#i felt the urge to draw a long haired man in a bun then i remembered aph lithuania exists

[crepegosette]

man in bun (and polish man)

[empressofthesunwriter]

The Fox and the Sun

Demon and Demon Slayer in one? A paradox, but you were the living proof. For two good centuries, you served the Demon Slayer Corps as the Fox-Hashira, only in your mind your revenge against the Demon King, who had made you a demon. It took a kind boy with the sun in his soul to remind yourself of your humanity. Fox-Demon!ReaderXTanjiro Kamado

I always forget to tell, but I made a drawing of how I image the reader aka. Inari, of course in the end you decide what to look like, but I just wanted to give you an idea.

Here is the link: https://www.deviantart.com/empressofthesun/art/Reader-The-Fox-Hashira-971290363

Chapter 3: Foxes and Butterflies

One good thing about living as long as you did, was that you collected a lot of money in your time as Demon Slayer.

80 years ago you bought this beautiful Mansion with a big garden. It was located in the same neighborhood as the Butterfly Mansion.

Humming a little melody under your breath you worked in your grand and beautiful garden. Butterflies and bees fly around, and birds chirping their songs.

It was an oasis of serenity.

You put the sunflowers in the basket beside you and then stood up. Cracking you spin, letting out a relaxed breath.

You were grateful for any day in the sun you could spend. Since you got immunity from it your cursed existence as a demon was more tolerable.

You could pretend more that you were human. Forgotten for a while all the gruesome things you have done in your long life.

Yet you could never truly forget.

The hunger for flesh and blood in you was strong.

You put a hand on your stomach and picked up your basket full of sunflowers.

Time to go over to the Butterfly Mansion and get your weekly blood supply from Shinobu.

Still humming you enter your mansion, going to your bedroom. You needed to change your dirty work kimono into something more presentable.

You didn’t know why…but you had the urge to look extra pretty today.

It was totally not because you could meet Tanjiro in the Butterfly Mansion and wanted to make a good impression on him.

No.

Perish that thought.

Anyway, you took a bath, styled your hair into an elaborate bun with a pretty cherry blossom hairclip, and put your white kimono with cherry blossoms and red Obi on.

When you also sprayed some perfume on yourself, you had to admit you were going beyond, what one did, when one visited a friend.

You looked ready for a date.

You made a grimace in the mirror.

Okay…maybe you wanted to impress Tanjiro. The boy hadn’t left your thoughts or more his eyes, these pretty red orbs, haunted you any waking hour.

This was not good.

You couldn’t start something with a human.

Casual flings were more your style, but this somehow, strangely felt more powerful.

You shook your head and took your basket of sunflowers.

Enough.

You just wanted to look pretty.

Nothing more.

And if Tanjiro blushed seeing you and got shy, you would eat it up but do nothing about it.

With that in mind, you made your way to Butterfly Mansion. You knocked and after a few seconds, Shinubo herself opened the door.

“Inari-Chan, good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon, Shinobu-Chan! May I enter?”

“Of course, of course, here for your blood supply.”

You nodded.

Shinobu smiled and lead you to her Examination Room/Office. There she gave you in another basket your blood bags, while you handed her one of your sunflowers.

This made your friend happy and she promised to find a vase as soon as possible.

You made a bit of small talk till Shinobu rightfully pointed out: “Ara, Ara, Inari-Chan, you look ready to go on a date who is the lucky man? Or woman?”

“I just felt like dressing up.”, you mumbled fighting your blush. “How are the Kamado Siblings?”

You didn’t like the knowing glint in the Insect Hashira’s eyes.

“Oh Tanjiro already started rehabilitation training and Nezuko sleeps most times of the day. Their friends Agatsuma Zenitsu and Hashibira Inosuke are healing as well and I’m sure Inosuke can join soon Tanjiro.”

“Oh, that’s good. Do you mind, if I look after Nezuko for a second and maybe greet the girls?”

Of course, this was okay and Shinobu lead you to Nezuko’s room before she return to her office with a cheeky wink in your direction. You stuck out your tongue at her.

Little brat!

You knocked at the door, calling out to Nezuko that you would be coming in. The room was dark, but you could see clearly.

Night Vision was only one of the perks of being practically half-fox.

Nezuko Box stand in the middle of the room, slowly it opened and the younger demon picked out her head, making a cute sound.

“Hello Nezuko-Chan.”, you cooed, stepping closer to her. “It’s me, Inari. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

She was now fully out of the box. Cute, she was as tall as a child and made grappy hands in your direction.

You had more of a lifetime experience with babies, toddlers, and children to know what she wanted.

So you picked her up and twirled her around.

Her pretty laugh could warm even the coldest heart, you were sure.

“All good with you baby girl?”

Nezuko made an agreeing sound, hugging your neck.

“The girls treat you nice?”

You stopped spinning and sat down with her on the bed. She nodded cutely.

“Ah, that’s good. Your brother is okay too?”

She made an adorable coo noise in agreement.

Aww, you could just eat her up. Precious baby girl.

You kissed her forehead, which made her giggle. Then you hugged her closer to yourself and swayed back and forth.

Nezuko cooed again, snuggling closer to you and seeming to enjoy greatly the affection you gave her.

You started to tell her random things, while she answered back in coo or giggles.

You don’t know how much time passed, just sitting with her, telling her nothing and all, but you found yourself laying with her on the bed, stroking her hair. Nezuko was nodding off and with a yawn, you decide to take a quick nap as well.

It was comforting to be in her presence.

The sun warmed your back as you climbed up the mountain. Under your snowboots, the snow made a satisfied crunching noise.

Your love told you, that he would come to visit you in the village, yet it burned terribly been away from him.

You couldn’t wait till you finally would be married.

You reached the small hut, his family called their home, greeting warmly your future in-laws, as his mother told you, he was off chopping firewood.

You thanked her, walking up to your beloved.

His pretty dark red hair shone in the sunlight.

Been cheeky, you put your hands on his eyes and asked who it was.

You heard him laugh, pretending to think, till he said your name.

For this, you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He turned around and you were lost in his otherwordly red eyes.

He smiled that soft smile that only was reserved for you, hugging you to himself.

A happy sign left you.

You could stay forever like this…

“Inari-Sama?”

Someone called you.

Sleepy you opened your eyes, yawing loudly.

Huh, what a strange dream you had. You wonder what that meant.

“Inari-Sama, is anything all right with you?”

Finally, you were awake enough to understand what was going on.

You were in Nezuko’s room in the Butterfly Mansion. The younger demon gripping your kimono, still asleep beside you in the bed and Tanjiro was standing beside it.

…Tanjiro?!

You couldn’t help but blush, careful to not disturb Nezuko, you sat up to greet him.

“Oh hello Tanjiro-Kun, you are finished with your rehabilitation training that is good.”

“Yes, I wanted to see after Nezuko. I’m surprised but happy to see you Inari-Sama.”, he told you shyly. Gosh, he was adorable! “I couldn’t thank you for how you stood up for us before the other Hashira and that you protected Nezuko. Thank you.”

He bowed, and you wave it away, saying it was nothing and to please drop the Sama. You were fine with Inari.

The smile Tanjiro gave you should be illegal.

To not turn into a puddle of goo under his feet, you stroked Nezuko’s beautiful hair. The younger demon cooed in her sleep.

“It makes me happy, seeing Nezuko like this. She likes you very much Inari-San.”, told you Tanjiro, while he stroked his sister’s cheek.

“I like her very much too…it’s nice to have met another good demon like me. You can imagine my existence is really lonely.”, you admitted, fixing your bun.

So much to look ready for a date. Your hair was a catastrophe.

Tanjiro gave you such a heartful look, that you swore your heart stood still for a second. It was like he understood you.

“I’m sorry, Inari-San, but I’m also happy that you are here. I think it does Nezuko good having around another good demon.”

“Mmh, yeah.”

You looked at each other shyly with blushing cheeks.

Suddenly Nezuko sat up and would have hit your chin if you didn’t dodge.

“Oh, you are awake Nezuko!”, said Tanjiro happy.

His sister made now grappy hands at him and he took her in his arms.

Your heart was a pool of goo, seeing the two siblings interact with each other.

The older brother told his sister about his day, while she made cute noise in understanding.

You wished you had a camera to immortalize this sweet moment forever.

Sadly it was probably time to go for you. You still wanted to check on the girls.

So you stand up, fixing your kimono.

“I will leave you now.”, you told the Kamado siblings. Both looked devasted. “I still haven’t checked up on Kanao, Aoi, and the little girls. I didn’t mean to fall asleep with Nezuko.”

“Oh, if you must…It was nice seeing you Inari-San.”

Nezuko made something like a wail, reaching her hands out to you. You took her from Tanjiro’s arms, hugging her and kissing her chubby cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Kit, I will visit soon. Be a good sister for your brother.”

The younger demon cooed in agreement, as you put her down on the floor.

You took your basket and gave her a sunflower.

“This is for you.”

She made a happy sound, hugging the flower to herself.

“You are really kind, Inari-San.”

You gave Tanjiro a tiny smile, giving him also a sunflower. He blushed crimson red, staring at it in confusion and then at you.

“A sweet boy like you deserves a flower also.”

Where you flirting?

Probably.

Before you made more of a fool out of yourself you said your goodbye to the Kamado siblings and searched for Kanao, Aoi, and the girls.

Only Nezuko saw how her brother was red like a tomato, touching the sunflower like a precious thing, with a lovestruck smile on his face.

You were back home drinking a blood bag, while you read a book.

You should be sleeping, but the nap you took with Nezuko, had left you wide awake.

Not that you slept a lot.

You slept because you could, not because you needed it.

Your record was five hours per day.

Slurping the blood down, you wonder about the strange dream you had.

You never really dreamed.

And when you did it was a chaotic mess with no sense, yet this dream had been so clear, like a memory.

But you didn’t understand it for the life of you.

The boy you dreamed about, who had looked so much like Tanjiro, yet didn’t at the same time, was a mystery.

You never had seen him in your life.

Or at least you don’t remember it.

It was frustrating to have forgotten so much about your human life! Not for the first time you cursed out the Demon King.

One day, you would make him pay for all he did to you and your family.

Someday soon, hopefully.

You didn’t know if you could make it another century with Muzan still free to do as he pleased.

But maybe with Tanjiro and Nezuko on your side, it was finally time to end him.

Who knows?

You hoped with all your heart that this way you were going….you wouldn’t lose any more beloved people.

Yet you know deep down that it would be impossible. Some people would probably die if they faced Muzan.

You put your book on the night table and then began to pray.

“Goddess Inari, please help and guide us. Protect us in this war that will soon happen. Take my life for the life of my beloved people. Better me than them.”

Next

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empressofthesunwriter

[stuff-and-such-art]

More doodles! Well, more or less doodles. The first one is not a doodle. Ehhhh, whatever, you get what i mean. :)

First: This is how Hamid and Oscar very subtly hint that Zolf needs a haircut and a trim.

Second: I felt the urge to draw a bicep and then woah Azu appeared and Hamid behind her.

Third: Eots fanart! Did you see the comic gang?? That galaxy posted??? 😍😍😍 Also i was rereading and this scene made me laugh. Zolf, you dunce, he was hinting at his backstory!! C’mon man!!

IDs under the cut!

[First ID: A colorful digital drawing with small dark sketchy lines and saturated colors. The image shows Hamid, Oscar, and Zolf sitting on a bed together. Hamid is turned away from them, laughing with tears in his eyes. He appears to be getting off the bed. He is wearing a pink collared shirt and brown pants and his nails are mint colored. He has dark curly hair and brown skin. Oscar is laying down with his upper body rested on Zolf’s chest. His hand are folded on his chest. He has a mischievous grin on his face and is looking towards Hamid. He is also wrapped up in Zolf’s beard with the hair tye below his chin and some strands below his nose. It looks like Zolf’s beard is his beard. Wilde is wearing a mint collared shirt with puffy sleeves and dark gray pants. Zolf is behind Oscar and has his arms raised in a questioning gesture. His brow is furrowed and looks confused and frustrated. His hair is long and shaggy and curling into his face. He is wearing a blue sweater and brown pants with the legs tied and folded. The room is bathed in an orange glow from the window behind Hamid. The bed has blue sheets and white pillows as well as a wooden frame.

The text reads:

Zolf: Why are you both-

Oscar: How do I look Hamid? Handsome?

Zolf: STOP.

Hamid: H-Hold on, let me get a mirror.

Zolf: DON’T YOU DARE. ID end]

[Second ID: Same description as the first image but without text. ID end]

[Third ID: A colorful digital drawing with thick dark lines and blocky saturated colors. Azu is in front and has dark short curled hair and brown skin. Azu is standing with her left arm curled showing off her muscles. Her other arm is resting above her waist. She has her eyes closed and is smiling bashfully. She is wearing a pink dress with a yellow sash. Behind her, Hamid is clapping. He is leaning towards her and has his eyes closed in excitement. He has dark hair and brown skin. He is wearing a purple blazer with a pink vest and a white collared shirt. His golden wings are unfurled behind him. ID end]

[Fourth ID: A gray, black, and white comic with sketchy lines and three small panels. Hamid and Zolf are sitting in a living room with a small coffee table in front of them. Zolf is sitting on an armchair with a scone and is looking towards hamid. He has long wavy hair with some of it up in a bun. Hamid is sitting on a couch. He has a collared shirt, trousers, and a vest on. He also has pointed ears and curled hair. He looks nervous, and is smiling but looking away from Zolf. His blazer is hanging on the corner of the couch. The text for this panel reads: "Yes, you said that before, I- I think I get it now!", Hamid said, pleased. Zolf doubted it, "...Kind of!", there it was, "Might need to start taking notes. Though I was never much good at that", he said, and brushed his own comment off with a short laugh.”

The second panel shows Zolf from the front his eyes are narrowed and he stares blankly at Hamid. The background is darker. The text reads: > Roll Sense Motive > Critical Fail!”

The third panel shows Zolf from the front again. The background is lighter and he is leaned back with his eyes closed and face relaxed. His mouth is open wide and he is throwing a scone into his mouth. The text reads: “Yeah, note-taking sucked. Zolf took another scone.”  ID end]

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.

[heynikkiyousofine]

Fate’s Arrangement  for @eowyns💕

Chapter 2

Kagome carefully brushed past a group of women as she headed into the small, but lively town, the hood on her cloak shielding her eyes. She had spent the whole morning walking, only stopping for a quick break to get some water at a spring and to eat an apple. As she neared a small tavern in the center of town, she could hear boisterous voices coming from inside. While she wanted to avoid the crowds, her loudly growling stomach could not be ignored.

Cheeks flushed, she glanced around her to make sure no one had heard her and breathed a sigh of relief when she was completely ignored. Pushing the swinging doors in, she stepped inside, a small child-like voice catching her attention.

“Hey! Give me that back!” a redheaded fox demon glared angrily at someone she couldn’t see. Not wanting to draw any attention to herself, she strode towards the barmaid, asking the woman for a hot meal and some water. As the stout older woman filled a steaming bowl of stew, Kagome felt a soft touch rub her backside. Yelping, she whirled around as her hood fell, revealing her hair, to see a man with indigo eyes smiling brightly at her. 

“Why you, you pervert!” She raised her hand, swinging it forward swiftly. Her palm connected with his cheek, and she glared at the stranger. “What gives you any right to put your hands on me?!”

“Oi! Miroku!” A deep voice called from nearby, but Kagome was too furious to even glance his way. She wanted to make sure this man didn’t touch her again. Chest heaving, she shook with rage, her fists shaking at her side. 

The man, who she assumed was Miroku, held his hands up in surrender and began to back away slowly as she glared at him. He wore light brown pants, tucked into boots, a white laced up shirt, and a sword hanging off his hip. If she knew any better, she would say he belonged in her father’s army. Oh no, I hope no one has recognized me! She quickly pulled her hood back up, her anger morphing into anxiety.

“Miroku, stop that shit. One of these days, someone is going to hit ya harder than she just did.” The deep voice came from her left, a large shadow falling across her line of vision. She took a small step back, keeping her eyes to the ground. She heard his soft growl, and a weird sensation began blossoming in her abdomen. Her curiosity got the best of her, so she finally glanced up and locked eyes with this stranger.

Softly gasping, she stared in awe at golden orbs shadowed by dark brows. Mesmerized by the beautiful color, she missed what he asked her. Blinking, she frowned and shook her head.

“You’re not okay then?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blinked again. Mother would be appalled at me right now.

“I asked if you were okay.” he frowned, looking at her oddly.

“Oh! Yes, I’m okay.” She whispered, focusing on the rest of him as he turned back toward his friend. He had fluffy white ears atop his head, which she suddenly had the urge to stroke. While half of his silver hair was wound in a bun at the back of his head, the rest of it hung long down his back. As her eyes traveled down, she could see his muscles through his linen shirt, the color similar to his friend’s. He wore dark brown trousers, tucked into leather black boots, with a rusted sword at his hip as well. She bit her lip, attracted to what she saw.

Clearing her thoughts, the barmaid asked if she needed anything else. She shook her head and quickly turned around, eager to eat her meal. Grabbing her stew and the large mug of water, she stepped around the two men, looking for a table.

“Miss, you can sit with me!” A familiar voice called. Looking for the small fox demon, she smiled softly when he beckoned her over to an empty stool. Careful not to trip over her cloak, she carried her things and plopped down next to the cheerful tyke. “Hi! I’m Shippo, what’s your name?”

Hesitating, she bit her lip. Unsure if she should be giving her real name, given she was still in her father’s land. Before she could give a false one, the two men from earlier sat down across from her, the man with the golden eyes staring at her intently. 

“Shippo, stop inviting strangers to our group.” Miroku sighed. She blushed fiercely, staring down at her bowl, pushing the vegetables around. 

“She’s pretty.” Shippo exclaimed quickly. “Plus, she smells nice.” 

If her cheeks could turn a deeper shade of red, they would. Suddenly, the man with the golden eyes scoffed, rolling his eyes and soon Kagome’s flushed cheeks were from irritation instead of embarrassment.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.” She retorted, glaring at him.

“And ya ain’t gotta sit with us, but the brat asked, so I guess it’s fine.” he rolled his eyes once more and she could feel her patience wearing thin.

“If it’s such a problem with you, I’ll find somewhere else to sit, since it seems you can’t stand my smell!” She stood, her stool scraping against the wood floor. Why is this man being so rude to me now?

“Now, now. Let us calm down and get to know each other. I assure you that my friend here means no harm by his remark.” Miroku began, holding out his hand for her to take. She eyes him warily, her anger dissipating. “I’m Miroku, this is Shippo, and this is Inuyasha.”

Kagome swallowed, taking her seat once more. She could feel them all watching her, waiting for her to give her name. She grabbed her mug and took a large gulp of water, licking her lips as she set the mug down.

“My name is Kagome.” She spoke softly, careful of any other who might be listening in.

“She ain’t lying.” Inuyasha stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. She must have had a confused look on her face because Miroku chuckled. When she turned to look, he smiled warmly.

“Inuyasha here is a hanyou, with a very strong sense of smell.” Miroku chuckled once more, earning a small giggle from Shippo.

“You have a problem with it?” Inuyasha growled, his body tense as he stared at her.

“Not at all.” She stated, every word true. He seemed to relax, his gaze never leaving hers. 

She grabbed her bowl, lifting it to her lips and began to drink her stew. This is delicious! She chewed on a chunk of meat as the men around her began to talk. She focused on eating, eager to get on the road again, when she missed Shippo’s question.

“I’m sorry, what did you ask me?” She smiled softly for the kit, setting down her almost empty bowl.

“Kagome, where are you headed?” he repeated, laughing softly.

“I’m headed towards the ocean, going east.” She was unsure why she was being so honest with these strangers, but felt safe and comfortable in telling them the truth.

“Inuyasha, she should come with us, so she isn't traveling alone!” Shippo gasped, turning his bright emerald eyes to the hanyou. Surprised by the fox’s gesture, she turned her gaze back to him, actually wanting to join them. She knew she had a better chance of staying hidden, plus if anyone was searching for her, she doubted they would look for a group of people.

“Actually,” Miroku began, “that would probably be for the best. A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be traveling alone.” Rolling her eyes, she sighed, already used to his nature. 

“Why are you traveling alone? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Inuyasha asked, peering at her suspiciously.

“I left home on my own accord and decided to see the world.” She spoke confidently. Remembering his keen sense of smell, she told the truth for the most part, only leaving the part out where she was a runaway princess bride. Keeping his gaze, she did her best to look sure of herself.

“Then it’s settled!” Miroku exclaimed. “She’s traveling with us.” 

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”” Inuyasha asked her. She shook her head, drinking the last of the water in her mug. “We usually all stay in one room together, so if you don’t mind then you are welcome to stay with us. It saves money for food and other expenses. Do you have anything of worth in that bag of yours?”

“I have money, if that’s what you’re asking. I also don’t mind rooming with you, as long as Miroku keeps his hands to himself.”

“You have my word.” Miroku promised.

“We leave in the morning.” Inuyasha stated, standing from his stool and walking away. She stared after him, wondering where he was headed to so quickly. Sighing to herself, she ignored the blossoming feelings towards him and began a conversation with Shippo about the rooming situation. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kagome tossed and turned on the low bed. It wasn’t like hers back home and she begrudgingly accepted that this was the price she had to pay if she didn’t want to be trapped forever in a miserable life. Shippo, snoring lightly, was snuggled up beside her, kicking his foot. She smiled to herself as he was obviously dreaming, and pulled him tighter against her stomach. He rolled over, sighing in his sleep, and burrowed closer to her. She pulled the blanket up, tucking him in and closed her eyes, going over the events of the day. So far, she hadn’t seen any guards in the village and she was pretty positive no one really recognized her. She wondered if they would make it out of her father’s land tomorrow or if the border patrol would bring her back to the palace.

“She seems to be in danger, as if someone were after her.” Miroku’s soft voice came from behind the privacy screen. She froze, keeping her breathing even so they wouldn’t realize she was awake.

“I know Miroku, but I doubt she’ll tell us. She was hesitant to give us her own name.” Inuyasha agreed.

“We should keep an eye out. Do you have any idea who she is?” Miroku continued, Kagome straining to hear Inuyasha’s response. When no answer was received, she swallowed, afraid she would be found out. I wonder if I tell them, would they send me back? Or would they let me continue on with them?

“Well my friend, we should get some shut eye. We have an early morning and I want to get on the road soon. I would like to cross the border before sunset tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Kagome rolled over, squeezing Shippo tighter against her chest and swallowed back the lump in her throat. Oh please, don’t let them find out, please, please. After a moment of silent begging, she began to doze off, dreaming vividly about the ocean crashing against the beach.

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[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 30: Likeness

Draco Malfoy had spent his entire life being shaped and molded into the image and likeness of Lucius Malfoy.

It had always been assumed that he would go into politics, that he would settle down with a nice pureblood girl and have a child. His life had always been laid out before him like it had already happened.

But the summer Draco turned 18 he left. He left his family, left his friends, left the wizarding world all together. Draco cut his hair short on the sides and let the top grow out and then he dyed it pink.

He got a muggle tattoo; bright, beautiful flowers to cover up the dark mark: new life conquering death.

And he got a job dancing at a strip club. He was good at it, he had the body for it, for the corsets and the tiny panties, for the heels that made his legs look miles long. The muggle glitter made his pale, muscular body shimmer under the lights. He had the face for it, his eyes mysterious and otherworldly enough that the make-up only enhanced it.

He was a very popular act and Draco enjoyed the whole affair. He enjoyed people watching him, desiring him. It wasn't a forever career but it served him well.

It continued to serve him well for four whole years, before one night when the lights came up and he strut out onto the stage, rolling his hips and letting his hands caress his body, and just as he was reaching for the pole his eyes snagged on a pair of eyes he would have recognized anywhere.

It felt like eternity passed in the beat of the song he missed as he found Harry Potter staring back at him from the audience. A jolt of something electric skittered down his spine and Draco forced himself to look away and start dancing.

(Read more below the cut)

He hooked his leg around the pole and began his routine, falling into the familiar motions, spinning, and rolling, and flipping, using every ounce of strength and control he possessed.

And he very intentionally did not allow his eyes to stray to Potter.

Even without looking, though, he knew that he had the other man's undivided attention. It had been so long since he'd felt the heat of Potter's gaze on him that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be the center of his attention.

At the very end, as he was collecting the notes that had been thrown at him, he allowed himself one more look.

Potter had grown up. He'd grown taller and his body had filled out, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same boy who'd come to Hogwarts looking malnourished, weak, and filthy to fight the most dangerous wizard to ever live. His hair had grown out, too, it was pulled back into a messy bun, and he'd grown in a beard that he kept trimmed neatly.

He had the sudden urge to feel the scrape of his beard on all of the sensitive places on his body, to sink his fingers into Potter's curls as his mouth tasted Draco's skin.

He made eye contact, and his arousal spiked at the look of sheer want in the other man's eyes. In that moment, Draco felt like the most powerful man in the entire world.

The man sitting next to Potter, a muggle that Draco didn't recognize, punched him in the shoulder and the moment dissipated like smoke.

With a quick shake of the head, he finished collecting his money and disappeared back stage without looking at him again.

That night he wondered what would come of Potter seeing him, wondered if he'd find reporters from the Prophet at the show the next night, worried that his world was crashing down around him.

But he couldn't seem to stop wondering if he might see Potter again.

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

Potter returned the next night, and the next, and the next, and so on for the following month.

Every time Draco stepped onto the stage, Potter was there in the crowd watching. And he found himself watching Potter more and more, until one night he spent nearly his entire scene watching the other man, he might as well have used Potter as a spot to keep himself from getting dizzy.

It was that night that he decided enough was enough. He had to find out why Potter was here and what he wanted. After his performance he changed quickly, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He slipped into a pair of trainers and headed out of his dressing room and toward the door that led into the club.

Potter was no where to be seen when he came in so he went outside and saw him walking down the sidewalk. "Potter!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The other man froze before turning slowly to look at him.

Draco jogged to catch up to him but found that he wasn't quite sure what to say once he was standing in front of him.

"Uh," the other man said inelegantly, rubbing the back of his neck, "Hey."

"Hey?" Draco spluttered incredulously. "You show up to every single one of my performances for the past month and that is all you have to say? Hey?"

"You're very talented," Potter offered.

"Yes," he replied.

Potter snorted, "Humble as ever, I see."

"Why should I be humble? I am talented," he said, tilting his chin up defiantly. "I've worked hard to get where I am."

"Sorry," Potter said, trying to backpedal, "I didn't-" he shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say to you. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," Draco replied. He crossed his arms, wishing he'd brought a jacket, "Just," he huffed, "tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you keep coming to watch me dance!"

Potter looked at him for a long moment, "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied, because it was true. Potter started to shrug off his jacket, "You don't have to do th-" but his protest fell on deaf ears as he looped it over Draco's shoulders.

"I've asked myself that very same question a thousand times," Harry replied. "In part, I think it's because so many people just stayed the same. It's why I left the wizarding world for the most part, everyone wanted me to be who I'd always been and I didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be allowed to grow and change. And you've obviously done that, too."

"So, what you felt like we were kindred spirits or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," Potter replied, lazily lifting one shoulder, "But you're just nothing like what I imagined you turn out to be and it made me wonder what else I was wrong about when it came to you."

"And you thought the best way to figure it out was by watching me pole dance?"

Potter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again, "I don't know. I couldn't figure out what to do," he confessed. "I didn't know how to talk to you."

"Still," Draco said, "there has to be more to it than that."

"You're also bloody gorgeous," Potter added, "when you dance. And I really like watching you."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "I'd wondered a little bit before I saw you again if part of my obsession with you at Hogwarts was actually attraction that I just hadn't understood at the time."

"And?" he asked.

"Well, obviously seeing you again confirmed it." Potter looked down and scuffed his toe on the sidewalk.

In a moment of bravery that he'd never quite be able to understand later, Draco stepped forward, caught Potter's chin and pressed their lips together.

Potter took a surprised gasp, sucking a bit of Draco's air into his mouth before he started to kiss him back. His hands moved to cup Draco's face as he kissed him softly, gently like Draco was something precious, something treasured.

He'd been kissed a lot but he'd never been kissed like this. He'd never been kissed with such single-minded devotion, never been kissed like he was someone instead of something. Potter licked into his mouth, stroking his tongue over Draco's as one of his hands slid down to Draco's waist, drawing him a bit closer.

After a long moment, Potter pulled back first, "We should get off the sidewalk," he said.

"Logical," Draco replied.

"Could I take you to dinner?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I don't usually have dinner with my one night stands."

"Well, maybe I could not be a one night stand?" Potter said. "Not that I'm even remotely opposed to the idea of sex with you, I just can't imagine that one night could ever be enough."

"I might be able to be persuaded."

"Oh?" Potter asked, smiling wide enough that his dimples appeared. "How might I be able to persuade you?"

He smirked, "I'm not entirely sure yet but you're resourceful, you'll figure it out."

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" Potter asked.

"You flat," he replied. "I'm still in my stage make-up and it makes for some funny looks."

"Your make up is gorgeous," Potter protested, "But I'd be very glad for you to come back to my flat."

"Lead on, then," Draco replied, feeling a spark of anticipation.

This was just the first of many nights that Draco came to Harry's flat after the show. He came to his flat so often, in fact, that it eventually became their flat. And Harry had been right all along, one night (or one lifetime, for that matter) could never be enough.

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

You can read Day 107: Charge as a sequel to this ficlet. :)

Day 29: Punch | Day 31: Veritaserum

[samstrugglingwithlife]

Babysitting With A  Reserved Male Friend And Developing A Crush On Him

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Ushijima, Osamu, Daichi

Warning: Swearing.

A/n: Male reader x character. This is super long, I sorta got carried away. I GOT CARRIED AWAY WAY TOO FAR MAN! The premise of this ask was so cute and I can only hope I did it justice. I hope you guys enjoy it. This is my first time writing for a male reader so let me know if I did something wrong or if I didn’t capture the essence right. 

It’s super long, so everything is under the cut.

USHIJIMA

This guy is pretty reserved himself, and on top of it, he's also pretty blunt and says things without much consideration. The two of you became 'friends' in your first year when one of the teachers asked you to help him with his studies.

You realised that Wakatoshi is not really as cold as he is clueless. Also, he was a bit of a dumbass, you were pretty surprised when you found out that his brain functioned at full capacity only when it came to volleyball. (A/N: Boy thought that the earth is flat and that Hinata was muscle training by clinging upside down to the surface on the other side of the planet... such dumbassery, I want him.)

You're third years now; you guys have been friends for about two years. Ushijima and you are both serious guys, you two like each other's companies even when you two sit together in silence.

It was a week before exams, that's when the two of you would usually get together in Ushijima's dorm room, and you would tutor him.

"Y/n," he called you just as you left your last class of the day. "Hmm?" "Are you coming today?"

You sigh, "Sorry. Maybe tomorrow. I have to babysit my little sister tonight," he nodded in reply and proceeded to walk away. You thought about it a little and called out to him, "Hey, you can come to my house. I was gonna study literature today." 

Wakatoshi nodded and promised to see you at your place after practice. You texted him your address.

Outside the boundaries of your home, you were very reserved, you kept to yourself and hardly had any friends other than Ushijima, and Tendou by extension. At home, you were a loving brother, you played with your sister, and you were her best friend; she was the reason you decided not to live in the Shiratorizawa dorms. 

That evening, around six, Ushijima showed up at your place. He had never seen you in casual clothes before, you two only ever hung out at school, so he had only seen you in uniform, but you looked cute; he was dressed in his jogging tracksuit, typical.

Your sister was busy watching her favourite cartoons, so she didn't pay any attention as you led him to your room. You left him there to go get the two of you drinks from the kitchen.

Your room was just like you, it gave nothing away. It was sparsely furnished with only a bed, a dresser and a study table. All the colours were plain and neutral. However, there was one thing that stood out, a corkboard. It was covered in children's drawings and pictures of you and your baby sister. 

There was one photo of you that caught his eye, it was you with your sister in your arms, and the two of you were grinning from ear to ear, paint smeared on both your cheeks.

"It was last month," Ushijima turned towards you. You walked further into your room, placing the tray with your drinks on your study table, you stand beside him and stare fondly at the photo. You trace your fingers gently over it, a small smile playing at your lips, his heart does a little ba-dump.

The two of you are immersed in your studies until your baby sister opens your door just a crack, "Nii-chan..." she calls out groggily, her little fists rubbing her eyes. You turn towards her and get up from your seat, picking her up. You look at the alarm clock and inhale in disbelief, "Oh! It's that late?" 

"It's way past your bed time!" you pat her head as she places it in the crook of your neck and shoulder, tired. You softly hum a lullaby as you gently rock her. Ushijima's heart does another flip. He had known you for two years, but he had never seen you like this, with a sweet smile on your face and a gentle cadence in your voice. He didn't know you after all.

After you tuck your sister in bed, you walk with Wakatoshi to the end of your street. He always enjoyed your company, during lunch, in his dorm room when you helped him out with homework, yet he never in these two years felt what he felt in the last two hours.

Ever since that day, his heart always did a flip whenever you were around, he felt the urge to be near you, he felt protective of you. He didn't know what to call this feeling, but he quite liked it, whatever it was.

OSAMU

You and Osamu were classmates, you were his seat neighbour. The two of you became friends when Osamu offered to share his homemade onigiri with you, and you decided to share your homemade dessert with him. He enjoyed the feedback you gave him about his food. He wasn't exactly a fan of sweet things, but the desserts you made were to die for.

Osamu figured early on that you liked to keep to yourself most of the time, you just couldn't get along with your peers. You were on the soccer team but you never hung out with your teammates after practice, so far, Osamu was your only friend. You were both the quiet type, neither of you spoke much, but you always shared your lunches and sometimes chatted about your clubs - Osamu liked to complain about Atsumu sometimes, you found it very amusing.

It was during summer break. The two of you were texting (dry ass texters both of you), he was complaining about his brother and wanted to get out of the house. He invited you to hang out,  but you had to decline because your mother was away on a work trip leaving you to look after your nine years old little twin brothers. You told him that he is welcomed to come to your place and hang out if he really wants to get away from Atsumu.

Osamu took you up on your offer, and within half an hour, he was at your doorstep, a bag of ingredients and snacks in his arms. The first thing he sees when you open the door to let him in is two identical twin boys clinging to you, all of you covered in flour. 

You let him in, "We were just baking," you tell him awkwardly. You had flour in your hair, on your cheeks, your t-shirt, and your arms; for some reason, Osamu's heart quickened in his chest. 

You looked questioningly at the bag in his hands, "Was gonna make onigiri..." he mumbles. Your brothers perked up, "Really?" they asked simultaneously. You chuckled at their voices. It was as if an arrow shot him straight through his heart. He had never heard you could laugh like that. How could you sound so boyish, so cute? 

Nonetheless, Osamu followed you to the kitchen. You picked the boys up and sat them on the counter with a grunt, "Ushah! Now sit tight and lemme work ya lill' runts!" you playfully scold them. Osamu blinked, who were you? He didn't know this Y/n at all; the Y/n he knew spoke quietly and never uttered more than three words at a time, he especially did not make that fuckin' cute grunting sound. 

He unloaded the items onto the counter next to you, he leaned closer to look into your bowl, "What're you makin'?" he asked. "Cookies," you reply. "I saw it online, wanna try it out."

You were busy working on your dough, animatedly interacting with your brothers, as Osamu rolled the onigiri, stealing little glances at you. He was caught completely off guard when he heard you laugh loudly at something your little brothers did, his face flushed as he looked at you, you sounded so different, so charming, your face looked so handsome and cute. He was seeing things he never noticed before, like how one of your incisors was sharper than the other and like despite being big and strong, your hands were so beautiful and so attractive in the way they delicately dealt with the food. "Osamu! yer squeezin' the rice too hard!" oh shit! He turned the rice ball into mulch.

After cleaning up, eating and playing with the boys, you found yourself seeing Osamu off at the door at the end of the day. "Sorry 'bout my brothers," you say as you nervously rub the back of your neck. "Don't worry 'bout it," he replies softly and places his hand on your head shocking both you and him. He retracts it quickly, "I-I had fun, see ya later," he says and hurriedly walks away.

"Ya had fun?"Atsumu asks him when he finally gets home and buries his face in his pillows. "Fuckin' cute..." Osamu mumbles to himself. "What?" Atsumu asks, not really catching what his brother said. "Shaddup," he replies. "YOU PICKIN' A FIGHT ASSHOLE?!!" 

DAICHI

You and Daichi were neighbours. He knew you since you two were little so he knew you had trouble getting along with others and you mostly kept to yourself. He was the only exception, but even with him, you never spoke much.

Both of your parents were close friends as well, and both of your younger siblings were more or less in the same age group.

You often looked after all the children when the grown-ups had to go out since Daichi had club activities that ran pretty long on most days. The kids loved you, though Daichi found it hard to believe that such a quiet and reserved guy could entertain a bunch of hyperactive kids.

Today as well, you were in charge of taking care of the children as the adults left to go enjoy Friday. You were in the Sawamura household with the children, Daichi was still at practice.

On his end, Daichi felt relieved that practice ended early today and coach Ukai allowed them to go home. After buying his teammates pork buns he made his way home.

What he came home to caught him off guard, you were sitting on the couch with a storybook in your hands as the kids all sat in front of you on little cushions; you were reading to them, doing all the voices quite animatedly.

All of you heard him enter the house. The kids ran to him and swarmed around him, greeting him. "Y/n onii-san was reading a story to us!" his little sister exclaims. "Is that so?" "Wanna join us?" your brother asks him. "Sure."

Daichi took a seat beside you, you nod at him in a greeting. He rolls his eyes, "Hello to you too."

As you continued the story, the kids demanded that Daichi should do the voices as well. "I'm the wizard and the dragon," you tell him. "You have to be the princess and the parrot." Daichi groaned, "They're both very high pitched, I literally cannot do that!" You shrugged, "Not my problem."

As you continued the story and did your voices, Daichi kept his eyes on you, in all the years he had known you, this was the first time he had seen this side of you. Honestly, this bright personality suited you.

Soon his turn came, you scooted closer to him so you could share the book. "Oh no, I'm trapped in the tower," he started in his usual voice, all the kids whined, "Onii-chan! You have to do the voice!" his sister scolded him. Daichi sighed, "Help me!" he cried out the dialogue in a much higher pitch. "Pfft!"

He turned to glare at you and yell but his words got caught in his throat, your shoulders were shaking in a silent laugh, your hand on your mouth. Your eyes met his, they were so bright and looked so cheerfully youthful, so different from your usual look of guarded emotions. His breath hitched and he felt his face grow warmer as his heart did somersaults in his chest. 'It's the embarrassment,' he tried to convince himself. 

He didn't know that he was staring that long until you nudged his knee with yours and pointed at his next line. Daichi cleared his throat and read it in a high pitch voice.

After the story was finished, the kids were sitting together and eating their snacks. Daichi slumped against the back of the couch, deep in thought, did his heart race because of you or the embarrassment?

"Hey," he looked up, you were standing over him, a glass of water in your hand. He sat up and gratefully took the drink from you, his fingers lightly brushed against yours and he felt his heart jolt in his chest. You didn't seem affected at all. 'It was because of you after all.'

"Thanks for playing along, man," you say in your usual reticent tone. Daichi shook his head and chuckled, "Like I had a choice," you chuckled at that.

From that moment onwards, Daichi was hyper-aware of everything you did, the way you looked in your uniform, the way your features were so boyish and young looking, the way your lips moved when you spoke.

Daichi cursed himself for having a crush on his childhood friend who also happened to be a guy; he needed to get over it fast so you wouldn't find out, afraid that you would distance yourself out of disgust if you ever got to know his feelings. Until then, however, he was going to hang around you as much as he could, just so he could admire you a little more before the crush wore off.

Spoiler alert! It never wore off and you found out.

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

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Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

[samadiw]

Knickers - Part 06 - Knickerless 💦💣😘

A massive thank you to everyone who read this mini series, much love ❤

A very special thank you to @scdramione for reading through the chapters 🤗🤗

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Party Time.

T : "Looking sharp, Drake."

Draco raises a questioning brow.

D : "Was there ever a doubt?"

Theo frowns and shakes his head.

T : "I pity Granger for having to put up with your big fat head."

Draco shoves Theo, the tall man topples over.

D : "Fuck off, Nott, your lucky Lovegood thinks you have a sense of humour."

Theo gets to his feet and defends himself.

T : "I am hilarious."

Blaise rolls his eyes.

B : "In your dreams."

Theo turns to Draco and instructs.

T : "Give Granger the box of chocolates and rose."

Draco smiles in gratitude.

D : "Thanks, mate."

Theo rolls his eyes

T : "Yeah, whatever."

Both men laugh.

B : "Blimey, you really are changing. I've never seen you give anyone anything on Valentine's."

Draco winks.

D : "No time like the present to change old habits."

Theo clicks his fingers and quips.

T : "You're so fucking whipped."

Draco grabs the box and rose and looks at his friends.

D : "Fuck off, is this umm...alright?"

Theo smiles warmly.

T : "Look Blaise, our boy is growing up."

Blaise puts his arm around Theo and smirks at Draco.

D : "Yeah, mate, it's fine."

Hermione twirls in front of the mirror and blows herself a kiss.

She's happy with her choice of dress

It's a blue halter that hugs her curves and rests an inch above her knees.

It was daring and sexy but appropriate.

It requires no bra, the back full open, she pins her hair up into an elegant chignon bun and lets a few wild curls adorn her face.

There is a loud knock on the main door.

Hermione glances at the clock, Malfoy was certainly punctual.

Hermione slipped into the dangerously high heels and prayed to Merlin.

The last thing she wanted to do was fall flat on her arse.

She opens the door and stares at the tall man standing outside nervously, he looks paler than usual.

Draco straightens in what Hermione can only describe as a tailored crisp black suit and tie to match that hugs his body like a glove.

He smiles sheepishly and hands her a large single red rose and expensive box of chocolates.

D : "I hear it's the norm to give these."

Hermione continues staring at the imposing man before her and mumbles.

H : "Thank you, these are lovely."

Draco lets his eyes rove over Hermione.

He compliments without hesitation.

D : "You look....beautiful."

Good manners kick in and Hermione finally finds her voice.

H : "So do you."

Draco laughs.

D: "Ah, I would prefer devilishly handsome but yeah, thanks."

Hermione holds the door open for him to enter.

H : "I'm so sorry, please come in."

Draco steps into the living space and does a quick look around.

D : "Nice place."

Hermione places the box of chocolates and exquisite rose on the table and closes the gap between them.

Draco pulls her close and kisses her fervently.

Fuck, she looks and smells absolutely mind altering.

Draco rasps, his voice forceful and demanding.

D : "What colour are your knickers, Granger?"

Hermione bites Draco's bottom lip.

H : "What makes you think I'm wearing any?"

Holy fuck, blood rushes South and his cock springs to life.

Hermione makes a split second decision.

She takes Draco's hand and leads him into her room.

Draco swallows hard.

Was it go time?

Her room is decorated typically, a shelf full of books take up the wall space to the left, a study table and white cupboard take up the space to the right, a large Gryffindor banner hangs above the bed.

Ah, the bed.

Draco eyes it critically and decides its sturdy enough to withstand his pending actions.

He massages the bridge of his nose.

D : "Umm, as much as I'm going to regret saying the next fews words, but we don't have time to get sidetracked."

Hermione slips off her heels and glances over her bare shoulder.

H : "Fuck the party, Malfoy, I much rather have you."

Draco grins as Hermione releases the clasp that holds her dress together, it falls to the floor and she delicately steps out of it.

She's completely naked and standing before him. It prompts him to act.

Draco tosses his jacket onto the sofa in the corner and works on undoing the buttons on his shirt while closing the gap between them.

Draco pulls Hermione to him roughly and claims her lips hungrily.

D : "You taste sinfully sweet."

Hermione groans.

She pushes his shirt off his firm body and gently brushes her fingertips along his body, up his neck and into his hair.

Grabbing a fistful, she pulls on it.

Fuck...

Draco deepens the kiss, running his insistent tongue across her bottom lip, Hermione moans into his mouth.

Merlin, how he loves the sounds she makes.

It was her tongue that slips into his mouth first and pushes against his, with utter desperation they clung onto each other to satisfy their craving for each other's bodies.

He could feel her nervous rapid heartbeats as he moves his fingers to cup her face, he kisses her deeply, savouring the taste of peppermint.

The small fingers in his hair drop to caress his neck. Tearing himself away from her soft lips, his lips trail a path of fire along her neck.

Draco takes his time to taste Hermione, he sucks on her delicate flesh tantalizingly slowly.

It's no secret that he wanted to sleep with her since first seeing her knickers weeks ago but he was not about to rush it.

Hermione's fingers tremble, as she slowly traces them over Draco's toned body, his muscles rippling in response to her touch.

His body is firm and fit, she supposed it was because of his Quidditch training.

Draco trails kisses down Hermione's sensual body and takes a pebbled rosy nipple in his mouth.

Hermione throws her head back, pushing herself further into Draco and his delicious mouth.

He twirls his tongue around a nipple, feeling the hardened bud against his insistent tongue, before taking it fully in his mouth and sucking on it. Bolts of pleasured electricity shoot through Hermione and her hold on Draco tightens.

Running his tongue back up to her neck, he bites down on her ear lobe and sinks his teeth into her collarbone.

She urges, encourages and surrenders to him completely, it feels good to relinquish control.

Placing firm hands on the cheeks of her arse, Draco lifts Hermione, she wraps her legs around him tightly and holds onto his broad shoulders.

She feels his impressive erection press into her thigh. Draco carries Hermione to the bed and lays her down amidst simple cotton sheets.

The wanting, the need, the fucking tension, he felt since seeing her bloody knickers, grabs him by his very centre and pulls him to her.

It consumes him whole and there is no going back.

Draco growls into Hermione's ear.

D : "Are you sure?"

Hermione replies breathlessly, running her fingers down his back.

H "Yes, very."

Draco kisses her neck, savouring the sweetness so ardently offered. Her skin awakens to his touch, as he places airy kisses down her flat stomach.

Draco gently sucks on the side of her supple waist, leaving his mark. Hermione gasps, her toes curl into the bedding.

He feels her heat the closer he gets to her core.

His breathing hitches and Draco swallows hard as he sees the glistening wetness that he tongued a week ago in the prefects bathroom.

He can hardly resist, Draco runs his tongue slowly down her slit. Hermione's fingers tighten in his hair.

She watches him, he stares back without breaking eye contact.

His gaze shifts, as he moves his tongue expertly inside her pink folds, licking the delicate flesh and swirling his tongue around before sucking on her swollen bud.

Hermione cries out in pleasure but it's short lived, Draco withdraws his tongue and she lets out a pleading whimper.

H : "No, so close..."

Draco smiles against her smooth thigh. He runs his lips along the smooth heated skin of her inner thigh, placing airy kisses that make the skin under tingle and pulsate.

Turning his attention to the other, he relentlessly makes sure no area of her body went untouched.

He inserts a finger into her wetness, she does not expect that.

Her pussy clamps down on his digits and he starts to finger fuck her hard.

Fuck, she was dripping.

Hermione moans aloud at the intrusion but welcomes his fingers working inside of her, one finger becomes two as Draco continues his assault on her cunt.

His erection was getting unbearable, it strains against his trousers, Draco reluctantly gets to his feet.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Hermione, he sucks his fingers clean of her juices, pushes down his trousers and towers over her.

His cock stands at full mast eagerly awaiting it's reward.

A sudden jolt of excitement tears through him.

Hermione moves her arm above her head and gazes at Draco in anticipation.

Her eyes rove over him, they take in his arm muscles, the toned bodyline and his manhood. She spreads her thighs to make room for him.

Draco lowers himself between Hermione's legs and allows her to adjust to his weight.

His lips claim hers once again and her fingers draw patterns on his back and squeeze his firm arse cheeks.

Draco moves his head up to hers and locks eyes with her.

He grabs hold of his throbbing erection and rubs it against her wet entrance.

D : "Does that feel good, darling?"

H : "It feels so good."

Hermione mewls in want and moves her hips in anticipation.

Placing his throbbing erection at her core, Draco pushes in hard.

He wants to see her face when she took him in, he wants to see the intensity and by Merlin, she did not disappoint.

The pleasure was instantaneous, it rips through them, but she remains silent and he panics.

Fuck, did he do something wrong? Is she in pain?

He was used to praise, others were always quick to moan and compliment the second his cock entered their lady garden.

"You feel so good."

"So big, I love how you fill me up."

"I've wanted this for so long."

"Baby, fuck me harder."

But Granger remained silent and unresponsive.

It wasnt a lie that she felt beyond amazing, her cunt closed tightly around his cock and it felt so bloody good.

Draco almost lifts his head to look into Hermione's face when he feels her breath ghost the delicate skin of his ear.

H : "Draco....."

His name, she whispers it almost reverently and he needs nothing else, it meant more than every praise he had ever received.

He groans aloud, completely lost within her.

D : "Fuck Granger, you're so tight."

Hermione can hardly contain herself, she moans loudly, and her fingers dig into his back holding him close.

Draco moves with purpose, building up a beautiful rhythm as every painful inch of him is now buried deep within her.

He quickens the pace and pounds into her relentlessly. He loves how she thrusts into him and matches his movements.

Bending to take a rosy nipple in his mouth, Draco increases the speed while sucking on her aroused little nub.

Oh, she was close, very close. She was squirming at an alarming rate under him.

Her body was so receptive to his touch.

They were bathed in sweat and it dripped down his back and onto her body.

Draco holds Hermione close and thrusts into her mercilessly. The raw sound of flesh hitting flesh, echoes through the confinements of her small bedroom.

Draco was losing control fast, his desire accumulates, ready to spurt forth.

Fuck, she felt glorious.

Hermione whispers urgently.

H : "I'm going to come."

Her hold on him tightens, sharp painted nails dig into his arm and shoulder.

With a loud moan, she falls back against the pillow and her climax tears through her.

H : "Fuck..ahh...oh God, you feel...so damn right."

It has been so long since she experienced anything like this.

Her slick wetness drowns his cock and he slips but he's so hard it hardly matters.

Draco summons his wand and quickly casts a contraceptive charm over Hermione, the small golden orb disappears into her skin.

With one final, hard push, he sheaths his penis deep in her love canal and comes undone.

His release cripples him, and he smothers a deep growl into her mouth.

D : "I will never tire of fucking you, Hermione."

She holds him close to her body, never once letting go, her fingers trails up his back and into his hair.

He spills into her until he is completely and utterly spent. Completely exhausted, he collapses on top of her.

Draco slowly opens his eyes to meet Hermione's fiery brown orbs staring at him full of fire and passion.

Pieces of rogue hair fall onto her face, he brushes away the wild strands to look at her. Reluctantly, he withdraws and moves to the side, she moves closer to him nuzzling into his neck.

Her voice a whisper.

H : "That was..."

His chest heaving, he breathlessly finishes her sentence.

D : "Yeah, I can't find the right words either."

Draco holds on tightly and rasps.

D : "We aren't done, Granger."

Hermione grins mischievously and straddles the gorgeous wizard in her bed.

After he's taken her in every way possible, they cuddle and stare at the ceiling.

Her voice is hoarse from screaming his name, she traces the pinkish healed outline of his sectumsempra scar with the tip of her forefinger.

D : "I guess, I earned the right to fuck the great Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione giggles

H : "It was the box of chocolates that did it."

Draco let's out a hearty chuckle.

D : "Remind me to thank Theo."

He looks at the large clock and turns to face the naked witch next to him.

D : "Do you think it's too late to head down?"

Hermione shakes her head.

H : "The party isn't over, I'm starving."

Draco pushes himself off the bed, reaches for his trousers and steps into them

Well, guess the deed was done.

Hermione stretches her deliciously sore muscles and gets up.

Draco clears his throat nervously.

D : "Granger, are you busy this weekend?"

Hermione looks around for her discarded dress and mutters.

H : "Not really."

Draco comes closer, cups Hermiones face and stares into her eyes.

D : "Let me take you out, we can go to Hogsmeade."

Hermione gasps mockingly.

H : "Do my ears deceive me? Did The Prince of Slytherin, arrogant pureblood who wished I died, just ask me out?"

Draco fists Hermione's hair and gives it a rough tug.

D : "I'm not that same person, Granger."

Hermione puts her arms around Draco's neck and kisses him passionately.

H : "I know, darling."

He returns her enthusiasm.

D : "How about we give this boyfriend, girlfriend thing a go? Would you be open to that?"

Hermione smiles lovingly.

H : "Yes, you prat, I'd be very open to that."

Draco kisses her knuckles.

D : "Good, that's settled then."

Hermione smirks.

H : "Took you long enough."

Draco sighs.

D : "I'm sorry, love, I'm not all that great with feelings and stuff."

Hermione cups Draco's chin and kisses him.

H : "I know your damaged."

D : "But you still want me."

H : "Go figure, maybe I'm just after a good shag."

Draco kisses the tip of Hermione's nose

D : "It was a bloody fantastic shag."

Draco smacks Hermione's arse and she squeals.

D : "Get ready before I take you to bed again."

The sheets are soiled with their love making.

H : "How can you possibly have the energy?"

Draco shrugs and grins devilishly.

D : "What can I say? The Dragon loves you, Granger."

[mqgriett]

Crosshair- The Exam

Prompt: “You’re the only thing that matters”

Pairings: Crosshair x Fem!reader

Warnings: none!

Summary: you’ve been studying your ass off for a month trying to prepare for the exam that will dictate whether or not you get to go back to the 104th battalion as a medic. 

Notes: IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG thank you sm for requesting @lightning-wolffe

You shut off your data pad and pushed it under your armpit, squeezing it with your bicep to not let it fall from your grip as you open your textbook. Before you received the chance to re-read your highlighted notes you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“I heard that your boys landed in Hangar 5.” Kix chirped, pointing behind him with his thumb. He ran his opposite hand through his short brown hair, smiling kindly. 

You hummed in response, your attention mostly focused on your annotations. The big exam, one that basically determined whether or not you were allowed to return to your assigned Clone Force, was in three days. Every quiet moment was spent with you cracking open a textbook or reviewing your notes. Now that you thought about it, when was the last time you ate… or slept?

Kix quickened his pace and moved in front of you, using his index finger to push your book down to properly view your face. “You know the exam isn’t for another three days, right?” he asked. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, “Unfortunately not everyone has a memory like yours. I need to study.” you said, closing your book and bopping him on the head with it lightly. 

He took the textbook from your hands, holding it up in the air until it was out of your reach. “Fives!” he called to someone you couldn’t see, “Batchers still here?” 

Behind you, the ARC trooper nodded, “Gonna be here for the next coupla hours. Engine is shot.” 

Kix let his guard down just long enough for you to grab your study materials back. You gently nudged him to the side and walked past, just wanting to get back to your quarters and study. 

The medic gave up, hurrying to catch up with Fives as you walked in the opposite direction. 

Were you dying to see the Bad Batch? Absolutely.

Did you have the time to? Unfortunately not.

Someone (a medic from the 212th apparently, but you tried not to believe rumors) had fucked up a month ago, and it costs you your privilege of being an on-site medic. All field nurses were sent back to Coruscant to retake the big medical exam to prove that they could still serve as medics. 

Unlike Kix, you took it very seriously. Getting anything below a 80% would make your chances of returning small. Only the top 45% of nurses would go back to their battalions while the other 55% stayed on Coruscant to continue their studies. 

The large metal door to your room slid open as you scanned your hand and you stepped inside. Without looking up, you wandered to your desk, which was covered in an assortment of different papers and sticky notes. 

Still reading your textbook, you typed in the access code for your online notes. After a few seconds an automated female voice began to quiz you on questions you had written down two weeks ago.

You stood up and undressed yourself, lazily pulling a dark brown shirt over your head and letting your hair fall loose from the bun that had sat on your head for the majority of the day. 

“Define Choledocholithiasis.” said the voice. 

“Stones in the gallbladder or common bile duct” you replied effortlessly, shuffling to your bathroom to fill the water compartment for your caf. 

You plugged the machine into the wall, allowing the slow drip of heavenly brown liquid to start as you sat back down at your desk. It gave you a moment to think about everything. Realistically, you were more qualified than half the shinies going in to take the exam. 

Kriff, you were wasting your time here. 

You pushed back from your desk and slid on the first pair of shoes that were near your door. 

The halls had quieted down for the most part, most of the clones eating dinner or heading to bed if they had an early start tomorrow morning. 

Massaging your scalp and yawning, you made your way to Hangar 5. 

You looked a little tired, but it didn’t matter as long as you got to see Crosshair. You knew none of them would care but especially not him, in the small window of time you two got alone he frequently told you how much he loved your messy hair. He wasn’t much of a verbal communicator when it came to your relationship, but he always made up for it in physical gestures. 

Rounding the final corner, your eyes began to scan the busy hangar for the marauder. You took back your thought from earlier, seeing that Hangar 5 was a lot more busy than you had anticipated. 

At least two different squadrons were shipping out, from what you could tell it was the 104th and 312th battalions. The blurred figures of grey and green armor made it difficult to keep your focus on one thing at a time. 

You carefully started to walk along the wall, ducking until a small cruiser as a short cut. 

After another ten minutes of searching you finally spotted a familiar face in the bottom right corner of the hangar. 

Tech typed away at his data pad, turning to shout something up at Wrecker, who was sitting on the top of the ship and swinging his legs like a mad man. 

Despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach, you took your time walking over to them. It was nice to just observe and laugh at their behavior for a few minutes, it lifted your spirits.

Once you were within vision to Wrecker, he didn’t hesitate to point and shout at you from the top of the Marauder. 

“Tech!” You called as he mindlessly searched for you in the crowd of people. 

He grinned widely, opening his arms up as you jogged over to him. He hugged you tightly, another pair of large arms suddenly wrapping around both of you. 

Wrecker finally set you two down, giving you an individual hug and swaying you from side to side. At one point you were almost choking. 

“Thought you were studying for the exam.” Tech said skeptically, eyeing you as if you would ever hide something from him. 

You shrugged, “priorities” you peeked over his shoulder, looking for a specific person. 

Tech noticed your wandering eyes and smiled, “Cross is taking inventory with Cody.” 

“Where’s Sarg?” you asked, linking your arm into his. 

“Talking to some of the blue regs.” Wrecker replied loudly, making a few of the 501st soldiers turn to look at him. The large clone was never one to be secretive when it came to addressing the other clones as “regs”. It often drew attention to the group, not necessarily the good kind either. 

From a distance you could see Hunter walking back towards the Marauder with Fives, both of them with their helmets at their hips. 

Sarg’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, his pace quickening as his urge to be with you grew. He hugged your torso tightly, allowing his arm to sling around your shoulder loosely afterwards. 

“It’s been a while.” He said, gently nudging you away from Fives before the ARC trooper could talk.

“It’s been two months. And I always call.” You replied, smiling. 

“You look exhausted.” Hunter pointed out quickly, looking down at the bags under your eyes. 

You shrugged, “could say the same for you Sarg.”

You four situated yourselves underneath the Marauder, sitting on top of a few power supplies and food crates. Hunter sat next to you, Wrecker and Tech mirroring both of you. 

“We were told you wouldn’t be coming down.” Hunter said, leaning back on his elbows. 

You raised a skeptical brow, “who told you that?”

“Fives” he answered nonchalantly, “why else would I be talking to him?”

His comment made your eyes roll, “be nice.” You warned, poking his stomach where armor didn’t cover him. 

Hunter swatted your hand away, briefly turning his head and smiling. “Look who’s back,” he jutted his thumb behind him, pointing to the two other clones making their way back to the ship.

Cody held a clipboard loosely at his side as he spoke to Crosshair, who carried his helmet against his hip. The 212th trooper laughed at something he said before saluting the sniper and walking in the opposite direction. 

You always seemed to forget how handsome Cross was in person. The blue hologram of him during your brief calls did nothing for his strong jawline and high cheekbones. The scruff along his jaw and neck was slightly more visible now, a grey shadow lingering along it. 

Pushing yourself off the crate, you broke into a swift jog towards him. For someone with perfect eyesight, he didn’t notice you coming until you were a few meters away. 

He opened his arms up, catching you perfectly as you jumped to him. 

His long arms held your waist completely as he lowered you to the ground, back arched due to his height compared to yours.“Didn't think you would come.” he said softly in your ear, his voice alone producing butterflies in your stomach. 

“I wanted to see you.” you replied, pulling away from him and moving to his side. 

Crosshair sent a small smirk to you, which was enough to indicate that he felt the same way. 

You walked side by side back to the rest of the group, shoulders touching and hands grazing against one another’s. The gestures were sweet, like the type you would make in school when you were younger. They were enough to make the other person feel loved without drawing too much attention. 

The Bad Batch, plus you, sat underneath their ship once more as the rest of the 104th took off in their ships. You waved to Sinker and Comet from the opposite side of the hangar, tossing over-dramatic kisses in their direction while they climbed up the steps. Another mission for them, one that you wouldn’t be going to. 

“When do you expect to return?” Tech asked from the top of his crate. You had situated yourself on a lower case, one that was used to store bombs and other small explosives. It kept you about seven or eight inches off the ground while Crosshair took your spot next to Hunter. 

You let out a long sigh, “I don’t even know if I’ll go back.”

“They need ya out there.” Wrecker replied, crossing his large legs like a child would. 

Crosshair could sense your unease and pushed himself off the crate, settling on the ground in front of you and leaning back so his head pressed against your chest. He let out a small chuckle, no doubt feeling your heartbeat quicken for a few moments. “They’ll take you back.” he said calmly, reaching for your hand and placing it atop his head. 

You began to run your fingers through his short, grey hair. “If I don’t get above an 80% then I’m not going back.” You mumbled. 

“Why 80?” Hunter asked innocently. 

“Because she’s a girl.” Wrecker replied loudly, having absolutely zero common sense as to who could be listening. 

Crosshair tense underneath you, muscles tightening against your legs, “Wrecker.” he seethed, using his brother’s full name. 

Your face dropped, cheeks heating up. He was right, but hearing someone finally say it out loud made it worse. That was the real reason you had been dedicating so many weeks to studying. Even if Kix received a 45% and you an 80%, they would choose him over you. Clones were bred to be intelligent. You were just a girl who somehow got Senator Palpatine to assign you to a clone squadron. 

You wiggled your way out from under Crosshair, stepping over the low crate of explosives and walking up the steps of the Marauder. It was cold inside but the chill felt so nice against your hot body. 

In all honesty, you wanted to cry. You wanted to go back to your room and bawl your eyes out until you physically couldn’t produce tears anymore. But you knew you couldn’t, that would be showing weakness. 

Soft footsteps echoed behind you, Cross’s monotone voice ringing in your ears shortly after, “he didn’t mean that.”

You shook your head, “No no, he’s right.” 

He took a few steps towards you, gently reaching for your wrist and pulling you into him. He rested his chin on your head, “you’ll do great on the exam.” 

You pushed off of him, needing a bit of air to keep from crying. You shook your wrists out and looked up at the ceiling, it helped a little bit. “Just nervous.” you muttered. 

He stayed silent, not exactly sure how to comfort you. Words frequently failed him and in the rare occasion that you were upset Tech was able to calm you down, but not this time. Crosshair wanted to make you feel better, no matter what it took. 

You hated being this vulnerable around anyone, the panic in your stomach growing every second of silence that passed. 

Taking a deep breath, you began to walk past him, “I need to go, you have more important things to-” 

He caught your bicep and spun you back around, other hand holding the small of your back as he kissed you. It was a deep, passionate, yet chaste, kiss. You melted into his grip, leaning backwards to force his lips onto yours more. You held the sides of his face, the small scruff on his jaw feeling immaculate against your own. 

He rested your foreheads together and quietly, barely audibly, whispered, “you’re the only thing that matters.” 

You were about to kiss him again when Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker walked through the door. 

Hunter smiled, “Guess who’s got a new nurse on the team.”

Your head cocked to the side, Wrecker looking like he was about to explode from excitement at any moment. “We do!” he bellowed, “and it’s you!” 

Mouth hanging open, you looked from Crosshair to the other three. “What?”

“Welcome to Clone Force 99, medic.” Hunter answered proudly.

[amorgansgal]

Moonlight as my Guide

Chapter Three of Cruel, Cruel World! If you’d like to read the first chapter it’s here, the 2nd chapter is here and you can read the whole thing on Ao3.

Warnings: Depiction of illness.

He has found himself thinking about her, the worry niggling at the back of his mind. It has been over two weeks and the rabbit they caught won’t last forever. Will she have been able to find more things to eat, will she have learnt how to use her husband’s rifle? He knows his presence will likely do her no good, that she would do better to not associate herself with an outlaw. And yet he finds himself riding along the path that runs by the train tracks, after he has made a visit to Annesburgh.

His horse, Cleopatra, trundles along, he’s not encouraging her with kicks to her side or clicks of his tongue. Arthur is too busy arguing in his mind that he shouldn’t visit Charlotte, he shouldn’t put her at risk, he shouldn’t care too deeply whether she lives or dies. But he’s already reached the Brandywine drop and is following the white, churning water that leaves cool droplets on his face. Perhaps it is part of dying. He must know, he has to be able to rest knowing that people are alive and well. Assumptions just won’t do anymore.

As Cleo trots lightly through the green swaying trees, the peaceful, quiet morning is interrupted by the loud crack of gunfire coming from Charlotte’s cabin. He immediately spurs his horse into a gallop and then once he’s near the entrance tumbles down from the saddle, foot almost catching in a stirrup. He runs up the rest of the hill, heart racing, desperate not to find her lying dead or begging for mercy at the hands of some thief looking for what little money she has!

He’s barely made it into the garden, when relief floods his heart as he hears Charlotte’s frustrated cry of, ‘Gosh darnit! Not a single one…’ and once he reaches the top of the hill, he sees her. She’s wearing the same blue blouse and plaid skirt, but both have evidently been cleaned and the skirt mended. She’s holding a rifle in her arms, her frustration all too evident as she kicks the ground with the toe of her boot.

She is busy reloading the gun, when she hears his footsteps and turns her head towards him. The frown she wears disappears within an instance and she smiles joyfully on seeing him. ‘Oh, hey there!’

He finds himself warmly returning the smile. ‘How you feelin’ Ma’am?’

‘Much better than I’ve felt in a long time, I… If we hadn’t caught that rabbit, I don’t think I’d have made it another day.’

‘Well, you look better.’

Her face is clear from the mud and tears, her skin looks clean and soft, though flushed from sunlight and the cold wind that blows down from the surrounding hills. A few strands of her dark hair have fallen loose from her bun, they shift lightly against the breeze. Arthur feels a strange urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ears, to feel the dark hair that is lined with silver against his hand, to cup her face in his hands and feel the warm flush.

‘Better and determined, thanks to you. And if I’m going to learn to hunt, I figured it was time I learned how to use Cal’s gun properly.’

She turns back to a row of glass bottles that have been set up on a crate and rests the gun against her shoulder.

‘And how’s that workin’ out for ya?’ he asks.

‘Well, let’s just say my prey is looking decidedly unscathed.’ She aims carefully, and then fires. The gun ricochets upwards almost out of her hands and she staggers back a little, chuckling at her efforts.

‘But the end of labour is to gain leisure, is that not what Aristotle said?’ She suddenly looks flustered, gazing down at the ground and Arthur moves the gun away from her face, so it is instead pointing out towards the entrance near the road.

‘Well, I… I don’t know much about Aristotle, but erm, I know a thing or two about shooting a gun.’ He gently turns her around to face the target again. ‘Look you gotta hold steady and firm.’ He places his hands on her shoulders, positioning the gun against the crook of her arm and straightening her back. The warmth of her bleeds through her shirt and he quickly pulls his hands away.

‘You just focus, breathe slowly and always pull the trigger on empty lungs.’ He gazes at her face, the small frown above her eyes and the eager, determined look in them is beautiful.

His eyes flick down her shoulders, her back, but before he goes any lower, he quickly walks round to her other side, anything to distract him from the way his mind is wandering. Christ’s sake, she’s a widow after all, her husband barely resting in his grave! He ignores the uncomfortable wave of shame that sweeps into his gut.

‘Here, I’ll show ya.’ He pulls his revolver from the holster and focuses on the bottles. ‘Okay… calm and steady… don’t snatch at the trigger.’ Arthur murmurs, more for Charlotte’s benefit than his. This is second nature to him, muscle memory. If he aims a gun he knows where the bullet will go. He aims at a green bottle and fires; the glass explodes and he just catches Charlotte’s gasp of amazement.

‘You make it look so easy,’ she says warmly.

‘Alright, you try now. Remember to breathe,’ he says, quickly brushing over her compliment.

She hoists the gun back to her shoulder, her green eyes narrowing on the target. ‘Wait to breathe out… wait to breathe out…’ she murmurs to herself. She fires, the bullet whizzes past the bottle, hitting the ground and sending a plume of dust into the air. Charlotte, however, smiles at him. ‘Would you look at that? I haven’t hit one that close all day!’

‘Not bad. Focus on the inhale, shoot on the exhale.’

She rolls her eyes at him good naturedly. ‘Come on, you got to give me some praise!’

‘I just did.’

She moves the gun back up and focuses on the bottles again, but her eyes suddenly dart over to the house and she gives a sigh. ‘Oh no, that wretched rat is back. Over there, do you see?’

Arthur glances over and sees a large brown rat scurrying by the undergrowth that surrounds the two buildings. The rat pokes its head up and sniffs the air, turning beady eyes on him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the rat is glaring at him.

‘It’s been a thorn in my side ever since we moved here. Could you kill it?’

The words have barely left her mouth, when he fires the pistol and the rat is no more. Charlotte lets out a small gasp of surprise that turns into a chuckle of amusement.

‘Show off! Alright, let me try again.’

She raises the rifle and Arthur watches as her long fingers carefully hold the weight of the gun. Her hands are calloused and a little dirty, and he finds himself glancing down at his own. They almost match, though his are certainly rougher. He wonders what it would be like to clasp her hand in his.

‘Come on, come on…’ She shoots and one of the glass bottles explodes into a shower of glass. He grins and Charlotte staggers back a little as though she can’t quite believe it. ‘Yes! I hit it! I hit it, didn’t I?’

She lets out a breathless, excited laugh and turns to him with a warm smile. ‘What can I say? Thank you.’ Her green eyes are shining brilliantly, her lips parted in a delighted smile and she shifts closer to him. He should draw back, take a step away from her, but instead he finds himself entranced by the forest glade of her eyes. She looks into his own and just for a moment the trees and nearby river seem to fall silent, as though the world is holding its breath in anticipation.

It is Charlotte who draws back, a soft flush on her cheeks and she worries her lower lip. ‘I still have some of the rabbit left that I salted up. Would you join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.’

He gives a short nod, now uncomfortable with his actions and trying to gaze anywhere but her eyes. As she leads the way to her cabin, he directs his attention to the hills and forest that surrounds the house, to avoid looking at the sway of her hips. Isn’t it bad enough that his own selfishness brings him to her door? Because he is seemingly determined to bring death and destruction to good people who don’t deserve it? Because he likes the way she smiles and looks at him and praises him.

They walk into the cabin, it’s a simple, rustic place. There’s a soft curtain with green leaves covering the window that looks out onto the backyard, a few cupboards line the walls most with books on them and there is table in the centre of the room. A warm fire is still burning in the grate and Charlotte throws another log when she passes it. On one of the cupboards, he sees a rudimentary trap that looks like it’s being repaired.

‘Go ahead and take a seat at the table. Food is just about done.’

He does as he is told and sits down. Charlotte grabs hold of a cloth and hefts the huge pot of stew over, then places on the table. She lets out a slight hiss and pulls her hands away quickly.

‘Well, it’s… it’s good and hot. I hope you enjoy it.’ She heads back to the cupboards and picks up two bowels, a large ladle and some cutlery. ‘You helped me catch it after all.’

She smiles at him and dishes the stew into the bowl, then passes him a spoon. ‘Bon appetit!’

‘Huh?’ he looks up in confusion and immediately feels bad on seeing the embarrassed flush that stains her cheeks. Goddammit, can’t he just keep his mouth shut and not be such an ignorant fool?

‘Please enjoy,’ she says, giving him a small smile. ‘And thank you again for everything. I really am grateful.’

‘Ahh,’ he shakes his head and reaches for his spoon. ‘It was nothing.’

‘You’re a good man.’

He gazes down at the bowl, shifting his spoon amongst the rich brown stew, the carrots and potatoes. He wished he didn’t keep hearing that. He wished people would stop saying it. He’s not. A good man is the last thing he could possibly be. He looks back up at her.

‘Oh, you don’t really know me.’

‘I know enough,’ she insists, her gentle smile warming him better than any stew. Although he’s always tempted to argue back and insist he’s not a good man, he finds himself focusing on the stew instead and quickly placing a spoonful in his mouth. He doesn’t want to disagree with Charlotte, she’s been far too kind to him, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

‘There’s always more to find in ourselves, you helped me to see that.’ She turns around and picks up another bowl from the counter. She sits back down and reaches over to the ladle in the stew pot. ‘My husband, Cal, was such an optimist. I found that to be very contagious.’

The stew is good, certainly better than Pearsons, though Arthur is aware that’s not a particularly hard feat. But it’s warming, rich and hearty, seasoned with small green herbs, a decent amount of pepper and salt. It runs hot down his throat and he suddenly finds his lungs burning, that deep desire to cough overriding everything. He tries to listen to Charlotte as she continues talking, hoping that her soothing, calm voice will distract him from painful ache in his chest.

‘But there’s a fine line between optimism and naiveté. We were both born with the silver spoon… banquets, butlers, valets…’

He gives a slight cough so he can speak, but it does nothing to soothe the burning claws that have entrenched themselves in his lungs. ‘Sounds terrible,’ he manages to rasp.

‘It was just… so many people, so many things. I was lost in it, I was crushed by it.’ She’s staring down at the stew, barely a mouthful has passed her lips. She looks back up at him, he avoids turning his head when he sees the deep look of trust in her eyes. He can’t hurt her, even if just purely by her knowing him.

‘My father was very overbearing. Then we came out here and I got crushed by this.’ She gazes around the room for a moment and then gives a light laugh. ‘You know I pictured myself picking fresh vegetables, sipping homemade wine, writing a great novel. But I turned out to be a far more pathetic anti-heroine than any I could ever pen.’

It sounds like a pretty dream and wouldn’t he like to be part of that dream. Helping to dig up potatoes, sipping wine with her on the porch, drawing her as she writes her great novel. But there isn’t a hope in hell that she would want him, she came here with her husband after all, she’s not looking for another man to take Cal’s place. It’s not like he has enough time to take his place, even if he wanted to.

‘Ah well… I reckon you’re going to be just fine.’ He coughs heavily. It’s getting worse, the claws sinking into his throat, till he can taste blood on his tongue and he can barely gasp for air.

Charlotte looks up at him, concern written all over her features. ‘Are you alright? Can I get you some water?’

‘No, I’m… I’m, I’m fine. I just um…’ He manages to get to his feet, trying to clear away the deep cough so he can continue talking to her, can listen to her talk about her family, her hopes, her plans. But right now, all he can concentrate on is the rasping cough, the tight burn of his lungs, the iron tang on his tongue that is mixed with the savoury taste of stew.

‘Yeah, thank you for this. I think it’s, it’s best if I ju… If I make…’ The cough takes every last bit of strength he had and leaves him gasping for air on his knees. He tries to inhale, but his body is wracked with the painful coughing. He hears Charlotte come to his side and through his half closed eyes, sees her hands reaching out to him, but shamefully he succumbs to the exhaustion his body has felt for far too long. The darkness swallows him up.

He wakes and it’s not with the soothing comfort of someone who is well rested, who relishes the warmth of their bed and the enjoys the gentle lull at the promise of a new day. He wakes with a cough, the gasping air rattling in his lungs and chest, his throat tight and heavy. He wakes on a small bed, by the looks of things one for a child, and slowly pushes himself up so he can get some air in his lungs.

There’s a small bedside table next to him, with a folded letter resting against a lacquered box with a brown lid and gold trim. White flowers decorate the lid and sides of the box. He picks up the letter and unfolds it. The neat script can only be Charlotte’s, it’s pretty and elegant to look at. No doubt something that was hammered into her from childhood. If she saw his rough scrawl she would probably laugh.

My dear Arthur,

I have gone out hunting. Not a phrase I thought any pen of mine would ever ink but nonetheless one I am very proud to finally be able to write. I am so very grateful to you for all the help and encouragement you've given me. You met me at one of my lowest points and showed me the way back to the person I really am. It pains me greatly to see your pain.

There is some money in the box on the nightstand. Please take it, I have more than I need back in the city and I'd like you to have it. Perhaps you can do some good with it or can use it to help yourself in some way.

Please take care and remain true to the man I know you are.

Yours fondly

Charlotte

He finds his thumb tracing the words ‘Yours fondly’ and quickly shakes his head. Damn fool that he is. He rereads the letter. Then looks up at the box. Should he take the money? Even if he did not use it himself, he could use it to help others.

He opens the lid and gazes down at the crisp bills inside the box. There looks to be about a hundred dollars in there. Arthur sighs and closes the lid. He’s got plenty of money and he’s trying to get rid of it by helping people. What does he need more money for now? What can he do with it when his time is rapidly running out? Better to leave it to Charlotte, so she may buy a horse or chickens or new boots, than to leave it to a man whose every step leads him closer to death.

Arthur grabs his hat from the bedside table and then reaches down to his satchel that has been left learning against the small cupboard. He pulls the bag open and takes out his journal, then slips Charlotte’s letter inside to keep it safe.

He looks around the room. There’s a chest of drawers with children’s books scattered over the surface and a pot containing some bird feathers. He walks over and picks up a leather-bound copy of fairy tales. Did these belong to Charlotte or did she hope to have a child who would sit in the small bed and read those stories under the comforting light of the gas lamp?

He looks back to the bed envisioning Charlotte resting against the bed frame, a girl cuddled next to her with dark hair and blue eyes shining with delight as Charlotte reads to her. Would she have looked up to find him in the doorway and grinned more wildly, leaping up from the bed with a shout of ‘Pa!’?

He clenches his hands into fists and pulls himself away from the thought. It’s not helpful to think that way, it’s not wise to think that way. Dreams of what could be or what might be have never helped him. Dutch’s dreams have spiralled into a hellish nightmare and even though Arthur spends most of his time encouraging everyone to leave as soon as they can, he is going to be trapped. There will only be one way out for Arthur Morgan.

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp 2021 Day 1: First Kiss

These Grandmasters have ruined my life and I am SO GRATEFUL to the wonderful, brilliant minds at @subscorp-week for making this event!!!

I don’t really post my stuff on tumblr, ever, but I wanted to shamelessly pad the subscorp tag with new content lololol

If you want to read it on AO3, the link is here.

Fic under the cut!

The sudden weight against his upper arm and shoulder startled Kuai Liang and made his hand jerk, dangerously close to dropping the tablet he held.

He glanced sharply to his side and stilled, eyes wide, to see Hanzo slumped against him.

For a brief moment, he thought the worst—that Hanzo was injured somehow, or poisoned, no matter the fact that they had been sitting in companionable silence for the better part of two hours. But he noticed the deep, slow breaths that swelled Hanzo's chest, the smooth, calm set of his features at rest, and knew the truth was far less sinister:

Hanzo had fallen asleep against him.

The realization drew Kuai Liang up short, made deep affection and gratitude swell fit to burst in his chest before he mastered himself and pushed back the sudden, fierce tide of emotion.

Carefully, Kuai Liang set aside his device and reached over to pluck Hanzo's from his limp grasp in his lap to place it on the table before them. They had been going over reports from their clans, compiling the information so that they could compare it against those from General Blade, and they often met to do this; it was dull and mind-numbing at times, but easier to accomplish with company, they'd found, and they were both less likely to procrastinate the work if they did it together.

It wasn't uncommon that such tedious work would stretch into the long hours of the night, and this night was no exception. But this was the first time Hanzo had succumbed to his exhaustion.

And he'd done so in Kuai Liang's presence, no less. The swell of pride could not be wrangled, nor the way he relished this simple, profound display of unthinking trust. It spoke to a level of peace and contentment Kuai Liang had never thought to gain from him, a man who had once been his enemy, a man who had once wished him dead. The ink had dried on their treaty long ago, but it felt as if only now it had cemented.

Kuai Liang cherished every new facet of Hanzo he saw in the days since their alliance, and this proved to be no different. He'd seen Hanzo meditate many times, had even joined him, but he'd never seen him truly in repose.

He knew he should wake Hanzo, call their meeting to a close and encourage him home, but Kuai Liang never claimed not to be a selfish man. It was wrong, undoubtedly, to knowingly linger in a moment of Hanzo's vulnerability, but the warmth of his body pressed close, the soft brush of his hair against his shoulder—he was too compelling.

He had half-expected Hanzo to stir when he'd plucked the tablet from his grasp, but he truly seemed dead to the world. Kuai Liang, hesitant and curious, carefully brought up his arm, gently brushed a lock of hair from across Hanzo's face back over his shoulder where it had come loose from the bun—and still, Hanzo peacefully slumbered on, undisturbed.

A smile twitched on Kuai Liang's lips, a private one of unbearably plain affection. He would never be caught with such an expression, but here, alone in the small hours of the night, he allowed himself this moment.

Hanzo's hands, open and limp in his lap, were another temptation altogether—but he did not dare. He had been lucky, thus far, but he would not be foolhardy.

Only this, Kuai Liang told himself. Such a rare moment of reliance from the normally so disciplined Grandmaster—only extreme overwork and exhaustion had pushed Hanzo this far, and once he woke, Kuai Liang knew this incident would be the only one of its kind.

His heart ached in his chest, bruised and bittersweet, but Hanzo's friendship was something he would not give up for the world.

But the knowledge this moment may very well be the only one that he would ever experience Hanzo's closeness—outside of, perhaps, a spar—gave him courage. Enough that he pressed his lips—just the slightest bit of pressure—to the top of Hanzo's head; his first and last confession.

He regretted the motion the instant it was over. Immediately, he felt the change in the air, the sudden tension in Hanzo's body as he stiffened. It made Kuai Liang respond in kind, utterly still, face drained of blood.

For a moment, they both lingered in that horrible stillness, the silence screaming with panic and dread.

Then, very, very slowly, Hanzo raised his head from Kuai Liang's shoulder. His dark eyes were difficult to meet, but Kuai Liang would not balk, not even from this.

Aside from lifting his head, Hanzo did not move, did not burst into flame or send Kuai Liang crashing through the wall as he half-expected. Yet it was almost worse, somehow, the way he stirred, brows furrowed, expression dark and wary.

Slowly, voice still sleep-roughened, Hanzo spoke.

"...Did you just kiss me."

There was no question, only a flat, emotionless statement that filled Kuai Liang with dread and made him wish dearly for the blow he'd expected.

Mouth dry, already seeing their friendship dissolve before his eyes, Kuai Liang said, just as quietly, "Yes."

Hanzo's eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected the confirmation despite knowing the truth.

He blinked. He searched Kuai Liang's face, but if he was seeking doubt or teasing, or even a lie, Kuai Liang had nothing of the sort to show him, only brutal, unvarnished honesty.

Hanzo glanced away and Kuai Liang braced himself for anything—a gentle rejection, a reprimand. Perhaps only a burst of flame and scorch marks left behind in the spot Hanzo sat.

A quiet breath, and Hanzo met his eyes, the set of his features determined and impassioned.

"Do it again," he commanded.

Kuai Liang was like a mountain, so absolute was his stillness. It was his turn to search Hanzo's face for deception, but there was none to be found, only fire, only a dark smolder—familiar and foreign at once, a dare, a challenge, a promise.

Kuai Liang did not dare try Hanzo's patience with indecision. He forced himself from the tight draw of his body, reached out, fingertips whisper-soft against the short hairs of Hanzo's beard.

"Yes, Grandmaster," Kuai Liang murmured.

For all that he'd longed for a moment such as this, Kuai Liang was unwilling to rush, eager as he was. He pressed his forehead to Hanzo's, soaked in the brush of their noses, of Hanzo's warm breath on his lips, the exquisite expectation that hung in the air, that made his heart slam against his ribs and his hands tremble with the repressed urge to snatch Hanzo close and never let him go—before he came to his senses and realized what he had asked for in his surely sleep-addled state.

But the anticipation compromised years of disciplined training and impatience won out. Kuai Liang tilted his head, just slightly, and kissed Hanzo.

One touch, and Kuai Liang understood why the Lin Kuei had once forbidden attachment. The swell of desire, of aching, near-obsessive addiction, was swift and all-encompassing. Hanzo's lips were warm and dry, just as tentative as his own as they met and parted and met again. And when Hanzo's touch came, one strong fist grasping at the fabric across his chest, Kuai Liang could not stop the tide of fierce, craving want.

Hanzo sucked in a sharp breath when Kuai Liang suddenly surged forward and pushed him back, but he did not resist being pressed to the floor. His arms wrapped around Kuai Liang's shoulders, helped erase even the illusion of distance as their chests met and they sank into one another. Their lips grew bolder, the kiss grew deeper, and it was as if the only air to be had was only what could be found in the other.

Kuai Liang could conceive of nothing more entrancing than the slight hitch of Hanzo's breath when their tongues touched, no sound more seductive than his quiet moans, coaxed out by Kuai Liang's own hands, by his own touch. Nothing had ever enthralled him like the sensation of Hanzo's body, strong and pliant and laid out, willingly, beneath his, nor the silky caress of Hanzo's long hair when he dragged his fingers through it.

Kuai Liang did not regret the reformation of his clan, but for the first time since he'd become Grandmaster, he reflected on the old ways with new understanding. Because this? This bottomless desire, that coaxed all reason from his mind and consumed him absolutely? It felt too good not to be forbidden.

At long last, the annoying, persistent need to breathe pulled their lips away, although they barely strayed more than a few inches as they panted.

Kuai Liang could not drag his eyes away from the rosy flush of Hanzo's skin, the soft flutter of his eyelashes when he opened them, so swept in their passion and only now brought back to reality.

They watched one another a moment, the only sounds to be heard their harsh breaths and the mad thunder of Kuai Liang's heart.

Then, slowly, Hanzo smiled. Pleasure warmed his face into an expression of quiet, almost shy happiness Kuai Liang had never seen before—a smile Kuai Liang had caused.

And when he pressed his lips to Hanzo's again, amidst his low chuckles of happiness, Kuai Liang was smiling, too.

[wisteriashouse]

massage.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw

word count: 3671

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” 

You’re bustling about the room, a lit match in your hand as you move to light the scented candles you’d set up earlier in the day. These had been a gift from Shinobu, designed for soothing and relaxation, and you’d been saving them to use when Kyoujurou is around. When the last candle is lit, you blow out the match and turn around to smile at the man watching you from the bedding, dressed in his loose sleeping robes and hair still damp from his bath earlier.

The sight warms you up from the inside, it’s been so long since he’s last been home, and you’ve always felt that your bedding was a little too cold and too big for you alone. You step forward and press a kiss to his cheek, and his arms reach up immediately to encircle your waist, pulling you closer.

“Of course I know, but I want to.” You tell Kyoujurou lightly as he holds your gaze, golden eyes clear and honest. “You’ve worked hard for the last few days, and your muscles must be sore from battling demons. Let me take care of you.”

He’s always spoiled you rotten with affection, buying you anything you desire even if you’ve only talked about it in passing, showering you with pet names and compliments. If only a little, you want to do the same for him, which is why when he’d mentioned his shoulders being sore earlier, you’d jumped on the opportunity to give him a massage.

After a moment, Kyoujurou finally relents with a hum. “Alright, then. Thank you for doing this, darling.” He releases you from his grasp and you tell him to take off his clothes and lie on his front, before turning around to make sure you have everything you need ready.

Massage oil, check. Scented candles, check. Experience, not so much, but you’re sure you’ll get better with practice!

The slight fragrance of lavender and wisteria wafts over to you as you pick up the bottle of massage oil, pouring some of it out onto your hands. As instructed by Kanroji, you let it warm between your palms, humming a quiet song to yourself as you wait for it to reach body temperature. Behind you, there’s the sound of fabric rustling, Kyoujurou’s soft, even breathing like music to your ears. He’s home.

“I’m done.” He announces behind you, his voice warm and quiet in a way that it is only around you and Senjurou. You turn around to see him on his front, body naked and completely bare before you, bright hair done up in a messy man bun, a few strands already falling out of it. Kneeling next to him, you quietly study the man before you.

The two of you have bedded before, but you’ve never had the opportunity to experience him in this way, his body completely stretched out in front of you to admire. Broad shoulders, lightly tanned skin, strong arms and a beautiful heart. Those things are what makes up Rengoku Kyoujurou, the Flame Pillar, and he’s chosen to give all that of himself to you.

“Darling?” You glance up in surprise to see Kyoujurou peering back at you, looking a little confused as to why you haven’t started doing anything yet. “Is something the matter?”

You shake your head. “No, nothing. Just admiring you.” You say honestly as you place your hands on his back. His skin is pleasantly warm under your touch, and you move to spread the lavender scented oil over the broad expanse of his back. You swear you catch a tiny quirk of Kyoujurou’s lips at your words before he turns back to rest his cheek on his arms. 

Running your hands up to his shoulders, you grip them tight and begin to work your thumbs into the knots there slowly. His back is thickly corded with lean muscle, and you’re careful not to press too hard.  At the firm pressure, Kyoujurou lets out a long, drawn out sigh and sags into the bedding beneath you, as if every limb of his has gone boneless. “Feels good...” He murmurs, and you fight the urge to smile.

“I learned from Kanroji-san.” You tell him as you continue to knead his back. “She told me a lot about you when you were younger and training her to become a member of the Corps. Apparently, you were a slave driver who wouldn’t let her eat, and she had to wait for Senjurou to come with snacks before you would let her take a break.”

A warm chuckle bubbles from Kyoujurou’s chest, and you can feel the vibrations of his laughter against your palms. “Well, she wasn’t wrong. One needs exceptional discipline to become a Demon Slayer, and now she’s become a Pillar. She’s turned out to be an exceptional Slayer.” You press the heel of your palm into his back muscles and a soft groan escapes him. “Ahh... there. It feels good.” 

“You’ve turned out wonderfully too, Kyoujurou.” You say, your fingers brushing his ribs as your hands trail down his back. He shivers a little, and you can feel goosebumps racing over his skin. “So very kind and very strong.”

He doesn’t reply, but the hum he lets out sounds pleased at your praise. You let your fingertips wander across the canvas of his back, stopping to trace some of the bone white scars left on his skin. You sometimes wonder where these had come from, a younger Kyoujurou facing a demon for the first time, a training session, or perhaps a simple injury from learning how to wield a sword for the first time. There are all stories about Kyoujurou that you want to learn one day, and you kiss each scar you find gently as your fingers map out his back.

“Is this what’s supposed to happen during a massage?” You look up to Kyoujurou peeking at you from the front, eyes bright as he watches you caress his back. Startled, you draw back, intent on carrying on the massage after being caught distracted, but Kyoujurou catches your wrist and brings it back to his skin. “No, it feels good. Please keep doing it.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes, amusement tucked in the corner of his grin.

A small laugh escapes you and you reach out to smack his behind. His chest shakes with laughter and the sound of it fills the room with warmth. “It was supposed to be a massage, Kyoujurou.”

His eyes twinkle gold as he sits up, wearing nothing but the smile on his face. “I don’t see the problem here.” He holds out his arms to you and you move straight into them without a moment of hesitation, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding him tight. “I missed you.” He murmurs as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he sucks lightly on your lobe, and you squirm in his grasp. One of his large hands reach up to undo the tie of your robe, but before he can do so, you smack his hands away.

“Kyoujurou!”

He pauses in nipping the soft skin of your neck to meet your eyes, thankfully giving you the time you need to regain your focus. You narrow your eyes as he meets your gaze innocently. “I wanted tonight to be about you, Kyo.”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, and the second your words sink in, you see the sheer happiness painting itself on his face in the form of a purely radiant smile. “I have the most beautiful woman in my arms.” Kyoujurou says lightly, lifting up a few strands of your hair to his lips and kissing them. His eyes shine as he looks at you. “Isn’t tonight already all about me?”

You flush, embarrassment dancing on your cheeks and you bury your face in his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant!” You feel his laughter against your cheek.

“Well, if you want to be in control tonight,” Kyoujurou leans backwards until his back is touching the sheets of the bedding, and you open your eyes to see that you’re straddling him, hands on either side of his head as he smiles up at you. “How about this?”

You swallow at the sight of him naked beneath you, a little embarrassed but curious. He’s always been the one pleasuring you, even when you’re on top of him. It’s a new experience, but it’s something that you want to try. “Is this... okay?” You ask shyly, almost hesitant. Kyoujurou laughs and gives you a firm nod of his head.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He traces your cheek with a hand and beams up at you. “I trust you, my dear flame.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod, easing yourself back so that you’re straddling him more comfortably. “Hands above your head, Kyoujurou.” You tell him, shifting his arms back so that he’s completely exposed to you, his wrists crossed and pressed into the bedding. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you to, I don’t want you distracting me like just now. Keep your hands to yourself, alright?”

He gives you a puppy-esque tilt of the head. “That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” But he listens anyway, settling back against the pillows to watch you with warm, affectionate eyes.

You try to remember how Kyoujurou always starts things off - by kissing you, soothing you, telling you that you’re beautiful here and there to make sure you’re comfortable with him. Leaning over, you press your lips to his, no teeth or tongue, just gentle pressure as if you’re trying to burn the feeling of his lips onto yours. 

“I love you,” you murmur against his mouth, your fingers tracing indiscernible patterns on his bare chest. Kyoujurou hums in response, golden eyes flickering open to watch you. “You’re so precious to me.”

A happy noise escapes him and you move your lips down, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses along his jawline. At this, a soft exhale leaves his mouth and he tilts his head back so that you have better access to his throat. Pleased at his responsiveness, you scrape your teeth against his adam’s apple before you suck hard at the delicate skin there, earning a soft yelp of surprise from the Pillar beneath you.

You pull away to see the beginnings of a red mark blossoming on his skin. Kyoujurou looks up at you with clear surprise in his eyes and a slight flush painting his cheeks, he��d probably never expected you to be so bold. “Darling, you-”

“I’m sorry.” You squeak out, mortified. Kyoujurou has left marks on you before, but you’ve never really done the same. Did you perhaps do it wrong, somehow? “How about we just... not do this-”

“Do it again.” He breathes, and you pause for a second, unsure if you’ve heard him right. When you look up at him, Kyoujurou’s looking at you with dark eyes, a different, more desperate sort of want you’ve never seen him wear before on his face. “Darling, please.”

Obediently, you bend down to trace the dip of his collarbones with your tongue, flicking at the corners and nipping at the skin there. A long, low moan leaves Kyoujurou’s lips as he shivers, and you follow the goosebumps that race across his chest with a fingernail. “Does it feel good?” You whisper and Kyoujurou laughs, a strained sound that turns into a breathless gasp when your mouth closes around a nipple. “Does it?” He repeats. “Of course it does, my love.”

A fire stoked in your belly by his words, you lave attention on his chest, paying special devotion to the bone white scars on his tanned skin, whispering words of thanks for making Rengoku Kyoujurou the man he is today while he pants softly, cheeks dusted a soft pink from your praise. Your hand slides down his body to reach the hard lines of his abdomen, and you trace the tip of your tongue along the ridges, swirling around his naval for a brief moment before dipping your tongue into it.

To your surprise, a bitten off moan escapes him, his entire body tensing up at your touch. His fingers flex but his hands otherwise remain above his hand, pressed tightly into the bedding.

“Sweet one,” Kyoujurou begs, and you watch the pleading expression on his face with great fascination. This is why Kyoujurou loves having you under him so much, you think. “Please, stop teasing me. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

It’s only then that you see his cock, erect and flushed red in the dim candlelight between his legs. This is familiar territory for you, and you decide to play around a little before giving him what he wants. You want to drag this out as long as possible for him, after all.

Kyoujurou groans low in his chest when you kiss down his hipbone, nestling yourself comfortably between his legs. “Darling.” He says, pleading, when he sees your mouth everywhere except where he needs it most. Your eyes dance with shy amusement, before you lean down and give the sensitive inside of his thigh a playful nip. His breath catches in his throat.

“I want to hear you say it.” You whisper, eyes fixed on his. Kyoujurou swallows, even harder when he hears the words he has so often said to you. Clearly growing impatient with him, you lean down again to suck at a spot even higher up his thigh, before you catch the skin between your teeth and tug at it.

His head falls back, a shaky pant leaving his mouth. I might have awakened a beast, he thinks to himself as his head spins, your teeth teasing and tugging along his inner thighs. His cock aches, painfully hard. “Please, my love, put your mouth on me.”

A tiny smile of satisfaction dances on your lips before you open your pretty mouth, your wet tongue flicking across the head and Kyoujurou shudders. His moan is trapped in his chest, but he barely has time to regain his breathing before you’re leaning forward, hands wrapped around his thighs before you sink your mouth down on his neglected cock. 

The pleasure hits him like a punch to the gut, twisting in his belly with all the grace of a beast. He breathes hard through clenched teeth, head falling back as he tries his hardest not to buck upwards into your mouth. For all his effort, you seem to be determined to drive him to borderline insanity instead, raking your nails down the inside of his thighs so that he writhes beneath you, the muscles of his thighs tensing under your touch.

You clearly find this amusing, because Kyoujurou can feel your laughter around his cock and he jerks as a wave of pleasure washes over him, fire licking at him as his toes curl. His hands desperately want to bury themselves in your hair, to push your head further down on him but he resists the urge, fingers twisting in the sheets so tightly his knuckles go white.

“Darling.” He manages to choke out, his voice a breathy whine he’s never heard before leaving his mouth. “Move. Please move.”

You look more confident now, one finger tracing the skin stretched over his pelvis before you take him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly. Kyoujurou’s eyes roll back as a stream of moans escape him, shallowly thrusting into the sweet clasp of your mouth. You hum around him and he nearly comes right then and there, thighs trembling as he looks hazily at you through half lidded eyes, hips rocking uncontrollably. He tries, he really does, but right now he’s not sure he’s in full control of his body, completely intoxicated by you.

He’s close.

He’s so close, and you pull off him the second you feel him shift beneath you.

Kyoujurou lets out a soft cry of protest, writhing under you to try to get some friction, his mind having abandoned him. However, you lean over to press chaste, sweet kisses to his hairline even as he shudders in your grasp, ragged pants escaping him and his chest heaving uncontrollably. He’s been brought to the brink before only to deny himself, it’s not something he hasn’t experienced before. But in those times, he’s always been in control, and now he feels as though he’s dangling off the edge of a cliff, nothing but your touch holding him together. 

“Breathe, Kyoujurou.” You murmur into his ear, stroking the damp strands of hair back from his forehead. It’s only then that he realises how hard his heart is thumping in his chest, how tense every muscle in his body is. He forces himself to take deep breaths, driving oxygen to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Breathe. “Do you want to continue?”

The familiar question he’s always asked you echoed from your lips grounds him enough to settle, and he allows his body to relax against the sheets with a soft laugh. “It feels good, my love.” He nuzzles your hair with his lips. “You’re doing so well. I love you.”

You smile shyly at his praise, before you nod and kiss his lips. “I love you too.” You hum before you take his cock in your hand, your grasp firm as you stroke it. Kyoujurou moans against your mouth, arching his back to press closer to you. You shift above him, knees on the bedding either side of his hips, before dropping the robes that you’re wearing.

Kyoujurou’s eyes feast on you hungrily, his own tongue darting out to lick his lips. You smile at the sight, positioning the head of his cock against your dripping folds and he watches you with those earnest eyes, only focused on you. Very slowly, you sink down and him, your gaze fixed on his expression as he enters you.

A choked moan escapes his throat as his head falls back to reveal the marks you’ve left on his neck, his hair finally falling out of the tie he’d put it in earlier to splay across the pillow. You feel yourself clench at the sight, leaning forward to kiss him as you take a moment to adjust to his girth, your own fingers buried in his hair while his twitch helplessly above his head.

“Move.” Kyoujurou begs, his voice desperate and cracked at the edges. “I need you to move, my love.”

You begin to rock above him, feeling him slide in and out of you at a slow, leisurely pace. He fills you again and again, his breathy moans of your name preserved in your heart as he bucks his hips up into you, begging you to go faster, to take him deeper. You’ve never been able to deny him, and you aren’t about to start now, so you take a deep breath and begin to fuck yourself on him, feeling him bruise your walls in the most pleasurable way possible. Kyoujurou almost keens beneath you as he thrusts up into you, and you will every expression he makes to be sealed in your mind forever so you never forget them, you own breathing ragged as your own orgasm catches up with you.

But Kyoujurou. Kyoujurou hasn’t cum yet. He’s shaking in your grasp, head tossed back as moans and cries spill from his lips unchecked, punctuated with sobs of your name. Your heart burns for the man beneath you, and you once again swear to give this man everything you can; not just for tonight.

Redoubling your efforts, you stave off your own orgasm, determined to bring him pleasure first, like he’s always done for you. Your thighs ache, sweat dripping down your jaw, but you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him messily on the lips to distract yourself, a sob of your own escaping your mouth as pleasure sets you aflame. 

“I love you.” You vow, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his eyelids, anywhere you can reach. “I love you more than anything else in the world, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou gasps, and you feel him tugging you down so that your mouth is on his once more, one of his hands cradling the back of your head to press the two of you closer together. With one more quick, sharp thrust that has you writhing in his hold, Kyoujurou shudders uncontrollably, his hips driving into yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.

You cling to him tightly and let yourself fall apart with a soundless scream, fingernails biting painfully into his shoulders. Pleasure consumes you, a scorching fire in your veins, reducing all thought to ash and leaving cinders in its wake. As the waves of pleasure ebb and leave you trembling in their wake, in the back of your mind, you can feel someone stroking your hair.

You don’t know how long you simply lie there, but when enough pieces of your mind put themselves together once more, you’re on Kyoujurou’s chest, feeling his fingers gently winding through your hair.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

You look up to see Kyoujurou smiling at you, exhausted but practically glowing with joy, a gentle flush still on his cheeks and chest. You give him a weak smile in return, curling up on his chest, resting your cheek above his heart. You can hear his heart beating there.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“You were amazing, my love.” He scatters kisses over the crown of your head, his fingertips warm against your scalp. His voice is hoarse, brimming with happiness. “Thank you very much for this gift, although it did render your original plan of a massage quite fruitless.”

At the reminder, you groan, burying your face into his chest as Kyoujurou laughs. “I might need a massage instead of you.” You can already feel the beginning of an ache in your thighs and back. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

“It’s no problem! I’ll carry you.” Kyoujurou says brightly. “I can give massages too! I could not say it back earlier, but,” His smile softens, but does not dim in its radiance in the least. “I love you too, darling.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, heart swelling with so much emotion you could cry. 

“Forever.” You whisper, and seal your promise with a kiss.

[yyparkq]

milk

“What the hell are you doing here again, Jackson?” you groaned when you saw him sprawled across your sofa, busy scrolling on his phone before you walked in on him inside your own apartment. Without looking back and waiting for an answer, you walked straight to the kitchen.

Jackson immediately rose to his feet upon hearing your voice, his eyes raking your whole body darkly. “You know why I’m here. Your roommate’s having a little too much fun of her own with mine,” he answered, licking his lips as he watched you saunter to the fridge and slightly bend your torso to reach for a jug of milk.

When you turned around, Jackson was already standing on the other side of the breakfast island, blatantly watching your legs with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smirk tugging on one corner of his lips. You looked down at yourself and realized instantly the reason for his smug face—you are only donning a pair of lace panties and a loose cropped top with your long black hair upped in an overly messy bun.

Jackson slowly called out your name, licking his lips and brushing his hair with his hand in the process. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Unbothered, you placed the glass on the marble counter and poured yourself a good amount of milk to help you find sleep for another night. Sleep doesn’t come and stay with you for more than a couple of hours—3 at most—these days and you’re not keen on taking medications to fix it just yet so you’re sticking to the conventional way of enticing sleep back to your system.

“Of course I am. I knew exactly you were coming over at this hour so I purposely almost stripped naked in my own house for your eyes to see,” you smarted, each word laced with a mix of annoyance and sarcasm. You immediately regretted the words though, realizing it’s not his fault he was being thrown under the bus by your roommates.

Jackson braced his arms on the counter, leaning over and studying your face. “Rough night, babe?” he asked and you took a good look at him. He’s got his sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons of his navy blue shirt unfastened—flaunting a good portion of his veiny forearm and muscular chest. By the way he was dressed, you can tell he came straight from his office. Shadows under his eyes slightly visible as the weight of the whole week finally wash over him.

“I’m not your friend, Jackson. Don’t you have anyone else to bother your ass with at this hour?” you chided, still feigning annoyance after downing a mouthful of milk. You’re exhausted and wanted to just plop down your bed and drift to sleep. The last thing you could have wished right now is to argue with a Jackson Wang.

Your forehead creased at his unbothered reaction.

With a sharp click of his tongue, his hand darted across space between you two and settled on your lips. Thumbing the corner of your mouth gently, he wiped the remnants of the milk off of you and stared darkly into your eyes.

You sighed and confided how tired you are but couldn’t sleep at all. Tiring yourself out doesn’t prove to be an effective solution for you as you have already went for a run, did a few sets of cardio, and tried breathing exercises—all still resulted in an hour or two of tossing and turning on your bed.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jackson quipped.

It took you a moment to grasp what he’s trying to say.

Jackson licked his lips and smirked, “I could help you relax like the last time, you know.”

Cocky little bastard. You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away from your face. “Oh god, will you please stop,” your cheeks instantly turned crimson at his mere words and you had to fight the urge to bite your lip and moan at the memory of him relentlessly pounding on you in every corner of your bedroom and rendering you limp the next day for work.

Rounding off the breakfast island, he grabbed your waist and hoisted you on one of the high chairs. “That’s not what you said when you were taking me so well that night,” he murmurs at the corner of your lips where his thumb has been on a moment ago. He found purchase standing between your legs. Your arms instantly linking around his shoulders when he started kissing you. His hands caressing your exposed hips.

Meeting Jackson is inevitable since you both live with your best friends—slash—roommates in the big city. Jackson simply couldn’t stand hearing your friend’s endless, loud moans from the other room without being utterly disgusted. He tried to pry it off the first few instances until he couldn’t anymore. But thanks to that one time the four of you went to a party sharing a car. When his friend insisted to carpool and pick up his girl from your home, Jackson took the opportunity to take note of your address for escape in the future. What he didn’t know is that there is you—a roommate like himself—in the picture, after all.  Cocking an eyebrow, he looked at you incredulously as you slid onto the passenger’s seat beside him. You mirrored his expression, frustrated enough to attend another boring party during the weekends.

As you have expected, the party bored you to death. A couple of familiar faces and empty conversations were shared and with the last look on your best friend’s direction who was now openly making out with his boyfriend, you cringed and made your way out of the place, your fingers instantly working trying to get yourself a car ride home. You decided the party is definitely a bad idea.

On the other hand, Jackson’s eyes never left yours. He easily recognized the disinterest in your eyes from the beginning and he was more than ready to drive you back home in an instant—which was totally unlike him since he’s usually the last man to leave at any party. When you got up and out the door, he was immediately on your heels. He pressed his car keys and you almost jolted when the car in front of you beeped loud, followed by an enormous body from your back reaching for the car door. When you turned around, you saw Jackson smiling. His face illuminated by the street lights and faint flashing party lights from the house. You were so clouded by your annoyance in the car ride to the party earlier that you failed to appreciate Jackson’s handsome face and now you decided there’s at least one good thing out of this boring day, and that is meeting this cocky guy in front of you.

Jackson’s hands were busy kneading your perky bust and ass when you pulled a fistful of his hair, creating a space between your faces desperate for oxygen. He looked at you, gasping for air, before latching his mouth to your exposed neck, sucking and licking all your sweet spots all the way to your mounds, earning loud moans from you. He placed kisses on top of the thin material covering your breasts. “You look so fucking good in this,” he growled into your ear. “I want you to keep it on while I fuck your brains out, baby girl.”

Between your legs, you are soaked and the friction against Jackson’s pants is making it harder for you. You whimpered at the lack of action and guided his hand where you needed him the most. Jackson chuckled darkly at your boldness. “Cat’s got your tongue, my princess? You know you need to tell me what you need.”

You gritted your teeth at his game. “God damn it, Jackson. Just shove your fucking dick in my cunt, will you,” you muttered under your breath. Not patient enough to play with his games.

His hands finally went between your legs and pushed your panties to the side. He looked at your face as he dipped a finger into your folds—as if testing if you’re wet enough for him—and started drawing circles on your clit. You shamelessly sang Jackson’s name like a prayer. His ministrations rapidly increasing the tension in your stomach. You ground your hips onto his hands, your eyes wincing shut at the feeling.

“I’ll fuck you so hard in this little kitchen so the next time you step foot in here to get your precious milk, you will remember my cum inside your pussy dripping onto this seat instead,” he growls into your ears as he brought you to climax. “How do you like that, baby?” he taunted you, licking your earlobe.

“You talk too much,” you moaned and reached to palm his dick over his pants.

Jackson groaned at the action and rutted his hips onto your hands. His pace increased, desperate to bring you over the edge and finally sheath himself inside you, causing you to erratically work on him. You shuddered under his hands and reached your climax, but he hasn’t slowed down his actions. You squirmed and twisted under him from oversensitivity but the ruthless man in front of you just continued his ministrations.

“Damn, Jackson—” you panted. “I can’t—fuck.”

“You can, baby. Cum again. Shit. Cum again on my fingers.”

It didn’t take you long before doing so. You thought you might pass out anytime soon until you felt Jackson’s arm supporting your upper body. You opened your eyes and saw him retrieve his hand from your core, gathering your liquid essence through his fingers and bringing it to his mouth for a taste. He sucked his fingers clean and kissed you, letting you taste yourself.

He broke the kiss after a while, “Sleep kicking in yet?”

You shook your head unzipped his pants. “Probably not until you cum inside of me, big boy.”

[lumau]

This week has been sth else, so I apologize for a lack of editing. Before this whole story goes up on ao3, I’ll give it all another polish. I wanted to get sth sweet out there, hopefully changing the rest of this week for the better... so this has all the fluff. :)

This comes after the events at the beach, here: https://lumau.tumblr.com/post/658330266893434881/a-small-sunday-treat-interlude-ao-shun-in-skimpy

❄🖤🤍❄

Li Ming followed the king down the corridor leading to his private rooms. Ao Shun had not seemed to want to dismiss him yet, so he simply went along.

After the walk on the beach the king had shown himself brooding, and not another word was lost about the somewhat odd end of their conversation. Li Ming was still turning the thoughts over in his mind, when they reached the entrance flanked by a pair of guards. Ao Shun turned to him, as if only now noticing that he was still behind him.

“Ah, Li Ming,” he said, “I will retire early, and should not keep you. However, as you are here now, I would ask you to do my hair for the night. I am not entirely satisfied with the way Xiao has been doing it lately.”

Li Ming gave a polite bow. 

“Of course, my lord. I will speak to Xiao tomorrow.”

Li Ming graciously set down the little tray and unfolded the white towel across the king’s shoulders. He had not been entirely surprised when Ao Shun offered him another task, one that would not involve the presence of other staff. He had done his lord’s hair numerous times before, mostly when they were traveling, but the familiar movements seemed to gain a different quality to him now.

He took a deep breath and steadied his hand, when he reached out to undo the long braid, parting the strands with his fingers, loosening them with care. He looked down on Ao Shun’s back. The way he was perched on the leather and chrome ottoman he seemed suddenly small, so much more tangible and real. Of course nothing about him had changed - he was still the immortal king, the feared and beloved dragon god of legends, eternal, majestic and untouchable. The only difference was in his own perception. Those new, less and less subtle thoughts, the sudden wish to run his hands over his shoulders in front of him and the suspicion that his touch would be welcomed even. Maybe, if he offered a massage? He simply would have to reach out… 

“Li Ming.”

Li Ming felt caught, blushing at the ideas he’d just been indulging. He quickly took the intricate ebony comb from the tray and gingerly began working it through the tips of the long, black hair.

“I have been meaning to speak to you in private.” 

The low, soft tone of Ao Shun’s voice touched a part in Li Ming’s stomach and made it clench in a flutter. He focussed on combing Ao Shun’s hair, carefully, higher up. Combing it, and smoothing its soft lengths with his fingers, and combing it... If he didn’t focus on the task, he didn’t know what else he should do.

“I have been imposing my attention on you lately, acting on the attraction I feel towards you, and I presume you have become aware of it too.”

Li Ming swallowed hard. If his heart was not stuck up in his throat, making it impossible for him to bring out a word, what could he even have said to that?

Ao Shun sat completely still, looking straight ahead out of the window. Only the rise and fall of his shoulders gave a sign of his flattened breath. Somehow this little sign of agitation in the dragon king made Li Ming even more nervous. Ao Shun heaved a deep breath.

“I admit I have not done well, and my actions were not right.”

Li Ming’s hands stopped moving. Whatever he had expected, the low growl and the hint of guilt in the king's voice was not it. He stood stockstill, staring unblinkingly at the hair he was holding between his fingers.

“A man in my position needs to be aware of his influence,” Ao Shun said, solemnly, “and I have let myself get carried away, making advances on you without addressing the matter openly. You are bound by your oath to me. Naturally you would follow along with anything I ask of you. I should not have allowed myself to mingle your obligation with my personal interest.”

Unwittingly Li Ming laid the comb down and took up a crystal flask. He spread some of the mildly scented oil on his hands and once more began working them along the tips of Ao Shun’s hair in thoughtful silence. 

“Don’t you have anything to say to that?” Ao Shun spoke up again after a moment.

“My lord… I appreciate your honesty. I don’t think you have done me wrong, and you have not done anything against my will.”

Ao Shun gave a little nod, encouragingly, but Li Ming was not sure what else he could say.

“And about what else I mentioned -” Ao Shun inquired tentatively, when nothing more came from him, “About the interest I expressed in exploring a more personal contact between us…”

Li Ming continued to run his fingers through the king’s hair for a long moment. He wondered if Ao Shun could feel the slight trembling of his fingers, just like he could sense the electrified tension in his posture. He should have been prepared for this moment, after all that had happened lately. It was not out of the ordinary that royal dragons might request closer company from their subordinates. Growing up at court it was something one simply learned among other things. Yet while Li Ming had entertained the idea once or twice, and maybe slightly more often of late, none of his envisioned scenarios had involved the careful and earnest manner in which the king addressed him, or the blank space in his head where his mind should have been.

“How could I decline this from you?” he finally managed, and knew immediately that that was not the right answer. Ao Shun sharply drew in his breath and twitched his head to look over his shoulder. He frowned up at Li Ming.

“I want it to be absolutely clear that this is beyond your orders,” he growled, “If I have given you another impression, I will need to rectify it.”

Li Ming flustered. His face was starting to burn again, and he was growing desperate with himself. He had not meant it that way. Why was it suddenly so difficult to think, making it impossible for him to express himself?

“I want to know what you want, Li Ming.” 

Li Ming swallowed. The only thing he could think of to say was the truth.

“My lord, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you want?” Ao Shun asked.

“I apologise,” Li Ming said quietly and averted his eyes, “I am afraid I feel confused right now, and that is my truthful answer.” 

Ao Shun considered him for a moment, then his expression brightened again.

“Are you willing to find it out together?” he finally asked with a smile.

Li Ming blinked a little surprised, then he nodded and smiled back. The words ‘find it out together’ echoed in his mind, leaving a warmer feeling and making him more at ease. 

Ao Shun turned his head back, and Li Ming remembered suddenly that he was still holding the lengths of his hair.

“When I ask you for something that you are uncomfortable with, can I trust you to say no to me?” Ao Shun asked, his voice soft again.

“Yes, my lord,” Li Ming replied with a smile.

“And will you also ask for what you desire from me?”

There was a longer silence after that. 

“… I can try.”

Li Ming felt much less confident at that, but for now Ao Shun seemed content with his answer.

Li Ming found that he was still smiling, as he added a few more drops of oil to his hands, almost a little light-headed. The previously anxious flutter in his stomach had turned into something warmer, friendlier now.

He rested his palms on top of Ao Shun’s head, and began moving the tips of his fingers in small circles along his hairline. A head massage was not necessarily a part of his evening routine, but from the deep sigh and the slight sagging of Ao Shun’s shoulders he could tell it was appreciated.

He slowly ran his fingers along to the back, and feeling suddenly elated after their conversation, let them trail down behind the king’s ears, drawing gentle patterns on the soft skin of his neck. This was definitely not part of the regular routine. Ao Shun gave another sigh and let himself sink back against Li Ming, dropping his head slightly back to let it rest against him. Li Ming could see the serene expression on his face, his eyes closed and his lips drawn into a contented smile. He almost regretted that he had not simply said “Yes.” to his earlier question, and wondered for a second, if he would dare to ask to kiss him now.

Then Ao Shun’s smile turned into a grin, and he sat up again, the warmth and weight of his body lingering for a few more seconds where he had leaned. 

“Please, Li Ming,” he said, “don’t raise the issue with Xiao. I’d rather you do my hair every night from now on, if I get that sort of treatment.” 

The mention of Ao Shun’s attendant brought Li Ming back into reality, and made him a little awkward at having slipped from his familiar role. He gathered Ao Shun’s hair in a loose bun on his vertex and fixed it with a hairband. He felt a small sting of regret when he was done and Ao Shun stood up. The king gave him a long look from under his lashes.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and Li Ming could tell that he only partly meant it for the hairdo. Once more he felt the sudden urge to reach out, or to say something to cross the space between them, but there was the ottoman in the middle and the lump in his throat and then Ao Shun blinked, and smiled, and Li Ming knew it meant Good Night.

Sitting in his own room an hour later, he was still too agitated to go to bed. He tried reading one of the new books on his shelf, but couldn’t bring himself to focus. Too much had happened today, and he kept replaying the events in his mind, alternating between furtive excitement and coy bliss and a bit of disappointment at what felt like a missed opportunity in the end.

When he had once more been staring at a page for an unknown amount of time, a polite knock on his door made him perk up. It was Xiao, who apologized for the late disturbance, but she had been sent by Ao Shun to call him up once more. While Li Ming had already shed his tie and loosened his collar, he had luckily not bothered to get ready for bed yet.

He found Ao Shun on his balcony, cled in his black and white silk robe and looking out over the nightly panorama. Li Ming’s heart had already begun to beat faster as he entered the apartment, but now his nerves seemed to stun him once more. How could it be that he kept finding himself lost for words so often these past days, with his extensive diplomatic training and experience? 

“My lord, you required my attendance?” he said, settling on a safe, formal approach.

When Ao Shun spoke, Li Ming could hear the smile in his voice and knew it was not an official call after all.

“The sky is so full of stars tonight. I thought you might appreciate it as well.”

He turned away from the railing to look at Li Ming unblinkingly, long enough to make him feel self-conscious.

“And I thought you would look beautiful in the light of the moon. I was right.”

Li Ming felt ice and heat rush through his veins again. He distantly heard himself stammer, “Thank you, my lord, it really is a beautiful night.” He was certain that his face must have gone deep red, and hoped it wouldn’t be too visible in the bespoke moonlight.

A slightly crooked smile curled Ao Shun’s lips, as he approached him.

“Allow me to be frank, Li Ming.” 

His voice was low and soft, humming with a deep tremor underneath it. 

“I could not get you out of my head. And I wanted to kiss you.”

The words hung between them in the air for a few long seconds. Li Ming’s heart was racing. When Ao Shun held out his hand to him, he automatically took it. There was comfort in the warmth of his touch and the slight shiver he could feel in the grasp. It gave away the king’s inner tension, while his expression remained one of calm confidence.

“You have not declined or turned away yet. I take that as a positive sign?”

Ao Shun took another step closer, until they were almost touching. Li Ming could sense the familiar energy he always radiated, felt the air between them prickle with electricity. He could see his dark eyes gleaming in the low light. He had never seen them so close up. He wanted to lose himself in their depth, but Ao Shun was watching him expectantly. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Ao Shun pursed his lips into a smirk and tilted his head.

Li Ming swallowed and muttered, “Yes, please.”

It had to be his voice, as the words came from his mouth, but he did not recognise its tone. The soft smile was back on Ao Shun’s face, and when he leaned in and their lips met, Li Ming stopped thinking altogether.

As Li Ming opened the door to his private rooms, he still couldn’t stop smiling. He did not know how much time had passed, but the moon was high now and shone in through the windows.

A part of him had wondered if (and maybe even hoped that) Ao Shun would extend his invitation even further. But he had said that he wanted to kiss him, and that was what he had done. And then they kissed again, and again, and some more when Ao Shun had walked him to the door. And they had both smiled widely, and Ao Shun had thanked him before wishing him a good night.

Li Ming felt giddy and drowsy, as if walking through a dream all the way back. He was vaguely aware of a different part of his brain that would in some distant future start nagging him about all the potential trouble he was getting himself into. But for now, the only thing he could think of were the sensations of those kisses he could still feel on his lips.