#i think the concept i came up w is cool enough to try my hand at writing it but theres some plot contrivances and also ive never

[theplatypusblue]

Zane wanders into a room in The Administration, only to find that it has a pile of other Zanes in it. Hopefully nothing bad will happen to him.

Drawing of a rough concept for a fan fic a wanna try and write someday. (Weird alt color ver below the cut cuz I thought it looked cool - there are bright colors tho so be careful)

over-saturated blue my beloved <3

[degloved]

Boy Do I Fucking Ever (everyone get compfy)

strahm is one of those little meow meows characters that a part of me wishes had lived longer if only for the opportunity of gaining a better insight into their psyche. as it is, i can only work with the precious few little things we've been given (and, i guess, some personal headcanons) - but even those little morsels of info have me insane, so i guess it was sufficient

where to start. i love his self-awareness. i think that's one of the more interesting facets of this man. he is... he's the stereotype of a cop, a bit of caricature of one, if i'm being honest - he struts around like a million bucks, doesn't shy away from using aggression as he sees fit, doesn't give a fuck about protocol, becomes... so deeply obsessed with the case that it drives him a bit mad - and yet he's self aware. we know he's self aware primarily because one little scene, one little scene that loops around my head like a broken record: when, prior to one of the jill interrogation rounds, he unloads his gun and hands the bullets over to perez - because he Knows he's gonna wave that thing like a maniac, he knows he's gonna lose his cool, he knows he's gonna resort to aggression, like he always does. and it's the fact that he Knows that makes me lose my mind a lil in turn. it's the way he understands that his ways aren't exactly ideal, but he won't change. i love characters who won't change, be it out of stubbornness or something else. strahm is digging his heels in, he's content playing the aggressive cop until hell freezes over, he's perfectly happy in this role and will not budge - but all the same, safety first <3. it's so. i'd even go so far as to call it a gentle cognitive dissonance, maybe even some type of compartmentalization

(is he aggressive, though? maybe. maybe not. we don't know enough about him to say with certainty, but it could go either way. maybe he's really not all that much of a hothead, maybe he wants to make himself out to be worse than he actually is. maybe he's trying to uphold a certain image. maybe he thinks it's the only thing he's good at. maybe he's been putting up the act for so long that it really just Is who he is rn. or maybe he really just is a man with a horrendously bad temper, with his fists out 24/7 who likes to yell and enjoys chasing fear into his suspects. was he born being 'cop material' or did he fashion himself into 'cop material'? we'll never know! but the possibilities are endless!)

and also, i just think he's gay. this is in the headcanon territory obviously, as sexualities tend to be, but i think it just fits perfectly. i was acc talking to a friend about this just the other night - i don't think strahm is repressed or even has internalized hemophobia or whatever else (which i see sometimes in the fandom), i just think he's the sort of dude that doesn't think love is in the cards for him? blame it on a homophobic environment growing up, blame it on his (self) awareness of his own tough exterior and unlikable personality, or whatever else, i think he just very early on came to terms w the fact that his future isn't gonna boil down to 2.5 kids and a picket fence. so he went the easy route, married het to please his parents, buried himself in his work, lived the Cop Life with all his being, became an agent. had his ass divorced from due to this whirlwind affair with the fbi, you know how it is. played up the Bad Cop act until it sort of became a part of his being, until he could no longer shed that second skin & he embodied the concept. kept everyone at an arm's length because, hadn't he decided at the ripe age of 20 that love wasn't for him? of course he must stubbornly cling to the concept. he's too old to change. fuck it, it's not just romantic love - friends too. the fact that perez got as close as she did is a wonder

enter hoffman. need i say anything more. for the first time in strahm's life, he Doesn't Know How To Fucking Act. but also maybe for the first time in his life, because he's almost 50 and too old for this shit damn it, he just Lets It Happen. yeah he has exactly zero experience and no one has ever really liked him for who he is (or isn't), this could end soooo badly and he could fuck it up Horrendously, but he might as well. what if he does fuck up anyway? it's fucking hoffman, who cares if he fucks up. it's fucking hoffman, whatever they have is so far removed from normal anyway that no dating experience in the world could help him navigate this. and it works. somehow it works. "works", i should say. you know??

this got soooo out of hand jesus christ xx

sawlerinas (saw tumblrinas) i am genuinely on the verge of claiming saw v is my favorite saw. like. like i cannot keep lying to myself

[ridestomars]

THE PERFECT GIRL – E. MUNSON

𖥻 summary: in which eddie makes a mixtape for you. 𖥻 pairing: eddie munson x alt!reader. 𖥻 warnings: this is part of my alt!reader concept, but can be read as a standalone. poor grammar possibly. not proofread.

💭 liv's thoughts: a big thanks to @saintlessmunson for reading my first draft <333 i only function on sudden urges and this is another one of them. just a compilation of songs that were important to the development of your relationship w eddie. it was supposed to have 5 songs, but i wrote about 3 bc i'm lazy <3 really hope you enjoy it! the fic's playlist.

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

IS THERE SOMETHING I SHOULD KNOW? do you feel the same 'cause you don't let it show

Eddie almost regretted stepping foot inside the old record shop that day, especially when the music coming from the speakers was so loud that it could be heard from across the street; the annoying sound of Simon Le Bon's voice piercing through his ears as he miserably made his way inside. Walking with his head low to keep people from staring at him, he went straight to the Weird Al Yankovic section, trying to get this over with already. 

His fingers expertly went through the selection of records, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to find whatever record Dustin didn't have because he simply didn't know what it was. It would've been so much easier if he could just gift the boy the new D&D book, or some great figures – but what could he possibly give to a kid who already has everything? His favorite artist's new album, of course. And that's what he intended to do if only he knew what his latest record was called. 

"I always took you for a Judas Priest type of weird. Didn't know you were taking a step further," a familiar voice said, getting closer. He slowly looked to his side, realizing that you were walking towards him, in your full gothic attire; a cute lacy dress, with fishnets and heavy boots, all in black, of course. Eddie wasn't really in the mood to bicker, but for you, he could make an exception. 

"It's not for me, Dracula," he muttered, still very focused on going through the endless records in front of him – half of them were just copies of the same title, which made more sense than Weird Al making so many records. "I'm buying this for Henderson. The small kid, curly hair, always with a cap". 

He absentmindedly explained, going through the kid's most striking features. 

"Yeah, I know who he is. And he already bought Polka Party last week". 

"I'm sorry?" he turned to you, a big confused frown on his face. 

"Polka Party," you repeated slowly, even though he still didn't understand what you said, "you know… his latest record? That's what you're looking for, right? Henderson already bought it."

"Shit," Eddie lamented, wincing slightly. "That's what I was going to buy him". 

"That's too bad. Maybe you should try Tiny Tim, then", you suggested and saw that Eddie contemplated the idea, before rejecting it vehemently. "Well, then I have something that he might like". 

"Yeah? And what is it?" he asked as he let go of the records, turning his body around completely to face you. 

"It's called Licensed to Ill by the Beastie Boys. It just came in, so I highly doubt that he'd have it already", you explained as you guided Eddie to the newest releases shelves. "It has everything a teenage boy would like, I guess. Beer, girls, idiotic screaming…"

"Seems cool enough. What are they? A rock band?"

"They're rappers", you said and that didn't ring any bells for the metalhead. "Oh my God, don't you watch MTV at all?" 

"Only the Heavy Metal Half-Hour. Don't really like any of the VJs", he shrugged. "Why do you sound so surprised? I mean, Duran Duran has been playing and I don't see you complaining. Aren't they out of fashion already?"

"Well, Marie's the one picking the music today, so if I say something I'd probably get fired", you put your hands up, showing that you are defenseless. "But don't you think you're a bit too close-minded?"

"Because I don't know the Beast Boys?"

"Beastie Boys", you correct him as you hand him the record. A jet is crashing into the side of a mountain on the cover, which definitely caught his attention. As he analyzed the album, you smiled lightly, finding the way his brown eyes scanned the cover to be very cute. "But it's like you live in your own little metal world… doesn't it get boring sometimes?"

"With Ozzy Osbourne? Never." he offered you a sly smile as his eyes shoot up to look at your face. 

"You know, some people wouldn't even consider Ozzy to be metal," you teased him slightly and he loudly gasps, absolutely offended by your affirmation. 

"Don't you ever say that again!"

"Oh, but I will! And I can even argue that you, Edward Munson, aren't metal at all." 

"And why is that?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Because you just said that I am a close-minded metalhead, sweetheart". 

"You know exactly what I mean! C'mon, half of the bands you like are hard rock, and I am including Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath on that list".

"Sure, Vlady." he rolls his eyes at you, walking to the nearest listening booth, with you on his tail. Eddie was already taking the vinyl out of its sleeve before asking you, "Any suggestions?"

"Rhymin' and Stealin', or No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn. They're the most metal of them". 

"Nah, no metal. 'Cause now that I am a fully open-minded person, thanks to you, I think I'll go with…" he taunted you for your fruitless try to start one of your bickerings.  "Hold It Now, Hit It". 

"Great pick", you encouraged him, even though you knew he wasn't going to like it. 

CRAZY TRAIN. i'm living with something that just ain't fair.

"Haven't you had enough of following me around, weirdo?"

"Nope. In fact, I would like to follow you some more", he answered as he keeps trailing behind you, putting up Madonna's True Blue cardboard cut-out next to the album shelves. "Killer jeans, by the way". 

"Gross," even though you tried to seem annoyed by his statement, the smile on your face betrayed you. Thank God he couldn't see it. "But I'm afraid you won't have much time to appreciate it, since I'll be leaving in… five minutes".

You said after checking your wrist clock, then helping him to stabilize the life-size Madonna on the floor. Then, you took a few steps back to appreciate the result of your teamwork.

"What? I thought you worked until five!" he exclaimed as he let go of the cardboard. The abrupt motion almost took it down, but you swiftly put it back to its original place. "Sorry".

"Stalker much?" you playfully ask, making his cheeks blush lightly. When you were finally done with the Madonna cardboard, you walked to the store's counter, leaning down to get your backpack. As you started to organize your things, you explained, "I worked overtime yesterday, so Marie is covering for me today". 

You felt his gaze follow you intensely, watching how your hands moved as you grabbed your own cassettes, your coat, and a few fanzines and stuffed them back into your bag. To be quite frank, you were actually enjoying having his attention on you, seeing the things you liked – maybe he could get to know a bit more about you by seeing your Echo and The Bunnymen tape. 

"Do you- um…" when he sees you sling your backpack on one of your shoulders, he begins to muster up the courage to ask, but as he senses your eyes on him, his voice falters a bit, "do you want a ride?"

"Is your van clean?" you asked as you start to walk towards the exit, Eddie following you closely. "I don't really feel like sitting on another pack of Doritos today".

"Fuck off", it's hard to miss the humor in his voice, "And I did. It's as good as new". 

"Alright, then. Lead the way", you say as you open the store's door. Now, you were the one following him, trying to keep up with his long, quick steps. You almost miss the van, only stopping because of Eddie's sudden stop. "Why is it blue?" 

"I painted it. Got tired of red". 

"Nice. Why don't you paint it black next time? You know, to fit your aesthetic". 

"Noted," he acknowledges your suggestion, walking up to the passenger door and opening it for you. "M'lady". 

"Thank you, good lord." you graciously answer, getting inside the (thankfully clean) van. It only takes Eddie a couple of moments to sit in the driver's seat, and he founds you curiously eyeing the whole vehicle. 

"Found any Doritos yet?"

"No, but I found this" you pick up a little zip bag that was carelessly laid on the van's floor, next to your feet. "Do you just leave this stuff all over the place? You should be more careful, you know? I heard Hopper is after your ass". 

"Jesus H. Christ!" his eyes were wide as pies as he sees the marijuana bag you held, taking it in a rush. He almost drops it as he hurriedly stuffs it in his jacket pocket. "How d'you know that?"

"It's impossible not to. Everyone loves to talk about the resident freak's latest ​​shenanigans." you smile playfully at him again, finding out that he was already staring at you, with an amused look on his face. "And when you work at a place that the whole town visits, you end up knowing lots of stuff".

"Yeah? Like what?" he starts the van, maneuvering out of its parking spot. 

"Well…" you think about it for a while, trying to remember the hottest piece of gossip you know. "Heather Maxwell was almost arrested for, one, driving while drunk and two, for having sex with Stuart Mills on her parents' car at the side of the road. Hopper was less than pleased". 

"Stuart? As in-"

"Her best friend's boyfriend, yes!" you excitedly interrupt him, and he audibly gasps as he hears the missing piece of information. 

"I always knew Heather was up to no good," Eddie commented. "I mean, wasn't she the one who spiked our middle school punch without telling anyone?"

"Yeah," you laughed, "thank God Mrs. O'Donnell confiscated it."

"Oh, but it tasted so good!" 

"You drank it?" you ask and watch him enthusiastically nod, and your eyes widen slightly, "That explains why you were dancing to the Bay City Rollers, then".

"That wasn't because I was drunk! I actually really like them".

"Shut up!"

"I'm serious!" he confirms, laughing. You lean towards him as he makes an accentuated curve, brushing shoulders lightly. "You know, bye, bye, baby, baby goodbye!" 

You laugh harder as he sings the band's song completely out of tune, and the resounding sound of your laughter quickly infected him and you both entered a long fit of giggles. After it died down, though, it wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be; comfortably sharing the silence until you motioned to the radio, and picking up on that, Eddie asked, "d'you wanna turn on the radio? I have no idea of which tape is in, though". 

"It'll be a surprise, then. I bet it's Motorhead".

"And I bet it's Dio".

"Let's see!" you pressed the on button and the beginnings of Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train filled up the whole van. Eddie's sound system always impressed you with how powerful the music reverberated through the small space. "Fuck, not even close".

"Yeah, but it's still great!" he observed, looking at you quickly, "Crazy, but that's how it goes". 

"Millions of people living as foes," you started to sing along with him, earning another glance from him, only a surprised one this time. That was enough for you to turn the music louder. 

"You know this one?"

"Hell yeah, dude! It's, like, one of his only good songs".

"No, it's not!"

"It's not a good song, you mean?" you tried to trick him, but of course, he wouldn't fall for it.

"It's one of his greatest, Y/N!" he observes, thumbs tapping against the steering wheel accompanying the beat of the song. "You know, for someone who works at a music store, you should really start appreciating Ozzy more."

"Sure, Munson." you rolled his eyes. "I've listened to preachers".

"I've listened to fools", he stepped even harder on the gas, making the van speed along the street, making dust and leaves go up in the air, trailing along. Everything about this moment made you smile; from the wind that blew right at your face to the sounds Eddie made to emulate the song's guitar.

"I've watched all the dropouts who make their own rules", you pretended to hold a microphone, and then offered it to him, letting him sing the next line into your hand. And he did it with the biggest and brightest smile on his face, dimples deepening as he mouthed the words. He looked so pretty like this, all smiles, doe eyes, and hair flowing wildly. 

To the people who watched the van speed through Hawkins' streets, you seemed like two maniacs. The laughter, screams, and out-of-tune-singing were enough for everyone to look at you as the freaks they considered you to be, not that you cared for that right now, especially when you're by Eddie's side. 

You cried out loud as you spotted your house at the end of the street. 

"Oh no! Can you go around the block? Just until the song ends, please?" you ask him, pleading almost. You were having too much fun to be interrupted now. 

"If I could, I'd drive around the whole state for you, sweetheart. But is the highway enough for you?" he asked, slowing the van down to look at you. As you nod at him, in an almost desperate manner, he laughs loudly. "Rewind the song, then!" 

Crazy, but that's how it goes…

PERFECT GIRL. i think i'm falling, i think i'm falling in…

"Hey, Y/N! Your freak is here!" Marie announces as the plops her head inside the employee's room, which made you roll your eyes in a way that you thought they wouldn't go back to their place. Your body didn't care too much about Marie's unnecessary nickname, since it was too preoccupied with reacting to the fact that Eddie was here. Your palms were suddenly sweaty and butterflies were all over the place; you doubted you could even take two steps before starting to smile like a maniac. 

"Don't call him that," you scolded her as you passed by, going directly to the store's counter. Your eyes scanned the place quickly, not taking long to spot the untamed mane of the one and only Eddie Munson, who was going through the alternative section – something that has become surprisingly normal these past few weeks. "Eds!" 

"Hey, Vlady!" he cheerily greeted you, skipping his way to the counter. "Nice earrings. Are those bats?"

"Yeah. Made them myself". 

"Could you make one for me, maybe?" Eddie put his hair behind his right ear, showing you the small silver hoop he usually wore. "I feel like it's time for a change".

"Sure thing", you offered him a sweet smile and made a (very highlighted, sparkly, shiny) mental note to make the best earring you could ever create for him. "Had fun at the alternative section?"

"Yup! In fact, I was meaning to ask you: have you listened to the new The Cure album yet?"

"No, but my friends said they liked it, so I'm excited".

"You should be. It's actually great".

"What!? You've already listened to it?" 

"Fuck yeah", he replied like it was obvious, and continued, with a taunting smile, "Now who's the one that isn't up with the news?"

"Hey! I just didn't have the time, ok? College is kicking my butt." you explained while you gathered the cassettes that were laid out on the counter. As soon as your hand touched the first one, you saw Eddie's pale hand also collecting a few – always so eager to help. "It was just a surprise, you know? You got to hear my favorite band's new album before me". 

"I'm just keeping up with the times, sweetheart. Oh, how'd you say it?" he took a while to remember the exact term you had used a while back, "Yeah, I'm opening up my horizons". 

"You're such a weirdo", you rolled your eyes before handing him a Frank Sinatra tape, a identical copy to the ones he was organizing. 

"Thanks" he muttered, "Like the gloves, by the way. Very metal… or should I say, totally goth?"

"Shut up" you giggled and moved out of the counter, on your way to put the tapes in their usual place. You heard Eddie's boots thumping loudly against the floor, meaning that he was following you. 

"You know, I came here to give you something".

"What?" you suddenly turn around, in surprise, and drop a few tapes when you crash right into his chest. And before you can lean down to catch them, he has already collected all of them and is standing up slowly, in a way that makes you hold your breath; his hair actually brushes against the hem of your skirt, lifting it up slightly, and you're pretty sure you felt his knuckles graze lightly against your knee. And then, he's standing close… dangerously so. You can actually feel his warm breath against your face, the small puffs of air hitting you as he talks... and you don't pay attention to a single word he said. "I-I'm sorry?"

"I said it's a gift," even though you were pretty sure Eddie would find the whole situation amusing and make fun of you for being so strange, he isn't. And he seems to be just as affected as you are, with burning red cheeks. "You know, a thing that one person gives to another as a token of their appreciation?" 

"I know what a gift is, dumbass. I just don't understand why you would give me something". 

"I just explained it to you, Dracula. A token of my appreciation." he smiles softly at you, his dimples showing. You did your best to actually organize the cassettes instead of just throwing them everywhere, but that didn't matter right now, not when Eddie was searching his pockets looking for something; your gift. Then, he handed you a small tape, very similar to the ones you were just holding. "It has one of The Cure's new songs in it… it really reminded me of you. So it would be nice if you listened to it." 

"Sure", you couldn't fight the big smile that appeared on your face, feeling your face heat up as your fingertips brushed against his hand as you took the cassette. "I'll listen to it today, and then I'll call you and tell you what I think, yeah?"

"Perfect". 

+++

As soon as you stepped foot in your bedroom, you didn't wait another second before plopping the tape into your boombox and anxiously fast-forwarding it until you stumbled upon Robert Smith's sped-up voice. You felt bad for not paying attention to the little details Eddie put into it, like the adhesive tape he glued and the name of the mixtape, but you just couldn't wait – couldn't even waste time listening to the other tracks, really, too set upon hearing the new song. Acting like that, it may seem that you've never had a mixtape made for you before, but it was quite de contrary: your friends made you tapes all the time, but this... this was different. This was Eddie's tape. And that was reason enough to keep you giggling like a schoolgirl, almost kicking your feet in the air in your state of giddiness. Laying down on your bed, you hugged one of your pillows bringing it to your chin, a perfect tool to use to muffle your lovesick laughter as you finally heard the little unknown do-do-do's. 

The fuzziness you felt in your whole body distracted you from actually paying attention to the music, because you were too busy still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Eddie Munson – The Eddie Munson – listened to a whole The Cure album for you; heard this specific song and thought of you; and spent time making this mixtape for you. All because of you. You had to take a few breaths to bring your mind back to the song, or else you'd spend the whole night rewinding the poor tape. 

You held your breath as Robert Smith sang 'you're such a strange girl, I'd like to turn you upside-down', and your eyebrows involuntarily shot up. A familiar heat crept up your neck and took hold of your cheeks while a smile kept dancing on your lips. Once again, your pillow came into action, muffling a fit of giggles as it hid your flushed cheeks from the cold air of your bedroom. 

It was unnecessary to wait too long for your next hysterics to come through because as soon as you heard 'you're such a strange girl, the way you look like you do. You're such a strange girl, I want to be with you', you were absolutely gone; laughing excitedly as your eyes widened and your own body didn't know whether to feel extremely lovesick or surprised. But you couldn't just sit and wait for it to decide, so almost unconsciously, you reached for the phone and dialed the number you had already memorized.

"You reached the Munsons! It's Eddie".

"Hi." that's all you could say before giggling again.

"Hey, Vlad. I take it that you've already listened to the tape?" 

"'m still listening".

"Cool," he commented, starting to become a bit uneasy. "A-and what did you think?"

"Well, I think that Robert Smith is a genius." you paused a bit, just for the dramatics, and heard Eddie's heavy breath on the other side of the line. "And that you and I should go on a date sometime". 

"Y-yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking", you could practically hear his smile and that made you laugh once more. "Benny's Burger?"

"Perfect. You're free on Friday?"

"For you? Always". 

"Great. I'll see you at seven then." 

"It's a date".

"It's a date", you confirmed, biting your lower lip, trying to keep your smile from getting any wider. 

I think I'm falling… I think I'm falling in… I think I'm falling in love with you. 

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

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[drmflm]

—summary: you longed for the same things as he— and as your worlds went up in smoke, and ash burned in your souls, you craved the love and emotion, the kiss and the devotion.

—pairing: namjoon x gn!reader

—word count: 2.5k

—genre: ANGST

—au: cafe au, s2f2l2s, philosophical

—rating: 18+ (see warnings + note)

—warnings: fire and a burning building, brief making out, feelings of loss, characters are slightly suicidal, cynicism, heartbreak, intense sadness, figurative use of disease/poison, death (as a concept, no characters die)

—note: there’s one scene that i tried to keep it as brief as possible, and i still think u should definitely not read if any of the above trigger you, even a little. i was pretty philosophical w this one which is why there are so many warnings 😅

—collab: this is inspired by people watching by conan gray, and part of the “superache summer” collab with @sunshinejunghoseokie and @pjmsdior ! thank u cam for the lovely banner once again!

—masterlist

Love is a disease of the brain: it slinks up the spine and sets every nerve alight, it messes the conscience till it goes into overdrive. There is no limits when it comes to love, and it often ends in tragedy one way or another. Because that’s what a disease is; love is simply an unhappy ending glamourized as a peaceful one.

That’s why you were there, The Heartbreak Cafe, a spot for the broken-hearted. People usually brushed singles off to the side, or they looked at them with pity. After all, it seemed as though being loveless was the worst place of all in this world.

And searching for love was an arduous affair. There was no end to pursuing dis-ease. In fact, it was a disease in itself to try and catch something that, once you had in your grasp, would only poison you.

But it was an intoxicating poison, and with it came a rich experience you’ve only ever had a taste of. You wanted that fervour of loving someone to drive you mad with passion and desire, to make every touch feel breathy and ethereal.

But there was none of that. Because love wasn’t like that.

And the only fool who was silly enough to hate their salvation was you. That was why you were there, in the Cozy Cafe, a quaint cafe across the street from the dilapidated one you frequented.

It was too bright—there were too many happy couples surrounding you, with unbearable giggles and frustrating displays of affection that made you feel sick to the heart.

“One iced caramel macchiato and a butter croissant,” you ordered when the barista came around. Paying your dues, you were engulfed in your misery so deeply that you intentionally kept your awareness away from your surroundings.

“Just drizzle caramel into the cup before pouring in the milk,” the barista instructed to her trainee—and oh…

“Okay, I got it,” he replied, and you were stunned when his eyes locked on yours. “Iced caramel macchiato for Y/n?”

You nodded gratefully, standing up to receive your order. A few moments later, your croissant came, and you headed off, mind still admiring the barista’s beauty.

Perhaps now you had an incentive to go back to being heartbroken.

“Iced caramel macchiato with a butter croissant?” A voice asked as you wandered in, fifth morning in a row. “I remember you,” he said with a bright smile.

“You bet,” you replied, smiling at him as well. “I need my morning caffeine before I start my work day.”

“Oh, what do you do?” He asked curiously as he handed you your receipt.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what my title is yet, but I work with plants,” you lied, sitting in your usual seat by the counter. “Spring is always a crazy time.”

He nodded, “That’s so cool though. You must really love what you do.”

You grimaced, “I do, but it’s not what I really wanted to do.”

You thought he was going to ask what that was, but he didn’t. When he handed you your coffee and croissant, he tended to another customer, but his attentive eyes stayed on you, up until you walked out the door.

You thought about him more that evening, his sparkling eyes pooling warmth in your heart and soaking your brain with happiness. Already, the stirrings of your disease were presenting themselves to you, eager to destroy.

The more you knew him, the more dangerous it became. What started as behind-the-counter chitchat, evolved to a blooming friendship, where you often spent time together at the cafe, or at art museums on his off days.

When seasons changed, and you started ordering hot coffees, it was as though everything had changed with them. You had a thick blanket of camaraderie swathed atop you both, bringing you closer and closer together. But how close was too close? How much farther could you go before you breached the precarious border between friends and… something more fierce and terrifying?

You craved it with him. You craved to kiss those cherry lips of his and to feel that love disease in your veins, in your heart, in your everything.

And maybe it was because you were lonely, but you liked him, wanted him, needed him. It was as though he composed the foundations of this earth.

Maybe you should have been more careful, falling for someone such as him. But the lure of danger was tempting—much too tempting for your mortal heart to bear.

But love hurt, right? Love was poison. Was it worth the risk? Was he worth it? Your heart broke at your own hesitation, a firm reminder of the cynicism that was now engraved unto your soul. A lot of people despised that about you— but Namjoon enjoyed your individual philosophy, so perhaps he’d take that more kindly than all of the others you’d liked before him.

Thinking about him made it worse, and when your hands found the stem of the flower, you couldn’t help but wince at the snap of the stem, cringe at the crumpling petals in your hand, and shudder at the damage you had inflicted upon it.

It reminded you of the bleak reality that everything you loved would one day be destroyed. Whether it was a person, a thing, a pet… everything fell apart eventually. Houses decomposed, pets perished, humans left. There was no such thing as permanence in this world. It was simply a construct, intangible and rooted in the imagination.

Love was a diseased flower. There was only so long its beauty would last before it revealed its ugliness to you, before it brought with it swift grimness, followed by decomposing and grotesque sights that reeked of its own misery. Love lived to enforce nature’s vows of balance, to bring youth into the world, whilst swiftly eradicating the old till only the fresh remained. And you were withering away—the next on its kill list.

You held the broken flower in your hands, and for once in your life you were in awe of how beautiful something broken was. The broken stem and the withered petals were priceless in their death, they were the epitome of your fervour, a byproduct of your passion, a victim of one’s aggression.

Something in your hand was broken by love, withered by passion, devastated by aggression… and yet, why was it that it was still so beautiful? Why was it that everything beautiful in the world was always so broken?

Spread upon your table was a pile of broken things—a broken stem, a broken petal, a broken flower. And the more you stared the more you realized that you were that table, you were that flower… you were an amalgamation of so many beautiful, broken parts.

So when the thoughts of him subsided, you were back to being who you were—whole and complete in your brokenness, a unified persona of everything that had ever been broken within you.

And you relished in it, knowing that once you were broken, you were stronger, tougher, and unpredictable. Nobody would ever understand a person who harmonized with their brokenness in the way in which you were doing so. Nobody understood the debilitating madness that descended upon you when you understood the finality of being a broken thing.

And Namjoon was no different. He would never see you as anything more than what you were: beautifully broken and breaking at the seams.

For a time, your life became so bleak that you found yourself dreading the weekends, eager to see Namjoon and then promptly throw yourself into your work to avoid facing the reality of your terrible life.

It was easier to avoid everything than to face the fact that everything—your misery, your negative mindset, and misfortune—was all because you didn’t want to escape the thick veil of cynicism you conditioned yourself to follow.

So when you sat down, waiting for your order, you watched him from afar, placing the croissant in the oven to warm it up, before making eye contact with you.

You held his gaze for a little while, until another customer rang the bell—another regular who you’d seen around. When he turned away, you looked away, trying not to think about it.

For a few moments, you remembered every moment you spent together. From that time you two watched a philosophical comedy at the theatre, to the casual outings you spent together, you never recalled a time you didn’t feel joy with him.

You never knew whether or not he felt the same as you, but a part of you wished you did. Because maybe he could’ve been more than a stranger.

But you didn’t know, and you never would.

As the smoke began clouding the air, and the alarm started blaring, and the water started spraying, you cried—cried as the smoke burned your eyes, cried as you were engulfed with the knowledge you meant nothing to him.  You were just an acquaintance.

“Y/n, we need to get out of here, now! The fire is—” Namjoon said quickly, ushering you out of your seat.

“Namjoon,” you said, and for a second you didn’t know what came over you, but you held his wrist gently. Orange painted shadows across the room. “Namjoon—“

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, and as the smoke filled your hearts and he nodded his consent, you brazenly kissed one another, hands wandering and bodies cradling one another before you parted, as flames wrapped along the walls.

You didn’t care about the fact that you were in a burning building. What mattered was that you heart was already burnt, singed like the walls and fluttering away like smoke.

It didn’t matter anymore, as long as you had this one moment.

You ran, pulling him along, and escaping out the door—sanity finally returning to you, adrenaline pumping bouts of energy into your empty heart.

By the time you reached safety—he was gone.

You always knew you were destined for heartbreak. When things got too good and you tried for something more fulfilling, when a piece of you yearned to try—you always ended up in the same place.

Sitting in the abandoned Heartbreak Cafe, your eyes tracked the remnants of the previous cafe you frequented.

And hell, it wasn’t just the croissants that had you coming back, that made that place feel cozy like a home. It was him, and with his absence… it was like nothing ever existed. He put life into the place.

You knew he was clumsy and that was why he forgot the croissant in the oven till it burned.

But it was because of you too.

You never understood what was going on in that beautiful mind of his—and you were also equally surprised at your own heart, your own feelings.

Because you were numb, always numb. You didn’t feel anything unless it was a disease. So why was it that you felt something so beautiful when you were with him? What was that beautiful, whole feeling that you felt?

Because you were broken, so very broken. Why was it so refreshing to want the something that was so bad for you?

You didn’t want to remember him, but as you stared at the remnants of what used to be yours… you were fraught with the knowledge that you lost it all.

You lost everything, and while you watched happy families stop and stare at the carnage, as you watched happy couples laugh in the park and married elderly who still held hands after thirty years… you felt more alone than ever before.

Immersed in your thoughts, you unconsciously traced frowning faces in the dust collected on the tabletops, startling as you heard a chair screech beside you.

Looking up, your expression turned watery as you looked away from the newcomer, training your eyes in front of you.

“Quite a view isn’t it?”

You nodded, “Yeah. A lot was lost there.”

He nodded before sinking into the chair next to you, “I don’t ever recall seeing you in here before.”

“I used to come here a lot,” you said, not looking at him because it hurt. It hurt to be treated like a stranger after everything you had done together, after every moment you shared.

“Ever since Cozy closed, I’ve been coming here too,” he said, but his voice was cold, lacking depth. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Y/n,” you said, and before you knew what you were doing, you stood up and grabbed your things. “It was nice meeting you.”

He grimaced, closing his eyes before ducking his head, “Why did you kiss me?”

You shook your head, shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. I felt something then—something that left when you did.”

He nodded, “I wish we could have had what others have.”

You laughed but it didn’t even feel real, “I don’t. I don’t because when I did it always ended just like this.” You brushed a tear from your eye, “I’ve always wanted to feel all that love and emotion, but—“

Your fingers shook as you held the doorknob, the creaking door hanging crookedly in the frame. You took a shuddering breath, before looking at him one last time, “I fell for you without caution, and I guess it was good in a way, because for now, I’ll just keep people-watching.”

You stepped out the door and turned looked back at him one more time, “It’s safer, less harmful, than if someone like me ever tries to love again.”

“Y/n—“ he said, standing up and walking towards you.

“Don’t,” you replied, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Please.”

He stopped, looking stricken for a moment before hanging his head, “I’m sorry.”

He walked towards you again, “We don’t know each other. We will never know each other again, so let me tell you this one thing,” he swallowed, before continuing, “please don’t remember me. Please let me go and enjoy your life, don’t stop trying. Don’t let me be the one who ruined it all for you. Please.”

You hesitated, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you, “Y/n, please.”

Finally, you nodded, “I promise. M-maybe one day we’ll meet again.”

And with a watery smile, you left.

© 2022 svt1117 . all rights reserved.

[silversatoru]

play-thing — part one

gojo satoru x getou suguru x f!reader

t/w: nsfw 18+, dark content, drugging, manipulation, noncon/dubcon, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, this story contains very dark themes so please do not read it you’re sensitive to any of these topics

synopsis: suguru and satoru are missing something in their lives, and who better to manipulate than an lonely, impressionable girl who just moved to tokyo from another city. they’re willing to take extreme measures to transform you into their perfectly submissive little play-thing. 

wc: 1.9k

suguru and satoru do everything together; live in the same house, work at the same company, even share a closet of the most expensive clothes, but something was missing. they both felt it, the empty space between them, and they were determined to find the perfect piece to fill the gaping hole in their lives.

and you practically fell right into the palm of their hands, in a local grocery store of all places. a pretty little thing with a freshly broken heart who’d just moved here from a neighboring city. no friends, no family nearby, anxious and impressionable and desperately in need of a couple capable men to show her around. it all started with an innocent question: “hey, sorry to bother you guys, but could you tell me where the baking aisle is?”

how you ended up here you still weren't quite sure. 

“let us take you on a tour of the city tonight,” satoru had cooed at you.

“there’s a few really nice bars, we could grab some drinks,” suguru added, both their voices smooth and terrifyingly persuasive.

but they seemed nice enough, and you weren't in any position to be picky with making friends right now — after all, you’d have to get accustomed to the city somehow, right?

wear something pretty, satoru had winked at you before you parted ways and continued your shopping, and for some reason you were very inclined to do as he said. they were both intimidatingly attractive and you weren’t exactly sure what their dynamic was yet, but you decided that if you ended up in bed with one of them tonight, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

you’d chosen a short and silky black dress, something elegant but classic that would absolutely catch the eyes of both men. and it did, satoru’s eyes glazing over your body several times before he even bothered to say hello to you. suguru was less obvious, his dark eyes giving you a quick once-over before giving you a warm smile and wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the three of you entered the first bar.

it was small, dimly lit with a few lanterns and packed tight with people. a little too crowded for your level of comfort, so you stuck closely to the sides of suguru and satoru as they led you deeper into the pub. the dark-haired male gestured towards an empty seat at the end of the countertop, the two of them standing on either side of you after you slid into it. satoru spoke with an impressive level of charisma, ordering three of the same drink from the bartender — who he seemed to know quite well.

taking a few sips of the liquor did wonders for you initial anxiety, and the casual conversation with both men was helping you to settle in as well. 

so, where are you from? 

what made you want to move to tokyo?

what do you do for a living? 

you were painfully oblivious to how the conversation stayed entirely centered around you; you still hadn’t learned anything about the two men, but they were learning everything about you. 

an hour or so in, a warm dizziness began to swirl around the inside of your head, slowly exacerbating until you felt like you were about to tumble out of your seat. you’d only had a couple drinks, and you normally handled your alcohol fairly well, so why did you feel absolutely sloshed right now? 

“guys, i think maybe-” you turned towards your two tour guides and crashed forward into suguru’s chest without warning. 

“think you went a little heavy, toru?” he scooped his hands under your plump ass and lifted your unconscious body into his muscularly arms. 

“not my fault she has no tolerance,” satoru shrugged, throwing some cash on the counter, “might be easier with her like this anyway”. 

“i suppose,” suguru clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “stupid girl, didn’t your parents teach you not to trust strangers so easily?”

the two of them casually made their way out of the bar together, making jokes about how poorly you handle your liquor to anyone who gave them a questionable look — but the bar was so loud and jam-packed with people that they made it out without any incident.

you were slow to come out of your sleepy haze, head nodding up and down as you struggled to maintain consciousness and take in the scenery around you. in a futile attempt to brush some hair out of your face you realized your hands were tightly secured behind your back. panic immediately flooded your system, chest tightening and hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. 

“just a precaution, angel,” suguru came walking into your hazy vision, a warm smile on his face as he tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ears, “how are you feeling?” 

“wha-, whaaat happen- ed?” your words were garbled, your brain barely able to form them. 

“don’t worry about it,” satoru appeared next to suguru, “you just drank a little too much, but we’ll take good care of you, won’t we suguru?” 

“of course, no need for you to worry about anything anymore,” he gave an affirmative nod. 

“i don’t think-” you wracked your brain for any recollection of what had happened tonight, but you found nothing, “i don’t th- think i — understand”. 

“you will soon,” satoru flashed a bright smile, but it wasn’t nearly as inviting as the first time you saw it. this time it was eerie, evil, threatening — what exactly was he talking about? 

your brain was quickly turning to absolute mush, your vision getting darker and foggier than it already was as you tried to hang on to the sound of their voices.

just relax

we’re gonna make you feel good, you wanna feel good, princess?

you want us to make you feel better?

“mhm,” you gave them a slow nod. you did want them to make you feel better! you felt groggy and confused and nauseas! so of course you said yes! that is what they were asking? right?

you felt the bed shift around you, several hands tracing over your skin and gently pushing you onto your back. you tried to question them, tried to form the words, but your brain was unable to produce a single word or movement at this point.

a hot tongue connected with the side of your neck, lips latched onto the skin and sucking gently on the sensitive area. another mouth was on your inner thigh, sucking a little harder and undoubtedly leaving a small marking. you subconsciously let out a squeaky, shaky breath, the warmth of their tongues eliciting a response in your doped-up body.

goosebumps raked through your body when you felt a pair of slender fingers slip under your dress and brush over the thin material of your panties. it was satoru, his middle and index fingers prodding at your clothed cunt and sending jolts through your legs. meanwhile suguru continued to cover your neck in sloppy kisses, one of his large hands groping at your covered breasts.

your brain had gone numb, from the drugs, the confusion, the terribly intoxicating pleasure. you hated how clueless you were, how useless your body was right now, but what you hated most of all was that you weren’t even trying to fight back. their touch felt good — too good for you to ask them to stop.

it wasn’t long before satoru’s fingers were replaced with his mouth, his tongue running up and down the fold in your panties and absolutely soaking the material with his saliva. he groaned from the taste, getting just as much pleasure from this as you were. he was quick to push the fabric to the side, sliding his tongue against your sticky folds with hunger and urgency. he lapped at your cunt, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue and evoking a series of twitches from your lazy body.

“be gentle with her” suguru’s voice sounded far off in the distance as he mumbled into your chest.

satoru heeded to the other man’s instructions, slowing his pace and going more gentle on your sensitive, puffy clit. suguru found your hardened nipples through your thin dress, rolling them in his fingers and enhancing the already blissful feeling you were getting from satoru’s tongue.

the two of them working together was incomprehensibly euphoric, your stomach coiling into tight knots with each swipe of his tongue. without warning he dove even deeper, his tongue shooting into your cunt while his nose rubbed against your throbbing bundle of nerves. between that and suguru giving your nipples a sudden tug, your body was crashing with waves of pleasure — strangled moans and pitiful whimpers the only sounds that your mouth could produce.

it was a near-holy experience, the feeling of the sedatives pumping through your veins as satoru tongued your pussy and suguru massaged your breasts through your heightened orgasm. you felt like you were floating, the room was spinning, and then everything went dark.

a real shame that you wouldn’t be able to remember any of it by the time you woke up.

bright sunlight pierced through your eyelids the following morning, forcing you awake and causing you to jolt up. you were laying in a large bed that was situated at the back of a rather large room, fitted silk sheets cool under your skin. confused of what happened and where you were, you stood from the bed and made your way to the door, feet patting on the soft carpeted floor. 

when you opened the door you entered a long hallway that led to a wide stairway covered in the same fluffy carpeting. two voices were laughing and talking beneath you, and curiosity fueled your motivation to walk down the stairs and into an open-concept kitchen and living room. 

satoru and suguru, the two men from yesterday were busy at the stove, pancakes and bacon sizzling away on two cast-iron pans. they wore matching aprons, suguru’s reading chef daddy, and satoru’s reading mr. good-lookin’ is cookin’. 

who the fuck were these guys?

“feeling better?” suguru was the first to notice you loitering at the edge of the room. 

“yeah, how are you? didn’t picture you to be such a heavy drinker,” satoru laughed, flipping a pancake with grace. 

you didn’t remember much, nothing past sitting down at the bar with them. you weren’t much for getting wasted but you were plagued with more stress than usual lately — maybe you really let yourself go last night. 

“ah, sorry about that, I don’t even remember what i did, honestly,” you shrugged, “thanks for looking out for me though, where’s my stuff?”

“in a hurry to leave? stay for breakfast,” suguru brushed off your question with a captivating smile, his eyes squinting together in the most adorable way. 

“we insist,” satoru chimed in, humming as he continued to focus on the sweet-smelling food. 

and so you stayed, which was probably the worst mistake that you’d made in the past twenty-four hours of countless terrible mistakes. 

part one | part two

a/n: im on a yandere/dark content kick today i cant help it. anyway if u wanna be tagged when i post part two lemme know :) and if u want some yandere megumi go read @katslutski​ ‘s tell me 

(ily kat <33 so happy to have someone to get into very specific obsessions with)

[hopelesshawks]

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[moonlit-reveriee]

NSFW Alphabet

ft. technoblade

concept: a collection of my own personal nsfw headcanons for techno, one for each letter of the alphabet

@saturnsstufff ‘s discord saw it first ;)

A = Aftercare 

I like the idea that techno actually gets very clingy after sex. He’ll get up and grab a glass of water or a towel if either of you need it, but if he’s able to, he’ll stay glued to your side the whole time. Even if he won’t admit it, he needs to have that intimacy after sex. He loves the feeling of your body pressed against his as you both cool down. Usually, his hands will be absentmindedly drawing patterns over your skin

B = Body part 

Kind of an oddly specific one, but he loves your shoulders. He loves to casually rest his chin on them as he holds you from behind, and bury his face in the crook of your neck as he presses heated kisses on your pulse point. He also considers the way a person carries their shoulders to be an indication of their strength, and how could he see anything but strength in you.

He hadn’t put much thought into his own body before meeting you. He’s learned to love parts of himself because of you. Particularly his scars. They way you gently run your fingers across the rough surface of them, in both intimate and casual settings, made him crave the touch. Now when he looks at them, he thinks of your hands moving across his skin

C = Cum 

Fun fact: pigs have 30 minute orgasms

Early on in your sexual relationship, he was very embarrassed by just how much of it there always was. But once you started praising him for it, that became a very different story. He started to take pride in how well he could completely fill you up without even trying

D = Dirty Secret 

He would probably never admit it to you, but it’s become a habit of his to think about the last time he had sex with you during battles. He starts to make sure you two always have sex the night before a big fight, so his mind can wander back to it during the haze of battle. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or what but it certainly helps

E = Experience 

You are his first ever sexual partner, but somehow he just.... already knows what he’s doing?? He’s very nervous and considerate the first time, but he does everything perfectly. Once you tell him that, he’s very happy and secretly a bit proud of himself

F = Favourite Position 

He loooves to have you in his lap. Either facing him, back to chest, it doesn’t matter. He’ll do everything with you in his lap. Cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, anything you and him are physically able to do in that position

G = Goofy 

He’s usually a bit more on the serious side. Sometimes the two of you will quip at each other during foreplay, but once he gets going, it’s all business. In the moment, he likes to treat is as something special (doesn’t mean he won’t tease you about things after the fact)

H = Hair 

He likes to keep himself clean-shaven most of the time. When he’s relaxed and doesn’t have to go to any public events for a long period of time, he’ll let a small amount of stubble grow on his chin. You can always tell when he slacks off on it, cause the stubble on his face brushes roughly against your skin as he kisses down your body...

he doesn’t really shave much below the neck, but he keeps it clean and trims occasionally

I = Intimacy 

He’s surprisingly romantic when he wants to be. It’s definitely a side of him only you’re allowed to see. Alone together in his bed, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he slowly draws you to your climax. Even when he’s speaking the most lewd and naughty things to you, he somehow makes them sound affectionate and full of love

J = Jack Off 

He loves to watch you masturbate. The first time was a complete accident. He came home late one night to find you curled up with his blankets, breathing heavily as you massaged yourself over your underwear. It wasn’t long before you noticed him in the doorway and jumped, worthlessly attempting to hide what you were doing. He wasn’t sure if it was the blush on your face or the fact that the blanket you chose to cover yourself in was his cape but something urged him to sit on the edge of the bed, still in his armor, and ask you to continue. It was beautiful to simply sit there and watch

K = Kink 

He’s a little bit possessive. He loves to mark you in subtle ways so you always remember that you’re his. Especially if you’re going on a trip without him. He’ll drape you in gold jewelry and leave a hickey just out of sight on your neck for good measure. The part that he loves the most about it though, is that you know exactly what he’s doing and show off his signs of possession with pride

L = Location 

He prefers to keep most of your sexual acts to the area in and around his cottage. Other than in bed, he loves to press you up against a wall. Sometimes you two get distracted while tending to the farms and end up heatedly making out in the snow. One time, you decide you wanted to lay out some blankets on the floor and do it right in front of the fireplace. He adored the way the firelight danced across your skin. (He’s thought about taking you down to the syndicate room and laying you out across the table. But he came to the unfortunate conclusion that during meetings, he’d never be able to look anyone straight in the eyes ever again. So he’s shelved that idea for the time being. Maybe once the group has disbanded...)

M = Motivation

He loves to be praised by you. During regular day-to-day life, he doesn’t like to accept any compliments from you, usually just brushing them off or responding with a joke. But when you two are alone together and intimate, he drinks that shit up. How can he not believe it when you look up and him with lidded eyes and tell him just how good he makes you feel. Just moaning against his lips as he kisses you is enough to keep him going for a while

N = NO 

He will never do anything that involves seeing your own blood. It sets off the voices too much. One day, you randomly got a nosebleed while cooking dinner together. He could smell it before he even saw it. When the voices recognized the deep red color dripping down your face, they wouldn’t stop chanting. He tried to help you clean up, but it became too much to ignore. He had to go out back and slaughter at least a dozen zombies before they shut up. And even then, he was left with a pounding headache. You were extra gentle and sweet with him when you cuddled up in bed together that night

O = Oral 

If you’re on the receiving end, be prepared for him to be down there a looooong time. Once he gets his mouth on you, it’s hard for him to pull away. He loves your smell and taste too much. He tries not to get too carried away, but there was one time he made you come 5 times in a row with just his mouth. He was very thorough with his aftercare that night.

He isn’t the one receiving very often. He only really likes it when he’s tired. He loves to sit back in a chair and watch you gently suck him of on your knees in front of him, one hand gently weaving it’s way through your hair

P = Pace 

I always imagine him on the slower side. He likes to savor every moment, making sure that every thrust or movement of his hand is intentional and perfectly placed. He takes time to watch you carefully to make sure you’re getting exactly what you need. He’ll go harder before he goes faster

Q = Quickie 

As much as he loves to treasure your intimate time together, there are times where he just needs it. Every once and awhile, he’ll be desperate for it and quickly have you against the wall before heading out to run some errands. Sometimes he’ll pull you in, make you cum, and head out the door without saying a single word. He usually feels the need to make up for it when he returns, but you’ve assured him many times that you love sex with him at any pace

R = Risk 

Since he’s still fairly inexperienced despite his skills, he’s not super adventurous himself. More often than not, you’re the one bringing new ideas to the relationship. He’s willing to try the new things you suggest. You’ve had a discussion about your limits, and you both understand what goes too far for each other

S = Stamina 

He can go multiple times in a row if he wants to, and for a long time. He lowkey loves it when you tire out before him, and you let him keep going while you lie there sleepily in his arms

T = Toy 

He doesn’t own any sex toys, but he likes to make sex toys out of everyday objects (as long as they’re safe and properly cleaned of course). He likes the idea of never being able to look at that object the same way again, especially if it’s something either of you use around the house frequently. He would get his hands on some actual toys if you wanted him to. If toys are involved, he prefers them to be used on you, not on him

U = Unfair 

He likes to randomly tease you during moments that are absolutely not sexual. Maybe you’re brushing out his hair, complaining about the knots in it. He’ll suddenly respond with “that’s not what you told me in the bedroom last night” leaving you to sit there in shock while he laughs. Or he’ll quote things you said to him during sex completely deadpan and watch as the blush rises to your cheeks

V = Volume 

He’s not extremely loud. When he is loud though, he growls. You’ll be able to feels his chest vibrating when you lean into him. Sometimes you can even feel the vibrations through his lips as he pleasures you with his mouth, which is an absolutely crazy and wonderful feeling.

During very domestic moments, he likes to talk a lot during sex. If he comes home from working all day, and he’s missing you greatly, he loves to tell you all about his day while his cock gently rocks inside of you

W = Wild Card 

This part is definitely just gonna be me fulfilling one of my personal kinks, but I love the idea of techno going through a heat since he’s part piglin. Maybe it only happens like once a year, but when it’s that time, his senses are kicked into high gear and he’s desperate for you. The two of you have a routine for it by now. You prepare the bedroom by gathering every blanket in the house, and prepping a week’s worth of food & water that can be eaten quickly during the moments when techno’s haze of arousal drops. Once he feels it start to set in, he locks the bedroom door and allows his senses to become completely enveloped by you

X = X-Ray 

I like to believe that a lot of the hybrid races are PACKING. It’s one of the many things he’s nervous about on your first time, but seeing the way your able to take him so well every time is such a turn on

Y = Yearning 

Both you and him can be too tired to have sex at times, but if he’s able to have you, he’ll take everything he can get. He loves to take care of you if you’ve had a long day, and he knows you’ll do the same for him

Z = ZZZ 

If it’s nighttime sex, he can pass out as soon as aftercare is over. But if it’s morning or midday, he can have sex and go about the rest of his day no problem. Since his orgasms are so long, he likes to make you cum more often than he does, and watching you cum invigorates him

[hanazuma-inactive]

Are you fine with top beta mreader and bottom alpha iwaizumi? Reader is model student in school and rumor tells that he is better than most alpha. Iwai who never interested about that kind of thing suddenly changed his mind when his inner beast screamed out for reader when he saw him in the library. That caught reader attention. So they have sex there, with Iwai trying hard to holding back his voice and he can only knotting at nothing when climax. After they were done, Iwai kinda light headed and Reader bridal carry him outside. I just think it will be cute 🐽

That's all 🛁

out of the ordinary (nsfw) top beta!reader x bottom alpha!iwaizumi

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: slight degrading, omegaverse, reverse roles, knotting (not really), public sex (sex in library), slight overstimming

a/n: i can't find any,,,good iwa panels help. but this was an interesting concept especially the last part. i also love iwa with my entire life please 🧎‍♂️ sorry this took so long because it's pretty long around 1.8k words

_____

you were an exception, someone who's out of the ordinary. being born a beta, people didn't expect much from you. they had no reason to believe that someone who was a part of 90% of the world population was capable of doing anything extraordinary. however you were there to prove them wrong. ever since elementary going into highschool your grades were always at the top of the class and in some cases in the district. everyone was surprised to find out that you were only a beta instead of an alpha.

your achievements were spread all of the school board and among your classmates. most people respected you and some wanted to be you. your grades weren't the only thing you had, your looks were at least above average and nearly everyone who saw you wanted to fuck you, or get fucked by you. except for one person, iwaizumi hajime.

the spiky haired boy was never interested in this type of stuff. in fact he is the only alpha in the entire school that hasn't tried to hit on you or asked you out yet. unfortunately this just so happens to be the one person you were somewhat interested in. unlike the other betas and omegas you weren't exactly submissive. sure you were nice and friendly towards other people but in the bedroom? all you wanted was to make an alpha cry out your name and cum from your cock. it was an unrealistic fantasy due to how your society functions but you've seen it happen before and you wanted to experience it yourself.

the more iwa didn't notice you, the more frustrated you became. you tried all sorts of things to grab his attention. "helping" him with homework, which he denied many times. inviting him to hangout afterschool, also denied. and even as far as behaving unlike yourself, none of the above worked and you were quite upset about it.

until one day, when you were just walking to the gym you overheard iwa and his friend oikawa qtalking about something.

"c'mon iwa we all know you were head over heels for him when he was performing that day."

"shut up, it doesn't matter even if i do, he has enough alphas and omegas on his dick, he doesn't need another one. so what if i want to fuck him, who doesn't? you did too at one point but he turned you down almost immediately."

"jeez! calm down you freaking porcupine. all i'm saying is, next time you two are alone, maybe give it a shot instead of avoiding him. he's the first person that ever got you feeling like this and it would be too good of a chance to pass by, don't you think?"

"yah yah whatever i got it."

so the two were… talking about you?. there was no way right?! the one person you wanted attention finally gave it to you. it might not have been directly but he admitted it, and that's all you needed to know. so all the things you were doing did work after all. you were excited but you needed to keep your cool for now, and figure out a way to get you two alone. little did you know he was going to come to you all by himself without you even lifting a finger.

you strolled to the library afterschool to borrow to borrow a book your friend told you to check out that you know you won't be reading. while searching for the novel, you heard someone open the door of the empty library. it was pretty rare for anyone to be in the library except during class time so you wondered who it could've been. you peeked over the bookshelves to find a spiky haired male trying to find a book as well. it was iwa, looking for a book in the dystopia section.

this situation couldn't have been better. you and iwa were alone in a place where nobody usually comes. it was the perfect opportunity to do what you always wanted to do. you walked over to the other section to greet him.

"yo! how's it going iwaizumi?"

"it's going fine… thank you, i'm surprised to see you here though."

"oh yeah haha, just checking out a book."

iwaizumi looked away and directed his attention back to the bookshelf. you were a little upset and while thinking about something to talk about, he spoke again.

"h-hajime, is fine...by the way." iwa said while his face flashed a bright red.

hajime? his first name? we barely talked ever and now you guys are on a first name basis? you didn't mind of course, you a little surprised that's all.

"alright hajime! same goes for you too!"

he looked away again, gripping the book in his hand.

"alright, fuck it." he murmured under his breath. hajime turned around to you and pushed on onto the bookshelf behind you. his hand holding onto yours and his face red as a cherry. you were a little startled but this stuff wasn't exactly new to you so it wasn't as flustering to you as it was to him.

"uhh, hajime? y-you alright there?"

"i wanna fuck you alright?! there i said it. i'm not expecting anything because i'm the last alpha you haven't rejected. but still, i want to try. so…what do you say?"

it was all going better than expected. all the things you've done to attract iwa was finally paying off! you were excited but you needed to keep your cool before completely losing it on him.

"sure! i don't see the reason not to~ but…we are going to switch it up a little bit." you said with a smirk on your face. iwa looked confused about what you meant by switching up, but now that the person he liked agreed to have sex with him, he didn't care about what's about to happen.

you grabbed iwa's arms and pushed them behind his back as you turned him around, reversing the positions of you two.

"w-woah, what are you doing…y/n."

"i've always wanted to do this hehe, fucking an alpha and making him beg to cum as a beta, someone who is supposed to be below him in society standards. what do you say hajime? is this still the sex you were looking forward to? or are you gonna leave me here all by myself?"

there was fear and anticipation in iwa's eyes, eager to find out what happens next. as much as he wished it was the opposite way around he didn't want to lose the opportunity in his hand right now. reluctantly, he nodded and agreed, gesturing to get on with what you wanted to do.

gaining the signal to start, you aggressively pushed your lips onto iwa's, reaching into his mouth and soon intertwining your tongue with his. the other male let out stubborn whimpers as the kiss grew to be more sloppy. soon you broke it, leaving him panting for breath and a dirty smile on your face.

you licked your fingers and reached into the back of iwaizumi's pants. at first he jolted a little, not being used to his ass being touched as an alpha. you then started to move your fingers into his asshole. going deeper inside, hajime struggled with the pain that no alpha in this school will ever experience. hajime's grunts started to become moans, you put in more fingers as you found his pleasure point. massaging it and doing all the tricks you knew on it to make him feel as good as possible.

it didn't take long till a wet spot started to form on his pants and his eyes became hazy. you took out the finger and let hajime catch his breath before preparing him for the real thing.

"w-what's next…" hajime asked

"just close your eyes, i promise i'll make you feel good~"

he trusted you and shut his eyes, latching on to your shoulder. you revealed your cock and lifted iwa up so that his face would be facing you and his plump asshole would be right above cock. iwa was nervous, you could tell and that was the best part about it. gently you put your cock into his ass. it was still rather difficult even with all the preparation from earlier. iwa let out a small cry as you entered him, not used to anything so big inside him, or anything at all really.

"f-fuck that hurts…"

"i know, it'll feel good in a bit, alright? bare with me here a little. i'm gonna start moving."

you didn't even put into consideration that this was iwa's first time. you went at a moderate speed, sometimes slowing down and speeding up. iwa's hard cock leaking with precum and bouncing up and down on yours. it was such a pretty sight seeing the alpha cry pretty tears from all the pain and pleasure. of course you felt amazing too, iwa's virgin hole felt better than your hand or anything your dick had ever fucked.

iwa used one of his hands to cover his mouth. attempting to stop the people outside of the library to hear his moans.

"hajime~ people are gonna hear us if you keep being naughty like this~" you said with a cocky smile on your face.

he didn't say anything in response, barely being able to comprehend anything while getting fucked.

"c'mon...look at you, an alpha? being fucked by a beta in a library. moaning like a slut in heat, i might as well knot you while i'm at it hm?"

speaking of knots, the alpha was getting closed with nothing around his cock. nothing for him to knot. his cock enlarged in size as he reached his climax but a face of disappointment appeared because of the empty area around iwa's dick. he didn't even think it was physically possible until today looking at it right now in front of him.

hajime had his fun but you weren't done yet. right after he came you continued to fuck him and stroke his cock to overstimulate him. after you came inside you noticed that iwaizumi had already passed out from the pleasure. his own cum spilled on his stomach and his ass filled with yours. you stood still for a while, enjoying the view of the sleeping prince in front of you. to make this more fun for the both of you, you decided to carry the alpha in your arms as if he was your bride.

you got a bunch of weird stares and murmurs from the students around you but you didn't care. all the reputation that you built up could fall into shreds but you could not have cared less. now, the only thing that matters is the one person you wanted attention from gave it to you and is sleep soundly in your arms.

[frosted-night]

Jack Frost Designs Review

Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?

This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)

So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely. Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it. Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.

Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.

In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise. Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.

Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.

Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.

Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!! Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.

Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)

And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious. Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.

MOVIE DESIGN TIME

Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.

Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.

This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.

His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.

The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.

AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?

Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.

Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.

It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.

Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.

This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.

This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.

Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.

This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)

Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.

I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!

They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.

However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.

Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one.  This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3

That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.

Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props

NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.

(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)

Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*

This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.

Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice

Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.

No talk to him he angy.

Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi

Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that. He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting. Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.

The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.

And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes

Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day. Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10

[hollandsmushroom]

Lost In My Brain

Hello everyone, so this concept came from the very very depths of my brain as I went into a deep dissociative episode and I wrote this to pull myself out by imagining semi mob tom comforting me. 

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCHLY APPRECIATED 

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You aren’t replying to Tom’s texts so he is really worried, he finds you in a state of trauma and unable to really communicate. 

Warnings: Please read this at your own comfort, I wrote this to help me cope and I thought someone else might want to read it. I have written about extremely personal topics in this and I am not talking about stuff that I don’t know anything about, I suffer from dissociative PTSD. So warnings really include mentions of an unidentified trauma, Dissociation, Dissociative PTSD, Loss of recognition of faces, mentions of Mob Tom, missing person?, Trauma that happened at night, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that you are actually dead. 

Masterlist

Request Here

Word Count: 1577

Tom’s meetings had run late, he had messaged you throughout the discussions to keep you updated and so you wouldn’t worry but it was him who worried as his phone remained void of any response from you. He began to grow antsy as the conversations just dragged on. He gave his input whenever he had to but most of his time was spent trying his hardest to seem as if he was paying attention and then checking his phone to see if you had responded, and every time his phone screen was blank. His worry was beginning to overtake his body, he worked in a dangerous profession and people knew that the best way to get to him was through loved ones, you being the main one. The thought of something bad having happened to you made his heart break, the thought of someone hurting you added to that made his blood boil. It wasn’t like he was overreacting, you were always very attentive to responding to him when he was in meetings, you knew that under his hard mobster outside he worried about you a great deal and if you could do anything to ease that, you would, and that is why he was freaking out to this extent. As soon as the meeting came to a close he left immediately, ignoring the people who tried to catch his attention on his way out, focused only on getting home to you. 

  Tom walked into the house, calling out your name and receiving no response in turn his heart beginning to pound as the silence reverberated in his ears. With an urgency he began making his way through the rooms of your shared house. He started in your bedroom, eyes landing on the perfectly made bed, signalling to him that you never went to bed, he made his way through the guest rooms, your office, the living room, by the time he reached the kitchen he was on the verge of tears. Hands grabbing on to the counter as he faced the empty living room, retrieving his phone from his slacks pocket and quickly dialing up his mate Harrison. 

“Mate?” Tom asked as he heard the phone be answered on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah?” His friends tired voice answered, clearly having been woken up by Tom’s call

“I can’t find Y/n, I don’t know where she is” At this point Tom felt like he was on the verge of breaking down, the idea that something had happened to you and he wasn’t there to protect you made him see red.

“Wait? You can’t find her?” there was a rustle from the other line, Harrison having sat straight up in bed, shock over taking him. 

“Yeah, mate and I am kind of starting to freak-” Tom spun around, leaning his back against the cool marble countertop when his eyes caught on the open sliding glass door leading to your backyard, a dark figure sitting on the cement ground rocking slightly. 

“Mate, I'm gonna have to call you back” he ignored his friend's words of worry as he hung up, placing the glowing screen face down on the counter and making his way outside. As soon as he passed the threshold of the door sniffles reached his ears. The weather wasn’t freezing but it definitely wasn’t warm enough for you to be sitting there in nothing but one of Tom’s shirts, bare thighs on the cool ground. 

“Love?” Tom called as he made his way to your quivering figure, shoulders throwing themselves back and forth as you attempted to rock yourself in comfort. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you flinched away from his touch causing his heart to shatter. With the jerk of your movement his eyes caught your face, tears staining your cheeks. 

“Love it's me” Tom assured, once again reaching his hand out to you, and this time you let him, his hand soothing over your shoulder causing it to cease its shaking as you eased into his touch. He did this gradually, progressively enveloping you further into his hold, a protective embrace, your face tucked into his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back, trying to warm your body as you began to shiver from the night air. 

“Let's get you inside, darling” Tom’s soothing touch helping you off the ground. He grabbed your hand, gently moving you into the house, and led you to the bathroom. His hands grabbed your hips, placing you onto the bathroom counter, you sat there, eyes trained on the wall ahead as Tom dampened a washcloth, moving back to you to wipe the snot and tears off of your cheeks, he stood in your view for the first time, his hands reaching towards you as you examined his face, causing you quickly push him away, hurt flashing across his unknown feature as you distanced yourself from him, scooting back on the counter curling further into your own body. 

“Y/n?” His voice sounded defeated, reaching out again only for you to have the same reaction. His voice, you knew his voice, and his face didn’t seem completely unknown, something about him was familiar. It was so close to the face you loved so much but your eyes were distorting his features.

“I...I don’t know who you are?” He could have sworn he broke when you said that. 

“Baby, it’s me, it’s Tom” he cooed, trying to understand what was happening, fear bruning through his chest and all the way down to his gut, feeling as if his world was slipping from under his feet. 

“No, I-I know it’s you but..but I look at your face I don’t recognize it, it’s off, it’s not quite right and I don’t know who you are, you look like I stared at you for too long and you lost all feature, Tommy, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who I am” your tears began to flow again as you looked in the mirror, your face was just a little bit off till it wasn’t your face anymore. You closed your eyes and shook your head violently causing Tom to gasp, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to halt your movements. 

“Stop, baby, please stop, it’s me, it’s Tommy, I’m right here” his voice soothed you, peeling your eyes back open, you saw his face, it was right, it was your Tommy. 

“Tom?” His name but a question on your tongue as he cupped your cheek. 

“Yes it’s me,” the pad of his thumb brushed away tear streaks. “What’s happening, sweets, talk to me please” he pleaded, eyes begging you to let him know what was happening. 

“I’m dead Tommy” you explained but it only made it worse, yes widening comically as fear shot through his body. 

“W-what do you mean you’re dead?” His mind was racing, had someone put a hit on you? Did you need to go into hiding? He felt like he was falling into every possible issue that you could be having but he was cut off by your voice again. 

“I was thinking earlier and what if I died that night? What if I didn’t get out of the way? This is the after life” you mumbled, fully convinced that you had lost your mind. 

“You are not dead” Tom demanded 

“How do you know that” you whispered 

“Because I’m here, dusting with you, I can touch you and trace every mark in your body, I have my own life, I would have that if you were dead, and if you were why would it just be a continuation of your day to day, why are you freaking out if this is heaven” he tried to explain and something must have worked because your body eased, eyes drawing from your hands to his face. 

“This is real?” your voice sounded weak, so lost in your mind as your eyes seemed to glaze over. 

“Yes,  love this is real” he hummed, finally being able to wipe the tears from your face, his touch drawing you back from the farthest depths of your brain that you kept spiraling into “Now let’s get you to bed” Reaching past you he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste, preparing it for you to brush your teeth. You took your toothbrush from his hand as he leaned in and kissed your forehead lovingly, a tear slipping from his eye as he took in your defeated state, brushing it away before you could see and brushing his teeth as well. 

Moments later you fell into your bed, Tom’s arms wrapped securely around you as your back curved into his chest, you shook your head as you closed your eyes seeing everything you wished you could forget. 

“Tommy, I feel so lost in my brain, its like its yelling and every new thought just adds to the noise, continuing to bounce around with everyone else” You whispered as you shuttered. 

“I know it's not okay, my love, but I am here and I will be here, I will help you come back” he kissed your temple and held you as you fell asleep. He vowed to himself that he would be there for you, he would never let you go, give you a life that distanced yourself from that pain that haunted you. He would remind you everyday that you are alive. 

[lunaastoir]

cute things i think the genshin characters would do

characters included: diluc, kaeya, venti, and albedo 

****minor lore spoilers for diluc!****

an: i’m thinking of making this into a series bc this was such an adorable concept to write so lmk if you’re interested 👀 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc 

sorry kind of starting off with something a little sad 

i think diluc would have a habit of rubbing his vision 

ok seems kinda dumb at first but let me elaborate: 

after the death of his father, diluc was quite obviously devastated 

he basically withdrew into himself after letting all the grief, pain, and rage flood his senses

i think during this time of grieving, he would’ve developed this habit of running the pads of his fingers across his vision to calm himself down 

(v similar to katara from atla) 

since his father had always been proud of diluc’s vision, the thought of touching something that reminded him of his father has always been able to bring him some sort of relief no matter how short lived

it serves as a constant memory of his dad and i think being able to have that kind of connection - no matter how small would hold a significance to him 

stressed? you’ll see his fingers dance across his vision as the crease between his eyebrows gradually loosens 

ok here’s a bonus habit (bc the previous one was sad) 

whenever he’s bartending at angel’s share, he always flips the bottles in this cool bartending way before pouring the drinks 

like the whole shabang - flips in the air, shakes it in a way that the drink foams just right 

people are usually v surprised when they see this bc woah mans has got some sKILLS 

but also bc he’s known for being pretty serious and reserved so seeing a “trick” is kind of breaking the stoic image they have of him 

after he’s done pouring the drinks he’s also really precise about closing the bottles 

he makes sure that the caps are on tightly and that nothing is leaking (which ig is another reason why he does flips with them so he can make sure that the bottles are tightly closed) 

yes he’s rich but he also wants to make sure the drinks don’t go bad bc 1) kind of a loss if they do and 2) his customers deserve the best 

sweet man pls protect him <3 

kaeya

when he’s sitting down at his desk, he brings his legs up so he can sit on his chair criss- cross applesauce 

since he’s in his office and the only other person who’s in there with him is jean, he feels like he can drop the suave, charming cavalry captain facade he puts on when he’s in public and just dial it down slightly to who he really is in that moment 

jean doesn’t say a word the entire time even tho she quite obviously notices 

don’t get me wrong, he’s still the smooth talking kaeya but just,,, more relaxed and comfortable?? if that makes sense 

so since he’s a lot more comfortable in his office, he usually folds his legs into his chair bc damn they hurt from walking around all day

this is kinda dumb but i also think he has a lot of ink stains on his hands from writing so whenever he sees a fresh one he just likes to stamp it onto a piece of paper 

usually that piece of paper ends up being an unimportant report that goes to jean 

dw he also has a bunch of pretty small towels in his bottom drawer that he uses to wipe his hands on bc the public can’t see the pretty cavalry captain w ink stains!! the world would end!! 

oH kind of a side note but i also think he would keep a small folded up picture of something klee drew him in his pocket 

he thinks it’s very sweet and he periodically takes it out just to look at it soft for this man 

last one for kaeya but since he wears boots that have the little lip on the bottom (not really a heel but enough to make some noise) he makes sure to always try his best to walk quietly around the streets of mondstadt at night 

if anyone catches him doing it he’ll wave it off and say something like “oh me? i’m just practicing my stealth - it comes in handy when you have to sneak up on enemies you know?” but in reality that’s just bs 

he really just doesn’t wanna risk waking people up <3 

venti

this adorable man is obviously notorious for drinking 

he loves alcohol!! i mean he’s the anemo archon of the city of wine and freedom so is anyone really surprised 💀

anyways venti always jokes abt not having any mora (he really doesn’t he’s not wrong) but he always makes sure to pay his tab at angel’s share 

the only reason diluc lets him drink sm is because at the end of the day, venti always comes through w the mora 

he really is a talented bard so everything he makes in singing and composing music for other people to listen to always goes straight to angel’s share (debatable if that’s for the best or not but i’ll leave that one to you) 

so yeah <3 basically venti pays back his tabs even tho he’s an archon since he doesn’t want people to experience a loss bc of him 

it’s the archon nature coming out but also the venti nature bc he’s a sweet boy 

anyways getting onto the actual habit 🕺

he has a tendency to skip/hop regardless of wherever he’s going 

he uses his anemo elemental skill a lot while doing this just he can feel a light breeze whenever he skips around 

i also think he carries around extra bard strings in his hat bc he thinks it’s a cool party trick to take them out and be like tada i have extra strings no need to worry!!! 

people are usually not that amused but he does it anyway 

also yeah uh those strings sometimes fall out when he’s skipping 💀 

he’ll be hopping and suddenly bOOM they fall out, he loses them, a kitten by the name of prince takes them, and he has to ask for help to find his strings (i believe this is exactly how venti lost his strings to prince during the windblume festival and no i will not take any criticism and if venti says something different he is lying 🔪)

also has a habit of putting his hair into a bun sometimes!!! 

he loves his pigtails but he finds that he gets bored of them occasionally and his hair needs a break from its wavy tresses so he just plops it into a bun instead 

so so cute 10/10 hairstyle he can do my hair 

anyways love this man thanks for coming home <3 

albedo

i had a feeling i would kind of have a hard time w albedo since he is a little hard to read so i hope this is ok LMFAO 

he has paint stains. everywhere. no you cannot change my mind. 

they are subtle tho i will give him that 

you can’t notice that anything is amiss until you really pay attention and then you’ll start to see the pretty pastels and greens of the sunset he was painting up on dragonspine softly smeared across his clothes 

very rarely you’ll see a cute swipe of paint across his cheek or neck and it’s honestly adorable 

he was probably pushing his hair out of his face while he was painting and some excess paint on his finger landed on his cheek :,) 

he doesn’t really care tbh he thinks it’s just a part of him and it really isn’t that noticeable so he just leaves it 

also!!! since he is a big alchemist and he’s constantly working on labs and experiments i think he would accidentally misplace a lot of his written work 

he seems very organized but w someone as intellectual as him w his brain running miles a minute, i’m sure he has definitely forgotten where he’s put stuff away 

so!! in order to help him remember, he has little notes across his lab detailing where everything is 

if he was working on something and he immediately has to put it on hold bc something came up (klee came in demanding attention or sucrose needs help) then he’ll quickly jot down a note and stick it to his desk so he’ll remember when he comes back just in case he forgets 

sucrose as a result has noticed A LOT of notes across the lab and it’s simultaneously funny and endearing 

“started experiment with sweet flowers to try and turn them into a youth elixir: papers --> on the desk right next to klee’s photo” 

final point: he lets klee braid his hair sometimes if she wants to 

she doesn’t really know how given how young she is so she ends up messing up but albedo always walks her patiently through the steps again 

always makes time for klee no matter what bc he really does care a lot abt her :,) 

i love him sm pls 

[ookami-tsun]

Friendly meal

Zhongli x reader

As per usual, I went out for a dinner with Zhongli to catchup with each other, and it is my turn to choose the restaurant today... And the dinner of the day is... Ramen!

"Ahhh... This is Celestia!" I shouted as I swallowed a spoonful of soup "I am so glad that I could eat this today! I feel so revived"

Beside me, Zhongli gave a short laugh as he ate elegantly, sharp contrast to me, who would try my best to stuff my mouth... I can't be blamed right? I am not the only one that can eat 5 bowls in one seating.

"I am glad you enjoyed it, looking at you makes me feel like I can eat more than usual"

Picking up my noodles with my chopstick, I counted to 5 as the cold wind it cooled down. It is such a amusement to be able to eat the noodle immediately without having to blow on it.

"It is because you are here beside me that I feel happy enough to eat this much..." suddenly, a thought passed through my mind, causing me to turn to him to voice it out "If you find yourself unable to stomach anything, call me and I will be right there for you."

Processing my strange flow of thought, Zhongli let out a laugh before he said "Y/N... I love you, especially with your interesting way of thinking"

Hm...

Hm...?

Wait... What?!

Did...Did he just say he like me?! But he said 'interesting way of thinking', so it may not be a confession of love, plus he is kind of old fashion... So he wouldn't casually confess to me like this right...?

And he is Zhongli, the most likely meant it as the friend type...!

Within 1 second, I came out with my conclusion and gave my reply to him

I pat on his back and said "I love you too, buddy! You are the most knowledgeable person I have ever knew"

After this, I turned my attention back to the bowl of ramen so that I can forget about my embarrassing dream of Zhongli interested in me.

As I looked away, I failed to noticed how strange Zhongli's eyes were as well as how he clenched his palm.

...

Today, it is Zhongli's turn and he decided that he will be cooking at his home.

it was said to be hard for people who are interested in Zhongli to enter his house and I managed to enter it without any trouble... Just that I was stared at by Xiao's cat eyes which is threatening and warning me to be careful of how I act with Zhongli.

"Xiao..." Zhongli called out as he put down the groceries he brought on the dining table "Didn't you say that you have something to do at school?"

"B-but! I can't possibly leave you with this...!" While complaining, Xiao pointed at me.

"This...?"

"Ugh, Nevermind..!"

Leaving the house, Xiao gave me one more warning glare as he reluctantly closes the door and stops away.

"Sorry Y/N, he have been in his rebellious state... I hope you will forgive him for my sake..."

Turning back to Zhongli, I wave my hands vigorously "I-It's okay, I understand why he did that" if he didn't, you would have been busy with people trying to get into your life...

It has been clear from day 1, that Xiao, Zhongli's room mate is super protective of Zhongli and tries to remove anyone that desires Zhongli, and he is on my case right now.

But I don't mind... He looks super cute like a cat who hates his territory getting touched, which is why Zhongli have been single till now and I can't possibly hate such a cute cat person.

"You are going to cook Slow-Cooked Bamboo Shoot Soup right? Let me help"

I walked towards the kitchen, just in time to see Zhongli wearing the apron... Such a sight for the sore eye... It is even dragon theme apron!

It fits him really well!

"Oh.. It is alright, How about sitting there and watch the television? I will be done soon"

Chasing me out of the kitchen, I reluctantly turn on the television while turning back to look at his figure, luckily, the kitchen is designed to be open concept.

Soon, I can hear the sound of the stove getting turned off and I immediately enter the kitchen to help.

"Oh, I was about to call you..."

"You refused to let me help you with cooking, but I can at least help you to bring it out right?"

Giving a smile, Zhongli nod his head and turn around to remove his apron, which I have to mention it as it gives this feeling of newlyweds and I am not complaining... We might be able to be one in far future after we started dating...

Shush, I am not delusional... Maybe

After we both settled down at the dining table, I prepared my heart to do what I decided to do today

It is time for me to confess to him, to tell him that I am interested in him in that way...

"Zhongli... I have something to tell you..."

"Yes..? What is the problem"

Pulling his hand on the table into my hands, I stared into his eyes.

"I... I am In love with you!!" I shouted as I let out my deepest secret

Zhongli look at me blankly for a moment before he snapped out and replied "Ah... I am as well, Dear friend..."

As I became the next person to stone out, he turned away and look at the dishes

"The food will get cold, you should hurry up and eat it before you get upset stomach"

Eh... But...

W-well... I will pretend that I am not aware I am friend-zone... Wait, what friend zone?! I didn't even confess yet!

With slightly teary eyes, I took up my chopstick and started to dig in.

With my head down and focused on the food, I once again failed to noticed how Zhongli was secretly smiling as he glanced at me.

"We still have time..."

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[lesbiansforboromir]

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment. 

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor. 

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor! 

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind. 

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason! 

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable. 

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis. 

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out. 

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood. 

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now. 

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused. 

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it. 

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before. 

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

[silversatoru]

Heyo! Can I get some fluff with the #8 quote for Gojo :] I perfer female reader and i don't mind with any au. Hope you feel well and have a good day!

— GOJO + “DO YOU THINK ALIENS ARE REAL?”

gojo satoru x gn!reader

synopsis: your secret boyfriend knocks on your window and steals you for a lil nighttime date in the sky

t/w: gojo is a second year, heights, tooth-rotting fluff, literally just two teenagers hopelessly in love w each other

a/n: thank u for requesting :) i loved writing this so so so much and i could see myself turning this concept into a multiple part series once i have more time to write. gojo as a student being happy and in love fills my heart <3

you strained your eyes at the fine printed lines of your biology textbook, rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time and hoping you would finally retain it. you couldn’t seem to focus no matter how hard you tried, your mind drifting everywhere other than your study materials.

a soft patter on your second-story window jolted you out of your scattered thoughts, your eyes darting up to the source of the noise. your gaze fell upon a certain white-haired boy, a cheesy grin spread across his face as he poked his finger at your window a few more times. you rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of bed and gently pushing open your window in a desperate attempt to avoid making any loud noises.

“what are you doing here? it’s really late,” you hissed at him, trying to appear angry but unable to hide the smile that was tugging at your lips.

“i missed you,” he reached out his hand and held it open for you, “are you busy tonight?”

you took one last hesitant glance at your textbook and then shook your head and intertwined your fingers with his, “not at all”.

he helped you climb out through the window, a cool nighttime breeze stinging your cheeks. this was your weekly routine, you and the infamous blue-eyed boy. your parents didn’t really approve of him (maybe it was his massive ego or maybe it was the weird people he hung around with) but the two of you continued to find ways to see each other in secret. he’d use whatever insane abilities he had to teleport onto your roof and knock on your window, you’d accept, and he’d scoop you out into the night sky for a few hours. these were rare occasions though, as his role as a jujutsu sorcerer didn’t leave him with all that much free time.

tonight was just like every other, your hand wrapped in his as he teleported the two of you to an empty park that was situated on a beautiful overlook of a nearby city. nights with satoru were never less than a dream, a much needed escape from your boring life in the suburbs of tokyo. and nights with you were never less than a breath of fresh air, a few hours when all of his expectations and responsibilities of being a jujutsu sorcerer were nonexistent.

the two of you plopped down on a park bench, musing over the sparkling nighttime lights of tokyo. satoru shifted over, laying back and resting his head of fluffy hair right in your lap. your fingers instinctively found his shiny locks, twisting your fingers through the soft white while the two of you looked up at the stars.

“they’re all washed out from the bright lights, it’s hard to see,” you pouted, disappointed by the light pollution caused by the city.

“yeah it sucks,” satoru frowned — pointing out the constellations was always part of your routine, but he’d picked a bad location this time.

you hummed, massaging his head and straining your eyes to try and make out any shapes of stars in the sky.

“we could get a closer look?” he transferred his icy gaze over to you, a suspiciously evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“satoru, i swear if i’m thinking what you’re thinking — no,” you scolded the boy, your irrational fear of heights becoming prominent in the back of your mind.

“don’t you trust me?” he teased at you, sitting up from your lap and wrapping his hand around yours.

“more than anyone, but i do not want to-,” you continued to protest but the sorcerer boy was no longer paying any attention to your words.

when you opened your eyes again, you were thousands of feet in the sky, the city twinkling down below you and the harsh air stinging your skin. you yelped, clinging to satoru as if your life depended on it (and in sense it did, but he’d never let you get even close to falling).

“why don’t you ever listen to me!?” you cried out, eyes squeezed shut and arms thrown around his neck while he cradled you.

“shhh, look at the stars, babe,” he attempted to peel your arms from around him, using soft words to coax you out of your shell.

you slowly released your death grip on his neck, his strong arms providing a blanket of security over your fear. you forced yourself to look upward, jaw dropping at how clear the sky was — the stars stretched for miles and they were brighter than you’d ever seen them before. satoru truly was an enigma, a spectacle in your life who was constantly defying the laws of everything you knew to be true.

“it’s beautiful,” your voice came out as barely a whisper, you eyes quite literally filled with the stars as you continued to gaze up at the sky.

satoru hummed in agreement, but he was much too busy exploring every feature of your amazed face to even think about the stars. you were the most beautiful, surpassing every natural wonder in world and consuming every chamber of his heart.

he often thought about running away with you — disappearing to a different country and leaving the weight on his shoulders here. you reminded him what it was like to be a normal person — around you he wasn’t the strongest jujutsu sorcerer with the fate of the world in his hands, he was just satoru gojo; and that was always enough for you.

“do you think aliens are real, satoru?” your lighthearted, curious voice broke him out of his daydreams, a small chuckle rolling off his tongue.

in a world full of of curses and sorcery, inexplicably wrapped in his arms thousands of feet in the air, you were still questioning whether or not something like aliens existed. you truly did ground him, constantly tethering him to the normalcies of this world.

“yeah, probably, what do you think?”

“definitely real,” you affirmed, your eyebrows scrunched together in deep thought.

he couldn’t do much but laugh, turning you in his arms so the two of you were face to face now. you gazed down at the tiny city beneath you, one hand curled into his loose hoodie.

“i’m starting to like it up here,” you mused, turning your gaze back to him with a toothy smile, “feels like we’re the only two people who exist; everything else is so far away”.

“yeah,” he liked the sound of that, eyes crinkling up as he returned your smile, “we can do this more often if you like it”.

you gave him a quick nod, reaching up and pressing a quick peck to his curved lips. as you pulled back, you felt his hand wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you right back into another kiss — much deeper than the first. you melted into his arms, your senses devoid of anything other than his touch and the cool breeze whipping against your skin. when you finally pulled away, the two of you were safely back on the park bench again.

“i love you, satoru,” you breathed out, your anxiety from being in the air finally dispelling, “i wish we didn’t have to tip toe around together like this”.

“i know,” he gave your hand a small squeeze, “we should run away someday; somewhere far from here”.

“i’d follow you anywhere,” you returned his squeeze, sadness welling up in your heart as you thought about having to return home and not see him again for a while.

“that’s exactly what i wanted to hear,” he smirked, love welling in his chest as he reflected on how lucky the two of you were to have found each other in such an unfortunate life time.

an hour so later you were back in your bedroom, pressing hasty kisses to satoru’s soft lips as he leaned through the window. you wanted nothing more than to pull him in, ask him to stay, and spend the night wrapped in his arms — but you couldn’t, your parents would kill you and he had important missions to attend to.

“i’ll see you soon, i promise,” he gave you his signature smile, pressing one last kiss to your cheek and stepping away.

he put his hand to his mouth, placing a kiss to his fingertips and then blowing it towards you with a flirty wink — and then he flickered out of sight.

“see you,” you whispered, chest heavy and tears pricking at your eyes as you fantasized of the next time your blue-eyed lover would find his way back to you.

[anzynai]

Natural Curiosity

Genshin Impact (Xingqiu x Chongyun)

a/n: hiyaaa it’s my birthday ahhhh so i’ve decided to write xingyun as a present for myself (this is actually my first xingyun tickle fic) but wooo! this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit but it’s finally getting posted! i really enjoyed writing it too so i hope y’all enjoy it~

word count: 1.8k (my longest fic so far!!)

summary: xingqiu is curious about whether chongyun is ticklish or not and he’s going to satisfy his curiosity.

——

Today, in particular, was a perfect summer’s day in Liyue. Xingqiu and Chongyun would be fools to not take advantage of it. The weather conditions were just cool enough for Chongyun’s congenital positivity, but not too hot. The sun was out, but it did not shine on them.

Xingqiu and Chongyun were leaning on a tree, each doing their own thing but in each other’s presence. Xingqiu was invested in a book he had purchased from Wanwen Bookstore a few days earlier, while Chongyun, on the other hand, was happily munching on a popsicle he had picked up from Wanmin Restaurant.

Xingqiu’s focus was all on his book, eating every word, analyzing every paragraph. Some may say doing so would be boring, too much work, but it’s what Xingqiu enjoyed most about reading. He had an avid imagination, and he loved feeling as if he was in the book alongside those characters.

Then came a paragraph that most people would probably skim over and think nothing much of, but it piqued Xingqiu’s curiousity and he decided to read over it once more.

She giggled nervously as he grabbed her wrists with impressive force, pinning her arms above her head and immobilizing her completely. “W-wait, we can talk about this?” The man in front of her barked out a laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t think so.” He spoke, before moving one of his hands to her exposed armpit, scratching at it without warning. He grinned as she immediately burst into laughter.

Xingqiu thought about it. The concept of tickling. The majority of his family thought tickling to be a childish, unprofessional thing. Xingqiu couldn’t even remember the last time he was tickled, only ever being poked in the side by his older brother ever so often. To be honest, he had nearly forgotten about it completely. But this arose another question, something the curious boy was itching to find out.

He peeked his head over the book, eying Chongyun, who was still eating his popsicle like he had been before. Was Chongyun ticklish?

Xingqiu was polite. He had to be when he was the second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. People who didn’t know him well would never describe him as blunt. However, those who he was close to, who he truly trusted, that may as well be the first word they would come up with. His ‘true self’ was someone who spoke his mind, almost never hesitating to say what he wants to say.

“Dear Chongyun,” he started, watching the exorcist turn his head to Xingqiu, tilting his head in confusion. Xingqiu took that as a sign to continue. “are you ticklish?”

Chongyun very obviously did not expect that question, breaking out into a sputter of him trying to contain his thoughts while simultaneously trying to respond to Xingqiu. It was adorable, really, but that question and what the answer was was all that clouded Xingqiu’s mind.

“W-what? T-ticklish? Me? Uh. Huh? W-why are you asking me that?” He managed to get out. Xingqiu put a hand to his mouth in a poor attempt to suppress a snicker.

“Only natural curiousity, Chongyun dearest. What’s gotten you so flustered?” He teased, feeling a spark of pride at the ever growing blush rising on Chongyun’s cheeks.

“I-I mean, yes!” He admits at last, albeit a little loudly, coming off as a shout. It would seem that the embarrassment had finally gotten to him. He shook his arms, even dropping his popsicle. Xingqiu might’ve felt bad if Chongyun even noticed. “I’m a little ticklish.” He muttered awkwardly, staring at the ground before finally noticing the fallen popsicle. He didn’t say anything about it though, awaiting Xingqiu’s response.

“Oh? Only a little ticklish?” Xingqiu smirked, an idea popping into his head. He crawled closer to Chongyun, who was growing nervous.

“Y-yes..? Why?” He asked, not liking where this was going. Knowing Xingqiu, he was planning something and it made Chongyun very tense. Xingqiu didn’t say anything, only getting closer and closer to Chongyun. Chongyun gulped as a crooked smile found it’s way onto his face, sliding away from Xingqiu with every inch he got towards him. It was then when Xingqiu decided to pounce on Chongyun.

Chongyun yelped, startled but Xingqiu didn’t even give him any time to recover before fingers were shoved in his sides, squeezing mercilessly. The startled exorcist bursted into giggles immediately, and Xingqiu smiled, almost maliciously.

“W-wahahait, Xingqiu! Why ahahare youhuhu doing thihihis?!”

“My, my, Dear Chongyun. I just wanted to confirm whether your claim was correct or not! Just ‘a little ticklish’, you say?” Xingqiu mocked him, as Chongyun keeps giggling and flailing wildly, almost shocked for his inability to free himself. He was stronger than Xingqiu and yet he couldn’t get away at all! It seemed Xingqiu noticed too by the way he spoke his next words. “I’m surprised. I never knew such a strong claymore user like you could be reduced to a giggling mess from just a few squeezes to your hips~”

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Chongyun tried to say, glaring at him. Though, it just looked more like a wobbly smile and was not intimidating in the least.

“That’s rude of you to say, Chongyun! I think you ought to be punished for that! Now where should I tickle you next?” The reader feigned offense, putting a finger to his chin, thinking thoughtfully where to go next. Luckily for Chongyun, it gave him a moment to catch his breath. “Aha! I got it!”

He slowly moved his finger closer to his body, feeling satisfied at Chongyun’s anticipating stare, trying to figure out where he would get him next. He paused, waiting for Chongyun to grow confused. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait very long.

“Xingqiu?” He asked, hesitantly, questioning as to why Xingqiu wasn’t.. tickling him? What was Xingqiu doing?

“Yes~?” Xingqiu replied, innocently as if he didn’t have a finger pointed directly at Chongyun, frozen in place.

“W-why aren’t you…?” Chongyun stuttered on his words, unable to find his voice as the embarrassment of the question overtook him once more.

“Hm? Why aren’t I tickling you? Is that what you’re asking?” Xingqiu smirked when Chongyun nodded, defeatedly though quite flustered. “Ah, I’m not quite sure actually. Adrenaline, perhaps? Though, I can’t lie. Part of the reason was to make sure I didn’t push you too far..” Xingqiu trailed off, getting a good look at the state Chongyun is in.

Chongyun’s hair was a mess, not that it wasn’t already, but even more so. His cheeks were bright red, and he was just beginning to have finally caught his breath. However, any discomfort was easily overpowered by the relaxed state and the excited look in Chongyun’s eyes and even the ghost of a genuine soft smile nor did it seem like his congenital positivity was going to trigger soon.

“But,” Xingqiu observed, a mischievous grin taking over his features, replacing the concerned look he wore a second earlier. “It seems you are enjoying it.”

If Chongyun’s face wasn’t red enough, it went aflame at that absolutely correct accusation. Still, he shook his head wildly, determined to hide that fact.

“Denying it now, Dear Chongyun? Your efforts will be fruitless, you know~” At that, Xingqiu finally brought his hand to Chongyun’s ribs. He poked at the sensitive spots, causing Chongyun to begin laughing.

“I ahaham nohahahat e-enjOYing ihihut!” Xingqiu clicked his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment.

“Oh, dear Chongyun, why do you keep lying. I won’t make fun of you~”

“Liahahar!” Chongyun accused, though the reader made no attempt to deny it, sticking out his tongue.

“Got me~” Xingqiu brought his hands further up, noticing the way Chongyun’s laughter became more frantic the closer he got to his armpits. “Hm? What’s this? Are your armpits ticklish?”

“No!” Chongyun shouted. It was a stupid idea but Chongyun hoped that if he told you Xingqiu would give up, or at least spare him a little mercy. Yeah, right.

“Surely, you know me a little better than that?” Xingqiu rolled his eyes, having had apparently read his mind and learned his intentions. Xingqiu shook his head, staring down at him. He lifted Chongyun’s arm up, though it took quite a bit of effort with all of his moving and flailing. He circled a single finger around Chongyun’s armpit, letting the exorcist’s nerves and anticipation from the gentle touch arise.

“Plehehease!” Chongyun pleaded, one last time. Xingqiu paused, yet not stopping the light graze of his finger on Chongyun’s skin.

“Hmmm… no.” He hummed. With that, he brought his hand to the exorcist’s armpit, scribbling all five of his fingers inside the sensitive spot. From the scream Chongyun let out, Xingqiu, for a moment, thought of covering his ears. After his initial shock though, he had no trouble teasing Chongyun for his girlish squeal. “Oh my, you’re quite the loud one, aren’t you?”

Chongyun couldn’t think, his mind swirling around all at once. Xingqiu. Tickling. Teasing. Escaping. Popsicles. Congenital Positivity. Oh right, his congenital positivity! He could feel it about to trigger and he tried to tell Xingqiu but he couldn’t get the words out clear enough so Xingqiu could understand.

“w-wAhAHAH X-XIHIHINGQIU! M-MAHAHA YAHAHANG ah- ehehenERGY!” Xingqiu only gave him a puzzled look, unable to translate his words, before it quickly turned into a look of worry when he saw Chongyun’s eyes glaze over. He hadn’t noticed that Chongyun had reached his limit.

Instantly, Xingqiu pulled his hands away from the exorcist’s poor armpits. He examined him for a moment, checking exactly which stage of his yang state he was in. When Xingqiu realized it wasn’t one of the serious ones, his usual excessive passion state, he let out a deep exhale, relieved. It could have been worse and he could have triggered his.. aggressive, more violent states and that would not be fun.

“Oh, it seems I’ve unintentionally triggered your yang energy. I do apologize for that, dear Chongyun.” Xingqiu apologized, half heartedly, despite knowing that Chongyun was far too out of it to comprehend any words he would be speaking.

Chongyun grabbed his fallen popsicle off the grass. It was now was half-melted and whatever was left of the treat was covered with grass and even a few insects, mainly ants. Xingqiu grimaced upon seeing the exorcist attempt to put it back in his mouth. The exorcist apparently had not seen all the grime imbedded into the frozen snack so would make sense that Chongyun was not happy about Xingqiu slapping the popsicle out of his hand. He stood up, pouting and threw a temper tantrum, stomping, kicking, and bawling his eyes out as if he were a child.

“That was my popsicle! That wasn’t yours! Why did you do that!?” He whined, crossing his arms and glaring at Xingqiu like he was the worst person in the world. Xingqiu ignored it, though, used to Chongyun’s tantrums when he was in his yang state.

“Well, I suppose this is my karma for tickling you.” Xingqiu sighed, though a soft smile planted on his face. Xingqiu stood up as well, holding his hand out for Chongyun to hold, to which he reluctantly accepted. “Ah, Yun, let’s go get you another popsicle, shall we?”