#in his defense he was manic

[becaexists]

My DM refuses tell me anything about my character's future love interest other than he exists so I've been making passive comments like "oh wow this animatic of Caleb from Critical Role looks just like the type of guy Apate [my character] is into wow isn't that cool" and "wow aren't Arwen and Aragorn so cute in this edit I'd love to play out a dynamic like that" and she can't do shit about it because oh no I can't know anything about him!

[topicaltropic]

oops! all wips

[riseninsaturn]

klavier gavin is an internationally known rockstar you cannot tell me that this man doesn’t have a special edition Barbie or something

[wizzardhat]

at the start of the game karlach and astarion are absolutely fucking reeling from being suddenly freed and are in a state of manic joy that would probably seem alien to them like a week ago, while gale has been locked in his depression tower for so long he's almost completely forgotten how to talk to people. shadowheart has not a single fucking clue whats going on because shar keeps slurping up her memories and lae'zel is literally in the midst of her ultimate nightmare scenario and trapped on an alien planet with a bunch of jackasses who have no idea whats happening. so almost everyone has experienced a situational personality shift and isn't quite the person they were a year before you met them. EXCEPT Wyll. Who is just like "this isnt even the weirdest thing thats happened to me this month." my man got scooped up, tadpoled, and slammed back and said "oh well, not gonna ruin my day" and went about his business teaching self defense to children and slaying evil beasts. He didn't even seem confused he literally did not give a shit. no urgency. He's like "I'll put that in my day planner but is gonna have to wait until after i hunt down this demon." When you recruit him there is no sense of "oh man we really gotta help each other because we have the same problem" he just would have said yes because you asked and he's wyll. Or because you told him he could kill mindflayers. He'd be like "sick" and done, no questions asked. Just another Tuesday for the blade.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ GAME OVER!

♰ synopsis: in which you seek attention from your boyfriend and end up paying the price. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. gn!reader. full-nelson. rough sex. tummy bulging. creampie. angry(?)!nagi. minor degradation. cursing. ꒷꒦

“Stop it, Y/N.”

Seishiro warned you without looking up from his phone screen for a moment, his fingers still dancing across the glass with expert skill. You were lying beside him on the couch, your bare foot on his bicep, gently nudging him to throw him off his game. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted his attention, but instead, he chose to play some dumb mobile game. So, you decided to take it upon yourself to get his attention—by lightly kicking him until he paid attention to you.

“Y/N.” His typically soft tone grew a bit of a firm edge, with the slightest hint of frustration making itself known to you.

You giggled to yourself, partially in amusement and partially in incredulity, as you were surprised to hear the slightest infliction of irritation in your typically lax and impassive boyfriend, who, in his own words, “doesn’t get angry because it’s bothersome feeling negative”. Was that about to change? Were you finally about to make Seishiro angry?

There was only one way to find out, right?

You gave him a few moments of reprieve, allowing him to get sucked back into his game and forget about your little mischievous self, despite your antsy toes wiggling against his deltoid giving you away. It appeared to be working because Seishiro's eyes were wide and unblinking as they became laser-focused on his screen, even drawing the device closer to his face just as his tapping became near manic when you suddenly jolted your foot forth and even managed to push Seishiro aside for a second.

“Y/N!—”

GAME OVER, YOU LOSE!

You were so shocked that you could not even contain your laughter. You cackled maniacally as you were holding your stomach at the fact that Seishiro lost, moreover became frustrated with you.

“Haha, I can’t believe it! See, Sei? This is what happens when you chose to ignore me~.”

Though you quickly stopped laughing when your boyfriend's piercing gray eyes locked with yours, his stare was owlish and unwavering, boring fiercely into your own. What made matters worse was that he did not even look angry, but you could feel it radiating off of him in harsh waves that nearly suffocated you and immobilized you where you lay. Your breath caught in your throat as dread suddenly chilled your veins, your mouth gaping as you tried to think of something else to say in your defense, but it was futile.

“So that’s what that was, huh?” His tone was chilling, effectively silencing any rebuttal you could’ve thought to muster up. His head cocked to one side, fluffy bangs shadowing his unblinking eyes as they continued to pierce into your own.

“You just wanted . . . my attention?”

“M’sorry, m’sorry, Sei~! P-please, I can’t! I won’t do it again, I pr-promise—!”

Seishiro had ripped through your underwear, thrown you on top of him, and folded you in a full-nelson to fuck you silly before you could blink. You were choking on your own words as your boyfriend’s cock pistoned in and out of you at a furious pace, leaving you breathless with every unrelenting thrust, each one more vigorous than the last. You could feel him hitting the deepest parts within you, battering your inner walls, and pumping every last bit of his frustration with you into your tight hole.

“But isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N?” He muttered into your ear from behind you. The crazy bastard didn’t even sound breathless as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Wanted to make me angry? Make me lose my game, hm? You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, both in ecstasy and vexation, your jaw lulling open as you babbled incoherent curses through your drooling brims. The pleasure was so great, you felt so full, you could hardly think, let alone form a proper sentence! Not to mention, in this nigh-pornographic position, you were gifted the sight of not only your striker boyfriend pounding you senseless but also the prominent indent that appeared on your belly from every time his stupidly big cock reached the deepest depths within you.

Not caring for a response from you, Seishiro let out a series of soft, muffled grunts from his lips as his cock throbbed within you. “Since this is what you wanted, you should be able to take it, no?”

“B-But Sei! Your too—mpfh! Y-You’re too damn b—”

“—What? Big? You cry about that all the time, Y/N, and yet you take my cock like the pretty slut you are every time without fail.” You could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice as he spoke, pausing his thrusts for merely a second as he adjusted his grip on you, attempting to pry you open further as though you weren’t already splayed out above him. Interlocking his fingers behind your head and pushing himself firmly onto his heels, he basically growled into your ear, “So do me a favor and shut up and take it.”

Without warning, he used his newfound leverage to pound into you with enough force to make your vision go white and your toes curl in the air as he pummeled directly into your sweet spot, eliciting a series of pleasured shrieks and breathless mewls from your drooling lips. You’d be sure to apologize to your neighbors later.

“Ah, there it is. Y’gonna cum f’me?*” He grunted, his breath hot against your ear, as his cock twitched inside of you.

“Oh my god, y-yes! Sei, yes, yes, yes!” You squealed as the knot in your belly tightened.

“Hmmfh, then go on, pretty. Make a mess f’me.”

Before you knew it, you did exactly that, coming undone as you made a mess atop your sweaty and partially clothed bodies. Simultaneously, Seishiro let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. Your back arched off of his chest as you felt thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum shoot into your depths and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy, too, a result of Nagi not jacking off often, as he found the action to be ‘too much of a hassle when I have you’.

His grip slowly released on you, gently setting your tired and quivering legs down to rest as he lay beneath you, equally exhausted. Even as he did so, his cum still languidly pumped ropes of cum into your abused hole as it slid out of you, making a mess of the poor cushions beneath you two. You would never be able to hold it all, but as you both descended from your highs, neither of you seemed to mind.

Before you could relish in your serenity, you felt a sharp swat on your thigh from your boyfriend beneath you, who now held a small pout on his lips. “Next time you want my attention, just ask. I was about to beat my high score.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes playfully as you gazed lazily up at the ceiling. Oh right, that’s what started this mess, huh?

“Mmm, I dunno, Sei.” You drawled, your voice laced with mischief. “If you’re going to fuck me like that every time I bother you while you play, I might have to do it more often~.”

Seishiro said nothing in response. He didn’t even stir beneath you. That is, until your body was turned over and you found yourself face-down on the cushions, trapped beneath your boyfriend's weight, his thick forearm encircling your throat from behind.

“S-Seishiro—!” There was a squeal in your voice as you felt his arm tighten around your throat, pressing you hard against the cushions with his massive bulk and body weight.

“S’that how you feel, Y/N?” His voice was deep, with the faintest of growls beneath it, as he held you taut in his grasp. Between your thighs, you felt his heavy cock hardening once more as he lazily humped it against you, causing your eyes to widen. After emptying the entirety of his balls into you and fucking you into next year, he was getting hard again?!

“Maybe you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely enthralled by Seishiro when he was like this, and you would most definitely be lying if you said you weren’t going to mess with him while he played again.

ⓒ vampiie 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form. please do not share my work on tiktok or any other site.

[snowsinterlude]

playing dangerous.

c.w: gun play, peacekeeper coriolanus, fingering, rough sex, throatfucking, slapping, degrading, breeding, hate fucking, unproctected sex

based on this ask ! hope you like it anon, sorry if i got anything wrong. mwah

you could say a lot of things about coriolanus snow. you could say he was mentally unstable, that he was a whiny bitch who would throw a tantrum at any small thing that made him angry.

however, you couldn't say he was a bad fuck. not when he had your face pressed down and a gun pointed at your sopping cunt. you couldn't say he was ugly either, not with that white peacekeeper uniform hugging his body so well.

"don't worry," he whispered, biting your shoulder, "it only has one bullet." he smiled, chuckling at your clear despair, a total contrast to your soaked panties. "not as if you care, though"

"of course i do! fuck it, snow. you're the reason people call cops bastards!" you said, frowning at him as if your hips weren't bucking up on the gun. you didn't even knew if what he said was actually true.

"you should be grateful i'm not playing russian roulette on your pussy, darling." he said, thanking heaven's he handcuffed your hands before all that. "if you don't like it, i know just the right place to aim it. other than that perverted wet pussy of yours. are you a pervert? god, you're soaking wet" he said, grinding the gun in your cunt.

"aim it at your head, you sickfuck." you spat, not bothering looking at him.

"i don't know if you noticed but i have a gun pointed to your pussy, if you don't wanna get shot you should start being a good girl instead of a manic bitch." he said, slapping your ass and making your body jolt.

how the hell did it come to this?! you remembered that he had returned home after deployment and your parents made you go over to his house to give him some sweet dessert as a way to ❛thank him for his services.❜ fuck it. you hated him. if depended on you, he would have been killed by a rebel or something, but god, that's the best dick you've ever seen or felt, even if through grinding. you would never admit it to him though.

"on your knees, please." he said, a fake chivalry on his sadistic tone. and did you have any other options? of course not. so now you were on your knees, gulping down and watching him unbuckle his pants, his hand slapping your face lightly to make you wake up and stop looking so much at his eight inches shaft. "god, you're drooling so much just from looking. guess i won't have to aim a gun to your head for you to suck it." he said, and you stared at him with anger.

"you better kill me already cause i am not sucking that thing." you said.

well, all your defenses were throw away as he pointed the loaded gun to your head, smiling as you opened your mouth and engulfed him obediently, still looking at him with that angry stare in your eyes, that was soon replaced with tears as you took him. god, how could a dick taste so good?

"fuck, you're taking me so good, doll." he said, smiling as you drooled on his dick, getting it all wet from your saliva. "making such a mess, crying so much... you're so pretty when you're not running your mouth around so much." he said, grabbing your hair and making you curse mentally before he started to fuck your throat, his balls meeting your chin as you took him, giving in as you moaned against his cock.

too aggressive, you thought. but it was just as good as you imagined it to be. and he was getting just what he wanted to. he was fucking that attitude out of you, your throat taking him so well he only wondered how good it would feel to fuck your cunt. with that thought in mind, he pulled back of your mouth, and you thought you were really dumb from how you tried to get him to thrust into your mouth again. you wanted to taste him, and he couldn't help but chuckle at your despair.

"i didn't even had a proper taste of your cunt and you're already dumb? thought you were stronger." he said, getting you to stand up as you were still salivating. he cleaned your tear stained cheeks, the softest thing he would do to you today. so, ripping your panties and seeing your cunt, he thrusted two fingers in it, not mindinho if you were uncomfortable. your wetness made it very clear that you weren't anywhere close to discomfort or pain. and your moans did it too.

"fuck it, get away, coriolanus!" you pleaded, not wanting to be the one moaning his name that night. and he didn’t even bother listening to you, too occupied with thrusting his entire lenght inside of you. it felt horribly good, his hot cock sloppily fucking your pussy as he fucked you in missionary, holding your left thigh to hug his waist just so he could have a better access to you. so good. so hot. it felt perfect.

you felt dumb.

your eyes closed shut as you did your best to hold in your moans, letting out a few groans and grunts as he slapped your ass, getting a hold of your other thigh and fucking you with your back against the wall, your eyes looking into his. fuck. you prayed to god that he wouldn’t end up making you say something, but god didn't seem to want to help you.

"tell me, doll," he started, groaning against your lips. "who does this pussy belongs to?" he asked, and you did your best not to answer, but the way your hips were trying to buck against his seemed as an answer. "words, bunny. use your words."

"n-no. no- i won't- fuck!" you moaned, lips opened slightly as you couldn't help but let your moans out of your mouth. you just wanted to cum already. it was too brain-mushing for you to do something other than moan and squeeze his dick inside you.

"tell me, or i'm not gonna let you cum." he said, brushing the gun on your clit, the cold metal making you mewl and cry.

"i-it's yours, c-coryo. it's yours. i'm sorry! please let me cum!" you begged, crying. he smiled, kissing your cheek and tasting your salty tear drop.

"i don't recall letting you call me coryo, bunny." he said, his dick kissing your cervix as you felt it throbbing inside you.

"o-officer! fuck, i'm sorry!" you slurred, and finally he had what he wanted.

he finally fucked the attitude out of you. not only that but he also got his dick wet. it was perfect.

"good girl." and you came, shaking on his cock as he kept thrusting in you, running for his climax.

once he did came inside you, he didn’t allow you to clean yourself, made you walk and sleep with your pussy filled by his cum.

[zorrasucia]

this mess was yours (now your mess is mine) - Part 1

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (6.4k)

Tags: Smut, Set two(ish) years before the present aka the New York years, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), Mutual Masturbation, P in V Sex, Thigh Riding, Handjob, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Friends with Benefits, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary: Carmy is your front door neighbor. You fall head first into a friends with benefits situationship. What could possibly go wrong?

"You know, I had never met someone so committed to ghosting. Leaving the city... That's a whole other level," you said, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Not as bitter as the sight of Carmy, though. He looked beautiful still, eyes wide with surprise and face red with embarrassment. You were in the alley behind the restaurant, where he had dragged you away from the staff mumbling something about "an old friend from New York."

"I've been uh-" his hands were fiddling with a spoon somewhat manically.

"I know," you interrupted. "I read your spread in Food and Wine. I was at the dentist and they had the magazine. Imagine my surprise when I saw that my neighbor, sorry, ex neighbor and ex friend with benefits, was the main story of a culinary magazine."

You were being melodramatic, you knew. But you had earned it. It had been months, fucking months, and not a word - he could be dead for all you knew.

"I told you I was a chef," he said sheepishly.

"Fuck you, Carmy."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fair," he admitted with a deep sigh. "Do you, uh, wanna talk?"

"Yes."

2 years earlier

The elevator of your shitty, overpriced building was out of order for the third time this year. Fuck. As you climbed up the stairs you started hearing someone on the phone, his voice gruff.

"Sugar called. She is worried about the restaurant, she's worried about you..."

As you got closer you started to make out the voice on the other side of the phone, rougher, defensive, and very loud.

"My baby brother is worried about me? Well, fuck me. I must be a real goddamn mess, huh?"

"Don't be like that, Mikey. If you need me to come back, just fucking say it."

It was your front door neighbor, you realized. He was leaning on the wall by his door, rummaging through his backpack, his face scrunched up and red.

"Don't bother coming over, hot shot, everything's under control," the voice on the phone said, a little condescending.

"That your stupid little brother? Tell him to go fuck himself, will you, Mike?" a second voice chimed in, followed by the defeaning sound of a hundred knives and forks falling to the ground. "Fuck me!"

And the line went silent. You stood awkwardly, hand on your doorknob, waiting. You glanced at your neighbor and found his gaze vacant as he stood in front of his apartment door, keys in hand, standing still. He honestly looked on the edge of a meltdown and your heart ached for him.  

"It's Carmy, right?"

Your voice woke him up from his daydream - probably more like day-nightmare.

"Yeah. Hi," he managed, absent. He was still fiddling with his keys.

"No offense but you look like shit," you said and it made him huff half a laugh - he looked pretty when he smiled. "Wanna come in for a drink?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Carmy replied and followed you inside the apartment.

"So what do you want?" you asked, head inside the fridge. "I have beer-"

"Actually, uh, I don't drink," Carmy said like he had just remembered.

"Oh, so coffee? It's a little late but I think I have decaf somewhere..." you offered gently, moving towards the pantry.

'It's- never mind," he said, looking conflicted, walking backwards, to the door. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight," he winced and your heart skipped a beat. "That sounded awful. Sorry, I- uh- I'll leave."

"It's okay," you said, a shy smile curving your lips. "I've been trying to hit on you for months so it's more than okay."

"Oh!" Carmy froze, eyebrows arched, stunned.

"Yeah," you looked down at the floor, face flushed. "Gave up for a minute there. Thought you had a girlfriend or boyfriend so I-"

"No, there's nobody," he rushed to say. "I'm just busy."

"Workaholic?" you guessed.

"Yeah," he admitted.

You moved towards him, slow, Carmy's blue eyes following the movement of your hips. You stood right in front of him, one hand raising to touch his arm, up his shoulder and then holding his face.

He blurted: "You're pretty."

"You're cute too," you replied, smiling.

You leaned forward and kissed him. Carmy returned the kiss, gentle, soft, your hands tangling in his hair. You parted for a second, eyes searching his, finding him flushed. It was only a second of hesitation before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close, kissing hungrily, his tongue touching yours, holding you tight like you were a lifeline - like he needed this as much as you did.

"Bedroom?" you asked breathily the moment he started kissing your neck.

He nodded and pushed you gently past the kitchen. It was a good thing he had a vague idea where it was.

You hit the edge of the mattress and leaned backwards, dragging him into bed with you, opening your legs to let him settle there. He kept kissing your jaw and collarbone, tickling your skin with his curls, humming while you raked your nails through his scalp. Suddenly, his hands moved from holding your waist to squeezing your ass; you tugged at his hair in surprise and Carmy let out a sound between a yelp and a moan. It made you melt and giggle, bringing him closer still.

Your hands moved down, tickling as they reached the hem of his shirt; Carmy sat up and removed it, desperate.

"Fuck," you muttered, your fingers tracing the lines and planes of his torso for a moment. He was gorgeous.

It had gotten way too hot inside the room and his touch was making you dizzy, so you got rid of your shirt too, a plain beige bra underneath. His fingers traced the edges of the cups, leaving goosebumps on your skin, making you sigh with pleasure. It wasn't enough, though.

"Wait," you gasped and he froze immediately.

"You alright?" he asked, looking up, like he was scared he had done something wrong.

You cupped his face gently. "I'm just taking it off," you giggled, letting go of his face to open the clasp and tug it down. "This isn't even a nice one," you lamented, thinking of a dark lace ensemble, used only once and with someone less enthusiastic about you than Carmy. Still, his eyes became impossibly wide once your bra was off.

"Shit," Carmy whispered, burying his face in the valley between your breasts, eager, leaving kisses everywhere, carefully sucking on your nipples. You arched your back and held him tighter, urging him to get closer - you wished he was a little rougher but the tender way that he was going about things was nice. You felt cared for.

Your hands went down his stomach, fingers hooking in his belt loops, tugging with need. He stopped for a moment, looking straight into your eyes.

"Do you want me to-?" he hesitated.

"We can just keep making out but I'd like you to fuck me," you said plainly. "If you want."

He nodded, dazed. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

You tugged at his trousers, fighting with the belt buckle for a moment in your haste.

"Hold on. Let me," he said, getting rid of his slacks while you took both your jeans and underwear off at once. He gave you a wide eyed stare as he finally threw his boxer briefs carelessly to the floor.

The atmosphere was charged as you laid down facing each other.

Almost as if to break the tension, one of your hands reached out for his cock, caressing it, making him groan.

"So soft," you mumbled.

He rushed to touch you too, cupping your pussy. His fingers were shaking a little, which gave you pause. You touched his wrist, rubbing your thumb on his tattooed skin. He looked at you.

"Sorry, I'm uh-"

"Nervous?" you prompted and he nodded. "Yeah, same. I've had a dry spell of... Almost eight months. You?"

"Years," he said, clearing his throat.

"Fuck. That's tough," you said with a sympathetic smile, your hand letting go of his cock to caress his shoulder blade instead, reassuring. "How are you at following directions?"

"Honestly, pretty fucking great," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"We can work with that."

You grabbed his right hand, and took his middle finger in your mouth, sucking on it thoroughly, a shiver running down Carmy's spine. You guided his hand back between your folds, dragging it up the length of your cunt until the tip of his finger was right on your clit. You closed your eyes in pleasure, his long, calloused fingers feeling delicious on you.

"There," you said breathily.

"How?" Carmy asked.

"Circles."

Your eyes fluttered once he started moving, slow and feathery. Your hand caressed the head of his cock and the sudden touch made Carmy's hand stutter and then stop completely.

"You first," he mumbled, taking your hand and placing it on his chest instead.

"A gentleman," you joked breathily, tracing one of his tattoos with the tip of your nail. You were getting flustered again now that his finger was moving faster. "A little to your right... Fuck, that feels good, Carmy."

He offered you a wicked smile in return.

"Faster?" he asked.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.

"Keep doing it just like that. Don't change a fucking thing," you pleaded, moving closer, your leg over his hip to give him more access, holding tight to his shoulders. "Fuck, your hands! So good, so good, so good," you mumbled nonsensically into his ear and Carmy smiled wide. You started kissing him frantically, getting closer and closer. "Oh!"

You stiffened in his hold, legs shaking a little, and a long moan leaving your lips. His finger was still moving, helping you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"You okay?" he asked after a minute.

"Yeah," you sighed, and leaned to kiss him, all tongue, lust drunk. "Thank you."

Your hand reached for his cock, finding it achingly hard, Carmy's eyes rolled back at the touch. He moaned. There was a lot of precum on his tip. Was all that from just hearing and seeing you?

"I'll probably fucking embarrass myself but I really wanna be inside you," Carmy managed breathily.

You smiled and grabbed a condom from your bedside table.

"Do you want me to put it on?" you asked when you saw him hesitate to take it out.

"Go ahead," he watched your hands roll the condom on, eyes wide as you held him. "Fuck."

He grabbed your leg and hoisted it back over his hip. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you sighed, guiding his cock inside you with one hand and holding his arm with the other. "I know it's been a while so don't worry if you don't last," you said.

Did you want Carmy to fuck you hard and long? Yes. But you were reasonable.

He nodded sheepishly, moving gently until he was completely buried inside you.

"Fuck, you're so warm," Carmy said, eyes closed in concentration. "So tight."

You chuckled against the side of his face, flushed and hot.

"You feel amazing too," you said, the stretch of your pussy delicious and satisfying. You kissed his temple and his cheek, already a little sweaty and salty. "You can move now."

He didn't need to be told twice. The slam of his hips was frantic from the beginning, feral sounds coming from his chest, it was exactly what you needed. You realized Carmy was probably working his shit out while fucking you but it didn't feel like he was using you at all. He was completely present: his eyes on your face, his mouth on your skin, and his hands caressing you.

"Are you good?" he asked.

"So fucking good," you replied, your recent orgasm leaving you sensitive and electrified. "You're already lasting longer than I thought you would," you said with a giggle.

"Fuck off," he said lightly.

Suddenly, you went back to the third or fourth time you had seen Carmy, crossing paths in the staircase, the primal part of your brain fantasizing about what it would be like to have sex with him, you on top, his strong hands holding your hips possessively. If this was a one time thing, you should make the most of it, right?

"Can I-? Fuck. Will you let me ride you, Carmy?" you said.

His pupils dilated with desire. "Yes. Fuck," he blurted out, rolling over almost immediately.

You settled on his hips, the angle doing wonders for you - his tip brushed your G spot and your clit touched the hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuck."

You took his hands and placed them over your hips, while you pressed your palms to his sculpted chest.

"You're so fucking hot. It's ridiculous," you said, wild with need. It made him blush down to his collarbones.

You kept your eyes on his as you lifted your hips, then sat back down on him.

"Holy shit," he gasped.

"Yeah?" you checked in.

"Yeah. Keep going," he pleaded.

And you did. You started building an undulating rhythm, Carmy's mouth was open and his brows were furrowed. His blue eyes took you in completely: the bounce of your breasts, the curve of your stomach, the way your torso arched with every stroke. His hands moved upwards, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples, unconsciously making you go faster and squeeze your cunt around his cock.

"Please," Carmy keened.

You felt him struggle, he was close.

"Hold on just a little bit," you whispered. "I'll make it good for you, Carmy."

He nodded, red in the face.

You began riding him hard and fast, the bed squeaking underneath you.

"Oh, fuck!" he moaned. "Fuck, shit, Jesus Christ..."

You went faster and faster until the string of curses leaving his lips became completely unintelligible and his body tensed underneath you.

"Come on," you leaned forward, your hair caressing his chest and your lips grazing his cheek. "Let go."

He came with a series of guttural groans, holding you tight as your hips kept moving, rutting into his, chasing the last remnants of pleasure you both could get.

He let out a long exhale and you dismounted, your thighs shaking at the effort.

"You okay?" he asked. He looked slightly embarrassed as he took off the condom and tied it up.

"Just a little sore," you reassured him, settling next to him on the mattress.

His hand caressed your thigh, trying to soothe the ache in some small way - the gesture made you melt inside a little. You ran your fingers through his hair, his face was sweaty and beautiful.

"What do you do for a living?" you asked.

"I'm a chef," Carmy replied simply.

"Huh. I would have guessed tattoo artist," you said honestly, a finger tracing the ink on his forearm.

"I get that," he gave you a soft smile. "You?"

"I work at a bookstore."

"Makes sense," he hummed, eyeing the packed bookshelves in your room and the small piles of books on your bedside table. You stayed in silence for a while, just caressing each other, his fingers tracing pictures on your thighs. "That was amazing," he said.

"Yeah," you agreed, giddy. Your orgasm must have given you courage because you heard yourself saying: "Wanna do it again sometime?"

Carmy turned to look at you, slightly alarmed, like everything that had happened was a dream and he was suddenly awake. For a second, you were scared that he would bolt out of your bed and your apartment.

"I'm not good with relationships," he said in the end.

"Oh! No, I meant the sex bit," you smiled. "I'm not looking for a relationship either."

You weren't. Your life was enough of a fucking mess without some guy that could upend it by cheating on you or knocking you up.

"Hey, no need to say yes. I'm a big girl, I can take no for an answer," you reassured him.

He rolled over and kissed you hard.

"Yes, I want to do this again."

~

Carmy had left without waking you the morning after you fucked, scribbling a note on a napkin: "Early morning at the restaurant. See you soon? C."

You didn't see him for a few days though, not even a glimpse as you crossed each other in the hallway, but you hadn't stopped thinking about him - his hands, his eyes, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you... You thought about him while you touched yourself late that following night, gasping his name as you came.

It was a relief then to see him about to knock on your door two nights later, takeaway container in hand, as you climbed up the stairs.

"Carmy," you said fondly.

"Oh!" He turned with wide eyes. "I just wanted to- Would you like to come over for some food?"

You beamed. "Did you make it?"

"Sort of," he shrugged. "It's- uh- leftovers from the restaurant. They're good though."

"Well, how can I say no to leftovers?" you teased and followed him inside his apartment.

It was the same floor plan as yours, only mirrored, and with less stuff - a lot less.

"You sure you live here?" you asked, eyeing the empty, stark rooms.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I don't spend much time in it, though."

Carmy warmed up the food and placed it carefully on two plates, it looked like he was making an effort to be casual about it.

"What kind of restaurant do you work in?" you asked as he handed you a plate. "It smells delicious, by the way."

"Uh, fine dining," he said absently, guiding you to the couch. "You like risotto? Didn't think to ask, sorry."

"It's okay," you shrugged, taking a forkful and almost immediately moaning in delight. "Shut the fuck up! You made this?"

Carmy blushed and looked down. "We never do portions this big but I figured you'd be hungry," he said.

"You thought correctly," you said, swaying a little from how good the food was. It made him give you an endeared look. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," he insisted.

You kept eating in comfortable silence.

"Truly one of the best meals I've had," you said earnestly once you were finished.

Carmy took your clean plate and his half finished one to the kitchen, coming back to sit beside you.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine," you said, half turning in your seat to take a good look at him. "Sales wise it was shit, according to my manager, but one little girl told me I was cool, so..."

He smiled wide. "Did she get anything?"

"Well, she wanted a book on planets and space. Her parents wanted to buy her an encyclopedia of some sort. It was for kids but still..." you scrunched your nose. "It took some convincing but her parents finally caved in."

"I think she was right," he said softly.

"Mmm?"

"I think you're pretty cool," he said, leaning over to kiss you.

It was gentle, measured, lovely.

"And you?" you asked when you parted. "How was your day?"

Something dark clouded over Carmy's face. "Let's not talk about my day," he rasped and then kissed you hard.

It was wild, hungry, needy.

You scooted closer to Carmy, running your fingers through his hair, humming in pleasure as his tongue touched yours. The angle was weird, and so you climbed over the couch, aiming to straddle his hips but settling on his thigh by accident. He bit on your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

"Fuck, Carmy," you blurted out.

His lips started kissing the length of your neck, down your collarbone, over your shirt. You took the hint and took your shirt off, proud that your bra was a little nicer than last time.

"Shit," he mumbled, kissing your breasts, up the cup, and through the lace.

You started grinding on his clothed thigh to relieve the ache between your legs, moaning every few thrusts.

"Is that good?" he asked breathily.

"Yeah," you sighed.

You could feel every seam of your jeans against his muscled thigh. If you weren't so horny, maybe you would feel a little embarrassed about dry humping your neighbor like a fucking teenager but Carmy didn't seem to mind - if anything, he seemed to like it. He held tight to your hips and angled his leg upward so that it would rub against your crotch easier, his eyes marveling at the way your body moved.

"You look so fucking hot," he mumbled into your skin. "Been thinking about you for days... About fucking you again... Making you feel good..."

You had always been a sucker for praise and there was something about Carmy saying nice things on that dirty tone that made you melt.

"Yeah?" you held his face, tilting it so he could look at you. "I've been touching myself thinking of you. Been making myself come thinking of your fingers on my clit and your cock inside me."

"Fuck," he uttered, mouth agape. After a moment of just staring at you, he surged forward and kissed you, mouth open, passionate. The crotch of your jeans was soaked with your arousal, wetting Carmy's slacks too. His hands on your hips urged you to go faster, to get your release.

"Close?" he asked.

You moaned needily into his mouth as a response.

Carmy slid the straps of your bra downwards,

not bothering to open it, and he took one of your nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers.

"Shit! Fuck!" you cursed, the tightness in your belly snapping while you kept grinding on Carmy's thigh. He left soft kisses on the skin of your chest and caressed your waist while you came down from your high.

"So hot," he mumbled. "So fucking hot."

You giggled, and caressed his face not knowing what to say. You moved to straddle him properly, eager to feel his hardness against your core. He groaned.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" you asked flirtatiously, your palm touching right over his erection.

Carmy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I do," he panted. "Fuck."

You leaned downward, kissing the side of his neck and face. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

He froze.

"Shit."

You sat back, an incredulous look on your face.

"Carmy, really?"

He was flushed with embarrassment. "Even if I had one, it would be expired."

"I'll go get one from my apartment," you said. When you tried to get up, his strong hands kept your hips in place.

"Stay," he pleaded.

"Carmy, you're cute as fuck but no," you declared, rearranging the straps of your bra. "It's just across the hall."

"Wait, wait. I didn't mean we should do it without-" he searched for your gaze. "I meant I don't want you to leave, that's all. We don't have to do anything tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he exhaled, arching his neck to kiss you sweetly.

You giggled. "Next time I come over there better condoms."

"Definitely," he agreed.

You kept making out for a while, his calloused hands tracing pictures on your back, and his tongue touching yours gently. You moved forward a little and pressed on his erection accidentally. He let out a loud groan.

"Sorry," you apologized. "There's something we can do," you said softly, undoing his belt and the buttons of his slacks. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes."

You took his cock in your hand, spreading his precum down the length of it. Your other hand went inside your jeans, gathering arousal to use as lube. Carmy shivered underneath you.

"What do you like?" you asked, pumping his cock slowly, watching Carmy's chest move quicker as you did.

"The tip, with your thumb," he managed. You did as he asked, swiping over his slit, once. He nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah, when I'm close I do that. And just fast. I like it fast."

"Would you let me start slow, though?"

He smiled, running a hand through his messed up hair. "Yeah."

You tortured him a little, to be honest.

You caressed every ridge and vein on his cock, lovingly, slowly, and you kissed his lips through it, swallowing his moans.

"Fuck, it never feels this way," he praised. "So good."

"I'm going to go faster now, the way you like it, okay?"

He nodded desperately. "Please."

You pumped him as fast as you could, watching him become a mess under you, rolling his eyes and shaking.

"Fuck, I'm close," he keened.

You kept on that frantic rhythm with one hand and caressed his head with the other, like he told you. In seconds he was coming all over your hand and forearm, some droplets falling on your belly and chest. You were a goddamn mess but so was Carmy - his eyes unfocused and an absent smile on his face.

"Good?" you asked proudly.

"Tremendous," he chuckled and moved to kiss you holding you tight to his body.

"Careful, I've got- uh-" you giggled, gesturing at the stripes of cum all over your right side.

"Fuck, didn't think about that, wait."

He took his shirt off and wiped you clean with it, kissing you deeply once he was done. He dragged you to lie on the couch with him.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologized.

"Sex is messy," you shrugged.

"Guess I don't have much experience on the subject," Carmy said absently.

"I find it hard to believe with the way you look," you flirted, caressing the muscles of his arm.

"What if- uh- what if I told you you are my first?" he said.

"As in the first person you had sex with?" you confirmed.

He nodded.

"I'd find it even harder to believe," you said, tracing the contours of his face with your finger, the arch of his nose. "But I'd thank you for telling me."

Carmy smiled with relief and kissed you again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said softly.

"Sure."

"When you came thinking of me, what were you doing?"

You blushed and covered your face, the reality of what you had said hitting just now.

"Uh," you hesitated, "well, I was fucking my fingers."

"Would you show me?"

You turned to look at him, his eyes were dark and dead serious.

"Fuck, Carmy," you exhaled. "I thought you were wiped out and this was your idea of pillow talk."

"Oh, I'm wiped the fuck out," he agreed. "It just seems like you aren't," he added with a smile.

You smirked. "Alright."

With your eyes on his, you unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down your legs along with your underwear, both still wet with your arousal. You opened your legs, one dangling over the edge of the couch and the other pressed against Carmy's body. His hand hooked under the bend of your knee, holding you, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. You shivered.

Carmy's eyes followed your hand as it rested on your mound, your middle and ring fingers going easily inside your cunt with how wet you were.

"Fuck," he said, entranced, watching your fingers go in, knuckle by knuckle.

You arched your back and moaned. Every feeling was heightened by having Carmy watch you. You started curling your fingers inside you, brushing your G spot, gasping. Then, you began thrusting your fingers in and out, your hips chasing the feeling too. Before you could get too carried away, Carmy touched your arm, his fingers closing on the wrist that was giving you pleasure.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Yes," you panted, your cunt clenching at the thought of his calloused hands.

You took your fingers out with a wince. His middle finger traced the contour of your clit, making you shiver and giggle nervously.

"Tell me if I'm fucking up," he said shyly.

"Yes." You kissed the side of his face, encouraging him as his index poked at your entrance. "Little lower. Yes."

He had no trouble fitting in one finger with how wet you were. The second one was a tighter fit.

"Slow, slow," you instructed him, humming with pleasure at the stretch, grabbing at his bicep once every knuckle was inside you. "Fuck..."

He curled his fingers inside you, caressing your walls gently. You let out a loud moan when he touched your G spot.

"Oh! Is that-?" he asked. "It feels different."

"Yeah," you whined because he stopped. "Keep going, Carmy, please."

"Right, right, sorry," he chuckled and continued, his long fingers reaching the depths of you, growing more confident and bolder in their movements.

One of your hands was leaving crescent moon imprints on his bicep - your nails digging in his flesh as your pleasure grew.

"My clit, touch my clit, please," you begged and he rushed to press his thumb on it, circling it, your body responding immediately, arching and clenching.

When you opened your eyes, something proud was coloring Carmy's features.

"Keep going, you're doing so good, making me feel so fucking good, Carmy," you mumbled, burying your face in his neck, panting. Your words made him go faster and a little rougher. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come."

Your voice was so whiny you didn't recognize it but you couldn't concentrate on that, not when Carmy was three knuckles deep inside you, hitting your G spot with every stroke, breathing hard against your skin.

"Are you gonna think about this the next time you touch yourself?" he rasped and you unraveled, seeing stars while you rutted against his hand, drowning your moans on his shoulder, grabbing the cushions of his couch like they were the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You okay?" Carmy asked after what felt like a long time, though probably it only was a couple of minutes. Your cunt was still throbbing deliciously around his fingers.

"I'm perfect," you sighed, grabbing his face for a messy kiss.

"Wiped out?" he asked.

"Not sure I'll be able to walk back to my apartment actually," you giggled, eyes half lidded. "You are truly incredible at following instructions," you teased.

"Told you," he played along, kissing your shoulder gently as he took out his fingers. "You can sleep over if you want," he offered.

"Nah, I need to take a shower," you sighed, a little sad that you had to get rid of the smell of Carmy and sex. You grabbed your shirt and underwear from the floor. "I'll sleep here next time," you promised.

"Next time?" Carmy asked, watching you get up and get dressed.

"Yeah, next time," you insisted flirtatiously. "When you buy condoms."

He laughed.

You leaned downward to kiss him sweetly.

"Thank you. It was good, so good," you said earnestly.

"Fuck. You were amazing too," he replied.

You walked to the door. "Good night, Carmy."

"Good night."

~

You were brushing your hair in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh out of the shower, warm and relieved after a long day. An insistent knock on your door made you roll your eyes in irritation.

"Who is it?"

"Carmy!"

Your heart raced a little and you smiled. You opened the door and sure enough, there he was, disheveled and beautiful, wrapped up in his wool coat.

"Hello," you said with a shy smile.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Carmy said, gesturing vaguely at your wet hair and bathrobe. You rearranged it and he blushed a little - which was terribly endearing considering he had seen your pussy up close not even a week ago.

"You're not interrupting anything," you replied. Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached out and touched his cheek, red from the cold. "You're freezing. Want to come in? I can make us some tea."

"Yeah, that would be nice," he walked in behind you, toed off his shoes, left his coat on the couch, and followed you inside the kitchen.

"Chamomile?"

"Sure."

You went through the preparations in silence, there was a sigh of relief once he grabbed the mug you were offering and held it between his hands.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of your tea. "Bad day?"

"Always," Carmy replied and some part of you knew he wasn't joking.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Is it really that bad inside a kitchen?"

"Whatever you're imagining, it's ten times worse," he rasped. "Twenty if you have an asshole for a boss."

"And do you?"

"Oh, yeah. The worst," he took a big gulp of tea - you were almost certain he had burnt his tongue with it.

"Then why do you do it?" you tilted your head, searching for his eyes.

"It's- It's- " he hesitated. "It's everything. It's a way of communicating, it's taking care of other people, it's beautiful and complex..."

"And you love it," you concluded.

"I do. Yeah," Carmy ended with a heavy sigh.

"Wait here," you said, handing him your mug, padding to your bedroom and coming back with a coffee table book. "Here," you exchanged your mug for the hardcover and sat on the counter.

Carmy took it and looked at it carefully. It was a book on fine dining - pages and pages of beautifully plated dishes from different restaurants in Europe.

"This is so cool," he flipped through the pages. "I worked here," he said, beaming.

"Did you learn how to make that dish?" you asked.

"Yeah, must have the recipe somewhere... Thanks for showing me this," he said after a while, taking the book and handing it back to you.

You shook your head. "That's yours."

"I can't take it," Carmy refused.

"Yes, you can," you insisted. "A friend gave it to me as a house warming present and I never even opened it. You would be doing me a favor," when you saw Carmy was about to argue some more you doubled down. "Do I look like I need more books in here?"

He chuckled and shook his head, placing the book on the table, giving in.

He walked towards you. "Thanks. I mean it."

"You're very welcome," you said earnestly when he leaned in to kiss you.

Carmy nuzzled the side of your face, then down your neck.

"You smell amazing," he said softly. "Coconut."

"That's my conditioner," you smiled and held him closer.

"Lavender, rosemary," he mumbled into your collarbone.

"My body wash."

He already had you gasping for breath as he kept kissing you, standing between your legs, pulling you closer by the bend of the knee. He ran his tattooed hands up and down your thighs, his finger tips still a little cold.

"Can I taste you?"

"Yes. Please."

Carmy knelt before you, something dark and hungry coming to life in your belly as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. He opened up your robe and found you bare. Then, he started peppering kisses up and down the insides of your thighs, kneading your ass in his hands, getting you flustered without even touching your cunt.

"Let me know when it's good, alright? Like last time," Carmy said against the skin of your thigh, you could feel his face warming up.

"Yeah. Though you're already doing better than my last two boyfriends, Carm," you said lightly, caressing his hair.

He chuckled against your skin and the whisper of air between your legs made you shiver.

The tip of his tongue caressed your folds, gently, teasing. You hummed softly, closing your eyes. Then, he flattened his tongue, going up your cunt several times, faster and faster, lapping at your entrance, getting a taste of your arousal and humming in response.

"Shit," you managed.

"Mhmm?" he checked in, not letting go of you.

"Yes," you moaned louder. "It's good."

He kissed his way up your clit, rubbing his nose on it before he started licking at it diligently.

"Suck on it, please. Oh, fuck. Fuck," you arched your back. "Can you- Shit, Carmy- Can you put your fingers inside me?" you pleaded.

He let go for a moment, his mouth and your arousal making a lewd sound as he parted. His middle finger traced around your cunt, gathering wetness before going inside you in one swift thrust.

"Yes. Perfect."

"Another?" you looked into Carmy's eyes, he was flushed and giddy.

You nodded and his index finger joined the middle, a smirk curving his wet lips when he made you moan with a simple curl of his fingers.

"You're a menace," you teased and he laughed.

"Keep looking at me," he said, going back between your legs, eyes on you as he continued sucking your clit.

"Fuck, that feels good," you were breathing hard, fingers tugging on Carmy's curls, your bathrobe completely undone. He moaned hard when your pussy clenched on his fingers, the vibration making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're making me feel so good, Carmy," you praised breathlessly, one of your hands squeezing your breast unconsciously. "I'm close." He arched an eyebrow, questioning. "A little faster. Fuck me with your fingers."

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, fast, while his lips sucked on your clit frantically, wet noises turning you on even more.

"Just like that, just like that," you moaned. "Keep going, please, please, please..."

You kept looking at him, seeing his eyes shut in pleasure when you fluttered around his knuckles. Your orgasm hit you hard and had you screaming and thrusting against his face before you could stop - his strong arms kept you in place.

"Oh, my God," you keened as he kept going, prolonging your orgasm until it was almost too much to bear, senseless praise flowing freely from your lips. "You're so fucking good, Carm. Make me feel so good."

Everything was warm, white and fuzzy.

Carmy stopped his movements abruptly. You felt him groan needily against your cunt, turning his face to bite on the flesh of your thigh. Looking down, you realized he was palming his cock over his slacks. He had come to the sound and the taste of you.

You tugged on his hair to get him up on his feet and kiss him. His lips were red and swollen, and his tongue tasted like you. When you parted, you saw a satisfied and sedated look on his face.

"Never had a guy do that."

"Eat you out?" he asked, disoriented. His hair was a fucking mess.

You ran your hands through his curls lovingly. "No. Make me cum that hard. Enjoy eating me out that much."

"It was hard not to," Carmy replied. "The fucking sounds you make..."

You hid your face in his shoulder, cheeks burning red.

"I'll try to be quiet next time."

"Please don't," he rasped, tilting your head to kiss you hard.

~

[Part 2]

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[0x-cinder]

Fem!Reader is under the control of an unknown force. Zoro cannot bring himself to take her down.

Content Warnings: violence and a bit of angst (with comfort 🙂‍↕️)

"Who are you?"

After 20 minutes of belligerent fighting, Zoro finally dealt the finishing blow to his opponent, who crumpled to the ground with a thud. Sheathing his swords, he began scanning the battlefield for you, who had been fighting by his side until moments ago before another enemy pulled you away.

When his gaze reached you, you were doubled over on the ground, clutching your head as if you were suffering immense pain. The swordsman rushed towards you. Despite the chaos around him, the only thing he saw was you.

Then your body went limp, your hands falling to your lap. Zoro paused as you stood, arms swinging by your sides, clutching your swords.

You turned to face him. Relief rushed through his body as he saw that you were alive... but something was off. You weren't looking at him the same way you usually did, with bright eyes and a big smile. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all; your gaze was focused on the ground beneath his feet.

"Oi, you okay?" Zoro called as he continued his approach cautiously. He watched carefully as you moved into an offensive stance, drawing your swords as if you were about to attack him.

Your darkened eyes slid up to his, and your mouth twisted into a manic smile. "Roronoa Zoro..." You chuckled. Your serious tone and unfamiliar expression caught the swordsman off guard.

"Hey... That's not funny. Quit playing around." Zoro reached out to take your arm.

Then you attacked. Slashing at him first with your left sword, then your right. Zoro jumped away, barely dodging your blades.

"What the hell?" He shouted, "What was that for?"

You chuckled ominously in response before running towards him to attack again.

"I'm going to kill you, Pirate Hunter," you declared.

Zoro sidestepped your third strike. He didn't know what was happening, but this wasn't like you at all. Your attacks were clumsy and reckless. This wasn't how he taught you to wield your swords.

"What's with you?" he grunted as he drew his swords to block your assault. "Snap out of it."

You laughed, "Only on the defense? C'mon, have a bit of fun!"

Zoro's brain ran through a thousand reasons why you could be acting like this, each idea more confusing than the last.

"I'd love to spar later, Princess." he grunted, "but I really need you to tell me what the fuck is going on."

You swung both swords down with all your might as your laughter turned into a crazed giggle, "I knew it! You won't hurt this body. None of you silly Straw Hats will."

A shiver ran down Zoro's spine as your swords clashed against his. This wasn't you. This wasn't the girl he'd spent hours training, the girl that'd fall asleep during long meditation sessions, or the one that would bandage him up when he was too prideful to admit he was hurt.

The girl fighting him now was not the girl he fell in love with.

"Who are you?" he growled, pushing you back, racking his brain for a way to win without injuring your body.

"Great! You understand now!" ‘not-you’ smiled, rushing back towards the swordsman. "Come on then. Kill me."

This was hopeless. The swordsman started to panic as he parried one attack after another. His muscles ached. Your fighting style may have been sloppy, given the circumstances, but your strength, speed, and stamina were the same. "Give her back!" He demanded as he rammed his swords into yours, knocking your body to the ground.

"Not until I kill you and the rest of your stupid crewmates." The imposter smiled up at him, eyes glimmering with amusement.

Anger flared in Zoro's chest. How dare they use your beautiful smile to taunt him. How dare they look up at him like that with those stolen eyes.

Yet, despite his rage, he couldn't move. He couldn't attack even though he had rendered his enemy vulnerable on the ground in front of him. Not when that enemy was you. Shit, he thought.

"Zoro!" Usopp's voice called from behind the swordsman. "Knock her out! He can't control her if she's unconscious!"

There was a pause as Zoro watched the malice faded from your eyes, a mixture of fear and confusion taking its place. "Zoro?" you asked, sounding as confused as you looked, "What's going on?"

Hope flickered in the back of the swordsman's mind. He lowered his guard ever so slightly but kept the hilt of one of his swords poised to put you out if needed.

This could be a trick. He reminded himself.

"What was the first sword drill I taught you?" He asked, testing you.

"Zoro, what-"

"Answer me." He cut you off. It was an easy answer. The ‘forward figure eight.’ It had taken you ages to figure out how to coordinate your movements correctly, but once you got it, you absorbed the rest of his instruction like a sponge.

"Zoro please, you've taught me so much I-" In a flash, the fear vanished from your face, replaced by that menacing smile.

The imposter lunged at him.

The world went dark.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　

You opened your eyes slowly, wincing as they adjusted to the light. A dull pain throbbed behind your eyes as you examined your surroundings.

You were lying in one of the beds inside The Sunny's infirmary, the sheets tucked tight around your body, your head propped up on the pillow against the metal frame headboard. Chopper stood across the room, absorbed in whatever he was doing.

"Chopper?" you called, surprised by how weak you sounded.

The reindeer jumped as if you'd scared him before whirling around to face you. "You're awake!" He cried, leaping onto the bed and pulling you into a hug.

You winced as pain shot through your head at the sudden movement.

Chopper pulled away. "Sorry. I'm just so glad you're finally awake."

"What…happened?" You inquired. Moments ago, you were fighting alongside the others, but you'd somehow ended up back on the Sunny with no recollection of how you got there.

Chopper shifted uncomfortably. "You were mind controlled or possessed I think, I'm not sure how the man's devil fruit worked but-" he paused. "You tried to kill Zoro. Managed to graze him a bit too before Ussop knocked you both out."

Your breath hitched in your throat. "I tried to…Kill Zoro?"

"He's okay, don't worry. Just a little...Mentally scarred from the whole thing." The doctor reassured you.

Guilt crept into your consciousness. "Is he...Upset with me?" you asked, anxiously fiddling with your fingernails.

"I don't think so?" Chopper replied, "He's been checking on you every couple of hours so I think that's a good sign. I-"

"You're awake." A gravelly voice sounded from the entrance to the infirmary.

You turned your head to see Zoro standing in the doorway with a blank expression, his elbow resting on his swords. His open shirt revealed white bandages wrapped around his chest. Your guilt intensified.

Chopper scrambled off the bed. "I'll give you two some space." He announced awkwardly before hurrying out of the room.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before Zoro spoke. "What was the first sword drill I taught you?"

Your brows wrinkled in confusion, "A forward figure 8," you replied. You remembered because learning that skill was the first time Zoro had touched you, guiding your sword arm from behind, his breath hot on your neck. Your face flushed slightly at the memory.

Zoro exhaled and strode to your side, "I just had to be sure it was you this time."

You sat up on the bed to look at him properly, getting a closer look at the bandaged wound on his chest. You bit your bottom lip in remorse. "Did I do that?"

Zoro looked down at his chest. He said nothing, but the shamed look on his face confirmed your suspicion.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, looking up at him, "I didn't mean to-."

"You were being controlled." He cut you off, clenching his fists at his sides.

You looked down at your hands. "I know, but-" You took a breath as you searched for the right words. "There must have been a way to push him out, but I don't remember… I'm sorry."

Zoro sat on the edge of the bed awkwardly. "Maybe if you didn't fall asleep instead of meditating, you'd be able to guard your mind better."

You winced, "I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

Zoro lifted his hand to cup your chin, returning your gaze to his. "Stop apologizing. I'm fine. You're fine. No one is dead. I'll incorporate more mental training into our sessions."

"Why didn't you fight back? I could have killed you."

A faint smile crossed his lips. "Don't get too cocky."

"Zoro I'm serious."

A pained look flashed through his eyes. He moved his hand to caress your cheek softly. "I couldn't bring myself to hurt you."

Warmth spread over your face. "But I hurt you."

"Again, it wasn't you. I just-" he sighed and brought his forehead to rest against yours, "I just couldn't do it."

"Zoro.." You trailed off, leaning into his touch and placing your hand over his in attempt to comfort him.

"The worst part is that I know I'd let it happen again." Zoro let out a shaky breath and shut his eyes tight as if he were trying to erase the memory from his mind. "I'd take a thousand hits before I hurt a hair on your pretty little head."

Your eyes widened as an aching pain shot through your heart. "But…Why? I'm nothing special."

His gaze pierced through you. "Don't be an idiot." he let out a strained laugh. "Everyone on this ship cares for you. I care for you." he inhaled sharply and shook his head. "I mean shit, princess, I think I'm in love with you."

Your lungs forgot how to breathe. "You're in…Love with me?"

Zoro backed away slightly, looking down at his hands. "I mean what other explanation is there? If it was anyone else I'd have killed them instantly. I constantly find myself looking for you, thinking about you, worrying about you. Believe it or not, you're a huge distraction, but I just can't bring myself to stay away from you."

You stared at him in shock at his confession, feeling as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. "Zoro I-"

"If you don't feel the same, that's fine." He cut you off; you'd never seen him look as vulnerable as he did in that moment, "but the thought of not having you around anymore kills me."

You brought your hand up to his cheek, daring to move your face closer to his. "You silly swordsman." You chuckled softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Zoro froze, "You're not?"

"No." you smiled, "In fact...I think I'm in love with you too.

Inspired by Grand Line Fics' "They hurt you while controlled" stuff. (Linked below, you should check them out)

[milswrites]

Cupid’s Sword

~Azriel X Fem!Reader~

Summary: Azriel has a crush but finds himself unable to approach them. Unable to just stand by and watch their friend’s desperate pining, Nesta and Cassian take it upon themselves to play Cupid and try and set them up. Will their efforts lead to success or is Azriel destined to remain single forever?

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. Stabbing but the good kind?

Azriel was staring again. Staring at her. His golden eyes hadn’t moved from her soft form all night, locked in place as if he were stuck in a trance. Which he may has well have been, her hypnotising features melted their way into his mind and invaded his senses, clearing them all of anything but her.

He found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her sweet voice carried from the bar where she was sat drinking with Nesta, causing his shadows to stir and attempt to crawl their way towards her in desperation for her presence. Her honeyed voice which delivered words like poetry, had always affected Azriel in ways he couldn’t explain. The velvet laugh that left her mouth as she spoke animatedly with her friend was as smooth as the whiskey Azriel was nursing.

He was hooked. Her presence a drug that Azriel hasn’t been able to get enough of since he had first laid eyes on her. Azriel hadn’t even been invited to Rita’s tonight. But when his shadows had reported to him that you had agreed to go tonight with Nesta, he knew there was no other place he wanted to be. Nesta’s permission be damned.

And so here he was, hiding in the shadows of a booth with Cassian, who was fearful of being caught by his mate on the one night where she was free of his company. Cassian had been unable to say no to his friend who had claimed he needed a drink or two after a hard days work, but now they were here Azriel could tell his brother was catching on to the real reason why he had wanted to come.

“Something caught your eye brother?” Cassian teased, bored of sitting and drinking in silence as Azriel’s attention was elsewhere, “or should I say someone?”

Azriel cursed under his breath. He would have been better off coming alone. If Cassian caught wind of his admiration for Nesta’s new friend he would never let Azriel live it down. Azriel could already imagine the relentless mocking that would ensue.

With great effort, he tore his eyes away from Y/N at the bar and settled them onto the overjoyed face of his brother manically grinning before him. “I don’t know what you mean” Azriel muttered, gaze moving to his half-empty drink to avoid his brother being able to read his lies. But of course once Cassian had started something he just couldn’t leave it alone.

“No?” Cassian mused, “the hole you’ve burned into Y/N’s head says differently. Unless of course it was my mate you’ve been staring at, in which case you’re more than welcome to come warm our bed tonight.”

The latter part of Cassian’s remark didn’t phase Azriel, he was used to the crude comments that spew from his friend’s mouth. He even sometimes heard them from Nesta. The first few words however caused Azriel’s heart to start beating faster and his palms grew clammy, skin clinging uncomfortably to the glass he was gripping for support. Defensively he said, “I wasn’t staring at Y/N.”

“Hm sure Az and I’m not the sexiest man - oh hey Y/N!”

Azriel’s head snapped to where Cassian had directed his voice, scared the woman had witnessed the conversation. She wasn’t stood there. Y/N was still happily sat at the bar with Nesta gossiping away with matching smiles on their faces. At his frantic reaction Cassian had broken out into a hearty laugh, his hand flying to his chest to brace himself as he did so. His booming chortle was enough to start drawing attention from the other customers who had found their way into Rita’s tonight.

“You’re whipped brother!” Cassian ginned merrily at Azriel who began to desperately shush his brother as his worried eyes briefly jumped to the bar, afraid the woman in question would be listening in.

“Yes! Ok! I like her!” Azriel hissed quietly between his teeth, hoping his admission would stop Cassian from teasing him for the whole club to hear.

“I knew it…I knew it” Cassian beamed in satisfaction as if he had just solved Azriel’s deepest secret. As if it wasn’t obvious enough from the way Azriel had been pining after Y/N from the shadows of their booth for the majority of the evening.

“Go over to her! I’m sure she’d say yes if you ask her in a date!” He urged Azriel, gesturing excitedly towards the bar as if playing wingman was his lifelong dream profession.

“And leave Nesta to discover we’re here ruining her girls night? She’s killed people for less” Azriel retorted in hopes that his brother wouldn’t make him go over to the bar and no doubt embarrass himself by being rejected in front of the mass of people in Rita’s tonight.

“Ah” Cassian dismissively waved his hand, “what Nesta doesn’t know won’t hurt her, I’ll hide in the toilet and you-”

Cassian was interrupted by the cold snap of his mates voice, “Nesta doesn’t know what dear?”

The two males gulped at Nesta’s sudden appearance, both having no intention of saying anything lest they anger Nesta even further. There was no doubt the terrifying woman would easily give them both a piece of her mind without them even needing to speak.

“Do you want to tell me, darling mate, why you’ve come to stalk me on my girls night?” She continued, her presence enough to leave both males breathless in fear.

“I wasn’t stalking you! I was watching Y/N!” Cassian blurted before he realised how his words had sounded and continued rambling before his mate could smite him, “not me! Him! Azriel made me come, he’s in love with her so I told him to go ask her out!”

“Cassian!” Azriel gasped with wide eyes, disbelief crossed his features as his brother betrayed his secret crush. Anxiously Azriel leant over to look past Nesta, trying to find the object of his affection and make sure she didn’t hear what Cassian had said.

Nesta’s face flashed with surprise at the information before her expression morphed into something more mischievously sinister as her eyes landed on the sputtering Azriel. “Don’t worry she didn’t hear. She’s gone home” Nesta reassured him.

But Azriel was feeling anything but reassured. The spark that had ignited in Nesta’s eyes caused him to feel unsettled and shrink back into his seat, wanting to escape the woman’s scheming gaze. Even Cassian seemed uneasy, shuffling where he was sat as he observed Nesta’s silent plotting, unsure of where this was going to go.

“It’s ok Azriel” she finally said in a sickly sweet voice as she placed a hand onto his shoulder, gripping it tight enough that Azriel knew he should definitely be scared, “we’ll get you that date.”

~~~~~

If Nesta could be described in a single word Azriel would say she was relentless. Ever since she had found out about Azriel’s not so little crush on Y/N at Rita’s over a week ago, she had been a force of nature.

He knew Nesta loved her friend dearly. Having nothing but good things to say about her since she had been introduced to Y/N by Madja. The elder woman had hired Y/N as an apprentice with the hope that she would be able to take over her healing duties when the time came for her retirement. Azriel had been curious about this woman that the usually reserved Nesta spoke so fondly of and so the next time Madja had brought her along after receiving the call that Cassian needed to be healed, Azriel had made sure he was there.

He was not disappointed. Y/N had been blessed by the cauldron in both looks and heart. Her presence on the day they had met being enough to stun him into a paralytic awe as he found himself unable to string even a few words together to speak to her.

Azriel was content to watch on in silent appreciation. Spending the days whenever she was at the House of Wind hovering close by, longing to hear a trace of her soft voice. If he was particularly lucky, he would on occasion receive an earth-shattering smile as she acknowledged him from a distance. But that was all it ever was, a distance.

Until Nesta had gotten involved and suddenly Y/N was everywhere. There was no room Azriel could enter that Y/N wasn’t in alongside a beaming Nesta. His inability to speak around her growing more and more frustrating as he had to grumble a shy hello before excusing himself, nerves too overwhelming for him to say anymore and his embarrassment at this stupor being too much for Azriel to want to stay in silence.

His reaction to her new overwhelming presence caused Nesta to grow frustrated. She had obviously been thinking that this would be an easy match and ignored Cassian’s warnings about how debilitating Azriel’s crush actually was. Nesta would have to try harder than just making sure Azriel could never escape Y/N’s presence. It’s a good thing she had a mate who was more than willing to help out his struggling friend.

Cassian was not a subtle man, he definitely wasn’t the type of person who did things in small measures. If Cassian was going to set his brother up he would do it his way, and hopefully not destroy any buildings in the process.

~~~~~

Azriel had grown used to Y/N being here. Which meant he had become very good at avoiding her whilst she was, his shadows reluctantly reporting to him not to leave his room whenever she was around.

Instead Azriel’s new favourite past time was wallowing in his own self pity as he laid face down on his bed in frustration at his situation. Which is where he was when Cassian had entered, neglecting to knock and alert him of his presence.

“Hey buddy,” his words interrupting Azriel’s sulking, “Can I have your help with something?” Azriel emitted a grunt of acknowledgment, not deigning to lift his head to look at his brother. “Great…cool” Cassian continued, “so I am superrr busy with work right now but I had promised Rhys I’d get some paperwork over to Madja. Think you can help me out?”

Deciding that doing Cassian’s chores would be a suitable distraction from his thoughts, Azriel raised his head slightly and grunted once more.

“Brilliant thanks Az!” He grinned, rubbing his hands together before turning to leave the room. Azriel sat up fully now in confusion, facing his retreating brother, “Cassian?”

The male jumped as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t and slowly turned back towards Azriel waiting to hear what his friend had to say. “The paperwork?” Azriel asked.

“Huh” sounded Cassian.

“The paperwork for Madja? Where is it?” Azriel watched as realisation crossed the generals features, mouth dropping open in a small o.

“Right… the paperwork. I’ll go get it!” Cassian said before running off, his footsteps pounding down the corridor as he ran to his room and back. Once he had returned, panting slightly at his hurried movement, he handed Azriel a sealed envelope, “here you go! And uh… don’t open that it’s highly confidential.”

Azriel enjoyed the flight over to Madja’s estate, the opportunity to spread his wings and allow the cool air to clear his head was refreshing. He landed smoothly and opened the door, ready to greet the elder woman he and the rest of the Inner Circle were so fond of. Yet Madja wasn’t there. Instead, Y/N was sat at Madja’s desk scribbling away at the papers laid before her.

At the sound of the door creaking open, her head raised, a bright smile adorning her face at the sight of the shadowsinger. “Azriel! Hi, what can I do for you?” Her honeyed voice made Azriel’s spine tingle and he found himself wishing for her to say his name again. Liking the way it sounded coming from her lips.

“Uh…where’s Madja?” He didn’t mean to sound as rude as he did when asking that question. However, the irregular pounding of his heart made his senses slip and his anxiety spike.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind, smile still on her face as she answered, “I’ve started taking over for her. When there’s not any serious injuries of course,” her smile then faltered a little, “but I thought you knew? You sent the flowers?”

A matching frown crossed Azriel’s features, “flowers? What flowers?” He asked as she directed his attention to the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers placed lovingly into a vase on the chest of drawers behind Azriel. He squinted his eyes, enabling him to read the note sticking out of them. The note which was written in Cassian’s untidy scrawl.

To Y/N

Congratulations on the promotion

With love, Azriel

He blanched, “Yes! The flowers of course. I ordered them so long ago that I forgot I’m sorry”

Y/N’s frown grew deeper at his excuse, “I only got the news yesterday?”

“Madja told me a week or two ago” he lied, desperate for the topic of this conversation to change before he dug himself a deeper hole. The lie seemed to do the job though as Y/N was obviously pleased with the thought of the older healer telling Azriel about it, telling him about her.

“Oh well, thank you! I love them” her blissful smile returned causing the butterflies already present in Azriel’s stomach to go wild. He wanted to tell her no problem, to ask her how her days going, to potentially ask her out on that date he was so badly craving. But Azriel’s tongue had grown heavy, glued to the roof of his mouth rendering him speechless.

Like a fool he stood there before her just staring. Admiring the way the golden glow of the sunlight shining through the window danced on her rosy cheeks. Taking note of the way her eyebrow slightly twitched as it did whenever she was confused. It was only when his shadows began to shift around him that Azriel allowed himself to return to the present only to realise just how long he had been in that trance and how uncomfortable he must have made Y/N.

Wanting to escape his anxiety, he began to sputter out a pitiful goodbye as he stumbled his way to the door. “Wait Azriel!” Y/N called out after him, “why is the letter empty?”

This was the second mistake Cassian had made. The first was not warning Azriel about the flowers. The second was handing him an empty envelope to give to Y/N with no explanation. What must she think of him? Turning up to her office with an empty letter and no idea about the flowers which appeared as though they were sent from him.

Neglecting to provide her with an answer, Azriel rushed from the building, wanting to avoid any accusations from her about him being a creep. He took off as fast as he could, leaving a confused Y/N behind in the empty office.

~~~~~

Azriel stormed through the house, wings flared and siphons glowing dangerously. He didn’t stop until he came face to face with a smirking Cassian who was loitering in the kitchen having waited for him brother’s return.

“Am I genius or what?” He chortled, arms outstretched as he waited for a hug he would never receive, “we better get you ready for that date!”

“There is no date” Azriel growled through gritted teeth, batting down Cassian’s arms as he watched the grin drop from his friends face at the statement.

“What? But I set everything up perfectly?” Cassian said in confusion, as if there was no possible way his perfect plan could have fallen through.

“Perfectly?” Azriel laughter bitterly, anger growing fiercely inside of him, “you made a fool out of me! She thanked me for the flowers to which I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about and then she opened the letter and found out it was empty! I looked like an idiot!”

Cassian sucked in air between his teeth awkwardly, “I guess I didn’t think that through…”

“No Cassian,” seethed Azriel, “you never think. And now you’ve ruined any chance I ever had of… you know what just forget it.” With that Azriel stalked off, needing to clear his head and mourn over the relationship he was never even able to start.

~~~~~

Cassian had begged his brother for forgiveness, unable to last another minute with Azriel’s sullen form sulking about the house ignoring him. Of course Azriel wasn’t actually mad at his brother, most of his bitterness was reserved for himself. He should have understood Cassian’s hints and help and followed along with it, then maybe things would have gone differently and maybe he would have gotten the girl.

Not wanting to admit his true feelings about it to his brother, Azriel said he’d forgive him but that Cassian should expect hell at during their next training session. Azriel had lots of frustration to expel.

Which is what led them to where they were now. Azriel beating down on his brother with all his might, the two locked in a deadly combat together. Cassian having to block powerful blow after powerful blow that his brother was delivering.

It wasn’t until Azriel struck hard enough to disarm him did Cassian then suggest the two took a break before he ended up being skewered. Nesta released a low whistle from where she had been watching as she moved towards the men in the ring, Azriel’s frustration at the pair of them was almost tangible.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side” she joked, slightly worried eyes absorbing the frazzled state Azriel had left her mate in.

“Yeah well whatever stops you two trying to play Cupid” he defended, reminding Cassian why he had fought so hard.

Nesta snorted, “Cupid? Have you seen Cas try to use a bow? I’d be better poking you to your senses with Ataraxia.” Nesta’s eyes lit up at her own joke. That same unstettling feeling that Azriel had fallen victim to in Rita’s had returned.

Nesta unsheathed her dagger, stalking towards Azriel who was backing off with his hands raised. “What’s going on Nesta?” Azriel anxiously said as his back met the edge of the ring, halting his retreat.

“It’s alright, relax Az! Things will work out ” Nesta smirked. And the next thing he knew, her dagger had been plunged into his upper arm as he screamed out in pain and gripped onto the handle of the blade which was sticking out of his bicep. Blood slowly trickling down his arm.

~~~~~

“Y/N thank the cauldron you’re here!” Nesta gasped in mock relief at the appearance of her friend.

The woman ran towards Azriel from where Cassian had landed with her in his arms, worry plastered on her face as it had been from the moment Cassian had frantically shown up at her door and said that Azriel been stabbed.

“Oh mother! What happened?” She cried, pulling out a towel before pressing it tightly to Azriel’s bleeding arm, knife still lodged in his muscle. Azriel opened his mouth to give her the honest answer but Nesta beat him to it, “Freak accident! Happened out of nowhere. Super unfortunate. We’ll leave you to it, come on Cas!” She dragged her mate away, the two whispering aggressively together as they left. Cassian had obviously not been privy to Nesta’s plan.

“Freak accident?” She said in disbelief, pulling the knife out before beginning to use her healing magic to stitch the wound together. “Cupids sword apparently” Azriel hummed quietly, the majority of his focus being on how attractive he found Y/N’s concentrated face as she worked. Her presence alone numbing the pain he was feeling.

“I thought Cupid used a bow and arrow?” She laughed in confusion, attention not straying from the intricate magic she was performing on Azriel.

“I don’t think Nesta has ever used a bow and arrow in her life” he huffed, face twitching in pain as Y/N’s healing powers created a small burning sensation on his arm.

“So Nesta’s Cupid?” She mused, small smile on her face as Azriel froze at the realisation of what he had said, likely due to the blood loss, “or is it Cassian? He did send the flowers instead of you right?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in Suprise, “you…you knew?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. He’s not exactly subtle. And neither is Nesta apparently” she said gesturing to the thin red line of raised skin that now marked his arm where the knife had been.

“Yeah” Azriel shyly laughed in anticipation of what was transpiring between them, a soft blush dusting over his cheeks, “guess they just really want me to be happy… in their own weirdly demented way.”

“I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be happier more than you do” Y/N stated, her finger absentmindedly brushing over his new scar sending shivers dancing down his spine again.

“Yeah” Azriel manages to squeeze out of his anxiously closing throat, her close proximity reawakening the butterflies that seemed to have permanently made their home in his stomach.

“So?” It was Y/N’s turn to urge Azriel to ask her the question, “are you going to let Nesta go through all the trouble of stabbing you just so you can let me walk away? I’ve been waiting a while you know”

This time Azriel was able to find his courage, “I really like you.” He finally confessed, wanting to get the truth out before his inability to speak around Y/N returned, “I find myself unable to keep control around you, I can’t pull myself together and I always end up acting like an idiot. Because I am crazy about you Y/N.”

“You’re a very cute idiot” she teased, finger now travelling from where it was brushing his arm to trail down his chest. Her words made Azriel flush, he attempted to answer but all that came out were small broken sounds of disbelief.

“Come on Azriel” she continued to tease. Y/N had complete control over this situation, over Azriel. His spirit drawn to hers as her lips moved closer to his, “use your words. Ask me.”

“Will you go on a date with me?” He managed to squeak out. Transfixed by the hold she had over him. Y/N breathed out an airy laugh before gripping onto his shirt and dragging Azriel into her before their lips collided.

Whilst Azriel may have had problems speaking with her, he definitely didn’t have any issues when it came to kissing her. Making sure to pour every ounce of longing and pining that he had been feeling since he first laid eyes on her into the kiss. Their lips moulded together as if they were made for each other. A perfect match.

“Yes” she confirmed pulling back from the kiss to catch her breath. Azriel shifted his eyes to the movement occurring from behind her shoulder, gaze finding its home on Cassian and Nesta who were excitedly jumping, holding their thumbs up to the male.

Azriel wrapped his unbloody arm around Y/N’s shoulders, a grin of appreciation on his face as he looked to his friends thankfully.

There were worse friends to have.

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugou Katsuki: Model Student

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: 2k+, fluff

• When you’re sent to assist designer Bakugou Mitsuki, you get more than you bargain with both food and explosives.

Warnings: Mature language, slight spoilers, Class 3A

>>>>——————————>

When Bakugou Mitsuki 'politely demanded' that you accept a long term job on behalf of her fashion company you couldn't exactly refuse -not that she'd let you- but like your other modelling contracts, it wouldn't disrupt your hero studies aside from spending your free time at her home. The only unexpected factor, was her infamous son.

"WHO THE HELL IS THIS?"

You practically jumped out of your skin, the measure wrapped around your waist was left unattended as Mitsuki slapped the demanding newcomer upside the head.

"Manners Katsuki! This is (L/n) (Y/n), they're the model for my latest assignment."

"Nice to meet you." You gave an awkward wave, attempting to keep the tape in place as you did so but he did not seem impressed, only scoffing and walking away (regardless of the infuriated scowl his mother painfully engraved into his retreating figure).

"I apologise on his behalf, being apart of U.A's latest Big Three went to his head a bit but he's grown a lot since his first year with everything that happened. Still a moody 18 year old though." The woman forcibly laughed whilst resuming her work. Presumably he was home for the break like you, but worked at an agency to fill the time. If nothing else, this job assignment would be flammable.

—

Despite seeing him on a few visits, tonight’s encounter was the second time you’d actually spoken. Finally you got to rest, you'd tried to help as much as you could once Mitsuki got what she needed from you and she'd urged you to take a break in the lounge to prevent you from helpfully intervening and exhausting yourself.

Luckily, Bakugou was unintentionally keeping you company with reluctant conversation whilst he was cooking his dinner, you meanwhile took residence at the table scrolling through your phone.

"Have you eaten?" His lack of curses made you look up with a skeptical expression but you answered with a shrug, planning to eat once you got home.

"Not yet."

"Just because you're a shitty model, you gotta fucking eat as you don't need to—" Bakugou bit back with the stereotype, similar to that of either scolding or concern - you were uncertain.

"I do eat, I promise."

"Prove it then dumbass."

"Wha-how?" He smirked as he handed you a bowl of curry mid question, the one he'd been carefully concocting as you made idle chatter with him for the past 30 minutes. Almost like he'd planned it. Surely not.

"You didn't have to give me any, but thank you Bakugou. I’ll help clean up.”

"Tch, I made too much and I'm not wasting good food." Katsuki's tone held somewhat defensive aggression but he joined you at the table regardless, listing off ingredients and exchanging food preferences with you.

———

Over the various visits to the lovely Bakugou household, especially if your work with Mitsuki was scheduled when Katsuki was home, you’d usually have a meal prepared for you.

Admittedly you’d grown accustomed to the environment and to him, discussing hero work and exams with Katsuki over food and then helping wash up afterwards.

You’d grown more confident around him having had time to understand his personality, although the second you’d blew soapy bubbles at him you immediately regretted your decision.

You were met with a glowering crimson, floaty suds lingering on his nose, the scar on his cheek, and the front tips of his hair. Then there was the snarl and cocky smirk.

“You wanna go (L/n)? DIE!” It was accompanied by a spark of explosion angled toward the water - in such a trajectory that bubbles coated you like a snowball to the face causing you to huff in frustration to blow a couple off.

Bakugou howled manically at his retaliation, covering his mouth and pointing at you whilst you wiped the suds from your eyes.

“Ugh, take this murder god!” You flicked the remnants left on your hand at him which did nothing in all honesty. Instead a towel was thrown over your face courtesy of the blonde, which you irritably utilised. A string of curses was muttered beneath the material before you’d pulled it off, having believed you got rid of all the substance.

“Dumbass, can’t even beat bubbles.” Bakugou snorted, his gaze not having left you the entire time. “C’mere.”

You hadn’t the chance to refute, stunned by the fingers sliding across your jaw when he’d stepped forward and tilted your head with a hint of roughness that was inexplicably him. His other hand took the towel from your own and began carefully wiping your eyebrow and lower lip with a degree of scrutiny. Then he checked you for further discrepancies with more attention that you felt was required, and in order to hide your imminent flustering you delicately ran your finger across his scar to remove the last bubble there.

“You had something…”

An act that left him meeting your eyes with his own disarming ones, it felt intimate in a way like sparks were flickering alight despite no longer being connected by touch.

Just then Mitsuki burst into the main area, tape measure wrapped around her wrist and a determined gleam in her eye.

“Have you two finished dinner yet?” That’s when she took in the sight before her, you two in close proximity when directing your attention toward her but making no intention to distance yourselves. “…Because take your time, I don’t need (L/n) yet.”

Then she disappeared again, leaving you both alone in the disturbed silence. You took a step back from him wearing a polite smile and gestured toward his mother’s workspace.

“I should probably get back.”

“Hm, thanks for the help shitty model.”

Upon entering, you didn’t expect to be scolded for returning earlier than Mitsuki expected.

“What are you doing?! Get back out there, I didn’t mean to ruin— crap, I mean I’ve never seen Katsuki act— ugh it’s hopeless.”

“I’m here to work, and as amazing as your sons’ cooking is, I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.” You bowed as accompaniment, but the woman only sighed in defeat.

“Right, of course you’re only focused on the work. Just like Katsuki, how perfectly fitting…”

“Huh?”

“I said let’s finish this fitting!” She clapped her hands with a renewed determination, fabric at the ready.

———

A photoshoot showcasing the reinvented designs was your reason for a quick visit today, arriving at the Bakugou household to meet with the woman herself so you could travel there together.

Naturally, you weren’t expecting her analytic gaze to scan over your outfit with more criticality than usual, which is when you’d heard her contemplate aloud.

"I need to make some adjustments..."

"What?! The photoshoot is in 2 hours and this is all I have!" You gestured to the outfit she'd deemed perfect only yesterday, believing you'd only be heading straight to the shoot and home, you didn't see the need for a spare set of clothes.

Mitsuki shook her head, throwing a discarded hoodie in your direction before shooing you into the bathroom. Upon returning, tugging the hoodie down to cover as much as possible despite the size differences, you handed over your clothes and awaited her return at the kitchen counter with a tea warming your hands.

"Oi old hag, have you seen - what the fuck do you think you're doing in my hoodie (Y/n)?!" Immediately, the sheer ferocity in the familiar tone had you internally screaming and spinning 180 to face him.

"Katsuki! It's not - Mitsuki took my outfit for adjustments and gave me this, I didn't know it was yours!" You corrected yourself knowing he didn't tolerate excuses and skipped straight to the point, though it didn't nullify the death glare he sported.

"Whatever, you don't look like shit in it so just tell me how long she's gonna take because I need it." You missed the flush on his features after he properly looked at you, scanning over your legs which were overly exposed thanks to his item before turning away with a frustrated sigh.

"Yo Bakubro, what's taking so long - ohhh wow." Immediately the interruption had snapped Katsukis attention so fast you expected him to have whiplash.

The guy in question stood rather awestruck, hand running through his spiked crimson hair with an equally bright blush to match as his gaze landed on you.

"Not a fucking word shitty hair!" Bakugou practically threatened, skidding between the two of you with his hand moving to your side to keep you behind him.

"Dude, the others are waiting outside so we're good. I'm Kirishima Eijiro, a friend of Bakugou." Apparently a regular visitor to the house, he offered his hand whilst you sidestepped past Katsuki to meet him.

"Pleasure, I'm (L/n) (Y/n) and I'm here for an assignment with Mitsuki."

"Ah you're the not-so-annoying one he keeps talking about."

"You talk ab—" You never got to ask when Mitsuki hailed your attention.

"Done!"

The next moments happened in a blur, clothes were thrusted into your chest then an echo of voices called for 'Kacchan' who seemed panicked by their entry and shoved you into the bathroom telling you to 'hurry the fuck up'. Quickly you changed, tossing him the hoodie the second you'd cracked open the door, then came the slam from where he'd left with Kirishima after ushering the others out. All you could do was slump against the bathroom door with a sigh of exhausted relief.

———

The final session working with Bakugou Mitsuki, you’d expected it but that didn’t mean you were glad about it. You enjoyed the experience more than most jobs and you could probably chalk part of that down to Katsuki, not that you’d breathe a word of it.

Mitsuki seemed slightly despondent however, always flicking to the front door with a sense of hopefulness but soon morphing to disappointment when it didn’t open.

“What’s wrong Mitsuki-san?“

"Sorry (Y/n), Katsuki was pretty adamant about seeing you before you left so your last task wasn't really necessary but that brat must be too busy." She’d explained with a haphazard shrug, you weren’t even mad that she’d kept longer for no apparent reason due to your surprise that her son had personally wanted to what? Say goodbye? Or rather good riddance.

"Oh - no that's fine, thanks Mitsuki it was really great working with you the past month, and I hope we can do it again sometime. Please send my regards to him."

The sheer amount of wind caught you off guard as you walked through the near deserted neighbourhood toward the station after your final farewells, a faint sound of blasting echoing with a familiar figure abruptly skidding into your path. He still donned his hero gear so you assumed he shot over the moment he was released from his internship, the man now standing proud with his arms folded expectantly.

"What that's it? You're done?"

"Yeah, I have to get back to my internship too. Why?"

You couldn't fathom why Katsuki seemed so disturbed by this, his expression wasn't as aggressive and there was a distinct flash of disappointment in his eyes that he was quick to morph to ferocity.

"I don't have to cook extra anymore."

"I thought that was accidental?" You quipped back, knowing you were already on thin ice.

"Just didn't want you feeling guilty dumbass."

"My hero..."

"Shut up shitty model! You're your own hero, and I'll beat your ass in the ranking once we graduate." He’d growled, leaning closer to you and desperately trying to keep his voice down.

"Such a sweet talker Katsuki, too bad it'll never happen~"

"LIKE HELL YOU'LL—argh?!" The playful punch to his chest quietened him, your confidence and gratitude shining through as you held your fist in place whilst speaking.

"I'm glad I got to know you, I can't wait to work with you in the future."

"You're at the top of my list too - so long as you don't get in my fucking way." A gloved hand took your fist and intertwined his hand with yours like in an arm wrestle, giving it a challenging squeeze.

"Please, you'll be in my way."

The two of nodded in agreement, touch slipping from each other with the last brush of your fingertips feeling like a spark.

Then you were gone, and the fire burned brighter than ever.

———

This was the U.A. dormitories, the sign read 'Class 3A' so you knew you were in the right place but that didn't calm your jittering nerves at all. Yes you'd kept in contact and it was guaranteed that he was going to scold you for showing up unannounced but it remained unknown whether it'd be a serious one or a usual temper flare.

Amping up your false confidence, you walked in albeit hesitantly and your unfamiliar presence was immediately noticed.

"Good evening, oh and welcome - um can I help you find someone?"

"That'd be great, I—" The kindness radiating off of the green haired hero was relieving, but a sudden burst of sparks slid before you rather eagerly which stifled your reply.

"I can do it, anything you need I'm your guy! Kaminari Denki by the way beautiful."

"Kaminari! Don't leave me behind like that - ohmygod you were right, it's the hot model from the magazines. They're so attractive and a hero, what I wouldn't do—"

"Mineta! Stop being - AAHHHH it's (L/n) (Y/n)!" The pinkette squealed wholeheartedly once chastising her classmate.

A clutter originated from the kitchen the moment your name was mentioned, the others hardly concerned with the noise but rather far more interested in you.

"Sorry to show up uninvited like this, but thank you all for welcoming me." Gratefully you bowed to the group, many fussing prior to a harsh interruption causing them to part.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Heeyyy Katsuki..." Your tone seemed more awkward, he noticed the way you went to step toward him but second guessed your situation and took a step backwards instead.

“They know each other?”

“No way, they couldn’t be acquainted.”

Even with the muttering of his classmates, you gave a charming smirk and Bakugou heaved a defeated sigh but made an unexpected proposition anyway.

"I'm starting dinner for these shitty extras, so you should stay (Y/n)."

"Don't I need permission?"

"You think we're gonna argue with Bakugou? He never wants people over - let alone asks them to stay! None of us are missing this." An ecstatic blonde eagerly answered with thumbs up.

"Shut it Pikachu!" Katsuki stalked off in the direction of the kitchen gesturing for you to follow once Mina had taken your jacket. You thanked the pretty pinkette, following his lead when you heard the class collectively panic for you.

"This was the scent on Bakugous' hoodie remember? The one we couldn't pinpoint." Mina whispered to Kaminari, the two concocting rather scandalous explanations but ultimately decided their explosive friend wouldn't have the charm to date a model.

"Noooo, not in there whilst he's cooking. He'll kill you." Sero gingerly tapped your shoulder to halt your journey and you only smiled at him oh so innocently - clearly you did not know the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou.

"I'll be fine, I'll help prepare dinner as a thanks for having me here." The response only earned silent prayers, Mineta literally on his knees praying whilst Izuku released a barely audible squeak.

Inconspicuously, the class subtlety watched as you strolled in, purely intrigued by your unbreakable will to die - yet their discoveries were earth shattering.

"Hey, can I help?" A touch to his shoulder.

"Tch, my cooking not good enough for you anymore shitty model?" An elbow to your side.

"Your food is the best I've ever tasted which is why I want to learn from the best dumbass." The playful teasing which seemed commonplace for the two of you whilst you chopped vegetables.

"I missed you, fucking disaster."

"Well I am rather delightful, it's no wonder~"

"I take it back, you're still annoying as hell." This time his usual uncaring demeanour returned, cold words in tow and it only softened your resolve.

Leaving the vegetables on the chopping board, you carefully leaned into his side with a nudge as a form of embrace rather than hug him.

"I sort of missed you too Katsuki, but sorry for intruding." It was quiet, but genuine, and he couldn't help but reciprocate with his cocky attitude melting away replaced with a content smirk.

"S'fine, glad you did." Katsuki pulled away slightly to face you properly and allowed himself to enjoy the moment, finding himself looking at you like he’d done when covered in soap. Only this time, there were no imperfections to find.

Maybe this time…

At this point, the redhead returned from his evening jog to find the majority of his class crouched down and discreetly peering into the kitchen area with Jirou using her earphone jack to relay the conversation. Kirishima knew Bakugou had decided to make dinner tonight and no one would be brave enough to step foot in there, so the whole ordeal was honestly baffling - that is until he casually walked up to the counter without a care for his furiously protesting classmates attempting to drag him down to their level.

"No way, (L/n)-chan is here?! How've you been, long time no see!" He cheerily called, nodding to Katsuki and yourself who instantly parted from each other and received agonising cries from his peers who were hoping for a token of affection.

"Damn it shitty hair!" Katsuki cussed, sporting a glare appropriate for the self entitled ‘murder god’ whilst you hopped over to the shark-tooth hero equipped with an excited greeting.

"Hi Kirishima! Great to see you again."

“Huh? Was I interrupting something?”

Yourself and Bakugou exchanged a neutral glance, ready to answer ‘No’ but didn’t get the opportunity when a booming unanimous reply of irritation came from the entirety of 3A.

“YES!!”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[astrologysaysno]

I have a random thought to pitch to you all the idea of Airplane SQH acting as SJ's lawyer in PIDW.

(Confession: I have not read SVSSS, so I have no real clue on how the trials happened, but just hear me out)

Shen Jiu stands on trial at Huan Hua Palace, charged with the grievous crime of the murder of Qiu Haitang's family, the death of Liu Qingge, and the mistreatment of Luo Binghe.

For the sake of propriety, SJ is assigned someone to defend him in the trial as his defence. The people clamour, Qiu Haitang and Liu Mingyan especially, arguing that he does not deserve someone to aid his defense, but Yue Qingyuan does not relent.

He assigns Shang Qinghua as the lead, a compromise to quell the rabble of protesters.

Shang Qinghua presents as clumsy, disorganised, and tongue tied. A barely qualified Peak Lord who looks as if an ant on his shoulder would give him enough of a scare to induce cardiac arrest. They believe Shen Jiu is guaranteed to be found guilty on all accounts when YQY picks him.

But Yue Qingyuan knows his shidi and knows just how capable he is. He has witnessed him weave through social dilemmas and negotiate with merchants, each time coming out on top with diplomats willing to do anything and traders selling even at a loss. He has made this sect richer and more influential than he has ever had in years.

So Yue Qingyuan is confident that Shang Qinghua can pull this off.

The day of the trial comes, and like the sound of the first horn at the front lines, it commences.

Shang Qinghua and the prosecutors spend hours on each and every charge, with Qinghua breaking down each argument and exposing the cracks to them.

He pulls out witnesses that Shen Jiu thought he would never see.

Former slaves of the Qiu family who attest to the horrific crimes of what Qiu Jianluo did, of the abuse Shen Jiu was put under, even forcing the sect leader himself to explain their history and air everything out.

He prods at Liu Mingyan's accusations, revealing the hearsay and conjecture of her story. His accusations of lecherous acts are dismantled as he brings the head of the Warm Red Pavillion and other workers to testify in favour of him.

With Luo Binghe, it is Shang Qinghua's most difficult test yet. How can one justify the hate that was perpetuated by Shen Jiu, the endless suffering caused by him to Luo Binghe?

He cannot, what he can do is create a sense of empathy towards Shen Jiu, building an argument of constant sequential trauma which had molded him to become this jaded, cynical individual caught in the cycle of abuse.

He appeals to the remains of Luo Binghe's humanity for mercy, and to the crowd of Luo Binghe's instability caused by Xin Mo. Weaving both together the case of Luo Binghe being too manic and unstable to properly pass judgement, that what Luo Binghe really wanted was justification for all the hurt brought down upon him.

Shen Jiu is still given punishment for his mistreatment of Luo Binghe, but the air feels as if it has shifted, changed into something he doesn't know what to do.

[qveerthe0ry]

Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it. 

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure. 

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?” 

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony. 

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it. 

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with. 

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him. 

Usually it’s none of his business. 

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him. 

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything. 

“Yeah but what about last night?” 

Marcus shrugs. 

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette. 

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?” 

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands. 

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic. 

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes. 

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work. 

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades. 

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control. 

“That’s it man, just breathe.” 

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before. 

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off. 

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes. 

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.” 

“Girl problems?” 

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment. 

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up. 

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales. 

“I’m fucking gay.” 

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues. 

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus. 

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.” 

Marcus sniffles and nods. 

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.” 

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?” 

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing. 

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.” 

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries. 

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.” 

“When did you know?” 

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it. 

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.” 

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him. 

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next. 

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed. 

“What’s it like?” 

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?” 

Dieter shrugs. 

“Depends on the guy.” 

Marcus sighs. 

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?” 

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?” 

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights. 

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?” 

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question. 

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?” 

Dieter chuckles. 

“All kinds of things, babe.” 

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest. 

“Would you show me?” 

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to. 

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.” 

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought. 

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy? 

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet. 

“What?” 

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?” 

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated. 

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.” 

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile. 

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.” 

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair. 

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning. 

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young. 

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get  a college degree after all is said and done. 

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating. 

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this. 

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet. 

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?” 

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together. 

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans. 

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths. 

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache. 

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away. 

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion. 

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together. 

“It’s not that,” he says. 

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches. 

“You really wanna do this with me?” 

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking. 

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go. 

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom. 

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind. 

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.” 

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there. 

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more. 

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest. 

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath. 

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles. 

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.” 

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next. 

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen. 

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up. 

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?” 

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face. 

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on. 

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?” 

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them. 

“I don’t really know.” 

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles. 

“Yeah. Thank you.” 

Dieter does chuckle then. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames. 

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this. 

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again. 

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines. 

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut. 

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles. 

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet. 

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft. 

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst. 

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open. 

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.” 

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same. 

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes. 

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly. 

“Just like that. Is this still okay?” 

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it. 

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter. 

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.” 

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere. 

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it. 

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin. 

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples. 

“Does this feel good?” 

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes. 

“Yes.” 

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose. 

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep. 

“Is this still okay?” 

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response. 

“I think so… just nervous.” 

“Still good nervous?” 

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh. 

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there. 

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers. 

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone. 

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours. 

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again. 

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss. 

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn. 

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips. 

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.  

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.” 

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up. 

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains. 

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time. 

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas. 

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.” 

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while. 

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his. 

“Can I try on you now?” 

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes. 

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away. 

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?” 

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt. 

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.” 

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles. 

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter. 

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.” 

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away. 

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.” 

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it. 

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body. 

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit. 

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot. 

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning. 

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own. 

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb. 

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck. 

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it? 

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled. 

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life. 

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him. 

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. 

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.” 

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together. 

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans. 

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone. 

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.” 

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again. 

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs. 

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas. 

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.” 

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth. 

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more. 

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.” 

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left. 

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?” 

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks. 

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks. 

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide. 

“Will you teach me?” 

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really. 

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks. 

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.” 

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs. 

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face. 

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.” 

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.” 

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles. 

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time. 

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums. 

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.” 

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs. 

“That’s a relief.” 

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says. 

“No?” 

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.” 

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source. 

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in. 

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.” 

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him. 

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him. 

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.” 

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead. 

“Are you alright?” 

Marcus clears his throat as he nods. 

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks. 

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.” 

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.” 

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.” 

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip. 

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.” 

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience. 

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.” 

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention. 

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair. 

“Play until you win, babe.” 

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration. 

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft. 

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning. 

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth. 

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much. 

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.” 

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.” 

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase. 

“How are you feeling? Still gay?” 

Marcus laughs against his lips. 

“The gayest I’ve ever been.” 

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him. 

“Really though, are you still into this?” 

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt. 

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs. 

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard. 

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand. 

“What’s the lesson?” 

Dieter smirks at the eagerness. 

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow. 

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.” 

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together. 

“Is this okay? Like this?” 

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack. 

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together. 

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.” 

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.” 

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock. 

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin. 

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach. 

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists. 

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath. 

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity. 

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up. 

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before. 

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in. 

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours. 

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop. 

“How do we taste together?” 

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm. 

“Like we were made for each other.” 

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean. 

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth. 

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.” 

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip. 

“It’s an acquired taste.” 

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out. 

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation? 

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him. 

“Should I uh… go… now?” 

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled. 

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back. 

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time. 

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek. 

He clears his throat. 

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…” 

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied. 

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?” 

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels. 

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.” 

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?” 

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.” 

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can. 

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.” 

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm. 

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep. 

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations: No.25

*just based on my personal observations, only take what resonates

Omg my first degree theory observation was wrong Danial Kwan has moon at 18 degree, a Virgo degree ! (My bad y’all I’m learning). I’ll say that he had to get a hold of his mental health while in Covid and his adult adhd diagnosis and that influenced the writing of everything all at once (Imma learn this lol, more studying must be done)

Ok better degree theory lol, the degree of your Venus and/or mars can show placements you attract. My Venus is at a cancer degree and I’ve dated a l o t of people with Cancer placements (an experience lol)

A guy’s Lilith can show that his sort of femme fatale attraction (type of girl that overstimulates him, makes him feel enamored but is also his weakness.) His Lilith placement can describe this femme in more detail. For Aries, a go getter that takes no shit (I believe @zeldasnotes said Lilith in Aries in a man’s chart is a strong indicator that he’s a feminist and I totally agree.); For Sagittarius she’d be untethered and have a great sense of humor and may be outside of his culture. For Aquarius she’d be idealized as a manic pixie dream girl, like quirky in a way he could never figure out. let me know if you all would like a whole post on this !

Only outer planets (Uranus, Neptune, Pluto) in your 1st can give you an extra ordinary appearance and make you stand out quite a bit.

Your mars conjunct to someone’s sun can make them feel competitive with you. Venus on the other hand can make you put the sun person on a sort of pedestal and can make the relationship feel like you’re a fan of the sun person. Moon to someone’s sun can feel more at home and at ease.

Men with water Venuses seem to be super monogamous or like incapable of monogamy (which is fine lol, but be ethical about it and establish boundaries and don’t cheat yo)

12th house synastry is sticky asl, as soon as you moved on someone just appears on your mind out of nowhere, lotta hidden energy all tied up together; 8th house synastry is really intense but it’s often hard to build something stable out of the intensity. 4th house feels like home, but as someone with Uranus over their 4th, I associate this synastry with being unpredictable and chaotic in familiar way. 5th and 11th house synastry tends to be good long term. 5th house means you feel fun and creative and always excited together. And 11th house will mean that there’s a feeling of friendship underneath the passion that usually sustains the connection imo.

For all of the seriousness associated with Capricorn placements (especially suns) often focus on a lot on whimsy in their creative works, like it’s the outlet for a lot of their hidden optimism (Hayao Miyazaki, Nobuhiko Obayashi the director of Hausu).

Ok ok I know Scorpio risings are known for intense, bedroom eyes and their overwhelming s*x appeal and making suitors flee because they’re so intimidated etc etc… but quietly I think our biggest weapon that people don’t see coming is our sense of humor. (Honest to god I was thinking of how funny Hugh Grant is even though he doesn’t need to be bc he’s been so handsome this whole time lol. He always puts in the effort into that comedic timing) (Also people still think if you’re hot and intense you can’t be funny so it defuses some of the tension pretty well imo)

I feel like Virgo placements always seem to think they feel boring even though they’re like very knowledgeable and compelling in their own right (I’m getting all reflective and remember when like Virgo moons/mars would always ask if they’re being boring or complain about being boring but they tend to be good conversationalists when they allow themselves to analyze things so deeply)

I think cancers are actually the most defensive sign, naturally. I want to say they have this in common with their sister sign bc Capricorns are defensive and don’t like to show “weakness”. But the way that underdeveloped cancers (can) play the victim when scrutinized is different. (Like Capricorns do that earth sign thing where they use their perception to make you feel like you’re wrong, and they want to be seen as the authority not the victim). Where cancer is in your chart could show where you’re especially guarded and trying to protect your sensitivity.

To me Jupiter conjunct south node means you’ll reap benefits of good karma from a past life (or the effects of bad karma will be a lot in this lifetime but I saw this in obama’s chart and it’s a benefic planet so the first thing is what I thought of lol, he’s not a good guy but becoming the first black president of the us seems like a past life power play imo)

[xesiarah]

𓏵 Yan!Loser x Reader (Drabble)

My favorite animal is Lucian when reader tries to leave him 🤫🧏

His intro fic >.<

—

—

"A-am I not enough..?" Lucian's voice was whiney, meek, yet with a hint of menace seething through his words. There's something... something uncanny.. seemingly just right beneath the facade of innocence, the beads of tears rolling down his cheeks swiftly, and the glisten of the tip of the knife pressed firmly against his neck under the illuminating light.

"Why, why, why, why.." he mutters under his breath, repeating manically as if trying to think of a reason plausible enough for him, for his delusional, overthinking, — overbearingly possessive brain cells.

"I-i-i.. just love you so much... you can't do this to me... I just can't fucking breathe—" he trails off, his tears blurring his vision as he swore he could feel his legs weaken, like a victorian child seeing that Snapchat dog filter for the first time. — As if the idea of you being able to just walk out the door and leave him to go fend for himself, continuing on with your life without him being able to breath down your neck every second of everyday, just weakens his overall ability to function.

His breathing growis erratic, it's pattern going inconsistent. "I'll die... I'll die without you." The desperation is evident in the flickers of his eyes, a threatening madness, as if daring you. Daring you to walk out that door and leave his sorry ass.

"Okay, dude. What the fuck." You raise both hands in a defensive manner, your sweaty palms facing him. like yk what people do in movies when they get confronted by the FBI. "I was just fucking asking if you wanted chipotle.."

Maybe that 'i can fix him' mentality didn't work, after all. You think you sort of made him worse. "I just didn't want to drag you along, cus' I'll only be out briefly." You explained, your eyebrows knitted together as you took a step closer, it's as if concern, anxiety, was etched onto your face alltogether.. Just how mentally unwell is this motherfucker?

"I wanted to come a-a-along, and you didn't let me... W-what if you were secretly meeting someone else!? What if you—" his complaints, or more like blabber fall upon deaf ears. He didn't acknowledge the fact you were taking baby steps closer, immersed in his will to voice his worries.

Slowly, you managed to take hold of the knife, separating the dangerous weapon from the very dangerous person, regaining a sense of control of the situation as you coo empty praises in an attempt to soothe his shivered timbers, cupping both sides of his cheek and even wiping a few tears away with your thumb. You don't want to fucking die yet, after all.

He doesn't let you tear your gaze away from him as you gently, fucking finally, place the knife down on a nearby coffee table, your attention solely on him. As it should. According to him, I guess. — as soon as you do, he immediately jumps on you, clinging onto you like a lifeline as the suddenly impact causes the both of you to fall to the floor in a loud thud.

"Lucian..?" You question, raising an eyebrow.

He answers with nothing, scarily just doesn't say anything. Anything at all. The silence deafening. The only sound being his ragged breathing, and your own, mingling together. "Don't go." He mumbles after moments of silence, his breath hot against your skin.

He buries himself further into the crook of your neck, inhaling in your scent deeply. "Stay." He spoke once again, his voice now raspy from allat crying.

He snuggles onto you, as if trying to merge into one, single being. Whilst you on the other hand, lay in defeat. He's heavy. Like a damned boulder. What makes it worse is that you're sweating like a bitch and your head is throbbing from the sudden hit to the ground. — fucking hell. Guess you owe him cuddles now.

And, the price of wanting chipotle... 😞

[workingchemistry]

Wolffe is standing next to the Generals when 17 comes down from the ship and he’s glad for it. He’s under no illusions that he’s not going to get reamed later, but he’d like for it not to be in front of his General.

Fox stands in a parade rest next to Bly, chin raised just a little too high for regulation, buckets clipped to their waists.

17 comes to a stop in front of them, arms crossed and expression dark with judgment. He doesn’t shout but he comes very nearly close to it. “Marshal Commander cc-1010, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The Generals all startle forward, ready to come to Fox’s defense. It warms something in Wolffe’s chest to see that there are others who care about his batch ik’aad but they don’t need to bother.

Fox’s chin tips up further into defiance as a grin, wide and manic, splits across his face and breaks open his busted lip. The blood stains his teeth red and that’s fitting too. It’s been too long since Wolffe has seen more than Fox’s masks—been an eternity since he’s seen Fox.

“Sir.” Fox salutes and stamps his foot down against the walkway to send the metal ringing. “My very best, Sir.”

17 stares down at Fox with a deliberately unimpressed expression before he grabs Fox by his hair and pulls him in for a bone rattling keldabe. “I’m gonna fucking murder you, kid.”