#having an entire life story slammed into your head. sure it may be your life's technically but the boy that went through it is dead

[martyrbat]

The Hellbound Heart – Clive Barker

[TEXT ID: Appalled, he shut his eyes. But there was more inside than out; memories whose violence shook him to the verge of senselessness. He sucked his mother's milk, and choked; felt his sibling's arms around him (a fight, was it, or a brotherly embrace? Either way, it suffocated). And more; so much more. A short lifetime of sensations, all writ in a perfect hand upon his cortex, and breaking him with their insistence that they be remembered.]

[redcherrykook]

──── ⊱ ☆ ⊰ Evidence of a criminal bond- part one

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

enemies to lovers at the detectives office

Jeon Jungkook has been your annoying coworker at the detective´s office for what feels like ages. What happens when he gets assigned as your partner against crime for seouls´s ongoing case of the masked serial killer? Will a vulcano and a tornado manage to find peace in each others chaos, while trying to catch the person responsible for the horror unleashed upon the nation?

content warning: please keep in mind this au revolves around the job as a criminal detective, therefore dealing with darker topics, including sensitive topics such as SA, m^rder, assault, robbery, blackmail, sex work, trauma, therapy.

A large portion of this work is fiction, while some aspects also have valid foundations in actual crime cases as well as psychologically related crime studies and research

further content: slow burn, angst, misunderstandings, comfort, eventual smut, trying to work it out for each other, a lot of plot/work focus, side characters such as officer Kim Namjoon and criminal psychologist Park Jimin, good ending

no taglist! - sorry for misspellings and typos!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

6:53 am

Static buzzing sounds around the entire office, a hasty jog through the chattered people and with a slam of your big leather bag to your slightly decorated desk, finally, you arrive at work.

the ordinary, bustling with people in cool blazers and coffes, couple cops and a large story board cluttered with red marker and pictures, at least that's what the countless shows make it out to be,

it wasn't like that in real life

While, surely, there are an array of different people having serious conversations, while there may the occasional cop visit, this whole, rushed overly analyzed office doesn't come close to your neat workspace.

Days mostly consist of reading through the piles upon piles of boring paperwork left by your superiors and attorneys, or investigating some string of robberies that are operated by biker gangs,

Some prostitution rings disguised as karaoke bars or massage parlors,

Nothing like a serial killer, no nothing even close has hit your very own, very organized desk in the span of your bloomed carreer

In fact, seoul hasn't seen an unpleasant visitor like that in 30 long years, three full decades

Wind rushes through the heated room as a window opens down the hall, most likely in an effort to flush out the stress that spans throughout the people- yesterdays events have left the investigation sleepless, having seen the on scene cops and crime scene investigators while passing through the door,

It was fairly easy to tell who it was,

a souless, empty glaze clouds their colorful irises- dark, deep circles making it clear that these people were there when it happened

"What the fuck did you do Hwang?"

your head shoots up, locking eyes with someone you did not wish to see right when starting your shift- with the entire department working on a serial killer case, irritated and occupied with following a majority baseless leads- the last thing you need is him.

"Thats quite the different tone from yesterday Jeon"

he scoffs, cocking his head while pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his darkwash jeans

"Yeah? Well i called you and-" he sighs, "Explicitly told you not to take the case didn't I?" you nod, irritated at his obvious anger that you knew you had absolutely no business in,

you didn't take the case, hell, you had just arrived at the office

"look, it's too early to blame your issues on me-"

"Blame?" the disbelief in his tone messes with your already risen cortisol, only deepening the wrinkles of your frown, probably prolonging the sprouting of grey hair on your scalp.

"Hwang? Jeon? You already received the order?"

The monotone voice of your superior, also known as chief, makes both of your heads turn to face him in all his pale, 6'2" middle aged glory, the suddeness creating a small Oasis of peace between the two of you, stopping your petty argument for a bit

You had now wished that this blatant, confusing misunderstanding will be easily dissolved,

"There must have been a mix up" he states, his face curling into the typical shit eating grin that is etched into his features, like clockwork, it always appeared whenever he thought he was in the right.

the bubble of hope bursts in a split second, stabbed in full force

"As partners?" you blurt out, eyes practically bulging from your skull, the absurd implication of being Jungkook's partner makes your chief sigh, nodding his head in something you can only label disappointment

"Yes. I deem both of you as highly qualified, young individuals. i'm sure i don't need to remind you how serious this is" the chief explains, the same monotone voice now sounding like a cruel joke, however the lack of sleep and evident annoyance plastered on his face doesn't allow room for further complications

As expected, it earns him a shake from Jungkook's head, looking down and taking a breath to prepare himself to complain,

You were faster,

"We will do it. Thank you chief"

your heartbeat hammers in your chest, almost making you feel sick,

It isn't solely that now, you're being responsible for this huge nation wide case,

As abstract and insignificant as it may sound, alongside that, you're facing the difficult task of working with detective Jeon

"I am relying on your ability to stay professional and not let your personal fuedes get in the way" chief gestures his fingers between the two of you, resting his droopy eyes half lidded on yours, haunted by the Terrors of the previous night as he strides off,

Looking over to you newly aquired partner, he looks back at you with a clenched jaw, meeting your tranquill gaze as he speaks,

"Unbelieveable"

11:23 pm

You find out that working with him is in fact, difficult.

15 long hours had passed since your mangled, conjoined mess of what can be roughly considered as partnership had started,

This would have been hundretfold less hair pulling without the countless complains and microagressions,

"Can you move? I can't read this"

you huff, pushing the rolling chair further to the side of your desk, creating even more of a chasm beetween your two bodies,

This reffering to the monster of a case file that had ben handed to you- consisting of every possible report, witness statement, newspaper, autopsy report, possible subject you name it,

it was there- written somwhere in the horribly unorganized pile of paperwork

It slumps down your heavy shoulders, weight down by the hope and responsibility over the country,

"I can't get a read on this bastard" he utters, shutting his eyes. The same frustration that courses through your veins also shows on him and the way he rubs his forhead with his large hands,

The issue is, surprisingly there is nothing in this everything,

"Me neither. The witness statements all contradict themselves and there isn't anything helpful in the other reports" he watches you erratically reorganize the papers for the hundreth time, humming in agreement,

While you had been sitting at this bitingly cold, empty office for the past 15 hours, analyzing every line- reading between them, speculating upon the relevancy of each syllable, on duty officers are being chased around the city like headless chicken, led by baseless tips that somehow- always end up in sheer nothingness.

Nonetheless, you had read every word, soaked up ever piece of Informationen like a greedy sponge without a filter,

Jungkook is on his third cup of coffee, stratically pacing his caffeine intake to maximise his ability to stay awake,

"The department that had this case before us were nutjobs" he says, making you let out a small laugh, a rare occasion which cuts through tension and inevitable irritation that corresponds with this unexpected partnership

A long sigh of desperation follows as you recall what you have managed to gather in the past 15 hours, recalling the possible profiling there is to make on your killer,

Witnesses all contradict each other apart from stating that the victims had been in contact with an ominous man previous to their deaths caused by the rivers ghost- that man presumably being him

"All we have is his patterns. Women, all dismembered and thrown in the river" you tell him, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest,

he nods, granting you a look,

"Very throughly dismembered it says in the autopsies, clean cuts at the right spots. That sick creep must be a surgeon or something" jungkook adds, swiping through his hair

"Yeah, or a butcher" you agree, retracting your mind to the details of the killings. There had been no traces of dna found any where on the crime scene, no hair, fingerprints even scraps of clothes- something rarely seen in murders no matter how premeditated- even if the perpetrator had worn gloves, leaving without a speck is practically impossible,

how does he do it?

Aditionally, by how meticulously dismembered the body parts were, it transmitts the notion that the killer must be experienced,

"Possibly cumpulsions? He's uncharactaristically clean" your question makes jungkook think for a second, contemplating, "i figured. But that usually implies a history of mental illness"

"Yeah, and that narrows it down if he's on file"

you pause, "We should look into that"

He hums before turning the bright screen of your pc torwards him, guiding the mouse along the pad,

"The only reliable witnisses we have are the on scene cops. Let me write a email for an interview" he whispers, prominently groaning as you pry the mouse away from his hands, rolling your eyes at him

"Let me write it, it's my pc" your voice falls into a lower grumble,

"Oh okay miss, didn't know i couldn't use your pc, partner" jungkooks lips turn into a mocking grin, you lamely tell him to shut up

he pushes himself away from the desk, sliding the rolling chair back as he releases himself from the suffocating shakles of a long shift,

"I'm leaving. Another hour of this and i'm going insane" as he puts on his thick black coat, the dim light above you flickers, without a further note, his presence leaving subsides, resulting to your solitude inside the four walls of the eceptionally empty, staticly buzzing office

Your fingers type away at the keyboard, the blue, bright light eliciting from the screen strains your exhausted eyes with all their might, in the email directed towards your loyal friends and helpers, you´re practically begging them for an interview the following day

As you finally press send, your face crashes down into your hands- fingers rubbing the crumbled remains of what once was your mascara into your skin, highlighting the lack of rest you so clearly suffer from

With the obnoxiously loud sound of heels clicking on the floor and the shutting of the floor hall doors, the department falls entirely empty,

gushes of frosting wind hit your skin upon your exit already inhaling the smoke from your freshly lit cigarette, you attempt to make the trainride home to pass in the blink of an eye by disassociating into thought, thoughts that expectedly, revolve around what you had spend the past hours of existance with,

It felt surreal, that he must be out here right when you are as well,

In the same city, inhaling the same polluted air

"This stupid woman"

Jungkook pulls into his usual spot down at the apartment block, the tall lights shining a oddly comforting, yellow glimmer on his street

His hands slam on the steering wheel, blowing out air from his puckered lips as his head falls back- final relief, while simultaneously, dreading to be back at work in a meer time of 7 hours

Reverting back to the thought of you, he curses underneath his slightly labored breath,

he doesn't hate you- at least that what he tells himself, in all rationality, his unfounded fascination with your patheticly annoying "i can do it all" attitude is precisely that, unfounded

The keys jingle between his rough fingers, revealing his dark apartment, before a very hungry- playful Doberman greets him with a jump and about a million licks to his hands,

"heeyy bam.. you hungry bro?" Bam barks and Jungkook giggles in return, throwing his coat onto the hanger while the dog strides happily torwards the empty food bowl

On the other side of town, a siren blares- red, blue lights reflect on your fogged up kitchen window as the vehicle speeds down the road,

both of you silently prayed that it wouldn't be his fault once again

[fluentmoviequoter]

We're Getting Married Now?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader

Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.

Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?

Word Count: 4.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hello?” you greet. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains. 

“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”

“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”

“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”

“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word. 

“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”

The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands. 

“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“

“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call. 

Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking. 

“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car. 

She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)

As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea. 

“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly. 

“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”

“This weekend.”

“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”

Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”

“I don’t do weddings.”

“Aaron, please,” you plead.

“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”

You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited. 

“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan. 

“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”

“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”

Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it. 

Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”

“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt. 

“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”

Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side. 

“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks. 

“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested. 

“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”

“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”

“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”

“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”

“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”

“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”

“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”

“I don’t want to go…”

“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”

You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”

“When do we leave?”

“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”

“Two days before? Why?”

“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”

Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”

“And I… will apologize in advance.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family. 

Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family. 

“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks. 

“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”

Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking. 

“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“

“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”

“I can never repay you for this.”

“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests. 

“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch. 

“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”

“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”

Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”

“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear. 

“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit. 

“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”

“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”

You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back. 

“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly. 

“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair. 

“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him. 

“You needed a date.”

You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes. 

“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“

“I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”

Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands. 

“You look stunning.”

“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”

“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself. 

“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”

Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”

“How long have you been together?” someone inquires. 

“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”

“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”

“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her. 

You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist. 

“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”

“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”

“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”

You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”

“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”

“No problem.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again. 

“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable. 

Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”

“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed. 

“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly. 

“Is she really here?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”

Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.

“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.

“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“

“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”

“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”

Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.

As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.

“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”

“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.

When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.

“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”

“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“You could model the dresses.”

“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.

“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”

“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”

Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.

“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.

“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”

“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”

“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”

Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.

“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.

“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.

“If we find something unexpected, what then?”

“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”

Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”

“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“

“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.

Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”

“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”

“You like being cuddled.”

“Never say that aloud again.”

You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.

“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.

“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”

“Wow. You should have been a detective.”

“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nerd.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Dorothy.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”

“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.

“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.

You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.

“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”

“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.

“What do you want to do when this is over?”

“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.

“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.

“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.

Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.

“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.

“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.

“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”

Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”

“But-“

“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”

“How does it feel?” you whisper.

“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”

“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”

“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”

Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.

“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”

“I’d like that too.”

Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.

“Can I-“ Tim begins.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.

Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.

“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.

“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.

Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”

Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”

“Open the door,” Tim demands.

“No.”

“I will kick it down. You know I can.”

You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.

“You look…”

“I know.”

“Perfect.”

Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”

 “I feel good, really good.”

“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”

“About?”

“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”

Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.

“I love you,” you say against his suit.

Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.

Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.

“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.

“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.

“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.

Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”

“I love you, Tim Bradford.”

“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”

“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”

“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“That part is up to you, I think.”

You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.

“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”

Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.

“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?”

Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.

[phoward89]

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: In the Corso penthouse things escalate quickly between you and Coriolanus in the moonlight bedroom. Is this change for the better or worse?

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Smut, Fingering (f receiving), Oral (m receiving), Degration. Slapping.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 3:

You were taken back by how large the penthouse was as Coriolanus guided you thru the front door. Even with only the silver-white light of the moon, you could see that the entrance foyer was larger than your front room back in your wooden shack of a house in 12. You couldn't help, but wonder how large the penthouse was as a whole. Would it be able to fit your entire house plus those of your neighbors on your street back in the Seam of District 12 in it? 

You were curious about the size of your new home, the 12th floor penthouse of a luxury Corso building. A building that had pillars and marble worthy of the ancient Roman Emperor Caesar himself.

Then it dawned on you, you were from District 12 and now you were in a 12th floor penthouse. Was that a coincidence or fate?

The door slammed shut behind you, pulling you out of your mental reverie and reminding you that you're not alone; that Coriolanus is right behind you.

“I promise, you'll get a tour of the place tomorrow.” His baritone, thick with exhaustion, echoed from the darkness. His black dress shoes clicked against the floor as he closed the space between you. 

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Your breath was caught in your throat as you stared out into the moonlit room, awaiting your fate. Whatever that may be.

The large room was silent, too silent, and you felt like prey about to be attacked by their predator. Your ears strained to hear the movements of your predator since you were too nervous to turn around and find out where the imposing head gamemaker truly was. Suddenly, a scream caught in your throat as a large hand touched the small of your back; causing you to jump out of your skin in fear.

“Oh, darling, there's no reason to be so jumpy.” Coriolanus’ voice assured you from behind. His breath fanned over your cheek as he bent over slightly, towering over you like a weeping willow. His lips hovered over your ear as he reassuringly whispered, “You're safe here with me, your Coryo.” 

But were you truly safe with him? He was the man that had designed the deadly arena you were trapped in for days, battling for your life. How could you be safe with him? Surely you weren't in any danger in the Capitol. The dangers were back in the arena. Right?

Turning slightly, your eyes searched for his face. Coriolanus’ pale face was illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, making his pale skin have an ethereal glow while his normally icy eyes had a celestial glint in them. He looked as beautiful as an angel. 

A fallen angel.

Lucifer.

Yes, he was as beautiful as an angel turned devil.

You blinked away the thought of angels and devils alike only to avert your eyes from Coriolanus’ facial features and ask, “I survived the arena and I'm here in the Capitol now. Why wouldn't I be safe?”

A thin line crossed Coriolanus’ lips as he thought how to explain things to you. He didn't want to scare you with the harsh truths of the situation you were in by not just being his, but the victor of the First Quarter Quell. One truth being that he was a powerful man that had enemies posing as friends behind large fake smiles at every turn that wouldn't think twice about hurting the beautiful woman on his arm, who made his cold dead eyes flicker with life, to get to him. The other truth was a much darker one. You were a victor, HIS Victor, but still a victor and every high profile Capitol citizen knew that a desirable victor could be bought for a night if the prize was right. If the capitolite could pay a high price, then they could use the victor as their whore in any way they wished. 

Now that was a fate Coriolanus refused to subject you to. You were his and he didn't share what belonged to him. Sadly, that wouldn't stop horny, lecherous capitolites from salivating over you in lust though.

He was going to keep you close at all times during public appearances to make sure that nobody could steal what was rightfully his. He’d also have Tigris make your gowns match his event suits, just to drive it home to everyone in the Capitol that you were his and only his. If somebody so much as looked at you sideways he’d kill them and make it look like an accident. Coriolanus’ mind quickly weaved the words to say that would pacify you. Rubbing circles into your lower back, he gave you the sugar coated truth of, “The Capitol can be a dangerous pit of vipers, my darling rose. If you don't know how to play the game, well, you're in danger of being eaten alive.”

Tilting your head slightly, you countered him. “And I suppose you know how to play the game?”

“You supposed right, Y/N.” Coriolanus confirmed. Leaning his face dangerously close to yours, so your noses were barely touching, he vowed, “When the time is right, my darling rose, I'll teach you how to be a master chess player in the Capitol’s games.” His breath mingled with yours, that's how close his lush lips were to your cracked ones, as he suggested, “Let's get to bed, darling. It's late and I do have a busy day come sunrise.”

Your heart was beating out of control against your ribcage; your mouth went as dry as the desert. “Where-where’s my bedroom?” You slightly stuttered, feeling overwhelmed by the platinum devil’s looming presence over you. 

“I was just about to bring you there, my darling rose.” Coriolanus answered you.

“Okay, thank you.” 

As soon as you entered your new bedroom you realized that it was the master bedroom and even with the only light coming from the moon shining into the large floor to ceiling windows, you quickly took notice that the decor was fit for a man. Oh no. This wasn't just your room, but Coriolanus’ as well. Shuffling a bit into the room as the platinum blonde man shut the door, you stated, “We're sharing a room.”, although it did sound more like a question with how shaken your voice was.

“Well, considering it's my penthouse, yes, darling, we're sharing the room.” Coriolanus answered, crossing the room to a large closet. “Strip out of your dress; I'll give you a shirt to sleep in.” He told you, not even giving you time to make a remark about him owning the penthouse, as he slid open the closet door and reached inside of it.

“Where's your wife? Isn't this her room as well as yours?” You asked before you could think any better of it. You couldn't help it, sometimes your brain to mouth filter didn't work.

Coriolanus’ body shook as if he was possessed by an earthquake. He roughly yanked a white button down shirt off a hanger, causing the wire hanger to fly out of the closet and onto the floor somewhere. Slamming the closet door shut so hard that the thing bounced right off its track, he spun around and seethed, “I told you, Y/N, that I don't tolerate brats and back talk. I also told you in the car not to worry about Livia; that she won't be my wife too much longer.” He threw the shirt at you, causing it to hit you smack dab in the face, only to order with a careless wave of his hand, “Strip and put that on; then get into bed.” 

With the shirt in your hand, you went over to the bed while he started to take off his white fitted shirt. Pulling off your floral dress, you heard him tell you, “She's across town in the townhouse she lives in. I use this penthouse, my childhood home, as a getaway from the hateful shrew.” You didn't say a word, just slipped on the dress shirt he gave you to wear as a sleep shirt. 

The moonlight shined over Coriolanus’ back, which was turned to you, and highlighted his scars as he toed out of his dress shoes and pulled down his black slacks. You took note that one was a long silver thing, most likely from a knife or an ax wound, while the other was a burn scar that had marbled a large chunk of his shoulder and flank a white and pinkish shade. You've seen scars before, but those were always from mining accidents. Never like this. 

Before you could think twice about it, you crossed the room until you stopped right behind Coriolanus. Your hands, slightly raw from handling a knife and the elements in the hunger games, shook as you raised them. Your fingertips lightly ghosted over the scars on his back, scars that he let nobody (not even the wife that he hated) see for fear that they'd think him weak or lesser of a man.

Your feather-like touch burned his skin as if the wounds healed from 15 years ago had been reopened with a flaming hot poker.

“What happened, Coryo?” You asked, genuine concern flooding your voice, as Coriolanus stood in front of you in only his boxers and socks. Socks that he desperately wanted to take off, but couldn't due to your touch on his back rooting him in place like a tree.

It's been so long since he's been touched so lightly, so innocently, that he'd forgotten how good an affectionate touch of a woman felt.

He put all of his effort in steadying his breathing (he was a grown man and a politician, not a green boy in his academy days) so you wouldn't realize the effect you had on him. Oh, and the effect you had on him was intoxicating. He could feel his bulge growing in the confines of his boxers. Only your innocent touch and genuine concern over his scars from what seemed like another lifetime, when he was another person, would make all his blood rush to his cock.

“I was caught in some life and death situations when I was your age. I survived and was victorious.” Coriolanus answered, his voice clipped and measured, before he pulled away from you as if your touch burnt hotter than the flames of hellfire. Looking at you from over his shoulder, he sighed, “I'm not in the mood to share the story, my darling rose, so just be a good girl and go to bed.” His head turned back around, causing him to stare at his feet, as he added in as an afterthought, “I'll join you shortly.”

You didn't say a word, just turned around and made your way over to the large bed you'd be sharing with the head gamemaker. Your dress was strewn over the bottom edge of the bed, the soft cotton floral material contrasting against the dark silk duvet. You debated whether or not to fold up the dress and set it aside or just leave it there and crawl into bed. 

The bed was large enough that you could get in without rustling your dress, but you decided against it. While you folded your dress, you heard the sound of Coriolanus collecting his clothes from the floor. With your now folded dress in hand, you turned to find a place to put it, only to see Coriolanus draping his clothes over a nearby desk chair.

You knew that he wanted you in bed, but you needed to put your dress up. It'd get lost if you just left it on the bed. So, silently, you padded over to the desk and placed your folded up dress on the edge of it. 

His back was turned to you, so he didn't see you. Honestly, you didn't know if you wanted him to. His interactions seemed all over the place when It came to you and, right now, you didn't know how to feel about that.

Before the platinum blonde man could turn round, you quietly rushed over to the king sized bed. You thanked your lucky stars that it was so big. It meant that you didn't have to worry about any awkward sleeping positions with Coryo.

Hmm…or at least that's what you thought. 

Your Coryo had other plans for your sleeping arrangements.

You pulled back the dark pearly duvet only to reveal red sheets embroidered with white roses. The silky sheets were a pop of color against the duvet and pillows. Your knee crumpled the sheets as you climbed into bed.

Coriolanus made his way over to you, watching as you sunk down into the large bed, looking like an absolute angel in it. Before you could even reach for the duvet, to pull around your shoulders, his voice sounded out with a simple order of, “Leave it. I'll pull it around us once I join you.”

That right there, that simple sentence, was what tipped you off that you'd be sleeping close to the head gamemaker. A fact that had your stomach doing somersaults. You literally held your breath while the bed dipped beneath Coriolanus’ weight. He pulled the duvet over your bodies before slithering his arm around your waist; pulling you close to him. Oddly enough, his boa constrictor-like hold made you release the breath you were holding.

Quickly, you came to terms with your new sleeping arrangements. There was nothing you could do, but let him spoon you with his bulge brushing against the swell of your ass. 

He pressed a goodnight kiss to your temple.“Sleep well, my darling rose.”

“G’night, Coryo.” You responded as you heard his breathing start to even out, indicating that he'd found sleep shortly after his head touched his pillow.

Ha! Sleep well. That's rich, considering every time you closed your eyes you were transported back to your time in the arena. Different faces and names along with arena locations fluttered around your brain as you tried to sleep, causing your eyes to fly open. 

You doubt that you'll ever sleep well again. 

You began to toss and turn, causing Coriolanus’ hold on your middle to loosen. No matter what position you rolled into, your insomnia remained. Eventually you turned your head to the window, eyes locking onto the silhouette of the moon high up in the city’s black velvet sky. You couldn't help, but wonder how bright the moon was shining back in District 12 and if anyone back home was staring at it like you were due to insomnia.

“You need to sleep, darling.” Coriolanus' voice mumbled out, causing you to stop staring at the moon and to turn to stare at him instead.

“I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I'm back inside that arena, Coriolanus.” You honestly told him as you felt your eyes grow heavy with sleep that nightmares would never let you get.

“It’ll pass in time.” He told you in a tone that had a sense of foreshadowing in it. 

Coriolanus adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard, only to pull you close to his side. His large calloused hand wrapped around your neck, thumb caressing your pulse point as his prominent nose nudged against yours. “Y/N, you need to calm down and rest. Luckily for you, I know the perfect way to help you do that.” 

Before you could even ask him what he meant, his soft lips were hungrily pressed against yours. The fact that your lips were chapped and cracked from the elements you were exposed to didn't bother him. In fact the roughness of your lips seemed to turn him on.

Coriolanus’ hand traveled from your neck up to your jaw while his other one dug into your hip. His long fingers held your jaw in a firm grip, that was borderline bruising, as his teeth nipped and tugged at your bottom lip. 

Suddenly Coriolanus' teeth bit down into your lower lip, drawing both blood and a moan from you. Quickly his tongue soothingly lapped up the metallic liquid blooming on your lip, causing heat to pool between your legs. You let out a tiny whimper, giving him the opportunity to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Your breathing sped up unevenly as Coriolanus’ tongue explored your mouth, entwining your tongues in an intimate dance. One of your hands dug into his bicep while the other found its way to the nape of his neck. He pulled away slightly, gasping for air, only to attack your lips once again. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to live and he was a man suffocating for a thousand years.

His hand ran up and down your thigh, causing you to subtly rub your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache between them. A dull ache that was becoming harder to ignore thanks to him swallowing all the air from your lungs with his sinfully plush lips.

Pulling away from you, only to pepper kisses up and down your jaw, he smirked, “I see you're needy for me, my darling.” 

“Um…” You stuttered, feeling any and all words slip from your mind due to the heavy feelings of want currently coursing through you.

Coriolanus stopped kissing your jaw, only to look at you with black, lust blown eyes. His baritone was rapsy, from the strain in his own boxers, as he orders, “Use your words, Y/N.” His large hand slung your leg over his hip as you sat next to him, slightly propped up on your side. His hand trailed up your inner thigh, teasingly. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.” 

All you could do was stare at him with lust filled in your eyes. You knew what you needed, but being inexperienced you were unsure of how to word it. Your breath hitched as his hand brushed your inner thigh, close to where you needed his touch the most to soothe the growing ache in you. It was as if he knew what you needed, but was purposely holding back and edging you on until you verbally confirmed what you needed; what you wanted from him.

Deciding that your growing ache overpowered your impending embarrassment, you shyly looked at Coryo and softly said, “I need you.”

A Cheshire grin of victory appeared on Coriolanus’ lips. “See, that wasn't so hard to say now was it, my Victor?” His hand slipped out from underneath the hem of your shirt (his white button up) and suddenly his pointer and middle fingers were pressed against your swollen bottom lip. “Open.” He demanded.

You opened your mouth, with the question of why on the tip of your tongue, but you never got to utter a word since he slipped his fingers into your mouth. “Suck on them.” He ordered in a raspy tone, causing you to obey. Your tongue swirled over his digits before sucking on them. “Oh, you suck my fingers like such a needy little slut. Can't wait until you suck my cock like one too.” 

Coriolanus removed his fingers from your mouth with a loud wet pop. “Unbutton your shirt, darling.” Coriolanus told you as his hand disappeared under the hem of your shirt. As his fingers teasingly touched your dripping folds, he all but moaned out, “You're so fucking wet. Is that all for me?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out, feeling yourself clench at his touch. A touch that felt both like fire and ice as he played with your folds, only to start rubbing gentle circles into your clit. “Coriolanus.” You called out in a breathless whisper, fingers shaking as you unbuttoned your shirt, like Coriolanus ordered, while feeling the pleasurable pressure of his thumb on your clit paired with a finger ghosting your wet entrance.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Coryo?” He asked, teeth grinding, while slapping your pussy with a punishing force.

“Coryo…” You whined, shifting as a result of feeling the sting the slap left on your pussy.

“Oh, now my needy little slut calls me Coryo? Hmm…you learn quickly, my darling rose.” Coriolanus told you in a tone dripping with a dark mix of authority and lust. His fingers went back to working your folds as if they were the strings of a fine instrument while devouring your mouth in a heated kiss that was more teeth than lips.

You had finished unbuttoning your shirt and went to reach for his neck, to use as an anchor as he kissed you and played with your soaking cunt, but to your surprise he broke the kiss and ordered, “Take off your shirt. I want to see your tits.”

You nodded and pushed your shirt off your shoulders, making it crumble behind you on the bed. Coryo’s eyes were black as coal and danced with the fires of lust as he looked upon your bare chest heaving up and down. He felt his cock get painfully harder in his boxers as he grabbed one of your tits; pressing an open mouthed kiss on the other. All while his middle finger slipped into the wet heat of your tight hole. 

Your mouth made an O shape as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of your tight hole, teasing you. One of your hands latched onto his shoulder while the other found itself entwined in his platinum blonde curls as his fingers greedily kneaded your tit while his teeth grazed your nipple.

“Oh…Coryo…” Fell from your lips like a prayer as you felt him slip a second finger inside of your cunt while twisting your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Coryo pulled his lips from your nipple with a wet pop, only to darkly smirk, “That's it, Y/N. Beg for me, beg for me to finger fuck you like a good little slut.” 

Your face flushed every shade of red at his dirty, degrading words. Oh god, his words sent a warm tingle straight to your core. What was wrong with you that such filth turned you on?

Stilling the pair of fingers he had stuffed in your soaking wet pussy, he stared you down and ordered, “Beg or I won't fuck you. Won't let you cum hard on my fingers, my darling rose.”

Subconsciously, you darted your tongue out of your mouth and licked your lips. With your chest quickly rising and falling paired with an achy need in your pussy, you obeyed Coryo. “Please, Coryo, finger fuck me like your good little slut.” You pleaded, voice overcome with want.

Hearing you say ‘your good little slut’ instead of repeating his words of ‘a good little slut’ made Coriolanus go primal with an urge to devour you. Yes, you were his. You even confirmed it in your desperation for a pleasurable release. You knew you were his and that did so many things to Coryo. 

“Don't worry, my good little slut, I'll make you feel good. I'll make you cum.” Coryo promised, curling his fingers up into your cunt only to press against your spongy spot. The high pitch whine you let out paired with the way your hips bucked tipped him off that he found your g spot. “That's the spot that's going to make you soak my fingers with your cum, huh?”

“Uh huh.” You mumbled as you felt him begin to thrust his fingers harder into you, making sure to hit your spongy spot every time.

Coryo bent his head down, only to start roughly kissing your boobs while his hand worked your sopping wet pussy fast and hard. His teeth grazed the swell of your breast only to place a biting bruise there. 

“Coryo…don't leave a mark…” You breathlessly requested.

Coriolanus didn't like to be told what to do, especially in the bedroom where he was always the dominant one, so your request pissed him off. His eyes flashed dangerously as his head tilted up to look at you. Grabbing your hair into a rope and roughly tugging it, causing your head to snap, he warned, “Don't order me around or I’ll stop and won't let you cum.”

Your eyes searched his to see if he was bluffing, but all you could see was the truth behind his lust blown pupils. “I won't order you around. I promise, Coryo. Just, please, let me cum.” You told him, desperate to cum since, during his threat, he stilled his hand (one again).

He added a third finger inside of your tight pussy, causing you to feel a slight burn at the stretch, and rubbed your clit with his thumb all while telling you, “Consider this a warning, since your still so innocent, my darling rose, but if you pull this again I won't let you cum no matter how much you beg. I'll just stuff by cock in your mouth and call it a night.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded. 

Coryo smiled, happy that you learned your lesson, before latching his lips onto your collar bone. He pressed a few open mouthed kisses before sinking his teeth down into your flesh. His teeth grazed bone, causing you to let out a loud scream. His tongue tastes your metallic blood as he lapped at your wound. He soothed it with the swirl of a practiced tongue while pumping his fingers faster and faster into you.

You pulled his head away from your collar bone, only to look into his crazed eyes and declare, “I'm close, Coryo. So close.” 

Coryo captured your lips in his, quickly letting you taste the metallic tang of your blood, only to pull away and murmur, “I know, darling. I know you are.”

His forehead was leaning against yours as he pistoned his fingers in and out of your wet hole, causing obscene loud squelching sounds to fill the air. Your hips began canting up, chasing your high, as you held onto him like a lifeline. The knot in your stomach got tighter and you knew that any minute you were going to break and come undone.

“Coryo…” You moaned, clawing at him to anchor you in the moments before you came tumbling down.

“Cum right now, my darling rose. Cum right now like the little slut you are.” Coryo ordered, his voice thick and raspy, as he roughly pumped his fingers into your pussy while sloppily, but quickly, thumbing at your puffy clit.

You cum hard with his name loudly falling from your lips; your fingers digging into his shoulder and scalp. You stared into his lust blown black eyes as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, helping you ride wave after wave of orgasmic aftershocks. He only stops whenever you tug at his wrist while whimpering, “Too much, Coryo.”

With a proud smile on his face, Coryo removed his soaking wet hand from your pussy and brought it up for you both to see. “You're a very messy girl, Y/N. Soaked our sheets.” He chuckled before licking every single one of his fingers clean. Then he licked his palm clean and told you, “My darling rose, you're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.”

He dipped his hand back between your legs, only to use his pointer finger to gather some of your juices. Removing his hand and placing his finger to your lips, he ordered, “Taste how sweet you are.”

Without even thinking about it, you wrapped your mouth around his finger and swirled your tongue to taste your tanginess.

“Good girl.” Coryo praised you while removing his finger from your mouth with a wet pop. Grabbing your hand, he brought it to rest on the large bulge in his boxers. “You feel that, my darling rose? That's what you do to me.”

Looking between his bulge and his face, you asked, “You want me to suck your cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes, well, it would be nice considering what I did to make you feel good.” Coryo countered, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. You were just asking him a question, he didn't have to be so condescending about it. 

“I've never-” You began to tell him, only for him to cut you off with a simple, “I know, Y/N.” 

He removed your leg from his hip and got out of bed, all the while telling you, “I’ll teach you what I like, my darling rose. Don't worry your pretty little head over it.”

You watched him pull down his boxers, causing his hard dick to bounce up against his stomach. Your eyes widened at the sight. Yes, you've never seen one before, but by looking at Coryo's you knew he had a big cock. It had to be at least 8 inches. It had veins running alongside it and the head was an angry shade of red. Precum was leaking from his tip and all you could do was stare at it. 

“It's so big.” You gasped as he rejoined you in bed.

“You really think so, Y/N?” Coryo asked. He knew he was blessed with a big cock, but hearing you say it gave him an ego boost.

“Yea.” You nodded, eyes flicking between his hard cock and his eyes.

Coriolanus made himself comfortable by leaning against the headboard and bending his knees slightly. “Get between my legs, darling.” He instructed.

“Do you want me laying down or crouching or?...” You trailed off while crawling down between his legs.

“Whatever’s more comfortable for you. It doesn't make any difference to me as long as my cock’s in your mouth.” Coriolanus crudely told you. His eyes were glued to you as you bent down on your knees while placing a hand on each of his thighs. When you looked at him with a nervous innocence in your eyes, it turned him on. “Place a hand at the base of my cock and start by licking the tip.” He told you, knowing that if he didn't you'd probably stare at his cock wide eyed all night (well morning, but it didn't make that much of a difference).

You nodded before placing your right hand at the base of him and licking his leaky tip. His precum had a salty, musky taste to it but it wasn't horrible. In fact, you found that you didn't mind the taste of him. You gave his tip another lick, only to flicker your tongue over his slit.

“Oh fuck…” Coriolanus gritted out. He felt his balls tighten and he knew that he had to get you to move this along. He couldn’t cum just from you teasing his tip. That would be embarrassing, not to mention beneath him. “Wrap your mouth around it and suck, darling.” He instructed you. 

Nodding, you did as you were told and put his cock into your mouth. You began to suck, only to discover that his size made your jaw hurt. Also, he was so big that you started to gag on his cock. You tried to calm yourself and breathe thru your nose, but it was easier said than done. 

Upon seeing tears leaking from your eyes, Coriolanus groaned. “Darling, take as much in as you can and use your hand to work the rest for now.” Reaching his hand into your hair, he added, “Don't worry, it won't be long until you'll be able to take all of me.”

You let his big cock fall out of your mouth with a wet plop, only to look up at him and say in a worried voice, “Okay, but are you sure this is going to feel good for you? You're the only man I've ever been with and…yea…” 

You honestly did want to make him feel good since he made you feel good. Right now in this moment the only thing that mattered was returning the favor. Anything else (like how he was cheating on his wife with you or how he designed the arena that you could've died in; get nightmares from) would be dealt with later.

Coryo's too small black heart clenched at your words. How could you think that you were unable to make him feel good because you've never been with a man up until now? Didn't he tell you he'd teach you; show you what he liked? Didn't you agree to let him be your teacher? Was it your youthful innocence making you second guess yourself?

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he assured you, “You’ll be able to make me feel very good, my darling rose, because I'll teach you what to do.” His thumb brushed over your swollen lips as he darkly added, “I'm the only man you'll ever be with, Y/N, because you're mine and I don't share what's mine.” 

“But I have to share you?” Came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think better of it. 

Coryo raised his hand up in the air only to bring it down against your already bruised cheekbone in a loud, punishing smack. Grabbing your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger, he lowly hissed, “I don't fuck my wife so you're not sharing me, Y/N. Don't you dare accuse me of not being faithful to you because I am.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks, causing him to use the pads of his thumbs to wipe them away. “You have nothing to worry about, my darling rose, I'm obsessively loyal to you and would never taint what we have by cheating.”

If you weren't still half blissed out from your orgasm minutes earlier his words would've been a huge red flag waving wildly in the wind. But, since your brain was still up on cloud 9, his words went right over your head. All you could do was nod your head at him. 

Tenderly stroking your cheek, that he just struck, Coryo sighed, “I really didn't want to slap you again, Y/N, but you left me no choice by accusing me of making you share me with that awful bitch.” 

“I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't thinking.” You told him, mostly because it was the truth. You really didn't mean to make that remark. It just slipped out.

“Yes, well, you need to be more aware of your words. You're in the Capitol now and saying the wrong thing here, well…just don't do it if you want to keep your tongue.”

Holy shit! Was he threatening to make you an avox or just talking in general? Honestly, you didn't know and you didn't want to find out. 

Threading his fingers in your hair, he smiled, “Why don't you get back to sucking my cock so we can get to bed.”

So that's what you did. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking as much of it as you could into your mouth. Using your hand, you worked what you couldn't fit into your mouth. Just like Coryo told you to do. Quickly, you realize that hollowing out your cheeks made it a bit easier to take in his cock. 

As your tongue slid up the underside of his veiny cock, while you sucked him, Coryo let out a low moan. “You're sucking my cock so good for your first time. You're such a good little slut for me.” His hand tightened in your hair as he ordered, “Go a bit faster now and play with my balls.”

You couldn't say a word, since his cock was in your mouth, but the look you gave him showed that you understood him. Quickly, you listened and started speeding up your movements while bringing your left hand to his balls. Your hand fondled his balls as spit began to spill from your mouth.

It was a messy site and it turned Coryo on. Seeing you, his innocent Victor, nearly choking on his cock with spittle falling from your mouth was better than any wet dream he could've ever imagined. Oh, and looking at you rolling and squeezing his balls full of his cum in your hand spurred him on. 

Suddenly, before you could even comprehend what was going on, Coryo tightened his hold on your hair and began to trust his hips up. “Fuck, you feel so good. I need to fuck your throat.” He groaned. 

His balls began to tighten up in your hand as he fucked up into your face with a wild feralness. It was as if he was possessed by the spirit of a wild animal. He needed to mark you as his and what better way than shoving the tip of his cock to the very back of your throat.

As he bucked his hips, bullying his cock down your throat, you continued to suck him and use your tongue on him. You never stopped playing with his balls either.

For your first time sucking cock, you seemed to figure out real quick how Coriolanus liked it. Perhaps next time it'll go over without a hitch, unlike tonight…

You felt the roots of your hair burning as Coryo’s grip on your hair grew tighter. “Fuck…Y/N, I'm gonna cum.” He bucked up in fast sloppy movements while ordering, “You better be a good little slut for me and swallow every drop.” 

You remembered how you heard some girls at school from the merchant sector gossiping in gym class about how one of the Seam girls was nasty because they heard a rumor that she swallowed. You remembered how when you got home you asked Ashlie, your older brother's girlfriend, what the merchant girls meant and she gave you a quick talking to about it. All she said was that girls who swallowed when going down on a man were considered dirty girls and not to do it. That no respectable man would want a girl that did that.

Well, it seems that all of that was bullshit because the head gamemaker of Panem was ordering you to swallow his cum with a look full of lust, neediness, and adoration in his baby blue turned black as coal eyes. Coriolanus Snow was a very respectable man. Hell he was listed as one of the richest men in Panem according to some late night talk show, so if he said to swallow then it wasn't such a dirty thing after all.

Suddenly, you felt thick, hot ropes of cum shoot onto your tongue and down your throat as Coriolanus let out moans and curses around the proper noun that was your name. 

You did what he wanted and swallowed down his salty seed.

When you let his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, he caressed your cheek. “I see you swallowed every drop I gave you. Very good, darling.” Using his other hand to pat the spot on the bed next to him, he said, “Come here, I’m tired and we both need some sleep.”

Crawling over to the spot next to him, you sighed, “I'm afraid I won't be able to go to sleep, Coryo. Every time I try I have flashbacks and nightmares.”

Coryo adjusted himself to lay comfortably on his back. Stretching an arm out, in an invitation for you to snuggle up to his side, he tiredly told you, “You’ll be able to fall asleep, Y/N.” As you settled in next to him, he added, “You're safe with me, my darling rose.” While laying your head down on his chest along with resting a hand there, he pulled the blankets over you both and said, “Just lay your head on my chest and remember that I'll always protect you.” Leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “I will kill for you, darling. To keep you safe with me, I swear I will kill half the Capitol if that's what it takes to keep you safe in my arms.” His sleep laden voice got even softer as he declared, “You're mine and I'll never let anything hurt you again. You'll always be safe with me, my darling rose.”

You drifted off to sleep with those odd last words of his (a promise of safety, possession, and murders to come) going in one ear and out the other.

Maybe if you weren't so exhausted, both mentally and physically, you would've paid more attention to those words. Maybe they would've made you run for the hills. Or maybe not. 

Even a monster needs somebody to love them. But what is a beast without his precious rose? 

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak

[hongthoven]

All mine | hongjoong x reader (smut)

⁂ warnings:

smut, handjob (m. receiving), oral (m. receiving), spit kink, pet names (mostly 'baby girl') , reader is sucking dick for the first time, and that's about it tbh.

⁂ author’s notes:

this prompt was solely inspired by @whatudowhennooneseesyou's day 22: sugar!daddy with Hongjoong story that I requested back in October ( read here ♥ )

please leave comments/reblog if you liked it ♥

one shot | 2.6k words

You had no idea why you were so nervous but still, as soon as you heard the front door slamming shut, it felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest, its beating quickening at the speed of light as you suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever. 

When it came to Hongjoong and his sketchy business, you knew better than to ask about his day or whatever mischief he had been up to in the evening. Whether he would come home to you in the middle of the night or surprisingly early, the only thing that truly mattered was to see him walking through the door alive and without a scratch. Your only fear remaining in the simple thought of having him getting hurt while fooling around with the wrong people. 

While there wasn’t a scratch in sight, his face still showed some obvious signs of a bad day, his natural pouty lips straight as a line as he crashed into the couch next to you, still fully dressed.

“C’m’here…” he muttered, his hand vaguely pointing towards him as he quite obviously invited you to straddle his lap, something you didn’t need to be asked twice as you slowly crawled towards him, making yourself comfortable with one leg on each side of his thighs. Sometimes you felt so putty into his hands, only so vaguely conscious of how easy it would be for him to wreck you while you knew there was no escape to the chokehold he had you into. Not that you ever wished to escape it. Hongjoong had quickly become your everything and the simple thought of losing him was enough to steal every ounce of air your lungs had left. 

“Gimme a kiss” again, his words barely mumbled through a groan as he tilted his head towards your chin, attaching your lips together as soon as you compelled. You wanted to ask if he was okay, if there was anything you could do to make him feel better, your heart sinking into your chest as you missed his beautiful smile although it remained a rare sight only you were lucky enough to catch from time to time. He wasn’t much of a talker, but you couldn’t ignore the way he seemed to only find peace into your loving arms as words remained unspoken. 

Still, Hongjoong seemed already pleased with the way your lips melted between his teeth, the delicate strawberry scent of your lip-balm wrapping his tongue with sweetness as his hands traveled from your hips to the back of your neck, his fingers tightening a strong grip around a thick piece of hair as he growled into your mouth.

“Mine. All mine.” 

You could feel your entire body covered with goosebumps at the sound of his trembling voice, his words echoing all the way down to your core as you found pride in the way he made sure to own you entirely. Regardless of how desperate you may have sounded to anyone outside of this relationship, you simply loved the idea of being his. 

100% his. 

Forever.

Things had been taking a whole new spin ever since your first time with him. Hongjoong making a mission out of collecting orgasms from his precious baby girl while always praising every single piece of your body, every sound coming out of your mouth and pretty much anything surrounding the absolute love of his life. You had never felt so adored and yet, you wanted more, like a greedy baby begging for a treat. 

Lately you had found yourself staring and gazing at your lover a lot more, like your eyes could never get enough of that face, his perfect profile, loving the way he stood out in a room and how every single one of his tattoos seemed to be a secret for you to keep, your lips always attached to these little artworks like you were some museum curator making a living out of keeping his body safe. Just like he was. Keeping you safe, comfortable and above anything else, more cherished than you had ever felt before. 

And tonight, you wanted to pay him back for making you feel so unique. 

“What are you doin’” Hongjoong once again mumbled, a little surprised this time as you slipped to his feet, your knees hitting the carpeted floor as your hands traveled up his legs, knees and these incredibly muscular thighs you had grown obsessed with. 

You had no idea why Hongjoong had been so reluctant to have you down on your knees with a mouthful of him ever since you had started to have sex together and tonight was no exception as he was quick to pinch your chin between his thumb and pointy finger to make you look up into his eyes. 

“Answer me, baby girl” his voice wasn’t threatening but you knew him too well not to play it coy. With your cheek resting against his inner thigh, brushing your skin over the stiff fabric of his pants, you looked like a cute little pet asking for attention and a good pat on the head. Something you knew he couldn’t resist- which he immediately confirmed with a soft sigh and his palm resting against the cheek that wasn’t burning against his pants. 

“You know I don’t need you to do this… I can have you any way I want…”

He was right- you thought, recalling the many times he actually ‘had’ you lately and how you had ventured into riskier positions every single time. Hongjoong was many things, but something he never lacked was some serious stamina and the will to turn every piece of furniture you owned as the most perfect place to fuck you against. You could actually feel your face turning into the brightest shade of red as you recalled the night before and how you ended up with two massively bruised knees from being bent on all fours over the leather couch as Hongjoong pounded into you from behind relentlessly with a strong grip around your throat.

Looking up into his eyes turned out to be a much harder task once your mind was stuck down memory lane, his raspy growls still echoing through your head as your lover was still quite impatiently waiting for you to get back into his lap and forget about your initial plan. 

But tonight, you were more determined than ever. 

A woman on a mission, mouth watering at the thought. 

“Baby—” Hongjoong threatened again as your fingers started fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it without further word as you were quick to get busy with his zipper, pulling it down until his bulge was right in front of your nose, suffocating into the cotton fabric of his underwear. 

“Just relax and let me take care of you– please…?” You knew he could never resist you when you begged, not when your voice had turned so soft on him, not when you looked up like a regretful puppy, not when your eyes were a fair mix of sweetness and mischief. He loved you so much it was actually painful to look at you sometimes. 

His everything. 

All he had left into the darkness of the world he belonged to. 

You could feel him stiffen a little as your hands eventually fiddled with his boxers, palming him through the fabric until you finally took a dive and grabbed his throbbing member to unveil all of its glory. 

Hongjoong had finally gone quiet, his eyes glued on you like two rounded magnets as his lips turned into an ‘o’ the second your fist wrapped around him, your cheek still comfortably nesting into his inner thigh as your lips nibbled at the soft, squishy part of his skin, so close to his erection he could barely handle the warmth of your breath ghosting his balls. 

“So pretty” you murmured, the innocence in your voice almost insufferable as Hongjoong almost choked on his own saliva at the sight of you– one hand softly stroking his hardened cock as the other grazed the top of his thighs while your lips dangerously made their way closer to their target, pecking the inside of his thighs like it was your favorite flavor. His skin was warm and tender against your lips, his muscle clenching inevitably as your tongue finally reached his girth, licking a painfully slow stripe of his cock while your eyes looked up to catch his reaction. 

You could tell he was struggling as his bottom lip turned pale between his teeth, while he looked down on you through his hooded eyes- but nothing could have prepared you from the thrill of hearing him growl in absolute bliss as soon as your lips wrapped tightly around his head, sucking at his swollen skin like the tastiest candy while your fist started to pump along his shaft, collecting your own saliva to use as a lube while Hongjoong started to loosen up a little. 

While you were a complete first-timer, you silently patted yourself on the back for doing your research ahead of this moment, collecting praises as your head slowly bobbed up and down his cock, your eyes watering every time it hit the back of your throat while you tried to secure your thumb into your clenched fist- a special trick you had learned about the night before, supposedly helping with gag reflex. Out of the many fears you had regarding this intimate moment with Hongjoong -starting with the crippling fear of failure- not being able to take him entirely and drive him insane was close #2 on your list. 

Above anything, you wanted to please him, to watch him come undone against your lips and return the favor for all the times he had you whimpering and shaking under his tongue, taking you to climax with his perfect set of lips nibbling at your clit. Hongjoong wasn’t just a rough lover, he was as passionate as a hungry wolf who’s been starved for too long. He could never get enough of you and made sure to have you dripping all over his chin whenever he craved your taste- regardless of the place and time.

“Fuck— baby— are you sure this is your first?” Hongjoong merely growled while staring into your eyes. But when you were too slow to provide the only answer he was expecting, you immediately felt his hand softly pulling at your hair, making him pop out of your lips as you panted for breath. 

“I didn’t quite hear that… Now answer me properly…” He almost warned, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as your lips still glistened with precum. 

“Y-yes” you nodded, almost apologetically “I just wanted to be good to you…”. 

While there was no lie in that statement, you could feel your cheeks turning the brightest shade of red as you couldn’t find the guts to admit just how many videos you had watched, taking notes of all the twists and tricks to ensure him the best head he had ever been given. 

With a smirk, Hongjoong traced your bottom lip with his thumb, visibly satisfied. 

“Such a good girl for me always– you gonna let me fuck your perfect little mouth?” 

Again, a simple nod gave him the greenlight he was desperately hoping for, and from this moment, you could feel him getting more comfortable with your lips wrapped around him as his hands found the back of your neck, pushing you further down on him, your lips clenched around his shaft as you tried your best to take him entirely. Then, as soon as he could feel your jaw loosening up a little, Hongjoong slowly started to thrust himself into you, his fingers wrapped tightly into your hair, messing it up. 

“Fuck baby you feel so fucking amazing—so good to me—” Hongjoong’s voice was getting raspier, almost shaky as his thighs started to tremble underneath your clawed fingers, your breathing increasing everytime he hit the back of your throat a little harder.

“You okay baby?” He surprisingly asked, his fist releasing its grip for a second as he looked down on you while his hips slowed down. 

A little overwhelmed, you took the opportunity to take a breath, your watery eyes looking up to meet his gaze as the tip of your tongue collected some of him from the corner of your lips. You looked absolutely fucked-out with your hair all over the place, red cheeks and mascara slightly smudged under your eyes, but to his eyes, you were nothing but breath-taking. 

“Fuck, I love you” Hongjoong growled as he bent down, pressing his fingers underneath your chin to tilt your head forwards until his lips captured yours. There was something nasty about the way your tongue melted together into a fair mix of saliva and his own precum but you loved every second of it, every taste of him you could get. 

“Open your mouth, baby” he added, his eyes suddenly darker as you instantly obeyed, your entire body shivering at the sight of him spitting into your mouth. You could have sworn you’d seen his pupils grow bigger at the sight of his own spit splattered all over your tongue but soon enough, you were back between his thighs with a mouthful of the man you loved. Hongjoong’s spit kink wasn’t new to you as he had you sucking and nibbling over his fingers many times before, but this was entirely new and surprisingly exciting as you could feel your thighs clenching your obvious arousal together. 

Hongjoong wasn’t slow and tender anymore. He was rough, dirty, and rocketing his hips into your mouth as both his hands kept you down. Breathing had become a struggle but you were fueled by the sounds coming out of his mouth, from whimpers to proper moans, you couldn’t recall a time you’d heard him praising you this much, his typical charisma shattering between your lips as he reached climax in no time. 

“Wh-where” he whimpered through a throaty groan, hips shaking, legs trembling as his hands were ready to pull at your hair before the big final. But to his own surprise, you clenched your nails into his flesh, keeping his legs still as you made sure to collect every single drop he had to give. 

A little dizzy, seconds became hours as air left your lungs under the bitterness of his taste, and though it felt like you could faint any minute now, you couldn’t recall a time when you had felt happier. So full of him. The absolute love of your life. 

Hongjoong had gone quiet now, quick sharps of air coming out of his lips every time he struggled to take a breath, hands a little shaky into your hair as he finally released your messy locks from his strong grip. Out of breath, throat burning from the brutality of his last assaults as your cheek rested against his inner thigh, you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a minute, taking it all in. 

Time froze for a couple minutes as you both rested and contemplated the moment until Hongjoong finally landed one of his palms against your cheek, forcing eye-contact. He looked completely drained with his hair splattered all over his forehead, lips still shaped into an o as his chest moved up and down hastily. 

“Open your mouth baby…” he almost whispered as you immediately caved, opening your lips as Hongjoong slipped his thumb into your mouth with a soft smile.

“Mine- all mine” He added as you closed your lips around his fingers, exhaustion taking over as your cheek once again found its nest against his thigh. With your eyes tight shut, you were ready to doze off with his thumb comfortably clamped between your lips.

You were his.

His baby girl.

Forever. 

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mild self loathing, mentions of the slave trade

word count: 3,679

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words 'I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

a/n: The soulmate!AU won the poll (sort of, i know there's 8hrs left but i don't foresee the other competitors having an underdog moment here)! Happy 500/1000 followers celebration!! I'm thinking this will be less than 10 chapters, but it def will be more than the 3 I promised. B/c despite knowing I have no self control and learning from that I continue to make the same mistakes smh. Drabble ideas always turn into full length stories in my dumb head🤡 but I'm excited for this one.

01: UNSTOPPABLE FORCE MEETS IMMOVABLE OBJECT

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"a soulmate isn't someone who completes you. no, a soulmate is someone who inspires you to complete yourself. a soulmate is someone who loves you with so much conviction, and so much heart, that it is nearly impossible to doubt just how capable you are of becoming exactly who you have always wanted to be." ⏤ b.s.

.

You weren’t sure what was worse: knowing for most of your life that you were destined for a life on the run, or knowing that the universe deemed your soulmate to be a bounty hunter. It was some cruel twist of fate, you supposed. The galaxy was bored and decided to entertain itself by creating the most ironic coupling of all time. Honestly, if you weren’t one half of the said coupling you’d probably find it funny.

The cantina you sat in was like any of the other thousand you had sat in before. Messy, loud, and filled with people you had no desire to speak to. This one was especially worse because it was situated in Cratertown on Jakku of all places. It was a scud cantina in a scud city on a scud planet. The only reason you were still here was because you were desperate⏤ desperately searching the entire galaxy for a person who may or may not exist. You just wished this mysterious figure hadn’t picked cantinas as their signature hideaway spot.

You tapped the table twice, and the server passed by to fill your drink once more. You shot them a grateful smile and thanked them. Despite having barely any credits left in your pocket, you’d have to leave the server a hefty tip. You’d been here hours now, and he had put up with you the entire time. With a grumble of annoyance, you pulled a crumpled paper out of your jacket’s inner pocket and began to scratch out the last cantina on this damned planet. Bad news, this was a bust. Good news, you’d never have to step foot on Jakku again. 

“I can bring you in warm,” A voice spoke from behind you, “or I can bring you in cold.”

There they were. The words imprinted on your left rib cage since you turned thirteen. 

If this wasn’t your twentieth time hearing it then you might be impressed.

You slowly turned in your chair, hands raised, and stood. Now, you faced the Trandoshan bounty hunter holding you at blaster point. He chuckled as if he had already won. You shook your head, feigning disappointment, “Would you really arrest your soulmate?”

The Trandoshan narrowed his eyes at you in confusion. “What?”

“Well,” You shrugged, “It’s bound to work and get me out of a mess one day.”

You kicked the chair forward causing it to slam into the bounty hunter’s legs. He stumbled, grunting in pain, and you grabbed his hand to twist the blaster in a direction that wasn’t your face. He tried to reach out to hit you with his other hand. Before he could land a blow, you tucked your boot under the chair and kicked it up so it slammed into the Trandoshan’s jaw. He fell back, the blaster coming loose in his hand so you could snatch it away, and then it was you holding him at blaster point. 

“First off, you bounty hunters need to get more creative with your opening line.” You said. The bounty hunter growled and began to sit up. “Second, I’ll give you only one opportunity to walk away with your life. It’s your choice⏤” He jumped up to lunge at you, and without blinking you fired his blaster into his chest three times. When his body lay on the cantina floor, twitching, you sighed and tossed the blaster to the ground. “You literally didn’t even let me finish my offer, you ass.”

You glanced around, dusting off your hands, and realized the entire cantina was staring at you. With an awkward chuckle, you raised a hand and offered a sheepish smile. “My bad. Sorry.”

Knowing it was past time for you to get the kriff out of here, you bent over and rifled through the Trandoshan’s jacket. You found the holopuck and rapidly blinking tracking fob⏤ tossing both into your pockets. Then you rose only to kneel down again and steal the man’s credits. You threw the entire bag of coins onto the table you were sitting at and waved at your server who stood behind the bar with wide eyes. It’s not like the bounty hunter needed them anymore.

Hopefully, you’d be done fighting bounty hunters for the night. As you stepped out into the chilly, desert night air you paused to scoop the tracking fob out. The holopuck you would keep to add to your growing collection, but the fob was better off destroyed. You slammed it into the side of the cantina and let the broken pieces fall into the sand.

Maybe the galaxy had actually done you a favor. You stopped believing in the magic of soulmates a long, long time ago. So fate choosing to make your supposed soulmate the worst kind of being who floated around the universe was the best deterrent you could think of.

Din Djarin wasn’t sure what was worse: knowing for most of his life that his soulmate was going to be a criminal of some kind, or knowing that it was going to be his job to bring you in. If he really thought about it, took the time to write out a pros and cons list, then he’d have to choose the former rather than the latter. Din didn’t like thinking about it for very long though because the thought that fate deemed him the kind of person only worthy of love from someone who had done something to make them deserving of a bounty was a bit depressing. For the longest time, Din liked to pretend that maybe it was all some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe you were an Empire bounty and the reason you were wanted was because you fought against some Imps. It wasn’t a solid theory because he had only picked up a bounty for the Empire once and it had been Grogu’s. Din didn’t plan on picking up an Empire bounty ever again⏤ not that they’d want him to considering his history with Moff Gideon and the absolute pain he’s caused them since finding Grogu. 

That didn’t leave Din with many better options.

For the longest time, Din had been nervous before a hunt. What if this was the time he ran into the person fate chose for him? After a while, he grew a bit numb to it. Hardened. The longer he worked as a bounty hunter the more okay he was with being on his own. The thought of having to care for a soulmate exhausted him. Din started to hope he’d find you just so he could be rid of the entire situation. After Grogu came into his life, he realized what a lonely existence he had backed himself into. Things changed then, but having a foundling⏤ having a clan⏤ was more than he had ever hoped for in life.

Now, Din just ignored the words carved into the skin overlying his left rib cage.

“Patu.” Grogu cooed from the satchel hanging from his shoulder. Din glanced down to see the little boy trying to wiggle out to reach for a stand where a merchant was grilling some kind of meat. Din chuckled and paused long enough to buy two sticks. Grogu chirped happily when he handed both to the boy, and then he kept on his way.

Nevarro had certainly improved since the shoot out with Moff Gideon ages ago, and according to Karga it was only supposed to get better. Speaking of, he finally spotted the man standing in a plaza where⏤ Din paused and tilted his head. Even Grogu stopped eating to stare up at the statue. IG-11 was coated in bronze and stood tall in the middle of the plaza like decor.

“Ih.” Grogu chirped.

“Huh.” Din added. This was a new addition to Nevarro.

“Mando!” Karga cheered and he turned to greet the man who was dressed in ornamental robes. Din smirked to himself. It was good to see the power hadn’t gone to Karga’s head. “Welcome!” When Karga was close enough he held an arm out and Din didn't hesitate to clap his arm in a shake for greeting. “What brings you here?” Din didn’t respond and just tilted his head. “Right. Of course. How about we… handle these matters inside?”

Din motioned for the man to lead the way then followed. The building Karga led him into was just as ornamental and fancy as the robes he wore. Din once again had to resist the urge to laugh under his breath. They went all the way up to what he was assuming was Karga’s office.

“This is nice.” Din nodded.

“It is, isn’t it?” Karga dropped into his desk chair with arms outstretched. Din stayed silent and Karga’s grin and arms both fell. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

 Din shook his head, glad to have his helmet covering his wide grin and keeping his tone dry, “Mocking the Magistrate of Nevarro is beneath me.”

“High Magistrate.”

“Mhmm.” Karga waved his simple response away and dug through a drawer to find a few holopucks.

Din nodded toward them. “So, is it normal for the High Magistrate to still dabble in guild work?”

Karga shuffled through them. “Only sometimes, and only for my favorite hunters.” 

“Well, in that case, I’ll take the one that pays the most.”

“You always do.” Karga picked one puck out of the masses and activated it. A woman’s picture appeared and Din’s first thought was that you were pretty⏤ beautiful even. The High Magistrate said your name and Din wondered if he had heard it before. Something about it felt… familiar? No, that wasn’t it. Din shook his head. It hardly mattered. “She’s a tricky one, I should warn you. Many hunters have tried and failed, Mando. She works in the slave trade.”

Din huffed. That was proof that a pretty face wasn’t everything. No amount of good looks could wash away the sins of someone dealing in flesh. If Din had to pick a flavor of quarry he hated the most, it would be this kind.

The sound of laughter followed you down the ship’s ramp as you trailed out with a smile. The Mon Calamari crew you had managed to hitch a ride with gave you a hearty farewell, and when your feet hit the landing pad you spun to point at them with a smile of your own.

“Thanks for the ride, you guys! Stay safe, and keep Horchobua away from the spotchka,” You teased the navigator of the ship’s crew, “He was one bad round of sabacc away from owing me his first born.”

Another rowdy laugh from the crew, and the captain called back, “Stay out of trouble!”

“I always try!” You replied. It just never seemed to work.

The stars had aligned and luck was in your favor when you left Jakku. Circumstances that had startled you as it was far from the norm in your case. You had been able to get a lift from Jakku to Bespin. The city in the clouds that the Mon Calamari crew had dropped you off on was gorgeous. Though maybe you were that much more impressed since you were coming from a shitty desert world that made Tatooine look clean.

You readjusted the small cross body bag you wore over your jacket. The triangular shaped bag held literally everything you owned. A spare set of clothes, a cloth bag filled with a dozen holopucks, a datapad that only held a simple map on it, some toiletries, and a small, silver jewelry box you couldn’t get open. Everything else you owned was on your person. A simple, worn down shirt and pants that had seen better days. A thick jacket that you were able to strip on and off based on the weather⏤ though you usually kept it on since the back and arms had some armored padding. Boots that were close to falling off your feet from use. A metal dagger strapped to your right thigh, and a weapon tucked away into a shoulder holster under your jacket that you never used. It was a simple existence, but you didn’t mind it. Growing up with absolutely nothing to call your own, this was actually an example of you thriving. 

Over the last seven months, you had gotten very good at sniffing out cantinas. It was a gift. Some people could sing, some could paint, you could be dropped off into any city in the galaxy and you’d be able to find a cantina in under half an hour. It was a bit of an old talent to claim, but you’d take what you could get. When you stepped into the cantina, eyes drifted to stare at you. Unbothered by the attention, you winked at the closet patron and pressed in further. 

At the bar, you claimed the attention of the Twi’lek working today and ordered a drink. While he poured it, you leaned forward. “I’m looking for someone. A man named Reaper.” 

The bartender set your drink in front of you. His eyes darted to your neck before darting back up to your eyes. He shook his head. “No.” You tossed the right amount of credits on the bar along with a small tip. Before you could walk away, the Twi’lek stopped you. “Hey, that it?”

Rather than cause a scene, you tossed a few more credits on the bar and wandered away while the Twi’lek muttered in his native tongue behind you. You dropped down at a table in the back of the room which would give you a clear view of the entire space. Absentmindedly, your hand lifted to brush against the band of solid gold wrapped around your neck. Anytime people saw it they assumed you had more credits than you actually did. That wasn’t even the part that bothered you most. What you hated was the fact that the attention it drew made it very hard for you to forget about it.

You took a large swig of your drink and then leaned back in your seat to wait. The information you had included three facts. The informant you needed to find was called 'Reaper' which you personally thought was obnoxious. He was hiding away in a cantina every day for the same amount of hours waiting for customers. And, he would only offer you the information you wanted in exchange for information of equal value. You had the right kind of tip to trade, now you just needed to find the bastard.

For the first couple of hours, you just sipped on your drinks and people watched. It was how you killed time while in these cantinas waiting for a person who might not ever come. Right now, the bartender was hitting on a human woman who had absolutely no desire to reciprocate the action. Two Rhodians sat at the table beside you gossiping about work. The back booth had a Wookie, who you initially was concerned would be after you, but a Trandoshan had joined them and their interaction had all their attention on one another. Most, if not all, the patrons of this cantina were of the upstanding citizenship kind. The exact opposite of Jakku. In fact, you were the only armed person in the room. 

It was during that third hour that a new face wandered into the room. Though, calling this stranger a new face seemed redundant considering the helmet he wore left him faceless. A thrill went down your spine at the sight of him. Wow. Mandalorian. You had met a man in Tatooine who wore Mandalorian armor, but he told you it didn’t belong to him so you assumed that didn’t count.

This man was covered head to toe in polished, silver beskar armor. Seeing the rare metal made you realize why it was valuable. A cloak, shredded and torn at it’s end, hung from around his neck and you clocked every weapon you saw. Blaster on his hip. Incendiary grenades on his belt. Rifle shells on the bandolier across his chest and around his right calf⏤ though you saw no rifle. Vambrace with no visible weapon, but you’d garner a guess it hid one. Floating in behind him was a circular egg shaped pram. It was closed and you wondered what kind of dangerous tool he hid away in there.

The darkened, t-shape visor scanned the room and you realized it stopped right on you. What were the chances this dangerous looking Mandalorian, who wore a pair of binders on his belt next to the grenades, wasn’t here for you? 

You hadn’t been the only one to stop and stare at this towering man, and eyes seemed to follow him as he slowly crossed the room. Honestly, you were a bit insulted. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Did he think so little of you as a quarry? You knew you had a reputation. You had killed and escaped enough hunters to earn one. Yet, this bounty hunter didn’t hesitate while walking through a crowded room to arrest you. The absolute gall of this shiny Mandalorian.

He stopped right in front of your table⏤ a silent statue. You shifted on the bar stool and sat forward so your back wasn’t pressed against the wooden backing and the balls of your feet were planted on the floor. Your hand lifted out to your glass, and the Mandalorian reached for his blaster at the same time. You raised an eyebrow in question while slowly bringing the drink to your lips. As much as this last drink had cost you, you weren’t about to let a drop go to waste. The Mandalorian continued to stand stiff as his hand rested on his still holstered blaster.

Then came the words.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” 

The Mandalorian’s hoarse voice drifted through a modulator and you felt the hairs at the back of your neck rise in response. It was silly what this man’s voice alone had done. A whisper at the back of your mind said this was different. This was not the same as every other encounter you had with those words. Your stomach churned nervously. Fear clawing its way up into your chest. Please, no. Maker, no, no. Not now. Don’t let this be the moment. 

“Would you really arrest your soulmate?” You replied, and you hated how the words came out hushed and quiet rather than confident and bold like you usually said them. The Mandalorian didn’t flinch. He didn’t do anything. The fear began to diminish and you let out a sigh of relief. Thank the Maker. He wasn’t your soulmate⏤ he was just an intimidating Mandalorian with a very attractive voice. You knew how to deal with that. Pasting a smirk on your lips, you shrugged. “You scared me for a second there, Mandalorian.”

You shoved the table forward, as hard as you could, while leaping up. It slammed into the man’s abdomen right below where his beskar chest plate provided protection. A grunt of pain left him as he doubled over, and you quickly grabbed the bar stool you sat on and swung it around to hit the Mandalorian. It made contact with his shoulder’s pauldron and helmet. The bar stool exploded into shards of wood⏤ losing it’s battle against the beskar⏤ but it succeeded in knocking the man to the ground. Without missing a beat, you sprinted for the door and then out into the night air. Based on that interaction, Mandalorians weren’t nearly as tough as the rumors stated, but, unlike him, you weren’t going to underestimate your opponent.

You didn’t slow your pace, slipping in and out of darkened alleys, and breathed a sigh of relief.

That had been close.

The pram floated closer, doors open, and Grogu leaned out to stare down at him in question, “Buir?”

Din laid on his back staring up at the ceiling in shock. ‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’ Dank farrik. Shit. He let every single other curse word he knew ring through his mind and still it wasn’t enough. Soulmate. He found his soulmate. Din had a bad feeling the moment he stepped into the cantina and spotted you sitting at a table alone. The bounty puck didn’t do you justice, and Din had felt drawn in by your magnetic gaze. It only got worse when he got closer. He should’ve taken that as a hint and left⏤ called Karga from hyperspace and let the man know that he was turning down the bounty.

But, no. Din made the egregious mistake of speaking to you, and his punishment had been your timid response. Your voice was quiet, and it felt like a soft caress. An intimate whisper. In moments of weakness, he always wondered what those words would sound like, but he never imagined what fate actually gave him. Din had been starstruck. Face bright red in warmth yet frozen in disbelief as his mind reeled for an answer. 

You spoke once more, this time voice filled with confidence that matched the smirk you suddenly adorned, and before he could even register your words you were attacking him. If anybody Din knew had seen the fight⏤ if it could even be called that⏤ he’d have to hang up his armor and die in shame. It was embarrassing how easily you bested him with a table and bar stool, and if you hadn’t caught him so off guard it never would've happened. 

Grogu had hopped out of his pram and now stood on Din’s chest so his small, green hand could repeatedly pat his helmet in question. Technically, his son had seen that display, and for the first time he was glad Grogu wasn’t fluent in Basic.

“Yeah, ad’ika.” Din groaned. “I’m okay.”

He rolled to sit up and realized the entire room was still staring at him. Din rose stiffly and set Grogu back into his pram. Awkwardly, he gave the room a small wave and cleared his throat. “Sorry.” For good measure, he tossed a few credits on the table that had knocked the wind from him and made his leave. Din paused outside the cantina and opened his mouth to heave an annoyed sigh, a curse slipped out with it, “Dank farrik.”

Din Djarin had found his soulmate.

Well, fuck.

mando'a translations:

ad'ika: little one /// buir: parent (father)

taglist: @onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl

(i've decided to start a separate list for this story b/c i just can't bring myself to post the AFS taglist in fear that someone on there doesn't want me spamming them with this story sorry i have anxiety lol)

[next chapter]

[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~

Be mine 🌸

Female bodied reader X Eren Jaeger

Eren comforts the reader, who's boyfriend isn't treating them right. Well, he has a few things to say (and do) about that...

Warnings: Cheating. Smut. Emotional abuse. 18+ only.

Eren’s brooding eyes snap towards his roomates bedroom door when he hears the muffled voices of you and your boyfriend. Your voices weren’t quite yells - yet. But it was abundantly clear that there was almost certainly a storm brewing. Ignoring it, he returns his emerald greens onto the manga book he was reading, silently telling himself not to pry. This would be the fourth argument you two had this week - and it was only Wednesday. Over the course of the month…? He’d lost count.

He pushed away the irritation that began to claw under his skin. He’d always secretly had a thing for you and he seen that his douche bag of a roommate did not treat you as well as he should.

He leasuirely turns the page, his usual calm exterior hiding his frustration as sure enough, the volume of your voices begin to rise through the wood of the door.

He tries to ignore it, focusing on the magnificent art work that brought his pages to life. But he couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind how much happier you’d be if you just left his ass and got together with himself.

When he hears your voice crack and an uncontrolled sob break through your lips, he leaps up with a sigh, scratching the back of his head and heading into his room. Hopefully by the time he has a shower and is dressed, the two of you would have hashed it out and made up.

Fat chance.

“You don’t even have sex with me anymore…” He hears you cry tragically as he passes by the door to his room. “Do you think I’m ugly now…? I’m desperate here!”

His eyes widen and hands form into a fist, his entire body freezing at the sound of you sobbing those words.

Are you - no. Is he for real?! You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. Funny. Caring. Strong… What the fuck is wrong with him?!

He shakes his chestnut brown head and storms into his room, unintentionally slamming his door a lot louder than he’d meant to.

Eren takes his time in the shower - allowing the steam and hot water to relax him and refocus his mind. Really, it had nothing to do with him.

So why couldn’t he shake you out of his mind?

He was relieved when he eventually got out, dried and dressed and he no longer heard the yelling. His eyes scanned the alarm clock next to his bed.

21:43

He’d been in the shower for a little over an hour. The warm water soaking into his skin and making it feel that extra bit soft. With a lazy yawn, he strolls to his door to pick up his book from the living room. He’s surprised to see you sitting on the couch, alone reading his manga.

“Hey.” He sounds, eyes wide as your beautiful form is melted onto the sofa.

“Oh, hey.” You sit up nervously, placing his book down. “Sorry Eren, is this yours?”

“Where is he?” Eren asks, walking into the room.

“…I don’t know.” You mutter.

He could see that spark behind your eyes becoming extinguished due to that Jack ass and he wasn’t going to just stand by and watch that happen.

He places his hands in this trouser pockets, leaning against the wall. His man bun a lot more loose than usual from his freshly washed hair; a couple of strands falling over his handsome face.

“You know… I think you’re gorgeous.” He admits without a care in the world.

You blink in surprise, not really knowing what to say. “I… Uh… Thank you, Eren. It means a lot.”

“I know.” He shrugs, slinking over to you and plonking himself down next to you, the weight of him making you sink slightly. “I couldn’t help but hear you arguing. If you ask me…” He turns his head to look at you - his dark smouldering eyes peircing your very being. “He’s an idiot.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you glance away shyly, your confidence well and truly in the back pocket of your boyfriend’s jeans - wherever they may be or who’s floor they’re on right now.

He returns his gaze ahead, arms splaying over the back of the couch, his left arm over your shoulders but not touching you.

“I’m sorry you heard us arguing.” You whisper.

“Doesn’t bother me.” He shrugs. “What bothers me is the burning question of why you’re even still with him.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have an answer. It’s a question you’d asked yourself all too often.

Whatever shower gel Eren uses rolls off him into your nose. A mixture of spiced sandalwood with a hint of teatree maybe? Whatever it was, it combined with the warmth of his skin, blanketing you with such compassion you could almost feel his increased heart rate as his eyes slyly drink you in.

“I heard other things, too.” He mutters, suddenly leaning his face close to yours with a smirk. “I can help you, if you want.”

“H-help me?” You heart palpitates and butterflies flutter within you, his demeanor totally changing into something you’d never seen from him before.

“I can make you feel good.” He explains with such simplicity, you were certain he couldn’t possibly be taking about what you thought he was.

Your vacant expression forces him to spell it out for you.

With his large hand cupping your face , he brushes his lips against yours his eyes then scanning your orbs for any resistance. All he can see is how startled you are; wanting to kiss him but your conscience holding you back.

“Let me take care of you…” He reiterates, his hand now slowly moving up your thigh. “In more ways than one.”

“E-eren…” You breathe, your logical thinking quickly being taken over by your now throbbing libido as this gorgeous man now gently slides his tongue into your mouth, catching your lips tenderly once he was fully inside.

He’s beyond elated when you return his affections, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair; your breathing rate quickened yet heavy. His tongue caresses yours, swirling and entwining, his throat buzzing with a low, short moan.

It’s a hurried kiss - your hands roaming each others face and hair with quick succession, your inhales and exhales pushing through your nostrils loudly, the both of you quickly becoming flustered.

Whether it were his alpha male DNA coming into play, or he got too fired up (maybe both) he ends up scooping you up with ease and carrying you, bridal style, into his bedroom. His lips never leave yours as he pushes the door closed with his foot behind hiny, reaching around and clicking the lock, before lowering you gently onto the bed.

He crawls over you, his breath heavy and eyes heavy lidded; his mouth finding its way to your neck and grazing it.

“Eren… I can’t. It’s not right…”

You hear yourself but it didn’t feel like it was you saying those words, your body screaming at you to just shut the fuck up.

“I’m just showing you how you should be treated.” He breathes, hand now roaming up your shirt. “You’re not doing anything. It’s all on me.”

Your moan that escapes you as he pulls at your nipple pushes him on the verge of crazed lust, his lips returning to yours as he rolls your breast around in his large palm, squeezing and pulling. It had been so long since you’d been touched in this way, your body craved it so badly. You found yourself grinding against his thigh, your kisses now desperate as you tug at his hair.

Somewhere within enjoying his touches and kisses, he’d removed your pants. You weren’t sure when, just one moment they were there, the next your legs were bare as his hand cups your crotch, your wetness soaking through the material of your panties.

“Eren…” You gasp, back arching at his warm skin - even through the material it felt so good.

His fingers hastily push them to the side with a groan, wanting nothing more than to have you fully. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible. Not with the thought of him looming over you like a shadow.

You cry out a lot louder than expected when his long finger slides into you, followed by a second, his thumb circling your external magic spot as he continued to nuzzle into your neck; kissing, whispering and biting.

“Do my fingers feel good inside you?”

You nod, your grip on the sheets tightening, your legs tensing and releasing as he begins to wiggle his digits.

He’d spent many-a-night imagining you under him like this. His long cock was solid, and you could feel his yearning for you pressing tightly against your thigh.

Your body is on fire as he works you, picking up speed as your insides suck him in, caressing him and begging for more.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous…” He hums, now looking down into your eyes. “Fuck… You’ve got me so hard.”

You whine loudly at his words, back arching and nails digging deeper into his matress. Your face is burning, boardering on hysterical as your untouched sex is so lovingly caressed.

“yes, Eren… It’s so good…” You sob, your mouth hanging open and your eyes clasping closed. “Ah~ Ah~~!”

“Fuck…” He marvels, watching you squirm at his charity.

“I’m going to… Already…” You warn, feeling suddenly full as the pleasure begins to get too intense.

“yes, cum baby…” He smiles softly yet devishly, his pace getting faster.

Your silent scream confirms your climax, your back springing and your insides clamping down, sprinkling his palm with your water as you swirl right down the drain and into the palm of Eren Yeager.

He watches you in sheer awe as you come undone, unweaving and unravelling at his mercy. Squirming and trembling, your body now under his control during those few seconds of unrestricted ecstasy.

You expected to be riddled with guilt when you’d come back to earth. But strangely you didn’t. It felt… Right.

“Do you feel better?” He mutters, his mouth caressing your shoulder.

You nod, speachless.

He removes his fingers reluctantly; placing them on his flat tongue. “You taste good too.” His tone has a bitter sting to it, you’re perfect, just like he’d always thought.

“Be with me. Leave him.” He states. “You deserve so much better. I want to be the one who takes care of you.”

You think about it for a moment. It makes so much sense to do so. But well, y/n… Whether you take him up on his offer or not - it’s up to you.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

What a Pair we Make

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: dd/lg dynamics (no age play, although he gives her lots of stuffed animals and cutesy things), daddy kink, spanking, kink negotiation, mentions of abusive relationships and bad childhood, edging/orgasm denial, PIV sex, fingering

Summary: A series of short scenes depicting a very loving growth and evolution of a dd/lg relationship with Marcus. 

A/N: There’s no plot to this. I just love, LOVE, LOVE writing conversations about kink negotiation and discussing kink and the cute sort of awkwardness they can carry. The following is just several related ‘slice of life’ scenes that don’t really connect other than the throughline of a kink relationship, inspired by some unhinged DMs with @littlebirdsbookshelf. It’s mostly soft, although there is some explicit smut in some scenes. Dividers are by @firefly-graphics. Please note: reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent and has trouble communicating when upset, although no specific diagnosis is ever mentioned. 

A Further Note on Setting: There is a scene in which these two go to the National Zoo, but the actual zoo I’m describing is based on the one I regularly go to, both for plot conveniences and because I do not want to spend hours looking at a Zoo map to write my dumb stories. And because rays are cool.

Masterlist

You fume as you stalk into your building, slamming the elevator button several times in rapid succession, as if you could solve all of your problems by hitting this one button.

You’re not sure who you’re mad at. The VP of Sales, for giving you a very public dressing down for your “leadership” on the doomed project you were handed two months into your employment, that–shocker–ended up being implemented poorly, with not enough resources to achieve all of your goals? Your boss, who didn’t say a goddamn thing during the worst Zoom meeting of your life, not sticking up for you or standing up for her team?

Or are you mad at yourself for the sum of your small mistakes and missteps early on, caused both by lack of leadership support and your own naivete? Are you angry at your idealistic optimism, charging headfirst into this job and happily taking on new responsibilities, not understanding that you were being handed this project because no one in their right mind would want it? Or… are you upset because, at the most critical moment, you couldn’t manage to form the words to actually speak up for yourself, choking on your successes and looking like an idiot in a meeting where it felt like everyone was out to get you? 

Of course, the easiest punching bag is always you. You, who’s always struggled in one way or another with fitting in, and now the entire sales team knows your name and hates you. You, who’d bounced around from dead-end job to dead-end job before finally landing this first big break–a tiny little cog in a massive organization, where anonymity is your friend, and you hide in plain sight behind massive spreadsheets and reply-all emails. When shit hits the fan, though, you stumble on your words, your tongue feels thick in your mouth and all the thoughts in your head can’t seem to find their way out of your mouth.

You’re not cut out for it, you decide as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival on your floor. You may as well quit, before they force you out. Which is fine, half the time you’re hardly a functional human being, let alone able to manage this failed project, the ire of your coworkers, and still somehow cook dinner for yourself. 

It’s too much.

The door opens with a bang, and you flounce into the living room and throw yourself down on the couch. Marcus’s shoes had been on the mat beside the door, so that means he’s home before you, probably in the bedroom changing out of his work suit into something more comfortable. The two of you have lived together for about three months now, and have slipped into an easy routine. 

Sure enough, in a few minutes, Marcus comes out of the bedroom, wearing track pants and a plain gray t-shirt. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says cheerfully, coming around the back of the couch and giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Mm,” you respond, shrinking away from him even though you crave his presence. You always do this–you push everyone away, isolate yourself, your own worst enemy. 

“Someone must’ve had a bad day,” Marcus remarks, not dropping his friendly demeanor. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m a failure,” you state dramatically. “Literally. This project is tanking, and it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Marcus says gently. 

“It is,” you insist. “And even if it isn’t totally my fault, even if the damn thing was doomed from the beginning, it doesn’t matter, because I’m being blamed. Very publicly, I might add.”

“Really?” Marcus sinks down on the couch next to you. “Where the hell is your boss in all of this?”

“It’s no secret that she’s scared to death of our VP,” you mutter. “She’ll never say a word against him.”

“That’s shitty management,” Marcus says, ire in his tone over your treatment. 

“Yeah?” you snap. “Well, it’s fucking happening, I don’t have any control over it.”

“Hey, I know,” Marcus replies. “It’s nothing against you, I was just saying–”

“Isn’t it?” you demand, your voice becoming high-pitched and shrill. “I might get fired, and it’s my fault.”

“I–I really don’t think that’s true, and even if it is–”

“I’m not cut out for this,” you say suddenly, putting your face in your hands. “I don’t think I’m one of these people who can handle the normal, day-to-day pressure of corporate America. I just don’t think I can. I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re plenty strong,” Marcus assures you. “You are.”

“I’m a basket case.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” you counter. “Remember last week when I freaked out when the store was out of zucchini, and I had to make an entirely new plan for dinner? Who does that?”

“Some people have a harder time with change,” Marcus points out diplomatically. 

“Ugh!” you cry. “You’re no help!”

“What can I do?” Marcus asks softly, touching your arm, trying desperately to forge a connection, and it makes you feel even worse for lashing out. Through all things, Marcus just wants to feel connected, and here you are, pushing him away because of your own personal bullshit. 

“I don’t know,” you cry out, just so frustrated with everything that you can no longer carry on a reasonable conversation about it. 

But then, almost unbidden, an image flashes through your mind. You blink several times in rapid succession to dispel it. No, that’s ridiculous. 

“What?” Marcus presses, noticing the change in your expression.

“N-Nothing would help,” you say. “It’s just my own personal shit that I have to work through.”

The image returns. You, laying in Marcus’s lap, getting the catharsis you need through something physical–

“Okay,” Marcus says, frowning. You can tell he doesn’t buy it. 

You can’t stop thinking about it, now. His hand coming down on you again and again, finally giving you a reason to let go of it all. No. Marcus wouldn’t. He doesn’t mind rougher sex, sometimes, but he’s hardly sadistic about it. Everything he does, he does for your pleasure and enjoyment. 

That wouldn’t be about pleasure or enjoyment. It would be about release. Just… being allowed to feel things instead of being stuck in your head. 

“You know,” Marcus says softly, “you can tell me anything. I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll want to hear it.”

You shake your head from side to side.

Except, your denial lets Marcus know that there is something on your mind. 

“I just want to understand,” he murmurs, his hand stroking a gentle path up and down your arm. 

“I don’t know what I need,” you mumble. “But I keep–I can’t stop thinking about–”

Marcus nods patiently, but doesn’t speak.

“I–I wonder if you would… spank me,” you say under your breath. 

Marcus’s eyebrows raise. “Come again?”

See? You knew he wouldn’t go for it. “Never mind,” you say, shaking your head again. “I just… I dunno, some kind of physical release feels like it could… help.”

“Hang on,” Marcus says. “Don’t dismiss it. Let’s talk.”

"It's stupid," you protest. 

"You haven't even given it a chance," Marcus points out. 

"It was a fleeting thought," you say. 

"Was it?"

"...No," you whisper. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"About being spanked?" Marcus asks. 

"About you. Um, spanking me. Not just in general. You," you clarify. Marcus is an integral component of this fantasy. You've never wanted this before, but something about this relationship with Marcus makes you want… something more. Something as-of-yet undefined and unexplored.

"About me?" Marcus asks, smiling. He scoots closer, putting his arm around you on the couch. "Tell me."

"I just feel… safe, with you. And sometimes I think about how you… take such good care of me. And it makes me want… I don't know."

"Makes you want… more?" Marcus supplies. 

"I don't know," you repeat quietly. "I'm not… I'm not wording this right, I can't find the words right now, I'm not in the right headspace," you murmur. "I'm stupid."

"That's certainly not true," Marcus says firmly. 

"I c-can't talk right when I'm having a rough day," you stammer. "It's too hard, I–"

"Then don't talk," Marcus says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. "I'm gonna ask you a few questions, and you can just nod or shake your head, okay?"

You sink with relief, nodding.

"Okay. Question one," Marcus says with a sheepish expression. "Do you want me to spank you?"

You can't keep eye contact, but you nod, looking down at your hands. 

"Okay," Marcus replies softly, reassuringly. "Next question. Can I trust you to say 'stop' or tap my leg if you need to stop?"

Another nod, still looking down.

"Last question," Marcus says, and you can hear his smile. "Do you love me?"

An easy one. You bob your head up and down rapidly, making eye contact and smiling for the first time that night.

Marcus’s smile widens. "I love you, too. And hey–I'm always here to help, okay? No matter what it is you need."

You nod again. 

Marcus scoots back, sitting back on the couch. "Come here," he instructs quietly. "Come lie across my lap."

You feel silly as you come to your stomach, face down in Marcus’s lap. You consider saying 'never mind,' but part of you is so curious, wanting to feel this so much, you don’t open your mouth. 

Marcus gently pulls your leggings and underwear down, and you inhale sharply. You didn't expect him to do that. It sends an extra frisson of desire down your spine.

"Still okay?" Marcus asks, noticing the small tremor. 

"Yes," you whisper. 

Marcus's fingertips gently trace up and down your cheeks. "How many should I give you? Ten?" he asks, his voice a little rougher than normal. Does he like this, too?

You think for a moment. Ten doesn't seem like enough, not if you want to really feel it. 

"Fifteen," you whisper. 

Marcus is quiet for a few moments. "Okay," he says. "Fifteen."

His fingers stop tracing you, and you automatically tense in anticipation. You count your breaths for stability–one, two, thr–

Marcus’s hand comes down on your left cheek and you squeak in surprise. It stings, but it's not too bad. It's the jolt that startles you more than anything. 

Another sharp sting on your other cheek, and you press your lips together and whine softly.

"Why are you being punished?" Marcus suddenly asks above you. 

Oh. You have no idea, you didn't think about this at all. 

Slap. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell me why."

You suck in a breath and try to think. One thought comes to you immediately. 

"Because I'm being stupid," you mumble bitterly, thinking of your inexplicable outburst earlier. 

Smack. "That is absolutely not it," Marcus says, his voice far more firm than it had been before. "I want you to really think about why for the rest of your punishment," he says, before dealing you another hard thwack on the alternating cheek. 

It already kind of hurts. He's done what, five? And you can already feel your cheeks burning with friction. You try to think about Marcus's question, you really do, but already your mind feels like it's emptying, unable to focus on anything but the sharp stings on your ass as Marcus deals out six, seven, eight, nine–

You start crying on ten. Huge, globular tears that run down your face as you sob in relief and pain. 

"Remember to say 'stop' if you need," Marcus reminds you, but he doesn't stop. His hand comes down for the eleventh time and you give up trying to staunch the flow of tears and simply cry loudly into the couch cushion.

After the twelfth, Marcus asks, "Now do you know why you're being punished?"

You don't. You shake your head as you continue to sob. 

Slap. "Because you're not being kind to yourself," Marcus says firmly. "And I can't stand to watch you beat yourself up over and over." Smack. "So it stops now, understand? I don't have any problems doing this again."

His hand pauses for a moment. "Tell me you understand," he says. 

"Yes," you sob, open-mouthed, as all the tension you've carried all day–or hell, much longer than that–breaks, and you feel like you're floating away when Marcus delivers the last devastating slap. 

The punishment has stopped, but you can't stop crying. You take huge gulping breaths of air as you try to get yourself under control, and Marcus is pulling you up and into his lap properly. 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can cry. You don’t have to try and stop yourself.”

You nod your thanks into his shirt, clutching at him desperately. 

“Shhh,” Marcus soothes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The two of you sit there for God knows how long. You, sniffling softly into Marcus’s shirt, and him holding you through it. The longer you sit there, the more you realize: the internal pain you’d been feeling has been washed away, replaced by a bone-deep sense of relief. 

Eventually, the tears subside, and a wave of gratitude washes over you. You close your eyes, breathing Marcus in. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Marcus asks quietly. 

“Yeah, actually,” you answer at the same volume. “I really do feel… better.”

“It helped?” 

You nod. “I just kind of feel… blank, and floaty.”

“That’s good,” Marcus says. 

“Did you–” you start. “Was that–okay? Like, it wasn’t too much, or… bad, or–”

“I don’t like causing you pain,” Marcus begins, and you cringe. “No, hang on,” he says. “But I do feel good when I give you something you want, or need, and it–it seems like you needed that, in a way. And,” he says, swallowing. “I, uh–” he ducks his head, chuckling.

“What?”

“Well, getting to spank you raw like that was… surprisingly hot,” Marcus admits, blushing lightly. 

You let out a watery laugh and tighten your hold on Marcus. A word escapes your lips, then. One word that, in hindsight, would change your relationship, your life, forever. 

“Daddy.”

Whispered, barely audible, muffled by his shoulder. More of a reflex than anything else. 

Marcus’s only reaction is a sharp intake of breath that he lets out slowly. His hand gently rubs up and down your back. You don’t think he’d heard, but then, just as quiet–

“I’m here. Daddy’s got you.”

“Can we talk?”

For a moment, you panic. That phrase has never heralded anything good in your life, ever. Seeing your alarm, Marcus quickly changes tactics. 

“Nothing bad, I promise. I wanted to talk about last night,” Marcus says, sitting down next to you. 

Oh. Right. Last night, when you’d asked Marcus to spank you out of nowhere after having a bad day. Well, technically, it wasn’t out of nowhere. It hadn’t been the first time that mental image wormed its way into your brain, but it’s not like you know how to actually talk about something like that. 

“I’m sorry if that was weird–” you begin.

“Not weird. I may be wrong–but I don’t think I am–” Marcus says, grinning, “–but liking to be spanked is very common.”

“I know,” you grumble, your face heating exponentially. “I’ve been on fucking Pornhub, too.”

Marcus laughs loudly. “Caught me,” he teases. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. “What, then?”

Marcus swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You… you called me something,” he says quietly. “And I can’t get it out of my head.”

You don’t say anything right away, waiting for Marcus to continue. Eventually, he does. 

“I hear it in my head every five minutes, I swear,” he says with a little huff of laughter. “And all I know is that I wish I could hear you say it again.”

“Daddy?” you whisper with a small smile.

You don’t miss the way Marcus shudders. “I don’t know why I like that,” he laughs softly. 

“I may be wrong, but I don’t think I am,” you say with a grin, mirroring Marcus’s earlier statement, “but liking being called ‘Daddy’ is pretty common.”

“Touche,” Marcus murmurs, grabbing your hand and kissing your palm. 

“What a pair we make,” you say softly. 

“I think we make the perfect pair,” Marcus protests. 

“I like calling you ‘Daddy,’” you admit, your voice barely audible. “You–you take such good care of me. I’ve never felt more… safe, with anyone,” you tell him. “I know I’ve mentioned that my, uh, my childhood wasn’t a great one. My mom… she fled an abusive relationship in the middle of the night and took only me and what she could carry,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “I remember fucking crying because I had to leave all my stuffed animals behind. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing? We were fleeing for our lives, and my dumbass was worried about–”

“Shh,” Marcus hushes you quietly, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You were a kid. You didn’t know.”

“Anyways,” you mutter, “I spent the next, I dunno, twenty years? Feeling unsafe and unmoored, and now suddenly there’s–” you swallow, “–there’s you, and it’s the healthiest, most positive relationship I’ve ever had, and I feel like I can finally… exhale. Does–does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Marcus murmurs, between kissing your forehead and temples over and over again. “Yes, honey, it does.” He’s quiet for a while, the both of you just existing together in the moment, reveling in the security of Marcus’s arms. After a long while, he speaks again. 

“What was your favorite? Of the things you left behind,” Marcus asks you softly. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing softly. “I had this bunny. It came with a book that I loved–The Velveteen Rabbit. My mom used to read it to me, and I’d just flip through and look through the pictures when I was alone,” you tell him. 

“What happened to the book?” Marcus asks, but you can tell from his tone that he already knows the answer.

“It’s long gone,” you say wistfully. “Wish I knew what edition it was.”

Marcus abruptly pulls you into his lap for a crushing hug. “I’m glad you feel safe with me,” he says, emotion choking his voice. “Please, always feel that way.”

“I will, Daddy,” you whisper, burying your head in Marcus’s neck. “I really, really will.”

You don’t know why it surprises you that, in less than a week, Marcus has a gift for you. Coming home from work, you walk into your bedroom to change into some sweatpants, and nearly fall to the ground at the sight that awaits you.

On the bed, propped up on the pillows, sits a simple brown stuffed bunny with large, floppy ears that look impossibly soft. And, sitting next to it, is a book with an old, worn cover. 

You gasp and surge forward to pick it up, flipping open the front cover and raking your eyes over the title page. The Velveteen Rabbit.

“It’s a first edition,” comes a soft voice behind you. 

You spin, and Marcus is leaning in the doorway, watching you with a small smile. 

You pick up the rabbit next–it feels just as soft as it looks–and hug it to your chest, burying your face in its soft fur. 

You don't remember the last time someone purchased something so simple and yet so meaningful. 

You look at Marcus with unnaturally shiny eyes. "Daddy…" you whisper with a watery smile, "I love it."

"Come here," Marcus says, and you don't have to be told twice. You stride forward, bunny still clutched tightly to your chest, and allow yourself to be wrapped in Marcus's arms. 

"Thank you," you whisper into his chest. 

"You might not have gotten what you needed, what you deserved as a child," Marcus murmurs into your hair, "but that won't happen with me."

Your breath catches at the quiet ferocity in Marcus's tone, but at the same time, a little sliver of doubt worms its way into your brain. This isn't his responsibility, it says. This is too much of a gift for him to possibly give you. 

"You don't have to, I dunno, take care of me or anything like that," you tell him in a small voice. "I don't want to just be a… a burden."

Marcus huffs a laugh, as if you'd just said something incredibly ridiculous.

"Oh, honey," he chuckles, "I've never wanted anything more."

It doesn’t happen all at once–there are many more funny, sometimes awkward discussions where you and Marcus hash things out, negotiating this new side of your relationship. 

The crux of all of them, though, is that, for the first time, you feel safe just being… you. You start to indulge more in the little things that bring you joy–things that you might have dismissed as frivolous or silly before, but now that Marcus is really paying attention, he notices.

Like he notices one day in the supermarket, when the two of you are buying groceries for the week, how your eyes linger on a bin of stuffed toys near the checkout. Already in line, your cart full of groceries, you look down at them, one hand reaching out briefly to touch a cute little avocado with big, sparkling eyes and a tiny smile. Something in its goofy expression makes you smile, giggling softly at the toy. 

Normally, you’d continue through the checkout aisle, putting down the stuffie with one last fond smile and returning to the task at hand, putting your groceries on the conveyor belt. When you turn, though, Marcus is watching you–with the same fond smile. 

“Here.” He picks up the same stuffed avocado you’d been admiring. “Is this one your favorite?”

“It’s–it’s nice,” you say, “but it’s fine, I mean–it’s silly, what am I doing to do with–”

“Let me spoil my baby girl,” Marcus murmurs in your ear. “Let Daddy spoil you, honey.”

He hands you the toy with a crooked grin and a quick kiss on the forehead, and you can't contain the happy smile that spreads across your face. "Thank you," you whisper. 

"Of course," Marcus answers softly. "Now help me with the groceries, hmm?"

As your comfort level grows, you realize that it’s not just about feeling a newfound sense of joy, getting to experience things that you’d lost out on as a kid. It’s not really about those things at all–it’s about safety. It’s about care, and protection. It’s not about the silly, blush-pink socks with little bows on the ankles that you like to wear around the house, kicking your feet as you type on your laptop, it’s about the care and the trust they symbolize. You’re safe to be completely and utterly yourself, to be vulnerable. You can allow yourself to slip back to a time where you felt the most vulnerable, except this time, Marcus is here to catch you. 

As much as you feel safe and fulfilled by your new dynamic, Marcus seems to thrive in it as well. Now that you’ve essentially given him license to lean into that part of him that just wants to take care of you, he doesn’t hold back. You know by now that Marcus likes to be given a direction, and now that he has this, he blazes forward with enthusiasm. Marcus likes to be useful, and it’s as if you’ve handed him the world’s most powerful tool. 

Marcus has always wanted to help you, whether by going to a few of your therapy sessions and holding your hand, or simply by being patient when you struggle to find your words. He’s one of the few people you’ve known that doesn’t try to finish your sentences or speak for you. 

It makes you finally start to feel comfortable in your own skin, like you’ve finally come to the realization that you don’t have to try to be any different, not even for Marcus. On hard days, when you need his touch but don’t necessarily have the words to ask for it, you know that all you need to do is gently butt your head into his arm or shoulder, and he’ll turn with a soft smile and kiss the top of your head while he winds his arm around you. 

You’ve never had anyone’s touch be so soothing.

Even still, there are bad days. Days where everything is too much and the words are caught in your throat and like the fighter you always have been, you push through it with sheer, stubborn bullheadedness until you collapse on the couch and draw a blanket over your head and breathe, like a little ghost haunting your living room for a little while. 

“Hi, honey.” The words are always so soft-spoken, like he’s afraid he’ll startle you, as if you hadn’t heard the click of Marcus’s key in the lock moments before. 

“I’d like to try something, is that okay?” he asks, and you nod. 

“Can I see that pretty face?”

After a few more breaths, you lower the blanket and are greeted with the warm, brown eyes of your partner, and, in spite of yourself, you smile a little. 

“There she is,” Marcus says softly. “My little girl.” He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Will you follow me?”

When you nod, Marcus stands and walks to the bedroom with you in tow. When he strips off his shirt, you look at him warily. You can’t, you think. The sensory overload would be…

“Do you trust me?” 

You nod for the third time, and Marcus approaches you and gently pulls your shirt over your head as well. 

“Come lay with me,” he says, taking your hand and pulling you with him as he gets on the bed.

You allow yourself to be enfolded into Marcus’s arms with a shaky sigh. He gently pulls you on top of him, so that you’re laying fully on his chest, and his hand trails up and down your spine. You have to admit it, the feel of Marcus’s bare, warm chest against your cheek and the rise and fall of his breaths is already starting to loosen the tight coil of tension in your body. 

Your eyes fall closed and you surrender to the feeling of being surrounded by Marcus. He doesn’t speak until your breaths lengthen and the muscles in your shoulders start to relax.

“I read this study a while back,” he murmurs, and you feel the words against your cheek when he speaks, “that skin-to-skin contact affects adults just as much as it does infants. There’s a whole range of physiological responses–heart rate goes down, blood pressure goes down, cortisol, anxiety levels, pain…” he huffs a little laugh, running the backs of his fingers up and down your neck. “I told myself I’d try it the next time you were having a hard day.”

You smile and tighten your hold on Marcus. “Such a scientist,” you murmur. “Testing hypotheses and whatnot.”

Marcus chuckles, and you smile too.

“It’s not a good study,” you tell him. “Your sample size is one.”

“Well,” he concedes with a smile. “Then we’ll have to do this again.”

You do. It becomes a habit on bad days, so much so that all you need to do is nuzzle your face into Marcus’s chest and tug at his shirt and he'll chuckle affectionately, pulling you over to the couch and letting you lounge, topless, against his bare chest as you watch a movie with the sound turned low. 

It's never sexual, even with your breasts exposed and your nipples pebbling in the cool air. There's always a clear distinction between this, the loving way in which Marcus cares for you on bad days, and the times when you're intimate. Before Marcus, you'd never paid all that much attention to non-sexual touches, but this man seems to thrive off of touching you. He has an uncanny ability to make something as tame as a caress of your shoulder into something highly erotic, while at the same time showing you that even touching an intimate area–like the way his hand gently rests on the underside of your breast as he holds you–can be comforting and chaste. 

"Daddy," you whimper pitifully. "Just… just a little longer, just a little more, just–argh!" You let out a cry of frustration as the little vibrator leaves you again and Marcus pauses the timer on his phone. 

"Four more minutes," he announces. 

"I can't go four more minutes," you whine.

"You said that at ten minutes, too," Marcus teases. 

"You always say you like to spoil me," you pout. "Why are you making me wait?"

"I am spoiling you," Marcus counters playfully. "Think about how good it will feel when you're finally allowed to come." 

You writhe uselessly on the bed, your hands restrained loosely above your head by a pair of lacy pink cuffs with little bows on them. They're only velcro; you could pull out of them easily, but you hardly want to. You know how much Marcus likes the look of you like this, and you get off on the feeling of perceived helplessness. 

"Besides," he says, rubbing soothingly up and down your inner thigh. "Oh, how I love seeing you beg for me. I love seeing you like this. Daddy's little mess."

Marcus touches the little vibrator to your clit and restarts the timer, and you keen in frustration as you try to keep yourself under control. "C'mon, just four more minutes," he says. "You can do it."

Fifteen minutes, he had said, holding up your little vibrator. Fifteen minutes of this before you're allowed to come. 

You've somehow managed to last eleven without completely breaking apart, but the last four minutes are torture. You're so close to the edge that he has to pause every thirty seconds or so, and whenever he pauses, so does the timer.  

"Two minutes," Marcus murmurs gently. "You're doing so well. You're being so good for me, baby girl." He pauses the timer again and rubs his hand up and down your arm. "So good for me," he repeats quietly as you shake for him. "Catch your breath, it's okay."

The next two minutes might last a lifetime. When he stops for what seems like the tenth time and you let out a high pitched whine of frustration, Marcus brushes the hair from your forehead and says, "You've got twenty seconds left. I'm not gonna pause again, but you have to be a good girl for me and hold it there the whole time without coming, can you do that?"

You nod, biting your lip with determination. "Okay, Daddy," you whisper. 

"Good girl," Marcus whispers back. 

He restarts the timer and you try to take deep, even breaths, not allowing your body to do what it wants and fall off the edge. It feels impossible, especially when Marcus announces fifteen and then ten, and it feels like you can't possibly last another second. He starts counting slowly down from five, four, three, but your body is already seizing up as you fight the inevitable. The heat rises inside of you, and all you can do it grit your teeth and hope you can make it to one, when your mouth falls open and you start to come. 

Marcus drops to his elbow beside you, not moving the vibrator from your clit, and hovers close to your face, whispering little praises as your pussy clenches violently.

"Perfect," he soothes. "Perfect girl. See? It feels so good when Daddy makes you wait, doesn't it?"

You nod pitifully. "Thank you, Daddy," you whimper. 

"No, no," Marcus chuckles. "Thank you, baby girl. You do so well for Daddy."

"I want to feel you," you tell him softly. "Will you fill me up?"

Marcus smiles wickedly as he pushes his underwear down, freeing his cock. "Baby," he says with a chuckle, "Daddy will fill you up anytime you ask."

He lines himself up and, keeping his face close to yours, slowly pushes inside. 

"My girl's choice," he rasps. "Slow or fast?"

"Hmmm," you smile teasingly, thinking about it for a moment. "Slow."

"Oh yeah? You like it when Daddy takes you apart inch by inch, don't you?" He asks as he reaches the deepest point within you.

"Yes," you answer blissfully, tipping your head back as he starts to to thrust, undulating his hips perfectly slowly, just like you'd asked. 

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” Marcus says as he collapses onto the couch next to you.

“Oh! That bad?” you ask, curling into his side.

“No, just… really unbelievable. There was an elephant at my crime scene.”

Immediately, you pull back to look at him. “What?”

Marcus smiles at your reaction–from the glint in his eyes, you can tell he did it on purpose. “I swear. A real, live elephant.”

“Why?” you say with a little laugh.

“I was at the Smithsonian National Zoo,” Marcus explains, grinning. “One of the pieces the elephants painted was stolen.”

Now you’re even more confused. “The elephants… paint?”

“Yeah, you know, they train the elephants to hold a paintbrush, and they auction off the paintings for fundraisers,” Marcus says. “They’ve got a little gallery in the exhibit.”

“I’ve never been,” you say quietly. 

“To the National Zoo?” 

“To any zoo.”

Marcus’s lips part, and for a moment his eyes are sad–mourning for something you never had in the first place, before he perks up, realizing that now he gets to be the one to show you. 

“Well,” he announces. “We’re just going to have to change that, aren’t we?”

Just a few short days later, you’re wiggling with excitement next to Marcus as you stand in line outside of the zoo. 

“Excited?” Marcus teases.

“Yes,” you answer matter-of-factly, not bothering to hide it.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle as he grins. “Good. Where to first?”

Your eyes flit from sign to sign as you enter, momentarily overwhelmed by your choices and unsure of where to begin, before something catches your attention, and you know exactly where you want to go. 

“Aquarium!”

You love it from the moment you walk in, taking in the darkened room lit by the otherworldly glow of the water. The first large glass window you come to contains an entire coral reef, with hundreds of different types of fish and one very ugly green eel that makes you giggle.

“Look,” you whisper in awe, hardly able to tear your eyes away. “Daddy, look.”

“I am looking,” Marcus says beside you, but when you turn, he’s not watching the fish at all.

He’s watching you. 

“What?” you pout.

Marcus smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing, baby girl.” 

His hand is always a comforting weight at the small of your back as the two of you stroll slowly through the gallery, until you come to a room with one large, open tank with low walls. Lips parting in surprise, you rush forward to look. It’s full of rays, swimming slowly, moving majestically and gracefully around the tank. 

“You can touch them,” Marcus says beside you.

“What?” “The rays. You can touch them.”

You finally notice that many of the people around the tank have their hands submerged up to their elbows.

“No way,” you whisper. 

“Yes, ray,” Marcus jokes beside you, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“Daddy.”

Marcus chuckles and you step forward, leaning over the tank and slowly sliding your hand into the water.

“I’m afraid I’m going to freak out if one of these things touches me,” you say with a giddy smile. “Do you think they’re slimy?”

Marcus shrugs. “I dunno, I’ve never touched one.”

“Stick your hand in the water.”

“You first,” he laughs. “Look, here one comes.”

You press your lips together with excitement as one of the rays swims along the side of the tank toward the two of you. It passes just under your hand, and you gasp as you feel its skin below your fingertips.

“Oh,” you exclaim softly. “Oh, that’s weird.”

"Weird?" Marcus laughs. 

"Yeah, it's like, the smoothest thing I've ever felt, but it's soft and spongy."

"That is weird," Marcus says, his nose crinkling. "Hey, look, it likes you."

Sure enough, the ray turns around and comes by for another pass, one fin gently splashing the side of the tank as it swims by. It does it again and again, and you watch it with a disbelieving expression. 

"Believe it or not, rays are quite social," a zookeeper says, noticing your odd companionship. "They can be playful, splashing people to show off, and they can form bonds."

"It does like you," Marcus breathes, watching the ray swimming underneath your fingers. 

"That one's been through the ringer," the zookeeper comments. "It was rescued from a fishing net. See the big scar on its fin?"

You blink, looking at a line of darkened skin that you'd thought was simply color variation. "Oh," you whisper. "Poor thing."

"She's usually not very social," the zookeeper says. "I've never seen her do this."

"Is that right?" you say, smiling softly. "Are we friends?"

You stay there for a long time, until your fingers are pruny, in awe of the strange friendship. 

Marcus, as always, is patient, and ends up chatting with the zookeeper, who's happy to share information about her research to the two of you.

"Hey," Marcus finally says, with an amused smile. "We've got a lot more zoo to see."

"I know," you say quietly, strangely reluctant to leave. 

"This isn't the only time," Marcus assures you softly. "We'll be back."

Smiling sheepishly, you nod and withdraw your hand from the water, waving goodbye to the ray. 

"That was the weirdest thing," you say with a laugh. 

"That was adorable," Marcus hums, kissing your cheekbone. 

The two of you walk through the rest of the zoo, you tucked into Marcus's side as you look at every exhibit. Finally, you find yourself back where you started at the entrance. 

"C'mere," Marcus says, grabbing your hand. "One more thing."

He pulls you into the gift shop, smiling as you take in every conceivable type of stuffed animal lining the shelves. 

"Pick your favorite," Marcus says. 

"I don't know if I can narrow it down," you say with a laugh, overwhelmed with the sheer number of choices. But you walk up and down the aisles, looking at seals, tigers, penguins, orangutans, and sloths. They're all so cute. You bite down on your lip, looking around as you consider, and then you see it. 

Back in one corner of the store, an entire shelf dedicated to… 

"This one," you whisper, picking up a stuffed southern ray. 

"How did I know?" Marcus chuckles. 

You pause, a decades-old cycle of doubt worming its way into your brain. "Are you sure?"

Marcus frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You always get me so many things… you spoil me too much."

Marcus raises one eyebrow in challenge. "I don't spoil you too much. I spoil you just the right amount."

He gently takes the ray from you, pays for it, and hands it back. He's quiet on the walk to the car, and it's making you uneasy. 

"Daddy… are you mad?"

"What? No. God, no. I just…" Marcus sighs, leaning against the car. "I hate to think that you see this as spoiling you, baby girl. I don't see it spoiling you. I see it as giving you everything I want to give you. Everything you deserve."

"Daddy," you breathe, starting to tear up. 

"You're everything to me," Marcus says quietly. "So I'm gonna give you everything. And if all I have to give in exchange for literally everything I want in my life is a few stuffed animals? Baby, you're getting the raw deal, here."

You laugh a watery laugh. "His name's Pancake, by the way."

"Pancake," Marcus chuckles, opening the car door. "That's cute, baby girl. Did you have a good time?"

"Of course I did," you answer. "I always do with you, Daddy."

"Daddy, aren't you going to bed?"

Marcus gives you an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, baby, Daddy’s got a big press conference tomorrow and I'm nowhere near prepared."

"Oh," you say, disappointed. "But I'm really tired."

“That’s okay, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

“But I miss you when you’re not there,” you pout.

Marcus looks up from his laptop with a wry smile. “You want Daddy to come tuck you in?”

You let out an involuntary shiver at his words. 

"Yes, please," you whisper. 

He grins. “Go get ready for bed, then. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You giggle and hop up from the couch, hurrying to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You throw on your favorite tank top to sleep in, leaving only your underwear on the bottom. As you’re getting into bed, Marcus comes in and sits beside you on the bed. He kisses you unhurriedly, taking his time moving his lips sensually against yours. You sigh into his mouth–he’s such a good kisser. Just as you start to lose yourself in the act, Marcus smiles against your lips.

“Lay down, baby girl.”

You obey, smiling dazedly up at him as your head hits the pillow.

“What’s Daddy’s rule?” Marcus asks softly. 

“Don’t move,” you answer dutifully. 

“That’s right. Get nice and comfortable for me.”

You arrange yourself half on your side, half on your stomach, with one leg bent to the side and Pancake tucked under one arm. 

“Good girl,” Marcus whispers. His fingertips trail down your spine, over the fabric of your underwear, and then down, where he gently pulls them to one side to allow his other hand to touch. He sucks in a breath when he dips his fingers dip shallowly into your pussy, collecting your slick and rubbing it onto your clit. “Always so wet for Daddy, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you sigh contentedly into your pillow as Marcus starts rubbing in slow circles..

“My perfect girl, do you like it when I play with you?” he teases.

“Of course I do, Daddy,” you answer. “Would like it better if you gave me your c–”

“Shh,” Marcus chastises. “Not tonight, baby girl. I’m just trying to help you relax.”

You whine softly and shift your hips impatiently, and Marcus stops. 

“No, no,” he chuckles. “Stay still for Daddy.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, taking a deep breath and letting it out as Marcus’s fingers start to move achingly slowly on your clit. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Marcus soothes. “You’re doing so well for me. Look at how relaxed you are. You look so sweet, lying there and letting me take care of you.”

Your breath starts to come in pants, and you have to fight to keep yourself still as the pressure inside you starts to rise. 

“That’s it,” Marcus whispers. “Nice and slow.”

Marcus is a patient man. He doesn’t rush toward your climax; he never speeds up the movement of his hand. He slowly builds you up until the fall becomes inevitable.

Your hands tighten into fists when Marcus finally pushes you over the edge; your mouth falls open and a little, ragged whimper comes out. Other than that, you don’t move a muscle as you come undone, and it brings all of your focus to the way your pussy clenches over and over again.

“Good,” Marcus whispers. “Good girl.” He gently pulls your underwear back into place and covers you with the blanket. “I love you so much, baby girl,” he whispers into the skin of your temple. 

“Daddy,” you say softly, your eyes already closed. “You do a really good job. You take such good care of me.”

Marcus is quiet for a minute. “I’m glad,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. Clearing his throat, he adds, “I’ll be with you soon.”

His lips ghost against your temple once more before you hear him padding out of the room. 

[ellecdc]

to that one anon and anyone else who needs to hear it, something learned throughout this past year is that school is not as important as everyone makes it out to be

i get that it’s hard with parents and stuff, and i’m not just flat out telling everyone to drop out of school on a whim, but i’m just gonna drop my story and if it helps people then so be it!!

for the past 2 years of my life, i was absolutely 100% sure that i wanted to be a mortician. i had an entire five year plan in my head by the time i was 16. everything came crashing down once i went to college. i never did well in school in general on account of pretty severe mental health issues/adhd, and the mortuary program at the school i went to definitely was… not the best to say the least.

i failed every class except one my first semester. i thought it was just the typical fucking around my first semester, then it got worse, and it greatly started to effect my mental health. after a month or two of talking to my mom and my therapist about it, i decided to formally drop out in february. i got a job in the floral department of a grocery store in march, and im starting to realize i genuinely love working with flowers, and it might be what i want to do in the future (plus i don’t have to go back to college for it lol)

but what i’m trying to say is when you first go to higher education you’re still a kid and you’re confused and you’re probably living away from home for the first time and there is a 99% chance you don’t know what you’re doing or what you wanna do!!! and that’s okay!!! you’re also allowed to just work and get life experience for a few years, and go back to school whenever YOURE ready!!! and sometimes you realize school isn’t the answer and that is also okay!! literally no matter what you do you are all going to be fine <33

everything about this *snapping fingers like I'm at a poetry slam*

you go to school because you're supposed to get something out of it - the more it starts taking from you the more you should consider if you're in the right place

you can also always go back to school later if it's super important to you [I'm old as shit and doing another BA, there are no fucking rules when it comes to this!!]

don't force yourself to follow a path/timeline that someone else created - it may not actually be for you at all

[blossom-works]

Ruckus in the Castle

Part of my Hades series

---

When you married Hades, your official duties as queen began the day after the wedding. Thankfully, your husband’s competence has allowed you to have an easy integration as queen. It has also allowed you to continue your work as a goddess. Once a week you go up to the mortal world and do away with anyone as you see fit. Your titles as Queen of Helheim and the Goddess of Life and Death are quite convenient. Any humans who you see unfit for humanity due to their wickedness, you can properly punish in your domain. 

This has been your life for the past centuries. It can get boring too. Doing the same thing repeatedly. You guess this is one of the downsides of being immortal. You get tired of doing the same thing over and over again. The only thing that is making your life bearable is your husband and humanity. The humans like to keep you on your toes. Their endgames may be the same, but the road to get there is always different. This trait of theirs is what makes you miss your human years. But then there are the bastards that make you glad you are a Demigod. 

In the span of thirty minutes, you cleansed yourself of today’s workload. You had asked Hades to leave you alone, but not in annoyance. Your husband knew how hard you work as queen and goddess, so he sent you off to bed with a kiss and a small smile. If you knew your husband well enough (which you do), you are sure he is in the king’s chamber to read a book. Your smooth legs rub against the soft fabric of the sheets and cover. It feels like the bed is welcoming you in its comfort. Head on your pillow, you can feel your conscious slipping away. It seems your fellow Gods love to mess with you because a huge explosion erupts the entire castle. 

Sitting up, you contemplate what you should do. Should you get up and investigate what the hell is happening, or should you try to go back to sleep? Thinking about it more, your husband is still up and there are the palace guards. Ehh, let your husband deal with whatever it is. You are tired. You slam your body back onto the bed and pull the blanket to cover the bottom half of your face. Once again when you are about to enter dreamland, your husband enters the room. Oh, how you hate how tonight is going. You were not annoyed with your husband before, but now you are. Sitting up with a huff you watch hades take off his...tattered coat?

“What the hell happened to you?” You are more surprised than worried for Hades. Mainly, you want to know what is keeping you from going to sleep.

“Sorry love, the ‘Mad Demon in Helheim’ came for a visit.”

Ahh. You and Hades have heard about this rumor, which, apparently is no longer just a rumor. A person who has defeated your men again and again. When you heard about this, you were about to investigate, but Hades told you to let it go. Whomever this “Mad Demon” is will eventually reach the castle. Then, Hades himself will deal with them. 

Changing into his night robe, Hades tells you about Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies. The man came to Helheim in search of Hades himself to be killed. This astonishes you because no one has ever come into the palace with the sole purpose of dying by Hades’ hand. Hades tells you that the purpose of Beelzebub’s ambition is because of a “curse” a woman named Lilith bequeathed him with. Hades had informed the man that the “curse” is in fact, not a curse, but a prayer. He then scolded Beelzebub about how he should live his live to the fullest instead of trying to end it so fast. How Beelzebub should honor Lilith’s prayer and not dishonor it. Then Hades proceeded to scold the man about how if you gave a prayer like that to Hades, your husband would do all he can to honor it. 

While the last part did warm your heart, your tiredness demands your husband to finish his story so you can go to sleep. Robed, Hades sits on the edge of the bed on your side to kiss your forehead. 

“I told him that if he still wishes to die, he should come back for another fight.”

“You told him...you know what? Sure, dear.” Your head is now resting on Hades’ shoulder. His arm is wrapped around your waist to bring your bodies closer together. Laughing through his nose, Hades nudges your head with his to get you to look up to him. Tired, you grant his wish. 

A soft, quiet moment is shared. Often, you two comfort the other with your presences. Nothing to be said, just felt. When you have free time you sit on Hades’ lap in the throne room. His arm is always locked on to you when this happens. He has no intentions of letting you go. Every now and then Hades will whisper sweeting nothings in your ear. Telling you how much he loves you and sometimes, explicit things...

Lowering his shoulder and head, Hades seizes your lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow and never ending. Your heads move back and forth and side to side. Hades’ free hand cups your cheek, bring your lips closer. The weight of his body pushes yours flush against the bed. The size difference can be seen from how Hades’ body completely covers yours. 

Still, the kiss is sweet. There are no intentions of taking things further. Right now, your husband just wants to love you in the sweetest and purest way possible. 

Gripping on the back of the robe, you reluctantly pull him away. As much as you love your husband and kissing him no less, your eyes are starting to feel heavy. Understandingly, Hades presses on last kiss on your slightly swollen lips. With his thumb he caresses your cheek and watches you finally reach dreamland. Gently, he pushes himself off of you and lays on his side of the bed. Situated, he pulls your body to his, gently turning you to face him. 

“Goodnight, dearest.”

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which Cullen has accidentally become invested in.

Supplemental material for Unwanted, from the perspective of Cullen. In this addendum, Cullen discovers he's not the only one Trevelyan has met.

(Masterpost. Addendums. Words: 879. Rating: all audiences. Warning: addendums may contain spoilers for Unwanted and are best read after finishing the story entirely.)

Chapters 11-13, Addendum

“Oh, Cullen!”

Cullen halted in his tracks, midway through the rotunda, and glanced up. On the balcony above, Dorian—as he always did—looked down on him.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked. “Free for a game of chess?”

Cullen sighed, and tucked the reports he carried under his arm. “I can’t; I’m on my way to speak to Josephine.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Wasn’t he supposed to be walking with one of those women, tomorrow? “I’m not sure I—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Cullen relented. “Fine, tomorrow.” Probably wouldn’t take that long to beat him, anyway. Depended on how egregious the cheating was.

Shaking his head, he waved it—and Dorian—off, and started for the door.

“Wait! Wait a moment!”

Again, Cullen halted in his tracks. Dorian’s feet came thudding down the stairs, and he appeared before Cullen with a smile.

“I wanted to ask you something—have you met that Lady Trevelyan?” he wondered.

“Obviously,” said Cullen, well aware—even if he was not—that Dorian had been present at the very gala which constituted the initial occasion.

“Ah, good. Because I like her,” Dorian said, “so you had better be treating her with some grace and respect. If you can manage that.”

Whatever Dorian had just said, it didn’t go in—because the sheer fact he had said it meant something else entirely.

Cullen stared at him. “Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“Did you inform her about red lyrium?”

Dorian’s smile grew. His response, however, was interrupted—by the slam of a shutting door.

“Don’t give him all the credit,” said Varric, striding in at just the right moment. “She read my book. And you should know, Dorian, that she liked it.”

Dorian groaned, and rolled his eyes. “Well done, your circulation has finally reached double digits! You must be so proud.”

Varric grinned. “I am. After all, I’m the foremost scholar on red lyrium.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“Is it still annoying you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, no.”

Cullen cleared his throat, and ended their bickering. “Have you both spoken to her?”

“Yeah,” Varric confirmed. “Nice lady. Industrious, too. Probably knows half of Skyhold, by now.”

It certainly seemed that way, with how seamlessly she’d blended in to the servants attending the delivery this morning. Maker, he could only hope she hadn’t met Sera, yet.

“You haven’t… told her anything about me, have you?” he asked, nervous of the answer.

“Why in the world would we do that?” Dorian teased, before admitting: “Only the essentials.”

“Which are?”

“That you’re a bit of an ass,” Varric informed him. “You’re a decent guy, sure, but also a bit of an ass.”

Oh, then no wonder she seemed so short with him earlier, reacting as if he had slighted her somehow, and not his soldiers! Because before he’d even had chance to acquit himself honourably, they had assured her of his guilt.

“Thank you for that,” Cullen muttered. “Look, I should really be going. Josephine is waiting.”

They at last relinquished him from their chatter, and he escaped into the Great Hall. Beyond the door, he shook his head. It was bad enough, what with Josephine meddling in his life. Not them, too! (Maker, he really hoped Lady Trevelyan had not met Sera.)

Irregardless, he continued, slipping into Josephine’s parlour. She greeted him on arrival, and sent away the messenger she spoke to, so that they would have a moment of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I am afraid I have… news.”

Oh, good, it was that sort of meeting.

“What news?”

“Lady Trevelyan has expressed an interest in seeing you again,” Josephine told him.

Cullen’s face fell. “I thought she had no time, that she was busy helping the Inquisition?”

“She found time.” Josephine fixed him with a stare. “I suggest you extend her the same courtesy. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?”

Like disruption. Like time he did not have to give. He would have argued the point, and further, raised the issue of why she had not informed him of Lady Trevelyan’s belonging to the missing Ostwick delegation—but realised the answer was obvious: to prevent another argument.

However, there was also the fact that, if he were to raise the issue, then it would reveal to Josephine that he had spoken to her Ladyship about it. It might reveal that he knew the rest of the delegation was gone. And her Ladyship had not given him permission to reveal that.

Perhaps, then, it was not for the sake of arguments—or lack thereof—that he was not told. For the truth was, such pain was not some salacious gossip or dirty secret, to be passed around behind its victim’s back. So if that were, indeed, the reason it had been kept from him—he could abide by it.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Cullen repeated, “all right.”

Though his work was more important, it was not unimportant to see Lady Trevelyan again. There was a vague hope in Cullen’s chest that he could prove that he was not, in fact, ‘a bit of an ass’. And they could talk of work, anyway, so it would not be a waste.

Plus, it meant that he would have to reschedule his chess match with Dorian. Served him right.

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Wayward Waters Chapter 12

——————————————————————————

Hello everyone! Chapter 12!

time to explore more of the world!

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

have fun reading!

and as always Reblogs are appreciated! (Also ASK’s are open so feel free to bother me!)

AO3 Link for those that prefer the layout there;

AO3 Wayward waters

——————————————————————————

As expected I did wake up with the word Idiot on my forehead and a mustache drawn on me.

Though it was easily washed off before Yamet yelled that breakfast was done.

It consisted of eggs and thick slabs of bacon with some spices once again.

He really loved to use spices huh? But it was good.

Ronan stumbled in late, some rolled up papers in his arms,  probably maps from all over.

Did he find the one with Kamerasca?

“Sorry I'm late! I completely forgot that I did not sort my maps whatsoever!

…i may need help looking”

Of course, with how scatterbrained he was that was no surprise.

I'd help after I was done with breakfast.

Shoveling the rest of said breakfast into my mouth I followed Ronan, who simply grabbed his plate and took it with him, 

to a side room stuffed full of paper.

Not all of them were maps, a lot were his own observations on animals and plants and whatever else he found, including Imugi.

Worst of all was they were on the floor too and literally pouring out from shelves.

How in the fuck did he find ANYTHING in here?

Well considering the map was missing he didn't.

Yeah it would probably take hours, or even a day to find anything in here.

Suddenly Imik’s head popped in.

“You know, we should just ask to borrow one from someone else, besides are you SURE we even have one?”

Ronan stopped in the middle of shoving more of the paper into the shelves.

“Nope, no idea if we have it! 

Let's go to town and see if someone else has one!”

Better than sorting paper at least.

Ronan ran out the room past me and Imik and I slowly followed while they got their stuff.

Suddenly a little bag the size of my fist full of something heavy and clinking was tossed at me and I fumbled to catch it.

Opening it up I saw it was full of gold coins.

This was more than I ever had in my entire life, in one little bag!

Confused, I looked to Imik who had thrown it at me.

“You helped dive and get this on the ship, so that's yours! 

Besides, we're going to town! A little spending money will be fun!”

Oh so this was basically my cut from treasure diving! Nice!

Well if i was already here might as well get some souvenirs right?

Not like I could ever manage to rush these guys.

The front door slammed open and Jamie strutted in like an excited pigeon.

“GUYS! There's a ton of ships in Harbor right now! Let's go trade stuff!”

Huh, lots of ships meant lots of things from different places,  Now that was something to see!

I got dragged outside by Jamie who let go once we were out the door and jumped up to use Akeem’s arm as a sideways perch.

People with bird legs did not give a fuck about gravity huh?

Suddenly Akeem moved his arm,  tossing Jamie a good six feet up in the air and forward.

They laughed and landed perfectly, running ahead with the rapid, taptaptap of their legs against the ground.

Yamet yelled after them.

“JAMIE! Wait! Ah dammit they are gone”

Well, not like they'd get lost on the island right?

Besides, the rocky path to their abode was strewn with funnily shaped rocks, so finding it would be easy.

While walking to where more houses stood I took in the scenery as Yamet discussed what food to buy with Imik and Ronan, Akeem was picking up random rocks and tossing some away while keeping a few.

After a bend in the path around a rock we reached the first houses of the harbor area, where lots of ships were anchored.

Including the absolut big one whose silhouette I had seen yesterday evening.

In daylight the thing was even more intimidating.

The wood was painted black, save for what looked like to be some sort of metal ribcage that went over the outside of it,  making it look like a skeleton.

It didn't help that the rest of it was kept in similar color and style with dark gray sails.

Yep, no wonder ghostship stories existed.

The name on it read in a fancy red cursive.

Call Of The Damned

Well that was ominous, and they went full out on that aesthetic too.

Suddenly Ronan pointed at it.

“Hey! It's the Call Of The Damned! 

That means Cassidy is back! Let's ask him for a map!”

What.

THAT was this Cassidy guys ship? No wonder he was respected.

Being so distracted I ran face first into a door that was built into one of the large boulders, featuring a carved tree with Long roots.

“Watch where you're going! Also don't bother trying to open that,  it won't budge, believe me i've tried, maybe it's cursed or something”

I confusedly looked at the weird door again that Ronan had just called cursed, but before I could fully process this I was dragged along towards the ship that was way bigger than the Victory Rose and could hold my Ardua form like ten times over.

Though despite getting dragged a good ways the ship was all the way down at the harbor, and not just at one of the smaller docks either.

It was smackdab in the middle and tied to the biggest pier,  which wasn't even wood but stone.

Ronan ran ahead, leaving me and Akeem to follow as Yamet was off somewhere getting actual food for the ship and Jamie was who knew where anyway.

While walking after them at a fast pace I looked around as much as i could, finding that there were more than double the non humans than humans.

The only humans I really saw were doing some menial but fun things.

One with a brown short cloak and dark shaggy hair that went over his eyes was drawing a cat on the floor with chalk,  leaving spaces free for the surrounding children to color in.

The other human I saw had black curly hair with eye pattern hair pins and dark eyes framed by round glasses.

They were sitting on a swing and eating a fruit i had never seen before, the juice dripping on their mostly purple striped clothing aside from the black overall that seemed to have one strap broken and mismatched shoes, one being yellow and the other some soft pink

There was plenty of other things to see though!  

Like a tavern where a tall and horned being with curly brown hair was serving some tables, with the most unusual thing about them being that they had four arms total and as they turned around i could see they had four eyes as well with vertical pupils and ears that were as pointed as mine, though a good bit longer

Well made sense, like that one could hold more plates and the like with that many limbs.

Suddenly Imik grabbed me and yanked me down a narrower path I had almost run past, telling me to not get lost and look where I was going.

I just numbly nodded, oh I was looking,  just maybe not at the road and instead at everything else.

Hearing a clunk I looked up at one of the overhanging roofs,  seeing another person with four arms and a coat write something in a notebook before slinking off out of sight.

I got yanked by Imik slightly to the left and down another narrow road, nearly running into a tall woman with weird lavender colored skin and Blue hair with black scleras and pink irises whose fangs slightly poked out of her mouth.

She also had four arms, this was the third person i saw that had those, apparently they weren't as uncommon as i had originally thought.

Her pointy ears flicked in annoyance as i was dragged past her where i had to jump over the tail of a weird Birdlike person that was covered in purplish blue iridescent and black feathers who confusedly turned around, showing that their face had a blue and black pattern as well in the upper half and feathers instead of ears between darkish magenta hair.

Suddenly the houses gave way to a bigger space, which apparently was some sort of garden as there were Flowers and even two trees.

Something pink with dragonfly wings and humanoid shape flitted past, barely the size of my fist with some sort of flower as a dress?

Wait, was that a FAIRY?

Before I could get a better look though Ronan had grabbed me and was dragging me away, the fairy was nowhere to be seen.

“C’mon, don't dawdle, we got a map to get!”

Yeah, that's true, I wanted to get home as soon as possible even though this place was very interesting.

Slinking along behind some taverns and restaurants and whatever we had to walk around something that had a humanlike torso with reddish brown hair but the body of a green snake instead of legs which was rummaging through the trash.

That was a being I had actually heard about! 

A naga if memory served right.

Then finally we reached the more open beachside, with a little sandy area that contained some boulders that looked perfect to climb around.

Apparently the water was safe here as a good few people were swimming, including someone that looked to be half Orca with lots of scars scattered on their body and short dark hair that had a white streak.

Well of course a marine mammal would go swimming,  if this craziness was over i'd maybe go swimming too.

Though doing that in Kamerasca wasn't advised due to the large amount of crabs that would pinch any swimmers.

Along the beachside were a few stands and shops that sold who knew what.

On one of the awnings,  and denting it horribly, slept a curled up and pale, mammalian being with long ears and a catlike nose and short bluish tinted hair.

How the construct did not break was beyond me though,  but the people there didn't seem to be bothered by it.

Suddenly Ronan let go of me and ran yelling and waving both of his arms up the stone pier which up close looked more like an unfinished bridge to nowhere.

“CASSIDY! CASSIDY! HEY! WELCOME BACK!”

He ran past some people unloading boxes and crates and the like from the giant boat towards a dark skinned man that was wearing a coat not unlike the one Nemas had, though more a dark red than navy blue.

So that guy was Cassidy?  

“Come on, lets go and ask if he had a map, before Ronan talks his ear off about whatever”

I nodded at Imik and we walked past the people carrying stuff from the ship towards where Ronan was talking to Cassidy.

Getting closer I noticed that Cassidy was apparently human, and as he turned around his eyes showed an unnerving pale turquoise hue.

Which really was the only unusual part about him.

Ronan seemed to have informed him already as Cassidy waved politely at us.

And then ducked down as someone swung over him hanging from a rope and slammed straight into Ronan.

“WOOHOO! HEY RONAN!”

The rope snapped and the person ended up crash landing on top of the poor Ronan.

Man he just got healed yesterday! And that looked painful.

“Shalimar! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!”

“Sorry dad!”

The young woman, Shalimar apparently, and Cassidy's daughter? 

Got up and then yanked Ronan into a standing position as well.

She was a good bit paler than her father with blonde hair and dark blue eyes, wearing a sleeveless leather vest that was tied together in the front haphazardly with a lighter blue undershirt and a blue sash, 

over which a belt was placed that was tied into a knot instead of having used the belt buckle.

She also had a sword that was attached to her greenish gray pants instead of the weirdly applied belt and the handle was partially under some pale fur pieces that seemed to just have been stuffed into the dark blue sash.

Around her lower arms was some sort of cloth covered arm guard,  like I had seen some archers have, just without the gloves.

At least Ronan didn't seem bothered by this chaotic happenstance and just let himself be hugged by the rather unhinged young woman.

Cassidy just looked displeased at her, which made me assume that this was not the first time that happened.

“Whatever, just don't kill anyone like that, because if you do it's your responsibility and im not going to help”

Shalimar just nodded and lifted Ronan up like he was a bag of flour and put him on one of the protruding rocks of the stone pier.

“Sure thing dad! I'll be careful!”

“Careful? You can't even tie your vest correctly! No wonder you never wear boots with shoelaces- gah!”

For that Comment Ronan got a punch in the gut, which made him fall over backwards into the water with a splash.

“Shalimar! Go get him out of there! and stop punching people you disagree with!”

She rolled her eyes but did as told, dragging Imik with her to help,  and leaving me alone with Cassidy.

Well, that was awkward.

Before I could say anything there was a familiar whistle click and suddenly Imugi jumped out of the water and up the side of the pier, spitting water at Cassidy and missing horribly.

He turned to me.

“I say we move from this spot a bit to talk,  who knows what happens next”

I did have to agree with that,  though I'd rather someone I know be with me right now.

He led me to the other side of the pier, to the end of it where a bench was placed in front of the drop to the ocean.

“So, Ronan said something about you being lost and needing a map?

At least from what i understood before my daughter drop kicked him”

“Uh, yeah, i was washed overboard during a storm and need to get back to Kamerasca seeing as i don't know where my friends are now”

He hummed and fiddled with the weird necklace he wore, which looked like a smaller version of those drinking vessels but the pointy end had a metal cap with a hole.

A horn if memory served correctly.

“Say what Ship were you on? 

If i see it when i go out again i can tell them you're okay”

That, well that was actually very nice of him.

“Oh, uh, the Ship was called Victory Rose, so if you-” “Victory Rose?! The one with captain Nemas?”

I blinked confusedly at him, he KNEW that ship and its captain?

“Ah, yes? He's got a tattoo on his face and told me to ignore the hardtack with the maggots”

Not exactly a fond memory.

Cassidy grabbed me and gently shook me much to my confusion.

“Say! How's that talkative son of a bitch doing? 

Does he still not have taste buds?”

Well now I was thoroughly confused, were they friends or something?

“Uhhh, well he seemed healthy, and put way too much fish in everything he eats, how do you know him anyway?”

He thankfully let go of me.

“Oh yeah, before he inherited the ship his gramps told him to work on someone else's ship, i guess the old man feared he'd be too soft or something, and we ended up on the same vessel and became friends”

Oh, that made sense, but before I could retort anything I heard a shrieky voice call down from above, reminding me somehow of a seagull.

Looking up it was a seagull, sort of.

If the Human features were anything to go by it was a Harpy.

“YO BOSS! BAD NEWS!”

The Harpy dived down headfirst and landed on the back part of the bench.

“Nymra! There you are! And what do you mean by bad news? 

I'm in the middle of something!”

The partially feathered face turned to me for a second before going back to ignoring me.

“That can wait! Because we got big problems!”

“Well then spit it out!”

“The pirates are banding together!”

Cassidy didn't seem to worried about that,  and i was pretty sure Rikaad said something about the maringand ships allying with pirates, so no surprise.

“Well that's nothing new, there's always some that bond together for more success, but that will fall apart soon like every time they realize they have to share with more people”

The Harpy, Nymra? Shook her head.

“Not this time, I counted at least a hundred ships! And i couldn't get close enough for long so the only thing i managed to hear was something about taking over, but no idea what they want to take over”

My blood froze, and Cassidy did too, TWO HUNDRED? 

Two hundred ships filled with pirates? 

And possibly the deserters of the Maringand army, 

if they were there they probably instigated it.

And they wanted to take something over…

OH FUCK!

“Cassidy! I think they are going to attack Kamerasca!”

He turned confusedly to me.

“Why do you think that boy?”

“A few weeks ago deserters of the maringand army went here because they didn't want to serve under the new queen,  after they lost a war to Kamerasca, I think they might want revenge.

And it wouldn't be beneath them to promise chunks of land to the pirates if they helped.

I think they are still pissed that we arrested their previous King and put his niece in charge while hes in jail for war crimes of basically every sort”

Cassidy's eyes went wide with Alarm.

“Well fuck, Nymra do you think there is time to send a messenger?”

Nmyra shook her head.

“Not really there aren't any islands between to rest so you'd have to take a ship, and that takes time, the weather in that area is going to go bad soon as well, so not till a few days from now.

Which would mean we'd be head to head with them”

Cassidy cursed loudly and waltzed back down the pier, barking orders to everyone in range.

Nymra herself gave me an apologetic look.

“Yeah, sorry about all of this, I'm sure Cassidy will find time for you later though, he always does! What did you even want from him? 

Well if the question isn't to invasive of course”

For a seagull adjacent being very polite.

“I got washed overboard and wanted to go back home, or back to the ship whatever turns out to be closer”

“What ship? I can fly, maybe I'll see it!”

Oh right, as a Harpy she was faster than a boat and could see further!

“The Victory Rose! Cassidy said he knows it” “Eyy! I know that one too! They sometimes meet up and get drinks!

One time I woke up on the wrong damn boat and had to fly for an hour to find the Call Of The Damned!”

Another reason to not try alcohol then.

“That must have been confusing”

“Oh it was! And I landed on the other two ships first to rest a little!”

Other two ships?

“Other ships? Does he have more than one?”

Nymra Nodded, 

swooshing open her wing towards the Call Of The Damned.

“Yeah! This one obviously! And two others! 

They are called Revenants Vestige and Bleeding Moon! My main job is scouting but I also just bring notes from one ship to the other!”

Well that would make giving orders to all of the ships easier.

“You must have seen a lot of the open sea then”

“Eh, its wavy water, and some islands,  it does get boring after four years or so, tell ya what! 

Since I'm gonna be heading out again soon anyway I'll keep an eye open for the Victory Rose and if I do see them I'll tell them you're alright!”

My eyes went wide, why were the strangers in this place all so nice?

“You'd do that? Really?! Thank you!”

She saluted, which looked pretty weird due to her feather covered arm, and flapped back up into the sky.

“Of course! Ain't gonna take much of my time anyway! 

Might as well do something good!”

With that she flew away over the water and around the cliffside out of sight.

I really hoped she would run, err fly? Into the Victory Rose,  If just so I can be Sure Robin and Rikaad know I'm alive and fine.

Soo, now what? Everyone I knew the name of was nowhere near me.

And I did not want to interrupt any of the beings currently at work.

Should I just wait here?

“Oi! Dee! The fuck you standing there for?”

Jamie! Thank fuck i didn’t have to stay around awkwardly for long.

“Jamie! I was talking to Cassidy earlier but he got the information that the pirates were banding together and ran off”

They skidded to a halt in front of me, distantly reminding me of a poofed up chicken.

“Yeah I know! Fucking bitch ass pirates! Cassidy gave the order that anyone that can fight should get ready! I'm here to get your sorry ass!”

Wow Cassidy was fast! 

“Get me? For what? Do I have to hide in your house till this is over?”

They grabbed my wrist with their sleeve covered hand and dragged me back down the pier.

“Nah dude, a shapeshifter like you is invited to come along and fuck shit up! Only if you wanna though”

While running, well more like being dragged by someone about half my size, i thought about it.

On one hand; it was dangerous,  very much so even and I already went overboard once.

On the other hand; that was kind of exactly the reason I tagged along with Rikaad, and Jamie did have a point with the shapeshifting.

Rikaad had called it the Intimidation factor,  and basically I came here for exactly this.

“Jamie!”

I called out to them to get their attention as they were focusing on not running into people while dragging me along.

“Yeah? What is it?”

They stopped for a moment, allowing both of us to catch a breath.

I grinned at them.

“Lets fuck shit up!”

They smiled widely, showing off sharp teeth.

“Oh HELL yeah! Let's get back to the Halcyon! 

Pretty sure Imugi brought Ronan there already and Imik can swim fast!”

I nodded and ran alongside the nimble Jamie towards the ship, which Imugi had actually towed to be closer to the main part.

Well that saved a good bit of time!

Whoever was at the steering wheel managed to halt it pretty fast and perfectly parallel to the beach.

So either Akeem or Imik were at the steering wheel.

Imugis head popped up out of the water and bend down in front of us.

Before I could guess what to do Jamie had dragged me to cling on for dear life to the uppermost spike on Imugi’s Long neck while they sat atop the Bony skull.

Well that did forego the need to get to a dock and set a plank out,  thus allowing someone else to put their ship there and let their crew go onboard.

Hopping on after Jamie I saw that the one at the steering wheel was Yamet this time, so he was coming with this time huh?

Imugi dived under and after a moment a tug went through the boat,  The Sea Serpent was towing it again.

We were off to fight Pirates, lots of them.

Hopefully the kind Serpent wouldn't be hurt.

Imik started ordering the rest of the people on board to do tasks.

Since i had no idea what half the words even meant i was of no help and kept out of the way as much as i could, 

Opting to just keep an eye on the rope that Imugi was towing us with.

Also for some Reason Shalimar was with us on deck, apparently she decided her Dad didn't need help.

That or he would have ordered her to stay in harbor,  Maybe both even I didn't know them that well.

It wasn't even an hour but at least fifty ships were now following the Call Of The Damned out of the narrow part of the island to wherever Nymra had pointed cassidy.

As soon as we passed the two long strips of land two more ships joined, One with a white sail that depicted a sickle shaped moon that had drops of blood falling from it and one that was entirely painted a foggy gray.

Cassidy’s other two ships no doubt, 

The ‘Bleeding Moon’ and ‘Reventants Vestige’ were now flanking the entire fleet of extremely mismatched ships.

Both of them were, while still extremely big, nowhere near as Giant as the harrowingly designed Call Of The Damned.

That really must be the biggest ship in existence.

Shalimar appeared next to me and put a foldable telescope into my hands, pointing at the ‘Revenants Vestige’ with a grin.

“The captain there keeps a rooster instead of a parrot, and the thing sure knows how to fight”

A chicken? Really? Well that i had to see!

Hoisting the telescope up I looked through it at the gray painted boat, and as Shalimar had said the captain, who wore so much layered clothing it was impossible to tell what was under it,  had indeed an entire Rooster on their shoulder.

The thing was pretty big too and seemed slightly off.

Maybe not entirely chicken then, but close enough.

Huh, what else was there? I probably should take a good look at which boats were with us to not get confused later.

Swinging the telescope around i saw that all of the fifty boats were following the Call Of The Damned,  and most of them had nonhuman sailors,  There were even a few merfolk in the water, well at least those that could keep up as the wind was currently in our favor.

I handed the telescope back to Shalimar.

“Thanks! Anything I can help with? Im afraid im not a good sailor though”

She had a huge grin on and seemed to hold back laughter,  but still answered coherently.

“Eh, don't ask me, Imik or Ronan will know better where you can help”

She stuffed the telescope in her belt, which really didn't look like it should hold anything, and hopped back down to help with the sail.

“AY! DEE! She put paint on the telescope!”

Looking up I saw Jamie, who was back in the crows nest,  well Jamie's nest really.

Paint? Running my thumb around my eye there was indeed something like coal powder or something smudged around my eye.

Ah, no wonder Shalimar was trying not to laugh.

Though now she did, loudly and honestly? It was a little funny,  and a surprise that nobody else had done this till now.

Using the corner of my shirt I removed the smudge as well as I could before looking ahead and around again.

I doubted we'd run, sail?, into the pirates so soon and there were all the other ships looking out too but a little attentiveness had never hurt.

I stared out at the sea all day and a good bit into Dusk till I got something thrown at me.

Turning around I saw it was Jamie,  who had thrown a little bag full of sand.

Why the fuck they had that was beyond me though.

“Yo, dumbass come eat,  Yamet cooked so no soggy sandwiches anymore!”

At least some good news, I for sure would not have touched another one of those soggy things that barely qualified as bread.

“Coming, one second!”

Standing up, and noticing my foot fell asleep, I hopped down the stairs and followed Jamie inside the kitchen, which smelled pretty good.

Jamie jumped over a chair and used Akeem as a stair before settling in the rounded window like a content bird.

Once again nobody seemed bothered by that, not even Shalimar.

Sitting on the last empty chair, which was probably why Jamie chose the window, I was handed a plate with a simple mashed potato and some fish with a savory sauce.

Yep, way better than wet bread.

“You still have paint on your face, here”

Akeem handed me a clean rag and I nodded thankfully at him before removing the rest of the dark smudge.

“Thanks!”

I ate in silence, the other ones having enough to talk about without me anyway.

It was just pretty nerve wracking that right now, like RIGHT NOW right now we were off to go look for Pirates and fight them.

The very thing I originally came here for with Rikaad and Robin.

I wondered how the two were doing right now?

Rikaad for sure would do his best to prioritize the mission despite me missing, and still somehow find a way to try and look for me.

As for Robin, well the little ginger was probably worried like no tomorrow.

No doubt he'd cried after he'd seen me fall off the deck.

The deck itself probably had some ugly scratch marks now,  I'd have to apologize to Nemas for that.

“nervous?”

I looked up from where I had just been staring at an now empty plate.

The one that had addressed me was Ronan,  half of the others have already left.

“Kinda, i mean, i originally came here to help with exactly that, but now its just- i dunno”

I sighed and let myself sink head first onto the table, 

avoiding the cutlery and plates.

“Well, it IS pretty nerve wracking, I admit that, but it's just pirates! 

There is no way they can get organized enough to make that dumb alliance actually useful! They are too greedy for that!

I'll tell you! A few days more and they'll start going at each other's throats and I doubt we'll have much to do!

After they are done with the infighting we can just aim some cannons at the rest and be done with it!”

Ronan’s words were actually helping,  but I couldn't help it and was still a little nervous.

“If you're sure, you're the sailor here,  i don't know shit about being on the open sea”

He tilted his head, and I was once again reminded that he was also a half elf Bastard and not actually so unlike me.

“Eh, for being a landrat you're doing a pretty good job! 

Maybe some sleep would do you good,  you said you weren't sleeping well so im sure at least half of that nervousness is actually sleep deprivation!”

That was a very good point, maybe i should ask Akeem where the chamomile tea was as that had worked a little last time-

A Cup with said Tea was set down in front of me, still steaming hot.

“Here, Akeem told me to make you one”

I looked first confused and then thankful at Yamet, 

who grabbed Ronan’s upper arm and dragged him outside.

Yamet was a pretty alright guy, even making sure I wouldn't have anyone trying to talk my ear off while I drank the tea.

A tea that was pretty good, Yamet had added Honey or something similar to it which made it even better.

Though, as soon as those Pirates and the Maringand deserters were dealt with I could go back home to my friends.

Who knew maybe I'd even run into them while fighting the pirates.

Ha, unlikely, but still a nice thought.

As soon as I was finished with the Tea and put the cup back down I got lifted up from my seat like a wet cat.

Akeem, he really was the only one on this ship that could feasibly lift me up.

“I can walk myself”

“And i am just making sure you actually go to sleep,  i live with Ronan and Jamie so you never know”

Well… yeah, fair.

But he didn't have to carry me under one arm like a fucking duffel bag.

“Well yeah but i can still use my legs”

Akeem just hummed an acknowledgement and opened a door to a familiar room.

Well Akeem didn't need sleep and With Shalimar here they probably had no Guestbed, especially as Yamet was now here too.

Still, I felt a bit bad about taking someone else's room, or would if Akeem didn't just drop me on the mattress and then left quietly.

“Goodnight”

I mumbled something in return but he had already closed the door.

Eh, might as well sleep then.

NEXT / PREVIOUS / OVERSIGHT

[chim-aera]

Fawn

I don't know what I'm doing. it feels strange, like I'm spinning out of orbit into nothingness, stringing together words for some picturesque portrait no one will ever care to see.

but now it's worse.

gods when I did become this pitiful, I like to scream, shout, claws out, teeth bared but I'll bow my head and sit at heel if commanded well enough.

like any good dog.

bitch.

I'm certainly one, but in more ways then one.

I've been fighting with myself, my entire life. but this, I don't like this. I'm drowning, not the sea, salt water cleansing and stinging no this is sickening sweet sap choking me, swelling into my lungs dragging me under.

I've traded my aptitude to be called a clever girl and for a scratch on my chin, no matter if that grip is slowly crushing me like an overripe pomegranate, skull and all, wincing as I feel my jaw click out of socket, only for rough fingers just to shove it back into place.

"it looks better that way, you've got nice cheekbones, hate to waste em".

whatever that means.

my heart feels like a frightened bird. wings beating, slamming itself against the cage bars, cages.

oh gods cages.

why, I've traded my own cage, flitting forward, sticking my head out to poke it into another, brassy trap, intriguing, but far less safe.

what if I do get out only to stumble into another, a fox purposely putting her head into the noose.

standing frozen, not fear, not eyes wide, headlights shone back, moon pale, terrified at the sight of the inevitable, but a moth dancing, feather light and frivolous to catch flames, on wilted, withered little wings.

I'm no Icarus, gods, no, gods are kinder. at least Apollo had the mercy to offer a tender, albeit burning caress, a kiss on the forehead, blazing and hellfire bright then sent him down to the cool, soothing embrace of the sea.

men have no such mercy.

what am I doing? this is a rope I've not yet fallen from, yet every day I wear it thinner.

gods I've met those I truly care for, that care for me in return yet I feel I'm only picking up a torch and setting myself alight in front of them.

I can't say I know how Callisto felt, when I do this to myself.

I write my own preordained, predestined downfall, leaning into open palms for gentle little praises, not even caring as those hands slowly slide down to my throat.

choking, gagging on my ineptitude, on magnitude, pride, hedonistic sadistic twisted desires.

tears stain my cheeks, stinging, and salty, and I bare my teeth but there's no fight left.

a hound rolling back her gums to yawn.

where did my claws go?

I want to feel clean, Hestia, Athena, I haven't been since I was three.

gap toothed and grinning and wild, all moon flowers and morning glories and mud pies.

now I'm not sure even what I am anymore.

siren, seductress,

victim, prey.

I'm not prey, not anymore, gods why do I make myself out to be?

when did I become so meek.

I'm not in danger so why do I actively seek it out.

I've not been marred by that many hands scraping my flesh but the eyes burn into me I want to disappear a Helm of invisibility, to evade perception, sight, to flee.

give me back my talons or better yet give me back my wings.

Demeter, sometimes I wonder, I think I'd prefer your arms, even if I seek safety from another. what if, and only what if, those stories were frivolous, fanciful little tales Kore told herself to keep herself sane while she spent six months in darkness, flinching at his touch.

gods when will these hands be curled around my throat when will this pain become bruises.

I'm so damn scared yet I'm only flirting with my own mortality.

my own fragility.

look at me

I may hold fight, but I go down like a wounded dove. dragged down like a deer with dogs ripping into him. antlers clashed against tree trunks.

I purposely step into the snare, my gaze pleading at the hunter only to watch him prolong my misery.

it isn't good.

Arachne, these aren't your webs, but they hold me fast, hooked into my skin like bitter little burrs, Artemis I know you've never fancied me, not since I was infinite and barking with coyotes, now my own fox bark is sharp and shrill screaming for the wilderness while I hypocritically tame myself.

how does one live untouched?

I suppose when one's father is a king with ways like his you understand quickly, how to survive.

but Artemis, I don't think I'd have shot Actaeon, what if he got to me first, hands digging into the soft of my thighs, and I go still, blank, waiting till it's all over.

"Zeus would have his way with you, you'd just have to let him hold you down."

I don't even know how to feel.

gods, I'd take a god, a giant, a bear. a forest fire, a storm, the noose. anything but that.

please let me keep running, don't let them snap my ankles, don't let them cut out my tongue, I don't want to be a nightingale no matter how much I sing, sister don't wed him. buzzard blights and rotting flesh, a child sacrificed for his father's sins.

don't let me go god tongued, divine destruction. at least Cassandra was avenged.

I wish to be Penelope-cunning, Clytemnestra-fierce, but I'm Helen all along, gods I may not be beautiful but I'm sought after all the same hands clasping and clawed and cruel, not all, oh surely not all!

of course not.

but the ones that are clever enough to truly snatch me, it won't end well for me.

please.

I'm scared.

I'm in a cage, cushioned, with lyre and lavender, why am I trading it for iron and bruises?

or even a golden collar pull me down by my chain, palms pressing against linoleum or carpet, my cheek pressed down against linens, a cage is better then that.

bring me to my knees and hold me down, I'll pull my own wrists behind my spine and let my gaze go soft, nothing. numb.

when did I become a fawn?

I suppose my mother taught that to me.

I never could fight back to her.

now look at me.

let's only pray whoever does catch me, is kinder then I anticipate, is kinder then a man, or better yet, gods, grant me strength.

[mirror-to-the-past]

Here's some spoilers and discussion about my initial thoughts on Kingdom Hearts 2 below.

Nearing the end of my KH2 journey... I'd say this has probably been my favorite game so far, out of KH1, CoM, and now this. Overall, I'd say I like the composition of the story of CoM a tad more, but goddamn if the intro and outro haven't gone especially hard on KH2 (also has just generally been littered with several moments that have made the characters very endearing). And the gameplay... woo, actually is super fun. I love the love put into the reaction commands, and every fight is like a movie.

I got past the Roxas fight after like... 40+ tries, and was regretting immensely I decided to play in Proud mode. Never got frustrated at my boy, though- was just filled with respect, and it's seriously the best fight in the franchise thus far for me for giving well designed attacks that I felt were effectively telegraphed. I'm not quite sure how/why Roxas led Sora into what I assume was an internal battle, since he already seemed reabsorbed within Sora's being, but I can only assume Axel's sacrifice (since that happened right before this fight) must've reawoken him, in a way ("Tell me why 'he' chose you!") Poor Roxas has been having his life stolen. The Nobody dehumanization is such shit, dude. Roxas banging on Sora's braced keyblade over and over with that level of ferocity is fueled by such obvious rage that it's undeniable. God, he's living in my head unapologetically.

Meanwhile Xigbar was also... a fight. Less filled with respect, more frustrated about that one, lol. (I thought the sniper mechanics were pretty sick, though. Felt like I was doing Orbonne Monastary in FFXIV again). Can't help but assume several of these Organization members may maintain relevance in future installments in some way, since several seemed to have implied information/backstory that remained unrevealed prior to their disappearance (looking at you, Xigbar [casually referencing that there's been other Keyblade wielders before dying with zero explanation] and Saïx). The next game, 358/2 Days, looks like it's dealing with the Organization in what I assume is a prequel, so maybe backstory will be there?

Kairi and Riku have made my heart warm, and the whole trio's love for each other is honestly so sweet. I keep thinking about their reunion scenes and it's just... aaa, I feel crazy about it. When Kairi lowered Riku's hood and saw the face of Xehanort's Heartless and Riku looked so ashamed (then it cut away?? how dare), when Riku shielded Kairi with his body from Saïx's attack, when Kairi hugged Sora and said "this is real" because 😭 girl your abandonment issues and unachievable desire for constancy are making me feel things, and she's been struggling with the phantom sensation of forgetting someone she cared about for an entire y e a r, so having that confirmation... man. *Staring out to the ocean*

Felt so bad for her that Sora was so awkward about the hug she deeply needed, and didn't even realize the absence of the music until Sora reunited with Riku. 😂 And... oh my god, haha, that part got me. Not surprised that the Sixth Sense kid can pack a gut punch, ofc, he's got a long history of films making me weep, but like... "I looked for you! I looked everywhere for you!" While Sora was crying on his k n e e s and grasping Riku's hand like a lifeline was such amazing emotional payoff. Like, I've been joking with friends about Sora's unwavering "Riku, Riku, Riku" throughout the entire game, but damn if that didn't do a good job of making me invested via Sora, goddamn. I'm so happy my kid gets to see his silver haired punk again. And wowie, they're such a power duo? Their limit break "Eternal Session" is legitimately one of my favorite limit breaks alongside Vincent Valentine's "Satan Slam," from FF7 now. The synchrony of the dance where they pass off the weapons to each other, smooth as butter? Them going "back to back" between the different phases of their LB? (Which is adding to my evaluation of the poems from CoM I've had in the back of my head the entire damn game, by the way...) The clash of their keyblades, and the duality red-blue color scheme? Be still, my artistic heart, they're too much. For this, and the honestly impressive expression and facial rigging for what is a PS2 game, I want to give the animators a smooch.

All I want now is to know where tf Riku pulled Kairi's Keyblade from, and how she's apparently a chosen wielder too. Like, okay??? But where? How?

Oh, also would like Riku to see someone about his hand, that doesn't look too comfortable. My guy can be a badass all he wants, but if he doesn't drink his milk, put an actual cast around his wrist, and bit of work leave off from world-saving shenanigans, he's gonna be a certified hero with post-traumatic arthritis 10~ years down his little road to dawn. Apparently working for Ansem the Wise doesn't provide great health coverage.

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Mob Psycho 100 Season 3

Mob Psycho 100 is one of the greatest anime of all time.

This is not up for debate. Though even if it was, I doubt many of you would disagree. Was it really only 3 years ago that the second season of this off-kilter little slice-of-life action comedy showed up and utterly blew everyone away? Only 3 years since ONE’s crudely drawn webcomic about an overpowered psychic boy just trying to live a normal life stepped out of One Punch Man’s shadow and rocketed to the top of everyone’s Best Of lists? Mob Psycho 100 is the kind of show that feels like it’s always been with us, one of those enduring staples of anime that defines everything good about this medium and remains a permanent nostalgic fixture point for new and old fans alike. From its utterly gobsmacking animation that forever raised the bar on how to portray superhuman action to its achingly human story of the things that make even the most extraordinary of us so wonderfully ordinary, this show is a triumph of empathetic storytelling and visual artistry on a level almost nothing else even comes close to. And while my opinion of the second season may have cooled slightly over time- I’m not the biggest fan of how ONE writes dialogue- it still stands as one of this medium’s crowning achievements.

So when I say that this third and final season feels like a step back, let me be clear: I am in no way saying Mob Psycho 100 Season 3 is a bad twelve episodes. Even if I were the most contrarian asshole imaginable, I couldn’t say that with a straight face. This is still Mob Psycho Goddamn 100. It’s still some of the most likable characters and some of the most spectacular animation ever put to screen. Even on its off days, this show runs circles around 90% of your average seasonal slop. But as this season wore on, knocking down the last few dominoes necessary to bring Mob’s story to a close for good, I kept waiting for the moment that would shoot this season into the stratosphere. Mob’s first fight with Teru in season 1, the astounding Mogami arc in season 2, every prior season of Mob has that one spectacular moment that kicks the story into an entirely new gear and never lets up for a second after. And as we approached the final episode, almost everything as wrapped up as it could possibly be, I realized... I was still waiting for that moment. As much as I enjoyed this last round with Mob and company, it never took off the way I know this show is capable of. It just coasted at 80% the whole way through, hitting plenty of killer pitches along the way but never pulling off a single grand slam. This is a good season of Mob, even a great season; it’s just not a spectacular one. And considering how damn high this show has raised the bar, the fact that it’s ending on such a comparatively lackluster note (again, I must stress the comparatively part of that statement) leaves me a little disappointed.

So why does one of the greatest anime of all time feel like it’s taken a step back for its victory lap? Well, after rolling it over in my head for a while, I think there are three big issues that keep season 3 from reaching MP100′s previous heights.

Reason #1: A lack of purpose

Let’s be honest, MP100 could have ended with season 2 and it would feel almost completely natural. Sure, there might be a couple loose plot ends here and there, but the actual story- Mob’s personal journey of self-acceptance and self-betterment, Reigen managing to overcome his worst impulses and treat Mob with the respect he deserves, the looming threat of Claw and the thematic challenge they pose to Mob’s humble worldview- was basically all wrapped up by the time season 2 ended. We’ve watched this bowl-haired, awkward middle schooler embrace what’s special about himself, work to overcome his flaws and become a truly well-rounded person, and defeat the literal manifestation of egotism and narcissism that stands in opposition to everything he believes about the inherent equality of people. His story is already about as complete as it could possibly be. Anything after that would just be icing on the cake. And sadly, that’s kind of how season 3 feels a lot of the time: icing. Very delicious icing, to be sure, but by now the cake’s already finished, and there’s only so much icing you can eat on its own before you start yearning for the solid food that used to be attached to it.

Which brings us neatly to:

Reason #2: Less interesting characters

This is related to reason #1: with all the important characters’ stories basically taken care of, most of season 3 is spent wrapping up the loose ends of the various remaining side characters who could still use some closure. Unfortunately, that means the focus is on the characters who, in my opinion, are among the less interesting parts of Mob Psycho as a whole. Like, I like Dimple well enough as a comic foil, but it’s been so long since he’s had any sort of serious pathos. And while I appreciate how the giant broccoli arc that takes up the season’s first half gives him a meaningful place in the narrative again, I just don’t have the built-in investment to care about him like I care about Mob, Ritsu, and Reigen. It’s a good way to close his arc, but he’s just nowhere near as compelling a character as Mob’s star players, so it doesn’t hit nearly as hard. And it’s completely blown out of the water by a two-episode wrap-up for the lazy telepathy club that Mob refused to join back at the start of the show. Now that’s what I call comedy.

Meanwhile, the final arc of the entire show brings the spotlight back around to Mob’s crush on his classmate Tsubomi, and... alright, full honesty, I was initially planning to write something here about how I really don’t care that much about Mob’s crush on Tsubomi and how it’s always been the least interesting part of this show, so spending the final arc focusing on it wasn’t my idea of a good time. But after seeing the way it actually played out? It actually works. I think ONE understands, on some level, that the actual question of whether or not they’re going to get together is far less interesting than how Mob’s feelings toward Tsubomi reflect his ongoing personal growth and struggle with his own inner turmoil. So instead of being about Mob trying to finally get the girl, this final arc uses those feelings as a lynchpin to finally make Mob confront the last hurdle on his stage to self-acceptance, all while inadvertently becoming a locus around which everyone else can bring closure to their own character arcs in turn by showing how much he’s improved their lives while he’s struggling with the last stage of his journey to improve and accept his own life. And it’s really fucking solid! Especially the final episode, my god does it bring it all home. The only issue is that this is the final goddamn arc of Mob Psycho 100, and it’s largely about the part of the show that’s always interested me the least. Even if it handles it about as well as it possibly could, there’s just no way for that not to feel underwhelming, especially compared to the astounding work of action spectacle that was season 2′s climactic showdown with Claw.

Reason #3: Weaker visuals

OKAY STOP AND LISTEN BEFORE YOU RIP MY THROAT OUT. Mob season 3 is a great-looking show. The way studio Bones brings ONE’s sketchy, janky drawing style to life is, was, and continues to be a singularly unique delight. Weaker, in this case, does not mean “bad” in any way, shape, or form. It’s just that, once again, I’m used to Mob being a spectacular-looking show, so anything less than 120% feels like a letdown. But weaker is weaker no matter how good it still is, and there’s just no getting around the fact that this is the least visually interesting season of Mob yet. Look back at any random episode from the previous two seasons, and you’ll find enough experimental animation, creative cinematography, and truly gonzo visual style in five minutes to outdo many full episodes of season 3. Far too much of the time, it relies on simple medium shots or panning shots when it’s not time for the action to break out. And even then, the action, excellent though it still is, has so few moments that match the sheer awe of the Teru fight, the Mogami fight, or either of the big Claw fights. Sadly, it seems losing Yuzuru Tachikawa, the director who pushed those first two seasons to such incredible heights, really did leave a dent in its visual identity. MP100 in the past felt like it worked to make every single moment of animation interesting and uniquely meaningful; now it only feels that way maybe 70% of the time.

And again: this is still a really good fucking season of anime. It’s still a ton of fun, the action kicks ass, and getting one last chance to bid these characters goodbye was definitely appreciated. The only reason I’m being so critical is because I know what this show is capable of. If MP100 had been at this level of quality from the beginning, it still would’ve been a high-tier shonen romp with enough heart and style to easily recommend to anyone. But I’m not used to MP100 settling for just being good. I’m used to MP100 shattering every conceivable barrier in its way as it rockets into the stratosphere. I’m used to MP100 going so far above and beyond that it redefines what’s even possible in animation. I’m used to this show being an absolute masterclass of spectacle and storytelling alike. So the fact it doesn’t get to be that one more time for its final outing turns what’s otherwise a perfectly delightful season 3 into a sorrowful reminder of glories past, weighed down by just how much better it used to be. Never before has a really good show felt so crushed under the burden of failing to rise to greatness.

But you know what? Fuck it. Just because it’s not as jaw-dropping and landmark-setting as previous seasons doesn’t mean Mob season 3 wasn’t a damn great ending to a damn great series. If nothing else, the OP drop in the final episode probably pushed my score up a full half-point all on its own. This may be a step down from what this show is capable of, but at the end of the day, there’s still more than enough heart, imagination, and sheer talent on display here to close Mob’s story out on a deeply affecting note. Mob Psycho 100 has already earned its eternal place in the anime pantheon; it’s earned the right to rest on its laurels for its farewell party. And I’m sure I’ll still be thinking fondly back on the whole beautiful journey long after the momentary disappointment fades from memory. So with all that said, I give MP100′s final season a score of:

8/10

So long, Shigeo. So long, Reigen. Here’s looking forward to whatever the future has in store.

[silent-silver-slip]

Technically a very late written piece for @dragonsampersanddragons but also a fun little exploration into something very very post-Rising Dragons.

Of course, you don't actually need to know anything to read this snippet. Rather, it's just some friendship/found family vibes with dragons and a campfire thrown in. What more could you want?

(There was also no editing done and I also can't remember my conlang pronouns correctly but hopefully I recalled them properly lmao.)

There was a time before dragons, Issi knows. The dragons themselves have stories of course, and so do Issi’s people, but Issi hadn’t really been around then. She knows history is important. It’s in the scars of the land, the scars of her people, the scars of the dragons. But Issi’s never really been one to remember history, no matter how it’s told.

She leaves that for Ezra since ze is obsessed with history. Ze has a particular interest in the myths about Zeend and Desi, the first bonded pair, though Issi’s always thought that there are a lot of cooler stories than two people who just, like, travelled somewhere.

Of course, telling Ezra that is bound to lead to a rant that Issi does like to hear but also really doesn’t want to hear.

It would be a good way to distract Ezra from your cheating though, Hel points out. Issi’s dragon stretches tort neck, before placing tort head back onto tort massive paws. Tail swishing, Hel hums. I really think it would be better if you used that red card though.

Hel’s favourite colour is red. If tor had tort way, there wouldn’t be any other colour and Issi would only ever wear red. Thankfully, Issi gets some input.

“And I think,” Ezra announces, “that’s my win.” Ze places zir last card down with a flourish.

Issi frowns down at it, before sighing. “Your win,” she agrees. “Are you really not cheating?” It seems impossible for Ezra to have done so well otherwise. Ze must be cheating—or there’s magic at hand.

“I’m only cheating as much as you are,” Ezra says evenly, which… Well, considering that Issi had started cheating two rounds ago to keep up with Ezra’s skills, she’s not entirely sure how to take that. “Still, it’s getting late. I was kinda using Berin’s vision to actually see the cards for the end of that round.”

Groaning, Issi replies, “Gods, I wish I’d thought of that!”

Ezra simply laughs at her as ze gathers the cards up before packing them away. Without the cards between them, they shift so that they’re pressed against each other. It’s not really cold, not with the campfire crackling before them and their dragons helpfully protecting them from the worst of the chill.

The silence that falls over them is quiet and comforting. Issi leans against Ezra and can’t imagine any other life.

Oh shit, incoming, Hel says, tone long-suffering. Tort head is lifted but tor doesn’t seem tense at all. Considering tort tone, Issi has a fairly good idea of who’s coming. Not to mention, Berin’s heaved sigh and shifting movements indicate that the company they have incoming are likely to join them for a while.

The beings appear in a group, landing somewhat haphazardly. Two of the three manage it alright, only one stumbling upon landing. The third, however, goes whizzing through the fire, just misses hitting Ezra, and slams into Berin’s side with a yelp.

Issi doesn’t even bother hiding her laughter, letting it ring out. Ezra shakes beside her.

The hatchlings—though Issi supposes they really aren’t hatchlings anymore—don’t go far from one another. They fall over one another, batting at each other with paws and wings and tails, and the youngest one quickly makes tor home between Hel’s paws despite Hel’s stubborn refusal to look at them.

Everyone here knows the truth though—Hel has a soft spot a day flight big when it comes to hatchlings. No matter what façade tor may try to uphold, it’s a lost cause.

One of the hatchlings settles at Berin’s side, cuddled against their wing, whilst the third sits in front of Ezra and Issi like an overgrown dog. All three hatchlings are perhaps a little bit too big to be considered dog-like these days, but that doesn’t stop Issi from reaching out and scratching the hatchling’s snout.

It’s evenings like this, with Ezra and their dragons and a flickering campfire, when Issi doesn’t think her life could get any better. It feels like home, like safety, like love.

There was a time before dragons, Issi knows. But it was not Issi’s time—her time is now, with dragons roaming the skies and sharing their campfires, with love at her side and in her heart, with Hel as her bondmate and forever beside her.

Really, what better time is there to be alive?