caliborn and Calliope are drawn in Act 7, in the opening you can see Calliope has a curved figure and breasts while Caliborn has a wider shoulders, and a flat chest . But then again, Calliope is drawn differently multiple times throughout the act 7 flash so maybe not much weight either. The strongest basis i have for this is probably just how their mom and dad look. In conclusion: either their body fully transitions into the other gender when one of the personalities wakes up then swaps into the other gender when sleeping for the other personality to take over the body with their traits included OR the body has both male and female traits at all times and are stuck there until the one the personalities wins the body and the loser personality bodily traits disappear from the body so the winners traits take over. But this could also not hold weight since Caliborn apparently didn't know what boobs were when talking with Jane. But yet again Calliopes drawings featured boobs so idk. Feel free too tell me everything i got wrong not even i know what the fuck im talking about I've been listening to karkalicious for like 6 hours today (newer version)

So I came into this ask fully intending for my answer to be "cherub sexes make no sense, just throw them out". But then as I was writing out why they make no sense, I accidentally came up with an explanation that makes them (sort of) make sense. Whoops. I'm going to post that as its own separate thing, 'cause it got long, and I probably should edit it to include a clearer explanation of isogamy, ha ha… ha.

But anyway, that aside, some of the details you brought up still don't really make sense - especially alt!Calliope's appearance in Act 7. Because the thing is, alt!Calliope shouldn't look like an adult cherub at all. Even if she predominated "correctly", she still died young, before she could fully mature. If she was truly fully grown, she would have wings, but she doesn't. And during the conversation where she and alpha Calliope meet, the two of them appear to have the same height and build.

The simplest explanation for her Act 7 appearance is that it's just art weirdness. But if we wanted to come up with an in-universe explanation, two possible ones come to mind:

She's a ghost. Ghosts are shown to be able to change their appearances, either consciously or subconsciously. So she's given herself a more adult body that matches her adult mind.

She lived long enough after predomination for her body to partially, but not completely, mature. Thus, she has a somewhat adult-like body, but doesn't have wings and doesn't look as large as the adult female cherub we see depicted elsewhere (because even the females are pretty darn ripped). In this case, it's during the conversation with alpha Calliope that she's altering her appearance, perhaps choosing to make herself look younger to put Calliope and/or Jade at ease.

As for Caliborn seeming to have broader shoulders in Act 7 than Calliope does, we could say that maybe it's just that Caliborn has more muscle mass there by virtue of being more physically active.

I do like to imagine (when I accept that cherubs have biological "sexes" at all) that young cherubs have undifferentiated bodies, and they only develop into "male" or "female" forms after predomination. This fits in with what Aranea says about how the only way to tell the two young cherubs apart is by the color of their cheeks (though as you note, there are a few other differences too).

But that's still kind of complicated, because what makes one of the personalities definitively "male" and the other definitively "female" when their bodies are identical? My best theory is that there's some sort of hormone or something in their blood that differs between juvenile males and females, since the blood seems to be the main thing that physically changes when they swap bodies.

As for Caliborn not understanding what boobs are while Calliope does... that's probably just because Calliope actually pays attention to humans, whereas Caliborn is willfully ignorant about them.

(p.s. I didn't notice until this ask that alt!Calliope appears to have boobs in Act 7. I always assumed cherubs didn't have them, since during Aranea's explanation, the art is ambiguous enough that you could interpret the female as being flat-chested. But no: act 7 says cherub boobs. Argh. Why. I am rejecting this from my personal headcanon and assuming that it was just some weird folds in alt!Calliope's robes that made her look like she had boobs.)

[carnivorous-canine98]

An Interesting Predicament

Word count: 2,401

Tigger warning: Fearplay resulting in accidental bodily injury. Read at your own risk.

You woke up with a groan, head full on throbbing with a splitting headache. "W-What happened?" The words breathlessly flew past your lips as eyes started to glance around. Another groan forced itself out as you placed your hands on your hand. 

Just trying to crane your neck was enough to bring on a severe wave of dizziness back to you. 

It hurt, it really did… but now wasn't exactly the time or place to just stand idle.

Where was I to even begin with? The question formed in your mind as your thoughts cleared some… yet, it was still hard to focus. You tried to, for the life of you, you tried to focus. But something was still throwing you off.

What was casting this fog over your brain, it was like you could actually hear it.

It sounded like… tapping? More specifically, the kind of tapping someone would do when bored while sitting at a table.

"Well… seems like you're finally coherent. Took you long enough," a feminine voice purred softly above you. 

Your body suddenly stiffened, causing your head to jolt upwards. The sudden momentum and searing pain was enough to send you flat on your back.

Deep maroon pools were staring down at your frame with a rather amused look. Their cat-like pupils seemed to constrict inward. Rich, thick black hair that seemed to go down to her back, covered her almost deathly pale skin. You also swore you saw some pointed ears sticking through the thick hair. It was pretty hard to tell how dark your surroundings were…

It was also apparent, she was huge… or rather, you're the one who's small.

A soft snort, followed by a low chuckle escaped their lips. "Damn… I wasn't expecting company for some time, but…" The woman flashed a rather toothy grin, showing off some pretty impressive double canines.

"I'm not complaining in the slightest…  it's nice to have dinner delivered at your doorstep."

Your blood ran cold at hearing the words leave the woman's lips. Her grin seemed to widen the longer you stared up at her. Using your hands and feet, you tried to scramble to your feet… only for a sharp pressure to pin you flat on your back.

Glancing up, a clawed finger was pressed down on your chest. Even more color drained from your face when you saw how close the nail's tip was to your face and neck. "As much as a game of cat and mouse sounds fun right now… I'd rather not have you fall to your death, little mortal," she spoke, with a surprisingly softer edge to her voice. The woman's gaze showed brief concern before that huge predatory grin spread across her lips one more. 

She maneuvered her fingers around to where she was pinning your arms and lower body to… what you had to guess was a table. With careful movements, she somehow pulled you closer. The woman leaned in close to where you could practically see the saliva dripping from her canines.

Astounding, cool air flew past her lips as she breathed. Still didn't change the fact you were dangerously close to her maw. Her lips started to part slowly. You squirmed under her grip, earning a low chuckle from your captor.

It was almost like she was enjoying toying around you. 

Your body jolted from surprise as a cold, spongy surface ran along your side and face. A low, pleasured rumble emerged from her throat. A look of pure bliss on her features as she licked her lips and teeth. 

"Gods above," she breathed, exhaling cold air around you. "You taste divine. I can't remember the last time a mortal tasted this good…"

Her sinister grin once again reclaimed her face as you felt yourself suddenly go airborne. "You know… I could toss you in and call it good. But honestly… I want to savor. Every. Last. Second." 

The woman moved her fingers around effortlessly to where she had you hanging by the back of your shirt. "Mmmm fuck… I can't hold myself back anymore," she hissed, her eyes now flashing with a crimson hue. The woman looked like she was about to say something… nope, she stuffed the upper half of your body into her mouth.

A loud scream echoed in the chamber that was her mouth. You tried to kick and thrash around, only earning a pitiful chuckle from your captor soon to be devourer. 

The spongy surface that was her tongue, pushed itself against your chest and face. An elated purred poured out from the back the  cold, fleshy cavern. You shuddered, feeling physically sick thinking about your upcoming fate. 

With hands now out front, you tried to push and punch the muscle that was savoring your frame. This poor attempt of fighting back only seemed to make your captor snicker in amusement. You gave a sharp yelp as your whole body was shoved into the rest of her mouth. 

Your squirm started to increase, hot tears falling from your cheeks. You're going to die… you're really going to die. Lifting your legs up, you started to kick at the roof of the woman's mouth. You gave one last strong kick, the force sending you back a bit.

Suddenly, a sharp searing pain shot up through your arm. The dull metallic scent of blood filled your lungs. The slow burn of dread began to set in as you slowly turned to look at your arm. In what little light you were given, you saw there was a decent gash along your forearm. Upon closer inspection, it thankfully wasn't extremely deep. It was surface level at most.

This still didn't change the fact you were injured. Panic started to set in, your breathing picking up. You had to get out of here, you just had to. Who knows how this.. this thing would react now there was actual blood involved.

The woman seemed awfully quiet for some strange reason. No deep rumbling or purrs echoing throug out the cavern. Not even the slightest twitch from the muscle you lay upon. It felt like a lifetime had passed when everything started to move around you. You clenched your eyes closed, waiting to plummet into depths unknown….

It never came.

Instead, you felt cold air greet you, strangely wrapping your body in its embrace. Slowly, you dared to open your eyes, a scared gasp forced from your lungs as huge eyes lay on you. 

Your body lay in the giant woman's now cupped hand. Her features showed severe concern mixed with guilt. This was somehow hypocritical seeing as she was the complete opposite not even five seconds ago. 

Rage started to build up in your chest, angry tears now streaming from your cheeks. "J-Just get it over with you… YOU FUCKING MONSTER AND QUIT TOYING WITH ME."

The woman visibly winced at your comment, a somber smile pulling at her lips. "Not… not the first time I've been called that, but it's deserved for the hell I just unleashed," she said softly, remorse her voice. "Sorry… little one, I got carried away."

You wanted to say something smart, to snap at her for the sheer terror inflicted on you, but couldn't…

It wasn't because you couldn't find the words. Oh you had plenty to give her a good verbal lashing. It was the sudden dizziness that attacked you again. Everything was getting hard to focus on once again, be you swore the woman once again opened her mouth in front of you.

You tried to slide back, holding your injured arm in a weak attempt to stop her. You closed your eyes tightly once again, waiting for the cool dampness to engulf you once again. It happened, but it was only your gashed arm that entered the mouth. 

The woman's lips closed rather gently around your upper arm. Shivers went down your body as you felt her tongue, seemingly tasting, your bloody forearm. A weak whimper traveled from your throat right as she pulled her lips away from you. 

Expecting your arm to be gone, you dared to look… Not only was the appendage there, the cut was completely healed. Not even so much as a scratch remained. Your eyes widened in surprise, looking from your arm to her and back again.

"H-How?" You stammered, surprised that even the dizziness was now gone.

"My saliva has some pretty powerful healing enzymes in it," she breathed. "At someone your size, it tends to work pretty fast…"

"I-I see," you exhaled fiercely, clear venom still in your words. "S-Still doesn't change the fact you're a Goddamn disgusting freak." A soft chuckle came from the woman as she tilted her head to the side. "Yeah.. might as well lay on thick there. I get it. I was very much in the wrong… Can't go easy on a gal can you?"

You huffed rather dramatically, crossing your arms like an angry toddler. "Your arm? Does it still hurt or anywhere else for that matter?" She asked tentatively. "No.. as a matter of fact I feel like nothing even happened to begin with."

A soft sigh escaped her lips, once again expelling cool air past those giant lips. "That's… that's good to hear and again, I'm sorry. I honestly never meant to bring any harm to you. I got a little lost in the commotion."

"Wait, if you never meant to harm me… then why the fuck were trying to eat me?! Don't you know what happens in the gut!" You shouted angrily.

A low chuckle escaped the woman's throat, eyes shining with merriment. "Sweetheart, let me enlighten you on something," she purred, arching an eyebrow. "If it isn't exactly obvious by now… I'm not exactly a human now am I? I think the eyes and teeth alone toss this fact wide open."

"Y-Yeah… guess that's true, b-but it still doesn't change the fact on what happens in the digestive tract!" You shot back.

A low groan escaped the woman, pinching the bridge of her nose. She proceeded to mutter a few inchoate things before putting her focus back onto you. "I have full control of my digestive system," she started bluntly. "The most I'd put you through would be letting you thrash around in there for a bit then slap a sleeping spell on you… Bam! You'd wake up thinking it was all a bad dream."

"This isn't my first rodeo with a tiny mortal entering my home, there kid," She huffed, getting straight to the point.

"First time one of your snacks got hurt?" You barked back.

Her eyes avoided even looking at you with that statement. "Y-Yes… this was indeed the first time someone got hurt while doing this," she croaked. She bit down on her lip, still not looking at you. It was getting clear as day that she knew she messed up big time.

No words flew past your lips or even hers for that matter. The agonizing awkward silence was almost deafening for you. Your breathing seemed to pick up a bit, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Dusk…" The woman spoke suddenly.

"Huh?" You asked, clearly confused.

"My name is Dusk…" she hummed. "I know it not much, but I'm trying to extend an olive branch…"

"I-I see…" you muttered. "It's something… still doesn't change the fact you were a down right gluttonous ass hat."

"Oh, how you wound me," Dusk moaned slyly, clearly fine. She glanced down, a smug smirk pulling her lips. "Yeah… I'm an ass. So what, sweets?" 

"Oi, quit with nicknames ACK~" You were suddenly cut off as Dusk ran her cold tongue over your whole body. "Seriously?! The fuck?! And good lord… how is your tongue so flipping cold? I thought it was supposed to at least be warm in one's mouth."

Dusk purred, licking her lips and teeth, clearly happy with her work. "Couldn't help myself… you taste delicious," she cooed. "As to answer your question… I'm what I like to call a 'dead man walking.' Alive while not being fully alive. Think along the lines of a vampire, but not actually one…"

That seemed to raise more questions than give answers. But you weren't given a chance to ask anything as she once again opened her mouth, running the cool muscle along you again. With newfound vigor, you gave the slick surface a good shove… only to be slurped back into the fleshy cavern.

Your heartbeat started to accelerate rapidly, breathing quickening. Eyes darted around, extremely fearful that the situation would repeat itself. You were expecting Dusk to be just as rough and wild, yet you got the complete opposite.

That godforsaken purring didn't die down even once, but her movements were much slower and gentle. Calculated even. She still worked on coating your body in saliva, occasionally pushing you up the palette of her mouth. Surprisingly, she didn't pin you up there, allowing for full movement. 

Your breathing seemed to calm down a bit,  great full Dusk wasn't going hog ass wild. The woman let out a quiet hum, vibrating all around you. The longer she kept this up, the heavier your body started to feel. It was getting pretty tough to keep your eyes open.

And you had to admit… It was weirdly comfortable.

An annoyed whine worked its way from your chest as your eyes started to droop. It wasn't long before you were fast asleep, barely noticing everything slowly starting to shift backwards…

—------------------

Dusk smiled to herself, relieved that the small human within her jaws was now fast asleep. She continued to savor their taste, slowly tilting her back. The woman continued to maneuver slowly so as to not wake them up.

Once Dusk felt the small form at the back of her throat, she swallowed gingerly. Out of habit she placed a few fingers to her neck, tracing the small lump down. She let out a blissful sigh, leaning back as he continued to gather what remained of the human's taste. 

"Damn," she hummed, shuddering as she felt the weight settle nicely in her stomach. "You're one tasty human…" She placed a hand on her midriff, a gentle smile on her face. "Rest up… you need it." Dusk purred softly, a bit of a smirk pulling at her lips.

"Don't think I'll be letting you go just yet, little human…" 

[chimcess]

Birdie Shoppe || pjm (VII)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, SLOW BURN Word Count: 6.5k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the north and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Birdie, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the 123rd Birdie, a young girl who was given her position too early and asked by the goddess herself to fulfil a task none had ever done before- become the Grand Witch of the Foxglove pack. Now a woman, Y/N is revered as the most loved and powerful Birdie of all time, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: Long-hair Jimin (yes, this is a warning), heavy emotions, possession, mature language, angst, hurt/comfort, talks of PTSD, anxieties, symptoms of depression, talks of bodily injury, self depreciation, making out, did I say angst?, fluff A/N: Thank you for all of your support! I appreciate each and every one of you so much.

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Looking around the cellar, I found myself unable to move. My brain was still recovering from the shock. Jimin had kissed me. Jimin wanted to kiss me. Where had that come from? What happened? Staring down at the blood soaked floor, I hopped around and fought to break free from the nightgown pooled around me. I needed to see him.

Flying up the stairs, I was disappointed to see the door had been shut. I assumed Jimin had closed it in order to keep Taehyung from waking up. I squawked loudly, flapped my wings, and waited. The door swung open and Jimin quickly came back into the cellar. Surprised, I flew up and jumped back. Jimin shut the cellar door behind him and stared at me from the top of the steps. 

I was frustrated. I would never be able to speak with him in this form and it made this all the more difficult. My fears from earlier reared their ugly head at me and I was once again faced with every reason why this should not happen. Whatever high I had been on was lost and replaced with a gut wrenching realization. My feelings were wrong and no matter what Jimin thought was happening could not. 

Flying back to the desk, I sat on top of the stack of spell books and waited for the alpha to join me. After a few more seconds of looking at me in silence, Jimin slowly made his way towards me. Sitting in the chair across from me, he took a deep breath before speaking.

“I need to tell you something.”

I continued to stare at him. He looked nervous. I felt sad that his earlier passions were gone once more. Whatever had happened was truly over and I wanted to cry. Everything was going to shit and it was all my fault. If I had just pushed him away we could have avoided whatever this was about to become.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Jimin said.

My heart raced in my tiny chest. It was surreal just how different he could look from second to second. Now, he seemed stoic again. His features were perfectly trained and flat making him seem cold. I braced myself and waited.

“I think showing you might be easier than saying it. It’s difficult to get out, actually.”

He was nervous again. His eyebrows were scrunched together and he nursed his bottom lip between his teeth. Standing, he rubbed his hands on his pants before holding one out for me. I sat on it with ease.

He took us outside and placed me on the grass gently. This was the first night I had not gone out with Patto since the wolves had arrived. I looked around for the little bird but he was nowhere to be found. Brushing off my worries, I looked at Jimin. He was probably with Morla and the rest of the loud mouths. Shiloh had to be there as well. 

“First, I would like to apologize for withholding this from you for so long,” Jimin began. “I never knew how to bring it up and you seemed to be happy with how things were going. I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

Great, I thought, I was getting broken up with before things had even begun. His strange behavior was becoming unsettling. I was not used to seeing Jimin pacing around and rambling. I wanted to reach for him but willed myself to stay where he had left me.

“Okay,” He whispered to himself. “I’m just going to get this over with.”

That stung. Had it taken a kiss for him to realize he was not attracted to me? Did playing with my heart set things into perspective? My thoughts began to spiral once more until I noticed Jimin take a few steps back. 

Taking a small breath, he ran for two steps before jumping up. Watching him shift left me awestruck. There was no pain or screams, within one fluid motion he went from a man to a wolf. His clothes shredded around him and I winced. Now he would have no choice but to let me make him something. The thought filled me with a small ounce of joy. Standing before me now was a large, silver wolf.

He looked a lot like Miles. His fur was fluffy and made him look like an ungroomed dog. He lowered his head before turning to the side. The moonlight illuminated his fur and that was when I saw three large lashes on his side. Stunned, I stood up and hopped closer. There was no way…

Thinking about it, it made more sense for Miles to be Jimin. My wolf was the same color and size, and remembering his voice they sounded similar. I felt embarrassed for not connecting the dots sooner. A part of me probably would have if I had truly wanted to know more about my friend, but I was also fine keeping him a mystery. Knowing that Jimin and I had actively spoken about him together made it difficult to speak. I had said far too much… I was so embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” Jimin said, his voice ringing out in my head.

“I forgive you,” I replied. 

I was not upset or angry with him. I could understand why he would want to keep something like this to himself. At the time we had hardly ever spoken and it had to have been shameful to show up at my door in such a poor condition. Still, I could not pretend I did not feel slighted in a way. He knew who I was, he always knew who I was, and still acted innocently. He knew how I had felt about him to some extent and kept his mouth shut. I felt like a fool.

“You seem angry.” I shook my head. 

“I’m not angry. I’m hurt.”

Jimin took a few steps toward me. He was slow and deliberate in his moves and I had a feeling he was afraid of scaring me off. I stayed rooted in my spot and tried to calm down. We would speak about this like adults. I refused to run away. Everything had changed and I needed to know what this meant. Why had he kissed me?

“I’m sorry,” He said. 

Jimin curled his large body around mine and sighed. The gentle breeze caused my feathers to ruffle awkwardly. Using my beak, I smoothed them out in an attempt to keep myself distracted. I was feeling fidgety.

“I know you said something to me that was very personal without knowing it was me,” He started. “I’m so sorry for taking that choice away from you.”

I looked at him. It was odd how much of him I could see in his eyes. It was times like this where I wished I could stay mad at him, scream and yell, but I knew it would be impossible. He was so sincere and genuine and while it did not make anything that happened okay, I could at the very least move past this. Taking a small breath, I hopped closer to his massive head and nuzzled his nose with the top of my head.

“I’d rather it be you than anyone else,” I replied. “I’m not upset about you knowing my name, or whatever else I might have said. I’m upset that you felt like you had to keep it a secret from me. As if I would have turned you away if I had found out. That’s what hurts me- more than any of those other things.”

“But I lied.”

“Yes,” I replied. “You did.”

“I heard personal things about you without your knowledge.”

“I’m aware.”

Jimin groaned, “Why are you comforting me?”

“Because,” I sighed, nudging myself in between his arm and neck. “I hate seeing that look on your face.”

The both of us got quiet for a while. I enjoyed his warmth and the way his fur tickled my wings. He seemed content to stay like this but I could tell a storm was raging behind his eyes. He was so easy to read when he let his guard down, or had I become so accustomed to him that it was easy? Thinking about the night he cried in my kitchen, I snuggled closer to him. I would rather us talk things out then to see him like that again.

“I…” Jimin said before going silent again. 

I waited patiently. My eyes were beginning to close. His warmth and the beating of his heart were the perfect lullaby to lull me to sleep. He smelled so good.

“I want to be completely honest from now on,” He finally said.

I nodded into his chest. Jimin purred at the sensation and curled his body closer to mine. I urged him to keep talking.

“I’ve known for some time now that you mean more to me than anybody else.”

I opened my eyes.

“I felt it for the first time in the forest. Do you remember that? The two of us wandering around trying to get you back home? I had this strange feeling at the time. Of course, now I know it was me wanting to be close to you. I brushed it off. I told myself you were a girl I’d never seen before and that’s why I liked you so much.”

He snorted while shaking his head. The long hairs on his chin got in my eye and I backed away annoyed. Knowing this would be a continued issue, I gave up on the snuggles and perched myself on the top of his head. Jimin did not seem to mind at all.

“During my present ceremony I knew for sure. I felt everything in my body yearning for you and I could do nothing. When I spoke to Hoseok about it he said it was normal, that all of our wolves had the same reaction at first, but when it never went away I knew. I didn’t want to accept it but I knew you were my mate.”

Hearing the word mate made my heart drop. Jimin and I? Mates? The idea was only a fantasy and I worried if I pinched myself I’d wake up and realize I had been dreaming. Hope began to blossom inside of my chest and spread throughout my body. Thank you, Lilith, thank you. I felt the breeze gently caress my head and felt my eyes prickling with tears. 

“Coming here has been purely selfish,” Jimin proclaimed. “Sure, Taehyung needs someone in his corner, but truthfully I just used it as an excuse to stay as close to you as I possibly could. I was so worried that you and I would not work. I mean, my pack would have a difficult time understanding it and I know your fears about the future.

“However, I realized, sitting in that cellar, how little I care about any of that. As long as I have you none of it matters anymore. I’d pick you a million times over, and I’m sorry that I ever felt any shame about you and I.”

It was bizarre hearing him speak honestly. Every time I had seen him, except the rare moments when we were alone, he had been so cut off from me. Our world hardly collided and I saw myself as some girl pining over a man who she could never have. I was fine with that. That was something I could live with. This, however, opened up my world to so many possibilities I had never thought could be mine. Imagining my cottage warm and bright, Jimin bringing home our Yule tree with the small children we would have helping him decorate it filled my heart with so much joy. Then I thought of everything we would have to endure in order to make it that far and saddened. That was a future I had no business thinking about when this was so fresh and brand new. 

“Was it shame or fear?” I choked out.

Jimin paused thoughtfully. 

“When I was younger, I would have to admit it was more shameful. I was shallow and vain then. The more that time went on it had transformed into fear. How could I watch you tear yourself apart for my people and feel anything but pride in you? I’m afraid of what the elders might do to you if they found out.”

“It worries me as well, but they can’t hurt me.” I reasoned.

Jimin scoffed, “You see what they’ve done to Taehyung. Ahn has known him since he was born. If any of them so much as thought of laying a finger on you I’d kill them. I can’t rip my family apart anymore than it already is.”

The small ripple of pleasure that ran through me at the thought of Jimin protecting me was overshadowed by the grief building within me. He said nothing mattered to him, that it would always be me, but I could never ask that of him. He loved his family more than life itself. Our affections were instinctual and second nature, but truly we had hardly known one another. I could not tell you his favorite color or what his dreams were just as he could not pick up my favorite book off of the shelf. We cared for one another but we were practically strangers. I would never in my life give him an ultimatum. Life has too many nuances to get clarity at times.

“I’d never ask you to do that,” I conceded. 

“I know,” Jimin whispered in reply. “I just need time to figure out what to do.”

I clicked in response before hopping down his back. Jimin laughed, his body squirming and twitching when my talons grazed his skin. Playfully, I pinched his side gently before floating to the ground below. Jimin let out a high pitched whine of discomfort before shooting me a glare.

“I’ll get you back for that,” He threatened.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied.

Hopping around in the grass, I began to think about Litha and how many wonderful things we could do together. If he celebrated Yule, he more than likely celebrated the summer Equinox as well, but I could not be certain. I wondered how differently it might be with my friends and I. It had been a long time since I threw a big party and it would be nice to change the dreary mood around here. Jimin could even meet Wendy and Hyun-Jin. Looking up at the wolf, he stared down at me gently. Deciding I needed to be frank, I stopped my party planning to focus on the two of us.

“I’d like for us to take things slowly,” I started. “There’s a lot happening right now and I’d like to get to know you better. Like you said, you have a family and friends to think about and I need some time to be less… insecure. It may not seem like it, but I can’t fathom you having feelings for me after keeping mine hidden for so long.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up. “You’re giving me a chance?”

I laughed, “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“It’s just that-” He shook his head in disbelief, “-after everything I thought…”

“Thought what?” I joked. “I’d run away screaming? I don’t just let anybody kiss me, you know.”

Jimin ducked his head bashfully. 

“I’m deeply sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.”

I rolled my eyes, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Jimin huffed, his happiness rolling off of him like waves, before setting his head on his paws.

“Tell me,” He squinted his eyes. “Which would you prefer? Peaches or strawberries?”

Sitting on the ground, I felt my heart swelling. He would truly try and that made whatever hell we would go through later worth it. Looking into his eyes, I was happy to find nothing but care in them. No more heavily guarded stares or coldness. It was just Jimin and that was enough for me.

“I’d have to say peaches,” I replied.

“Why?”

Amused, I looked toward the empty bushes along the side of the cottage. A few weeks ago they had huge, juicy strawberries growing on every vine. I made countless deserts and sent so many to my friends, and yet still had too many to use. Jimin followed my eyes and hummed in recognition. 

“Peaches aren’t as available to me. Jin always begs me to make him this convoluted, extremely difficult to make cake whenever he finds them at the market.”

“I’m not a fan of either,” Jimin giggled. “Well, they’re not my favorite, I should say. I’m more of a blueberry man.”

“You know,” I looked at him. “I made a great blueberry cake.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” He joked.

And the two of us sat up talking about our favorite fruits, desserts, and foods. It was different, talking about such mundane things with Jimin. It was also strange to find out that we had very little in common when it came to most things. He loved sweet food while I was a big fan of sour candies, and I loved vanilla while he craved chocolate like no other. The more he spoke the more he reminded me of Jin and I liked it more than I thought I would. He was playful and funny, but unlike the witch, he never took it overboard. It was nice talking with him. Almost as easy as breathing.

The cottage felt lighter now. Jimin spoke more often and laughed with Taehyung. He liked helping me cook even if he had no idea what he was doing. Vegan cooking was a far cry from his typical diet and I knew he was struggling to keep up. I enjoyed our mornings going over my various cookbooks together. Taehyung never helped but he always ate plenty to make up for it. Like seemed to be going forward even with the threat of Foxglove looming over our heads. 

Delinah had come to tell me she heard dark whispers going around the forest. The pack had grown impatient with their runaway and wanted to come and collect him themselves. Morla had said Chief Ahn alluded to coming along with the rest of the elders and the battle happening in my clearing. Taehyung and Jimin had not reacted well to the news, and their time at the cottage had slowly become less and less. Washing mushrooms for dinner, I worried over what could happen if they decided to come here. 

The wolves had no idea what they were doing coming here. Things lurked in these woods, things far more dangerous than them, and it was concerning how little any of them seemed to care about it. The Birdies had kept them at bay for the most part, and Aldara had all but scared them into hiding, but the forest knew things had changed. I was not my aunt and my magic was fickle. There was no telling what could happen if a group of wolves were out in the open and vulnerable. There would be nothing I could do to help them either. My magic was too weak and help would never arrive fast enough. 

I did not want to talk with the boys about this. It was a fear that only plagued my mind and the Quietus had been gone for so long I doubted they were truly a threat. Still, I had learned to rely on my instincts after the fire. Something within me refused to let the thought go and that meant something. It always did. 

Shiloh read off the next step of the recipe but I hardly heard her. I did not need her help to make this mushroom stew. I had done it more times than I could count but the owl enjoyed feeling helpful. Taking out a baking sheet, I began tearing apart the mushrooms and laid them out on the pan. Sprinkling them with oil, I placed them on my stove. Flicking my wrist, I asked the wall clock to remind me to take them out in 35 minutes. The clock chimed in reply.

“Where’s your mind?” Shiloh asked. 

Dazed, I shook my head. “What?”

“You’re not here today. What’s going on? Is it about what Delinah said?”

I nodded. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that,” Shiloh sighed. Flying onto my shoulder, the barn owl rubbed her head against my cheek. I pet her back in reply. I appreciated her comfort. “Everything is going to be alright.”

But I knew they weren’t. The knot twisting in my stomach told me that nothing was going to be alright. My fears for Taehyung grew. This forest was frightful, yes, but the only threat here would be Namjoon. My heart broke at the thought that I was feeling grief for him before he had been hurt. Oh, God, Taehyung…

Clutching my chest, I allowed a few tears slip out before a chill creeped up my spine. Gasping loudly, I flinched away. Shiloh flew up, my jerking causing her to lose balance. I heard my name being called but I was already far away.

“Y/N!” The wind screamed. 

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” I cried.

“Listen to me,” I had never spoken to this person before. “You’ll have to make a choice. You’ll know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have enough time. Please, just listen!”

I felt hands grabbing my face and holding it. It was numbingly cold and my senses were overwhelmed with the smell of mint. My knees had given out but I did not feel the impact. It was as if I were underwater.

“A sacrifice will be made and you’ll be the judge,” The wind whispered. “Your choices are important, Y/N-”

I could feel the warmth returning to my fingertips and my breathing became more normal. The dazed I had been trapped in was gone and I was aware of the cottage again. I could make out Shiloh’s silhouette on the kitchen island and smell the mushrooms cooking. 

“I’m sorry,” The wind whispered and then it was gone.

Gasping, I shot up and looked around. I had fallen. The clock was ringing loudly and Shiloh called my name wearily. It was something we had both grown used to over the years, but it still caught us off guard. It had been a long time since I had zoned out like that. Shaking, I began to stand. The wolves were still not back. I told the clock to stop and the ringing ceased. I could feel the tears staining my cheeks but ignored them. Taking a large breath, I took the mushrooms out of the oven and went back to making the stew. 

“Are you alright?” Shiloh asked.

I nodded but chose not to speak. I did not trust my voice not to waver. Whatever that was, I would keep it to myself. No one needed to know about the voice or its warnings. It was clear that this was my battle and I would have to figure it out by myself. Silently crying to myself, I placed a large pot over the open flame of my stove and added oil, sautéing onions, and throwing in the seasons and garlic I had to the side after they had gone translucent. On autopilot, I kept to myself while Shiloh hesitantly restarted telling me the recipe. This time, I appreciated it and listened carefully. My brain was far too scrambled to think about anything properly. 

The wolves made it back just as I was adding the cornstarch to begin creating the gravy for the stew. This was one of my favorite recipes and Aldara made it often. Thinking of her only made my heart ache even more. I wish she were here and could tell me what to do. Why had she never come to me? Taehyung’s boisterous laughter lightened up the house and Shiloh flew to him. They were unable to speak but she loved his energy. I had to admit having Kim Taehyung around was a blessing in disguise. He never failed to make things not as bad as they seemed. Plastering on a smile, I turned to my friends.

“Just in time. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Glancing at Jimin, I could tell he knew something was wrong. He always did. Still, I smiled at him. I saw his eyebrows scrunch up and he came to my side. Ignoring him, I made myself busy by getting bowls and silverware ready. The stew bubbled and thickened. Shiloh reminded me to add miso to the broth and I thanked her under my breath. Placing a large dollop in the pot, I stirred until it dissolved and went back to setting the table. Jimin watched me from beside the stove wordlessly. Taehyung continued to talk vibrantly about what they had done today.

“Jimin’s impossible to train with,” Taehyung complained jokingly. “He’s too good.”

Forcing a laugh, I grabbed bread that was going stale and placed it on the center of the table. I preferred something chewy with this stew and it needed to be used. 

“Or you’re just that bad,” I replied.

“Who’s side are you on?” Taehyung whined, coming to sit at the table.

“Jimin’s, of course.”

Taehyung had noticed our relationship. While he never explicitly said it, I could see it in his eyes. He was far more observant than I had originally given him credit for and I stopped trying to hide my affections. No one ever commented on it, not even Shiloh, but we were all aware something was happening. Neither of us had said the truth and I planned to keep it that way until we were both ready for that step. Stealing a look at Shiloh, I knew I would need to tell her soon. 

“Not even trying to hide your bias anymore, huh?” Taehyung jokes, a wicked grin on his face.

Flustered, I scoffed and ran a hand down my apron. Taehyung’s grin grew even wider and I turned my back to him. Jimin had not moved from his spot. Picking up the heavy pot, I carried it to the table and scooped bowls for the three of us. Jimin slowly made his way over and sat down. His eyes stayed trained on my face but I continued ignoring him. It would be nearly impossible to lie if he asked me what was the matter and I did not have the heart to tell him. We had never even discussed this part of my life and it would be difficult to explain.

“Stop being such a baby and eat.”

The three of us ate in relative silence. Taehyung still spoke and I engaged, but he knew something was off. Jimin did not utter a single word the entire time we sat there. My mind continued to wander and I hardly registered Shiloh’s voice telling me she was going out for the night. I appreciated her giving me the space I so desperately wanted. I finished first, cleaned off my plate, and locked myself in my room until sunset.

I had locked myself away for days before Jimin came knocking on my door. I did not want to leave my bed. I knew things were escalating, just as I knew I could do nothing to stop it, but the spirit’s voice never left my head. Things rested on my shoulder, things I had no control over or idea what they could be, and I would have to make a choice. A sacrifice. Head aching, I rolled over and closed my eyes. I wished I was alone with no one else here, but I could hear laughing and talking in the other room and knew that was not possible. 

I had been thinking of Sol a lot during this time. She had to be in agony in Foxglove, and though Taehyung tried his best to stay bright and positive, every now and then I could see his eyes gloss over. They could feel one another. After they bonded they would be able to speak without opening their mouths. It was an incredible thing, a wolf’s love, but it did nothing but rip my heart in two. I haven't felt this powerless in a long time. 

The knock was light, gentle, and Jimin was soft when he asked if he could come in. Perking my ears, I could hear nothing else in the cottage. Still, I did not open my mouth. I did not deserve Park Jimin’s condolences right now. In fact, I was not sure if I even wanted them. He spoke again and reassured me that we were alone, that Taehyung had gone out for a walk and Shiloh had gone with him. It would be just the two of us. Finally, after a few minutes of begging, I told him to come in.

I stayed wrapped up in my blankets with my back facing the door. I felt small and thoughts of Aldara kept invading my train of thought. Shiloh had always said I would live with what happened that night for the rest of my life but I never believed her. I was 13 and believed I knew the way the world worked, but in my grief I thought I would die from the pain and sorrow. Nothing felt right anymore and I did not know how to pick up the pieces. However, time heals most and I was able to get back to living. Now, I could tell her she was right. That unbridled pain was something I would never forget and it seems everything would lead back to it. Even now, the thought of Sol had Aldara’s face popping in my head. The bed dipped and a warm hand touched my shoulder. 

“I know something is bothering you,” Jimin started. “I won’t ask what or why it’s got you like this, but know I’m here for you.”

I said nothing. What was there to say? We were closer than we had been in days and yet he still felt so far away. Everybody did. I had stopped responding to Yoongi’s letters and had not even written Wendy telling her I was happy she was home. My world was at a standstill and I was the one who had to kick it back into orbit. The only problem was I had no idea how. What choice? What sacrifice?

“Birdie,” Jimin called. When I did not respond after a few minutes, he spoke again. “Y/N. Look at me.”

Unable to stop myself, I rolled over and faced him. I loved the way he said my name and I wanted him to say it again. Jimin looked as worried as I thought he would and his fingers came up to graze my swollen cheeks. Everything was going to fall apart soon and I hoped he would make it out of the carnage. A sacrifice…

Eyes widening, I quickly unwrapped my hand and placed it on his. He caressed my cheek and I allowed myself to lean into it. What if he would be my sacrifice? Would I have to let him go? In doing so would that save everyone? My eyes watered as I looked at his beautiful face and I found myself reaching out for him. If that would be what I had to do then I would make sure I held him for as long as I could.

Jimin reached me in the middle and hugged me tightly. Violent sobs wracked through my body and I held onto him for dear life. Sniffling, I leaned back and smashed our lips together. I needed to feel him all over me. Jimin kissed me back with the same passion and pressed me closer to him. My heart pounded and I ran my hands through his hair. Jimin held me by the nape of my neck and nibbled on my bottom lip.

Whimpering, I continued to cry and chase after him. If the world ended tomorrow then we only had tonight. With this single thought guiding me, my hands slid down his back and back up his front. My fingers twisted his shirt and yanked him forward. Jimin did not budge but laid me back down. Towering over me, he sucked my tongue into his mouth before kissing my chin and jawline. Shaking, I started to pull at the buttons on the shirt that I had made him. Jimin’s large hand engulfed mine. Stopping my movement, I looked up at him and was surprised to see concern. 

“We’re not doing that,” He said, voice husky and strained. “You’re far too upset.”

Opening my mouth to protest, I stopped when I realized he was right. I could still feel myself crying, the hole in my chest just as large as when he first walked in, and nothing was going to stop it. I was doing this in a rushed panic instead of love. Nodding, I buried my head in his neck and sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” My voice cracked.

“Don’t be,” He cooed, scooping me in his arms and laying beside me.

I was grateful to have him. He was everything I could ever want and more, and he proved once again why I loved him. Snuggling closer to him, I sighed in relief and let myself cry. Jimin whispered sweet nothings into the air and held me closely waiting for me to calm down. 

“I’m afraid,” I finally said.

“I know, amica,” He replied. “So am I.”

He did not understand what frightened me but I knew we were both scared, so did it really matter? The need to tell him was on the tip of my tongue but I kept my mouth shut. Every decision I made now would affect everyone and dragging Jimin into it would only further complicate matters. When the forest speaks to me, I listen. Something I never did as a child. Fresh tears came to my eyes and soaked through Jimin’s shirt.

“Tell me a story,” Jimin suddenly demanded.

Laughing, I rubbed my face and held him tighter. I was thankful he was trying to get my mind off things. Still, something in me told me I should tell him a particular story. A story that on one but Shiloh, Lilith, and myself knew. Sobering up, I got very quiet as I thought. Now was not a good time for that one. We were both in desperate need of a pick-me-up.

“You first,” I finally landed on. 

Jimin rarely talked about himself. He always said it was because there was not much to say but I found it hard to believe. Everyone had their own story and this was one that fascinated me the most. Fully expecting him to deflect, I began searching my own mind for a fun story to tell even if I was not in the mood for it.

“When I was around fifteen, or sixteen,” Jimin started. Caught off guard, I looked up at his face. From this angle, I could not see him very well but still kept my eyes on his chin and neck. “-I got into a fight with my little brother.”

I smiled, “What for?”

“He had told our mother that I had gotten into a fight. It was the truth, I had, indeed, fought with Hoseok that morning, but we agreed not to tell mom. Well, he had anyway. So, I got in trouble and ended up beating him up late that night while our mom was in bed.”

He paused and started again.

“I didn’t feel bad at the time but Jihyun did not speak to me much after that. He always avoided me and never liked to spend time with me. It took a few months but I finally realized that I had hurt his feelings, and he only spoke to our mom because she already knew. Hoseok’s older sister had gone to her furious about the whole thing.

“Still, I was too prideful to just apologize. I made up with Hoseok before my own brother,” Jimin stopped speaking and took a deep breath. It must be emotional to talk about his family right now. I rubbed gentle circles on his chest. “I thought we’d never be close again. Then, the moon festival started and Jihyun had told one of his friends that he was interested in a girl but no one really knew who it was. I found him later that night blindfolded and sitting by a large rock by the town gates. 

“We spoke for the first time in forever and he told me it was one of the human girls that lived on the farmland right outside of the village. I was surprised but then I thought of you and it was less strange. He’s the first person I ever told about you- the only person, in fact.”

“Where’s the fun part?” I whispered, enthralled.

Jimin’s brother knew about us? It was a strange thought but one that filled me with deep pleasure. I could only hope he had kept that information to himself during these trying times. Then again, if he were anything like his brother then it was not something I needed to worry about.

“I’m getting to that,” He laughed. “Well, after our talk I convinced him to take off the blindfold. It’s a tradition that boys wear a blindfold and wait for the girls to find them. I never did it and told him if he knew he liked someone then it was pointless. We snuck off to the farms to find the girl he liked. He knew exactly which house was hers and we threw rocks at her window to get her attention.

“She wasn’t really prepared to see us standing there. After a lot of convincing, we managed to talk her into sneaking out with us to enjoy the festival. I’d never seen Jihyun like that before and I knew they would get together in the end. After that night, my brother and I were closer than before and I helped our mother except Callisto after my brother’s present ceremony. They’re good together and our family is large and happy.”

Jimin turned to his side and gazed down at me. His eyes looked lighter today and it brought me joy. I could hear Taehyung’s loud voice beginning to approach the cottage and smiled despite myself. That boy was something else.

“I know my family will love you no matter what. My brother and his wife will fight for us, as will my mother, and my friends. Hoseok would rip Foxglove apart if he thought you were in trouble. You are loved, little bird. We will make it through this- together.”

Sealing his promise with a kiss, I found it easier to breathe again. I would not sacrifice him for the world. Lilith would never ask that of me and neither would the forest. I had been too good to it for it to treat me that way. Still, the warnings of the wind stuck with me. If it was not Jimin it would be somebody else. That thought alone kept my smile from reaching my eyes as the guilt coursing through me made it nearly impossible to meet his soft gaze.

Taglist: @greezenini​ @adventures-in-bookland​ @kthstrawberryshortcake-main​ @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin​ @yamekomz @chimthicc​

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission 

[nichenarratives]

Frozen Hearts 2

A Vikdecai Miniseries, by Niche Narratives.

Part 1 can be read here.

2. Chilled

The walk has been grueling; even the fluffy orange cat can feel the chill through his thick fur and sweater, fingertips icy where they peek from fingerless gloves. A thin layer of snow speckles his fur and where his breaths condense in the cool air, small icicles have begun to form on his whiskers, bowing the long appendages down under their weight, as frost licks at small ears folded flat to his head for protection.

Not to mention the cargo weighing him down, pressing him into the snow drifts and putting extra strain on his knees and back. Breath misting, Viktor glances down at the limp form in his arms. Mordecai remains unresponsive, unaware of a blanket of white flecks caking his facial features. The bobcat does his best to brush them off again and adjusts his hold to press the smaller male's into his chest, studying his face as he tries to keep it free of more snow.

The wound on his temple has frosted over, the coagulated blood a pale pink hue beneath an icy crust. Unnervingly pale lips are a whitish-blue, and his inner ears have faded to a peach rather than vibrant pink. Were it not for the shallow breaths misting between them, or the heartbeat weakly pulsing in his wrists, Viktor would assume he was already dead.

One man missteps and falls bodily into a thick snowdrift, his carved wooden cane clattering to the cobbles, distinguished top hat flying off and rolling towards the gutter. Barely a beat passes before laughter erupts so hearty and loud, a familiar face emerges from the Cafe to shush them, her thick, lined fur coat pulled tight around her small frame. 

As he reaches the Little Daisy Cafe's block, small ears rise at the unmistakable sound of quiet, intoxicated giggles and a slow stumbling of tipsy bodies. Despite his knee's complaints, Viktor picks up his pace, turning the last corner with a minor limp. He pauses below a neighbouring awning and watches the flappers and their dates stumble down the few steps to the street with little grace, bathed in a soft yellow light emanating from within the cafe.

"Quiet," she reminds them, glancing up and down the street. It's then she spots Viktor and she blinks, obviously confused by his presence. A swift glance down to his arms seems to be enough to clue her in of his emergency though, and she turns back to the Cafe as the man in the snowdrift rolls into his back with a quiet chuckle. "Zib, assist poor Mister Gail to his feet, will you? We wouldn't want the patrols to find him drunk and disorderly outside our doors."

"Yeah, yeah," the musician responds in a more level tone, then steps out into the street in little more than a shirt and slacks, bare claws clacking on the steps and cobbles. He pauses to move a lit cigarette from his mouth to behind an ear before reaching down for Mr Gail, grunting with effort as the skinny man hauls an arm over his shoulder. "C'mon, up ya get." He glances to the nearest giggling flapper. "Get his cane, would ya, Miss? He's gonna need it."

"I've got him, old sport," one of the other men states, hauling the chuckling man off of Zib and into his own shoulder. With a soft giggle and the lost top hat situated on her head, the flapper hands the more sober man his friend's cane. With that, the group can finally turn their backs on the speakeasy and begin their slow trek home through the snow. "There you go, lad," the man's voice sounds muffled after they've been engulfed by the white sheets of falling snow. "We'll have you home in no time."

Straggling patrons finally gone, Mitzi silently waves Viktor forwards. Zib doesn't notice the bobcat until he pauses on the stairs to drag on his cigarette, extracting it from behind an ear and following her gaze as he puffs. The bundle in the Slovak's arms brings a frown to dry lips. "What ya got there, Vinegar?" He asks through a mouthful of smoke, the heat in his maw potent out in the cold. "Find a stray or somethin'?"

Atlas' penchant for picking up strays - and its effect on those around him beginning to do the same - is an inside joke at the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. The comment draws a chuckle from both musician and host before Viktor steps into the light, whereupon all humour swiftly drains from their faces. "Ah, shit," Zib mutters under his breath, gaze swiftly moving to Mitzi's own worried frown. "You want me to call Quack?"

"Please," the pampered feline whispers, gaze never leaving the prone tom's impassive face. "And wake Atlas. He'll want to know what's happened." Zib makes a sour face - the boss isn't one to enjoy being awoken except for emergencies and with no context to offer, Zib will probably get the brunt of his irritation - but the musician nods and heads inside dutifully, the ding of a bell over the door deafening in the silent night. 

Wide eyes stay on Mordecai a moment longer before she finally meets Viktor's gaze, then motions for him to follow as she pushes the door open with another lonely ding, this time holding it open so the bobcat can get inside unencumbered. Once they're in however, the questions flow thick and fast while Viktor carries the tuxedo through to the back, where a fire still hums within hot embers.

"What did happen, Viktor?" She asks now, clutching her furs more out of anxiety than chill in the warm kitchen, olive eyes flicking between the unconscious triggerman and the muscle. A restless energy builds within her when Viktor doesn't reply, instead focusing on placing the tuxedo on the rug before the hearth and rebuilding the fire with kindling. She strokes the delicate pearls around her neck anxiously. "You're supposed to be on a pick-up in Defiance, not here in St Louis."

Finished stacking kindling carefully utop hot coals, Viktor retrieves the bellows and huffs air into the base of the fire, encouraging the dying embers to light the dry fuel above. His ignorance and her concern creating a fiery anger in her, Mitzi raises her voice now, though the shake within belies her worry. "Don't ignore me, Mr Vasko. You might work for my husband, but I have every right to know what you're-"

"Vho gave him keys?" The bobcat finally asks, not looking at the irate woman, focused on the fire. He puffs the bellows again to ensure the flames catch before turning his head to look at her, single eye furrowed deeply in a dark socket. "He does not touch; he find me, I return for car. Then, ve go. He crash car tonight. So I ask; vho gave Metzger car keys?"

"I-I don't know," Mitzi admits, quelled by the unexpectedly equal anger sent back her way. Viktor growls softly before he returns his gaze to the fire, poking the embers with the tip of the bellows. Mordecai remains motionless beside him, the snow and ice on his face melting swiftly into dark fur. "He needs a towel," she observes, not sure if it will actually be useful but in desperate need of something to do, latches into it. "I'll… go find some towels."

"Boil vater, also," the Slavok instructs her without looking up. Mitzi might be the wife of his employer, but she rarely stuck around to see the worst parts of the job; the blood, broken bones, the ragged stitches from an overpriced horse doctor. She needs guidance, which Victor will willingly give to save his business partner's life. "Doctor always vant hot vater vith no-septic. For clean vound."

No-septic? She whispers to herself, hesitating behind Viktor as he feeds the fire small pieces of wood, encouraging the smoking coals back to an actual flame. While Mitzi doesn't know what he means, she's also nervous to ask; he's upset, and as far as the pampered woman knows, that's when the bobcat gets dangerous. She's not seen him angry, but both his bulk and deep frowns suggest his anger isn't something to underestimate, nor something she wants to provoke.

"Yes, alright. Towels, hot water and… no-septic," she eventually agrees, despite being none the wiser, and first heads for the linen closet to procure the towels, leaving her husband's employees alone in front of the hearth.

Viktor doesn't answer. Focusing his anger into doing rather than ruminating, the fact she's gone doesn't sink in until the fire has returned to a full, crackling flame and the kitchen is lit with its hazy orange hue. Only then does he look back at his charge, and his frown unconsciously softens seeing the tom in renewed light; the palour of his inner ears worryingly in the fire's glow, his lips still too pale and breaths too shallow to be healthy, even if he's still alive.

Disregarding his injuries, Mordecai looks peaceful for once in his life; the bobcat has never seen him relaxed or even asleep before. Without the severe expression, he looks far too young to have a dozen lives on his conscience, merely a child masquerading as a contract killer. Viktor realises then he knows almost nothing about this man, not even his age, a fact in itself that makes him frown more deeply.

A comrade should never die unknown; a life should mean something, no matter where fate takes it.

"Quack's on his way," comes a smooth voice from the door. The Slovak raises his gaze to find Zib lounging against the doorframe, the stub of his last cigarette smoldering between his lips. The musician looks more tired than usual, even as he drapes his lean body against the wooden frame like he's modeling for an artist and jabs a thumb towards the hall. "I figure you'd do better walking up the boss, since you got a rapport an' all, Vinegar. I'll watch him while you're gone."

Viktor has no idea how he always looks simultaneously put together yet entirely disheveled, but Zib has a point; while he and the band have worked with Atlas for longer, with his wife being Zib's ex-lover and lead singer, it led to the pair not having the best relationship. On the other hand Viktor, held in high regard for his skills and loyalties, is more likely to get a good reception. 

The hulking Slavok grunts as he pulls himself to his feet with the fireplace. "Keep him varm," he instructs without looking away from Mordecai. "If start to shiver, is vaking up. Make sveet tea to sip." 

Acknowledging his duty being over and at last able to think about something else, Viktor becomes very suddenly aware of how hot he is. He pauses to reach over his shoulder and yanks off his sweater, tossing it aside while striding for the door. Zib flattens himself to the frame so the mechanic can pass, a nod of the head all the communication required to ensure he heard and will do his best.

"You got it," he still assures as Viktor heads down the corridor towards Atlas' apartment, then exhales harshly and looks to their accountant turned trigger man. Seeing the confident man in such a vulnerable state is disconcerting, but Zib sits beside the unconscious tuxedo and leans back, eyes on the fire rather than the uncertain fate at his side. "An' I got you, Mordy. So no dyin' on me, okay? It'll make me look bad."

Mordecai doesn't reply, but a slight shudder and a deeper inhale are reassuring enough that Zib gets to work boiling water for tea. English breakfast, he decides with a grimace, packing the leaf strainer right with the bitter blend. His favourite. That outta fix 'im up.

[rejectclone]

Here’s some super rough bust doodles of my interpretations of the S4! 🍛🌺☢️💀

See below for like some brief explanations for each minor change, since honestly I’m content with how they appear in the manga buuuuuut of course I had to add some minor design changes that are relevant to some of my fav design tropes lol 🦑

🍛 ARMY 🔫

- He is the shortest in terms of height and bodily proportions in the entire S4, yet he’s also somehow the most ‘angular’ in a odd way. Short ears, yet they’re upturned and pointed, large pointy eyebrows but they’re very wide, the only one with a slightly smaller head yet a more pointy chin, smaller tentacles but with a more pronounced pointed tip, etc.

- His eye black grease/face paint is a bit more loose, to further show that he’s loosed up a BIT over the years, and is no longer that meticulous about applying it. He still wears it 24/7 though, even to sleep!

- Out of the entire S4, his skin is somehow the most clean with barely any indication of scars on it, as he takes healing any of his turfing injuries very seriously. Because of this, he is considered to have a baby face (much to his dismay, as he WANTS to look intimidating) even though the rest of his body is actually CUT and toned, due to him having a rigorous daily training routine (based upon the drill routines that were used during the Great Turf War….. he is REALLY into studying war history/LARPing as a Great Turf War solider lol)

🌺 ALOHA 🌊

- Average in terms of height with no real stand out features to his appearance, other than his ears being slightly longer and thinner, and his eyebrows being very thin as well. He does have some freckles that go across his face and neck/top half of his chest, and some that go down the back of his shoulders.

- Even though he spends such a excessive amount of time outdoors, and thus he should have a pretty dark tan, he applies sunblock HEAVILY. He still has a bit of a minor farmer’s tan when taking his namesake’s shirt off, but you honestly really can’t tell the difference.

- As a avid surfer, he is quite physically fit as well, but his muscle definition isn’t that developed. He’s got more of a slight ‘washboard’ physique (basically he DOES have abs, but they’re still kinda flush against the flat smoothness of his stomach/chest, and are not that pronounced), and thus he relies more on his bombastic personality to catch the attention of others than relying on his pseudo-pretty boy appearance.

☢️ MASK 👾

- CHRONICALLY ILL 24/7. The near-permeant case of hay fever he has is quite visible in regard to it’s impact on his appearance and body. Pale skin, massive and dark eye bags, bleary eyes, droopy ears, sagging tentacles, and of course the near-constant string of runny snot/translucent ink that dribbles out of his nose. He wears a gas mask for a reason, as it’s really the only excessively effective piece of gear on the market that can protect him from some common allergens.

- His skin tone is visibly more pale due to his illness, to the point where his body’s ink is actually visible THROUGH his skin. It appears as slightly blurry patches of turquoise ink, popping up pretty much anywhere across his body, and they come and go often. All of his body’s skin is quite thin, thus making this possible. In a way, this made piercing his ears with gauges easier to do, although he did bleed pretty badly….. for a short moment thankfully.

- Due to his illness, he tends to slouch constantly, but if told to stand fully upright, he actually QUITE TALL. The second tallest out of the entire S4, but of course this isn’t that noticeable due to his slouching and also how long and disheveled his clothing tends to be as well (minus his gas mask, which is in very pristine condition!). His thin and lanky body physique does lend well in battle shockingly enough, as he can swim in ink MUCH FASTER without the need of any swim speed up abilities on his gear, as it’s more or less a naturally latent ability to him.

💀 SKULL 🍭

- You thought Mask had some pretty prominent facial features? Well, Skull is akin to Mask, in terms of also being chronically ill, but with a WHOLE other condition that is a more….. Intense. He wears his infamous bandanna for a reason, mainly to cover up his gargantuan beak overbite. His eyemask is MUCH more darker and larger, the iconic lack of eyebrows and instead having a pronounced brow, the two rings in his eyes, his constantly standing-up tentacles (that also have some small sharp teeth in them…. hmm….), and some weird deep purple birth marks that streak across his entire backside of his body, all the way up to his neck….. Plus the fact that he towers over the rest of the S4 and MOST of the entire inkfish population is notable too. Plus he’s ripped, just utterly blowing Army and Aloha’s physiques out of the water.

- When taking off his bandanna, he immediately starts to sweat profusely, as he really, REALLY loathes exposing his entire face to pretty much anyone. Only Aviators, Vinatge, Mask, and Goggles (in that order) have seen his entire face when unobscured, and Goggles seeing his face was more or less a fluke, during their rematch.

- While he is actually kinda against body modification (due to already being deeply disturbed by his own) he still got two small piercings on his left ear, in a way to further push the public perception of him being a very intense and terrifying captain, as it does gives him a slight psychological advantage against weaker enemy teams in Turf War. He used to cover up his purple birthmarks with concealer, but after realizing how much of a tedious pain it was to apply it Every Single Day on his entire backside, he began to lie on how it’s a massive abstract styled tattoo. He did this to further push the ‘scary, badass, no-survivors Captain’ aura that had been applied to him by the eyes of the public. While he knows that he isn’t that cruel or mean in reality, he does lean on this misconception a lot, to get his way though anything.

[whirling-fangs]

☁ receiver has been in a coma for months and finally wakes up in the presence of sender //from his sis<3

‘𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃’ // accepting!!

Sensations came to Inosuke through a thick blur. His own body felt foreign to him, as if his very blood had grown thicker, slowing down every single of his bodily functions. He tried to twitch his fingers, but could only get them to tremble against the soft bedsheets.

Where was he? Was this a human bed? Did someone find him in the mountains and drag him there?

No... no, he wasn't in the mountains anymore. Fresher memories came to him in fragments, winces tugging at his features. He remembered the demon, the slayers... the pain. The poison.

His chest gave a sudden throb. Panic welled up inside his core, only to fall flat again right after. He was safe now, right? There was no weapon stabbing through his chest, mere millimeters from his heart.

As he regained his bearings, Inosuke could take a better look at his surroundings. He was in a human bed, but not one of the thin flat ones. This was a bed for sick people.

His gaze fell upon a silhouette. Inosuke did a double-take – he didn't even notice a human there! Her breathing was rather quiet, after all. She seemed to be fast asleep, her head lolling to the side. The pink-green haired lady... how long had she been waiting there? Was she going to take him on a training session next?

Inosuke tried to speak up, but his throat was too parched. He noticed a cup of water by the bed, and gingerly reached out to it, only to realize that his arm was tied to something. Several tubes sunk into his skin. Distracted, his fingers still too weak, Inosuke failed to grab the cup, and accidentally pushed it towards the ground.

Splash.

[burning-fcols]

「 ☆ 」 They've crossed a threshold they can't take back, years of a relationship changed in one emotionally-charged moment. Complicated as it was, now it's thrown into FURTHER disarray, Autumn painfully aware that he'll never be able to interact with Rusty the same way again. Yet even this foreboding truth can't stop him from desperately clinging to his best friend, wanton moans muffled against Rusty's as their mouths feverishly clash. As if scared this would be the only chance.

It HAS to be. Autumn can't do this again. He shouldn't be doing this AT ALL.

He can hear it. FEEL it. How badly the other male wants— has wanted him too. Transfixed by the sensation of such pure, unfettered longing, Autumn doesn't realize Rusty has spoken at first once they've pulled away for much-needed air. Mind hazed as bodily instincts take the reins— knowing damn well he'd retreat if common sense played a part in any of this —Rusty's smart-ass statement miraculously reaches his ears, fluffy appendages indignantly falling flat as the deer huffs, ❝ I don't recall saying THAT. ❞ Autumn's patronizing tone grievously undermined by the scarlet blush overtaking his delicate features.

❛ Love ❜ That's an unexpected word... one Autumn isn't ready to face. Isn't sure he even wants to be. An impulsive, thoughtless hook-up is one thing. His body urging him onward with shameless depravity. Founded in festering feelings but not expectations of anything to COME from them... But saying he loves Rusty ( even if it was only suggested in a taunt ) risks a vulnerability the deer can't afford. Not for someone like Rusty. Not when the only reason things escalated this far is because the canine didn't like sharing him with someone willing to be seen in public.

Fleeing from the fears weighing upon his chest by surrendering to another breath-stealing kiss, Autumn growls against Rusty's lips, ❝ This... is a one-time thing. ❞ Words yet again betrayed by how hastily he shrugs off his jacket as he speaks, the symbol of Aiden's affection is unceremoniously thrown to the side without so much as a glance. Autumn then tugging off his shirt, seeing it as the next obvious step, revealing his binder underneath. This seems to snap the deer back to his senses, breath stalling as it becomes vividly clear that should he remove the garment... Rusty would be the first to see him in THIS context.

Unashamed of his chest in theory ( he must admit, it's nice to look at when in the comfort of privacy ) but wearing a binder to dissuade cruel comments and because he prefers to be flat-chested when in public, it's still daunting to think of Rusty being given ACESS to his body. What if he doesn't like it? Only one way to find out. Shakily, hands pull down the zipper. Gaze focused downward, he quickly slips it off with a shuddering exhale akin to ripping off a bandage, soft and sensitive chest fluff flowing with the action. Autumn's heart deafeningly pounds as he fights to keep his breathing steady. Keep his body from trembling.

Questioningly he looks at Rusty, wondering if the other's streak of boldness will continue now that it's clear Autumn has made his choice. 「 ☆ 」

Rusty was not at all thinking about the consequences of his actions. How him pretty much barfing up his soul would change things between them. How kissing him like this would change the dynamic of their relationship. He really didn't care about any of that at the moment. All he cared about was pure satisfaction. Getting what he wanted and what he wanted was autumn.

This was all his precious boyfriend's fault in the dog's eyes. So he didn't really fault the deer too much for ditching him. He was pissed off sure but most of his pain and anger was directed at the panther in question. So he was willing to let autumn off the hook for the most part but he did get a bit of satisfaction from that guilty expression on his face.

The canine decided to instead focus on these new exciting sensations rather than on the messy aftermath that would ensue once they were finished here. Kissing his best friend felt good. Felt right and he wasn't exactly pushing him away either. Holy fucking shit he was actually being kissed back. He had a feeling the teen felt the same way he did. He was just too much of a pussy to admit it.

Rusty having to make the first mood made a lot of sense in the grand scheme of things. Even if he was a total closet case he had complete confidence when it was just the two of them alone in rusty's room. Especially since his parents would be out all night. He made sure of that.

The grip he had on the taller male was possessive. His kissing rough but extremely passionate. Showing his lust and want for autumn on full display. Desperate moans breathed against his lips before he dove his tongue inside his mouth. Taking complete dominance over the sloppy exchange. While it was the messy sort of kiss it held behind it years of longing. Of wanting.

Expressing just how badly he wanted this. How badly he wanted the deer. More than pleased at autumn's eagerness. Panting a bit once they separated for air. Chuckling at the boy's comment. "Yeah but that's why you love me." He taunted before grabbing him again by the jacket. Pulling him into another deep passionate sloppy kiss. Pretty much taking the air out of his lungs. Arms wrapped around his neck before slowly dragging down his chest. Tugging at his jacket. Urging him to take it off.

[fillinforlater]

FEAR----

Male Reader x Huh Yunjin (ft. Chaewon)

Length: 2420 words

Tags: con-non-con kink, change in pov, piss kink, water sports, public sex, choking, gagging, a kinky robbery, humiliation, crying, name calling, missionary, messy make-out, all the bodily fluids, roleplay, dacryphilia maybe, misattribution-of-arousal-kink!Yunjin

TW: cnc kink, water sports (pee), (role)playing with fear

Inspiration: ffs, I have no clue why my brain comes up with these. Maybe I'm just insane? Or stupid? Or too horny for my own good?

(A/N: yeah, I think I will have to take a break after this. Something very different will come up next, but I still need time to write it lol, so please be patient. For those that love these kinks, you're welcome, I won't write them (especially water sports) often.)

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Chaewon’s quiet, tender whisper is calming like a cool breeze in blazing summer heat. It takes you out of your short trance, which you spent gazing at the ring on her finger. You look into her concerned eyes, then towards her blonde friend at the bar. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you set down the untouched cocktail.

"You know I like the idea," you start your rant, hoping it removes the uncertainty burdening your heart, "and I know you're completely fine with it. But the more I look at her—I just don't know if she knows what she really wants. You get me?"

"I think I do. Hmm,” Chaewon ponders for a second, caressing your palm, "Look, how about we ask her right now."

She turns around and with a wave of her hand she gets her friend's attention. The young woman quickly walks over, a bright, beautiful smile on her features. She stops next to your wife and straightens her postures when she looks at you. Before she can greet you, Chaewon whispers a long message into her ear. It makes her face sweaty and redder with each word.

"So," Chaewon loudly announces at the end of her explanation,"what are you thinking, Yunjin."

"I—"

Yunjin locks eyes with you. Her hands fidget, her upper body tenses up and her breath responds to her increased heartbeat. You can almost see the small muscle in her chest throb. She hesitates, even with Chaewon's reassuring smile and strokes on her back. Before you can speak up however, Yunjin's firm answer catches you by surprise:

"I still want it. I don't know what else to say, but I really want this and I don't care about the dangers."

"Alright," you respond blankly, though slightly in awe of Yunjin's clarity, "I appreciate your trust."

#

It's way past midnight when Yunjin leaves the area around the well-lit HYBE building to walk home. Dark, narrow corridors in between cold, lifeless concrete buildings are her choice, as she is eager to get to her flat quickly. Yunjin will always sacrifice a bit of lighting for effective short cuts. With her cell phone as a flashlight in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other, she confidently finds her way in this now well-known maze.

At night, she doesn't have to be extra careful about someone noticing her or the song she hums. An unreleased track, self-composed, with lyrics that have meaning to her and the other bandmates. At night, Yunjin is free to sing those words and feel a bit of burden fall from her shoulders.

A gentle breeze makes her blonde hair sway off of her shoulder and the loose jacket flies along with it. Yunjin has to stop in her tracks to adjust the leather garment. It's this time of the year where it's warm enough at night that you don't really need any extra clothes. However, each cold wind reminds Yunjin that it's good to have something on her. She can't allow herself to get sick.

It's also the time of the year where almost every night sky is littered with dazzling stars that dance on their designated spot, billions of miles away. It's a spectacle, each and every single one of them, so similar yet so different. The human eye cannot escape from this beauty, and Yunjin is no different. She stands there, star struck, the white lights dancing on her irises like it’s the parquet of a musical. Yunjin hums the melody to their performance. 

The bushes behind her rustle once. A dark figure shots out from behind them like a lightning bolt. Yunjin gasps and quickly looks behind her shoulder to see a black ski mask right in her face. Her ensuing scream is muted by a cloth forced into her mouth. She tries to escape, but the person is just too fast. Yunjin is grabbed at the top of her dress and forcefully shoved into a nearby wall.

“Money?” the figure asks in a cold, rough tone. Yunjin tenses up when she feels freezing metal run up her exposed thigh. Her eyes tremble in fear, even more so her legs. She is only held upright by the man's hand and his leg trapping her in between dead concrete and death personified. 

The man tears on Yunjin’s dress and groans angrily. Yunjin is too scared to test his patience, so she shakes her head. Her lips lose all their moisture to the cloth in her mouth, but maybe it’s just traveling to her eyes, to her sweat glands and down low.  

“Not even in that bag? Not even at home?” the man continues to ask. He guides the metal object further up, right to Yunjin’s core. A few swipes on her bundle of nerves make the young woman burst out into tears. It’s certainly not a knife that he is holding. The death bringing object right on her most private part makes her flinch, head shaking rapidly. 

The man grabs her face roughly. It’s like a slap he stopped as soon as he felt her skin. It reassures that the cloth won’t fall out of her mouth. The man groans once again. With small kicks against her shoes he forces Yunjin’s feet further apart. He then leans in right next to her ear.

“I know that you know what this is,” he whispers and presses his gun against Yunjin’s pussy, she wails, “and if you don’t tell me where the fuck I can get my money—tell me, or else.”

The flow of Yunjin’s tears is like an endless waterfall. Her hands are pleaing, begging, showing that she has nothing. No possession at hand, no money, maybe the bag is worth something, but the man does not seem interested in that. He wraps one hand around her gentle, fragile throat and slowly pulls out the gun from underneath her dress. She can look right into the barrel. There is a bullet waiting at the back, her name on it. 

This is it. Everything inside her is building up to this moment. Her body reacts the only way it can, the only way it knows how to, the only way she wants to. Instead of the bullet hitting her, the man shoves his knee in between her legs and pushes up. Yunjin screams against the gag, her fingers dig into her attackers back as she starts to pee violently. The clear stream immediately soaks her thin white panties, then runs down her pale, goosebump covered legs and begins to soak her shoes and his pants. The dark spot seems invisible on his dark pants, but he definitely feels and hears Yunjin’s eruption. 

“Bitch, what the—how dare you!” 

The man pulls out his knee and closely watches as the last sprays of Yunjin’s pee cover the dry asphalt below. He doesn’t even notice the gag falling out of Yunjin’s mouth as she makes no attempts to scream for help. She feels like all her dignity is stripped from her and sobs uncontrollably. Snot and salt water with small hints of make-up mess up her beautiful face, but she doesn’t cover it up. She still holds on to the back of this cruel stranger.

“Bitch, you are crazy.”

“Pl-please d-don’t ki-kill me.”

“Shut up,” he snarls and presses his gun against her panties again, “slowly take them off, or else..”

Yunjin’s throat is dry. Her sobs begin to sound like croaks as she leans down and grabs the wet lingerie. In the most embarrassing performance of her lifetime, she drags down her panties, feeling her own clear, barely gold liquid on her skin. She steps out with one leg, then the other, and both times the man kneads her thighs for a short time. Another breeze flies through her hair, but this time she only notices it because of the freezing touch on her wet core.

“Wring it out. With one hand, right onto the street.”

Yunjin closes her eyes as she closes her fist around her panties. They worked like a sponge and now all of her piss shoots out of the gaps in her hand. She is mortified by how the warm liquid feels on her hand. 

“Fuck, you’re insane,” the man says with awe and amusement and grabs Yunjin’s hair. He yanks her across the street, into the bushes where he came from. Behind them is a small patch of grass, where Yunjin is forced to lay down and spread her legs. She whimpers ‘no, no’ repeatedly, but the threat of the gun is right there, in his hand. Now it’s next to her head as he opens his zipper. 

“Pl-please don’t,” she whispers and her fist forms tighter. It draws even more pee from her panties.

“What’s your name?” the man coldly responds, fishing out his hard cock. 

“Yunjin.”

“Do you want to die, Yunjin.”

“No, please, no!”

“Then shut up—and do it again.”

Yunjin has no idea what he meant by this last statement. However, when he shoves his entire, surprisingly large cock inside her hot cunt, she doesn’t even remember it anymore. To pee in front of a stranger was pure horror, but this takes it to another level. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, not even the fear of death would have stopped her from screaming at this feeling. Pain, pain that feels great, fantastic, orgasmic even. Yunjin’s head begins to spin and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Hng, fuck,” the man groans and leans down to Yunjin’s face, “Yunjin, you’re fucking pretty. Great to have met you.”

A sinister laugh as he begins to bite the skin on her cheek and then on her shoulder. It’s not enough to leave marks, but definitely enough for Yunjin to feel something other than the cock hammering her pussy. It’s enormous size and width stretch her out more than any of her toys did before. Her flailing legs begin to go numb.

Suddenly, the man pushes his lip-sealing fingers into her mouth. He plays with her tongue, while hitting just the right spot inside her over and over. As she yelps, Yunjin comes to a shocking realization. The water on her face is not just tears, but also drools from the heavy pounding. Her mind becomes blank every now and then. It feels insane, better than anything she tried before. Something is building up in her lower regions and this filthy criminal gets her filthy pussy closer to another release. 

“Do it again, Yunjin,” he huffs into her face while retrieving his fingers from her mouth again— “I know you’re a kinky slut. Do it, or else.” —and wraps them around her delicate throat. Simultaneously, he begins to make out with her drooling mouth and press down on her throat. Yunjin screams into his mouth. Her body has given up. It’s completely resigned to him, but her mind is tormented by the inevitable. 

He hits the right spot, and her bladder is still so full. No, she can’t let it happen. She’d rather die and drown in her own spit and snot. It’s so humiliating, so bad, but at the same, her dopamine level has never been this high, it’s good. It will happen, it will happen, he just needs to tip her over, please tip me over.

“Or else. Now.”

The moment he stops fucking her tight cunt, Yunjin starts to piss again. A violent, clear stream erupts from her and she waters the grass and bushes around her like a gardening hose. Her hips buckle up, but she doesn’t feel his manhood anymore. She opens her teary eyes and sees the man's cockhead above her abdomen, unloading his warm, sticky semen all over the dress. 

Gooey white and runny light-yellow still shoot out of their bodies, but the two are entangled in a sloppy kiss with no care for the mess they are making on each other and the grass below. This might be someone’s property and they will surely notice. Not that Yunjin really cares, as her tongue is thoroughly sucked on and her limbs feel numb from the pleasure filled violation.

Suddenly, he reaches for the pee-soaked panties in her firm grasp. He guides her pale legs together and forces the undergarment up to her still twitching pussy. Yunjin gasps at the sensation of stained, wet clothing forced upon her. She loves how he continues to rub his thumb on her now covered clit and stares at her face, stupid from his attack. 

“Kinky slut. Now fuck off. No cleaning until your home. Or else.”

#

Quiet. Not a single sound. You’re able to close the door behind you without it creaking. Your wife will probably be asleep by now, but you want to make sure it stays that way. Carefully remove your shoes and sneak over the smooth tiles into the living room. Absolute silence. She is not here. Search in the kitchen, just a light humming of the refrigerator. There is no sound a human would make, until you reach the stairs. 

Wet squelching and soft moans. They get louder with every step you take upwards. You decide to leave the mask on and move faster, still careful to not stir up attention. The sounds of self-satisfaction come from the playroom. Take a look inside and there she is.

Chaewon sits on the couch, panties around her ankles. Three of her fingers slowly move in and out of her pussy as she rubs her clit in circles. She throws her head back against the rest and the moonlight gives you a perfect view of her pleasure ridden face and closed eyes. The squelching gets louder and in between moans, Chaewon forms a clear sentence.

“Yes, fuck her like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Three quick steps and you’re right in front of the half-naked Chaewon. She pulls her fingers out in shock but you replace the emptiness of her hole with yours immediately after. Chaewon gasps as you lean closer to her and pump slowly.

“My wife is a kinky bitch.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“No, you shut up. Keep imagining it. 

How I fuck your friend as she cries and screams. The way her body trembles while you look from the bushes. The way my cock pierces her pussy until she starts to pee all over herself.”

“Fuck!” Chaewon screams out and her body begins to shake.

“You like that? Then cum for me, Chaewon. 

Or else.”

[timextoxhajima]

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[stiltonbasket]

[soulmate au! prompt] Lan Wangjis reaction to hearing his soulmate laugh for the first time in 16+ years after wwx is resurrected

“Wangji! Wangji, wake up, look at your Huan-da--daifu, what’s the matter with him?”

His brother was beside him, shouting into Lan Wangji’s ears while the thick, cloying scent of battle gore seeped into his nose; but for once in his nineteen years, Lan Wangji could not find the strength to answer him. His spirit was nothing but an open wound, forever rent in two by the blow of his zhiyin’s demise--and no matter how desperately Lan Xichen called, the anguish in his voice could not match the bone-deep torment of Lan Wangji’s frayed bond, slashed to ribbons and cast asunder like a tattered war-flag left to unravel in the wind.

“Come away from him,” he hears one of the healers cry. “His soulmate is dead, Zewu-jun--it will be a wonder if he knows you at all until the shock is over!”

But the shock never faded, not entirely; and when Wei Ying reappeared at the Yiling courier station three months later, Lan Wangji cleaved to him heart and soul, almost as if he were the lost beloved whose name Lan Wangji would never have the chance to know.

__

When the part of his heart that once belonged to his mingding zhiren awakes for the first time in twenty years, Lan Wangji is certain he imagined it. After all, he felt his soulmate’s death as if their life was a little beating heart, being torn bodily out of his flesh so that he would perish in his absence; but he had lived on after that, and often imagined that he could feel his soulmate’s laughter despite the gaping void in the bond they left behind.

But when the laughter rings out again--insistent, wild, desperate like Lan Wangji would have been, if he ever had the chance to welcome a beloved newly returned from the grave--he leaps out of the tea-serving stall where he meant to wait for Sizhui and Jingyi (Jiang-zongzhu has already gone ahead, so determined to see his nephew win the hunt that he refuses to let the child lead his disciples on his own) and rushes up the mountain, neither knowing nor caring where he goes as he goes somewhere.

It can’t be, he thinks wildly, suddenly remembering the battlefield in Heijian where he felt his soulmate die. That feeling cannot be mistaken, not like this, and it has been half my lifetime since--

And then, as if today’s revelations have no limit whatsoever, he hears a warped, broken strain of music warbling out of a flute.

That is a terrible musician, is Lan Wangji’s first thought.

That is Wangxian, is the next.

Almost before he knows it, Lan Wangji reaches a flat, dusty turning in the road, and freezes at the sight of a thin young man standing there, playing his heart’s song on a crude bamboo dizi as if the melody had been written for him, and drawing Wen Ning away from the rest of the crowd. Lan Wangji is rooted to the spot, unable to think or move or breathe as Wen Ning leaps away amid the chaos, jumping straight past Jiang Wanyin--and Jiang Wanyin gives chase, letting out a roaring bellow and charging into the trees with the Jiang disciples at his heels, and then the man playing the flute falls to his knees and weeps.

But he is laughing through his tears, sucking in air and expelling it again as if he fears that he might suffocate, and Lan Wangji watches as his son and nephew run to his side, helping him lift his head while Jingyi fumbles in his qiankun bag for a bottle of water.

“He really is a lunatic!” Jingyi cries, clearly panicking: he most strongly resembles his Nie xiao-shushu in moments of crisis, especially when the crises involve ghosts or unquiet spirits. “Is it safe to make him drink water, Yuan-ge? Will he choke?”

“Gongzi,” Lan Sizhui says urgently, patting the man’s hand as Lan Wangji finally musters up the strength to move towards them. “Gongzi, did Jiang-zongzhu frighten you? You don’t have to worry about him, all right? You saved all our lives at Mo Manor last night, and we wouldn’t make you go with him anyway--you haven’t done any harm, even if you do cultivate the dark path!”

Cultivate the dark path--

Lan Wangji’s head is swimming. On the ground about six paces in front of him, the young man seems to be working himself up into a frenzy, letting out shouts of manic, high-pitched laughter and sobbing at the same time, and his eyes--a curious shade of grey, which Lan Wangji has only ever seen on a single beloved person--are fixed upon Sizhui’s, drinking in his every feature like a man guzzling water after nearly dying of thirst.

Wangxian.

Zhiji.

Lan Sizhui, who was first his beloved’s child before he became theirs, A-Yuan--

Vaguely, he wonders if his own heart, still registering the joy of his fated beloved after over two decades of silence, could possibly have stopped beating.

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Wangji says: loudly, and clearly, making the man crumpled in the dust shake from head to foot. “Hold Mo-gongzi upright for a moment, so I can lift him. We will bring him back to Gusu.”

Wei Ying--for this unfamiliar-looking Mo-gongzi can only be Wei Ying, to play Wangxian so earnestly and nearly cry himself sick at the knowledge that A-Yuan is alive and well--gives a little gasp in Sizhui’s arms, tearing his gaze away from him and staring at Lan Wangji, and then he makes a small, hurt sound and faints dead away onto Jingyi’s lap.

“Shufu!” Lan Jingyi howls, completely forgetting that Hanguang-jun is the correct honorific to use in public, even for him; and looking ready to faint himself, unless Lan Wangji intervenes. “Uncle, I think he’s dead!”

A sharp pang goes through his chest. “Do not say such things, A-Yi,” Lan Wangji scolds gently, rushing to Sizhui’s side and lifting Wei Ying into his embrace. “Look, he is still breathing. Now, round up your classmates and follow me. We are leaving.”

When Sizhui and Jingyi finally turn away (casting several glances over their shoulders as they go, as if afraid that their mysterious savior from Mo Manor really might die by the time they get back) Lan Wangji waits for the rogue cultivators to clear out, and then he bows his head over Wei Ying’s and cries.

You came back, he sobs to himself, taking Wei Ying’s cold hands in his and pressing them to his lips. Wei Ying--you came back to me!

[love-and-monsters]

Unicorn Centaur

M centaur X F reader, 5, 091 words

In this story, you work as a hired guard for a centaur lord. Your job is to get him to the stronghold with his horn still attached- no matter how annoying he is. 

You hooked your knife back into your belt and pulled on the thick, metal-reinforced plate that covered and reinforced your chest. It was a pity you were no longer going to be staying in a nice bed, but the money you would be getting for this escort mission would supply you with a nice bed for weeks to come.

Dressed in the royal blue uniform you’d been presented with, you headed outside of the inn to look at your charge.

You’d heard you were escorting one of the young lords- he was the oldest son of one of the local lords and primed to take over his father’s land when the old man died. Being a lord, and therefore, pretty rich, wasn’t the only reason you had been charged to escort him.

The elderberry lords were an unusual kind of centaur. Most centaurs looked like standard horses from the waist down, and completely normal humans from the waist up. But these lords were an unusual sort: unicorn centaurs.

Aside from the long, spiral horn in the center of their foreheads, unicorn centaurs had more delicate bodies and long tails that were tufted in hair. Their fur was typically white, though black, gray, and brown unicorns also existed. It was always oddly shiny, almost pearlescent, and startlingly beautiful.

Unicorn horns were rumored to have magic potential. Extreme healing powers and all that. So, whenever the unicorn centaurs traveled outside of their well-protected homeland, they hired bodyguards to ward off anyone who wanted to cut their horns from their heads, killing them in the process.

The sound of hooves alerted you to the approach of the procession. You watched as they approached. Two of them were standard centaurs, with brown fur and black hair. One of them trailed a thoroughbred after them, presumably for you. And in the middle of them was a pure white centaur. His tufted tail flicked and waved behind him, his shiny hooves gleaming against the dull dirt road. His head was under a veil, held away from his face by his long horn. Veiling was a common practice among unicorn centaurs. It was old, coming from a time when servants would wear sticks and veils on their heads so bandits couldn’t tell those with horns from those without. Nowadays, it was less common, but most unicorn centaurs were a little haughty and hid their faces regardless.

You approached them with a stiff back, arms held ramrod at your sides. “I stand ready for defense,” you said.

The lord turned his head to you. The white veil obscured his expression, but you knew he was looking at you. “A human guard,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Yes, sir,” you said. Human guards were standard for centaurs, if only because they were much less obvious and could employ guerilla tactics. But that didn’t mean the lords were going to stop being sniffy about it.

“Hmph,” he said, turning his head away from you. One of the other centaurs offered the reins of the horse to you and you swung up onto its back.

“We’re heading for the Vastran Stronghold,” one of the centaur guards said. “It’s a week-long journey. You’ll be paid upon arrival.” You nodded, shifting the reins in your hands. Paid upon arrival was standard for guards as well. It ensured that if you failed, you didn’t get paid.

You set off down the trail at a steady pace. The lord was slightly ahead of you, walking at a steady pace. You shifted impatiently in your saddle. It was going to take longer than a week if he kept up his slow pace. He was barely moving faster than a walk. Then again, you thought, the veil likely made it difficult to see.

For hours, you rode on and on. The sun was hot and your hands kept slipping on the reins. Your rear ached from the stiff saddle. Luckily, it was easy to stay on guard. The trail was in the midst of a field, which made any approaching enemies easy to see.

By the time the sun was setting, you had made it into the forest. It was a mixed blessing. It was far easier to hide in a forest, but the same was true for any adversaries. And it was more difficult for centaurs to move in the forest. The lord was better at it than many others you’d met. His slender frame made it a little easier for him to pick his way out around the trees.

You stopped sometime after the sun had set. Setting up the tent was a hassle. It was large and irritatingly fancy, and you had an easier time getting close to the ground and fiddling with knots and pegs. By the time the tent was up, you were exhausted.

Of course, the tent was only for the lord. You had a sleeping bag, and that was good enough for you. Not that you used it much. You spent about half the night patrolling, looking for adversaries.

The woods got thicker the deeper you went. The next day, even the lord was starting to have trouble traversing it. You eventually hopped off your horse and took to guiding it over the logs and leaf litter. Luckily, the trees provided some shade from the merciless sun.

Resetting the tent that night was difficult. The ground just wasn’t flat enough. Eventually, you managed to set everything up and collapsed into your sleeping bag.

You were roused by one of the other guards near midnight and set up for your shift. Blinking sleep from your eyes you settled next to the tent’s doorway.

You hadn’t been expecting to see the lord during your shift. It was late and you thought he’d been sleeping. However, shortly after your shift started, you heard something shift in the tent. You glanced over in time to see the lord emerging.

It was the first time you’d seen him without a veil. His face was pretty, with delicate, smooth features, long lashed eyes, and smooth, full lips. A long, pearlescent horn spiraled from the center of his forehead. He stepped delicately from the tent, heading toward the edge of the camp.

“Hold on!” You stood and followed him. He looked back at you, his full lips curling into a sneer. “Where are you going?”

He shifted his weight, snorting. “Where do you think?” His long tail shifted, slapping at his flanks. “Need I tell you of my every bodily function?”

“I do need to accompany you, sir,” you said. His eyes narrowed and he gave a horse-like snort.

“You’re a woman,” he said. His tone was derisive enough to make you bristle.

“Indeed. I’m glad you’ve managed to notice. That doesn’t change the fact that I am your guard and I need to keep watch over you.”

“I will be gone for five minutes. I won’t be far away,” he said.

You sighed. “I understand that you’re embarrassed. But trust me, assassins don’t have a sense of honor and they will not hesitate to kill you at any opportunity. Even if you’re pissing.”

It might have been a trick of the firelight, but you could have sworn the lord’s face was turning red. “Fine,” he snapped. He turned and trotted into the woods. You followed from a short distance.

You did keep your back to him while he did his business, keeping your ears out for any other motion. Finally, he stomped out of the bushes, refusing to look at you, and headed back to camp. Whatever. You didn’t need to talk. You just needed to protect him.

There was an uncomfortable tension between the lord and you the next day. He kept his nose firmly in the air as you helped take down the tent and glared at you from under his veil when you started moving. Fortunately, being a guard meant that you had dealt with far worse things than a cranky lord. You ignored him, picking your way easily through the woods.

It was obvious that he was getting tired of traveling, too. He toyed uncomfortably with his veil, snapped at his centaur guards when they tried to pick up the pace, and started stumbling over the little bits of detritus on the trail. It slowed your pace considerably and you heard the other guards grumbling about it when you stopped for the night.

It was your turn to bring the lord dinner that night, so you gathered up his fancy meal (well, fancy for something you were eating on the road) and brought it into his tent.

He was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, reaching for his hooves. There were little cuts around them, probably from all the tripping he’d been doing. You cleared your throat, setting his meal on the ground near him.

“Are you all right?” you asked. He snorted, glaring at you.

“I’m fine.” He tucked his hooves back underneath his body. “It’s none of your concern.”

“If you say so,” you said. You headed back for the tent entrance, then hesitated. The cuts were small, not serious at all, but they looked like the sort that would sting and itch irritatingly. “I have some salve that might help those, if you’d like me to-”

He cut you off with a piercing glare. “I don’t want nor do I need any of your ridiculous human medicines. And I’m not allowing you to smear any of your foul-smelling gunk on my hooves. Just give me my dinner and go.”

 Anger boiled, threatened to overspill. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. Getting into a shouting match with your employer was a bad idea, no matter how much you wanted to do it. “As you wish, sir.” You spoke through your teeth. He snorted and flicked his tail, but said nothing else. Stiffly, you turned and left the tent.

Fortunately, you didn’t need to speak with him much after that. You slept for most of the night and broke down the tent in the morning. Then you were off again, the lord veiled and walking a little in front of you.

The forest was growing less thick, but that was only making you more nervous. This was the most dangerous part of your journey. There was a town only a few hour’s gallop away and it had a port. If someone wanted to grab the lord’s horn and take off, this would be the best part of the journey to do it during.

If the lord was stressed, he didn’t seem to be showing it. He was even slower than usual and got even sniffier than usual when one of you tried to prod him along. By the time you were ready to stop, you were exhausted just from dealing with his constant complaining.

“Can’t you put that up any faster?” he whined as you started setting up the tent. You ground your teeth. “There are bugs out here! They keep biting me!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” you said. It was growing more and more difficult to not yell at him. You swore you could feel one of your blood vessels getting ready to burst.

“Then your fastest is incredibly slow!” Good lord, his voice was annoying. There was a slightly nasal quality that you hadn’t initially noticed, but which was becoming more and more apparent with every word he spoke.

Cramming all of your frustration away into a back corner of your mind, you finished up the last of the pegs and stood. “It’s done,” you said, adding a sarcastic, “your highness,” in an undertone.

He snorted and stalked into the tent. You leaned back on the ground, trying to calm yourself back down.

“Hey.” You looked up. One of the other guards was leaning over you, giving you a patient look. “Sorry about him.”

You huffed. “I’ve dealt with worse. I think.”

The guard chuckled. “He’s not easy to deal with, I know. Take a break, why don’t you? I can cover your shift if you’d like.”

You hesitated. “You sure? I didn’t take a guard shift last night.”

“It’s fine. Really, you’ve done enough today.” He waved his hand dismissively. You shrugged.

“Sure. Okay.” You know what? You weren’t going to argue. You were going to get some goddamn sleep.

At least, that was the plan. The instant you lay down, though, your head was buzzing. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired. You were. Your body wanted more than anything to fall asleep. But your brain was insistent that you could not.

You tossed and turned. Tried to find even a slightly comfortable spot on the ground. Counted to one hundred, counted back down. Did some meditative breathing. Every time you started to slip toward unconsciousness, your brain would send out alert signals that made you jolt upright out of bed.

After what felt like years, but was actually only an hour, you got up. Clearly, you were not going to sleep. Your instincts were picking up that something was wrong. Might as well trust them.

The other two centaur guards were outside the tent. You positioned yourself a little closer to them, still somewhat hidden in the trees. You didn’t want to bother them, and maybe if you were a little closer to the lord, you’d be relaxed enough to fall asleep.

One of the centaur guards shifted his weight. He was swaying a little on his hooves. The other centaur guard glanced over just in time to see the first guard slump over, landing in a heap on the ground.

Your chest clenched. Automatically, you stood, ready to go help. But the other centaur guard just glanced down at him briefly, then, with an unhurried, uncaring gait, he stepped into the tent.

Alarm bells rang through your head. You plunged out from the tree line, heading right for the tent. The collapsed guard was left on the ground. You felt bad, but if he was fine, he was fine, and if he wasn’t, there was probably nothing you could do. Your first priority was getting to the lord.

You tore through the front flap of the tent. The false guard was standing over the lord, gripping his horn in a single hand. The lord had clearly just been woken up and he was staring at the guard with dawning horror.

No time to think. No time to plan. You lunged. One hand went to the blade you kept strapped to your hip, the other went out, to seize the centaur’s shoulder.

He barely had time to turn toward you. Your knife hit the side of his throat. There was always more resistance when stabbing people than most thought. You really needed to have some commitment behind it. You had plenty. The knife ripped through his neck in a spray of blood.

He choked. His legs wobbled. The hand holding his knife slackened and fell. You seized him and wrenched him to one side, so he didn’t collapse onto the lord. Blood pooled underneath him as he twitched on the ground, the last vestiges of life draining from him.

The lord made a sort of strangled choking noise. You glanced at him. His legs were awkwardly splayed, hands up toward his face. His eyes were huge and horrified. “You- he-”

Okay. First things first. You stepped over the body and held out your unbloodied hand. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you.”

The lord responded much stronger than you thought he would. He grabbed at your hand with both of his, clinging to it with some desperation. “He tried to kill me. He tried to kill me!”

“I know. Come on. Get up.” You gave a gentle tug. He staggered to his hooves. Thankfully he seemed pretty malleable, willing to go in whatever direction you pushed him. You would never have been able to move him if he’d gone slack.

“Where are we going?” he asked. His eyes remained on the corpse no matter where you moved him.

“I can’t move the body on my own. So, unless you want to stay here with it, we’ll need to go outside.” He picked up some speed, scrambling out of the tent. His hooves skidded a little in his haste and you had to brace yourself to support him.

You settled him down by the fire, wrapping blankets around him. He trembled constantly, eyes locked on you as you knelt next to the unconscious guard.

“Is he dead?” the lord asked. You shook your head.

“He’s unconscious. I think the other guard drugged him. That’s probably why he told me to get some sleep. If I’d been asleep, he would have been able to cut off your horn and escape before anyone was the wiser.” You glanced back at the lord. His trembling had increased. “Er. Sorry.” You walked back over to the fire and sat next to him. “When the other guard wakes up, we’ll move the body, get rid of the tent, and keep going.”

The lord shifted his weight. “Thank you for saving me.” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the soft crackling of the fire.

“It’s my job,” you said. After a moment, you added, “but you’re welcome.”

           There was silence for a few moments. “What’s your name?” the lord asked.

“Kara.” The lord extended his hand toward you. You moved to shake it, but he took your hand instead and lifted it to his lips. There was a long, breathless moment as his soft lips brushed the skin of your hand.

“Lord Julien Sorrelito. A pleasure.” His voice was warm. You assumed that the tone as was practiced as the words.

Your leg was starting to sting. Without the adrenaline, you were starting to feel the injuries you’d acquired. There was a nasty slash on your calf where the false guard’s serrated knife had caught you as it fell. You probed at it and hissed.

“You’re hurt.” The lord’s voice was surprised and concerned.

“I know. I’ll grab some bandages from my things.” The lord reached up and caught your hand as you started to move away.

“Wait a moment.” He said it with a sigh, like he was annoyed about what he was going to tell you. “Sit down.” You did so, stretching your leg out awkwardly to prevent the wound from pressing into the dirt. Julien shook his hair back and arched his neck. His horn pointed down at your leg. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

There was a glimmer around his horn. The light concentrated itself and flowed away from his horn and down to your leg. There was a sharp tingling feeling around the cut, then your skin rippled. It flowed like a liquid, covering the cut entirely. When the tingling faded, there was no more pain. Your leg was whole.

“You’re kidding,” you said. “You can actually heal?”

“You didn’t think people just made that sort of thing up, did you?” Julien snorted. “We can heal small wounds when they’re still attached. If they’re removed and ground, they can cure illness and poisonings.” He glanced at you. “But don’t tell anyone. We try to keep as quiet as we can.”

“I won’t. You’re paying me well enough for my silence.” Julien nodded, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted. After a moment, his head swayed down, ending up on your shoulder. You stayed still. Gradually, he slipped into a deep sleep.

As it turned out, he drooled in his sleep. It would have been pretty funny if he hadn’t been doing it on your shoulder.

By morning, the other guard was up, albeit with a headache. The two of your cleared out the tent and broke it down. Julien watched, looking dazed. The sun was well over the horizon by the time you were ready to move again. “We’ll need to be fast today,” the guard said. “He’ll probably have had allies who are waiting for him to return. They might come after us.”

 Julien seemed much more willing to pick up the pace. He and the guard hurried through the woods, moving at a steady trot. You were much slower. Humans couldn’t move as fast as centaurs at the best of times, and whatever he’d done to your leg last night had really stiffened up the muscle. It was a struggle to keep up.

By midday, you were falling significantly behind. Julien kept pausing to look around at you, face still hidden by his veil.

“Look,” you said. “I can’t keep up. I can fall back a little, see if I can catch up with you later. I’ll engage if I see more poachers.”

Julien’s tail flicked back and forth. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“A bit, I suppose. But what else am I supposed to do? I can’t keep up the pace we need to maintain.”

Julien let out a sigh that made his veil flutter. “You can get on my back.”

There was a long pause. You were pretty sure you’d misheard. “Get on your…?”

“Yes,” he said testily. “Get on. I can probably carry you and it’ll let you keep up with us.”

Most centaurs had complexes about people riding on them, and unicorn centaurs especially so. The guard stared at him incredulously. You stared at him incredulously. “Ah, sir,” the guard cut in. “I could carry her instead.”

Even through the veil, Julien’s glare was obvious. “No,” he said. “I’ll carry her. If you need to fight, you’ll do better at it without someone on your back. And if she’s close to me, she can defend me better.”

The guard looked at you and gave a helpless shrug. Julien bent close to the ground and gave you an expectant look. Hesitantly, you climbed up onto his back. His coat was surprisingly soft and silky, despite being quite short. Julien clambered back to his hooves with a sniff. “Shall we continue?”

He kept up the pace surprisingly well for carrying a whole person on his back. You kept shifting your position, trying to find a good place to put your hands. They ended up at the junction between his torso and horse body. It was a little awkward, but he didn’t say anything. Every now and then, he would press one of his hands to yours, shifting your position to a better one. The touch was always unexpected and it always put your heart in your throat.

You were a little saddle-sore by the time you set up camp again. Without your slow human pace dragging down the speed, you were actually ahead of schedule. It would be your last night on the road. By sundown the next day, you would be at the stronghold.

The guard started patrolling and you brought in dinner for the lord. He was staring at the stained patch of floor where the body had been. Options for cleaning were limited on the road, and attempting to splash the tent with river water hadn’t done as much as you’d hoped.

“Your meal, sir,” you said, offering him the tray. He took it from you, blinking like he was coming out a of a daze.

“Wait,” he said as you turned to leave. “Stay.”

You sat down with him and he offered you a chunk of bread. “I feel that I didn’t properly thank you for yesterday,” he said.

“It’s just my job. Money is payment enough,” you said.

Julien sighed. “I haven’t been terribly good to you,” he said.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” you said. Julien frowned at you.

“I am attempting to apologize,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked during this trip. I thought I would be safe with my own two guards and I was annoyed that there was a human coming along.” He lifted his gaze to yours. “If I hadn’t brought you, I would be dead.”

You weren’t really used to such sincerity just for doing your job. His gaze was surprisingly intense. “Thank you for your apology.”

He nodded, shoulders slumping with relief. “It was quite impressive, the way you took him down.”

“Lots of training,” you said. “I’m sure I could teach you. Self-defense lessons would be quite useful for you.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I suppose I never expected a beautiful woman to be so skilled at fighting.

You snorted. “Perhaps you should expand your horizons.”

“Only if you’re willing to help me,” Julien said. You blinked at him. Was he flirting? The tone of voice seemed right. Were you supposed to flirt back?

The moment stretched on a little too long, making it into an awkward silence. Julien cleared his throat, shifting his hooves. “If you’d like to spend the night here, I wouldn’t mind.”

You blinked at him. “Really?”

“Well, if you hadn’t been there last night, I would have died. Keeping you with me seems to be a wise move.” He smiled, brushing a lock of white hair away from his face. “And I would imagine it’s more comfortable in there than it is outside.”

“It is,” you agreed. “All right. If you don’t mind.”

You settled down to sleep, pulling your sleeping bag in around you. Julien was lying on his mat, chin dipped to touch his chest. In sleep, he looked like a statue. The peaceful expression of his face, the delicate way his lashes touched his cheeks, the soft, full curve of his lips. He looked like a very lifelike statue. It was surprisingly hard to take your eyes off him.

You didn’t actually end up sleeping in the tent for very long. About midway through the night, you were woken up and took a guard shift. Julien shuffled out of the tent a little after sunrise, yawning and stretching.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Had to take my shift,” you said.

“You could have stayed and slept. I would have allowed it.” He folded his legs down to sit next to you.

“No. That would have been irresponsible. I’m not going to just let the other guard stand all night because I want a nap.”

Julien lowered his head a little, staring at the ground. “You’re committed to your job.”

“I’m committed to doing a good job. It’s what I’m paid to do. It’s what my reputation is built upon.” You spoke steadily and carefully.

“It’s admirable,” Julien said. “I… admire it.” He got back to his hooves. “Breakfast first, then we should get going, I think?”

You nodded and stood, brushing your hands off. “I’ll get it started.”

Breakfast was hurried. All of you were eager to get back on the road and make it to the stronghold. Luckily, you had enough of a head start that you didn’t need to ride on Julien’s back this time. He trotted carefully next to you the entire time, peeking at you from under his veil.

By the end of the day, the stronghold loomed in front of you. Julien strutted ahead, showing off his horn and papers of lordship and was ushered in with the usual level of respect and groveling. You were ushered off to the small, cozy rooms used for temporary guests. Your payment was handed over and you promptly collapsed into bed, ready to sleep for at least a full day.

Unfortunately, you had barely been out for an hour before someone came knocking at your door. “His Lordship wants to see you,” the messenger told you. Grumbling, you marched to Julien’s room and stepped inside.

“There you are,” he said when you stepped inside. He looked startlingly pretty when he was well taken care of. His hair looked even softer and his white coat seemed to glow. “I expect they’ve made you comfortable here?”

“I would be more comfortable if I could get some rest,” you said. He was not technically your employer any longer, so you could afford to be snarky. Julien’s tail flicked and he glanced at the floor.

“Then I apologize for interrupting you,” he said. “But I had a proposal I thought you would be interested in.”

“Which is?” you said a little testily. Julien stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his body heat.

“You have shown me that I have a great lack of physical fighting skill. And… perhaps my worldview could stand some more expanding. So, I would like to offer you a job. You would train me. Teach me of the world. I think it would be beneficial for both of us.” He smiled, long lashes fluttering. “And I find you admirable and interesting. I would like to spend more time with you.”

You lifted your chin, peering up into his face. There was something a little arrogant in his expression, but also something hopeful, and something wanting. He really wanted you to work with him. A smile teased at your mouth. Hm. That felt nice. To be wanted.

“I suppose I need to stay with you until you get better at self-defense. As you said, without me, you’d certainly be dead.”

Julien grinned. “That’s a yes, then?”

You smiled back, all teeth. “It’s a yes.”

                                           Three Months Later

Your blade clashed with Julien’s. He sprang back and you pushed your advantage. Even after months of working together, he still startled from the impact.

Julien’s hooves skittered across the ground as he backed away. He swung his sword wildly, barely clanging with yours. Sensing weakness, you darted in.

You realized he’d set you up a second too late. Julien dodged your strike and used his superior weight to press you up against the wall. His sword swung up to your throat, tickling your skin.

“Ha!” he said. “My win!”

“Congratulations,” you said. You leaned against the blade, so the tickling became a sting. “Would you like your prize?”

His lips met yours eagerly. You kissed him back until your felt his blade slip from your throat. In a single motion, you knocked it away and lifted your own sword to his neck.

“I didn’t say I yielded,” you said, grinning viciously.  Julien lifted his hands, pouting.

“No fair! You just didn’t say it with words.” 

You snorted. “All’s fair in love and war.”

Julien laughed low in his throat. “And which one is this?” You pressed your sword a little harder against his throat and he sighed. “And I yield!”

You dropped the blade and moved in. “Bit of both, really.” This time, the kiss had the sweet taste of victory.