#i am knee deep in the other ask but i am a glutton for punishment apparently

[definitelynotkatesblog]

Lesson Learned ∣ Spencer Reid fic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Category: Smut

Summary: Curiosity killed the cat, and the tail end of a cat and mouse with Spencer might just be the satisfaction to bring you back to life. 

A/N: SHE LIVES! I am so sorry for being MIA. Work has been kicking my ass which has left me no time to write, and (insert other excuses about poor time management, etc). Anyways! Please be kind, I’m a little rusty. I love a bratty Reader and I hope you do too!

Content Warning: Masturbation (female), Dom! Spencer, bondage, mention of impact play, penetrative sex, cursing, teasing, punishment, overstimulation (mild), degradation, use of sex toys, aftercare

Word Count: 2.6k

My mother always told me ‘curiosity killed the cat’. She usually said it to keep my nose out of her grown-up conversations or out of her closet around Christmas time.

What she didn’t know, or had chosen not to tell me, was that satisfaction is what brought the cat back to life.

If curiosity was to be my demise, then my glutton for punishment could simply be considered an attempt at resuscitation.

I put on my best pair of puppy eyes and laid it on thick.

“Please?” I whined, “I just wanna try something. I saw it in a movie and it looked really fun!”

His eyes searched my face. “A movie?” Spencer asked dubiously.

I nodded quickly. It wasn’t an immediate no, which was promising. I took his hand and coaxed him gently to the chair by the small table in the bedroom. There had been many a night where I’d been taken over his knee while he sat in this same chair. I’d become familiar with and quite fond of the markings in the old wood of the legs had earned over time.

He followed behind me hesitantly and plopped down in the chair. I gave him a quick smile and went to retrieve the red rope he kept in the closet.

His brows furrowed but he remained quiet as he watched me disappear behind him.

I worked quickly to tie his wrists together, weaving the rope around the pillars of the chair.

“What movie did you see this in?” he asked, craning his neck to see me.

“Uhhh, you know the name escapes me right now, actually.”

I circled back around to take a look at my handiwork. I nodded, satisfied and met his eyes.

His eyes were dark- a doubtful look etched into his features.

A smile crept across my lips and spread to my entire face. This was the best idea I’d had in a while.

“Wh-”

“Shhh, shh, it’s gonna be great.”

***

I felt his eyes follow me around the room, my ears burning like that old urban legend.

I grabbed the small vibrator from our bedside table and tossed it on the bed before meeting his eyes.

He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, warning me.

I shrugged and padded to the dresser, rummaging through my bottom drawer for my old friend.

I produced the velvet pouch from its hiding place under old sweats and unzipped it, dramatically revealing the silicone length like a sword.

I placed it on the bed before throwing a glance towards Spencer, tied to the chair with nowhere to go. Normally when he was in the chair, I was strewn across his lap earning bruises or making myself useful with my mouth, but tonight was different.

I climbed up on the bed and situated myself so I was directly in front of him. I fluffed pillows behind me, piling them to create a prop for my back. I leaned against them, shimmying my shoulders as I stared down the barrel of the loaded gun that was his line of sight.

I kept my eyes locked to his as I slipped my t-shirt up and over my head, exposing my breasts.

Both hands came to grab and grope them, pushing them together and kneading, squeezing and gripping. My bottom lip found its way between my teeth as my fingers tugged and pulled at the quickly pebbling peaks. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, pretending my hands were Spencer’s. I drew a deep breath in, letting my breath hitch for a moment as I tugged one peak harder for effect before the air rushed from my lungs through a smile.

My hands left my chest and traveled downwards, rubbing and exploring until they reached my waist. I spread my legs and brought my head forward, opening my eyes to see a vein on Spencer’s neck protruding. I gave him a smile and ran my hand over my mound through my panties.

A moan fell from my lips but was cut short.

“Stop.”

My eyes flew to his and my hand stopped. But only for a moment.

A small smile touched my lips as I hooked both thumbs in the fabric resting at my hips and dragged it down my legs, kicking them off to land by his feet.

His eyes followed the fabric and stared at the tiny heap for a moment.

When his eyes found me again, they immediately spotted the small toy teetering between my fingers. His eyes dragged up my arm and locked eyes with me, unblinking.

The silence in the room was deafening. I could hear his breathing, low and dangerous.

There was a static charge to the air, his anger almost tangible, coupled with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I broke the silence with a flick of my finger- the buzz of the vibrator seeking contact filling the air.

His jaw clenched and flexed as I brought it between my thighs.

I started with drawing slow circles, teasing along my lips before touching it to where my body was craving it most. My back arched off the bed just slightly at the contact, followed by a quick gasp as my head fell back to rest on the pillows stacked behind me.

I could feel him staring daggers into me, the heat from his glare scorching my skin. I made more pointed sweeps of the vibrator over my clit, and brought my other hand up to knead at my breast.

My breaths quickened and hitched, the sounds of my moans and the vibrator against my slick center filling the four walls of the room.

“Stop,” he ground out.

I lifted my head up briefly, quickly losing the strength in my body to fight the orgasm brewing low in my belly before falling back on to the pillows.

A small giggle escaped my lips before they came small, needy gasps as the intensity of the vibrations against my clit grew.

“Don’t do it,” he warned. I could see him wrestling against his restraints, throwing hisnwright around and pulling his shoulders forward in an attempt to loosen the ties. Any person with a sense of self-preservation might have considered the repercussions of my little game and stopped while they were ahead.

I knew better than to finish without permission and knew better than to deny a direct order, but I figured, fuck it.

My soft gasps became a desperate plea as my orgasm washed over me. My legs shook and my core tightened as stars danced behind my eyelids. I was briefly aware of how much trouble I would be in when I did have to untie him, but those thoughts were quickly swept away as the bliss settled over my body like a fine mist.

I could feel the wetness pooling beneath me as I started to regain feeling in my limbs.

When I lifted my head again, I saw Spencer had moved himself closer, the chair angled and slightly closer to the bed than where I’d left him originally.

The fact that I could feel his anger coming off him in waves shouldn’t have excited me, but it did. I wanted to know just how far I could push him before he snapped.

Perhaps it was the post-orgasm chemicals that emboldened me, or my general inclination to be a glutton for punishment, but I summoned enough strength to reach for the other toy on the bed.

I brought it to my lips, throwing an extra loud moan in for good measure while my tongue worked and swirled around the silicone length. I dragged it from my lips, a small string of spit snapping against my chin as I dragged it slowly down my chest, between my breasts and over my tummy.

“Baby, baby, please. Don’t.” he rasped.

“Hmmm,” I feigned thoughtfulness, “No.”

I continued on my mission, breaching my own heat with the toy, alternating with slow and quick thrusts while I adjusted to its size. I stole a quick glance at Spencer who was looking absolutely feral. I gave a quick twist of my wrist, taking myself by surprise at the new angle I’d found. I continued on my mission, the quick and shallow thrusts tacked the second orgasm on to the first quite nicely.

The scream that left my lips might have been a touch performative, but the sound of Spencer’s laboring lungs made it well worth it. My chest heaved as I came down, staring at the ceiling with my hands outstretched at my sides.

I took a moment to catch my breath before sitting up and hugging my knees to my chest, daring to look at Spencer.

He looked fucking possessed. He had wiggled mostly loose of his restraints, and was leaning forward in the chair, his chest heaving as his eyes bore into mine like he was capable of seeing through me.

I knew what I had to do and figured leaving him there longer wouldn’t end well for me. I climbed off the bed onto still-shaking legs and crossed the room towards him, carefully skating along dressers and walls to keep a distance between us.

I crouched behind him, quickly undoing the rope, taking cautious steps backwards towards the bed. My eyes followed his movements, watching him bring his wrists in front of him, rubbing the indents from the fabric.

His next move was so quick my eyes couldn’t register it for my brain quick enough to make my limbs move.

He was on his feet with his hand wrapped around the column of my throat, pushing me backwards onto the bed.  

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he growled, his fingers flexing around my throat.

Maybe.

I gave him a wicked smile. “No, sir.”

“Then what the fuck was that?” he spat.

“I just wanted to make myself feel good!” I squeaked.

“Listen to me,” he started, his tone absolutely lethal, “I own you. I own this pussy. And I own your pleasure.”

As he spoke, his hand worked between us to position himself to be perfectly aligned with me.

The head of his cock dipped briefly into the pool of my arousal, gathering wetness from my previous orgasms. Without warning, he plunged into me, not stopping until he was balls deep and began thrusting with punishing force. He pushed the air from my lungs with the force of an absolute madman until I was left gasping for air, his hand still firmly gripping my throat, not at all aiding my attempt to breathe.

My hand flew to his wrist and his grip loosened, sliding up to secure a vice grip on my jaw instead. He used his hand on my jaw to move my entire head from side to side, just to show he could.

He stopped the movement with his eyes locked on mine. “This was the first and last time you do that. Understand?”

I probably should have tried a little harder to suppress the saccharine smile spreading across my lips, but I’d be damned if he just made it so hard to behave if this was my punishment.

Spencer’s lip curled at the sight and his thrusts became more purposeful, driving deeper until I felt him in my belly. A whorish moan ripped from my chest, wiping the smile clean off my face, replacing it with a slack jaw in his hand.

“Everytime you feel this good, you’ll know it was me,” he bit out, his pace not faltering.

A particularly deep thrust sent a blazing trail straight to my chest, igniting a flame that licked its way down and out to engulf my every nerve. I cried out as my eyes fluttered shut, much to Spencer’s dislike. He shook my jaw in his hand. “Open. I want your eyes,” he ordered.

I whimpered in response, my eyes barely open beneath my knit-together brows. I felt my walls fist around him, the fire in my veins reaching its original source and threatening to explode at any moment. Spencer felt the change and grabbed my ankle, throwing it over his shoulder. Our new position allowed him a new depth that felt like he might just split me in two. I cried out, the line between pleasure and pain blurring as I was swallowed by the flame.

“Who owns you?” he yelled, “Who makes you feel this good?”

His thrusts did not falter, his pace did not change, and he was not any kinder to my body despite it falling to pieces around him.

“You! God, you!” I shouted back, the only level my body recognized.

“Don’t you fucking forget it.”

His hand flexed around my ankle, adjusting his grip. I knew he was preparing himself for his own release. I hoped he was close because I didn’t know how much longer I could take his brutal workings.

He pounded away, growling and turning to nip at the inside of my ankle resting on his shoulder. That alone shouldn’t have aroused me but it did. I shook my head, wishing and willing for my body to not chase another orgasm. I was exhausted and fighting to stay coherent.

I saw him smile and shake his head, his brown mop shifting as some pieces stuck to his forehead.

“P-Please, Spencer-”

My attempt at a beg fell on unimpressed ears.

“Hmm, no,” he said, mocking my feigned thoughtfulness from earlier.

His hips pistoned forward as he found his own release, and took me with him as he both fell apart. My tired cries danced in the air with his strangled moans like our lives depended on it. I felt his warmth spread inside me, but was too exhausted and delirious to be happy about it.

I couldn’t move a single limb on my body. Spencer kissed the inside of my foot once more, a delicate press of his lips to my skin before brushing my leg off his shoulder like a piece of lint.

“Fucking brat,” he muttered as he climbed over me. A smile spread across my lips as I watched him climb out of bed through half hooded eyes.

Sometime between him walking away and closing the bathroom door behind him, I lost the battle of staying awake and my eyes shut.

*

“Baby,” Spencer whispered.

I whined in protest. There was literally nothing I wanted to do other than sleep, and nothing he could do to convince me otherwise.

“Baby.” This time, he whispered against my temple before dropping a kiss.

Another groan from me let him know I was not going to be a willing participant in whatever he was planning.

He chuckled and pulled the sheet I’d tucked under my chin down, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room.

At that, my eyes opened a bit to see him kneel between my legs with a towel. His hands were gentle on my legs as he pulled them apart, nothing like the ruthless, punishing man he was mere minutes before.

He finished cleaning me of our mess and pulled the sheets back over me, pulling them snugly around me. After a moment, he crawled into bed next to me, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oh,” he said, gently petting my hair, “If you ever plan on trying something like that again, you’d better work on your stamina”.

I snuggled closer to his chest to hide my smile. “Lesson learned,” I mumbled into his warm skin.

Final Score: Curiosity: 1 0 Satisfaction: 1

——

Let’s talk about it!

[littlemessyjessi]

And another thing! Where is the representation of my melanin queens on every day things?! I’m just really upset about alot of fanfiction right now.  Like, I don’t get it.  I’m using every fucking piece of information that I have gathered from my godmother, an indescribably beautiful melanin goddess, over the years and I’m using it in fucking fanfiction because it’s fucking important.  For example:

My godmother, Dana, is a STUNNING black woman.  She was there for me when my birth mother would straight up drop me on her doorstep and I would see her for months. 

Dana, the queen that she is, is a beacon of light and information. 

I had an interesting childhood.  

I’m a mixture of a lot ethnicities to be honest and I spent my childhood back and forth between two countries if you want to know the truth about it.   But when I was in the USA, I was supposed to spend time with her which lasted for all of about two weeks full of abuse.  Looking back, honestly being with Dana is probably what saved me. 

Anyway, personally I’m a red head but my curl pattern is somewhere between 4B and 4C.  Naturally, it has a tendency to be frizzy and is heavy on the dry side.  I have my mother’s hair. 

Dana knew this, as she grew up with my mother and actually has a very similiar hair texture. It’s just that her’s is dark. So she knew exactly how to handle me when my mother jumped ship. 

And my dad didn’t know how to do that.  He’s Serbian and white. Not to mention the fact that he worked all the time over the road trying to provide for his four children. He wasn’t around much but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be.  It’s just that someone had to provide for us and that was him.  Side note:  All of have different mothers and they’re all crazy.   I think he has a type.  He didn’t turn them crazy.  No, no. They were like that when he met them.  I just think he’s a glutton for punishment. 

Anyway, the hair. That was a foreign language to him.  I mean, he tried but he was hopeless until Dana legit showed him. 

This fucking angel introduce me to the bonnet when I was four. Four.  To this day, I refused to go to bed without a bonnet.  

She also introduced me to protective hair styles and the concept of a damn headwrap.  Which is fucking life changing mind you.  My cuban fiance, Valentina, bonded over this when we first started talking because she video calls me one morning to talk to me while we were getting ready for our respective days. 

Of course, I answer.  Still in my pjs, bonnet on my head and slathering myself in shea butter.  Again, thank you Dana for your life changing knowledge of shea butter and cocoa butter.  I attribute my good skin to you, love. I’m in my late twenties now and honestly I don’t really look any different as to what I did when I was eighteen.  Perhaps, it’s genes.  But I think it was Dana and her knowledge. 

Anyway, we’re sitting there talking and all of a sudden Val just has the biggest smile on her face and I’m like, what?

And she was just like, “I love that you have your bonnet on.” 

And I was like, “Uh, ok? Should I not?” 

And we got into a whole discussion about it and how it’s viewed.   

Listen, if I am deep conditioning my hair I will walk straight out this house with a bonnet on and not give a single fuck.  You think I’m playing but I am not.  And that’s my point.   I don’t know why things like this are looked at differently and I’m sick of it.   

What’s even more disgusting is that I would get less looks for it than a black woman.  Why?  Because regardless of the fact that I actually came out of an extremely deeply darkly skinned woman, I pass as white. 

That god damn statement enrages me to my core.  The fact that I, someone who passes as white, can do basic things like wear a bonnet or a headwrap and while I may recieve some strange looks here and there..... it’s really nothing. 

Whereas a woman of dark complexion has a totally different experience.  And that enrages me.   I used to lose my temper over it when I was about 10 or so and Dana would take me to the movies on Sundays.  That was always deep conditioning day and so we went in our bonnets.  And these mother fucking girls would snicker and point and act like fools.  I, all 4′11′’ of me, nearly got into a fight with them b/c I have a short fuse on a big bomb.  But Dana just pulled me back and told me not to worry about it.  But I was upset.  Dana is literally one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, inside and out.  And I couldn’t understand how someone could be so nasty.   We had a talk that day about skin and why it was different.   I mean, I knew Dana and I have different colors to us but I never thought much about it to be honest.  

She was very honest with me in her experiences and she told me that we were different and even though that shouldn’t make a difference at all, for some people it did. 

Cue tiny preteen Kenny going on a fifteen minute rant until she gave me pineapple and tajin and told me to chill out, lol. 

Also, if you’re not putting tajin on your pineapple, what are you doing?  You’re missing out and I highly reccommend you see to it immediately. 

She told me the best thing to do was to ignore them and to just live my life.  And I see her point but I also don’t.  Because if you always look the other way then nothing changes b/c it just keeps getting swept under the rug.   

Dana is a lot nicer than me.  And perhaps, she’s smarter b/c she’s older and she just knows more than me.  But I will not stand for this! 

I realize how ridiculous that may sound but I don’t care.  I will call someone out on it in a heartbeat. 

I just get heated about things I feel strongly about. 

So all this to say that I was listening to this video where a girl was talking about how upset she was about the lack of representation in fanfiction and I was just consumed with anger b/c she’s right! 

And I was just so pissed. Poor Val listened to me rant forever before she just called Dana and was like, ‘Please calm down your child.” 

Because yes, as far as I’m concerned, Dana is my mother.  Not my birth mother. 

And, lol, Dana told her, “Just give that little hot cheeto some pineapple and tajin. Or make her some kool aid.  She’s just gotta rant for a minute and get it out of her system.” 

And Val said, “I tried to give her kool aid.  She spazzed out and drank half a pitcher.  Now she’s on a sugar high and she’s worse.” 

I’m assuming Dana told her to just hand over the phone and she promptly told me to calm down before she came over to deliver an ass whoopin.  

And then she asked me what was wrong and so I told her. 

And so she said, “Just write the fanfiction how you want it.   That’s what you’ve always done. So if you want to see mentions of bonnets in stories, start putting them in.   Make it a point to create scenes that specifically give you an opportunity to showcase some of that stuff.  Talk about the struggles of finding a foundation that actually matches your skin tone.  Talk about wash days and co washes.  And for the love of the all mighty, please mention to someone to put some damn lotion on their elbows and knees.  I’m tired of seeing these ashy ass people.” 

And we talked for quite some time about it and she made me feel better.  Like she always does.  I didn’t come out of her but Dana has always been my mother.  And always been there for me.  Always given me the best advice.   Always knew just what to say when my emotions wreck me. 

So I know a lot of you like my reader content and I’ll continue to do that. I promise.  I mostly just do plus size reader. But maybe we’ll include some specific POC plus size reader.  I mean, that’s not new for me.  I’ve done that before but you get my point.  The only way to get passed some of these irritations and unfairness is to normalize it to the point of common knowledge. 

And you might be seeing more and more POC OC’s from me.  This isn’t new either as I’ve got plenty of them.  But you might see an influx lol.  Because I’m upset about it and b/c it’s deserved.  You know what I mean?  

Also, for the love of god, please please please if you are writing reader insert when you are talking about someone blushing... jesus christ, Dana could be embarassed and you’d never know b/c she is literally as dark as a dark chocolate bar.   Blush doesn’t show on her skin tone and I can imagine it doesn’t show on a lot of deeper skin tones.  It doesn’t on Valentina and she’s cuban caramel candy.  

There are other ways.  Like heat creeping up the neck or whatever.  You know what I mean.  

Also, the ‘he ran his fingers through my hair’ bit?  Ugh.  First of all, with my hair.... I’d like to see them try.  Second, don’t. touch. my. hair.  

Just saying.  There are other ways.

Anyway, thanks for listening. 

And Dana, if you’re reading, cause I know you come read my stories sometimes- thank you for listening and giving me good advice.  As you always have.  I love you and I’m just really thankful you’ve always been there for me and taught me so much.  I love you, Mama D.

Love, 

Kenny

Also, ya’ll pray for me.  I have a whole pitcher of kool aid, that I made so it has way too much sugar in it.  And if I can’t calm myself down, Valentina may murder me.  And ya girl is trying to get some tonight, lol. 

P.S. If she does away with me and you never find my body, someone just tell Idris Elba, Queen Latifah, Sebastian Stan and Aaron Taylor Johnson that I love them and that I died well.  

Probably not though.  

Valentina is mean.  She’d make me die a slow and horrible death. 

Like depravation of cuddles and chocolate. 

The horror. 

Shit, I like her feisty though. 

Anyway, I’m rambling. 

I love y’all and that’s really all I had to say about the issue lol. 

[syntheticpoetry]

Kintsugi

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have a mature heart to heart involving Blaine's insecurities. 

Tested reaction fic where I just really gratuitously expanded on the dialogue and included the missing smut scene that very obviously must have occurred off camera.

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Author’s Note: So during our Tumblr Gleewatch group viewing I was left wanting so much more out of this scene and it kinda just spiralled from there.  There's some smut, but a lot of dialogue driven conversation following the canon dialogue where I felt like the conversation should have continued rather than end with their little heartfelt hug.  The way Blaine just shattered and started crying and Kurt just held him with a straight face.... yeah.  There was definitely more that happened there.  So here you go. See more notes on the end explaining the title.  Huge thanks to @blog-carmex​ for beta reading for me and offering her invaluable input :D 

__________________________________________________________

It has been three hours since class ended.  Three long hours since Blaine watched Kurt stride right past him without so much as another word after they changed out of their fencing gear.  After their sparring match they had retreated to opposite ends of the classroom, huffing in silence and shooting daggers at one another.  The mutual refusal to speak to each other had persisted all the way into the locker room where Kurt then proceeded to peel off his shirt in front of everyone.  Blaine had slipped into a bathroom stall to change, a mix of embarrassment and guilt beginning to wash over the anger as he shimmied out of the white pants plastered against his sweaty skin.  By the time he had emerged again Kurt had shouldered past him, tight lipped with eyes fixed in the distance, leaving Blaine to stand alone, his mouth hanging open and staring dumbly after him. 

“I just find it funny that we haven’t been intimate in like a week and maybe this is why.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I got up early and forgot to text you.”

“You know what, Blaine? Sometimes I think we talk too much.”

After class Blaine had retreated to Kurt’s apartment in the hopes of another attempt at conversation, but has been melding himself into the couch for the last two hours with nothing but the silence and Kurt’s words to bounce around his skull as he waits for him to return.  It feels like such a stupid fight.  All of their previous discussions about just going to one another to air out their grievances, to talk about when things are bothering them feel like a distant memory.  Blaine tried to talk to him.  He tried to take the steps that they had outlined.  But Kurt just shut him down.  Kurt didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to let Blaine try to explain himself.  Instead they were left to physically act out their aggressions in combat class of all places.  Okay, so maybe Blaine wasn’t being completely open about the extent of his insecurities, but Kurt’s instant decision for distance and his ability to become an ice prince once Blaine had actually tried to initiate a conversation reminded him why it has always been so difficult to speak his mind.  

Blaine is terrified.  Terrified of rejection, terrified of Kurt finally peeling away his loosely fastened mask of confidence and seeing him for what he truly is— a coward.  He had never felt brave until the day Kurt stared at him from across that table in Dalton like he was this wise old sage so full of advice and wisdom.  It had been so easy to slip into the disguise, to feign the persona of a boy who had suffered and prevailed.  Who was he kidding? Prevailed.  What a joke.  Blaine knows that whatever semblance of true bravery he ever possessed in the first place to compel him to bring a boy to a school dance in Ohio had been beaten away all those years ago in that parking lot.  He told Kurt that he ran from his bullies and regretted it, but the truth is he knows he is still running.  That he has never stopped.  

Not like Kurt.  Kurt, who had suffered in silence for months at the mercy of his own bullies and still emerged with his head held up high.  Kurt, who had experienced his own hate driven assault, and had learned to become stronger and stand his ground so much quicker than Blaine could even begin to wrap his head around.  Kurt, who is so much braver and resilient than Blaine can ever imagine himself being.  Kurt, who does not actually need Blaine to guard him and guide him the way that he once used to. 

And it terrifies Blaine to feel this insignificant again.  To become a shadow of doubt beneath a rising sun.  

The door to the apartment slides open and Kurt strolls in, phone pressed to his ear, instantly catching sight of Blaine on the couch.  Blaine hunches over, arms resting against his knees, and braces himself for the explosion.  All afternoon he has been waiting for Kurt to return, but now that he is actually here his instincts are screaming to just get up and run.  Keep running.  Don’t stop. 

“Yeah, he’s here.  Okay.  Okay, bye,” Kurt slings his bag onto a chair at the kitchen table and turns to Blaine.  “That was Rachel, she was just confirming us for her opening night.”

“What’d you tell her?” Blaine asks.  

“I said, ‘Yeah, if we don’t kill each other in combat class, count us in,’” Kurt replies, eyes trained carefully on Blaine.  Blaine does not want to return the focus though, choosing instead to tip a can of ginger ale into his mouth to douse the desert in his throat.  Little distractions for idle hands and a restless mind.

“What happened in there?” 

Here it comes— the avalanche.  There’s a sudden tightness in his chest as he avoids meeting Kurt’s eyes.  “You were really coming at me like— like… as if you had something to prove. What, I’m not sure.”

“That I’m as strong as you are,” Blaine says.  The words sound surprisingly more bitter and resentful than he had initially intended them to.  He remembers his place— don’t lose control — and tries to reign in some of the tension, just bottle it back up again.  

“Okay,” Kurt says and strides towards him.  Blaine takes note of the distance he keeps between them, the minuscule gap that feels like the Grand Canyon.  Is it intentional? “But it’s not a contest.”

“Isn’t it though?” Blaine responds with the same bitterness again.  “On some level? Cause for the first time in my life, I really feel like I’m losing.”  

He can feel the loss of the control, the steady spiral into the depths of despair and uncertainty that he has trapped himself in for months.  The knot in his stomach twists itself tighter, yet he cannot help himself.  Once the train derails, there really is not much else to do but let the collision run its course.  “I’ve felt that way ever since I got to New York.  I feel like,” Blaine sets the can down and waves his hand between them, “We’re in this race together and you are just so much farther than I am. Like, it just feels like the whole balance has shifted.”

“What balance?” Kurt’s eyes narrow.  He takes a seat in an armchair, keeps his distance. 

Now he really has gotten himself in too deep.  

“I guess it started when we first met,” Blaine shrinks back against the couch, avoiding Kurt’s piercing gaze.  “And you came to Dalton because you were trying to get away from Karofsky, and I wanted to help you through that.”

“And you did,” Kurt says quietly.

“And I loved the way that felt.  I loved it,” Blaine swallows and leans his head back against the couch, speaking to the ceiling.  “I loved being able to protect you, but now I look at your life and…”

And now it hurts.  Now it feels like I don’t fit into any part of it.  Now it feels like I have never been, nor will I ever be enough for you because you don’t need me anymore.  Nobody needs me the way that I need you.  Why is this so hard?

“It’s completely different,” Blaine finishes and finally settles his eyes onto Kurt.  “You’re a star at school, you have all these cool new friends, you started this band and I just,” Say it.  Stop hiding.  Say it.  Tell him. “I feel like you don’t need me anymore, to protect or anything.”

There is a glint in Kurt’s eyes that sends Blaine’s heart careening down into his stomach.  This has been a mistake.  Saying anything at all, letting his guard down— it has all been a mistake.  He springs up suddenly, anxious to disappear.  “I mean, you asked me to move out, for God’s sake,” He murmurs bitterly as he walks past Kurt.

“We made that decision together,” Kurt replies, tone heavy and unimpressed, as he spins around in the chair to face him.  “So is that what all this stuff is about that’s going on? I mean, you trying to get me to eat more?”

You are missing everything.  You are missing the entire point.  Do you even see me when we’re together? Can’t you tell?

“I don’t like the way I feel about myself anymore, Kurt! Okay?” Blaine’s raised voice takes them both by surprise.  Through the open window, the sound of sirens permeates the post-confession silence.  Blaine closes his eyes, already feeling the tears clinging to his lashes.  He knows opening his mouth again is going to be yet another mistake, but so far he has been a glutton for punishment and self pity tonight, so what more is there to lose? 

“And you have this amazing new body— do you know why we haven’t been intimate? It’s because I feel insecure around you.  I feel insecure around my own fiancé, and Fratboiphysicals.com isn’t gonna judge me!” 

Somehow this feels worse than keeping everything bottled up.  The terror of Kurt’s reaction leaves him feeling dizzy and sick as he finally opens his eyes to absorb the blow.  Somehow Kurt’s eyes exude a softness beneath the two smoldering flames.  A sort of fierce protectiveness that only leaves Blaine feeling more pathetic than he did in the first place. 

“Neither will I.  Ever ,” Kurt responds and stands up to approach him.  “But I am not going to apologize for not being some delicate flower that needs his boyfriend to protect him.”

“Kurt, I—”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right.  Maybe it is a contest.  Maybe that’s the way it has to be with two guys.  But I would much rather be running this race with you than against you.”

Blaine knows what it is to be lectured.  Understands all too well that familiar feeling of being put in his place, his actions chalked up to overdramatics and oversensitivity.  Looking up at Kurt towering over him, he feels even smaller now.  Whatever certainty he possessed, whatever feigned strength he must have siphoned off of Kurt when he entered the apartment to stagger his way through his confession has evaporated completely, leaving behind a hollow shell.  His words come out apologetic and frightened, tiny and remorseful. 

“Me too, I just—”

“As equals ,” Kurt says sternly.

Equals.  Something about the word flips a hidden switch.  Equals.  He has never felt a kinship with that word before, never understood what it felt like to stand beside someone and hold each other up, sharing the weight.  He has always struggled to be the pillar for someone else, to mask the cracks in his own foundation.  Something about the way Kurt says it makes him feel ashamed.

“I know, I know,” He presses both palms over his eyes, keeps pressing until spots of crimson and white appear scattered across the darkness behind his eyelids like bursts of fireworks.  “I-I know.  I know that , I’m so sorry.  I’m just…”

I am not worth this.  I am not worth your time.

“I’m just so scared that you’re gonna...” 

His throat constricts because he can already envision it.  He drops his hands, shaking his head, and focuses on the door just past Kurt, pictures him walking right through it like it is the easiest decision he has ever had to make.  Kurt holds all of the power in this relationship, and Blaine knows that.  Knows that whatever semblance of equality Kurt is preaching about right now is only a mirage.  Blaine ruined their perfect balance the night he let his demons take control of his emotions and lead him to that weak moment of infidelity.  One more wrong move and they are bound to break again.  But Kurt does not walk away, he stands before him and continues to wait patiently.  

“I’m just so scared that you’re gonna keep changing, and you’re gonna keep getting stronger, then one day you’re gonna wake up and realize, ‘I don’t love him anymore.’” Blaine shrugs his shoulders, tears glistening, and smiles in resignation to the paranoid confession as fact.  Even children discard their favourite toys once they are broken beyond repair.  So why would this be any different?

“Never,” Kurt replies, his gaze unwavering on Blaine.  The quiet intensity of his determination makes Blaine’s stomach lurch again, anxiety twisting tighter and tighter.  “I’m always gonna love you.  And I don’t want you to be insecure or ashamed around me.”

It’s only when Blaine exhales that he realizes he had been holding his breath, clinging to the tension in every centimeter of his muscles.  

“Next time you’re going through something like this you— you have to be honest with me.”

Blaine can feel himself nodding without any actual control, like it is a trained reflex in place to diffuse the rest of the uneasiness and settle the confrontation.  Anything to make this stop.  His lips go numb, eyes still fixed on the door as the next word comes out on autopilot, drained and defeated, “Okay.” 

Kurt’s arms around him spark the calamity laying dormant though, pull him away from the resignation and suddenly he is grasping at every inch of Kurt that he possibly can, sinking into the embrace as though clinging tightly enough will fill the gaping hole in his chest.  The ebbing shame becomes a tidal wave, crashes over and over again and threatens to drag him beneath the riptide as Kurt’s thumb brushes over his shoulder blade.  He feels so undeserving of such kindness and patience.

“Blaine, I think maybe we should have a conversation about where all of this comes from,” Kurt presses his lips to the thick layer of gelled hair atop Blaine’s head.  “Don’t you think?”

“What more is there to say? Can’t we just cuddle on the couch for the rest of the night?” Blaine mumbles against his neck.

“Don’t deflect, I think this is the most honest you’ve ever been with me about yourself and I want you to keep talking to me,” Kurt pulls away, hands on Blaine’s arms to push him back enough to look at him.  “I want you to feel like you can talk to me because you know I’m not gonna judge you.  I love every piece of you, no come on, don’t look away,” Kurt’s hand is immediately beneath Blaine’s chin, tilting his head back to center.  There has always been a sadness buried beneath the constant glimmer in Blaine’s eyes, usually well hidden and mostly undetectable.  In these rare moments of vulnerability, that sadness is always directly on display. “I love everything about you, even the pieces you try to hide away from me, especially those.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers urgently, his face contorting as he struggles against the grief, and tries to keep the controlled tears from transforming into full on ugly crying.  But Kurt does not let him go.  Kurt does not let him look or run away.  

“How many times have you seen me cry? There’s no shame in letting go sometimes, Blaine.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Blaine breathes out.  He tries to take a step back, but Kurt does not drop his arms.  They remain firmly wrapped around him, rooting him to the spot.  “I don’t want—”

“I’ve got you, and I am not letting you go,” Kurt says.  “You remember what you told me the first time we met?”

“I said a lot of things,” Blaine closes his eyes and feels the warm streaking of tears down his cheeks.  He has cried in front of Kurt before, but he’s never cried in front of him.  The breakdowns have been reserved for solitude, behind locked doors, hidden away from the world.  

“You told me that you ran away when things got tough, and that you regretted it ever since.  Don’t run from me too, Blaine— stay.”

The perfect catalyst.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine chokes out.  “I’m sor—sorry, I’m sorry,” He continues murmuring, the words becoming an incoherent jumble of consonants decorating the layer of heaving sobs and gasps for air in between.  With eyes shut tight, he nestles his face back into Kurt’s neck, body trembling against his steady arms, and continues mumbling the only two words his brain seems capable of conjuring. 

“Blaine, honey,” Kurt strokes his back and presses kisses to the top of his head.  “Blaine, why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine shakes his head, forehead against Kurt’s shoulder.  “I don’t know.” 

Now that it’s begun, it feels like it will never end.  Control feels like a foreign language as he continues to shake and cling to any part of Kurt he can get his hands on.  

“Come on, come here,” Kurt commands soothingly, leading them over to the couch.  He drops down, pulling Blaine onto his lap.  Blaine snakes his arms around Kurt’s neck, burying his face into his own arm.  “I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The reassuring words seem to be having the complete opposite effect on Blaine and only draw out more tears.  Crying feels like an effort rather than a cathartic release.  The mask has finally been ripped away, leaving him feeling exposed, dissected.  He feels weak.  Ashamed and self-conscious.  How could he lose control like this? What’s worse, how can he be so incapable of reigning it back in?

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” Kurt won’t stop pressing kisses to any area of skin he can reach.  His lips are warm and wet against Blaine’s temple.  Something tangible he can tether himself to.  “Please?”

How do you condense years of pent up doubts and microaggressions of self-sabotage into a logical explanation?  Where do you even begin? 

“You know,” Kurt runs his fingers over the protective layer of gel, wriggling them in between to break up some of the strands.  Blaine bites down on the inside corners of his bottom lip and allows Kurt to continue burrowing his fingers past the barrier.  He had caked on so much of it after class it is a wonder Kurt is even able to break up any of it at all.  Yet his dexterous fingers reach beneath and he massages Blaine’s scalp.  It’s another calming, tangible gesture Blaine can tether himself to. “I have that keyboard in my bedroom.  I can get that if you would rather sing something first right now.  Usually helps you open up.”

The more Kurt’s fingers tangle and twist his hair, the calmer he feels.  Once the tears have ceased enough he trusts himself to speak.  “Okay,” Blaine has to mouth the word first before clearing his throat and rasping it out.  He shuffles off of Kurt’s lap and spends the literal seconds of his absence wrenching his fingers together, both legs bouncing hurriedly against the wood floor.  Kurt returns, keyboard secured underneath his arm, and sets it up on the coffee table in front of the couch before taking a seat beside Blaine.  Before turning it on Blaine runs his fingers over the plastic keys.  Will it ever get any easier to channel his emotions without a crutch? Kurt simply sits and watches, palm draped over the small of his back.  Blaine exhales, the breath shuddering with the weight of all he tries to expel to lend his voice the strength to begin.  He slides the switch up to turn it on and positions his fingers on the keys, gently tapping out a somber melody. 

“ When you come home I feel the earth start to change, I am alive, I am alive, I am in love with this place. I love it most how you whisper my name And so I catch it in a bottle for my lonelier days.”

He never has to think when it comes to music.  His fingers always seem to know just what notes to play.  And the words always come easier when they are borrowed from someone else.  He shifts closer to the keyboard, hands steady and certain as he continues with the melody.  Kurt understands him so well, knows just the right things to say and do to coax him through the storms. 

“The moment slows inside the palm of your hand, Oh I could stay like this forever or as long as we can. And in the morning I pour a warm cup of tea And hope you'll stay a little longer, stay a lifetime with me.”

He straightens his back, puts more vigor into the tempo as he pushes past the fear and lets his voice crescendo into the next verse.  The one that means the most.  The one he wishes he could say without having to hide behind the safety blanket of song.  Maybe someday he can learn.  But for now it is easier to parrot the words that bare a glimpse into his heart. 

“Cause when you go, like summer gives to the rain, I am uncertain, but I'm certain I am losing my way. When you let go, I don't see straight anymore— I am unwinding, I am broken, I am losing my core.”

His voice breaks on the last line, raspy and watery with the weight of tears once again.  He closes his eyes, languidly drags his fingers over the keys, lulling back the gentle melody as Kurt slides his hand up to his mid-back.  He continues with the interlude, repeats it, drawing out the time to build up the courage to continue again.  Kurt shifts closer beside him, wraps an arm around him and rests his chin on his shoulder.  Tangible.  Comforting.  Reassuring.  

“There is a door that opens at the sight of your face, I feel it all, I feel the warmth of every long summer day. And like an angel, you circle back with a kiss, You are the one I'm dreaming of, you are the one, you are the one. You lift me up with every step that I take, You are the reason, you're the answer when I'm drifting away. And through it all, when I start making a mess, You are forgiving, everlasting. You're my everything.”

The warmth of Kurt’s breath raises the hairs on the back of his neck.  When Kurt’s lips press into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder the notes start to get sloppy, crescendoing and decrescendoing when a wave of goosebumps runs its course throughout his entire body.  He abandons the keys, voice so low that some of the sound cuts out as he half-whispers a fragmented collection of the remaining lyrics.

“You are the one who holds my heart. When you come home I feel the earth start to change, I am alive, I am alive— there is a reason to stay.”

They sit in the stillness for a while, Kurt’s arms fastened loosely around Blaine’s waist, with only the distant muffled sounds of the city coming to life in the early hours of a Friday night to keep them company.  Unlike the bustling renegades of New York City, there is no sense of urgency or obligation between them tonight.  Blaine sinks back against Kurt’s chest, sluggish and exhausted, but he knows the night is nowhere near its finale.  The song was merely an introduction, a segue into the next section of the grand orchestral piece.  

“I remember telling you once that I’m not good at romance,” Blaine breaks the silence.  “That I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this.”

“Probably the biggest lie you’ve ever told,” Kurt responds affably.  Blaine can hear the tentativeness as he tries to keep the conversation light and playful and knows he is trying to work out just where he is headed with this train of thought.  

“Is it though?” 

“Blaine, you are probably the most romantic person I know.  I used to think I was the hopeless romantic in this relationship, but you definitely have me beat.” 

“I hate that phrase,” Blaine says indignantly, trying to shrink back against him more, but there is nowhere else to go.  Kurt deciphers his body language and embraces him tighter. “Hopeless romantic— why does it have to be a hopeless romantic?” 

“It’s just a phrase.  Of course you aren’t hopeless,” Kurt begins pressing kisses to wherever he can reach again.  Blaine closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch cushion.  Maybe Kurt was right.  Maybe a week without intimacy really was far too long.  The soft desperate whine that falls from his lips as Kurt continues to litter his neck with delicate kisses definitely suggests as much. 

“Kurt, can we—”

“Soon,” Kurt says.  “We aren’t done talking yet.”  He sucks the skin at the base of Blaine’s neck between his teeth and gnaws gently and Blaine can feel the slight upturn of his lips against his skin as he lets a sharp, breathless exhale slip out. 

“Well, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to concentrate if you keep—” Kurt moves his head away, only centimeters but he may as well have relocated himself across the room.  Blaine scoots closer, practically sitting on his lap again now and whines, “No, no, no! Come back!”

“How about we play a game?” Kurt replaces his lips on Blaine’s neck and runs his tongue over the reddened bite mark. 

“What kind of game?” Blaine rasps out, shivering as a new wave of goosebumps breaks out. 

“A game of trust and honesty,” Kurt raises his head to whisper against Blaine’s ear.  Blaine turns ever so slightly to face him, their noses touching, vision blurred and unfocused at such a close distance.  

“Sounds like truth or truth instead of truth or dare.  What are the rules?” He asks apprehensively.

“I’ll ask a question, you give me an honest answer.  You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but if you do you can tell me what to do next,” Kurt replies.  At Blaine’s continued exhibition of hesitation he adds, “We can even take turns, if it makes you more comfortable.  You can ask me anything you want.” 

Blaine tilts forward, resting his forehead against Kurt’s and hesitates before he nods a fraction of an inch.  “Okay.  Who goes first?” 

“I’ll ask first,” He leans back and Blaine falters in the absence of his support before adjusting, back straight against the couch cushion.  Kurt twists sideways, shoulder against the couch back and places one hand over Blaine’s.  “Why did you pick that song?” 

Blaine furrows his brows, tilts his head slightly, caught off guard.  The song choice seemed self-explanatory.  “Because it makes me think of you.” 

Kurt doesn’t ask, he says, “Elaborate.”

Blaine squirms, doesn’t understand.  Didn’t he listen to the lyrics? What more is there to say? Kurt merely smiles back at him, interlocks their fingers, and waits. 

“Well, I guess because that’s how I feel with you.  You make me feel safe.  You remind me what it is to truly be alive and without you I feel,” He stops, throat suddenly tight.  

Lost.  I feel so lost without you sometimes.

“Feel what, honey?” Kurt prompts softly. 

“Lost.” The word sounds small and fragile when he says it and yet it feels so heavy now that it is out in the open.  But Kurt shows no indication of surprise at the confession.  On the contrary, he seems pleased, as though this is exactly what he was hoping to hear. 

“Why?” He rubs his thumb into the back of Blaine’s hand.

“Because,” Blaine starts and stops again.  Talking used to feel so effortless between them before he had created this rift.  Ever since their breakup every word has come carefully selected with the fear that it will be the absolute wrong thing to say.  Just because Kurt has agreed to marry him, that does not mean he cannot still change his mind. And what if he does? Blaine cannot even bear to think about that.  “Because you make me feel like I am really worth something when I can’t remember why.  You gave me— us, you gave us another chance and I am so afraid of fucking it up all over again because you are the best thing to ever happen to me and I can’t… lose you again.  I can’t go back to being alone and just pretending to be brave because everyone expects it of me.” 

He feels winded by the end of it.  One question in and already the endeavour feels draining.  Kurt’s expression is unreadable when Blaine summons the courage to look him in the eyes.  Is that… fear? He lifts one leg, drapes it over Blaine’s lap and leans forward to kiss him.  Blaine kisses back hungrily, desperately.  

“Tell me what you want and then it’s your turn to ask,” Kurt whispers against his lips.  Blaine swallows, already half-hard from the simple act of kissing.  With the weight of an entire day of silent brooding being lifted, his body cannot help but remind him just how desperately he needs to be touched.  Needs to be needed.  How many questions will they have to get through first though? 

“Bite my neck again, harder this time though,” He requests.  And Kurt obliges.  He allows himself to be swept in it for the moment, palm riding over Kurt’s thigh as he feels the gentle brush of teeth and tongue over his skin before he sucks and bites and fuck that feels good.  Too soon though, he stops and Blaine wants to whine and protest but remembers what he is waiting for.  Right.  A question. Something he is afraid to ask, but wants to anyways.  That look in his eyes… Okay.  Truth time.  He can do this.  

“Does that scare you? What I just said.”

“A little bit,” Kurt does not even hesitate, which does nothing to quell Blaine’s nerves.  It feels like a slap in the face, affirming all of his fears to be true after all.  A strange swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach leaves him looking crestfallen, but Kurt slides a hand up to caress his cheek and continues.  “I think you use me to define yourself and measure your worth a lot of the time, and that’s the part that scares me sometimes.  I don’t want you to need me to tell you that you are enough, I want you to feel it because you know it.  And I have a funny feeling that this is something you’ve been doing long before we ever met.” 

Kurt holds his face there, eyes soft and intense.  Blaine’s lip quivers, eyes darting wildly as he searches Kurt’s face.  Searches for what? He is not wrong.  Deep down, he knows he is absolutely right.  For as long as he can remember he has tethered himself to the attention of others, weighing his worth in compliments and just being noticed at all.  Kurt had just been the first one to take it a step further, to love him in all the ways a human being could be loved, to make him feel seen and needed and wanted .  He does not know how to verbalise this though, so instead he asks, “What do you want me to do?” 

“Take off your sweater and your shirt.” 

“Shouldn’t we move to—”

“Rachel has rehearsal all night, she won’t be back for a while.”

Blaine’s eyes automatically dart to the door but he nods stiffly and works the sweater over his head.  He moves his hands to the base of his shirt, pauses and swallows.  Yes, Kurt does not want him to feel insecure around him.  But one conversation is not going to fix that.  With the way they’re sitting on the couch, with the lights completely on— Blaine is completely aware of how he will look once that shirt comes off.  Kurt presses a kiss to his cheek and slides his hands over Blaine’s, murmuring, “This too, my beautiful boy.”  Pink in the face, Blaine licks his lips and allows Kurt to help him lift the shirt over his head.  He tries to sit up straighter, keeping his eyes on Kurt to distract from the way his stomach protrudes and hangs over the edge of his pants.  

“Your turn,” Blaine says, throat taut, so the words come strained and thick. 

Kurt languidly drags his fingertips over his bare chest, just drinking him in for a moment.  He rests his palm over Blaine’s heart before he asks, soft and loving and gentle as he possibly can, “Why do you think I would just get up and leave you? Where does that come from?”

It’s immediately evident why Kurt has positioned his hand over his chest when Blaine instinctively tries to sit forward, ready to stand and pace and will himself to vanish because, remind him again— why do they have to be doing this right now? Why can they not just be naked and sweaty and rutting against each other, drowning out the need for words and difficult conversations between desperate kisses and breathless moans in the dark? 

You were right, we talk too much. 

Kurt’s hand moves deftly over his chest, warm and reassuring, and his voice comes as eloquently and unwavering as it has all night, “Remember, you can skip, but I hope that you don’t.” 

How is he supposed to just shut him down after that now? It is a request, not an obligation, but Blaine wants to please him, wants to make him proud.  Because what does their relationship even mean if he is too afraid to speak to his own husband-to-be about the horrible things he has only whispered within his own head for years and years and years? 

We’re getting married.  He wants to marry you.  The hard part is over.  He said yes.  Just let him in.

“Because,” He inhales sharply, exhales it into a long trembling breath and holds his hand over Kurt’s, pressing harder against his chest.  Kurt nudges himself closer, wraps his other arm around his shoulders and draws him in.  “Because everyone else does, so it feels like it’s only a matter of time before you do too.” 

“This has to do with your family, doesn’t it?” 

And of course Kurt knows already.  Of course he has just been waiting for Blaine, stupid Blaine, to come forward and finally say it.  How can he possibly have been this clueless? Despite the recent miscommunications and misunderstandings, the missteps in their natural abilities to decipher each other’s body language with nothing more than a glance of understanding, how could he ever think that Kurt would not know how to trace the root of all of it with such precision that he may as well just write the instruction manual on how to operate Blaine Devon Anderson? 

“How stereotypical, right?” Blaine asks, partly because he does not know how else to respond, but mostly because he is soberly aware of the fact that he is sitting here, shirtless and defenseless, ready to cry for what feels like the thousandth time in the past week and just wants to maintain the shattered art of deflection.  Sardonic and dizzy and bitter and angry with himself for bottling it up for so long when it was always in plain sight to begin with, he can’t help but think—  So much time wasted.  And for what?  

“Stop that,” Kurt says quietly, tone so serious it feels like a kick straight to the ribs.  Kurt was usually the one to crack a joke, humour cynical and so biting that he could take the edge off of anything.  But then again, that was usually reserved for his own tragedies.  Today has not been about laughing away the pain and self-deprecation, he has tried to make it something more.  “Don’t make it less than it is.  It’s something that matters to you, don’t make it a joke.” 

“Sorry,” Blaine says, a pre-programmed response that makes Kurt’s brows furrow in what can only be perceived as disapproval.  He simply shakes his head though, runs both hands over Blaine’s bare chest and varies his gaze, eyes darting back and forth between Blaine’s lips and eyes. 

“You barely talk about them.  I don’t know if you even still talk to them.” 

Blaine moves to fold his arms over his chest, another defensive play that Kurt refuses to yield to.  He moves his leg off of Blaine, drops it to the floor and then he’s tugging and coaxing and murmuring affections until Blaine is situated on his lap, their torsos pressed firm.  The material from his sweater is scratchy and rough against Blaine’s bare skin and he thinks, desperately, Please just take that off and fuck me until I forget. 

“Do you?” Kurt asks delicately. 

Blaine swallows and the words come out thick as molasses, “Coop, sometimes, if I call him.  My parents,” He licks his lips, shimmies down against Kurt’s lap so he can hide his face into the crook of his neck.  With arms firmly around his waist, he presses fingertips into his back, that damn scratchy sweater, he just wants to rip it off of him and beg and beg and beg— make me forget, just make me forget. “My mom texted me when I first moved to New York to ask if I made it, I haven’t heard from her since.” 

“And your dad?” Kurt probes cautiously.  

A pause.  Blaine spends the next few seconds just breathing against his neck and presses his fingertips down harder.  “Fuck my dad,” He finally says, quiet and fragile.  It is a wonder the words don’t crack and slice his throat right open on the way up.  

He feels Kurt’s arms, so strong and protective, close tighter around him and maybe it is the silence that follows— because when does Kurt Hummel ever become speechless?— or the way Kurt keeps pulling and squeezing, trying to weld them together as one or the sudden influx of scattered kisses he presses to his forehead, but something in him shatters .  His entire body shudders with the riptide of the sob that courses through him, but Kurt just holds him steady, rocks and whispers his little mantra, “I’ve got you, I love you, I’ve got you.” 

“Hate him, I hate him— He’s just— And I’ve never been able to— He hates me, he's always—”

Blaine hiccups and babbles and gasps and cries, unable to pluck one coherent thought from the rush of water now that the dam has finally broken wide open.  Kurt presses his lips to his forehead, whispers affections and instructions against his skin, and strokes his hair, his arms, his back— every possible inch of him that exists, Kurt is sliding his hands over, fingertips grazing and pulsing.  Drained and dazed from the weight of everything the insane idea enters Blaine’s head— if you’re looking for the ‘off switch’ I have no idea where it is either.

One shuddering breath collides into the next with no space in between until Kurt is lifting his head, cupping his face between both hands.  He tries to twist away, but Kurt’s thumbs stroke his cheeks, hold him steady and Blaine is just so tired he has no strength to fight him.

Please don’t look at me, I can’t stand it. 

“Sweetheart, you’re hyperventilating.  You’re gonna pass out if you keep going like this.  Just let me help,” Kurt’s thumbs brush over his cheek bones, already red-raw and stinging.  Blaine burrows his fingers deep into his back again and barely notices the feel of the sweater he has been scornfully regarding as he nods a few times between Kurt’s hands. 

“O-o-o-k-kay,” He sputters, gasps and cries some more, wishing, again, to just simply disappear. 

“Purse your lips together, I’m gonna count while you breathe,” Kurt kisses his forehead.  He closes his eyes, tries to focus on the feel of soft, wet lips against his skin and nods again.  He makes it to three on the trembling exhale before breathing in, sharp and quick.  Thumbs against skin, lips against forehead, they reset.  Kurt continues kissing his way across his face between murmured instructions, lips planting invisible X-marks-the-spots all over the raw geography of familiar terrain like it still needs to be thoroughly explored and mapped out.  Blaine has been so focused on following his voice, desperate to latch onto each whispered command, he does not realise his breathing has slowed until their lips are finally touching.  He lets Kurt take control, allows himself to be cared for and coddled and carefully handled like he is actually a broken sheet of glass filled with cracks, bound to shatter at the slightest hint of pressure. 

Lips still pressed together, he whispers into Kurt’s mouth, “I feel like such a mess.”

“My beautiful boy,” Kurt breathes back and it is a conscious effort on his part not to just start crying again because fuck , he feels anything but beautiful right now.  “We can stop for now, if you want.  I know that was a lot.” 

“No, I want to tell you.  I–I know that I just… shut down sometimes, but I want you to know.  It’s just,” Blaine leans backwards enough to look him in the eyes.  “It’s hard for me to talk about these things.” 

“I know,” Kurt’s thumb brushes his cheek again and Blaine leans into the touch.  “Take your time.” 

“I feel like I don’t even know him, you know?” 

Kurt just watches him, one hand still caressing his face and the other rubbing gentle circles into his back.  Kurt doesn’t know.  Kurt will never know.  Blaine releases a shaky exhale before continuing. 

“He was never home, always working.  And when he was home it’s like we were living on two different planes of existence, I felt invisible around him.  He hasn’t been able to see me for a very long time.  And my mom has just been so checked out— honestly, she’s been a mess for as long as I can remember.  It was just— It wasn’t a happy home, Kurt.  Cooper got out the second that he could, and I can’t really blame him for it.  Even though we didn’t always get along and he was constantly trying to show me up, it was really lonely without him.  I didn’t have a lot of friends at school, there was no Glee club— no safe space for anyone who was gay.  It was just me and one other kid who were publicly out.”

“The one you went to the dance with?” Kurt asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Blaine nuzzles his neck and breathes in deep.  “Afterwards he told his parents going to the dance together was my idea, and it was, and that was it.  They didn’t want us being friends anymore, they blamed me for what happened and he just… walked away.  Well, I think they moved, but he just stopped talking to me.”

“I’m sorry.  That must have been— I’m sorry,” Kurt kisses the top of his head. 

“My parents shipped me off to Dalton after that.  I didn’t even want to go at first, if you can believe that.”

“Really?”

“Really.  A boarding school with a dress code and a bunch of snobby rich kids? I was dreading it.  But it became home.  They didn’t care that I was gay, they accepted me right away.  Then joining the Warblers? There were so many times I was convinced I was just in a coma and dreaming the entire thing up.  We were treated like rockstars, it was the first time I felt good about myself in a long time.”

“Now I feel bad for making all those snarky remarks about everyone just being back-up singers to you,” Kurt says, earning a quiet laugh from Blaine. 

“Well, you weren’t wrong.  You were right to call it out.  The whole reason I fell in love with being a Warbler was because everyone had an equal say, I just got so swept up in finally being noticed that I lost sight of the fact that there were probably some other guys that wanted to be noticed too.  You kept my ego from overinflating.”

“You seemed like the most confident person in the world to me when we first met,” Kurt says.  “I never would have guessed you struggled with any self-esteem issues.”

Blaine shrugs nonchalantly and presses a kiss to his neck.  “You didn’t know because I didn’t want anyone to know.  We didn’t… talk about feelings at my house.  You started bringing that out in me, making me believe I didn’t always have to hide and pretend.  But I lose sight of that sometimes, I guess.  It’s easier to just shut down and bottle it up, but you’re right… I have to be able to come to you, we have to be able to come to each other.  I’m— I’ll be better, I promise I will.”

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me.  I’ve been able to guess at some of it for a while now, but hearing you finally say it— I’m proud of you.  I always want you to feel safe with me, so I hope that you do talk to me more about things like this that are bothering you.”

Blaine nods against his shoulder, eyes stinging and blurring.  He does not know why he expected anything other than absolute understanding and compassion from him, why it was so difficult to force the words out in the first place.  

“Do you want to keep talking?” 

Make me forget.  Love me and don’t let me go and just make me forget everything else. 

“I think I need a break from talking.  I just need you, I—”

And then Kurt is kissing him and Blaine is kissing back like it is the first time all over again.  He catches Kurt’s lips with his teeth, sloppy and hungry and desperate to be as close to him as possible because the great gaping canyon in his chest demands to be filled.  Please! Please! Please! His heart thumps away the greedy melody and when Kurt pulls away, widening that endless cavern, he actually whines .  But Kurt is tugging at the sleeves of his sweater— normally a crime , you always pull from the collar, he constantly tells Blaine— and Blaine’s hands hurry forward to help him strip it away.  

Blaine has watched him while he works out, has witnessed firsthand the care and consistency and the effort behind those hardened muscles in his arms and chest and oh god those abs .  He is like a living statue and Blaine is the only one privy to the private viewing of his full display of perfection.  How could he let his stupid insecurities keep him from this? 

“You’re staring.”

Without even looking Blaine can tell he’s smirking.  “Can you blame me?” 

He looks up to see another playful smirk, and that Kurt is staring right back at him, lower lip ever so slightly tucked in beneath his teeth.  Fuck .

“So,” Kurt says, voice low and husky.  “You still have to tell me what you want me to do next.”

Make me forget.  Make me forget. 

“Take control,” Blaine says softly.  When Kurt’s hand travels up his thigh to fiddle with the button of his pants, he rasps out, “I’m all yours, take control.”

The caress of lips against his jaw, the ice cool touch of smooth fingers dipping below his waist band, teasing and exploring— Blaine closes his eyes and surrenders himself to sensation.  Who needs pretty words when he has the tender touch of a lover’s fingertips to ignite bursts of starlight beneath his skin? Kurt’s hands find his and the gentle pull against them forces his eyes open where he finds Kurt ushering him off of his lap.  He shifts off and allows himself to be lifted as Kurt stands, eyes alight with curiosity and wonder until Kurt’s mouth is on his again and he is lost, lost, lost once more.  

Kissing Kurt is everything.  Early November and his lips are slightly chapped, leaving only the faintest hint of his current favourite chapstick.  It reminds Blaine of their nights nestled up by the fireplace in Dalton, coffees from the school cafeteria in hand and stealing vanilla and mocha flavoured kisses in between every break in conversation.  He forgets that they are standing in the middle of Kurt’s living room, forgets that they are drifting through borrowed space as Rachel or even Santana, devious in her ways of sneaking around, could waltz in at any minute despite Kurt’s insistence that they won’t.  As Kurt hooks his thumbs into belt loops and draws him closer, both of their bodies desperate for the heat and friction, he forgets about his insecurities and doubts.  There is only the handsome man before him and nothing else in the world matters. 

Lips locked, Kurt navigates them towards his bedroom.  Neither of them wants to disentangle from each other long enough to lead, Blaine just has to trust him not to let him trip.  His knees hit the edge of the bed and buckle, but Kurt grips his hips, digs his fingernails in and grinds their bodies together until they’re both moaning into the kiss.  His pants feel unmanageably tight at this point now. 

“Kurt—” 

“Working on it,” Kurt kisses his way down to his neck, teeth gnawing sweetly until first the button, then the zipper and Blaine’s suddenly being pushed backwards onto the bed.  He hastily props himself up on his elbows, panting softly, eyes lust blown and following Kurt’s every move.  He’s kneeling down in front of the bed, yanking Blaine’s pants off from around his ankles now and every second feels like it is being stretched too long.  Finally free though, his cock bounces against his stomach, throbbing and aching by the time Kurt settles between his legs.  Blaine’s eyes dart to the bedside table, hand just starting to reach out when Kurt bends over and curls his fingers around his cock, flicking his tongue over the head before sucking hard.  He pulls his mouth off with a faint pop! and brushes his thumb over the underside of the head.

“F-Fuck,” Blaine trembles, arm outstretched, its purpose completely forgotten.  “You’re right, a week was too long.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Kurt says and takes him completely into his mouth, palm cupping his balls.

“Jesus— Fuck!” Blaine instantly bucks his hips and fills the spaces between his fingers with Kurt’s hair, breathless as he quickly adds, “Sorry, are you—”

Kurt hums his response and hollows his cheeks, breathes in through his nose and takes him further down.  They have just barely gotten started and already Blaine feels himself coming undone.  He struggles to keep his hips steady, but Kurt is moving torturously slow through all of this until he just stops moving his head altogether, mouth very much still full of Blaine’s cock and he could honestly scream because how dare he just stop like that—

Oh. 

Blaine knows what he wants. 

“Please,” The word comes hungry, breathless and on the verge of a whine.  “Please, I need you, please—”

And Kurt’s head moves backwards, sucking as he goes until he reaches the tip of Blaine’s cock, where he flicks his tongue over it playfully.  Blaine balls up the sheets of the mattress in his other fist and tugs on that instead of Kurt’s hair, the quiet desperate moans falling out of him like whispered secrets in the night.  Kurt pulls his mouth off of him again, turns his head and kisses the inside of his thigh, before biting down and sucking.  Blaine hisses in a breath, knuckles turning white, and lets Kurt mark him.

Yours, I’m yours, and no one else’s.

There is a moment when Kurt pulls away to rummage through the nightstand when Blaine cannot help but to stare again.  How far they have come from the shy teenager who could not even look him directly in the eyes when discussing pornography.  He remembers so vividly the day Kurt lamented he would never see himself as sexy , the word whispered with such discomfort like it was dirty and inconceivable.  It was the day they were practicing in the mirror, Kurt had been trying so hard to get the look right but ultimately kept shying away, embarrassed and self-conscious with the effort, saying Blaine just made it look so easy.  Neither of them had a clue what they were doing, but disguises had always come easy for Blaine.  Now, Kurt looks up at him, dark-eyed, mouth slightly parted before that devilish smirk takes over again, and Blaine is weak and breathless beneath his gaze.  How the times do certainly change.  

Kurt’s fingers are already coated in lube when he starts kissing Blaine’s thigh again and circles one finger around the tight ring of muscles.  Blaine wants to rush ahead, squirms his hips down and Kurt tuts disapprovingly, leaving him to lie still once again and wait patiently at his mercy.  He really can be such a goddamn tease sometimes.  But he does not make him wait long before sliding one finger in, stroking and twisting, until Blaine pants, “More, please, more.”

He takes his time, adds another finger and scissors and stretches him as Blaine squirms and begs beneath his touch.  Only two fingers in and Blaine is beginning to completely unravel, hips involuntarily jerking up as Kurt strokes and twists and kisses and bites, leaving tiny reddened marks all along his thighs.  It never takes Kurt long to find that sweet spot, and sure enough Blaine is arching his back and panting as his fingers continue to brush over and massage his prostate.  Slowly, he withdraws his fingers and when he pats the side of Blaine's leg and tells him to sit up he cannot help but whine loudly in protest. 

“So impatient,” Kurt says, eyes twinkling with amusement as he settles himself against the headboard and tugs until Blaine is positioned above his lap.  Kurt’s in control, but he knows this is Blaine’s favourite position.

“Condom?” Blaine’s thighs are already shaking as he holds himself up.

“I trust you,” Kurt replies, bringing his hands up to cup his face, voice so low and sultry it is a wonder Blaine doesn’t just stagger into his orgasm right on the spot.  “And I want you to feel it.”

What did I do to deserve you?

Blaine groans into the kiss as Kurt strokes himself, coating his cock with lube before he holds it firm for him to lower himself down onto.  The sweet heat and friction already feels like it is almost too much to bear.  There is no way he is going to last like this, and they both know it.  He positions his hands on Kurt’s chest, sinks all the way down and pants loudly against his mouth, pausing to let himself adjust before rising up again.  Kurt relocates his hands to his hips, fingernails digging in and helping him rise and fall, their rhythm slow and synchronized.  It doesn’t take long before it becomes more sporadic and urgent, Kurt’s hips bucking up as Blaine’s thighs tremble and burn to match his rhythm until he’s hitting just that right spot again.  He yelps his moan, fingernails burrowing into Kurt’s skin.

“There, there, there— right there!” Blaine exhales quickly, winded and sweaty as he clenches and shakes.  With the way Kurt’s gripping his hips he knows there are going to bruises where the thumbs sink in.  The thought of it alone sends a rush of heat up his spine that erupts as another breathless gasp.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Kurt groans out.  “ So fucking gorgeous.”

Blaine’s laugh comes out half-strangled as he gyrates his hips faster, thighs trembling violently as he slams one palm against the headboard to keep himself balanced.  “So are you, fuck, so are you.  So—” Kurt slides his hands down, cups his ass and quickens his thrusts, throwing the rest of Blaine’s thoughts to the wind as he all but crashes his head forward against the headboard and cries out.  He becomes acutely aware of Kurt’s mouth against his chest, of his tongue circling his nipple, but barely registers Kurt’s breathy laugh, “Sorry, you okay?” 

“Don’t stop,” Blaine breathes back.  “Don’t stop, don’t— fuck, you feel so good.”

Kurt sucks on his nipple as Blaine’s breath hitches, heavy and desperate.  Kurt slips one hand down and closes it around his cock, earning another loud strangled sound somewhere between an exhale and an actual word.  

“You’re perfect, you’re so perfect— Kurt, fuck I’m gonna—”

Kurt works his hand faster, hips bucking wildly as Blaine cries out again, stars exploding behind his eyes as he comes.  Kurt cups his ass again, squeezing and panting heavily against his neck as he keeps thrusting, chasing his own orgasm only seconds later.  Blaine’s legs give out, leaving Kurt’s firm grip on his ass, his hips still jerking upwards sporadically, as his only support.  Blaine keeps his eyes closed, fingers curled tightly around Kurt’s shoulders and forehead resting against the headboard, as Kurt finally slows to a stop.  He does not want to move, does not want Kurt to pull away and leave him feeling empty again.  As though reading his mind, Kurt holds him there, pressing lazy kisses to sweat soaked skin as Blaine’s body continues to tremble. 

“God, I missed you,” Kurt whispers, raising his head enough to kiss his neck.  

“I love you,” Blaine rasps out.  “So much.  More than anything.” 

Kurt feigns a dramatic gasp, lips brushing against his neck and tickling him. “Surely not more than hair gel.”

The smile on Blaine’s face almost hurts before they both break out into laughter.  

“Need some help?” Kurt squeezes his ass playfully, earning a soft, sleepy moan. 

“My legs don’t work anymore,” Blaine laughs breathlessly, limbs heavy and useless.  Their earlier conversation feels like a lifetime ago.  

“I’ve got you,” Kurt says soothingly, lips back against his neck.  

In the post-orgasm haze Blaine is barely aware of their movements as he comes to settle down beside him, limbs tangled and still desperate for touch.  Kurt wipes cum off of his stomach with a tissue— Blaine cannot help but think about the midnight trip to the laundromat they will most likely be taking to salvage the sheets— before he draws him in close, those strong arms like a promise and a safety blanket.  It is moments like these he loves the most, where the world stops spinning and they are frozen in a perfect carefree moment of mutual adoration and comfort within each other’s arms.  

“I’m sorry about your dad, about all of that,” Kurt suddenly says softly, jarring him from the temporary peace.  

“Not your fault,” Blaine mumbles, snuggling in closer to him as though melding their bodies together physically will drive away the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness starting to creep in all over again. 

“Do you actually hate him?” 

“No, of course I don’t.  I just wish,” Blaine sighs and presses a kiss to his chest, arm curling tighter around Kurt’s waist to keep himself tethered down.  “I just want him to be proud of me and it really hurts that he’s not, that I basically don’t exist to him.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Hmm?” Blaine asks distractedly. 

“Have you ever thought about talking to someone?” 

“What do you mean?” Blaine shifts his head, too lazy to actually lift it off of his chest, and settles his eyes on Kurt’s jaw. 

“Like a therapist,” Kurt says carefully.  Involuntarily, Blaine stiffens between his arms.  “Have you ever thought about that?”

Blaine sluggishly drags his hand over Kurt’s chest, fingers tracing invisible patterns.  Kurt tilts his head down, nose pressed to his loosely gelled hair and breathes in deep before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “I might have,” Blaine whispers, heart thudding violently now.  Kurt has been nothing but understanding and patient, yet the anxiety still clutches tightly and forces him to want to retreat and hide.  

“Maybe you should,” Kurt says gently.  

“Maybe,” Blaine parrots quietly.

“I’m not suggesting something is wrong with you,” Kurt adds, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

How could you tell?

“It just might be good to talk to someone unbiased, don’t you think?”

Blaine continues trailing his fingers over Kurt’s chest, silent and pensive.  He had certainly contemplated the idea plenty of times in the past, never sure of where to even begin.  After the attack at the dance, when Kurt moved away, when they broke up— every time he had come remotely close to researching, shame and panic had chased the idea away.  

“Say something?” Kurt asks softly and runs his fingers through his hair, far more pliable now that the gel has been somewhat dissolved by sweat.

Blaine’s hand stills against his chest and he props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at him.  There is no judgement on his face.  Those eyes like endless oceans of concern and compassion.  Everything about his expression screams I see you, I love you and I see you.

“You’ll uh,” Blaine starts and struggles to hold his gaze, his first instinct telling him to stare at anything other than his eyes.  “Will you help me look for one?”

“Of course I will.  We’re a team, aren’t we?” 

The smile on his face makes Blaine’s heart beat just a little faster, but there is no feeling of shame behind it.  “Yes.  We’re a team.” 

He settles down in Kurt’s arms again, but silence between them never lasts long.  It is only a matter of moments before Kurt’s speaking again. “Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”

Blaine furrows his brows and tilts his head up towards him again.  He is always full of these random little tidbits of information.  “No? What’s that?”

“It’s a phrase used in Japan.  It’s the art of mending broken pottery.”

“Okay?” Blaine trails the word out, the tickle in the back of his throat not quite a laugh just yet.  He usually has a point when he brings things like this up, but sometimes he does not.  Right now it is not obvious which side of that line he is on.

“Instead of using clear glue, they use powdered gold or silver, usually gold.  So when they put the pieces back together, they’re not trying to hide the fact that it was broken.  The process of being broken and repaired is part of its history, and they choose to highlight and display that fact by turning it into something new with these golden scars to show for it.  I think that’s beautiful, don’t you?”

“So, are you calling me broken pottery?” Blaine asks, the laugh finally breaking free.

“No,” Kurt replies, placing two fingers on his chin to tilt his head up.  “You’re a perfect work of art with a history to show for it.”

And as he leans forward, eager to press their lips together and soak up as much of him as humanly possible, Blaine thinks, And you are the artist.

________________________________________________________________

The song Blaine sings is When You Come Home by Mree, which instantly made me think of our boys when I first heard it.

I don't remember where I first learned about Kintsugi, but I became absolutely obsessed with it.  To be able to take something broken, mend it and showcase all of its imperfections as something beautiful and apart of its history... just something about that really hit close to home for me.  Here is one example. Take some time to google image search some pieces, they are absolutely breathtaking.  And I think it is a perfect metaphor for how we can come to deal with our own traumas.  

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.

[katsukikitten]

Meal for one

You groan silently as you slide agaisnt the kitchen counter. The microwaves hum the only sound. Your body screams as you reach for your water and you snarl at the audacity of the bottle to be placed so far away.

Training was getting harder and longer. Especially now that your third year was quickly approaching. Lucky enough to still be with your friends, well more your family now, that was class 1A. You had been late to dinner tonight, well more like every night since your second year ended, you were studying and working your ass off in training to try to keep up with your amazing peers.

One more so than the others. Not that he would notice.

At least not anymore.

You are so lost in thought that it takes you several seconds to realize that the microwave is counting down from five.

You try to catch the microwave just before it ding but sadly the sound seems to echo in the overly sized kitchen as you growl to it to shut the fuck up.

When you remove your meal with unsated anticipation, eager to eat as you haven't had the chance all day. Your stomach growls audibly as you set the burning hot container on the counter.

You pull back the flimsy film all for your mood to sour.

Your little meal for one was cooked far too long, it needed only three minutes but you hit eight by mistake in your haste. And it didnt help that the display on the appliance only half worked.

You stared at the sorry shrivelled up pieces of chicken in the now mushy brocolli and fought back your frustrated, exhausted, borderline giving up on this whole hero thing tears.

All you wanted to do was eat your pathetic meal and get some rest before the new semester started tomorrow.

Was that too much to fucking ask?

The universe seemed to think so.

"Oi." His voice calls behind you and you stiffen.

The voice of the boy, well now becoming man, that you've been avoiding since that accidental and very drunken kiss at the beginning of the summer at that party that Mina just had to fucking have.

"Why are you making so much damn noise? I can hear you all the way in the living room." He growls and you sigh.

The two of you could have been called friends.

ONCE.

But no longer.

Suddenly you're brought back to the party.  The loud music of the memory competes with the heart beat in your head as you see his perfect face.

The room spins, you giggle placing your lips so quickly onto his after confessing.

"I've always wanted to fuck you Katsuki-kun. But not that one and done shit either."

He stiffens beneath your lips, pushing you harshly and you stare at his face.

Contorted in horror and rage.

You really fucked it all up.

You tongue your cheek damning your brain for being such a glutton for punishment.

"Yea yea I know this fucking extra does it all wrong all the time." You bite trying hard to control your voice. You slam your meal into the trash as deep red eyes follow your movements.

"You cooked it to trash it? You idiot." He spits and you grip the counter top to keep yourself from encircling your hands on his throat.

"Yea, that's how I eat now. Burn it to fuck all and then have sleep for dinner." A bitter laugh escapes your lips before your voice betrays you.

You clear your throat, keeping your head down while burning tears spill onto your cheeks as you start to make your way past the muscular hot head. Youd sell a part of your soul to have Toru's quirk right about now.

Sadly you do not and Bakugou grips so tightly onto the crook of your arm you'd think he was apprehending a criminal.

You make the mistake of giving him a harsh glare out of instinct, eyes still rimmed with defeated tears. You watch as his eyes narrow to slits.

As if he could see into that fucked up head of yours.

He pulls you back harshly and slams you against the counter top. The handles to the lower cabinets bite into your ass and you half yelp before gripping onto his arm tightly.

"Bakugou." You growl so lowly you feel him tense, "I'm not in the mood."

"Nether am I." He stares into your soul for a moment more before he lifts you light as a feather onto the countertop, he forces your legs open so his body can fit arms trapping you on either side.

So close that the sides of his thumbs dig into your thick thighs and hips.

He looks you over in your next to nothing training outfit of a sports bra and too tight too short shorts.  He takes silent note of your skin tone and how it is lackluster when normally you glow after a work out. His eyes find the deep bags beneath your own next before he sucks his teeth at how far you've let your body down.

Pushing it to exhaustion and not even fueling it properly.  He butts his forehead to yours angrily and with enough gusto that a bruise begins to form on both yours and his third eye chakra.

"Ow what the fuck?!" You rub at it harshly.

"Dont. Fucking. Move." He says as he backs away, eyes glued to you before he turns his back to rummage in the fridge.

He makes quick work of starting some sort of PROPER meal for you as you sit by the stove top, for once obeying his command.

Though you'd do anything to take back that kiss and have your normal rapport of teasing back. Your blush is delayed as you realize how close he made himself to you, at how close his lips were and you feel the ghost of his thumbs in your hips.

You swallow your desire as his horrified face flashes in your mind. You distract yourself easily as you watch him saute the chicken perfectly slowly adding the vegetables before adding the bean sprouts last. He opens the cabinet to grab a fresh plate only to be greeted by an empty shelf.

"Fucking really?" He hisses staring at the overwhelming pile of dishes in the sink. You begin to ease yourself down from the counter to wash a plate.

It's the least you can do considering he made you a whole damn meal at 1130 at night. Sacrificing his favorite movie for your shitty sake.

Your movement alerts him and he whips his head faster than you've ever seen him before.

"Didn't I tell you not to fucking move?" His expression matches his tone, dark. You hoist yourself back onto the counter  before placing your hands up in surrender.

He grumbles as he cleans and dries your dish and utensils before finally plating the dish with such meticulous detail that it should be served in a restaurant instead of to you. You sigh reaching for the fork and reluctantly take a bite.

You moan from the delicious melding of flavor before your scarf the whole meal down.

You're so absorbed in your meal that you almost forget about Bakugou even as he moves around the kitchen to clean his mess. You dance as you eat, taking bite after mouth watering bite. You pout audibly when your fork scrapes agaisnt an empty dish.

"Heh." The sound pulls you from your bliss and you're met with a staring Bakugou. Suddenly you are hyperaware of the whole situation.

Katsuki didn't cook for anybody and you couldn't remember the last time he had cooked for just you. You shrug it off as you think of something clever.

"So what do I owe you for the meal?" You tease leaning closer to him as he watches you.

"A kiss." He retorts with a cruel smile as you look away.

Cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment.

"I..." You swallow your pride, "I'm sorry okay Bakugou?"

"What?" He snaps.

"I said I was sorry Bakugou don't play deaf."

"Not that." A hiss, "What is my name?"

"Bakugou." You say slowly as if he were dumb to which his eyes narrow.

"Try again, Y/N"

You glare, dumbfounded, you hadn't spoken to him majority of the summer. Hell youd barely been in the same room as him and so suddenly he wants you to say his name?

"Katsuki." You offer dryly after his stare does not let up. He gives you a look as if expecting more. You snarl before biting out.

"Katsuki-kun."

"That's not how you normally say it but I guess I can still reward you." He produces your favorite chocolate, the kind that's hard to find and your eyes widen.

"Ah so I did remember right." He teases as you reach for it. He pushes agaisnt your stomach until you stop leaning on him to get that damn sweet treat.

"Please Katsuki-kun?" You allow that old softness into your voice that you only reserved for him. He stops for a moment, making good work at hiding the heat creeping on his cheeks as a mean smile sets on his kissable lips. He positions himself back between your legs, your knees rest slightly onto his hips.

"Open wide." He says placing a single square onto your outstretched tongue. When you moan from the melting chocolate and close your eyes he bites his lip.

He had almost forgotten all about the sparkle in your eyes, the way your voice said his name like a prayer and the sounds that you made.

He swallows thickly as you hold out your tongue for more.

He pushes thoughts of you like that on your knees away. Biting the inside of his lip and damning you for kissing him that day.

For opening the flood gates on what he was so desperately fighting against.

"This time close your eyes and keep your mouth shut."

"Why?"

"Just do it." You obey and wait eagerly for more chocolate. You do not feel him shift beneath you and you grow impatient and a little self conscious as you worry he is staring at you despite only a few seconds ticking by.

Suddenly you feel warmth on your lips as his have captured yours and you cannot help but moan against him as his hands squeeze onto your thighs. He nips at your bottom lip for entrance to which you oblige. His hands work up and down your frame before one finds the hair at the nape of your neck, fisting it to deepen the kiss.  Your hands fly for his shirt, desperately moving beneath it to do what you've always dreamt of doing.  Running them along his chiseled chest.

You kiss for awhile, long enough that by the time he is done you're both panting, adoring swollen lips.  You flush.

"Ba.." He gives you a look and you clear your throat, "Katsuki-kun what was that for?"

"For dinner dumbass." He says kissing you a final time before leaving you in the kitchen by yourself.

Your fingers fly to your lips and you think about how he tastes much sweeter than any chocolate you've ever fucking had.

[eyeslikefoxglove]

Episode 15 - Stop fucking shooting fucking kites & Fuck this shit I’m out

Welcome! So I am apparently a glutton for punishment because here I am, after saying I’d probably wait for the anger to go away before watching the next episode, already watching and still pissed off, get ready, I might get really snarky with this one.

And now I wonder what would’ve happened if JFM had just let sect leader Yao kick the bucket.

“Jin Zixuan is somewhat a decent person.” High fucking praise coming from WWX if you ask me.

Ok this goodbye scene is a cute way to show in which sense JC is similar to Mme Yu, tbh. You could say they’re similar bc they have this very harsh way of talking (which I don’t actually mind, I have RBF and am as done with everything as JC so...) but nope, they’re similar in the way they worry about others. It’s kind of a cool dichotomy btw two people having the same temperament, yet one is a terrible person and the other a loving one.

[btw I’ve seen a couple of posts floating around here about how fucking terrible JC actually is and I’m not interested in that narrative, I think he’s a good, person, deeply flawed, but like everyone else is]

Hi! This is the day after, I did end up going to do some yard work, which was pretty much me holding up a ladder my mum had no business climbing and she raining dry twigs and leaves on me.

One frivolous thought here in the middle of all this angst and worry, I really love JC’s clothes.

Just when I was starting to pity WC he had to go and get that delighted expression on his face when WRH told him to go kills people.

STOP FUCKING SHOOTING FUCKING KITES.

THEY ARE ALL SO CUTE AND THEY ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, FUCK THIS SHIT I’M OUT.

Listen, I know it will do jackshit but I love WWX poking holes in JiaoJaio’s “the kite is like the sun” rant.

Am I too cynical or was it incredibly obvious that “punishing” WWX would do jack to pacify JiaoJiao? I’m just asking, because while I do think Mme Yu is fucking terrible, I don’t want to assign blame unduly. I mean, they came with soldiers, she’s sitting on the throne, she’s been a rude little bitch and ranted about conspiracies and now she wants to punish someone who she very well knows the Jiangs don’t consider a servant (Don’t get me started on the classism); wasn’t it a bit too naive of Mme Yu to think a whipping would make JiaoJiao back off? I don’t think she’s naive, so that means she’s just unloading on WWX as usual, with a bonus of an audience, which brings me back to her being terrible. Or is there an actual cultural thing I’m not getting?

MY BB JC LOOKS SO FUCKING HORRIFIED. Petition to change Angry Lotus for Soft Lotus when referring to him. This is the boy some of you said has always hated/been jealous of WWX and could not wait to get an excuse to abuse and murder him? The same boy who’s protecting him with his own body, on his knees and begging? Sure Jan.

Also, small Zidian tangent with a side of “JC is a good boy”, I haven’t counted the lashes but let’s say he got 10. 10 lashes is enough to have someone as strong and WWX laid out for a month. When JC hits him with Zidian in Dafan mountain to “expel the spirit” WWX gets up pretty much right after, yes it was only one lash and he’s complaining, but he’s got no core, got beaten up and fell down a hill earlier that day, so I’m assuming he’s not in the best of shapes. That, combined with the sad+defeated face JC makes when no spirit is expelled really leads me to think he absolutely thought it was his brother and pulled the hit. I might be reaching, but anything to not have to think about what’s actually happening on my screen.

Back to this fucking mess now:

I am going to shank Mme Yu at this rate ngl. Again, she keeps giving into JiaoJiao’s demands, and she seems to think they won’t keep climbing higher, is she blinded by her hate for WWX or have I missed an indicator that JiaoJiao would be satisfied with the hand?

Should I talk about WWX’s willingness to let himself be mutilated? I’m kind of reminded of Jamie Lannister (he’s a fave, again, don’t @ me) and how understandably fucked up he got after losing his dominant hand, as he says “I was that hand”. Now, we all know that isn’t true, but with WWX’s self-worth issues why wouldn’t he measure his worth by how useful he can be? He’s a hell of a fighter, and that’s what “makes him useful” in his own eyes. Right now he thinks he’s being useful by letting them cut his hand off, but if he survives the mutilation what exactly will he be worth afterwards? Just think about it for a second, and cry.

When JiaoJiao says she likes you I think it is time to reconsider all your life choices up to this point.

Oooof ooooof, ok ok, lots to unpack in those sentences. “You should look at the owner before you punish a dog” & “How dare you come here and penalise my family members before me” they’re both kind of terrible. On one hand, she’s recognising WWX as part of her family and no one is allowed to touch them, on the other hand, is in the role of someone way below her actual family, and it is very clear that, while no one else is allowed to hurt her family, she is, which is not super great tbh. So yay Mme Yu finally recognised WWX as family, not so yay she still is a terrible abusive person? Even worse because it looks like she’s come to terms with WWX being family long ago, yet she kept treating him like garbage all this time?

Ok but Jinzhu and Yinzhu are badass tho.

This might be the only instance you will read me cheer for Mme Yu but here we are I guess.

I AM WEARING MASCARA AND I REFUSE TO CRY

You know what would’ve made me 10000 times more sympathetic towards Mme Yu? If, after she screamed she hated WWX she would’ve hugged him too. Deal with me for a second. JC and Mme Yu are very similar aren’t they? They’re harsh, quite angry, and, although they care no one will catch them showing it. When JFM scolded JC saying to not blurt things out in anger I hoped this would be what happened with Mme Yu, she’s angry and worried, so she’d babble some bullshit at WWX. But she also knows she’s going to die, so I thought, that, as a goodbye she’d at least show him some affection as if to say “I care, but I’m also a very angry bitter woman and there is no time to put it in words, take care of each other.”

Do I still dislike her with all I have? Yes, but I can recognise she’s the only maternal figure our Yunmeng sibs have ever had and, terrible as she might be, they still love her and losing her is going to hurt a lot.

Ok ok, another sad musing for y’all. WWX told JC to stop JiaoJaio, yet he (understandably) got distracted trying to help his mum against WZL. We’ve all seen the super sad scene of these two in the tall grass and JC trying to strangle WWX screaming “it is your fault I want my parents” and yet WWX wasn’t the one stopping JiaoJiao, JC was. How many of you wanna bet JC fully believes it is his own fault the siege was successful and blaming WWX out loud is his way of projecting all the anger he has toward himself?

Even sadder musing. When Shijie gets injured, he’s holding onto her from behind, Shijie sees the man going for WWX and has time to push him away yet JC doesn’t. Once again, another person he loves is dead because he was distracted, and on cue again, he lashes out at his brother.

I am not saying that’s healthy or that the fact that he didn’t go for the killing blow in either of those instances is praiseworthy but I’m pretty sure he fully believes all his family is dead because of him, so yeah.

Back to the show now:

So I’ve got a bone to pick with JFM, yes yes, it is very sad, another parent who is walking to his death saying goodbye to his children, but look at the way he does it. He touches JC and Shijie’s faces and tells them not to cry, he then pats WWX on the shoulder and tasks him with taking care of them. I don’t know if he’s so deep down the rabbit hole that he truly thinks that, bc WWX is an orphan, his death won’t affect him the same way it’ll hurt is kids or what. But that was fucking cruel and yet again, explains soooooo much of WWX’s trauma. Neither parental figure spared a word of affection for him before dying and he can’t remember much of his parents, so it’s not like he has their heartfelt goodbyes either.

ETA: so I just noticed that JC and WWX are holding hands at the end of the episode and, I’m assuming, they’re also holding hands with Shijie. Fuck me I’m crying.

You guys my black cat, who really doesn’t like cuddling, just came up to me for a head rub, so just imagine how sad (and angry) I must be feeling. Or maybe she’s just hungry.

Anyway thanks for watching.

[writteninsunshine]

Hush - Father Anthony Burke/Maurice “Frenchie” Theirault - NSFW

Title: Hush Author: Donnie Fandom: The Nun Setting: Father Burke’s Church Pairing: Father Anthony Burke/Maurice “Frenchie” Theriault Characters: Father Anthony Burke, Maurice “Frenchie” Theriault, OC: Denise Genre: Romance/Spiritual Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2755 Type of Work: One Shot, Part of the Sins Of The Father series Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Sin Kink, Church Kink, Confessional Booth Glory Hole, Jealousy Kink, ABO Dynamics, Mating (Mentioned), Knotting, Vaginal Sex, Interrupted Sex, Voyeurism, Prayer Kink, AU - Canon Divergent, AU - Modern AU Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Denise and the other OCs mentioned. Summary: If Anthony Burke knew one thing about Maurice Theriault, it was that he was a glutton for punishment. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 Here we have another dirty thing with Father Burke and Maurice. Who knew I would be able to bang out so many words for these two? I guess I have a problem. xD But, regardless, they’re fun to write and I’ve been able to get a lot done, so I’m proud of that, at least. Here we go! All prayers used within are actual Catholic prayers, if that bothers you, please do not read this. This is a very heavy church and sin kink fic, and if you cannot handle that, DO NOT READ IT. I will not interact with people telling me I’m bad or need Jesus or something.

The Nun Fic Masterlist

Hush ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Stepping into the confessional booth after midnight, Maurice felt flighty and exhilarated. He drew the sign of the cross before himself before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago.” “Two weeks?” Father Burke commented, off-handed but uncharacteristic to his usual attitude, “It seems you have been busy.” “I… Oui.” Maurice answered, “I’ve been thinking impure thoughts, Father. I feel as though I need to be bred by every Alpha I see.” There was a low rumble of a growl on the other side of the wall, and Father Burke had to cover it with a cough. “Just being around certain Alphas I know makes it unbearable.” A slick, wet sound filled the confessional as he slid his hand into his track pants to touch himself, and Father Burke’s scent picked up in interest. “Every Alpha?” He asked, unable to tamp down on the subvocal growl in his words. “Not everyone gets me as wet as you do, Father.” Came the sultry answer as Maurice let himself have a small moan of pleasure, rubbing his fingers over his clit. Eyes rolling back, his jaw dropped, “Can you hear me, Father? Smell me? You do this to me so often… I can barely make it through a sermon without needing to touch myself.” “That is… Sinful, indeed, my son. I… I do indeed smell you. And hear you.” There was a rustling of fabric on Father Burke’s side and it was clear he was readjusting. “This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” Maurice offered through another moan, and Father Burke finally opened up the small door between the booths. “Your penitence is to serve me, and through me, the Lord,” Anthony replied, accent thick with arousal as he pushed his cock through the hole. “Use your mouth for me.” That growl was still there, thick and possessive as he presented himself. Maurice slipped to his knees in the booth, slurping at the elder’s cock and dipping his tongue underneath the foreskin, just like he liked. Already, he heard the other’s head thunk against the wooden wall between them, and he couldn’t help but take him all the way into his throat. The choked sob of a moan that left the elder man made him giddy and excited, bobbing a few times in rapid succession. Maurice’s throat was warm and wet and tight, just like another particular part of him that he liked, and he couldn’t help but feed himself to him a few times, giving shallow thrusts into his mouth. Anthony panted, moaning unashamedly as he rolled forward, though he was struggling to get that confession out of his head. Every Alpha he saw. Despite Maurice falling into an easy rhythm, he finally pulled back entirely. “I want you in here, with me. Now.” His voice left no room for arguing, so Maurice gathered himself and exited his half of the booth while Father Burke closed the door between them. He stepped in, immediately being pressed into the door when it was closed. Anthony’s lips were on his neck, the warning of teeth pressed to each kiss as he fought the urge to mark him right there. He held both of Maurice’s wrists beside his head, biting into his neck enough to leave indents. “Other Alphas, huh?” He questioned, puffed up over this, his breath hot on the younger’s neck. “I-- Ohhhh, it’s… It was just… For the game.” He managed, his words broken by moans and gasps as he was thoroughly scented and chewed on. “I only think… Think about y-you these days.” “You had better.” Anthony snarled into his skin, nipping his earlobe and jerking his knee between the other’s thighs to give him something to rut against. As expected, Maurice ground himself down into the other’s leg, eyes rolling back with a loud moan. “Only you, I promise~” Maurice whimpered, not caring that he was rubbing the elder’s cock against his pants leg. “Strip, I want you to ride me. Now.” Demanding as he was right now, the thought was too good to pass up. He sat down, his pants already around his ankles, and watched as Frenchie struggled to get out of his own pants. The track pants shouldn’t have been such a challenge, but it took him too long to get his boots off, as well. Crawling into his lap facing him, he sunk down on the elder’s cock and gasped, eyes rolling as he filled him thoroughly in one go. Without waiting for a second, Anthony took hold of his hips and slammed his own upwards, only leaving a gut-punched moan on his lover’s lips. Sucking at his neck and chest, he tugged his shirt up and off as he rutted his hips up, barely giving Maurice a chance to move. Biting into his neck, Anthony tasted his skin with a lick as he pulled the other down on him, and Maurice cried out, going stiff from the pressure on his muscle. There would be no hiding that mark, at least. “If you do not stop me,” Anthony moaned into the bite, licking at it and nuzzling the sensitive skin around it with his nose, “I am going to mate you. Right now.” “O-ooh, fuck, right here?” Maurice didn’t seem so bothered by the thought anymore, hitching his hips in a tight circle as he rolled down. “Yes… Do it.” It wasn’t like he had a knot blocker on him, anyway. Grinding up into him again, Anthony purred loudly in his chest, sucking on the bite mark he’d left behind and happily rubbing the other’s stomach. He’d wanted to pup him up for a while, and this was as good as any chance he’d get. About ready to push him into the wall and fuck him hard, they both went still when they heard the heavy door to the church open. Anthony’s eyes went wide and he quickly fumbled for his pants around the younger man, pulling the scent blockers out and activating them with a swipe of his thumb. “Shh.” He muttered, holding a hand over the other’s mouth and trying to still his hips. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was three days ago.” A woman’s voice broke through the other side, and Father Burke sighed. Frenchie could tell this one came in a lot. “I took some of Daniel’s school supply money to buy more crack.” She told them, not knowing there was a third party, “And I didn’t do anything to put it back. He needs a new backpack, and I smoked all of it in two days. I didn’t take too much, just $50, but he’s upset… And I think I sinned.” “Well, my child,” Father Burke had an amazing ability to not be bothered by the clamping pussy around his cock, and Frenchie thought that was equally frustrating and admirable. Of course he’d have to try and get him to moan or breathe heavy, at least, “You and I both know that taking from your children is sinful, as is using the money to feed a habit the devil provided you with.” The last word hitched a little as Frenchie wiggled in his lap, and Anthony gave him a dirty look and shook his head. ‘Not now’ he mouthed, and the French-Canadian just grinned at him, clamping tight around his cock and making Anthony’s eyelids flutter. “I… I know. I know I sinned. It doesn’t help that Mikayla is starting to smoke at school. Just cigarettes, but I can’t help but think that it’s my fault.” The woman on the other side sobbed into her hands, and Frenchie rounded his hips again. Covering his grunt with a cough, Anthony sighed. “Would you like me to arrange for you to go to a clinic to get help? There is one uptown that is very nice, we work with them often for people in your situation.” “I-- Yes, Father. That would be good, I think. I don’t want to keep doing this to my children.” She told him, “It’s just so hard, being a single mother.” “I understand your-- Your situation.” He had to keep his growl out of his voice somehow, so he rested his face on Frenchie’s shoulder. That opened up his neck to nibbles and kisses, and he had to close his eyes tight and gulp. “I think St. Joseph would be a good place to start, and I could arrange for Margaret to take care of your children while you g-- Get better.” Maurice could feel Anthony flagging inside of him, so he sucked hard on his shoulder, right where he intended to bite him when they mated. His hips rolled and he felt that throb go through him, and he couldn’t help the excitement flooding his system. This was the absolute wrong time for it, and he knew that, but Frenchie was being adamant to finish this. “I’ll do it. For them. Thank you, Father. This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” “Your penitence will be to apologize to-- To your children,” He grunted slightly, lightly tapping Maurice’s hip as a reprimand, “And then you will check into St. Joseph, and I will help you in the morning. I want you here at ten sharp.” Anthony felt a pang of anxiety in his chest, knowing what must happen next. “Join me in prayer.” Maurice barely contained his moan behind his hand, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart.” Was this truly for Denise, or was it for his own transgressions right now? Even Anthony didn’t know for sure.  “In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things.” Maurice rounded his hips and lifted slightly, drooling slick down Anthony’s cock and balls, and Anthony had to take a breath, as shaky as it was. “I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin.” Maurice somehow managed to swallow down another moan, rising and falling slightly in the other’s lap. “Ou-our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and d-di-died for us. In His name, my God, have mercy.” Her voice joining Anthony’s didn’t seem to bother Maurice at all, “Amen. Is that all, my child?” “Yeah, I… I think so. Thank you, Father.” With that, Denise exited the booth and her leave through the large doors left Maurice alone with his lover once more. His hips rolled and Anthony’s hands jumped to them, holding him still. “You,” Anthony began, voice stern, “Are in huge trouble.” “Oh? Why?” Maurice’s hips tried to make another round and he nearly got away with it before Anthony’s firm grip on him kept him in place. “You know what you did. You can’t go doing--” “Then punish me, Father.” Maurice purred, nuzzling his neck again before he was pushed back. Anthony’s hands jumped back to Maurice’s hips to stop him from moving once more. “I will. You love being punished so badly, I don’t think you get a punishment.” “Oh, come on.” Maurice pouted, crossing his arms, “You said you’d mate me.” “And now, I don’t think that I will. Not tonight.” But, that didn’t mean that Anthony was going to stop. He roughly thrust up, before rocketing off the bench and pinning him back against the door. One hand went to the other’s rump, squeezing before giving him a slap that made Maurice’s ass jiggle. “You’re going to have to take your punishment, however, and then offer repentance.” “I thought y-you said I--” “Your punishment is really that you have to wait to be mated, L’Amour. You shouldn’t have done that when she was here to confess.” Though his voice sounded softer, now, his thrusts didn’t let up when he wasn’t busy talking. Each of them pushed Maurice closer, and Anthony finally turned to kiss his lips gently. “Now, we pray. Do you remember the prayer that she spoke…?” “Mnn… Not-- N-not really, F-Father.” Maurice whimpered, getting close enough to his orgasm that it would have left him, anyway. “Then repeat after me, Precioso.” He spoke softly, kissing the other gently on the lips, “Oh Most humane and adorable Jesus, Your endless grace and mercy flows forth. ” Taking a break from his words to give a few more thrusts, Anthony listened to Maurice’s broken moans of the words he’d left him with. “Before granting the gift of absolution to earnest repenters of sinful ways, You demanded a sacrificial compensation. For a wrongful act cannot be rectified until punishment has been accepted.” Another thrust broke the word ‘punishment’ in half as Maurice spoke. “Yes, for the salvation of my soul, Jesus, You accepted the price of the Cross.” Maurice was insanely close now, and Father Burke reached down to grip his Omega’s cock gently but firmly. He wasn’t going to come until they were done. His thrusts didn’t get any easier, however, “Gr-grrrr-grant me the gr-grace to remain free of debts, my he-heart remaining flawless before You, m-ma-making Your absolution truly worthwhile.” With a soft smile, he finally rolled his hips forward to bury his knot inside Maurice, causing him to shriek while he murmured ‘Amen’ into the Omega’s neck. It was harder than he thought not to bite down, but Anthony knew that if he didn’t stick to the punishment, Maurice would never listen to him. Instead, he kissed at his Adam’s apple, focusing on licking him in time to his haggard breaths. Maurice appreciated the thought, rocking his hips slightly to secure the hold on him, and his eyes rolled back as Anthony let go of his cock. “Ooh… Father,” he gasped, “It feels… So good.” To finally come went unsaid, because Maurice didn’t need to get in more trouble for nearly interrupting Denise’s confession. It already cost him the mating, and that was bad enough to get his mind on a hopefully better track of thought. “You feel good, too, Maurice.” Anthony purred into his neck, nipping his earlobe gently, “And when the time is right, I will mate you, if you still want me to.” Dragging his lips back to Maurice’s, he kissed him gently, nuzzling their noses together. “I--” Maurice went a little still, but he wasn’t quite stiff, watching the elder with a pensive frown before he relaxed again, “I think I am… Heavily considering it.” That was the best he could come up with, laughing softly at himself before shaking his head. “I’ve never dated someone this long before.” He added, resting their foreheads together as Anthony moved them back to the bench. “If I recall, you’ve never dated anyone else.” He offered softly, kissing those plump lips gently once more, “Though I am flattered that you chose me to be the first.” Had any of the others tried to dig their claws in, Maurice would have already been spoken for. Perhaps it was luck, but Anthony liked to think that God was rewarding him for his hard work; Even though there were things he wasn’t so proud of, that haunted the back of his mind quite often. Maurice helped to keep those thoughts at bay, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he was eventually turned away. “I’m happy that you are the first.” Maurice told him honestly, kissing back gently, “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted romance before. It is delicious.” “You are incorrigible.” Anthony laughed, gently lapping at his lips and teeth, “Also delicious, but mostly incorrigible.” “I… Have no idea what that means,” Maurice replied, eyes down, and Anthony tipped his head up again to kiss him once more. As much as Maurice beat himself up for not understanding things often, Anthony never minded explaining things to him. “You will continue to sin and I must be here to try and steer you straight. With… More of this, I suppose. Romance and your favorite punishments.” “I like the sound of that.” Maurice murmured against his mouth, happy to have a good man in his life for once. “I could get used to this.” “I sincerely hope that you do.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Can I write anything for these two that is less than six pages? Evidently not so far. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoyed!

[author-morgan]

Phobia ☤ Alexios

ten - payments owed

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

THE ADRESTIA DWARFS the merchant vessels docked beside her in Piraeus' harbor. Irene finds her captain at the helm, retouching the painted map of the Aegean with blue and green pigment. "Irene!" The captain greets, rising as quickly as his aging knees will allow.

Irene looks around at the ship. Compared to others she's sailed on, it seems more likely the Adrestia will sink then stay afloat in its current state. "What was she like when you first took command?" The princess asks, running her fingertips over a splintering part of the railing.

The captain turns to look up at the Adrestia's mast. He remembers the first time he saw the ship well. She was nearly as beautiful as the Paralus. Her hull was plated in iron and painted in Korinthian plum and gold. A dark grey sail emblazoned with Lady Justice. Years have since passed and now bare wood shines through what little paint remains. The sea has claimed most of the iron plating, and Lady Justice has since been replaced by a fading red eagle on stained white.

"A mighty vessel!" Barnabas remarks, eyes closed in evocation. "Sure to weather any storm." Some of the Cyclops' men claimed not even Poseidon himself could sink the Adrestia. Barnabas was a godly man, but even he had to wonder if there was truth in the claim.

If Alexios is to sail the Aegean in search of his mother, he will need the Adrestia as she once was -mighty. "I will sponsor any repairs or upgrades you see fit," Irene announces.

Barnabas isn't sure if the gods have taken his ability to hear -but Irene's words and expression are genuine. "You-" he stumbles over the words "-you are too generous, Irene!"

She takes both of his hands. "Consider it repayment for saving my life all those years ago." Irene knows if it had not been for his kindness, she would have never lived to see Athens. The Order would have found her and her fate would have been the same as Hydarnes. "And please," she notes with a reserved smile, "you and the crew are welcome to stay at the villa."

"NO!" IRENE CRIES through laughter, unable to believe the Eagle Bearer had been disarmed and cornered by a measly smuggler. Phoibe assures her it's a true story though -and one of her favorites about the trouble Alexios used to get her out of on Kephallonia.

"He had a blade at his throat and his stomach, but the smuggler never saw the bear!" Phoibe pretends to lunge toward Irene and it sends the princess backward in another fit of laughter. She would have liked to see these stories Phoibe spoke of first hand.

"If not for a certain girl we would have never been in that situation," Alexios says with a dry chuckle, appearing from the shadows. It seems Phoibe may have left out the part where she'd been caught stealing from the wrong person -and embellished the role of the bear.

"Alexios!" The girl exclaims, jumping to her feet -her wide grin does not diminish.

Irene notices he is holding his left arm at an odd angle, out of the light. Judging by the blood on his clenched right fist, he is trying to conceal a fresh wound. A frown crosses over her countenance, but it is hidden by the time Phoibe turns her attention back to her. "Why don't we finish trading stories another time?" Irene suggests.

The girl's smile fades, displeased at the thought of leaving so soon but Alexios nods toward the villa's entrance. "Run along, Phoibe," he says. She huffs in defiance but goes without verbal protest. Alexios has never seen her listen to him so easily or quickly.  

Irene rises and circles the misthios proving her initial observation correct. On his upper arm is a jagged cut. "Sit," she says, pointing at the edge of the fountain. Alexios does as he's told and lets his arm fall naturally. Blood begins running down his arm again. "What happened?" She asks, dipping a strip of linen into the water, sitting at his side.

"Caught off-guard by a bounty hunter," he answers, watching as she washes out the wound. The princess raises her brow, clearly questioning why he had run into another mercenary. "Sparta doesn't take kindly to people burning their war supplies." Irene rolls her eyes as she wipes away the blood -both dried and fresh- trailing down his arm. "It was an accident," he supplements but somehow she doubts it was truly an accident. The Eagle Bearer seems to be a glutton for trouble and punishment.

Her fingers prod the cut. "It's not too deep," she tells him. It wouldn't need to be stitched or burned, but it does need to be cleaned and bound. She wraps the cut tightly and begins picking winterbloom and rose petals from flower boxes to grind with dried yarrow. Alexios watches her work with the faintest of smiles –there is something about being in her presence that calms him and makes it feel as if the weight on his shoulders is not so heavy.

Removing the piece of linen, Irene presses the red-tinged, fragrant paste into the bloody wound. The insistent stinging fades almost immediately and the bleeding stops. "Where'd you learn to do that?" He asks –such skill would have come in handy more than a few times in his travels.

She doesn't break focus as she begins rewrapping the strip of linen around his left bicep. "Zephyr always said medicine was in my blood," she shrugs, tying off the dressing with a small knot, "but Theophilus taught me." Theophilus had been the only physician in Athens willing to take her on as an apprentice. As a student, she worked hard and learned quickly but her pursuits in medicine were soon halted by disapproval from elder members of the elite class. Irene wipes her hands on the dark chlamys covering a peplos of fine silk.

Alexios moves his arm, pleased to feel there is no lingering pain. "A fighter and a healer," he remarks, glancing from the neatly tied bandage to her, "that's a rare combination." Irene's smile is tenuous, her cheeks florid from his plaudit.

INSTEAD OF PAYMENT, the Eagle Bearer asks for information. Alkibiades is stunned by the proposition, though any surprise is quickly masked behind a taunting simper. He feigns hurt, clutching at his half-bare chest. "Are you sure you don't want to know my fancies, misthios?" Alexios crosses his arms, giving the lewd man a harsh glare. "Fine. Fine," he shrugs off the rejection.

Alkibiades steps back in deep thought. Perikles has proposed several matches for Irene in the past, as did Zephyr before the gods took him. Even Kleon has spent years hoping to gain Irene's hand. This mercenary is the first man outside of the Periklean Circle Irene seems to be able to tolerate. He decides to tell Alexios a few of the princess' favorite things in hopes it will make her happy.

"Seashells and pearls, sweet wines and pomegranates, poppies and roses," Alkibiades rattles off a list in quick succession. He could name more things the princess enjoys, but those were sure to win her favor -more so than luxurious gifts and insincere poems.

Alexios commits the list to memory and thanks Perikles' ward. "Most mercenaries don't concern themselves with anything other than a night," Alkibiades remarks offhandedly and stops the misthios in his tracks. "Why her, Alexios?" The Eagle Bearer finds he does not have an answer to give, only the involuntary feeling in his gut and heart.

[shanlulu-writing]

Levi X reader  - I am all yours - Part 1

Please be aware there is swearing from the outset and suggestive themes. I hope you like, this is only the second fanfic I have put up on here, so please bare with me. Please let me know what you think, Im happy for critique and anything that will help the story and my writing. If you like give me a fav or a comment. I do love hearing back from you! Part 1 It was cold, for some reason, it was always cold here, even when the sun was shining. Maybe it was just you, maybe you felt the cold more than anyone else, still, it would feel good to feel warm once in a while. You sigh, feeling like you had been here forever, but that wasn't reality, in fact, you had only been here a matter of months. You had only been with the survey corps with the new influx of trainees, not like you really wanted to be here. Mostly everyone paid no attention to you, let alone be nice, but that was how you liked it. You shiver and break away from your thoughts. It was your turn to muck out and groom the horses, a job that you particularly hated. As much as it was nice to ride them, cleaning them was another matter. You continue to groom one of the horses, you believed it to be Captain Ackerman's. Well, that was someone, up his own ass, good in a fight but hell was he a stuck up prick. He had already shown you how much he disliked you. From day one he was full of venom towards you. You knew that he was like with that with everyone, but it seemed like it was particularly vicious in your direction. A couple of the others had mentioned it, in fact, that was how the few people who did talk to you, introduced themselves. Your only collective conclusion was that he didn't like your face. Well, you didn't like his either, even if it was very defined and had the illusion that his skin was the perfection of porcelain. Mr bloody perfect. “You, (last name).” You look up. “Please tell me why a brat like you is touching my horse?” You move away from the horse catching the Captain's icy glare. From up close he was actually pretty short for a guy. You snigger internally. “Answer me!” He moves a few steps closer, arms folded and looks at you as if you are the muck you have been shovelling. “I was asked to clean the horses. That's what I am doing” You answer frostily. “...Sir” You frown, not knowing what he meant. “You address me as Sir, idiot.” You notice that even though his words are infuriated, his face remains deadpan, almost unaffected by the conversation. “Sir.”  You didn't want to respond, but then you didn't want the aggro either. You should have learnt from the last time you spoke back to him and had to sleep in the shed for two nights with only one blanket. You knew full well that he was always prepared to punish your back chat, but he riled you up so much, you couldn't help but lash back out at him. You sigh again. “So do you want me to groom your horse or not..... Sir?” You questioned him, voice dripping with sarcasm . As soon as the words left your mouth, he was next to you and grabbed your chin roughly. “Answer me like that again brat, and you will fucking live to regret it.” You stagger backwards escaping from his grasp, his voice was like acid, and you truly believed that he would do as he said. You relented your attitude, and bow your head with a nod. “Tsk.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the stables. You breathe a sigh of relief and get back to work. You hear another set of footsteps approach you, you groan as you think that it is the Captain coming back to have another rant at you. “I'm NOT interested!” You thought to pre-empt him. “Huh?” That voice wasn't the Captains. You move out from behind the horse to see another cadet. “Hey (first name), what was up with Levi? What did you do now? He looked super pissed when he walked out of here.” It was Eren, he seemed nice, apparently, he could shift into a titan. Well, he looked normal enough, you couldn't tell he was hiding a monster inside of him. He had been one of the only ones that made the effort to talk to you, and for that, you were somewhat grateful. “Oh hi, Eren. He was just bitching something or other about me touching his horse. No biggy.” Eren looked shocked. You smile at him warmly. “What? He as a major stick up his ass, he needs bringing down a peg or two.” “You have a death wish” He laughs, you like it, his face is pretty cute when he smiles. “It was nice knowing you.” You cock your head to look at him. “He can't be that bad, I'm sure his bark is worse than his bite.” Eren raises his eyebrows at you but says nothing. It's like he knows something but won't tell you. “Anyway, we have training in a minute, Hanji asked me to come and get you.” You had forgotten about that after your altercation with Captain Ackerman. You set down your brushes and follow him out. “What is his problem?” You ask as you fasten your pace to catch up with him. Eren shrugs and doesn't offer you an answer. “Fine, whatever.” You weren't going to waste any more breath on him today. Funnily enough, you were quite happy that the training grounds meant you wouldn't have to see him again today. You walked out onto the training field and saw everyone else already set up ready to go. “Jaeger! (Last name)! You are Late!” Hanji yells from the other side of the field. You scurry to where your teammates were standing, and stood in line. She watched you as you fell in place and continued. “Today, we are going to be doing some mixed combat training. Also, I thought that it might be instrumental in your learning to get a few tips from the seasoned members of the Corps” You follow your friend's eyes to the group standing not far from you. Whispers start all around you, about them being the members of the special ops team, when from the corner of your eye you see Captain Ackerman. You roll your eyes and groan, why couldn't luck just be on your side for once?! You look at the other members who seem quite annoyed at being there, obviously, Hanji had wrangled them into doing it when you see that Captain Ackerman glaring straight at you. You double take. Why is he still staring at you? That's quite a glare he's got going on there. For fuck sake... What could you have done now? You look away to try and pay attention to Hanji giving instructions as to what was to happen next, but you could still feel the frosty gaze, sending shivers up your neck. You rub it instinctively and feel very uncomfortable. “What's the matter?” Eren leant in sideways whispering. “He keeps looking at me!” You mutter under your breath. “What song did you want to be played at your funeral, again? I don't know what you said to him, but you are in serious crap.” You hear him laugh quietly. “What are you two talking about?” Jean and Sasha bundle up behind you. You groan, as you really didn't want the whole squad knowing. Not that it was really something to be embarrassed about, but he was still looking at you and it was extremely unnerving. Eren explains to them and on queue, they both look over at him. “Don't look at him” You hiss. “Wow, did you give him attitude again?” Sasha asks mouth full of potato, you wonder how she has managed to get it. You can only guess that she has bribed one of the cooks again, it was the only explanation. “You're a glutton for punishment and an idiot. You know he doesn't like you, so why bait him all the time? Last time you pissed him off he had you scrubbing the floors in your nightclothes.” Jean adds. “Shut up. I didn't do anything that time either, all I did was have a play fight with Eren! Not my fault that his weakness is being tickled!” You retort in hushed tones and punch Jean in the arm. “(Last name) Are you listening?” Hanji shouts scolding you. You wince as you seem to be drawing more attention to yourself every minute. “Yes Ma'am” You listen to the last of her instructions and wait to get paired off. To your relief, you get paired up with Jean. From your interactions with him, you knew he was hot-headed and had a sharp tongue, not so unlike yourself. At least this meant you could blow off some steam, and forget about the pigmy abominable snow man's stare. “I'll go easy on you newbie,” Jean grunted at you. He didn't seem impressed to be paired up with a new recruit or the fact that you were by appearances, a weak girl. You scowl at him and take a deep breath. “This will be easy then. Don't flatter yourself, I'm not a precious sodding flower.” You spat in disgust. You were going to show him, you were a fighter, you always had been, and remarks like that were only going to make you more determined. He came at you, his main attacks were balanced in brute strength rather than speed. How apt. You move deftly around and away from his attacks, landing a fist on his back, in between his shoulder blades. Jean stops, and drops to one knee, he looked like he was getting his breath back. Standing back up to his full height, he readied himself again. The next attack landed on your shoulder, you yelp in pain and fall to the floor. You glare up at him as he offers a hand to you, you take it begrudgingly to stand up yourself. You shake the pain off and begin again. You fight for a good ten more minutes, and you manage to best him a fair few times when you are interrupted. “Kirstein. Your strength will win eventually, but that is if she doesn't wear you out before you can even hit a punch.” You both stop, and look to see that unimpressed face looking back at you. Did he have to interrupt? “Yes, Captain.” “Here. Let me show you a few tactics.”  Jean nods, he looks annoyed at the halt in fighting yet you notice a flicker of a smirk directed at you. You narrow your eyes at him in response, he can bugger off as well. Shit! You were going to have to fight the Captain. Jean moves out of the way, and Captain Ackerman stands in his place. You wonder whether his face was actually a mask, as you were sure that it was just made of stone. You feel nervous, you had heard about how good he was in battle, and you could only imagine that it translated well into hand to hand combat. You wished that the ground would swallow you up whole, yet in that moment you decide that you were not going to let him affect you. He was just some idiot who thought insulting people was a good idea, and he could get away with it because of his rank. People like that made you feel sick. You felt like you were close to hating him, he was just like all the others, who used their power to get what they wanted. “Brat, I hope you pay attention to what I am to teach you.” “I am all yours, Sir!” You glower at him. You hated his stupid perfect face, his stupid comments, and his stupid fucking attitude. You launch your attack, which he counters every single time, it just seems so easy for him, which he always follows with a smack on the back of your head. Pompous twat! He gives you the run around for what appears to be forever. You manage to hit him but none of them really manage to stop his attacks. You move again, feign a hit to the chest and spin around to kick him in the side. You manage to catch him off balance and quickly you go for the backs of his knees, causing him to fall to the ground. Seconds later with your knees pinning his kneeling legs, you hold your training knife to his throat. Breathing heavily, you feel triumphant. You managed to slay the beast, Hah! “Thank you for the lesson, Sir! I hope you learnt something.” You hear a quiet laugh escape from the man in front of you. Within a flash, he grabs your arm and pushes down on the inside of your elbow with three fingers and with the other hand, the bones in your thumb joint (pressure points). You scream, as it feels like he has broken your arm, you yank your arm back away from him and in that split second of pain, you are pushed to the ground. Legs straddled either side of your hips and his forearm pressing down on your neck, he leans in closer to you. You struggle to take in more air as the pressure of his body weight crushes down on your throat. You feel his breath on your neck, and amongst trying to breathe, you try desperately to get away from him, the fear becoming real that he may strangle you. “This is your first lesson, never let your guard down.” He utters under his breath. “Secondly, I will not have female cadets flaunting themselves with other male recruits. I've told you before and if I see it again I will have you reprimanded.” You could feel your consciousness slipping from you and make one last move for your freedom. With all your might you headbutt your captor, he rolls off you in pain and managing to get away from him, stagger back up, barely able to stand. “FUCK YOU!” Your voice was hoarse and strained. You realise that everyone else had stopped fighting and some of them had obviously been watching the fight for a while. You didn't need this shit. Taking one last look at the Captain on the floor, who was now sitting, with his hand on his head, you speed off. You manage to make it to the stables, and your legs fall out from underneath you. You clutch your throat, it feels like it is on fire, and just swallowing hurts. He actually planned to kill you, he actually meant to do it. Maybe Eren was right, maybe you should plan your funeral.  You realise that you are crying, you rub the tears out of your eyes, you weren't going to cry over this, not him. “(First name)!” You hear a call not far from you. You try to turn your neck, but hiss as the pain is so bad you think he must have broken something. Eren crouches down to look at you, his focus trailing from your teary (e/c) eyes to your throat and his eyes widen. “What the fuck did he do to you?” He grabs you and carries you gently with your head against his chest. “We are going straight to the infirmary. What the hell does he think that he is playing at?” It doesn't take you long to get there, usually, you wouldn't have gone, but you feel too weak to protest. The medics take a look at you, and they are surprised to hear what happened. You didn't want to say anything or make a fuss, but Eren was insistent on knowing everything. You see Eren getting angrier as they take a look at your neck. It's red raw and bruising is already starting to form, your voice was still croaky even after an excruciating drink of water. “You are saying Captain Ackerman did this?” The medic asks in a worried tone. You nod gingerly and bow your head. You had never felt so pathetic, you were here to fight the titans, but instead you were almost killed by someone in your own regiment. The medic grumbles and moves to place some ointment on your skin, you jerk back instinctively and shake your head furiously. “Its okay (first name). Here, let me do it. If it hurts you can punch my leg.” You think that its probably for the best, at least you wouldn't be accused of punching a medic, another thing Mr Captain Levi Asshole could punish you for.  He sits down on the bed next to you and holds one of your hands as he takes an ointment slicked finger to your skin. “Fuck... That hurts” You grunt in pain. “Squeeze my hand then.” He does it again, this time you clench his hand and realise how rough his skin is, and on closer inspection, there are minor scars all over his hands. His hands make you feel safe, his hands were much larger than yours with strong fingers, but they were extremely warm. You smile as you bask your hand in his warm one. He notices your expression change and stops. “Why are you smiling?” “Your hands are really warm.” You croak. He returns your smile as the medic comes in with a tray with a singular cup and saucer. “I've been told tea is good for a sore throat, and it might help your voice a little.” You nod and gesture a thank you, the medic makes their exit leaving you alone. Eren takes the cup off of the tray and passes it to you. Sadly this meant that his warm hands were no longer in your possession, however, it was replaced by steaming tea which was deliciously hot for your throat and your freezing cold hands. You take a sip and wince in pain, but endeavour to keep drinking and soon the pain subsides to just a tingle at the back of your throat. “Thank you, Eren.” You startle him as it had been quiet up until then. “I haven't done anything.” He shrugs. “You always seem to be there when I need you, and I just want to let you know I appreciate it.” He takes you aback when you see a flash of red on his cheeks. He looks away from you quickly. “Oh it's nothing really, that's what friends do!” He turns back to you, with a slightly darker look. “But if he touches you like that again, he's got another thing coming.” “Eren, please. Don't make a fuss, I can handle it, I'm not broken down that easy.” You try to say as convincingly as possible, but it couldn't be any further from the truth. After today he scared the shit out of you. ~ You had fitful sleep that night and woke up feeling exhausted. Eren had left not long after you finished your tea, and it was the first night in a very long while that you had slept in a room on your own. The silence was unsettling, and even when waking the silence seemed to hang over you like a shadow. You stretch your legs and pull yourself out of bed. You hold the bed for support, your legs were still weak. Strange considering that it was your throat that had been wounded, not your legs. You take a few paces, even at a shuffle it was good to get up and walk about. You hear noises from down the hall, cadets were laughing and shouting, they sounded like they were having so much fun, and you feel like you wished to be with them. There's a first time for everything. Usually, you distanced yourself from people, but Eren had shown you that you could make friends and maybe you might be able to make some real friends here. Your thoughts wander to the events of yesterday. What the hell was all that about? I've told you before and if I see you doing it again you will be reprimanded. Reprimanded for what? Talking to people? For having a laugh with Eren? Training with Jean? Grooming his horse? Even so, even if what you were doing was wrong, did it really warrant almost being strangled to death? “Ah, I see you're up” You look up to see Hanji walking in, sprightly as ever. She was carrying a clean set of clothes, which she set on your bed. “How are you feeling?” “Er... Okay, I guess. Alive if only just” You didn't mean to come off as brash, but you were still wound up. “We have orders from Erwin that you are to have a few days rest. The medics have advised so, due to the wound. Ah, he also wanted you to report to Captain Ackerman as soon as you can.” You gasp. They were sending you straight back into the lion's den. She smiles, seeming to completely miss your horror. “Nothing to worry about,  I am sure he just wants to apologise.” Apologise. Fucking Apologise? That's the least he could do! He will probably finish the job. This was bullshit, but orders were orders. You nod, knowing there was no way to get out of it.  She waves goodbye and runs off to find her team, leaving you alone again. You gave into getting changed, it was actually more difficult than you initially anticipate due to your neck still being extremely stiff and sore. Eventually, you manage and make the bed, as the medics weren't about you went over to their desk and grabbed a pen and paper to scrawl a thank you for their help. Slowly you make your way to your dorm to grab your scarf to hide the marks on your neck. You hope it will be quiet and the rest of the girls would already be out. As you open the door you hear your name called from all different directions, you look to see most of them had been waiting for you. You groan internally, wishing you had waited before coming back. They all rushed over, asking you loads of questions. Did it hurt? What did he do? What did you do to piss him off? How heavy was he? How did he smell? Did you pass out? Did he try and kill you on purpose? “Did he kiss you? Are you going out?” You heard from someone. How the hell did they get from trying to kill you to dating? Most of the girls needed their heads checked out. You may have been injured but at least you still had your head screwed on. You were about to reply when someone beat you to it. “Do you think that pestering her is going to get you a response?” The voice was cold. There was only one person that it could be. You muse whether you could make a break for it out the open window, yet with everyone crowded around you, you realise that it would be impossible. “I expect to see you in my office in two minutes” He commanded. When his back was turned you glare at him instinctively, hoping that his head might explode. You grab your (fav/c) scarf and wrap it around your neck. You make your move to go when you turn and speak to Mikasa. “Can you tell Eren: Erik Satie, Gymnopédie No.3” She looks at you confused. “I want that played at my funeral.” You hear a couple of them giggle as you leave the room. You make your way to his office, every footstep becoming harder and harder as you prepare for your doom. Your stomach was in knots and your arms were shaking as you reach the door. Timidly you knock on the door, hoping that he had been called away on an errand. “Enter.” You hear from the other side of the door. So much for that then. You curse under your breath and walk into the room. He was sitting at his desk writing, he didn't bother to look up at you. He paused and motioned to the chair the opposite side of the desk to him. You moved cautiously and sat down, remaining quiet. You twiddle your thumbs for a while, waiting for a titan to appear from nowhere and step on you or something to get you away from the situation. “Now, (last name). I understand that the medical team have given you leave for two days while you recover. I suggest in that time that you help Commander Erwin and myself with any menial tasks that we require of you. It will save you from being completely useless.” “What?” You could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You're the reason I am like this in the first place!” You weren't originally going to rise to his bait, but useless you were not. “If you didn't have some kind of vendetta against me none of this would ever have happened! Maybe if you got off your high horse once in a while, then maybe I wouldn't talk to you like this!” His hand shot across the desk and grabbed your chin, he ran a thumb across your bottom lip. “Such a smart mouth” He sounded strange. His voice was drenched with mockery, yet deep and sultry, you try not to think of such things, you confirm to yourself, staring back at his emotionless face. “I have a mind to shut it up.” You freeze completely stunned. He releases your chin and you touch where he had grabbed you. You can feel the skin ache where his fingers had been. This guy was dangerous, you weren't going to stay here or be treated like this. You get up to get away. “I don't think so. You aren't going to run away, are you? Like a frightened little girl.” He raises his eyes to you, and you are sure you can see the trace of a smirk on his face, but it's gone again in an instant. You feel very trapped and slowly edge backwards. You didn't want to prove him right, but you didn't want to be in the same room with him anymore. “Do you treat everyone like this?” You feel your anger rising. He had no right to treat people like this. How many before you had gone through this? You watch him cross the room, seeming oblivious at your delicate attempt to escape, to file some papers in a desk on the opposite side of the room. “Treat like what? I am only responding in kind to you. Ever since you arrived you have been taking cheap shots at me, back chatting and having inappropriate interactions with Eren Jaeger.” You stop, what had Eren got to do with this? Granted he found you and Eren on the floor desperately trying to tickle each other, but it it was only a bit of fun between friends. “We were having a laugh. For your information, Eren is the first friend I have had since the attack on wall Maria. I think I'm entitled to at least be his friend! Also, while we are at it, it has absolutely nothing to do with you.” He paced towards you, you back away from him until you hit the desk. Fuck, he had cornered you. “Nothing to do with me?” He was toe to toe with you looking directly in your eyes. They were steely blue, piercingly gorgeous, and could probably see into your soul if you had the time to pause and think. Usually, eyes had different flecks of colour, but his were monotone, muted and  devoid, much like the person they belong to. He raises his hand, you close your eyes, waiting for him to strike you. It doesn't come, instead, your scarf is removed, and you feel a gentle touch your tender skin “I think it has everything to do with me.”

[moonstruckbucky]

Yearn [one shot]

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst City Central. Language. Mild mentions of smut, but nothing too detailed.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

NOTES: I’m planning on this being a two-part mini series. I’ve had this idea cooking in my head for a while but had zero motivation to actually write it so, here it is. Like/comment/reblog. Enjoy! x

It began with a look. A simple exchange of glances, questioning and then understanding, agreeing, before you found yourselves in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. It was an outlet, really, a way for both of you to rid yourselves of the stress of a hard mission or an easier way to fall asleep.

Until it became more than that. At least, to you.

You knew Steve was still vulnerable from Sharon’s sudden exit from his life, knew he was far from ready for anything even remotely serious. So you tamped down the Natasha-dubbed “heart eyes” when he was around, brushed your feelings aside and told yourself you were fine with your current situation.

But it was getting harder and harder to convince yourself, it was harder to pretend his very kiss didn’t set every one of your nerve endings alight, that he, and only he, knew how to play your body like a fiddle. It was harder to tell yourself that your heart didn’t absolutely yearn for him every single day you went without touching him, without kissing him.

This last mission had been rough, and its toll was obvious on those involved. It was successful, but only just. The ride back to the Tower was quiet and tense in the quinjet, the others mulling over the fact that they had nearly lost one of their own. Sam’s wingsuit had been destroyed in the process, grounding him until Tony could either fix it or build a new one. You glanced up from where you sat between Bucky and Nat, eyes locking on to Steve’s rigid form. His hands were on his belt and his head was bowed. Even with the position you could see the muscles of his jaw working as he ground his teeth. It had been too close.

It was why you knew it was him, later that night, knocking on your door at nearly 1 AM. It was why you welcomed him, like you always did, with open arms and an invitation to lose himself in your body. And really, when had you ever been able to say no to him?

He took you roughly, and you let him, understanding his need for control in every aspect of his life, especially the bedroom. His fingers dug bruises into the skin of your hips and your wrists as he held them behind your back, his free hand wrapped loosely around the column of your neck. His lips sucked hickies into your throat and the insides of your thighs, marking you, and the thought of belonging to only him made your heart ache with a want and a need you knew would never come to fruition.

He could never be yours, even with the wild, possessive way he claimed your body. It was an outlet, a stress reliever, and only that.

When it was over, Steve didn’t stay. He threw his clothes back on, gave you a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and left. More than just your bed felt empty; you felt it in your heart, the roots of your longing running so deeply you were sure it had become a permanent part of you now. So that night, you let yourself cry for the love you knew would never be returned.

Weeks went by, and the wedge in your heart only seemed to grow larger and more painful the longer you let Steve into your bed. Part of you was angry that he was so seemingly unaffected by your trysts, that you were the only one suffering. Your mood during the day soured, only brightening when you could lose yourself in Steve’s kisses at night, and wasn’t that just the most fucked up thing in the world?

Natasha was fed up with it, and she wasn’t afraid to let you know it.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself,” she stated one afternoon. You glanced up at her from your spot on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the television. Her arms were crossed and she was actively glaring at you. Even in sweats she was intimidating as hell.

But you were as stubborn as she was scary. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, L/N,” she snapped, picking up the remote to shut the TV off. She ignored your noise of indignation. “You either need to tell him how you feel or stop what you’re doing. You’re only hurting yourself here.”

You remained quiet, knowing she was right but refusing to admit it. You kept your eyes on the blank screen, determined to not give her the satisfaction of admitting she was right. She was always right.

“Y/N...” she sighed, kneeling down beside your knee. She set her hand on it, thumb rubbing gently over the fabric of your leggings. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Are you that much of a glutton for punishment? I really am trying to understand, but I can’t pretend anymore. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Nat. I’m a big girl.” Your tone was short and clipped, and you moved your knee out of her grip. She sighed, shaking her head once before rising back to her feet.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Y/N,” she muttered. The words stung as she walked away, her voice dripping in disappointment, and your vision blurred. Sniffling, you got up and hid away in your room, wallowing in your misery.

You knew it had to stop. Nat was right; it wasn’t fair to you to put yourself through this constant heartache, desiring for more than what Steve could give you.

It was a week after your one-sided talk with Nat that you made up your mind. You were going to end it. Your heart would thank you for it in the long run. Self-preservation was an instinct not even Steve Rogers could make you forget.

You knocked on his door just after dinner, stomach kicking with nerves and nausea. You knew your hands were shaking as you buried them in your sweatshirt pocket, wringing them together while you waited for Steve to open the door. When it did, the breath left your lungs. How could he manage to look so good all the damn time?

“H-hi,” you stuttered, smiling nervously. Steve was the picture of relaxed as he leaned against the door frame, looking utterly delectable in a too-small white tee shirt that stretched tightly across his broad chest. “Can we, um, can we talk?”

He smirked. “You sure that’s why you’re here?”

Cue heat pooling in your lower belly. Your thighs clenched together, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Steve as he reached out to wrap a hand around the back of your neck and tug you into his room. The door closed and not a second later were your pressed against it, Steve’s mouth slotted perfectly over yours and setting a fire in your blood.

“S-Steve,” you muttered against his mouth. He growled deep in his throat as he dropped a hand between your legs and rubbed you through your sweatpants. Against your will you sighed into his mouth before you remembered yourself. Your hands planted on the wide plane of his chest and pushed, causing him to stumble back a step.

“What?” he asked, mildly impatient. His lips were red and wet, and it took everything in you to not go back for more.

“I came to talk, not to...” You gestured between you with a flourish, feeling smaller and smaller under his intense stare. He sighed.

“Okay, what about?”

You opened your mouth, but before the words “I want to stop” could crawl out of your throat, a knock sounded on his door. Steve held up a finger and brushed by you, twisting the knob on the door and swinging it open.

You expected Bucky, maybe even Sam or Natasha, but what you didn’t expect was Sharon, looking meek and nervous before her eyes found you and morphed into a look of confusion. No doubt you and Steve looked a little ruffled. One glance at Steve confirmed he was just as shocked as you.

He began to stutter out a greeting, but he never finished it, mind too busy with the current situation. His radiant blue eyes then flickered to you, hesitant and questioning.

“I’ll go,” you muttered, feeling awkward sandwiched between the two of them. You ducked your head and fled the room before Steve could even reply.

Steve found you hours later, knocking hesitantly on your door with a lead weight in his stomach. You answered the door with a yawn, rubbing your eyes sleepily, but he didn’t miss the way your shoulders straightened at the sight of him.

“Steve.”

“How about that talk?”

You let him in reluctantly, a sinking feeling telling you you knew what was coming. So when he said that Sharon wanted to work on their relationship, you tried to act nonchalant, happy for him, even.

“That’s great, Steve.” God, the lie sounded obvious even to you, and it didn’t look like Steve really bought it either.

“Are you sure...?” His voice matched the skeptical expression on his face.

“I knew what this was, Steve, and it’s fine. I told you at the beginning if you ever changed your mind, about this or about Sharon, I’d back off, no hard feelings. That hasn’t changed.” You smiled tightly, proud of yourself for keeping the tremor out of your voice even as your heart was crumbling inside your chest.

Steve’s blue irises penetrated yours, searching. The intensity of his stare almost made you look away, but you held firm, holding your breath. When he dropped his gaze and nodded, you exhaled quietly.

“I should go,” he murmured, sounding as if he didn’t want to.

Or maybe your ears were playing tricks on you.

“Yeah. I’ll, um, see you around then. And Steve? I’m happy for you and Sharon, really.” Lie, lie, lie.

His mouth twitched upwards a little. “Thanks, Y/N.”

And then he was gone, and you were free to let out the pain building in your chest. Your cries were let out into a pillow because the walls weren’t all that thin and you didn’t need a horde of Avengers storming to your room. You felt a small tinge of relief, knowing the work had been done for you, but mostly there was just the ever-present feeling of your chest caving in.

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[chibinightowl]

@foxesrefuge So here comes my prompt: JayTim sparring session!! w lots and lots of body contact and sexual tension between them and a somewhat shy/ embarrassed Tim bc he has a crush on Jason, always trying to play it off, tho... and Jason.. well, he is a very teasing little shit (as he always is) and finds out about Tim’s attraction while sparring lol (idk maybe not, the end is up to u. It can have a happy end, can also end w a cliffhanger haha well it’s really up to u!!) Don’t know if it’s something you’ve already written or if it’s something u don’t like at all but dang you’re one of the BEST writers around and I’m just happy to read ANYTHING you write !! Always spot on and such a real bliss !!!

~*~*~

Thanks for the prompt! I wish this turned out better, but guess who is horrible at writing fight scenes? >__> Still, I think this turned out rather well in the end, so I hope you enjoy it!

~*~*~

After the fourth time Jason pinned Tim to the mats using nothing but his thighs to hold him down, Tim finally keyed in to the fact that he was up to something. That asshole was messing with him. Not that he was complaining at all, because being trapped between those thighs has been a fantasy of his for far too long, but never once has a word about that passed his lips.

Well, there was that one time when Tim was drunk, and he was fairly sure he may have said something to Kon, but no one else was around to hear him wax poetic over Jason’s thighs and his stupidly handsome face and how he wanted to lick every inch of him.

Kon wouldn’t betray him like that. He wouldn’t. It went against the very tenants of the bro-code.

But this? Jason had his long legs wrapped around his torso and his head was cradled in between two gloriously muscled thighs. If Tim was facing the other direction, he’d be face to face with Jason’s crotch. He wanted to whine over how close he was to a dream come true. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to will away the budding interest in his own shorts that would shortly betray him if he wasn’t careful.

“You still alive down there?” Jason asked, a teasing lilt to his deep voice. “Or are you relearning how to breathe?”

Tim rolled his eyes and slapped the mat. “I yield. Now let me up, you overgrown ox.” This was a strategic retreat. Really.

Jason gave him an extra squeeze and released him, rolling to the side to give Tim a chance to reorient himself.

Goddammit, that had been close. Tim sucked in another deep breath and stood up, assuming a new defensive stance while he waited for Jason to attack.

“Again?” Jason asked, shaking his head incredulously. “Glutton for punishment today, aren’t ya?”

“How else am I supposed to learn this new move if I don’t practice it?”

“Seems to me all you’re doing is getting acquainted with the floor, but whatever. It’s your funeral.” Jason smirked at his bad joke and rushed forward, planting one powerful leg on the mat and using the momentum to pivot and snap his other leg around to complete the kick.

Tim ducked under it and rolled just in time to miss the follow through with the other leg. For someone so huge, Jason was surprisingly quick and flexible. The fight was on in earnest again, blow meeting blow as they grappled their way across the mats. Neither gave quarter and Tim held his own against Jason longer than the other man probably expected. This was one of those times where his shorter build came in handy because he was better able to center and ground himself against the bigger powerhouse.

In the end, it was the very obvious grope against the cheeks of his ass that had Tim losing his focus. He floundered, gaping at his sparring partner, and found himself landing face first into the mat, once again with Jason’s heavy body pinning him down.

“What? What was that?” Tim gasped out, slapping the mat to signal his yield. The touch had been so unexpected and so out of character that it was small wonder he’d lost his concentration.

Jason didn’t move. If anything, he readjusted himself and settled more comfortably into the planes of Tim’s body.

Tim felt the heat rushing to his face as he realized just what was now nestled against the curve of his bottom, something that was growing harder the longer it stayed there.

“Are we done playing this little game, Pretender? Don’t try and lie to me. You’ve been fighting a boner since we walked onto this mat.”

At the moment, Tim was thanking his lucky stars that they were at his place rather than the Batcave. Then again, this was probably why Jason was doing it in the first place since he knew how much privacy meant to him. Here in Tim’s own workout room, it was just the two of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim tried, but Jason rocked his hips, the slide of his hardening length pressing even more firmly against him.

There was no mistaking the trembling moan that escaped Tim’s mouth for anything other than what it was. Need. Need for the man who was now chuckling darkly into Tim’s ear and making his insides churn and twist with desire.

“Try again, Tim. Tell me you’re not hard as a rock right now.”

That would be a complete and utter lie. Tim was sure he’d never been this hard in all his life. “I…I…” He couldn’t get the words out as Jason teasingly thrusted against him a second time.

“Tell me what you want, Timmers. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s very little I’m gonna say no to at the moment.”

Holy crap. Lights exploded behind Tim’s eyes as his big brain finally made the connection that had been eluding him. Jason wanted him. Maybe not as much as he wanted him, but still. Tim grinned into the mat and purposefully arched his back, rubbing the smooth fabric of his gym shorts against the now solid cock behind him.

“I want you to fuck me, Jason. Right here, right now.”

Jason ran his tongue over the outside of Tim’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Now was that so hard to admit?” he growled in a low voice, his hands tugging at their clothes.

“Yes,” Tim bit back and ground harder against Jason. “But what I really want to know is how you knew in the first place.”

Calloused hands ran up the back of Tim’s bare thighs, tickling the skin and brushing under the hem to explore higher. “A big bird of the Super variety. I don’t know how he knew I was interested in ya, but he said he was 100% certain you were too.”

Kon was a dead man. Hours will be spent plotting his demise, but right now, thinking was overrated because those were Jason’s hands guiding Tim up onto his knees and peeling off his shorts and underwear. Those were Jason’s fingers gripping the round globes of his ass and spreading them apart. That was Jason’s breath growing warmer and warmer against his skin as he leaned in.

Tim keened as he felt Jason’s mouth close around him, thoughts scattering to the four corners of the globe. Sex first, revenge plots later.

[gaysparklepires]

15. Wager

I stared at him for a long minute, speechless. I couldn’t find a single word to say to him. Too many thoughts were flooding through my mind.

As he watched my stunned expression, the seriousness left his face.

“Okay,” he said, grinning. “That’s all.”

“Jake—“ It felt like there was something sticking in my throat. I tried to clear the obstruction. “I can’t—I mean I don’t… I… I have to go.”

I turned, but he caught my shoulders and spun me around.

“No, wait. I know. I know how things are, Beau. But, look, answer me this, all right? Do you want me go away and never see you again? Be honest.”

It was hard to concentrate on his question, so it took a minute to answer. “No, I don’t want that at all,” I finally answered.

Jacob grinned again. “See.”

“But I don’t… I don’t know if I want you around for the same reason that you want me around,” I objected.

“Tell me exactly why you want me around, then.”

I thought carefully. “I miss you when you’re not there. When you’re happy,” I qualified carefully, “It makes me happy. But, Jake, I love you, I’m just not in love with you.”

He nodded, unruffled. “But you do want me around.”

“Yes.” I sighed. He was impossible to discourage.

“Then I’ll stick around.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” I grumbled.

“Yep.” He stroked the tips of his fingers across my right cheek. I caught his hand and held it firmly.

“Do you think you could behave yourself a little better, at least?” I sighed.

“No, I don’t. You decide, Beau. You can have me the way I am—bad behavior included—or not at all.”

I stared at him, frustrated. “That’s mean.”

“So are you.”

That pulled me up short, and I took an involuntary step back. He was right. If I wasn’t mean—and greedy, too—I would tell him I didn’t want to be friends and walk away. It was wrong to try to keep my friend when that would hurt him. Why couldn’t I just let Jake go? Why was I doing this to him?

“You’re right,” I whispered.

He laughed. “I forgive you. Just try not to get too mad at me. Because I recently decided that I’m not giving up. Remember what I said, babe?” He grinned at me. “I’ve got loads of time.”

“Jacob.” I stared into his dark eyes, trying to make him take me seriously. “I love him.”

“You love me, too,” he reminded me. “Maybe it’s not the same way… Or maybe it is. He’s not the only one for you, Beau. Not anymore. Maybe he was once, but he left. And now he’s just going to have to deal with the consequence of that choice—me.”

I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”

Suddenly, he was serious. He put his hand on my cheek, gently holding my face so that I couldn’t look away from his intent gaze.

“Until your heart stops beating, Beau,” he said. “I’ll be here—fighting. Don’t forget that you have options.”

“I—I don’t want options,” I stammered, trying to pull my eyes free of his, but somehow I couldn’t. “My heartbeats could be numbered, Jacob. Time isn’t on my side anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “All the more reason to fight—fight harder now, while I can,” he whispered.

He still had his hand on my cheek, his thumb gently stroked my cheekbone, then his other arm moved to my waist. I felt my face begin to burn red. Abruptly, I saw the resolve form in his eyes.

“Jake—“ I started to object, but it was too late.

His lips crushed mine, stopping my protest. He kissed me urgently, roughly, his other hand now gripping tight around my waist, making escape impossible. I shoved against his chest with all my strength, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His mouth was soft, despite the urgency, his lips molding to mine in a warm, unfamiliar way.

I grabbed at his face, trying to push him away, failing again. He seemed to notice this time, though, and it aggravated him. His lips forced mine open, and I could feel his hot breath in my mouth.

I relaxed my body as best I could under the circumstances, and in response his arms loosened slightly. I took the opportunity to shove him, hard as I could, off of me. He stumbled back and stared at me with a slightly surprised, if not vaguely euphoric look on his face. My eyes felt like daggers as I glared at him.

I pulled my arm back and then let it snap forward, punching him in the mouth with as much power as I could force out of my body.

There was a crunching sound.

“Ow! OW!” I screamed, frantically hopping up and down in agony while I clutched my hand to my chest. It felt like it was broken.

Jacob stared at me in shock. “Are you all right?”

“No, dammit! You broke my hand!”

“Beau, you broke your hand. Now stop dancing around and let me look at it.”

“Do not touch me!” I growled at him. He shrank away minutely from the anger in my eyes. “I’m going home!”

“I’ll get my car,” he said quietly. He wasn’t even rubbing his jaw like they did in the movies. How pathetic.

“No, thanks,” I snapped. “I’d rather walk.” I turned toward the road. It was only a few miles to the border. As soon as I got away from him, Alice would see me. She’d send somebody to pick me up.

“Just let me drive you home,” Jacob insisted. Unbelievably, he had the nerve to wrap his arm around my waist and turn me to look at him. “Come on, Beau—“

I kneed him. In the groin. Hard.

Jacob yelped, and buckled over. Apparently, the rest of him wasn’t as tough as his face.

I decided that walking all the way home would only prolong the pain in my hand and I needed to get it looked at as quickly as I could. I waited for Jacob to stop groaning on the ground.

When he had recovered, he solemnly followed me to his car. Opened the door, and helped me in. When he got in the driver’s side, he sighed heavily.

“Beau…” He began.

“Don’t.” I snapped without looking at him. “I can’t believe that punch didn’t hurt you at all.”

“I may not be made out of stone, but I’m not that soft.” He grumbled. Then he shifted uncomfortably. “Mostly…”

“Hmph.” I grunted in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at having left some sort of a dent.

“Oh, c’mon, Beau,” he said, glancing tentatively at me. “That had to be better than kissing a rock.”

“Not even remotely close,” I told him coldly.

He pursed his lips. “You could just be saying that.”

“But I’m not.”

That seemed to bother him for a second, but then he perked up. “You’re just mad. I don’t have any experience with this kind of thing, but I thought it was pretty incredible myself.”

“Ugh,” I groaned.

“You’re going to think about it tonight. When he thinks you’re asleep, you’ll be thinking about your options.”

“If I think about you tonight, Jacob Black, it will be about how disgusted I am with you.”

He slowed the car to a crawl, turning to stare at me with his dark eyes wide and earnest. “Just think about how it could be, Beau,” he urged in a soft, eager voice. “You wouldn’t have to change anything for me. You know Charlie would be happy if you picked me. I could protect you just as well as your vampire can—maybe better. And I would make you happy, Beau. There’s so much I could give you that he can’t. I’ll bet he couldn’t even kiss you like that—because he would hurt you. I would never, never hurt you, Beau.”

I held up my injured hand.

A guilty looked crossed his face. “That wasn’t my fault. I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re not helping your case any.”

“C’mon, Beau,” he sighed.

“Jacob, I love him. I’m happy with him.”

“But you were almost happy without him,” he said pointedly. “When he left, you started moving on. You could be happy without him. You could be happy with me.”

“Jacob, I—“

“Besides,” he interrupted, “you’ll never be able to be as sure of him as you are of me. He left you once, he could do it again.”

“No, he will not,” I said shortly. I wasn’t trying to be vindictive, but I was angry at him. “You left me once,” I reminded in a cold voice, thinking of the weeks he’d hidden from me, the word’s he’d said to me in the woods beside his home…

“I never did,” he argued hotly. “They told me I couldn’t tell you—that it wasn’t safe for you if we were together. But I never left, never! I used to run around your house at night—like I do now. Just making sure you were okay.”

“You don’t get to make me feel bad for you, Jacob Black. Not right now.” I said icily, my eyes staring straight ahead. “Take me home. My hand hurts.”

He sighed, and started driving at a normal speed, watching the road.

“Just think about it, Beau.”

“No, thank you,” I sniffed.

“You will. Tonight. And I’ll be thinking about you while you’re thinking about me.”

“Maybe if I’m having a nightmare about you. Which is likely.”

He grinned over at me. “You kissed me back.”

I gasped, unthinkingly balling my hands up into fists again, hissing when my hurt hand reacted.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I did not.”

“I think I can tell the difference.”

“Obviously you can’t—that was not kissing back, that was trying to get you the hell off of me, you idiot.”

He laughed a low, throaty laugh. “Touchy. Almost overly defensive, I would say.”

“Knock it off, or I will knee you again and I can promise you that you won’t recover as well.”

He didn’t answer, but his posture shrank slightly.

“And we will be perfectly clear on the fact that I absolutely did not kiss you back, Jacob Black.” I said, glaring over at him.

“Beau—“ he began, but I cut him off.

“I want you to look at my face. Look very carefully at my face and tell me if I’m lying about kissing you back.” I snapped.

He turned his head to glance at me, a small smirk dancing on the corners of his lips. The second his eyes met mine, any trace of humor disappeared from his face and was replaced with obvious disappointment. He looked back to the road.

I took a deep breath and looked down at my throbbing hand. I concentrated on the pain, trying to stretch out my fingers, to ascertain where the most damage was. Sharp pains stabbed along my knuckles. I groaned.

“I’m really sorry about your hand,” Jacob said in a small, but sincere, voice. “Next time you want to hit me, use a baseball bat or a crowbar, okay?”

“Don’t think I’ll forget that,” I muttered.

I didn’t realize where we were going until we were on my road.

“Why are you taking me here?” I demanded.

He looked at me blankly. “I thought you said you were going home?”

“Ugh. I guess you can’t take me to Edward’s house, can you?” I ground my teeth in frustration.

Pain twisted across his face, and I could see that this affected more than anything else I’d said.

“This is your home, Beau,” he said quietly.

“Yes, it is, but do any doctors live here?” I asked, holding up my hand again.

“Oh.” He thought about that for a minute. “I’ll take you to the hospital. Or Charlie can.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s unnecessary.”

He let the Rabbit idle in front of the house, deliberating with an unsure expression. Charlie’s cruiser was in the driveway.

I sighed. “Go home, Jacob.”

I climbed out of the car awkwardly, heading for the house. The engine cut off behind me, and I was less surprised than annoyed to find Jacob beside me again.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to get some ice on my hand, and then I am going to call Edward and tell him to come and get me and take me to Carlisle so that he can fix my hand. Then, if you’re still here, I am going to go hunt up a crowbar.”

He didn’t answer. He opened the front door and held it for me.

We walked silently past the front room where Charlie was lying on the sofa.

“Hey, kids,” he said, sitting forward. “Nice to see you here, Jake.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Jacob answered quietly, pausing. I continued straight to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, Beau?” Charlie wondered.

“He thinks he broke his hand,” I heard Jacob tell him. I went to the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice cubes.

“How did he do that?” I could hear Charlie getting to his feet, a twinge of panic in his voice.

“He hit me.” Jacob answered.

“Why did he hit you?” Charlie’s voice was grave.

I beat the tray against the edge of the sink. The ice scattered inside the basin, and I grabbed a handful with my good hand and wrapped the cubes in the dishcloth on the counter.

“Why did he hit you, Jacob?” Charlie asked again, his voice serious.

“Because I kissed him,” Jacob finally said.

I could hear a pause as went for the phone.

“Did he ask you to kiss him?” Charlie asked slowly.

There was a longer pause.

“No.” Jacob said quietly.

I dialed Edward’s cell.

“Beau?” he answered on the first ring. He sounded more than relieved—he was delighted. I could hear the Volvo’s engine running in the background; he was already in the car—that was good. “You left your phone… I’m sorry, did Jacob drive you home?”

“Yes,” I grumbled. “Will you come and get me, please?”

“I’m on my way,” he said at once. “What’s wrong?”

“I want Carlisle to look at my hand. I think it’s broken.”

It had gone quiet in the front room, and I wondered if Jacob had bolted.

“What happened?” Edward demanded, his voice going flat.

“I punched Jacob,” I admitted.

“Good,” Edward said bleakly. “Though I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

I laughed once, without humor. “I wish I’d hurt him.” I sighed in frustration. “I didn’t do any damage at all.”

“I can fix that,” he offered.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

There was a slight pause. “That doesn’t sound like you,” he said, wary now. “What did he do?”

“He kissed me,” I growled.

All I heard on the other end of the line was the sound of an engine accelerating.

In the other room, Charlie spoke again. “I think you need to go home, Jacob,” he said, and it wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

“I need to talk to Beau.”

“I don’t think I want you here right now, to be perfectly honest.” Charlie said severely.

“Is the dog still there?” Edward finally spoke again.

“Yes.”

“I’m around the corner,” he said darkly, and the line disconnected.

As I hung up the phone I heard the sound of his car racing down the street. The brakes protested loudly as he slammed to a stop out front. I went to get the door.

“Beau, kiddo, is your hand okay?” Charlie rushed to me as I walked by, his face full of concern. Jacob hovered in the background, looking embarrassed.

I lifted the ice pack to show it off. “It hurts… and it’s swelling.”

“Do you want me to kick Jacob out?” Charlie asked quietly.

“It’s fine, Dad. Thank you, though.” I sighed.

“I will, if you want me to.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Either way, Billy’s going to get an earful from me.”

I smiled a little before walking on to open the door. Edward was waiting.

“Let me see,” he murmured.

He examined my hand gently, so carefully that it caused me no pain at all. His hands were almost as cold as the ice, and they felt good against my skin.

“I’m not sure if it’s broken, it may be just a bad sprain,” he said. “I’m proud of you. You must have put some force behind this.”

“As much as I have.” I sighed. “Not enough, apparently.”

He kissed my hand softly. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised. And then he called, “Jacob,” his voice still quiet and even.

“Now, now,” Charlie cautioned stepping forward.

Jacob walked closer, slowly, but still hovering behind Charlie.

“I don’t want any fighting, do you understand?” Charlie looked at Edward, then at Jacob. “As chief of police, I’m warning both of you that I don’t want this to get physical.” He cleared his throat. “However, given the circumstances,” he looked back at Edward, “as Beau’s father, I wouldn’t mind if you give Jacob a piece of your mind.” He said seriously.

“Understood,” Edward said in a restrained tone.

“Dad, if you’re still throwing your badge around can I press charges?” I asked, glaring at Jacob.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smirk. “I could manage an assault charge, I think.”

“I’ll take the trade any day.” Jacob muttered.

Edward grimaced.

“Actually, Dad, don’t you have a baseball bat somewhere in your room? I want to borrow it for a minute.”

Charlie was definitely hiding a smirk now. “Easy, Beau.”

“Let’s go have Carlisle look at your hand before someone ends up in a jail cell,” Edward said. He put his arm around me and pulled me to the door.

“Fine,” I said, leaning against him. I wasn’t so angry anymore, seeing how protective Charlie had been and now that Edward was with me. I felt comforted by both of them, and my hand didn’t bother me as much.

We were walking down the sidewalk when I heard Charlie’s angry voice behind me.

“What do you think you’re doing, Jacob?”

“Give me a minute, Charlie,” Jacob answered. “Don’t worry, I won’t pick a fight.”

I looked back and Jacob was following us, stopping to close the door in Charlie’s surprised and unhappy face.

Edward ignored him at first, leading me to the car. He helped me inside, shut the door, and then he turned to face Jacob on the sidewalk.

I leaned anxiously through the open window. Charlie was visible in the house, peeking through the drapes in the front room.

Jacob’s stance was casual, his arms folded across his chest, but the muscles in his jaw were tight.

Edward spoke in a voice so peaceful and gentle that it made the words strangely more threatening. “I’m not going to kill you now, because it would upset Beau.”

“Hmph,” I grumbled.

Edward turned slightly to throw me a quick smile. His face was still calm. “It would bother you in the morning,” he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek.

Then he turned back to Jacob. “But if you ever bring him back damaged again—and I don’t care whose fault it is; I don’t care if he merely trips, or if a meteor falls out of the sky and hits him in the head—if you return him to me in less than the perfect condition that I left him in, you will be running with three legs. Do you understand that, mongrel?”

Jacob rolled his eyes.

“Who’s going back?” I muttered.

Edward continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “And if you ever kiss him again, I will break your jaw for him,” he promised, his voice still gentle and velvet and deadly.

“What if he wants me to?” Jacob said quickly.

“Hah!” I snorted.

“If that’s what he wants, then I won’t object.” Edward shrugged, untroubled. “You might want to wait for him to say it, rather than trust your interpretation of body language—but it’s your face.”

Jacob tried to grin, but something looked off about it.

“You wish,” I grumbled.

“Yes, he does,” Edward murmured.

“Well, if you’re done rummaging through my head,” Jacob said with a thick edge of annoyance, “why don’t you go take care of his hand?”

“One more thing,” Edward said slowly. “I’ll be fighting for him, too. You should know that. I’m not taking anything for granted, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.”

“Good,” Jacob growled. “It’s no fun beating someone who forfeits.”

“He is mine.” Edward’s low voice was suddenly dark, not as composed as before. “I didn’t say I would fight fair.”

“Neither did I.”

“Best of luck.”

Jacob nodded. “Yes, may the best man win.”

“That sounds about right… pup.”

Jacob grimaced briefly, then he composed his face and leaned around Edward to smile at me as best as he could. I glowered back.

“I hope your hand feels better soon. I’m really sorry you’re hurt.”

His non-apology only angered me more. I narrowed my eyes, and when I spoke my voice was venomous.

“If that’s your best attempt at an apology, Jacob Black, then congratulations; You’re just as childish and idiotic as your actions today made you seem, and you’ve not only completely lost this stupid fight you think you’re in the running for, but you’ve also completely obliterated any chance you ever had at being my friend again.”

I saw him minutely stagger back, surprise on his face. I turned to look out the windshield, away from him. Edward walked around the car and climbed in the driver’s side. I didn’t know if Jacob went back into the house or continued to stand there, watching me.

“How do you feel?” Edward asked as we drove away.

“Irritated.”

He chuckled. “I meant your hand.”

I shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“True,” he agreed, and frowned. “You didn’t spare his feelings.”

“I don’t think he deserved anything less than the truth of the situation.” I said quietly.

“Perhaps,” Edward smiled, “but he’s very upset.”

“Good.”

Edward drove around his house to the garage. Emmett and Royal were there, Royal’s legs were sticking out from under the bottom of Emmett’s huge Jeep. Emmett was sitting beside him, one hand reached under the jeep towards him. It took me a moment to realize that he was acting as the jack.

Emmett watched curiously as Edward helped me carefully out of the car. His eyes zeroed in on the hand I cradled against my chest.

Emmett grinned. “Trying to walk and chew gum at the same time again, Beau?”

I glared at him fiercely. “No, Emmett. I punched a werewolf in the face.”

Emmett blinked, and then burst into a roar of laughter. “Badass!” he howled.

As Edward led me past them, Royal spoke from under the car.

“Jasper’s going to win the bet,” he said dryly.

Emmett’s laughter stopped at once, and he studied me with appraising eyes.

“What bet?” I demanded, pausing.

“Let’s get you to Carlisle,” Edward urged. He was staring at Emmett. His head shook infinitesimally.

“What bet?” I insisted as I turned on him.

“Thanks, Royal,” he muttered as he tightened his arm around my waist and pulled me toward the house.

“Edward…,” I grumbled.

“It’s infantile,” he shrugged. “Emmett and Jasper like to gamble.”

“Emmett will tell me.” I tried to turn, but his arm was like iron around me.

He sighed. “They’re betting on how many times you might… slip up in the first year.”

“Oh.” I grimaced, trying to hide my sudden horror as I realized what he meant. “They have a bet about how many people I’ll kill if I’m changed?”

“Yes,” he admitted unwillingly. “Royal thinks the odds are in Jasper’s favor.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Jasper’s betting high.”

“It will make him feel better if you have a hard time adjusting. He’s tired of being the weakest link.”

“Sure. Of course it will. I guess I could throw in a few extra homicides, if it makes Jasper happy. Why not?” I was babbling, my voice a blank monotone. In my head, I was seeing newspaper headlines, lists of names…

He squeezed me. “You don’t have to worry about it now. In fact, you don’t have to worry about it ever, if you don’t want to.”

I sighed. Edward hurried me into the house.

My hand wasn’t broken. Just a bad sprain. Carlisle told me I’d be fine in a brace if I promised to keep it on. I promised.

Edward could tell I was out of it as Carlisle worked to fit a brace carefully to my hand. He worried aloud a few times that I was in pain, but I assured him that wasn’t it.

As if I needed—or even had room for—one more thing to worry about.

All of Jasper’s stories about newly created vampires had been percolating in my head since he’d explained his past. Now those stories jumped into sharp focus with the news of his and Emmett’s wager. I wondered randomly what they were betting. What was a motivating prize when you had everything?

I considered what it meant to become a vampire, if running didn’t work, if hiding wasn’t enough. If I had to become a vampire, what would I be? I’d be strong and fast. I’d be beautiful, probably. I’d be just like the Cullens.

I’d also be wild. Bloodthirsty. Maybe I would not be able to stop myself from killing people. Strangers, people who had never harmed me. People like the growing number of victims in Seattle, who’d had families and friends and futures. People who’d had lives. And I could be the monster who took that away from them.

Could I handle that possibility? I trusted Edward, trusted him to keep me from doing anything I would regret. I knew he’d take me to Antarctica and hunt penguins if I asked him to. And I would do whatever it took to be a good person. A good vampire. If that’s what I chose.

But then, if I really were somehow like that—like the nightmarish images of newborns Jasper had painted in my head—could I possibly be me? And if all I wanted was to kill people, what would happen to the things I wanted now?

Edward was so obsessed with me not missing anything as a human. Usually, it seemed kind of silly. There weren’t many human experiences that I worried about missing. As long as I just experienced, what was I missing?

I stared at his face while he watched Carlisle fix my hand. There was nothing in this world that I wanted more than him. Would that, could that, change?

Was there a human experience that I was not willing to give up?

[keldae]

11 from the kiss meme for theron/xaja :D

Thank you, Nonny! :D 11: ‘We’re actually being kind of silly for once’ kiss.

“How long has your dad owned this place?” Theron asked as he stepped out on the balcony overlooking the widespread sands of Tatooine. Below him, he could survey the entire little settlement that didn’t resemble anything so much as a very large, if not well-used, moisture farm.

“He said he bought it not long after I disappeared and Zakuul invaded. He uses it more as a hideout when he wants to avoid Anchorhead or Mos Eisely. Apparently there’s enough covert security systems here to keep even the most adventurous Sand People deterred from here.” Xaja came up beside Theron, slipping the settlement key back into her trouser pocket. “The only people to come through here while he’s owned the place were a couple groups of Jawa traders.”

“Nice and secure then.” Theron looked up at the dusky sky. The Star Fortress was finally gone, and now he and Xaja were staying low for a couple of days until the Zakuulans in the area quit looking for her. This out-of-the-way stronghold was an ideal location. “It’s not too shabby for a hideout either.”

Xaja laughed. “Dad might have been more concerned with practicality when he bought it, but he and Sorand both spent enough time here that they at least made it comfortable.” She came up and wrapped her arms around Theron’s waist, resting her cheek against his back. He’d shed his jacket already, letting him feel her presence better through only the shirt he still wore. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my father’s not the biggest fan of ‘roughing it’.”

“I guess it comes with age.” Theron grinned and reached up to squeeze Xaja’s hands around his midsection.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of etiquette about poking fun at his age when he’s not here to defend himself,” Xaja scolded, although Theron could hear the laughter in her voice.

“No, see, this way I can make fun of him without the risk of getting stabbed or shot or poisoned.”

There was a deep inhale that Theron could feel quite pleasantly against his back, then an exasperated sigh. “Is this some sort of spy rivalry thing you two have constantly going on?”

“I’ll have you know, that’s a very sacred tradition among spies originating from opposite corners of the galaxy,” Theron retorted as he reached around to give Xaja a poke in the ribs. “So you-”

Xaja squeaked and jumped away from Theron’s poking finger. Immediately the spy froze, craning his neck to look over his shoulder at the tiny woman behind him. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“No…”

Something about Xaja’s meek tone of voice made Theron squirm until he’d turned around in her arms and could look down at her. “Are you sure? Did I just find a new bruise from that Exarch that you didn’t tell me about?”

“Theron, I promise I’m not hurt!”

Theron frowned as he rested her hands on her bare arms, then slowly ran his fingers over her ribs. Nothing felt broken or inflamed, but she still seemed more tense than usual… An idea presented itself to him, and his fingers poked her again in the stomach, making her squeak again.

An evil grin slowly spread across Theron’s face as he realized what was wrong. “You’re ticklish!”

Xaja’s vivid green eyes went wide. “Am not!” Her voice was far too fast and high-pitched to even make a valiant effort at being believable.

“All evidence seems to point to the contrary, Commander.” Theron demonstrated with his fingers dancing across her ribs, and he was hard-pressed to not laugh as she tried to jump away from him. “Hmm, whatever should I do with this new information…”

“Umm… let me go and forget this conversation ever happened?”

“Yeah, I could do that…” Theron grinned wickedly as Xaja’s eyes widened further, “but where’s the fun in that?”

“For kriff’s sake, Thero-EEEEEP!” Xaja squealed as Theron launched his assault on her sensitive sides, the fragments of her Jedi decorum rapidly disintegrating into shrieks and giggles. Apparently having one’s ribs and stomach mercilessly tickled was enough to make a Master of the Jedi Order forget that they could in fact use the Force to escape this predicament, because instead of merely throwing Theron away (or even trying to retaliate on his own ribs, which Theron refused to admit would have been a very successful retaliation), she instinctively tried to lower herself away from the assault and Theron’s fingers, curling in on herself in a vain effort to protect her sides.

Theron just followed her down, laughing as he managed to grab one of her hands. Xaja realized her predicament too late, and tried to flee before Theron pinned her to the floor of the balcony with his heavier body weight, getting both of her wrists caught over her head. The petite Jedi squealed and squirmed under the spy, in such a way that Theron very nearly got distracted enough to let her go. “You are such a jerk!” she gasped out as she tried to tug her hands free of Theron’s grip.

“Damn straight, and you keep me around anyway.” Theron grinned down at his still-squirming Jedi captive and tried not to think too hard about what her squirming was doing to him down south. “Apparently you’re a glutton for punishment, Master Jedi.”

“Kriff you.”

“That can be arranged.” Theron lowered his head to drop a kiss on Xaja’s lips. “Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable?”

 Xaja’s breathing seemed to finally settle a bit as she kissed Theron back. “Only you, pretty much every morning you wake up with me.” She looked up at her pinned hands, then back at Theron’s eyes. “Truce?”

“Hmmm…” Theron pretended to think about it as he moved to hold Xaja’s wrists with only one larger hand, his other hand slowly drifting down her side and making her flinch away from him. “I suppose terms of surrender can be worked out.”

“I said no such thing about surren-” Xaja squealed as Theron’s fingers found a particularly sensitive spot on her ribs. “Okay! You win! Lemme up!”

Theron chuckled as he finally released her hands and rolled to the side so she could breathe. “I need to make a note of this day. 12 Melona, twenty-”

“Hey!” Xaja swatted Theron’s chest as she rolled to face him. “That’s not very nice of you to poke fun!”

“Or exploit what poking does to you?” Theron smirked and reached a hand over, trying to not laugh as Xaja’s eyes darted to warily watch his hand until it rested on her cheek. “Poking fun might not be nice… but it’s so entertaining. I didn’t even know you could squeal like that.”

“Theron!”

Theron laughed at Xaja’s glare. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, then pulled back to look at her contemplatively. “I wonder where else you’re ticklish…”

“Theron Shan, you touch my feet and I won’t be responsible for what happens to your face.”

“Okay, fine, feet are off-limits.” Theron grinned. “But…”

Xaja squeaked as Theron suddenly moved to touch the back of her knee. Oh, yep, that was another sensitive zone. “Theron!”

Theron grinned as she snatched his hand, quickly rolling them both over again and losing himself in another kiss that she reciprocated. One more important bit of information that he could keep all to himself and not share with anyone else in the Alliance…

[freljordsking-blog]

Academy Blooms

This is a Darius x Kayn story I wrote for @axe-me-darius

It contains NSFW material under the cut. Please be warned as the NSFW material contains partial non con.

If you are troubled by anything above, then please do not continue reading under the cut.

Enjoy~!

The main door to the gym creaked open. It was after school hours, cheers coming from within the gym hall. There were loud squeaks of shoes across the lacquer polished wood flooring. Quietly a young man sneaked towards the large doors, other side where people loudly roared happily before a buzzer sounded. Slowly the door opened silently after a click of the bar unlocking. One foot creeped in, drawing no attention to the male who obviously didn’t belong.

Kayn was quiet, dressed in a black jacket, black skin tight jeans, and a deep grey side bag. The long black hair he had blended in with his dark outfit. The only indication of difference between hair and clothing was the long blue bang hanging over the right side of his face. His blue and red eyes observed the area.

Sixteen players stood on and next to the basketball court dressed in either red and black, or grey and blue. Two coaches stood on either sideline, groups of cheerleaders waving pompoms around. Crowds of people cluttered seating stands reaching up each wall. Kayn’s eyes observed each person, quickly scanning about.

People in the stands… The cheerleaders… Players… Female, male, female, male, male, male… Kayn had come searching for someone. But he couldn’t seem to find them…

Darius dribbled the basketball down the court length, brutishly defending the ball with his arm hooked out. Although the other team persisted to stop him, Darius was well known for being unstoppable once he started moving. Reaching the inner circle of the enemy’s hoop, he leaped up. Shoving a few people out of the way who were trying to stop him, the ball was slam dunked through the ring. Half the audience broke into an intense celebration, other half applauding at the impressive display. A whistle blew, buzzer sounded, and the score was increased. The scoreboard read 72 to 66 with only three minutes left on the clock in the final round.

The gothic looking boy walked up to the side of a stand, watching in awe of Darius’ powerful actions. He watched him carefully, unable to stop himself from staring. This guy had bullied him so many times before. But instead of keeping his distance, he couldn’t help coming back. A finger reached up and touched the black bruising around his left eye. Darius’ fist left the mark on him, although Kayn couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t only stay in a trance, watching the Noxus Academy student jogging back with his team as a multitude of them whacked his back encouragingly.

Kayn had been going to an academy nearby, however once he had met Darius, he was suddenly compelled to seek him out. It wasn’t long before Darius was actually transferred to the same academy as him. Although he still played basketball for his same team. Darius was a year above Kayn.

The male who stood in awe watched the Noxian stride along the court. He watched his legs carry him, powerful arms, solid build, attractive face, curl of his hair bouncing with each step… He was incredibly popular. Kayn, on the other hand, was not at all. He was picked on regularly, bullied relentlessly by Darius and his peers, and those similar. ‘Pretty boy’ he was called because of his blue hairs. ‘Just a woman wannabe’ his long hair in a braid sparked insults. But Kayn was by no means a weakling. He was well versed in martial arts. Despite his ongoing education, his off time was spent taking lessons from a man named Zed. Those lessons often left him with severe injuries for the week at the academy, leaving him to be further laughed at by Darius.

He was athletic and fit. But Darius was much larger. The Noxian was larger, bulkier, and obviously worked out regularly. However it wasn’t at all for show, despite the attention it got him. To Darius, it was about peak performance, being unstoppable, and never letting anyone best him.

Through Kayn’s thoughts and absentmindedness, he didn’t catch when two green orbs locked in on him. Darius looked somewhat confusingly at the dark haired male. “What are you doing here…?” He mumbled under his breath before honing his gaze angrily. “I’ll teach you to intrude on my turf. The gym is mine…” With that, someone down court called out for the team member to pass the ball down. With a wry smirk, the ball was hurled at an intense velocity. However, not to the one who requested it. Just above Kayn’s head, the orange ball slammed into the wall with a frightening bang. It bounced, clipping the male’s shoulder before cleverly reaching the hands of the one who asked for the ball in the first place.

The ninja in training’s shoulder erupted in pain. An injury from training left him vulnerable. Instead of drawing attention, he simply expelled all oxygen from his body and fell to the floor hidden by the stand. Darius let out a laugh, watching the shock on his face followed by him ducking to the ground, or so he thought.

The game continued, both teams tussling for the ball and having it go back and forth. With Noxus ahead and no further points scored, the final horn sounded for the game to be over. All members of the team grouped up and celebrated, joining in on the audience chanting “Noxus! Noxus! Noxus!” A minute passed by when everyone began to disperse. Both teams headed off to their respective locker rooms.

Passing across the gym from Kayn, Darius looked over to see him sat with his knees against his chest. His arm gripped the arm hit with the ball as a tear rolled down his cheek. With a smile, he joined his team and headed out to get changed. The black clothed boy grit his teeth. Zed had broken and dislocated his shoulder just days before. Normally ball hit would hurt and subside quickly, but like salt on a wound he was flooded with uncontrollable agony. “I-… I’ll make you pay. Y-You’ll pay you fucking asshole.”

Gym now clear of all people, Kayn was left completely alone. Both teams were in their changing rooms, some already leaving. The junior stood, storming towards the door and into the corridor. Down the hall was the entrance he sought. A few students exited, ignoring the smaller peer. He then took his chance to sneak in.

NSFW Content under read more

Darius slipped a white dress shirt on unbuttoned, placing the last of his shower items back into a sports bag. “Good shit big D!” A teammate walked up behind the notorious dunk master and slapped his back. “I heard some of the cheerleaders talkin’ about your performances recently. Seems like you’ve got yourself some more than just adoring fans. If you’re headed to your brother’s party tonight, you are SO going to get laid at least one of the girls! Hahaha! You player~! Plus you’re always so pent up and grumpy! Let loose and have a good time with someone for once!”

Darius simply smiled awkwardly and turned around. “You did great too, but I’m way more interested in action than I am in some stupid party. I’ll be there the day after having to clean up his mess as usual. Not to mention some dumb writing project that’s due tomorrow.”

“Come on man! Don’t be a pussy! There’s beer, chicks, music, it’ll be sick! You gotta come! You don’t really have a choice you know!”

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.”

“Alright. See you tonight then man! We gotta celebrate properly!” With that, the second last player exited the locker rooms, leaving Darius almost completely alone.

Behind a wall strolled Kayn, seeing the back of Darius who was placing the last of his sports clothes into his bag. A thud echoed through the empty room as the junior’s bag landed on the ground. Darius slowly turned around, seeing the younger man standing there with his fists up. It took a moment to register before the Noxian burst out into laughter. Leaning over his dress shirt hung open. Kayn could see the other’s chest and stomach heaving in and out as the hearty belly laugh mocked him relentlessly. Back up his back stretched, leaning back and holding his forehead in further mockery. Settling down finally, Darius shook his head in disbelief. “You’re kidding! Right?! Do you even have any idea what you’re doing right now?”

Instead of faltering, Kayn stood his ground. He even took a step forward with readied fists. “You’re a fucking idiot! Hahaha! I mean sure, if you really want to get beaten up again, let’s go. I had no idea you were such a glutton for punishment.” A devilish smile lit up his face, opting to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Although not ideal fighting gear, as it gripped his arms tightly also restricting movement, having the shirt open allowed easier movement.

The shorter male suddenly launched a punch that connected with the other’s solid chest. Kayn grunted angrily, but the sudden stop sent force up to his shoulder. He winced and closed his blue eye, gasping in pain. Darius’ counter was a prompt fist in the gut. Winded, Kayn collapsed to the floor. One arm gripped his shoulder, the other holding his stomach. “What’s your problem?” Darius taunted, picking the male up by the collar and tossing him against the wall.

Through shallow breaths, Kayn winced and pulled his coat off. Desperate for more air, he undid one of the top buttons on his pearly white shirt. “Y-you…” He panted. “You’re my problem! You’re my entire problem! I-I can’t…”

“Fucking idiot. If that’s how it is, then I’ll make myself a real problem!” Grabbing the other’s right arm, he pulled it back and tossed him at the bench. And walking over to him. “You’re a real piece of work. Getting beaten up all week, then turning up after the weekend with more injuries! You’re a fuckin’ sadist aren’t you!” Darius only shook his head and strolled over. Gently pulling his shirt off, he rolled it up and placed it on his bag.

Meanwhile, Kayn coughed at the ground with both arms on the bench. Finally he could breathe, chest still aching. Darius then picked him up, turning him around so he was sitting on the ground. Fiddling with his waist, the button and zip promptly showed his large bulge contained within some black underwear. “Might as well make use of you.” Pulling his length out, Darius slapped his length against Kayn’s cheek. “I haven’t gotten off in weeks. And I gotta say, you’re not too bad. Yeah you’re a woman wannabe and a long haired freak, but you know, I like it.” The smile on Darius’ face widened, blood slowly surging to his loins. Already boasting a half stiff manhood, he promptly pushed it into Kayn’s mouth. There was little to no resistance, the junior taking it without moving at all. Still, only breathing, cock in his mouth.

“You gonna suck it you sadist?” Darius cooed, pulling it back out and stroking it idly.

“You’re fucking disgusting. Dickhead asshole perverted cunt bastard whore!” Kayn’s blood boiled, fuming with rage as he was unable to move due to the piercing pain coursing through his entire body. “I-I’ll fucking… Y-you can’t do this!!! Stop this!!!”

“Hey. You came to me, filthy mouth bitch.” Putting a hand to the blue hair, Darius gently pushed it out of the male’s face. “Definitely a pretty boy.” Once more, the erection was stuffed into Kayn’s mouth. Although inactive, the wetness of his tongue and saliva were covering the musky meat as Darius slowly guided it in and out. The feeling of the other’s tongue on his underside was incredible. He couldn’t help himself from entangling his fingers in the long black hair while rolling his hips back and forth.

The assassin in training sat completely still. His body was entirely limp. All he could do was breathe and blink, watching Darius’ muscular chest while the thick rod invaded his mouth. Although this wasn’t an ideal situation, Kayn couldn’t help but admire just how well toned and bulky the Noxian was. He had pecs, large biceps, and washboard abs. Then there was the V-line that directed attention to his thick manhood.

Eventually, Darius grew tired of the lifelessness, opting to start pumping faster. Noises started unintentionally being made, wet sounds and sloppy saliva being displaced. It was oddly arousing. But this was no fun. “Come on. If you’re gonna want it to hurt to get off, at least struggle. You’re making this really boring!” A while passed by with no changes.

Enough was enough and the Noxian pulled out and lifted Kayn up onto the bench with one hand. It was impressive to watch the man’s thick muscular arm flex as it lifted him. But as fast as he was picked up, the ninja in training was set down with his ass just off the seat. Darius stared down at him with a menacing smile, gripping the hem of the other’s pants and forcing them down. Pulling them all the way off, he was left with only a shirt on as his semi erect dick confusingly resisted the stimulation.

It wasn’t until there was a hard warmth at Kayn’s ass that he finally realised what was going on. “H-hey what are you-… S-sto… Please… D-d…“ The words trailed off as two athletic legs were lifted onto Darius’ broad shoulders. The Noxian entered his junior’s ass, struggling as the saliva was only partially sufficient for penetration.

The words Kayn spouted were futile as he lost his anal virginity, Darius losing his own virginity too. Red flooded the ninja in training’s face, blushing intensely and biting his lip. The cock plunged into him roughly, only half way in and it burned profusely. There was immense pain, but for some reason his own manhood was starting to grow. Tears began to form in the sides of his eyes as he watched Darius spit on his length for more lubricant.

“Oh fuck… I had no idea this felt so good…” Darius moaned, throbbing eagerly and grabbing Kayn’s hips. Beginning to move, he pulled out and pushed back in slowly. The other’s ass gripped around his dick like a vice, but it only made it all the better when he moved. It sent shivers up his spine. The Noxian flexed each time he thrust in, hungry to experience more.

“D-Darius… Please stop…”

The weeping words of Kayn softly flowed out of his lips and caressed Darius’ ears. It was then that he broke from the lusty stupor and began to realise what he was doing. He saw tears roll off his peer’s face. He saw the black ring around his eye. He saw the bruising on his neck, chest and shoulder. With a wet slop, he stepped back. Covering his mouth with his hand, Darius stood in shock before kneeling down.

“What have I done… Oh by the gods… What sort of monster am I…”

Although the other sobbed, the Noxian’s eyes welled with tears. “I-… I don’t know why I am an ass to you Kayn… Fuck… I didn’t mean to do something as fucked up as this… I just… Feel something about you and can only express it… But just doing this…” Two large hands cupped his face, leaning over and hanging his head in shame.

There was a moment of immense dread for the two of them. One almost used on the bench, the other helpless on the ground.

Kayn got up from his place, lowering to the ground and shuffling over to Darius. “Darius…” He finally spoke up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I like you… That’s… Why I… Keep being around you. B-but…” There was a moment’s silence, neither moving. Without warning, Kayn grabbed Darius’ chin and turned it to face him.

“You’re not a monster. We’re just confused.” He stated before leaning in. There was a mere sliver of air between their lips. They both stared, both eyes locking. “If you like me too… Just kiss me…” Kayn whispered.

Darius waited some time. He looked down shamefully, looking back up sympathetically. Slowly his hand brushed up Kayn’s arm, stopping at the elbow and staring down. The other’s hand then pushed his wrist up further to his cheek. They stayed silent, gazing into each other’s eyes. Gently Kayn nuzzled his cheek into Darius’ palm. The act elicited a soft breath and smile from the both of them.  Both of the Noxian’s arms suddenly wrapped around the smaller male’s body. Lunging forth, he eagerly kissed while also drawing the other tightly to his exposed chest. Their lips smacked together, pressing, nipping, teasing, licking. Passionately their mouths danced together, the junior ending up in his senior’s lap.

Several minutes passed of their intimacy before Darius pulled back. “Come back to my room. I-… I um… I want to do this right.” But when Kayn looked down and saw Darius’ pulsating manhood pressed up against his body, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. And I can help you with that project that’s keeping you busy tonight.” Kayn cooed.

“Wait, but I don’t have a project…”

“You do now~”

[scaplivingtogether]

Seven Crimes and Punishments- Living Together: Father and Daughter

Chapter 7

Father and Daughter

The sky was getting dark, turning into a nice shade of gray and the keyhole shaped sun was going behind the trees, indicating that it's sundown, just then a yellow speck of light appeared in the sky and started to fly down to the flat's doorstep, the speck then formed into Lucifer with a cardboard box filled with food. The demon placed the food on the patio ground and starts ringing the doorbell, the person who answered the door was Behemo, holding a riding crop.

"Hello, little Marie." Behemo teased.

"I'm not little, Barisol! And it's Lucifer now!" He...or she stomped on the patio. "Look, Held wants you back a half-hour ago."

"It's that late?" Behemo looks at the clock on the wall and saw that it was a quarter to Six in the evening. "Oh my, I didn't realized that I've been here that long."

"What are you doing in here anyways?" She looks inside.

"Oh just giving the trouble maker from earlier what for." He said wiggling his eyebrows. He then heard footsteps coming down from the attic, the demon looked and saw that it was Gallerian without his cloak and Kayo, finally finished with punishing the Duke. "...Please don't tell Held what I did here." Behemo said to the demon with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Oooooook? Anyways I got the food the sinners wanted as a make-up from this afternoon." She picks up the box.

"Oh right, that gluttonous animal was whining about it."

"I heard that, you drag queen!" Banica yelled.

"Is that Lucifer?" Allen said at the door.

"Yes, "HE" brought supper."

"Thank you." Allen takes the box, he then saw Lucifer stick her hand out.

"I believe payment is an order?" Lucifer said while brushing her fore and middle finger together up and down against her thumb.

"Nemesis, get the money." Nemesis went up stairs, possibly to the men's room.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Gallerian yelled out but was held back by Margarita and Riliane. "YOU GUYS ARE FASCISTS! UGLY, STUPID, RUDE, FASCISTS! FASCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTS!"

Soon enough, Nemesis came down from upstairs with the money in toll. "Here you go." Nemesis gave the money to Lucifer, the demon counted the money and found that she dug 300 evs from Gallerian's safe.

"That would do, come Behemo." She flew out.

"Well everyone, I bid thee farewell, pleasure making acquaintances with you all." He left.

"You fascists bitches!" Gallerian was on his knees as he whined after having his money spirited away.

"Ahhh shut up, Old man." Riliane told off the Judge with irritation in her voice. "You have more money than what you need to do with it."

"I need it for Michelle."

"I thought it was our vessels." Margarita squeaked.

"That too."

"Pfft, Greedy bastard." Nemesis sneered as she rolled her eyes.

"Ok ok enough said, your all hungry and cranky so let's untie the Duke and eat to our hearts content." Allen said while bringing the box to the dining room, Gallerian got up and went with Kayo to the attic to untie him, Sateriasis was tide in a hogtie position while hang from the ceiling in the attic with red rope, he seemed to have received many slaps to the face and a pair of eastern scissors lodged into the right side of his head. Kayo proceeded to untie the rope from the ceiling, causing Sateriasis to fall to the floor.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh." He groaned.

"Learned your lesson yet?" Gallerian said.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright." He untied the rope on the Duke's back, he then tried to stand up. "Stand up like a normal person." He did, "Come on you it's supper time."

"Oh food's here?" He asked tilting his head with half-lidded eyes.

"Yes?"

"Oh joy." His face looked dreamy, even his voice sounded dreamy.

~Downstairs, Dining Room~

Allen set out the plates on the table and started to open the box, it contained food from Mukoku: white rice, pork, sweet and sour chicken, chow mein noodles, shrimp egg rolls, little fortune cookies, steamed vegetables, and a bottle of Jakokunese Sake, it smelled delicious.

"Ooooh that looks good." Riliane said as she brought a pitcher of water, she then saw Banica who was eyeing on the food Lucifer brought over. "Down woman."

"Awww." Banica pouted, soon enough the others arrived and sat at the table, Nemesis and Gallerian fought over a chair.

"HEY!" Allen slapped his hands together at them, forcing one of them to sit in another chair next to Margarita, Allen also took notice in Sateriasis's dazed expression, "What's wrong with him?"

"I think me, Gallerian, and Behemo made him into a Masochist." Kayo said.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Riliane rolled her eyes.

"What's a masochist?" Margarita asked as she passed the rice to Nemesis.

"Not at the dinner table." Nemesis said. "I'll tell you later though." Once she passed the food to Kayo, Nemesis started snapping her fingers at him, nothing happened, then Kayo pulled her scissors out of his head thus bringing out of the daze.

"What just happened?" Sateriasis asked, he seemed to be back to normal.

"You looked like you we're in a daze." Banica said as she got some pork on her noodles.

"Well that's new."

"I'm sitting right here about to lose my appetite." Gallerian said as he broke his chop sticks apart, he started to sound sluggish.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell then let's not just sit here with our tummies rumbling, everybody dig in." Margarita said.

"Oh don't mind if I do, Marchioness." Banica grabs the chop sticks.

"AFTER...we say grace." Allen said. "I thought we can try clearing our minds a bit since you want to be with your loved ones in the heavenly yard, now everyone hold hands." Talk about awkward, but since they're hungry they have no choice, they took each other's hands and closed their eyes. "Dear Levia, we give our thanks and ask for your blessings for the meal we're about to partake in, Amen."

"Amen."

"NOM NOM NOM!" Banica then processed to stuff her face in chicken and rice.

"Have some manners lady geez." Riliane said in disgust as she is about to grab a sake bottle.

"Don't drink that." Kayo said as she snatched it away. "It's rice wine, your too young for it."

"But I was old one time, plus were all spirits now."

"I'm sorry your majesty, but you're still underage here, and drinking at such a young age is something I won't allow." Unaware that Gallerian sneaked the bottle, poured himself a glass of sake, and gulped it down.

"Thank you Kayo." Allen said.

"You know Kayo, I never give my underage harem alcohol until they're eighteen." Sateriasis said.

"Disgusting, yet responsible." Margarita replied.

"*Hic* I-I-I don't see da problem here." Gallerian slurred as he took another gulp before pouring himself another glass. "This sssake is not at all bad *hic*." His face was all flushed.

"Hey! Dad! Stop! Don't drink that!" Nemesis tried taking the bottle, but he snatch it.

"You c-c-can't hafe it! *hic* yer only *hic* a minor!" Gallerian slurred again as Banica sneakily poured some into her glass from his hand.

"I'm physically nineteen here, dumb-ass, we're not in Levianta."

"How did you get drunk that fast? you only took two small glasses?" Sateriasis exclaimed in surprise.

"He's a lightweight drinker, I know it and he knows it, he never goes to drinking socials as a result. I don't even understand why he would choose this time to drink now?" Nemesis said, eating chow mein.

"*Hic* Because *hic* because *hic* because I'm the king of Marlon, that's why *hic*." He took another gulp, unaware that the glass is empty.

"No you aren't." Margarita said, holding her giggles.

"Yes I am! I g-got blue hair! *hic* It's a royal birthright! *hic* Sh-sh-show respect for da king!" He belches, Margarita waves her hand in front of her nose to brush the smell of his breath away.

"That's it." Nemesis got out of her seat and went to where her father is. "Come on Dummy, your laying down until you sober up." Nemesis dragged him out of his chair by the collar of his shirt.

"Eh!?" He exclaimed as he was dragged out of the room.

"Aww, but he was hilarious." Sateriasis sighed.

"Totally. *hic*" Banica said with a flushed face while holding the now empty sake bottle, "And Galley was right, this sake is delicious!...hurk." Just then Banica stood up..."BUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!" Banica let out a huge burp that even cracked the empty sake bottle she was holding. "Excuse me *Hic*." She left everyone completely stunned by her loud belch.

~One hour later, In the Living Room~

Gallerian was laying on the couch next to Nemesis while wearing an ice pack on his head, he has just sobered up from the sake he consumed.

"Uuuuuugh, my head." He groaned. "I'm never drinking again."

"Serves you right, you light weight." Nemesis said while reading a book. "Can you remember?"

"I got to the table...Sateriasis became a masochist...I started eating...I saw sake...and that's it."

She patted his head. "Close enough."

"Whatev-...Uh...Ne-Nemesis, bucket! Hurk! Now!" Nemesis put her book face down so she won't lose her place, grabbed a bucket, and gave it to her Father, Gallerian ran to another room and did his business there. "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH!" After a minute or two, Gallerian sluggishly came back through the door, Nemesis cringed from what she heard as Gallerian laid back down, "Do you have a mint?"

"No, get it yourself, I'm reading." She continued reading, unaware of her father glaring, he kicked her book out of her hand, losing her place that she's reading. Enraged by this outcome, she tackled her father and the two started brawling again, Allen happened to have stood by the door for a bit now.

"Ugh, I swear to Levia these two are gonna make me wish I was under the guillotine right now." Allen groaned in frustration while rubbing his eyes with his fingers, as if having a headache. "How can I stop them?"

"Watch this." Riliane said, she walked in and yelled: "HEY! STOP THIS TOMFOOLERY OR I'LL HAVE YOU BOTH BEHEADED!" In a loud, deep, masculine voice, it scared the two silent, they sat back on the couch as quick as a flash.

"Thanks, Sister."

"No problem."

"Look you two, I'm getting very annoyed by you two bickering like a pair of siblings."

"SHE/HE STARTED IT!" They pointed at each other.

"SHUT UP! I have had it with you two acting like this everyday 24/7 so you left no choice but to use "this" method until you two learn how to get along."

"Oh, and what's that boy?" Gallerian sneered.

click

"EH!?" in a blink of an eye, Allen used a pair of long handcuffs on them and cuffed Nemesis's right hand with Gallerian's left.

"Starting now, you two are gonna wear these cuffs until you guys learn how to love each other like a real father and daughter should! NOW STAY THAT WAY!" Allen stormed off up stairs, they can hear the door slam shut. The two were silent over what just occurred.

"...It's gonna be awkward to use the restroom eh?" Riliane said, popping from behind the couch.

"Your not helping kid." Nemesis said pulling her chains.

"This is just great, I'm stuck with a fascist hussy." Gallerian said as he pulled back.

"I was eradicating hell, you judicial mutt!" She pulled back.

"By blowing up the world? Oh how heroic." He sarcastically replied and pulled.

"I was stuck with Be-Beelzebub wh-who annoyed the heck outta me *hic* how d-do you think I feel? *hic*" Banica slurred.

"No one asked you." Nemesis sneered, Banica raspberries her. "Ugh! This is too much for me, I'm going outside." She walked up to the door, but stopped when she felt a tugged, her Father was still sitting down. "Oh right.' She tried pulling him but he wouldn't budge. "DAAAAD!"

"I'm not going anywhere." They began tugging on the chain.

"I wanna walk!" She pulled.

"And I wanna lay here!" He pulled back.

"I don't think the chain thing is working out at all." Margarita said while the two bicker.

"Me too." Kayo said as she watches them.

"Hey look, Michelle!" Nemesis said pointing.

"Michelle!?" He exclaimed excitedly but was then pulled to the ground.

"I win."

"You cheated!"

"Don't care, I'm walking." She began to drag him the handcuff outside.

"You're right, this isn't working out." Kayo said.

~Later, outside the flat~

Nemesis was taking a walk outside the flat with Gallerian getting dragged from behind, the sky is already popping stars above them despite being in a box, and the keyhole in the sky is now colored white. Nemesis was then held back. "Hm? Huh?" Gallerian was laying face down on the ground, much to her surprise.

"Nemesis, we've been out for a half-hour, and my feet are getting tired." He whined while laying down.

"I'm getting fresh air, isn't that the Elphegortian dream?"

"NemesiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!" He growled.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine." She lightly kicked him to get up. "Stupid bastard ruining my evening walk."

"WHAT!?"

"Did I stutter? You heard what I said."

"Whatever."

~In the bedroom~

Nemesis sighed irritably while sitting next to Gallerian's bed. Gallerian was laying on his bed counting the money he was able to save, normally this was to make him smile but now he just wasn't in the spirit, he put his money away the safe and laid down on his side. Nemesis who had been sitting next to him took notice.

"You haven't even finished counting your money." For once, she sounded concerned despite her father's avarice.

"I just don't feel like it now." He sighed.

"That's new, normally you keep yourself occupied through money."

"I know, but i'm just...in a bad mood..."

"Bad mood? Is it because of what happened today at that Academy?" She asked him. Gallerian didn't say a thing, but instead began shivering. After a long silence, he got up and began walking out of the room. "What are you doing?" She was then tugged from the handcuffs that binds them.

"There's three cartons of Ice Cream and a bottle of Yatski Lopera wine I saw earlier." He pulls her up by the arm.

"Oof! Don't drink Dad, you're a lightweight."

"I don't care." He goes out of the room with Nemesis being dragged behind.

~45 minutes later~

Gallerian was knocked out, snoring loudly, and hugging the now empty bowl of ice cream with a spoon in hand, there was some residue of wine in the bowl, indicating that he has poured wine into the bowl of ice cream, sitting on the table are three half empty cartons of Ice Cream consisting of Mint Chocolate, Strawberry, and Rocky Road. His face was flushed from the alcohol and the area around his lips was covered in Ice cream. Nemesis was just sitting there, bored, and her face slightly red, possibly from drinking the wine her Father consumed. Just then, Riliane walked by and found the two sinners like this, she was stunned by the state Gallerian was in.

"Don't ask, this is what I'm currently dealing with at the moment." Nemesis said, Riliane quietly nodded and walked out of the room backwards, Nemesis sighed as she looked at the half empty bottle of Yatski Lopera wine. She drank straight from the bottle and shivered due to it's strong flavor of both the sweetness from the Trauben Fruit and the bitterness of the alcohol.

but then felt like the wine has taken a toll on her. She slapped the back of her Father's head. "Dad!"

"Huh?" Gallerian sluggishly got up.

"I'm going to the bathroom, now come on!" She pulled him up and dragged him out with her, but before Gallerian grabbed a carton of Rocky Road Ice Cream.

~Upstairs~

Gallerian was sitting on the floor in front of the door, still eating the Rocky Road he grabbed earlier.

"H-h-h-how long d-does it take for you to use the restwooom? NOM." He slurred.

"I'll be out in a minute!"

"Are y-you on your p-period again?"

"Shut up!"

"I'm jus' asking NOM." Soon enough Nemesis opened the door, causing Gallerian to fall backwards. "OOF!"

"Heh heh heh." She walks over him and drags him, leaving the Rocky Road behind.

"My Rocky Roooooooad." He pathetically groaned.

~Back in the Living Room~

"Three letter word! guess what I am!" Margarita said as she starts making weird poses.

"Ummm a rat!" Kayo said.

"A dinosaur! ow." Banica exclaimed, she seemed to have suffered a hangover from the sake.

"That's eight letters, it doesn't count." Sateriasis said. "A cat? is it a cat?"

"A dog!." Riliane said, Margarita pointed at the princess while touching her own nose, indicating that she won a point. "I'm good at charades." Riliane said with pride.

"My turn, Nemesis said." She got up, but she couldn't move with Gallerian sitting down eating a carton of Mint Chocolate ice cream and drinking more wine. "Get your ass up! I can't play if you sit."

"Do not want."

"Fine." She stood there next to Gallerian. "Ok, six letter word." She does her poses.

"A-a-re yer stupid? th-th-that has six letters." Gallerian snorted, but then let out a high-pitched squeal when Nemesis kicked his "little friend" hard, falling to the ground as a result.

"Ooooooh, that's gonna hurt." Banica said.

"Karma for today." Sateriasis sassed.

"Now you ruined it Dad, I'm ou-OOF...Dammit, keep forgetting about the cuffs." She watched as her dad recovers from the blow and tries standing up, he was having a hard time standing straight due to the alcohol.

"Like I said before: the handcuffs was not a good idea, it just makes it worse for the both of you." Margarita said. "I don't see how it supposed to make you bond if you two don't want to see eye to eye."

"Maybe I'll get that little brat to talk." Sateriasis suggested.

"Nooo no you've done enough trouble for one day Sati, it's my turn now." Riliane said standing. "Besides he's my brother, I'll get him." She marched upstairs.

"Good because Dad's being a whiny butthead doing nothing but whining, sleeping, drinking, and eating his feelings non-stop for the past hour, He even can't count his money." Nemesis said while lightly kicking her father's father's shin.

"Stop it." He moved away, but then he covered his mouth, indicating that he's gonna vomit again. "HURK!" He stumbled out of the room with Nemesis close behind.

"Oh god no no no no no NO NOOO!" Nemesis started to panic as she doesn't want to see her father vomit.

"BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGH!"

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!"

"Oh heavens." Sateriasis said in both disgust and concern, the other sinners sat there extremely worried. Gallerian and Nemesis then returned to the living room, with Gallerian still feeling sick while Nemesis had a look of horror on her face, Gallerian sat on the couch. Banica gave him a bottle of water and he took it willingly.

"Are you ok, Gallerian-San?" Kayo asked as she stitched someone's pants.

"...Am I ok?" His speech seems to have straightened up a little. "No, I am not ok. Me and the word "ok" had parted ways a long time ago, Sudou. I am in a bloody state of misery."

"Well that doesn't seem like the Gallerian we know." Gallerian then had let out a sigh, it had shown signs of irritation. Soon enough, he snapped.

"HE'S DEAD THAT'S WHY!" Gallerian yelled suddenly throwing a bottle of water at her.

"Whoa!" She dodged.

"Gallerian!" Margarita yelled at him irritably."

"SHUT IT, BLANKENHEIM! HE'S ****ING DEAD! HE'S BEEN BURNED TO DEATH IN HIS ****ING SLEEP!"

"Do you kissed your mother with that mouth?" Sateriasis said in disgust over the use of a filthy curse word and how he's acting around the girls.

"Yeah, Galley! And you should be ashamed of yourself acting this way in front of these two."

"HA! EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, MS. "CANNIBALIZE-YOUR-BOYFRIEND"!" Now he's gone too far.

"How dare you menti-" Banica was gonna say something but was stopped by Sateriasis, he was shaking his head at her to not start with him.

"Forget it, dear. It's the alcohol talking." Sateriasis said. Just then Riliane arrived down stairs.

"Well? What did Allen say?" Nemesis asked, finally having enough of her Father's drunken rage.

"Iiiiiiii couldn't get him to talk." Riliane said, sheepishly."

"Why?" Kayo asked.

"He's not in his room, he's not even home."

Hearing this, it was the last straw for Nemesis, she clenched her fist and yelled: "THAT'S JUST GREAT! NOW THE KID LEFT US BECAUSE YOU WERE BEING A PRICK, DAD!"

"ME? YOU'RE THE WITCH WHO KILLED MY WIFE AND HANDICAPPED MY DAUGHTER!"

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT!?"

"WHY DON'T YOU BOTH SHUT UP!" Riliane yelled. "Your senseless bickering is what drove my brother off, you stupid idiots! Now come here!" She then grabbed the two by the ears and starts dragging them off into the closet.

"Owowowowowowowowowowow!" They both exclaimed.

Riliane threw them in the closet and locked the door, "You may come out when you two learn to shut your big mouths!" She looked at the other four. "You wanna join them?" they shook their heads in fear and left.

~In the Closet~

They're sitting on the floor in the closet. "Now this is just perfect! Allen's gone, Riliane's tormenting us, and now I'm stuck with a bastard like you!"

"Would you shut up?"

"What about you?" The two began strangling each other's throats in an attempt to choke the other to death, however it was not meant to be, for they slowly began to stop upon realizing that they're just spirits in the afterlife, so killing each other is now off limits to them. They let go of each other and began taking in some air, they turned around and sat back to back from one another. "Ass hat." Nemesis sighed in irritation.

"Bitch." Gallerian followed the same suit. They stayed silent, not looking at each other in the eye.

~One Hour Later~

Nemesis was beginning to feel tired, she kept trying to keep her eyes open until she finally nodded off to sleep, after a long while however..."Uuuuuuugh, my heaaad." She woke back up when she heard her father groaning, Nemesis looked back and saw Gallerian rubbing his temples with his fingers, his hangover has now taken it's toll on him. After a few minutes of him groaning, she finally spoke.

"You've been acting weird today ever since we got back from Capriccio Academy, binge eating and drinking, oversleeping, lashing out, and you stopped counting your money. Is something troubling you?" She asked.

Gallerian hanged his head low before answering "...Yes."

"Oh?"

"But I don't wanna talk about it."

"Dad, just tell me."

"Fine...*sighs* it's your Mother."

"All that over her?" She said.

"Yeah, for years we've worked together as partners of the courthouse, and later in search of the vessels of sins. Usually we fought physically and verbally but nevertheless she was one of the only friends I have...I loved her, though I had considered her as just a friend despite her pleas of wanting to settle down with her after I can get Michelle to walk again." He sounded like he was gonna laugh, but then he started to sound melancholy,"...However, during the Civil war, she left me for dead along with the Vessels of sins, then you murdered me. I felt betrayed and used...and learning that your Mother, Ma, was an HER of all things was the last straw for me. The way I am now was all because of her...Now all I want is to make amends with my family after what I've done behind the scenes."

"Heh, That makes sense." She snorted, "Can't say I blame you for being manipulated by a witch like her because I felt the same way...no, I've experienced it in a similar fashion, now we're even."

"Eh?"

"You may not like what you'll hear if I told you, Dad."

"Hey, you're the one who got me to talk, now's not the time for being a hypocrite."

"Fiiiine...she and I were pretty close y'see? I was happy being taken under her wing since the day I was born...until she left me...locked up in our house to go insane by Hansel and Gretel."

"...WHAT!?"

"Ah, so she hasn't told you? Wanting to keep her "favorite toy" without spilling the beans about me...I don't remember the full detail on why she abandoned me, but one thing's for sure is that she had left me for dead, I became emotionally broken, I've forgotten what smiles or tears were like...just wrath...I began to delude myself that she was gone because she was a busy playwright, but that was false..." Gallerian was completely shocked by this revelation, he had hated Nemesis for what she did to his family and killing him, he knew Ma can be a witch at times, and he was known to be uncaring to anyone's well being no matter the crime, age, race, and sex. Just as long as he has his money...but after discovering what Ma did to him and Nemesis? That can never be forgiven, especially if it leads to Nemesis going on a berserk rampage and destroying the world. Nemesis started to feel him shiver and hear him sniffle, she turned and saw that he was trying to hold back his sobs. "Come on, don't cry on me."

"...That traitor."

"You were greedy from the start."

"I know...but that's not it...*sniff*...All my life...*sobs* I THOUGHT I WAS HAPPY WITH WHAT I'VE GOT! AND EVERYONE WHO WAS CALLED "MY FRIEND" BETRAYS ME FOR THEIR SELFISH GAIN!" He screamed as tears streamed out.

"YOU'RE NO BETTER EITHER DAD!" Nemesis yelled at his face. "YOU USED ME AND THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU JUST TO GET RID OF YOUR ENEMIES AND TO GET THOSE STUPID VESSELS!, INCLUDING MY LOVER OF ALL PEOPLE! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL!?...But you never cared." Gallerian covered his eyes as she silently watched him sobbing, a minute or so, she can't help but hug him tight, something she should've done for a long time ever since they met, even if he's corrupted, he hugged her back as he cried on her shoulder...why he's letting it all out now was probably from the wine, but she can't help but feel sorry for him nevertheless, Nemesis felt a tear rolling down her own eye. "Just to be clear, Dad: I still won't forgive you for what you done to everyone...nothing changes."

"*Sob* I know..."

"*Sniff*" They heard someone sniffing outside the door.

"Who's there?" Nemesis asked, the person who unlocked the door was Allen Avadonia himself. "You?"

"*Sniff*...My apologies for what I did earlier, I was just frustrated with you two constantly bickering that I had to take a small leave of absence, I returned because I realized the handcuffs doesn't work on anyone like I thought it would."

"*Sniffed* Then why are you crying?" Gallerian asked wiping his tears.

"You laugh if I told you Judge, so don't push it." He was rubbing his eyes.

"...You listened to us didn't you?" Nemesis asked.

"...Yeah, it's a weakness of mine from childhood."

"Fair enough." They existed the closet and Allen began to unlock the handcuffs, after doing so Margarita gave Nemesis a huge hug to make her feel better.

"I'm sorry...for what I said earlier...Kayo, Margarita, Banica." Gallerian apologized to the women he insulted earlier, the didn't say a thing, but instead smiled as a form of forgiveness. Sateriasis gave Gallerian a gentle pat on the back.

"Well everyone, it's been a long and very stressful day, so we might as well get some sleep, hopefully we'll all feel better in the morning." Allen said while wiping his eyes.

"Good idea." Kayo said. They all headed upstairs to get ready for bed, except for Margarita who cannot sleep and stays in the living room, she turned off the main light in the living room. Hopefully their first day in the box will be all but a forgotten memory.

END CHAPTER

[bronwyngreenauthor]

I’m lucky enough to tons of amazing people in my corner when it comes to the business side of writing. One of those people is my friend and cover artist, Kris Norris. Se does amazing things with cover art and she basically has the patience of a saint when it comes to dealing with me.

I’m the worst. The absolute worst.

I get an idea for cover art, and I love it. And she makes it. And then I squint at it and think of all the reasons it’s not really right. Reasons that St. Norris has been subtly hinting at for days, but she indulges me anyway. Why? Because for some reason, she loves me. And also she’s a glutton for punishment.

So, I found this stock art for my upcoming release, Rewritten, and fell in love with the idea of it. When the story begins, Angus and Eliza’s relationship is a bit combative. Here, this is the blurb–it explains things pretty well.

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…  

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

So, St. Norris took my annoying stock photo (inevitably, I always like a landscape orientation when a portrait orientation would work better) and made this fantastic cover that I really adored. I loved the torn paper, the partially erased writing, the couple crabbily sitting back to back. I thought it was the cutest.

And it is the cutest. However, at best, it looks like a straight contemporary romance. It doesn’t look like an erotic romance and definitely not an erotic romance with BDSM elements.

That usually leads me to texting her the phrase: Hey, Norris…please don’t hate me, but…

So after some discussion and agreement that it looked a little too sweet and looooooooooots of scrounging for cover models, St. Norris came up with this.

Definitely more of a steamy romance look while still keeping the ripped paper/erased words thing that I loved so much. I loved it–though part of me was still stuck on the cutesy cover. See? The worst.

Jess Jarman (also a saint, frankly) and I share the Bound series. And we love it. It’s so much fun to write a series with one of your BFFs. Sometimes, we even borrow each other’s characters. For instance, one of her upcoming characters, Kit Sterling, puts in a brief appearance in Rewritten. It’s  both awesome and nerve-wracking to write someone else’s character (probably why I don’t write fan fic) but I know that she’ll tweak whatever doesn’t work for her. And I’ll do the same when she’s got one of mine.

Anyway, Jess and I were talking, and several people had mentioned to that we might want to consider rebranding the whole series. Freshen it up a bit. So, we hemmed and hawed and eventually I said: Hey, Norris…please don’t hate me, but…

And Norris, amazing woman that she is, rebranded our whole series. Look at all of our new pretties!

#gallery-0-6 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-6 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-6 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-6 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

And here’s Jess’ upcoming release, Safeword Protected!

And here’s the final for Rewritten!  I absolutely love it, and it totally fits the book!  (I promise, Norris, I won’t change my mind again!)

And you can pre-order it now at:

Amazon  * B&N  * iBooks  *  Kobo

The Evolution of Cover Art for Rewritten: Or Why I Am the Literal Worst I'm lucky enough to tons of amazing people in my corner when it comes to the business side of writing.

[byolsen]

‘Tis the season to overdo it with stuffing, turkey, buttery rolls, and pie, pie, and more pie. With all the office parties, cookie swaps, and holiday potlucks (just us?) this time of year, it’s especially hard to avoid overeating. But really, stuffing yourself rotten isn’t limited to the holidays. Sometimes that late-night frozen pizza somehow becomes single-serving with gut-busting repercussions. Hey, it happens to the best of us. But the real problem is usually what happens after—in our body and our mind. Are you filled with regret, dejectedly pondering starting a juice cleanse? Or do you feel the urge to go for broke, double down, and top it all off with a big bowl of froyo (or maybe a big bowl of Reese’s, mochi, Captain Crunch, and rainbow sprinkles)? Do you wallow in the damage for hours or even days? Get Greatist on Facebook Messenger And physically, do you fall into a food coma? Get that feeling like your food has turned to concrete in your abdomen and/or suffer from hours of nausea and discomfort? Don't fret. Sometimes reframing the situation and having an action plan is all you need to rebound ASAP. Emotionally: Reframe the Sitch It can be easy, post-gluttony, to beat yourself up. Things like “no self-control,“ "lazy," and “gross” can get thrown around. Maybe you run five miles and end up making yourself sick. Or swear off eating for an entire day. It's super easy to treat your body to all types of abuse post-gorgefest, but here's where taking a step outside yourself is critical. As the custodian for your body, you’re responsible for its care—just like you’d be responsible for a child that you’re babysitting. Imagine finding this kid knee-deep in candy bar wrappers, halfway into an all-out candy binge. Caught red-handed, this kid looks up at you, terrified, ashamed, awaiting punishment. What do you do? Do you yell insults at the child? March him or her over to the treadmill to run off every last calorie? Of course not. You're not Mommie Dearest. With that in mind, let any name calling and punishment stop. You will treat yourself with the same compassion you would treat this child. Why is this helpful? In his book The Marshmallow Test, psychologist and Columbia professor Walter Mischel describes how emotional situations like this can stay in a heated place, which could lead to more self-destructive or self-punishing behavior. To counter that, it helps to cool your distress by “self distancing” and entering into “cognitive reappraisal." In other words, viewing yourself from a distance or as another (e.g. a child) helps engage a cool, rational reaction where you can regroup and rebound. So what should you do to regroup? We're glad you asked... Physically: Your Immediate Action Plan Let's handle the physical symptoms for bloating and food coma first. Don’t: Let the weight of your food baby take you down for the count (or straight to the couch). Lying down can give you heartburn and other gastro issues. It can even aggravate respiratory issues for people with asthma. Do: Get moving. Light exercise is the best thing you can do to help your body bounce back. Operative word: light. Jogging around the block might not be smart, thanks to the high barf factor, but taking a walk can do a world of good. Not only does it speed up digestion, it’ll also even out your blood sugar and clear glucose out of your bloodstream. Another idea is light yoga. Certain twisting poses have been known to assist and alleviate digestive woes. Don’t: Drink alcohol or coffee. Knocking back a boozy “digestif” drink after a calorie rager is a common practice for many, but they don’t actually assist with digestion. In fact, alcohol can pump the breaks on your body’s digestive process. Coffee may swing you back up from a food slump with a jolt of caffeine, but it also doesn’t do any good for digestion. Do: Drink water, seltzer, or teas. It might seem counterintuitive to drink water when your belly is full to bursting, but H2O helps move along digestion. It can also battle sodium and carb bloat, and it’s a preemptive strike against any post-gluttony constipation. You can also try seltzer, which is proven to relieve indigestion. Herbal teas with ginger, peppermint, and fennel have been shown to ease that I’m-so-stuffed feeling. In short, keep these liquids coming. Looking Ahead: Your Back-in-the-Game Action Plan OK, you’ve got your head on straight and you’ve forgiven this entirely human moment of overdoing it. And after hitting the two W’s (water and walking) and letting a few hours lapse, your overstretched gut feels like it's returned to its normal size. Now what can you do to move forward from this food bender beyond the short-term? Start with this rebound checklist: 1. Plan your next healthy meal Like we said before, it’s easy to rebound from a gluttonous moment and overreact by shunning food. But don’t let the pendulum swing to the other extreme. Ground yourself with a healthy meal that fits right in with your life pre-bender. Keep in mind, skipping meals can trigger another trip to Taco Town. Even if you’re not hungry, simply planning your next meal is a powerful act of self-care that can remind you that food is not public enemy No. 1. 2. Plan your next workout Yes, you don’t want to go for a jog right after you did a faceplant into your mom’s pumpkin pie, but scheduling your next workout is also a strong reminder that after this gluttonous interlude, you’re getting back to your normal fitness routine. It’s also a great affirmation of how you see yourself: You are not defined by this food bender. For example, you could say, “I am not only the person who ate all the pumpkin pie. I am also a runner. A runner that just ate lots of pie. But a runner nonetheless.“ 3. Get some perspective The world is bigger than a bag of chips (or several bags). And this moment of indulgence is but a blip on the radar of life. Tune in to larger issues: Read a newspaper, a book, or even your old journals. There are bigger things to occupy your mind than this moment. 4. Call a friend or hug it out Sometimes food benders come from a place of loneliness or discomfort. If you’ve realized your spree was triggered by these feelings, don’t ignore them just because “the damage is done.” Reach out to friends, hug it out, and get the companionship you need. Feed this emotional hunger. Likewise if you look back on a holiday or family celebration and realize you were stress-eating through it, give yourself the tools you need to de-stress and unpack some of that. And of course if you spot a reoccurring pattern with overeating, getting professional help from a therapist or counselor can be incredibly helpful. The Takeaway Admit that overdoing it on food is the human condition. We all have our moments. How could we not, in a world where cronuts exist? As a popular inspirational quote says, "You are not defined by your mistakes, but your reaction." Or as a wise kitten once said, "Hang in there!" Getting back on that healthy-eating horse is as easy as practicing a little self-care.