#instead of constantly loosing the desire to draw

[acid-ixx]

mea culpa (again &. again mini chapter)

tw: allusions to self harm, depression and suicidal thoughts. sensitive content ahead. this happens in between the end of chapter 3 and start of chapter 4.

if you were to describe the first few years at the manor, the first word that comes to you would be...

well, regret.

at every attempt, at every woeful request, and the rejection that follows. their distant stares, as if looking elsewhere other than you, or the way some wouldn't even acknowledge your name, or presence; it would've devoured anyone else's hope, would've been an already telltale sign that they had no interest in the likes of you.

invitations to spend time with them, to hopefully gain insights about their interests— just for that sliver of desire that somehow, someday you wouldn't have to constantly be on your knees, asking pleases in the sweetest tone a six year old like you could muster to a butler who had more important duties to attend to other than a desperate child wanting to spend time with their family.

when you lose something dear, you begin to desire that very same treasure lost. your mother is no more, her kisses were no more, her lingering touches long since disappeared.

it's only after a few weeks did the grief register within you. only then did the desire to recreate all those soft moments with her manifested into the threshold of your mind; clawing, hungry appendages that disguise itself as innocent ambition ready to hurt you.

all you simply wanted was to meet your father, to see him outside of camera flashes, or in news channels and interviews that only capture one part of him. you wish to see the man idolized by hundreds of civilians for his charitable actions, admired by thousands; a man who you were lucky enough to have as a father.

the very same man who, after having to take you under his care after news about your appearance sparked traction in media— was never in the same room as you.

and if he was? he'd be gone as soon before you could quickly greet him with a hello.

you remember those days, though. the first time where you'd get to pass by your... dad.

a lonesome afternoon, with a storm transpiring outside, the thick gusts of air and heavy rain thumping against the expanse of windows. it was only a quarter to six, yet the scene outside portrayed a sky far darker the shade of blue, and looked almost as if it was midnight. only the dissonant patterns of beating rain guides you to wander around listlessly with nothing to do; bored and delirious after a day of simply being... alone.

but the erratic noises didn't stop you from ceasing in your steps upon the sight of the man, standing in a room and looking out. his silhouette casting against the chandelier's orange light.

it was enough to stumble over, and do a double take at the man in front of you, only a few feet away, before coming closer to his distracted form to further take in his features.

how tall he actually was, towering over your impish, malnutritioned body like a wall. slicked, black hair, some strands loose and freed. his was more intimidating in person. gruff voice you've never once heard on tv, demanding control and respect. thick arms that contrast your sinewy ones, with veins that protruding from jagged skin; all hidded with fancy business suits and a charismatic smile that beckons your eyes to look upon his face instead.

he was handsome in person, more regal than the street thugs you've seen out the windows of your apartment windows. and, for a second, you couldn't believe that this was your father, standing in a room looking as if he could be painted then and there; your fingers buzzing to catch your hands on your sketchbook to draw every detail of the man in question.

your father, your dad, your papa that you've always marveled upon. now standing right before you like a statue concocted by a renaissance artist.

though the most important aspect of your father is his piercing blue eyes. brighter than anything you've seen before, yet duller than the bleak colors of the manor's wallpaper; gazing endlessly outside with no acknowledgement of the way you shake, or how the thumping in your

after one year of begging alfred to see him in person, you get to see him now on such an unannounced day.

yet you're happy all throughout. because he's here now and that's all that matters to the mind of tiny you, gasping and exhilarated to near tears.

fingers shaking, eyes never ripping itself from the man who's stripped you away of all words you wished to say.

it's as if he fits within the gothic setting perfectly. hell, even annunciating its splendor; the sharp edges on his face that are perfectly shadowed by the lack of illuminated, yellowish light, his stiff posture surveying the room, and muscled form speaking volumes of how much he truly acts as a pillar of support for the city.

safe to say his beauty was ethereal.

seeing him up close was far ever a better spectacle. you weren't just enamored; you were in every bit frozen in your stance, burning the memories of your first union with him into every crevice of your mind. dumbfounded, breathless, and buzzing with ecstasy of being face to face with a man your mother must've loved.

after all, he wasn't just one of the kindest souls to bless all of gotham, he was more than that. he was, in most important of details, your father.

a father you haven't seen, nor met, in the first years of your life.

yet those same eyes squint at something, anything else, and never once looked down at you, who modestly tries to pull at his loose house wear to capture his attention after moments you were locked in place. too small, too stubborn and young to understand why his gaze never wandered below and kept to his thoughts instead.

"papa!" you call out to him in a high pitched voice with a wide smile, trying your best to overpower the sound of the raging storm outside. your actions prove fruitless, yet you still attempt to make him snap out of his trance, jumping and shivering in near childish excitement.

and this was all you needed: a single grunt in response was enough to make you all the more feel ecstatic. it washed away your prior somberness at the weather since you're unable to play in the garden, and was replaced with overpowering fulfillment to a single noise he produced.

it never once crossed your mind that the grunt you thought he reciprocated wasn't acknowledgement of your actions.

no, it was merely him seemingly too preoccupied at the thought of his dead son; mind lost, and with no direction to take other than the grief that's still instilled into the pools of his deep, blue eyes.

it never once occurred to you how he hasn't looked down at all, or heard the wispy intonations of your voice blending into the faint, whimsical tune of jazz music that does the least to ease the pain eating away at his chest every time he's given a moment alone to ponder ever-so deeper into his current world of worries.

a world where you don't exist, and you've never once come to realize that until it was too late.

whilst you were busy admiring every side of your father, the good and the bad, you were ignorant to the unforeseen implications of how he never reciprocated the love you've shown him that faithful day; forgotten and buried under lonely silent walls and echoing halls that could only echo a figment of your voice.

when he had left the room and you to find tim, you were left to your own devices once again. yet at that time, you simply bounced with joy and jumped to the nearest couch, allowing the delusions of an improving life shackle you to the deepest of regrets after.

and despite everything, the manor was colder still. and it is cruel and unforgiving to a child like you.

others would've given up, others wouldn't even try so hard after the first failed attempts.

but you? you just weren't them, and you continued trying, one after the other attempt all failing miserably; your first mistake, yet never the last.

it went on like that for 13 and a half years.

these occurrences where you thug at the fabric of the adults roaming around the hallways, only to be ignored or downright rejected. dick broke his promise about visiting your room a second time, but you still chose to bother him every time he comes to visit for anybody but you, tim was no better and preferred to keep his space all for himself; accustomed to the life of a being a single child and preferring it that way, alfred had butler duties, and secret identites he had to tend to every night, and your father was... just that.

thirteen.

an unlucky number in some cultures, a number that was too long when translated in the language of time.

a decade, and nearly a half spent trying and failing. even then, everything you do amounted to nothing. every sweet smile, every baked treats long discarded in the bin, every longing gaze, and effort to set about physical affections for people who were more like strangers to you than family.

strangers under the same roof, living and thriving whilst you wait for admission to be accepted into their comfortable circles and inside joke that raptures from their luminous eyes.

you remember every single moment you had when you were in close proximity with your siblings, and the moments they exactly leave and forget you were even besides them in the first place— quietly humming as if understood that you didn't wish to disturb their presence with yours, but happy enough that they could at least tolerate you.

even if that tolerance stems from the mere fact that you were akin to a ghost in their ever-so busy eyes.

even so, you still remember. young and forgiving, spite a foreign emotion on your tongue, not until you've met the youngest of your lot which would only be after a few years, when you were too late.

you remember the faint elation that courses off through your veins every time alfred promises to get you at least a sliver of meeting bruce again— but even that has barely any updates, you've long since given up the hope that you would see him beyond his busy days.

and you remember it very clearly when dick first introduced you to your room, the sheer brightness that emanates off of your idol, the curls of his hair that flow like ocean waves framing his chiseled face; and his smile, a grin that sports the brightest of teeth, which brings warmth that makes you forget why you were even taken in the first place, replaced with whimsy and giddiness that you get to meet your favorite person in the world, second to your mother.

the way his bright blue eyes contrast with bruce's, seemingly sunnier, more kinder in its approach that makes you drown deeper into the same gaze that forgets you a day after.

and those memories were stored in your heart, both good and bad, kept under lock and key to both haunt and tempt you throughout the entire months you had to deal with the loneliness clawing in your heart.

the pain was surreal every time you reminisce upon the windowsill, watching distantly in the garden that stretches far beyond thick fields of trees, flora and fauna; as tim spends his waking moments with his new group of friends who all praise the colorful array of bloom planted root-deep with love, and care and perseverance— all with soft, vibrant petals and sturdy stems that were a product of your hard-earned labor.

nobody truly acknowledged it was you who planted all those colorful arrays of flowers.

yet you remember everything, or at least recollections of when and how you came to realize just how truly invisible you are to the world.

the hope that flickers within once someone sets their eyes on you, family or friends. the heartbreak that settles within every fiber of pallid skin and sinewy bones every time those eyes leave your form after the slightest of seconds; you remember them all in record time and run to lock yourself in your room to write all these instances in an endless supply of diaries documenting just how miserable you truly are.

no matter if it pains you, and rips at the edges of thinly lined paper stained with black-inked pen writing down your harrowing rants; bleeding into the pages just like how your emotions run deeper than depression and ebbing anxiety.

dates were plastered as both a reminder and punishment for you to reflect upon— on all your wrongs, and ways on how to better yourself so someone, other than alfred, could finally acknowledge you for more than a few seconds.

you remember everything, you were sure of it, but not the first time you purposely drew blood from your skin, or when you contemplated ending it all.

maybe it was all stemming from pressure, or the constant subjection to emotional neglect paired with no support system helping you handle your instability to control your emotions.

or it came after you had first met damian, with your youngest brother threatening you with a damn sword that nicked your skin; making it his mission to torment you consistently your entire life. pushing you down the stairs, calling you and your mother names; a disgrace, mere baggage to the wayne's reputation— even if you glare at him with the slightest bit of bite does he retaliate with an even stronger approach. until you give up, until the fire in your eyes are washed away by the current of dizzying turmoil. until you couldn't even look at him eye-to-eye anymore, ignoring the wide stares he gives you and the way his hands reaches out to you after you run to a different room from his presence alone.

or it all probably fucking started when the lump in your throat had refused to go away, when the heavy boulder you call your heart weighs you down to watch in a corner as yet another member gets introduced into the family, when jealousy raptures and seers into your veins at just how easy...

how easy it is to actually integrate your presence into the wayne family, so why couldn't you?!

a week after you were integrated, it was tim who was welcomed warmly, who fits in so perfectly like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle whilst you were considered an exclusion, an extra who doesn't don a fucking cowl every night, who couldn't in your damn life break every bone and return in one piece, serving as a symbol inspiration for the media to set its eyes upon, and your smile most definitely doesn't brighten the entire room.

you're nothing compared to them.

to try so hard, to fail all the same— as your achievements, your successes and milestones all amount to nothing but heartbroken expectations and a pat of pity from your butler.

the hurt piles, and piles, and piles itself until the colossal infrastructure falls and obliterates around you in its torrid pits of flames and carnage, until glass shards erupt and pierce at your skin until it reaches bones— much like the blades you store and use to butcher skin until it turns into an unintelligible mess of bloodied lines flimsily slashed across the expanse of your body.

like an artwork, a canvas that pictures slaughter in the wake of tragedy. with blood that seeps and stains into the crevices of everything it touches, with you as both the painter and the muse of the chaos you chose to wreck upon yourself.

thick ropes, pill bottles, bottomless water, and sharp blades; they all became topics of interest within the pages of your flabbily designed sketchbook. there was a period of time where all you could do was subjecting each blank slate of ivory sheets with stabs of pencil lead and ruined brushes every time you handle things too roughly. you'd clench into whatever you're holding, and bite at your teeth until it draws blood that drips on grayscale sketches portraying you meeting brutal fates.

and it always ends in your ripping those sketches apart whilst curling in on yourself, pulling at unkempt hair and scratching at hollow, sunken cheeks.

with screams unheard, silent and voiceless through the halls of the manor you once considered a home— like a ghost with no words that come out its mouth, a robot with no voicebox, a doll whose mouth is stitched shut.

it was always silent every night, but the voice of doubt was always louder, and it beckons you to hang yourself, to end your life and to never look back at their wide grins as they spend yet another night together.

it convinces you to write a note for each and every member of the family, to bid them farewell and pass to the world; even if those letters would forego the same fate as you— neglected, stored at the dustiest corners of the room.

you're hurt, both inside and out, alone and deserted with only your thoughts; loud and unforgiving, terrible yet comforting. you feel hurt, at dick's broken promises and sideward glances, jealousy at jason's hold over bruce even after years of his death, spite at tim's brilliance and all the friends who come over at the manor, as if taunting you of his social privileges, and fear for damian to spring up against you, to kill you with his blades and serve your cold body upfront on top of the dinner table.

and you were hurting all the damn time. if not physically, then mentally and emotionally. you allowed the invisible shackles to scar you, trapping you with spikes constantly piercing through your organs. you let yourself be a victim to the past, subjecting yourself to punishment by remembering your mother, sprawled all across the floor in crimson carnage— as you're taken away from her by policemen scouring the area before you could even run to her limp body. it was enough to tempt you to draw sharp object on your skin, condemnation for a life that shouldn't be saved— you would've preferred if your mother lived, rather than you. she had so much more to do with her youthful life, you had nothing.

life was unbearable, you were always teethering on the edge of a cliff suspending in thin air; choosing to run for either hill, holding a string ready to break, for safety always required great risk. one you'd rather jump off of than expend anymore energy of your already weary life altogether—

until you had decided to change the course of your life. until, one day, through gradual thinking and contemplation, that they were the main source of your torment. that you needed to say goodbye, you need to live to honor your mother.

that was the only ideal part of your twisted world. all for your mother, who had sacrificed herself, her kind heart, all to keep you safe and contented.

when you had made the ultimate decision to move out of the manor, throwing away your past life and moving on with a different chapter, you thought your habits would've ceased. that you're cured, that nothing stands in the way of your developing independence and uprising confidence.

you are free, unchained to both the confines of your emotions and the neglect of your family.

happy, content, and living the best of your world despite the financial circumstances and... overdue bills. either way, you're satisfied and that counts. counts for the six-seven months you were away, meeting new friends, ignoring the prying eyes of a certain individual always watching you from afar, as you party and drink and come to only regret not staying sober the day after.

you were at your peak.

feeling the best of all worlds.

at least, not until dick's sudden messages flipped a switch, into a dormant part of your mind, adrenaline surging through your veins, your vision flooded with similar images of your past: of eerie hallways and lonely birthdays. those memories taunt you, and dick's gleaming pair of ocean eyes, that once bring comfort into your oblivious brain now traps you in his spiteful gaze.

and you really, genuinely thought you were no longer in need of anymore pain.

yet you were always wrong. of course you always are.

you're just you, remember?

now, in your current apartment, you stand hidden in the safety of your bathroom, staring at the mirror without thought, with only resignation; unprepared at your family's plans to take you back into their caging arms, but ready for the blade to once again reunite with the familiar lines long healed.

all to wash away your regret.

reblogs, and most especially comments and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: sometimes, the pain you bear is too much to handle alone. sometimes, it can manifest through physical means to overpower the anguish that hurts you from within. but that doesn't mean going through the notion is deserved; nobody should ever resort through hurting themselves. when writing this, i was projecting all my emotions into the mc. in truth, as much as i love goofy drabbles, or write for the pleasures of myself and others; that doesn't change any problems i have at all. chronic depression is a pain in the ass. releasing my emotions through writing helps me a lot. and i hope that whoever reads this little drabble know that this is a love letter both to me for how far i've come, and the readers who've supported me with comments and praises that helped me go through the day. i've nothing else to say, i feel indifferent to the draft.

[hplonesomeart]

Yeah here’s some images from a new project I picked up. For the past couple days I’ve been working on it. Gonna be a vent/comfort animation about animal crossing. Hoping I’ll be able to combat my terrible mental health and finish it. Because currently I’m thinking of giving up </3

[lorelune]

(continuation of this piece. part ii of regency au with jing yuan)

"he needs to stop doing this."

you tell lord luocha this as you stumble out of your one room cottage, desperately attempting to smooth down your day gown. your palms shake as you do and you shoot your patron an angry look.

lord luocha looks perfectly passive, painfully neutral with a hint of mirth. the bastard. "i think it's quite appropriate for the general to call upon you this hour of the day. i thought you would be prepared."

"i am not an 'eligible lady' as i am so often reminded," you shake your head. "i cannot constantly be ready to take his company, just because it's before supper. be reasonable, my lord. speak with him about this."

"perhaps," luocha tilts his head with the barest hint of a smile. "i'll consider it. for now, why don't you go greet our guest? i'll have some refreshments sent in."

"fine." you say. your voice wavers.

this is not the first time the retired general, Jing Yuan, has called upon you. it's more like the fifth. maybe sixth. it is more frightening to keep count of his increasingly frequently visits (as they clearly indicate some type of explicit interest), so you stopped counting them recently. peace of mind and all.

you enter the drawing with and bow to the general without thinking, "good afternoon, general."

"likewise," he says easily, voice so deep and rich; it makes your insides feel wobbly.

jing yuan sits on one of the loveseats, legs tastefully spread and in some amount of regalia. well-dressed, certainly. his hair is half-tied up as he so favors, and his face has a healthy amount of blush. a crisp jaw. bulging forearms and thighs beneath his various dressings. a broad chest. it is hard not to ogle him overtly. you train your gaze on the hand-tufted rug before rising and daintily (as you can) sit across from him on the other side of the loveseat. you tuck your legs to the side, barely remembering to not fully fold them under yourself. decorum and all.

(it feels foolish. jing yuan hardly seem to care. lord luocha thinks your bumbling is amusing.)

"i apologize for the intrusion," he says. he squeezes his hands into loose fists. you don't miss the action. "will you indulge me for a time?"

"i'm already here, aren't i?" you quip back, tone light. easy. "i don't mind the company."

there's more you could say—

("general, i think you are so very kind and thoughtful. thank you for spending your spare time with me.")

("general, i am sorry i can't attend any of the balls and festivities as anything more than a performer. i would not mind being on your arm, if circumstances were different, and you desired it so".)

("general, how much longer will you entertain this? are you intending to steal my heart, only to break it?"

instead, you remain quiet, picking at your nailbeds. jing yuan watches you with a hum. flexes his hands.

"are you working on any new pieces?" he asks.

"a few, actually." you reply. "the muses have been kind to me."

"oh?" he smiles. he tilts his head cutely, almost boyish, despite his age. "may i ask the subject matter?"

"ah—" you feel your face heat. "a number of things. subject matters. a varying themes."

truthfully, you have started four new paintings in the last week. all of which were started in moments of such deep inspirations, they had you painting and laying base colors from sunrise until sunset. it just so happens that these... works have. a clear theme. that of the general.

(during his second visit, he commented on the blooming azaleas. you've been obsessed with perfecting the shape of their petals. his third visit, you sat on the same seat as him. you were so much closer then, and found yourself lost in the honey color of his eyes. the punch of purple underneath them, an accumulation of sleepless nights. another is of a lion, like that of his crest. the final is a portrait of him that has you committing every bit of him to memory. perhaps you'll be able to capture his likeness with your memory if the muses continue to favor you.)

"you're quite the varied artist." he leans his jaw on his fist. "your dedication to your craft is most admirable."

"i cannot help the ways in which inspiration forces me to act," or, to thirst over the man in front of you. god forbid a parched man be given drink so fine. you shake your head. "i have had... some amount of increased, enjoyable, new interactions over the past while. i suppose i'm feeling invigored."

"oh?" jing yuan looks smitten. his eyes go half-lidded. "may i guess the source of your inspiration?"

"if you do, you'll only embarrass me."

"so, you think i will be right in my guess then?"

"i know so." you roll your eyes, sheepish. "i am not foolish enough to think i could hide face and play games with the Divine Foresight and win."

"you underestimate yourself."

"hardly. have you... met yourself, general?"

"often, frequently." he nods to himself. he catches your gaze. it's piercing. "i find myself in the mirror, often, these days. i tell myself that i am spry enough and have retained enough charm through my years to properly court and woo the recluse, genius artist i have been stealing time from. i meet the man in my mirror and think that he is quite clever, but tends to underestimate you as well."

your breath is caught in your chest. you scrunch the skirt of your dress up in your palms and swallow.

"the general speaks freely and foolishly."

"and yet, i do not lie."

"... you are brazen."

"do you not require such treatment?" jing yuan laughs sweetly. "if i were any more gentle with you, you would've already retreated far into your lord's gardens. i wouldn't hope to see you again. you will need to forgive me for my shamelessness."

"... i could perhaps be convinced." you scoot closer on the love seat. you should. create space away from him. before you do something stupid and unbecoming. but you find yourself drawn closer. "the general is a kind man. good-hearted."

"such a charitable assessment."

"i know it to be true." you do know. the man keeps his own gardens, tends them himself. he pays his servants good wages and left war and bloodshed behind sometime ago. "i would like to get to know his good heart more."

jing yuan steels himself then. you watch it happen. his spine straightens, his throat bobs. sweat beads at his temples, you now notice. his keeps his hands in his lap, wringing them together.

"then we are in agreement?"

"... only if the general treats me well." you stumble over your words. "only if you treat me well, general."

"jing yuan, please."

"fine. jing yuan, then." it takes everything in you not to reach for his hands. your last threads of civility barely remaining. "will you treat me well, jing yuan?"

he breathes. you feel the warm exhale of it fan over your cheeks. your gaze drops to the softness of his bottom lip.

"only the best, for you."

"so, you're smitten with me?"

"simply struck." he gulps. you need him, you decide, decorum be damned. you lean forward, just as he does. you can hear the tremor of your breath in time with his—

the door the drawing room opens, suddenly, with a resounding thud. you jump away from the general, a hand over your heart. you attempt to not noticeably pant, though you perhaps fail. lord luocha raises a knowing eyebrow as a few of his staff bring in a platter of a small treats and bubbly drinks in fluted glasses.

"forgive the intrusion," luocha places a hand on jing yuan's shoulder. the general straightens up. "i figured that you two must be in need some of refreshments. may i suggest a walk in the garden, later? perhaps, you could show him your herb patches, [name]."

lord luocha shoots you a knowing look.

(said patch of herbs is just outside of your cottage. a good distance away from the main estate.)

"i'd love to." you swallow and shake your head. "if the general will deign to spend a bit more time with me."

jing yuan looks at you, really looks at you, and smiles. it is an honest, genuine thing. you are glad luocha is at his back, so only you can see the earnest of it. it is something special, you think, just for you.

"as much as you will allow me."

and you will give him as much as you can muster.

[minty-stars1803]

~Cyphmen on my mind lately~

Thinking long and hard about cyphmen a lot lately.

How omen probably picked up on and bakes Amir his favorite sweets, or cooks him his favorite meals.

How he probably brings him a pot of tea after a long days work (with extra mint, just like he likes it).

Has taken to simply putting sugar on the side instead of doing for him bc He never quite got down how Amir likes it. Sometimes he puts none, other times he loads his cup. (I like to think he prefers it less sweet most of the time)

Omen, who is one of the few with the privilege of seeing Amir’s face in this day and age.

Omen, who makes the effort to savor every moment of seeing Amir’s face like it might be the last.

He makes note of every freckle and mole, every wrinkle and smile line, every scar and indent, every spot left by his vitiligo. (yes I HC that cypher has it just like his VA)

One would think that he could draw cypher by memory.

And he does.

It’s known that omen explores baking, caring for bonsai trees, and knitting amongst other things, as a means of hobby and easing himself.

So what if he draws and paints in his pass time as well.

If he keeps sketchbooks, half the pages are full of Amir, the things that remind him of Amir, things related to him, things he likes.

Omen would keep a whole museum of his lovers face if he could.

It took them so long to let each other in.

To learn to be open to others again, especially in a romantic sense.

After all that has happened in both their pasts, trust and love probably wouldn’t be first on the list of things desired or thought of.

It takes Amir so long to rest assured once he finally lets his guard down around omen.

What if he looses him to, what if it goes sour.

I like to think he tracks and keeps tabs on omen quite a bit more than the other agents.

Omen tries to reassure him constantly that he’s fine. He’s always been fine. And nothing has changed.

But things are different now in the emotional sense, and Amir can’t quite help it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ajsjshhshshahgwgegsv this is my first time writing anything even remotely resembling a fic in so damn long… it’s more a stream of consciousness tbh… I think about cyphmen daily. So I hope yall at least kinda like it…

I plan on picking up writing again, I’ll def be posting more works here. I should also work on making a list of what fandoms and who within them I plan on/will write for.

[urdadthinksimfine]

Im so sad in here. so disconnected. i look at the pictures that torture me, but its not only that. the pictures i see, when im just there, its all just like that. pictures, nothing that is really my life.

im too sad to connect with others, i feel pushed away with how they make connection. i feel like they take parts of me, while they keep theirs.

playing guitar, cleaning and decorating my room could help, right? living in my space.

im thankful tho, that i can even sit in the library some days a week, lately. its thinking about life instead of living it, still, but its more than nothing, maybe.

having things in my fridge and a place and stuff to prepare stuff, could also help, couldnt it.

getting my drivers license, maybe..

it all feels disconnected, trying to get from one moment to another.

i wonder if thats from the addcition. because im constantly longing to do stuff and im constantly anxious to do it, to even try, because behind every movement, every action, there seems to wait destruction, misery for me.

im constantly scared, constantly anxious, constantly alert, theres a constant fight with something working against me, within me.

it could be addiction, it could be depression, it could be me, loosing all hope, lossing to the desire to give in, to give up.

its a battle to feel like not being in a battle for just a second, its a battle to relax.

.

id love to have a desk with shelves with books and drawing material, everythings a fixed place, everythings in contact with me, in a relationship. drawing, painting, my laptop and that stuff, something to write.

id lvoe to be able to do that at home, writing, rapping, learning, practicing stuff at home, trying out stuff, organizing things in my head and on paper.

my home is a mess, everythings all over the place and it always was like this, in my head and in my room. i wonder if.. becoming clean and recovered will work for me. i wonder, if change is possible. i wonder if i ever feel like what is happening is mine, that things are possible to experience.

[urlkssknt]

a deep love confession

warnings!! nsfw!! unprotected sex!!

johnny x fem reader, 3k

johnny stared at you with such intensity, you had never seen that look in his eyes before. he looked mad. he was mad. at you, specifically. of course, you were a grown woman, one who could handle any form of danger, but that knowledge didn't help the anxiety that was weighing down on johnny's chest heavily. "where were you?" johnny tried to speak in the calmest tone he could muster but he was failing to mask his emotions. was it because you didn't inform him that you left for the deal or was it because he felt like you didn't trust him?

you scanned his posture as he stood still in your bedroom, a room that all of your men were forbidden from entering, even dohwan. yet, you always welcomed johnny. sighing, you began to shrug off the jacket you wore and placed it on your bed, not bothering to answer the man in your room. to you, it didn't seem like such a big deal, you were simply doing your job.

"y/n, i just asked you a question."

both of your eyes locked onto each other, a mutual look of intensity, hoping to try and read each other's minds, johnny just wanted to understand you but you were making it so difficult for him. your eyes were blank. you showed no detectable emotions.

"i don't answer to you," was what you said that threw johnny off the edge. whatever patience was left in him now vanished. groaning loudly, johnny ran his hand through his hair and held onto his neck. he couldn't shout at you, he couldn't do anything.

you infuriated him.

johnny decided it was best to leave you alone, maybe forever. the feelings he felt for you heavily trumped what you felt for him, johnny assumed in his mind, that was always constantly things about you. there was no way to tell what you were thinking and it stressed him out. he just wanted to understand you.

"wow," johnny scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he glared at you, the way you just gazed back at him obliviously pissed him off even more, "i guess i shouldn't have worried about you then, huh?" anger was laced with every word he spoke in a voice that was quiet so no one that happened to be walking past could hear but loud enough for you to listen. the warm light of your room illuminated johnny's features, his beautiful face hardened like a rock, jaw tense. "do you even care that i was worried about you? i get that you don't care about you own life but i care, y/n! me!" you were speechless. feelings were never your strong point, voicing them aloud was even worse. slowly, you began to process johnny's words, however the said man took your silence literally and as a rejection.

feeling fed up, johnny began to walk towards the door, the sound of his leaving footsteps booming in your ear like thunder. it awoke something in you as if a switch had been turned on. johnny's fingers were ready to reach out for the door handle to leave out of your life before he froze in his steps, "i'm sorry."

you had apologised.

the two words were foreign to your tongue but you hoped johnny could hear the sincerity in your shakey voice. it was only a matter of a few more seconds before johnny felt your hands wrap around his waist, your head resting against his broad back. he felt warm to you. any anger that he experienced quickly evaporated with that one act.

"i can't stand to see the sight of you walking away," the image of it was still fresh in your mind, causing you to tighten your grip on him, in fear he would actually leave. your fingers trembled as you clutched johnny's cotton shirt. "the way i feel for you," you began slowly with a wavering voice as you thought out every word, trying to piece everything you wanted to say, "i haven't felt this way about anyone before, and i don't know if i deserve to feel it." your heart was hammering in your chest, you were afraid that johnny could feel it beating, a sheet of paper couldn't pass between your grip on the taller man.

as johnny felt your grip loosen, he instantly held your hands against him again.

"i love you," you whispered quietly in a defeated tone.

johnny turned around so quickly you were afraid he might have experienced whiplash. the hardened features of his face had finally softened, showing you everything you found so dearly beautiful about him. as his dark eyes pierced into yours, johnny raised one of his large hands to cup your face. he didn't miss the way you nestled into it further, the simple act causing his heart to skip a beat. the organ was beating so loudly out of his chest johnny was almost certain you could hear it in the comforting silence, unbeknownst to him, your heart matched his rapid pace.

"i want to be the one by your side, y/n," johnny's other free hand snaked around your waist to draw you closer to him, with your hands still wrapped around him, "please, i can handle everything you throw at me, just... let me be a part of your world." his forehead rested against yours, you could feel his warm breath falling upon your skin, finding peace in it. johnny was real and not a figment of your dreams that were beginning to replace the recurring nightmares that occupy your sleepless nights.

"but you'll get hurt," your body stiffened at the thought of johnny becoming hurt or worse, dead. all because of you.

"then let me," johnny held onto you tighter, embracing you with both arms, his scent unknowingly calming you down, "i know you'll protect me no matter what," he had spoken with a smirk that was so obvious in his voice.

gazing upon your face once more, johnny knew he reached your ice cold heart. that all his efforts didn't go to waste. your neck craned as you looked up at him with endearing eyes, as if he was the most perfect creature to have been created. it began to cause a stir in him. taking advantage of your dazed state, johnny angled his head lower so he could meet your lips. unlike the first kiss you both shared, the taste of tobacco is no longer lingering like a reminder of your habit, just the taste of your lip gloss. it was so sweet. johnny indulged himself in the sweetness, you kissed him back with an equal amount of eagerness. your slender fingers ran up the expanse of johnny's chest, standing on the tips of your feet to match his height but yet you were still shorter than him. the soft kiss quickly became anything but innocent, the urge to have johnny bed you almost had your knees buckling.

somehow, johnny had moved you both to your bed, where you sat in his lap, your thighs on either side of him. warm comforting hands ghosted along your bare legs, the skirt you wore had ridden up, revealing more inches of your body for johnny to touch. "i want you," you breathed as you pulled away from johnny's swollen lips.

johnny groaned at your words. he had imagined this moment ever since you deemed his yours, the thoughts normally continued in a lonesome cold shower and the company of his hand. a blush grazed his cheeks at the embarrassing thoughts. the blood rushed to his dick at the sight of your doe eyes pleading him to consent. "fuck," johnny's voice dropped an octave, "you sure, darling?"

the small nod of your head was the green light. his hands gripped at your hips, guiding you dangerously closer to feel where he needed you most. intently, johnny watched as you gasped at the feeling of his hardening dick through his jeans.

"i'll make you cum on my dick instead of my tongue," the lewd words were whispered softly, hot breath fanning against your ear, only for you to hear. in a matter of seconds, you felt johnny's pulp lips press opened-mouth kisses along the juncture of your neck, his lips upturned into a smirk when you titled your head to allow him to have more access. cherry blossoms trailed from beside your ear down to your collarbone. a gasp emitted from you at the harsh sting of your skin between johnny's teeth.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," you wondered how johnny viewed you, a psychotic bitch who needed to be locked up or someone who was deserving of love. cradling his face between your cold hands, you littered soft kisses all around johnny's handsome face, mentally swearing to yourself to kill anyone who as much places a scratch upon it. johnny stilled at the sudden affection. your wondering hands turn south from johnny's chest, you had the blessing of being able to peel the white t-shirt off from his body, leaving him bare before your eyes. johnny was very confident in his body, the way you drooled over him like a child craving a candy, made him chuckle. the laughter died when you suddenly began to undress yourself, revealing the dark lace undergarments you wore. johnny's mind wondered if you purposely wore such a thing for his eyes only.

returning to his lap, you innocently rolled your hips against johnny's unbelievably hard dick, eliciting a sound from him that made you clench around nothing. "do you want me to cum in my pants?" you blinked at him in confusion as if your heat wasn't sat directly on top of the area where he needed you most. johnny rolled his eyes at your unresponsive reaction. for a mafia boss, you knew nothing about sex. "where do you keep your condoms?" he shifted his weight in order to search through your bedside table for the packaged rubbers.

"i don't have any," you told johnny, watching the way the muscles in his back tense, "you're my first."

he knew this already but it spurred something in him to hear it again. johnny turned his head to you at lightning speed, catching you off guard. a voiceless part of him takes pride in knowing that you never took pleasure in someone else before him, unlike what the rest of the boys believed. if they only knew, johnny thought.

"darling, we can't do this then."

"no!" the sound of your own voice shocks you, never did you think you would be so intoxicated by a man that you'd loose all sense of pride, but johnny sat there, peering down at you, and suddenly the desire for him to fill you increased tenfold. "isn't it better without?" you reasoned, remembering the conversation with yuta about sex being better without protection. the chance of you getting pregnant during your first time seemed low to you, you knew it was a risk but you'd do anything to cease the throbbing you felt.

"yeah but-" johnny's reasoning was cut short by your lips kissing along his chest, so lightly like petals grazing against his skin, "baby." his groan only added to the wetness that was pooling in your panties, all for him.

your hands wrap around his neck to bring johnny's gaze back to your lustful ones, "it'd be nice," your voice sounded as smooth as butter, coaxing him to give into your every desire, "my belly swollen with your baby." you practically purr in his ear. johnny felt his dick twitch in its restrictive confinements, reminding himself of just how unforgivingly hard he is.

"for a virgin," johnny sighs shakily, feigning disappointment, as he began to undo his trousers, pushing his boxers down with them, "you have such a foul mouth," he moved to sit against the headboard of your bed that was fit for a king, "should i stuff it with my dick?" johnny hummed, not missing how your thighs rubbed together slightly.

all the arrogance left your body when you peered at johnny's dick, eyes lingering for a moment too long. you gulped. there was no way for you to tell if his size was regular, due to your inexperience, but he looked big.

mocking laughter fell from johnny, you looked so scared sat in his lap, having no absolute fucking clue what to do, a sight people would pay billions to see, and yet you trusted johnny enough to be the one who sees you like this. his chest swelled with pride. he was your first. somewhere in his heart, johnny knew he'd be your last too.

the tips of your fingers curled between johnny's soft locks as he pulled you back in his strong arms, slotting his warm lips between your own. his mind drifted back to when he ate you out, the taste of you still fresh in his mind. you moaned sinfully against him as his hand groped your breast through your bra, you rutted against him in response to the pleasure. his other hand itched it's way to your back, managing to unclap the lace material, freeing your breasts. leaning down, johnny doesn't miss the opportunity to press a kiss along the valley between your mounds, leaving you a sighing mess above him.

"please, john," you said breathlessly, you were aching for him to touch you in the area you desired most yet he avoided completely.

gripping your hips tightly, johnny guided you to be on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist yet again, after throwing your panties to pile with the rest of the disregarded clothes on the floor. your body trembled slightly out of nervousness. johnny cupped your face with his large palm, "we don't have to do this," he said again. your pleasure was the only thing that mattered to him, he could withstand another cold shower for your sake. however, you urged him to continue.

your hips bucked at the feeling of johnny's hand cupping your sex. "you're dripping," his eyes darkened at the way your wetness glistened under the lighting, before licking his hands clean as if it were the richest frosting, something straight out of a porno. the hum johnny produced caused a chill to run through your body as you completely focused on him.

wasting no more time, johnny aligned himself with your enterance, helping you slowly ease yourself onto him. every cry you emitted from the discomforting stretch was shushed with reassuring mumbles, encouraging words about you 'taking him so well,' and soft kisses peppered around your pain-ridden face. the air in your lungs left your body at the feeling of being completely filled. it took all of johnny's strength to not just thrust into you and take you as he pleased. your walls were so tight and so warm around him, his mind felt like it was going to explode.

as the pain surpassed, you began to rock your hips at a slow irregular pace. each second was agonising for johnny as all he could do was grip at your hip. he was sure a bruise would be left there tomorrow. the other hand kneed the flesh of your ass, coaxing you to move a bit faster. johnny's lips attached themselves to your left breast, swirling his tongue against your nipple softly, the gasp you let out only encouraged the assault. it wasn't until his teeth grazed the sensitive peak that you clenched around him deliciously. johnny cursed out as his hips bucked into yours, hitting a spot you didn't know existed, "do that again, darling."

your breaths were loud in your partner's ears, chest heaving as the air was knocked out of your lungs, your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of johnny, much like your cunt was. the feeling of your orgasm approaching burned in your lower body.

"j-john," you tried to silence your pathetic whines by pressing your face into johnny's shoulder, his name fell like a mantra from your lips as if it were the only word you knew.

"my pretty, pretty girl," johnny cooed at the fucked out expression adorning your face, a look no one apart from him would ever be able to witness.

the rolling of your hips became sloppier, the longer you chased your high. your legs began to feel numb. johnny's hips suddenly began to thrust up into you, so deeply that tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"'m so close." it was a miracle that your nails didn't break as they created deep crescent-like cuts in johnny's back. you hung onto his shoulders for dear life. if you were hurting him, johnny didn't show it.

he was embarrassed to say it but johnny could feel his high rising in such a short time. the way you called his name when he couldn't be more closer to you made his head spin, slowly loosing control as you clenched around him tighter. grunts and groans fell from him, immediately being swallowed by your parted lips.

sweat adorned your skin, your hair matted against the top of your forehead, johnny couldn't imagine what he looked like himself, his hair was probably a mess from your clutches.

"fuck, john, why is your dick so big?"

"you did not just say that," johnny snorted, wishing he had a camera to capture the blush that crept on your cheeks in embarrassment, had you said the wrong thing?

"do you want me to cum in you, darling?" the lewd question was said with such innocence, no one would have suspected the effect it had on you, "should i?" johnny's grip got stronger, as if it were possible, and began to thrust his hips up into you, repeatedly hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. the quiet moans falling from your lips and the way your walls clenched around his dick were a big giveaway that you were nearly at your high.

you emitted a gasp as the coil in your stomach snaps, the pleasure quickly become too much as johnny continued to pound you from beneath. in a matter of seconds, you could feel the warmth of his load coating your walls.

finally, your lover stilled in you, waiting just one more moment before leaving your warmth. the whine from the loss of johnny's dick almost made him do a double-take, desiring to fill you up again. however he knew better and wanted to let you rest. johnny kissed the crown of your head, his strong arms holding your slumped body up against him. "you okay?"

you managed a small hum, feeling too tried to respond. johnny noticed your drooping eyelids, he gently helped you off his lap and lay down on your bed, despite your protests of missing his warmth. a small chuckle fell from him as he looked at the marks you created along his chest in the bathroom mirror. he went in to get a towel to clean you up with and a shirt for you to sleep in so you wouldn't sleep cold. by the time johnny returned, you had managed to fall asleep in the short time. regardless, the older man continued to clean up the mess between your thighs, he couldn't manage to slip your shirt on you so johnny made sure to tuck the blankets in tightly.

"john, can you sleep with me?" your small voice asked, tired eyes meeting his with a pleading look.

"what did we just do earlier," johnny joked as he put his boxers on, the light in your room casted a glow around him that likened him to an angel.

"stay with me."

your hand had managed to sneak its way out of the blanket and beckoned johnny to lay beside you. the sucker he was for you, anything you desired you would have, who was he to deny you of himself. sighing, johnny clambered into the cold bed, he shivered as he laid beside you. like a moth to a flame, you reached out to touch him, yearning for the warmth of his naked body. johnny was always warm and you were always cold.

"haechan will notice i'm not there," he said softly with his long fingers running through your hair.

"i don't care," you said simply, the members were almost certain that something was happening between you and johnny, they just needed confirmation. "neither should you, your thoughts should only consist of me."

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 9 - Intimate (1)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Teasing, Sex with Gojo Satoru (is that a good enough explanation lol?), squirting

Summary: Gojo uses you to relieve some of his stress after his little argument with your best friend, and poses a question that catches you off guard.

A/N: ~ a little bit of possessive/jealous Gojo ~ this is smut, and there will be a part two that follows up with this chapter! I hope you enjoy it x

- - - 

His tall figure nailed you against the frame of your front door, your body growing hot as Gojo pressed his abdomen into you. You squeezed your ankles, drawing his movements closer as he deepened his kiss. Letting go of his hair that was curled between your fingers, your hand released the back of his head and gently trailed down his neck. His muscles were tense, his skin taut as you moved across his collarbone and onto his other shoulder, desperately trying to counter his energy with your soft touches. You gripped onto his shirt, fighting against his insistent mouth that had you colliding into the hard wood behind you.

A part of you knew that something was off about his behavior but the other half was blinded by complete lust. You wanted to catch your breath, figure out exactly what set him off but instead chose to entertain his insatiable desires. There was a growing ache radiating from your core and spreading down between your legs. Right now, the only person who can help with it is the man before you.

You felt his hand lightly slip away from underneath your thigh while the other traded your breast for the curve of your spine as he shifted to support you on your back. You could feel the pads of fingers touch the skin of your leg, shooting up your nerves as he snaked his way underneath the fabric of your loose, fleece shorts to rub your already soaked underwear. He finally pulled away from your lips, pressing them into your neck instead as his thumb playfully circled against you.

“ Fuck…” he whispered hoarsely, his breath sending goosebumps across your skin.

He managed to slip two fingers easily inside you, inserting himself all the way in before scissoring his digits.

“ Ohh, ‘toru…” you moaned, barely able to say his name as his fingers pleasured you while his tongue tasted your skin.

Your body was getting hotter by the second, your legs shaking trying to hold yourself around him. Gojo’s hand was drenched in your arousal as he quickened his pace. You were so used to him drawing out your orgasms, taking his time as if he was mapping out each second before reaching the final destination.

He was moving at a quick pace, not stopping once to tease or torment you. His actions had you whining in desperation as he drew you closer to your release, moving rapidly until your first orgasm ripped right through you. He supported you as your body clenched around him, pushing himself away from you to watch you come undone before him. You didn’t care that your back was sore from the friction against the door, or that your muscles ached from the position you were in. The minute you felt that build up release from within you, a desperate cry escaped your lips. You knew that if any of your neighbors were outside, they probably heard the entire thing.

Gojo repositioned himself to face you, bringing his slender fingers to your lips. His silence was deafening because the man absolutely adored dirty talk, which was always an added plus when he praised you for your efforts. The quiet, stoic reaction you were getting had you flustered for a whole other reason. His middle finger tapped your cupid’s bow, indicating you to open your mouth. His command made your cheeks bloom with warmth but you parted your lips anyway to suck his fingers clean.

You hated that you sometimes associated Gojo with your ex-boyfriend, but you didn’t have any other partners to compare notes with.

When you were with your ex, sex was something that the two of you explored together as a couple. You were both young and naive, trying to learn each other’s bodies and over time you both grew into one another’s touch. However, sex still only played a small  role in your entire relationship, uncomparable to the emotional intimacy you shared.

With Gojo, things were so different. You didn’t think it was possible to be as attracted to somebody as you were to him, the way your body immediately responded to him was magnetic. You would never admit how easily he preoccupied your mind but the longer you two kept exploring this avenue of your friendship, the harder it was for you to ignore your infatuation. Yes, he took the time he needed to study every part of you, like a musician playing an instrument, but he was a fast learner and quick to pick up on the things that made you sing beautifully for him.

Gojo carefully let go of you, allowing your feet to land on the floor as you stood on shaky knees. He stepped away from you, his fingers hooking onto your t-shirt as he tugged you in the direction towards your bedroom not lifting his gaze from you even once.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded as he shut the door.

After you got undressed, you found your position on the mattress, laying flat on your back as you watched Gojo strip down to his boxers. You squeezed your slick coated thighs together, biting your bottom lip and admiring his gorgeous figure until he finally removed the last article of clothing he was wearing, your mouth growing dry at the sight of his erection.

He crawled his way over the bed before hovering himself above you, his hand reached for the back of his head, and your eyes widened slightly as you watched him undo the knot to allow his blindfold to loosen from around his temple. White hair framed those eyes, a mesmerising blue that knocked the wind out of you.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, “I thought-”

Before you could finish your statement, Gojo had taken away your sight, wrapping the material around your eyes and shrouding you in darkness. You swallowed hard, wondering how Gojo could even see through the thick fabric that constantly concealed him. You felt his fingers working, a tightness circling the back of your head as he fastened the knot.

“Is this okay?” he asked kindly in a low voice, waiting for you to give him an answer before he carried on.

You nodded your head and he responded with a kiss.

“Good.”

He forcefully spread your legs open, his tongue stroking upward along your slit. His arms wrapped underneath your thighs, hands latching onto your hips as he buried himself between your legs. Your head fell back onto the sheets, a pleasured sensation filtering along your body. Something about not being able to see made this entire experience more thrilling, because you couldn’t focus on anything else except Gojo’s mouth. It wasn’t long before you had your second orgasm, your back arching off the mat as you held his head closer to you. Gojo, however, didn’t stop. He felt you wiggle your hips away from him, and pulled you back in with a grunt. His mouth found you sensitive pearl, enclosing around it as he began to suck before freeing up one of his hands to dive into your cunt.

“ Satoru…wait… ” you begged, too sensitive to have him keep working on you anymore. “ w-wai…ohhhh… ”

But he didn’t heed your plea, instead he curled his fingers even further inside you, fucking you again with his hand. Your body shivered, panting heavily as you tried to raise your hips away but the man refused to stop and instead your movements only caused you to dance with his own, leaving a pressure to start building again from within you. You couldn’t even think straight, seeing little sparks before your eyes within the darkness until you mewled when you felt his teeth nibble on your clit.

His other hand was rough on your skin, pressing into your hips and you knew for a fact he was going to leave a few marks. You always gave him a hard time about it but secretly you loved it. He had such an easy claim on your body, and you willingly gave into him without question.

When his tongue was inside you is when you came a third time, and then a fourth time. And then…

“ I-I can’t…fuck! ‘toru..it’s too much…it’s too much… ”

Your hands reached for his head, pushing him away. He lifted up his gaze, and you were unable to see the smirk that spread across his glistened lips. His fingers found his place back inside you, “ you can and you will, angel. ”

By the time Gojo drove you to your fifth orgasm, you could barely breathe, the mattress soaked with your arousal. Your body was weak, pulsing along with your racing heart and you were wetter than you’ve ever been before. You swallowed hard, trying to fully grasp what just happened.

“How amusing,” Gojo complimented, his words steeping with sheer satisfaction.

You could hear him fumble around, your trembling hands reaching for the blindfold that you tugged off.

Once Gojo slipped on the condom, he returned his attention back to you. Your eyes met, your heart nearly stopping from the way he was looking at you. Passion swirled through his irises, a fiery blue that singed if you stared for too long. His gaze is intense, making you blush when you realize that this is how he’s always been looking at you.

You look at the mess that you created, your insecurities twisting your insides.

“I…”

Gojo could see the slight panic in your eyes, bringing that devilish mouth of his onto your lips to kiss you.

“ Mmm, you were fucking perfect. Let’s see if we can try that again. ”  

His hands held your waist, turning you around until you were face down and you naturally lifted yourself up from behind to assume the position. The tip of his cock spread your lips open, and he thrusted himself hard into you from behind. The muscles in your legs clenched, a satisfied sigh escaping you feeling the length of his member. Your walls were pulsing around him, the fullness sending goosebumps across your abdomen. Gojo didn’t move, he just held himself there for a minute, feeling your warmth around his stiff cock.

He brought his lips down to your neck, lazily trailing kisses on your skin and moving his hand to meet your clit once again. Still buried inside you, his finger began working the most sensitive part of you.

“You weren’t supposed to take off the blindfold, ” he murmured against your ear. “You broke one of our rules… ”

“You broke one first,” you whispered in response, making him chuckle against your skin.

Satoru didn’t move, leaving you pinned underneath him in anguish. He slowed down his pace with his fingers and you whimpered as you clutched your bedsheets.

“You’re too good to me, angel,” he whispered in your ear, his words almost sad as he slowly pulled his hips away.

“ Always so wet and eager for me …” he continued, driving himself back inside you and earning another whimper in response.

“ Tell me, angel. Has any man ever fucked you like this before ?”  

You gasped as he began alternating his words with his movements, leaving you melting underneath him.

“Has he ever made you come like that before?”

Now that question caught you off guard.

Your face grew hot; Gojo knew what he was asking - he wanted to know if your ex made you feel even half as good as he did in bed. Did he ever drive you to the point where you were so unraveled by what was happening, you painted his sheets from sheer pleasure.

You parted your lips to speak but no words came out, slightly shocked that Gojo would even pry into your personal memories like that. Your pause made him stop his movements, his free hand finding yours and intertwining his fingers in your own as he pressed your fist into the mattress.

You swallowed hard, “ he-um...we’ve never… ”

“ Yes or no? ”

“ N-no… ” you replied truthfully. “ Just you.”  

You wondered if it was jealousy or passion feeding into his sexual ego. Gojo returned to his movements, his body enveloping on top of you as he fucked you. He quickened his pace, the sound of your bodies writhing surrounding you both. You were aching from your releases already, knowing full well that you won’t be able to last long underneath him.

“Tell me you’re mine…”

“ Satoru…” you replied, dizzy with the heightened emotions you were feeling. Your words were caught in your throat, replaced with another moan feeling his dick slipping in and out of you.

“ Say it, angel. ” he repeated, his hand increasing the pressure on your clit and forcing tears to prick your eyes.

Your breath hitched as you tried to speak, “ yours . I’m yours- ”  

He fucked you with intensity, the tension only fueling every thrust that he drove into you. As you felt him inside you, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the moment completely drunk on pure lust. You didn’t even realise in your haze you were still whispering those words, reminding him over and over again that in this moment your body belonged to him alone. White noise rang in your ear when you finally came, you were going limp underneath him as your muscles finally relaxed against the mattress as you rested.

“ Mine,” you heard him groan in return, holding you close into his chest as he finally found his own release.  

The two of you were intertwined, limbs tangled and sharing slow breaths while trying to acclimate from your post-sex high. After Gojo caught himself, he finally decided to release you from his grip, rolling onto his back as he held you against his rising and falling chest. His eyes were closed, his head heavy and he could tell he had exhausted himself. He pinched his eyelids together with one hand, all that pent up irritation filtering away.

He felt your hand in his, which you haven’t let go since he held yours. You stroked the inside of his palm with your thumb, the first to break the silence as you turned to look up at him.

“Uhm...if you plan on sticking around, I can make us some dinner after we freshen up…”

“Sure,” he replied, keeping his eyes closed before asking, “you wouldn’t happen to have a black scarf lying around by any chance?”

- CHAPTER 10: INTIMATE (2) - 

[arvandus]

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY!  1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it.  Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught.  Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

 All of the above?

 All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire.  Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name.  The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

 Like his hands.  You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight.  They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand.  They were a thing to be feared and avoided.  But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like?  You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

 Or his lips.  They were always covered by his mask.  You never, ever saw him without it.  You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin.  Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

 It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive.  Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

 You bet that part of him was soft too.

 The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes.  They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes.  But they lacked the warmth of Heaven.  Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

 The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore.  Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.  

 He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own.  That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing.  Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization.  You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates.  No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

 First impressions were everything to Kai.  Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion.  As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again.  You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips.  After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster.  And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

 The message he sent was clear: adapt or die.  When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

 So, you adapted.  As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.  The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

 And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad.  Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him.  But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either.  Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often.  But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it.  And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth.  But it was just a job, right?  You didn’t need warmth.

 So why did you feel so dissatisfied?  Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

 The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

 You craved his attention.  It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care.  To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction.  The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

 As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust.  They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were.  It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.”  You wanted him.  At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse.  After all, this was Overhaul.  Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain.  It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.  

 You began to act different in front of him.  Nothing too obvious, of course.  After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all.  All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

 So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance.  You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes.  Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings.  In the end though, it made no difference.  There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

 Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside.  It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening.  Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone.  No papers remained on his desk.  His gloves and plague mask were gone.  With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

 Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood.  It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints.  You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

 You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution.  No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

 You should have just left it at that.  But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

 That should have been your first clue.

 But your mental alarms never sounded.  Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

 You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right?  Left for the evening.  What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit?  With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

 That should have been your second clue.

 But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment.  You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes.  It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

 Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot.  Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded.  What if those were his fingers?  The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more.  You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it.  Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

 You shouldn’t be doing this.  Not here of all places.  But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations.  After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it.  And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him.  Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

 And dear God, did you need it.  You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties.  Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

 What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He was gone, right?  And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left.  He’d be none the wiser.

 Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get.  You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

 So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in.  A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart.  In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill.  It felt so fucking good.  The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat.  You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

 “Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

 There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

 Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic.  You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

 FUCK. Of course.  You forgot to check outside.  He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

 Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  You hadn’t heard him enter.  How long had he been standing there??

 “I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask.  His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

 Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

 “I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”

 “I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

 “Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

 You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

 “I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

 You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing.  His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

 “Look at you...” he grumbled.  “Disgusting.”

 His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression.  His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

 He was going to kill you.  You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less.  But you weren’t ready for it.  You didn’t want to die.

 You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare.  “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

 “Overhaul.”

 “Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me.  I meant no disrespect.”

 “No disrespect?” he sneered.  “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

 His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him.  You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence.  He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.  

 “Clean it up.”

 With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.  

 You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather.  Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame.  His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you.  It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge.  He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

 Not that you’d try to.  You knew better.

 When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.  

 It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life.  But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I... I was just...” you stammered.

 “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

 You swallowed and set down the trashcan.  He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you.  Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head.  You stopped breathing.

 There was something... electric in the air.  You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps.  His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face.  Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely.  Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released.  After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

 Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes.  The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra.  Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier.  You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

 And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

 A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

 Hope.

 Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in.  “Follow me.”

 Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair.  Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

 “Sit.”

 Confusion.

 “W-What??” you stuttered.

 “I said sit.” He replied.

 You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt.  You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you.  His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

 “Continue.” He stated.

 “What? What do you mean?” you asked.

 His eyes stared at you knowingly.  “You didn’t get to cum, did you?”  You shook your head, stunned at his words.  “Continue.” He repeated.

 “Right here?”

 “Where else?  It was good enough for you earlier.”  His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed.  “Continue.”

 Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction.  So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

 With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access.  Chisaki didn’t look down.  Not right away, at least.  Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent.  With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you.  It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening.  You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.  

 Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to.  You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers.  It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened.  Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat.  Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him.  You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel.  You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him.  Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build.  It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat.  But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least.  You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

 With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal.  Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge.  You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat.   Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

 You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths.  Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum.  You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit.  The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

 You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure.  Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

 You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants.  Was he trying to hide it?  Because he was failing.  Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

 “Again.” He ordered.

 Your eyes bulged.  “Again?”

 He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently.  You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight.  He wanted you to do it again?

 At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired.  But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you.  No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing.  It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare.  Do it again and see what happens.

 Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

 Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb.  Except for your clit.  That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core.  With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips.  It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it.  Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki.  Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

 It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length.  You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly.  It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.  

 You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you.  With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith.  You wanted it.  You wanted to cum so badly.  But you wanted to see him even more.  So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts.  You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered.  With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips.  The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

 It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

 You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down.  You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

 It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum.  Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

 You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

 “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.  

 He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

 “Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

 You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes.  Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter.  He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand.  Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him.  You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask.  Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you.  It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

 It was the push your sensitive body needed.  You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first.  Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure.  With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

 You were given no respite.  As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

 “Again.”

 Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity.  You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation.  It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

 Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out.  “B-But... I can’t....”

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly.  He was smirking at you. Cruelly.  

 “You can, and you will.” He said.  A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings.  “Again.” He repeated.

 Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes.  You stared at the exposed skin in awe.  It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed.  Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine.  Maybe… maybe if you were good…

 You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit.  Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily.  Watching him masturbate to you was delicious.  He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light.  You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger?  Maybe both?

 You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand.  The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to.  It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

 But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

 He continued his strokes, slow and easy.  Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him.  His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need.  It was happening... he was going to cum...

 But he never did.  Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

 Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

 Maybe he was waiting for you.  Or maybe he had his own agenda.  But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

 The hypocrite.

 Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted.  But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.  

 It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation.  The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him.  You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

 “Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged.  Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours.  Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

 Chisaki froze mid-stroke.  “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

 “Please,” You begged.  “Don’t you want to?”

 His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before.  After all, what you were asking was no small order.  You knew how he felt about touch.  No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

 But that was why you begged. And pleaded.  And groveled.  Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

 “Please...” you whined one last time.  “I’ll do anything.  I need you, Kai...”

 Something about you using his given name did something.  His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck.  Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat.  You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie.  He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable.  He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence.  Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

 You waited.

 “Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

 Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you.  Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

 “So fucking filthy.” He breathed.  The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

 He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

 “...And needy.” He added.

 From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch.  But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about.  Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

 “I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself.  His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

 You were pathetic.  But you didn’t care.  You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you.  And if he wanted you to beg?  To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock?  You’d do that too.

 His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning.  A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

 Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first.  So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.”  He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

 You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous.  It made you want to cry.  You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

 But it never came.  And his hand never ventured further.  Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.  Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words.  “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

 Chisaki tsked.  “You’re afraid.  Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

 His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

 Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk.  The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

 Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

 “Kai!” you protested.

 He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered.  “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

 The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before.  Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there.  But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade.  Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

 Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

 He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand.  His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

 He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow.  Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between.  And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast.  His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return.  You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft.  The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

 The temptation was too much.  He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust.  Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles.  With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting.  You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore.  You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

 It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls.  His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face.  It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic.  Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore.  But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

 Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth.  Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

 “Shut up.” He growled.

 You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him.  And it didn’t matter to you either.  You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast.  All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint.  That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

 “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

 His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

 “So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.”  His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

 You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted.  It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock.  Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls.  It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

 The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep.  But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling.  Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up.  Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

 But he never did.  Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock.  You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state.  A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

 But he never did that either.  Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance.  Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes...  His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

 Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth.  It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected.  The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

 Whatever it was, it was short-lived.  He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips.  And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow.  No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

 You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his.  But you were quickly learning you couldn’t.  His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left.  And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?  

 The sun could never be controlled.

 And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

 Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

 “Again.”

[chasingpj]

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

"You’re really sweet, water boy.”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,379

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down, one curse word

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I hope you guys like this chapter. If you have any feedback let me know. i've read this chapter over like 1,000 times while editing so i can't even give my own opinion on this chapter lol. i hope someone likes it at least cause i'm a little iffy about this one.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!”

The singing voices of the Apollo cabin harmonize as Atticus stands in the middle of their cabin, eyes closed with his arms swaying side to side in the air. You sit against the window frame at the end of the room, your lips curl in a soft smile as Harvey prances around his feet, enjoying the spotlight as much as Atticus is. You were glad that Atticus was still up for karaoke night despite his mood. Although you didn’t plan on coming yourself, you had hoped that he would as he needed it as an outlet to let loose. A part of you wasn’t surprised when Atticus was begging you to come with him, insisting that your plan of staying in and sleeping early was too lame for a Friday night at camp. You didn't want to make him upset so you decided to suck it up and go with him. Besides, you did need to get out.

The past few days, you’ve had your nose in books, drowning out your thoughts with everything from studying demonology to enjoying fantasy novels. You’ve been keeping an eye on Lou Ellen as well, noticing that she too was avoiding her feelings by drowning herself with books back to back. And now, as a result of your similar coping mechanism, you two have an exclusive book club where you spend hours reading and mercilessly criticizing Twilight. Meanwhile, Atticus has been up and around, constantly surrounding himself with people to distract him. He seemingly was doing fine on the surface, but it was a facade. Sorrow was radiating off of him like never before. Even if you didn’t have the ability to sense his emotions, his song choice for tonight was a dead giveaway. Bohemian Rhapsody is his comfort song.

“I’m just a poor boy. I need no sympathy!” Atticus sings passionately into the microphone. Cheers break throughout the cabin, and you giggle, joining in, cupping your mouth as you whoop for him. You look over at Lou Ellen, talking and laughing with a few girls across the room. You smile, content that for right now, the two of them are occupied and happy. You, however, couldn’t get into the mood. Sure, the chaos of the Apollo Cabin easily entertained you, but you were having trouble shaking off the heavy feeling in your chest. You frown, your hand coming down to pet the top of Ambrose’s head, the other nuzzling his snout against your leg to comfort you. You look down at him, smiling softly as a silent thank you, and you sigh, hoping to lighten the feeling in your chest, but to no avail, it remained.

A nudge on your shoulder draws in your attention, and you turn to face the boys standing to your left. You meet Lee Fletcher’s bright blue orbs, a smile plastered on his flushed face.

“You’re next!” He shouts over the music, pointing his index finger at you in the same hand he held a red solo cup in. You scrunch your face, moving a little closer to him and the group so they’ll be able to hear you.

“I’m not really in the performance mood tonight,” you say, and the immediate protests from the boys around him made you smile. They insisted that you had to sing tonight and that they were going to make sure you went after your brother. On any other night, you would have agreed, gladly taking the mic. You weren’t a stranger to singing karaoke, and you had to admit you did enjoy it just as much as Atticus did. Last week, you sang an interesting rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls with Lou Ellen, Silena, Katie, and Sage. You were Scary Spice, of course; you wouldn’t have been anyone else. But tonight, you were unable to see yourself singing. Now that the boys returned to whatever they were talking about, you were planning your escape. You tune back into the song, realizing that Atticus was almost finished.

“Nothing really matters; anyone can see. Nothing really matters. Nothing really matters, to mee.”

You take a deep breath for a moment, accepting your fate. It’s only one song, you tell yourself; it’ll be quick. You cringe, expecting to be pushed up to the front by the others any second now. Suddenly, chanting fills the cabin,

“Encore, encore!"

Atticus smiles, bowing like a Broadway actor as the crowd cheers. You sigh, relieved, and you hoped whatever he picked would be able to conceal your exit. There was no way Atticus was going to pass up the microphone, and over the chanting, he announced his next song choice: Dancing Queen.

He’s so depressed.

You didn’t want to miss your opportunity, slowly scooting yourself away from Lee Fletcher and the others. As the instrumental of Dancing Queen fills the cabin, a chunk of people get up from the bunk beds and the floor to dance and sing along. You take your chance now that everyone is distracted, and you walk into the crowd, carefully weaving through bodies.

The cool summer night air was refreshing on your skin compared to the stuffiness of the crowded cabin. The collective singing of Dancing Queen becomes faint as you make it across the camp. You didn't realize how loud the song was while you were in there, and you could just imagine what the other cabins were doing. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of an annoyed Ares' cabin, all of them with pillows covering their ears in an attempt to drown out the music and screaming.

By the time you reached the beginning of the woods, the disco instrumental was long gone, and you took in the stillness of the night. There was barely a breeze tonight; the only sounds were the faint chattering of campers hanging around the hearth and taking walks. You stare into the forest, uncertain if you should venture by yourself. You hear a soft whine come from Ambrose, signaling you that it was a bad idea. It was a couple of hours away from curfew, and you can already hear the faint roars of monsters. That wasn’t enough to turn you away, though. Your desire to be somewhere silent was more prominent than your fear of the monsters.

You walk in without another thought, your pace slow and slack, and Ambrose unwillingly follows close behind you, checking around to make sure you are safe. As you walk farther in the forest, the thoughts you had sent to the back of your mind were returning with a vengeance.

The departure of your siblings felt surreal. When you had woken up to their empty beds the next day, you had chosen to believe they had left for breakfast earlier than usual and that everything that happened was a dream. Yet, as the days went by, the absence of your siblings became more apparent. A part of you refused to grieve. You had wanted to declare your brothers as monsters and convince yourself that you didn’t care. You had hoped that deciding to hate them would allow you to move on, but even that came with a desolate aftertaste.

You had blacked out in your thoughts, allowing your feet to take you where they wished, and you find yourself at a familiar boulder. You look to your left at the picnic table, staring longingly at it. It was quiet for a moment before the sight of your brother and sisters sitting on the top of the picnic table, their feet resting on the bench, appeared. They sat quietly, Atticus frowning as he looked out in the forest.

“Focus on your breathing. You won’t shift if you’re impatient.” Your gaze snaps in the direction of the voice. You saw yourself slouched in defeat as Alabaster’s hands gripped your shoulders. His green eyes peered into yours.

You were the only one that hadn’t become ethereal after trying for the past 30 minutes. Atticus had transformed on his second try, Lou Ellen on her third, and the others followed close after. But you had lost count, growing more tired and discouraged after every failed attempt. Alabaster noticed you were on the verge of tears, your lip trembling, and he easily saw that you were crawling into a bad headspace.

“I can’t do it,” you sniffled, feeling embarrassed as your siblings waited for you. You were aware they weren’t judging you and had instead been encouraging you the entire time, but you still felt ashamed. The voices in your mind taunted you, making you forget any positive feedback you received that day. You were the weakest link of the group. You were never going to be powerful as your brothers, and so you’ll never be recognized by your mother, it said.

“You can, Y/n. You’re getting too in your head,” Al reassured you, his hands falling to his side, taking a step back. You were confident that he had given up on you, and you didn’t blame him. You looked down at the ground and fiddled with your fingers. It was silent for a moment before you heard him sigh.

“Try again,” he said softly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes at yourself. You were drained from trying so long, and you were ready to accept your defeat and stomp away. You looked at Alabaster again as he patiently waited for you.

You swallowed hard, and you closed your eyes as you heard the encouraging words of your siblings. Their words failed to cancel out the negative thoughts in your own head, though. You were already bothered by the little voice that said you would never transform. You dwelled on being the last one and what made you feel worse was that it was nighttime - when your magic is at its strongest - yet you still hadn’t transformed. Maybe you weren’t as powerful as your brothers gave you credit for. Disappointment swirled in your stomach, clouding your brain, and your fist clenched as you tried to shake off the thoughts in your head. You were well aware that your mindset was holding you back. You inhaled deeply, somehow finding the will to set aside your negative thoughts.

You decided you won’t allow yourself to be the only person who couldn’t transform. You weren’t going to let your insecurity of being the “weakest link” get to you, at least not on that night. You huffed out and felt a tug in your core before your fingertips and toes began to vibrate. You gasped, and your eyebrows furrowed tightly, the vibrating sensation gradually becoming more intense to the point where it almost hurt.

You heard an excited cheer come from one of your sister's lips as the feeling crept up your arms and legs. It finally met your core, and it was as if a ball of warm, electric energy sat right in the pit of your stomach. You opened your eyes, immediately seeing the bright smile on Alabaster’s face. A relieved laugh came from your lips as a few tears ran down your face from your previously pent-up anger.

“I told you.”

You snap back to reality, looking around you to see that you were still alone. No one was at the picnic table other than Ambrose, who was laid down at the foot of it, watching you cautiously. You swore you heard the sound of Al’s voice as if he was right in front of you, but that wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it to be, you knew your siblings were long gone.

Though you were incredibly grateful for Atticus and Lou Ellen deciding to stay, the dynamic that your siblings had as a whole was something that you wouldn’t be able to get back. Now it was the three of you, left to figure things out on your own. It’s not as if you three were incapable of figuring things out, but you’ll miss your brother's guidance.

You think perhaps if your mother didn’t give them the okay to leave, they would have never left. You couldn’t help but be mad at her, and lately, you’ve been a little petty towards your mom. Tonight, you had decided to go to dinner and dedicate your burned offering to Hestia instead. You’ve been praying to her every night as well, hoping that maybe she’d be able to bring your siblings back to you.

You hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary to inform you if your mother was aware of your silence or if she cared. You also found yourself wondering what she thought of you for not leaving. How could she not visit you? Were you really not worth, maybe, five minutes of her time? Did you have to prove yourself worthy? If so, how? You were yearning to know, but even for that, you were unable to find the answer.

Your jaw clenches, feeling your sorrow shifting to rage in your core. Take a deep breath, Ernest would say, and you do, filling your lungs to their capacity, and you hold it. Think of your surroundings. Meditate on the question: If I erupt, will I hurt someone? If the answer is yes, take a step back, breath in for 10 seconds, out for another 10 until you’re calm. If the answer is no… well, fuck it. Everyone needs to be angry sometimes.

Your head tilts slightly, taking in the clear night sky for a moment. From your peripheral vision, you can see your green aura wildly swirling and flickering around you. You close your eyes, and your chest expands, ready to release the air you’ve been holding. There was no rustling of the trees or grass, no monster screams, no sounds of the surrounding camper. The forest was still until it wasn’t as you let out a deafening scream.

After hearing the news of your siblings running away from camp at the counselor's meeting a few days ago, Percy had made a mental note to check up on you. In the time between his activities, he had checked the strawberry fields, the arts and craft center, even the arena in an attempt to find you. For a moment, he had thought you had left with them, but when he saw that Atticus was still at camp, he knew you had to be somewhere. It wasn’t until he passed by the Hermes dinner table the other day did he decide to ask your brother where you were. By then, you had not shown up for your meals for two days straight. Atticus told him that you weren’t doing too good, deciding to isolate yourself in the company of Lou Ellen. He had offered to let Percy come with him to drop off your dinner, but he had decided not to go.

He figured that you needed time for yourself, and he didn’t want to intrude. He was also worried if it would have been weird to check up on you. Surely, you were friends? You considered him as a friend, right? He hoped so since he had considered you one. He thought maybe he was overthinking it but then he began to worry that you would blame him. He had to do some mental gymnastics to come up with a reason why you would be mad at him, but he was able to come up with something. He would understand if you were mad at him since he is, well, suspected to be the child of the prophecy. So obviously, none of this would have happened if he wasn’t born? Right? He had told Annabeth about it, and from the way she blankly stared at him, he knew that the reason wasn’t solid, but still, he was nervous.

He was surprised to see you walk out of the Apollo Cabin. After hearing that you were hiding away, he didn’t expect you to attend one of the most lively events tonight. From afar, you seemed upset, but you also glinted with determination as you walked with purpose. He was seated with Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia by the campfire, listening to Annabeth ramble about the architecture of the Palace of Versailles to Thalia and Grover. It was her newest hyper fixation, and Percy had been listening though he got a little lost at some point. He didn’t want to lose his chance to approach you, not sure when the next opportunity would be so he quickly finished up the s’more he was eating before getting up from the bench.

“Um, I’ll be back,” he says. The only person who had heard him was Grover, who nodded to acknowledge him while Annabeth didn’t miss a beat in her ranting.

He checked in the usual places you would hang out in, but you were nowhere to be found. He found himself walking along the gravel road in front of the forest. He slows down, turning toward the trees and he hums,

“Did she go in there by herself?” He mutters softly, becoming concerned. It was kind of an unspoken rule that campers shouldn’t venture out on their own.

He looks over when he hears chattering, the wood nymphs slowly making their way out of the forest. They seemed to be gossiping about something as they huddle in a circle right outside of the trees. Percy found it strange that they were away from their homes, especially at this time, and he noticed they all looked a little stunned.

“Hey,” he smiles as he walks over to them. He halts hesitantly, the girls becoming quiet as they turn to him. “Have you guys seen, y/n?”

They exchange looks with each other, Juniper shifting on her feet as she stands in front of him. “Yeah…” she trails off, facing the dark trees. “Just keep walking. You’ll hear her.”

Percy furrows his eyebrows, unsure what they meant by that, but he takes their advice anyway. It didn’t take him long to find out what they meant, hearing your yelling before he saw you illuminating in the dark. He had imagined that you would be upset, but he definitely did not expect you to be yelling at the sky, rapidly throwing blasts of energy at a boulder.

Seeing you like this was odd. It was so different from the calm and collected demeanor that you gave off. He had considered you as the quieter twin. Compared to your brother, you weren’t as out there. He hadn’t seen you have many interactions with Atticus, but he could tell that you took on the big sister role. You just seemed more mature.

“How could you- how could you offer something like that?! I’ve never seen you once an- the first message I get from you is to join his stupid army! You took them from us!” You ignore the burning in your throat and the trembling of your arms. You felt lightheaded, and you didn’t know if it was due to how hard you were yelling or the amount of energy you were burning out. “I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” You shout weakly, looking up at the sky, hoping that your mother was listening to you. You wanted her to know how you felt betrayed, angry, and heartbroken.

Despite your anger, you still held back on what you said. You were wary not to push too far, preferring to not meet your mother's wrath the first time she visited you. You wanted an explanation; you wanted to hear the orders and the promises she made from herself. But you doubted she would appear.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, your breath ragged, and you wail, blasting the last long beam you were able to muster at the boulder. You stumble from your own force, a sob leaving your lips, and your forearm wipes your tears.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” you strain in a whisper.

You gasp as you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze in your spot, your heart beating hard in your chest. You were confident that you had summoned your mother. You took a deep breath, ready to face her, but to your surprise, you were met with Percy.

Percy's body tenses the moment you snap your gaze to him, swallowing hard as your glowing eyes bore right into his. He was hoping that his speculations of you being mad at him were wrong. The burning smell from your beams filled the air, and he definitely did not want to be charred up like that boulder. To his relief, he watches your clouded expression soften. He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you okay?” He asks, immediately cringing at himself afterward. Of course, she isn’t okay, why would you ask her that?

You sniffle, and you nod, “Yeah, I’m just doing my nightly prayers.” Though you tried to lighten up the mood, your voice was sad and hoarse.

Percy frowns, and he steps over a log in his way. He walks over to you as you plop down to sit on the grass with your legs crossed. Ambrose comes to your side, resting his head on your thigh, and you pet him softly.

“I heard what happened,” Percy’s tone is soft as he hesitantly invites himself to sit beside you. He wasn’t sure you wanted to be comforted right now, but you didn’t tell him to go away, so he took that as a good sign. He hums, looking down at his hands, “Travis reported it during the counselor meeting the day after,” he mentions. “Atticus told me you weren’t doing too well. I can’t do much, but if you want to talk about it, I’m listening.”

You didn’t want to dump everything on Percy, but the genuine concern in his tone made you feel comfortable enough to consider laying all your thoughts out on the table.

You haven't had the chance to discuss your feelings yet. There was a silent understanding between you, Atticus, and Lou Ellen that none of you were ready to bring it up and would rather go along your days pretending it didn’t happen. But as you continued to avoid it, it began to fester like an infected wound.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize for how long you were quiet. In your silence, Percy waited patiently, not wanting you to feel pressured. Every once in a while, he would look over, noticing the flickering of your aura slowing down until it’s absorbed into your body, leaving you both with the soft white light coming from Ambrose’s body. If you decided not to talk about it, he told himself he wouldn’t pry, but he would be worried about you for keeping everything in.

You didn’t know how much Travis had said at the counselors meeting. Your mind was rushing with thoughts, asking yourself where you should start while also deciding if you should be completely honest with him. It wasn’t until now that you were faced with all the conflicting feelings you’ve had in the past few days. They came at you all at once, and a sniffle cuts through your silence. You sigh shakily, resting your head on Percy’s shoulder.

Percy looks down at you, able to make out some of your features in the dark. Your eyelids were a little puffy from crying, and you look exhausted. He frowns as a small sob leaves your lips, shifting to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He debated if he should say anything to you. He didn't find that this was a situation where an “it’s okay” was appropriate. Kronos was rising, war was on its way, and Luke was recruiting campers, 5 of those campers being your siblings. None of that was okay. He felt a pang in his chest, grasping on to the fact that you’d be fighting against them when it was time for battle.

“I’m sorry,” your voice quivers. You hated feeling as if you were losing control of your emotions. You didn’t want Percy seeing you like this, and you began to feel embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry,” he shakes his head, and he opens his mouth to say something else but is too stunned when you pull away abruptly. Your gaze is fixed in the opposite direction as you try to catch your breath, hiccuping and gasping softly for a bit. “Y/n?”

“I almost left, and I feel guilty because a part of me regrets not leaving,” you blurted out the confession that was eating you up the most. It was what you were afraid to admit out loud, especially to Atticus and Lou Ellen. You didn’t want to admit that you, the one who found the courage to voice your opinion to your brothers, the one that declared she was staying at the camp, had begun to regret her decision. As much as you wished to not regret it, the what-if questions that filled your mind were hard to avoid. Were you actually missing out on the opportunity to be taught by your mother? Was it true what James said? Was deciding to stay a death wish?

You refused to look at Percy. You were wondering if he thought he was talking to a potential traitor to the camp. You were wondering if he would think of you differently now that you have confessed to having the slightest thought of joining Kronos.

Percy was lost for words, his face flashed with surprise, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t want you to think that he was judging you because he wasn’t; he was just taken aback. The tension between you started to thicken the longer he stayed quiet. His eyes scan the ground, frantically searching for something to say.

“Why did you stay?” He asks hesitantly.

Your teeth chew on the inside of your lip, and you now regret saying anything. You didn’t know if the shift in the air around the two of you was in your head, but either way, it bothered you.

“Because…” you trail off. The list of reasons why you stayed was long, and you didn’t want to go through all of them. You were determined to keep this conversation short, afraid that if you keep dwelling on this situation for too long, you will find more reasons to be angry.

“Because I’m not going to die for a cause I don’t believe in,” you declare. “I understand their side. I understand why they decided to leave. Alabaster was always saying that he wished things were different for us here at camp. I mean, so do I. They also had the approval of our mother, and they were promised to be taken care of if Kr- the Titan Lord wins. I can’t blame them for not giving that up because even I was hesitant to give it up,” you confess.

You sniffle softly, peeling the skin around your fingers before continuing, “But… for the change they're looking for, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Like really? Allying with him? Yeah, the gods are big jerks, but I don’t understand how he would be any different of a leader.” You sigh, “I considered leaving just to be with them, but I couldn’t go through with it. I wouldn’t feel right. I tried to convince them to stay, but they were set on leaving.”

Percy was quiet for a moment, and you found the courage to look up at him. His vision is fixed on the forest ahead before he meets your gaze. “I don’t think you should blame yourself for regretting not going. I think if I were in your position, I would have thought about the same things. They mean a lot to you. They’re your family.”

You nod, relieved that he understood where you were coming from. “Atticus was my last straw. If he had decided to leave, I would have left despite everything.”

“Understandable. He’s your twin,” Percy shrugs. You sigh shakily, your chest feeling a little lighter after being able to voice your thoughts. You felt more satisfied with yourself now. Your challenged morals felt solidified, and you decided with confidence that your choice was right for you.

“I give you a lot of props, Y/n. You were in a tough situation, and it must have been hard to stand your ground, especially since most of them decided to leave.”

“Yeah…” you say softly, and you realize that maybe you should have been kinder to yourself for having that feeling of regret.

“I think it’s really awesome what you did. Doing something like that takes a lot of guts,” Percy says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks…” you say shyly.

A soft smile plays on his lips, and he can tell you were starting to feel better. He was glad that he could help because he understood what you were feeling. He didn’t exactly go through the same thing, but he knew how it felt to second guess your choices and how it was easy to spiral when you dwelled on it for too long.

“You’re really sweet, waterboy. Thanks a lot," you say playfully as you return the smile. Your heart flutters as Percy’s face brightens before sheepishly looking away from you for a second.

He didn’t get compliments like that often. Well, he has, from his mom, but he didn’t count that. It wasn’t the same as getting the compliment from a girl, a girl as pretty as you are.

“I-it was nothing,” he moves his hand in a dismissive wave, and you giggle. “Well… I don’t know if you were done with your ‘prayer,’ but I think you should go back to the party in the Apollo Cabin. I’ll come with you. It sounded like a lot of fun in there."

"Ugh, but they’re going to make me sing,” you slouch, and Percy laughs at the slight pout on your face.

“I’ll sing with you,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows, surprised at his offer. You’ve only seen him at karaoke a few times, and he always stayed on the sidelines.

“You can sing?” You ask, amused. Percy definitely didn’t seem like the musical type.

“Nope, I’m pretty much tone-deaf, but I’ll embarrass myself for you since you had a rough day," he nudges you softly before standing up. You look up at him as he pats down his pants, and you lean back on your hands.

“I’m gonna pick a ballad so you can embarrass yourself even more," you smirk at him, and he stops patting his clothes, squinting at you.

“Don’t make me take it all back,” he jokes. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grab it, letting him help you up from the ground.

“You know, I’d kill to hear you sing a Britney Spears song," you mention as you pat your own clothes down and begin to walk out of the forest, Ambrose acting as your guide by trotting ahead of you.

Percy is quiet for a moment, and you glance over, positive that he's starting to regret his offer to sing with you.

"Please don’t do that to me.”

You laugh at him; the thought of Percy singing a Britney Spears song was way too funny to you. Percy gave you a cautious look, not sure if you were serious or not. “Fine, fine! I shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness,” you admit as your laugh ceases. Percy nods, playfully agreeing with you. “You listen to My Chemical Romance?” You ask, and he scoffs,

“Of course, I listen to My Chemical Romance.”

“Let’s sing Teenagers then,” you suggest. “It’s a crowd favorite. Everyone sings along, so no one has to suffer through your singing. What do you think?” you tease, and you take in his bright smile as he nods his head,

“Sounds good to me.”

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr

[october-lady]

I’ll make you beg for it, chapter 16

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Chapter rating: E

Word Count: 4480

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15

Read on AO3

Natasha woke up snuggling to Wanda. Her arm was loosely placed over the brunette’s stomach as if to stop her from leaving. She didn’t move it, trying to enjoy the closeness. She opened her eyes to look at the other woman. Wanda was still asleep, facing away from the redhead. Her hair was spread around her messily, last night’s make up smeared, her eyeliner smudged in funny shapes.

Natasha smiled at the view. This was entirely foreign to her. Not the waking up next to a sleeping person part but the part where it felt natural, good and she wanted it to last. Lost in her thoughts, she started drawing little circles on Wanda’s stomach where her hand was placed.

Wanda’s skin felt hot underneath her touch but so smooth and so familiar. She was definitely getting used to it and it scared her to death. Some things were ingrained in her skin back from the Red Room days and despite it being over a decade, it was hard to override them, especially since this was so new to her. 

Natasha has always been taught that being close to someone, wanting their presence and longing for affection was a weakness. Weakness that could get you tortured or killed.

But no one taught her that it could also feel good. It could feel safe. She found herself wanting more and wanting it constantly and as much as it scared her, she has been unable to to turn away from that.

Wanda was showing her a whole new world that’s never even considered could be for her and she was enjoying it.

Wanda stirred under her touch and tossed around. Natasha smiled and withdrew her hand, not wanting to disturb her sleep.

Instead she sneaked out of bed carefully and went in the bathroom, grabbing a glass from her nightstand. She filled it with water from the sink and drank it eagerly, the thirst from all the drinks last night finally getting to her.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she was leaning against the sink. Her own hair was messily falling around her face in big waves, her eyes covered in subtle eyeshadow and mascara. Unlike Wanda, she wasn’t wearing a bra because it didn’t fit under her dress.

Natasha stood there looking at herself naked, kind of in disbelief that she has been repeatedly refusing to sleep with Wanda. 

Sex has always been an instrument to her, a tool to get what she wanted as a spy, a way to get her subjects, men or women, to submit to her and reveal their secrets. It was something that if she wanted, she never had a problem getting, from strangers or friends with benefits. It was always messy and served one purpose. To get her off.

But with Wanda… Yes, that’s how they started, it was wild and needy. Messy too but only because feelings somehow got into the mix. 

She stepped into the shower and let the cold water run over her skin.

She wanted nothing more than to touch Wanda’s skin, to kiss her, to let her hands run freely over her body, squeezing her boobs and running her fingers through her dripping folds.

For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to make love to her. She wanted to be the one doing the loving, worshipping Wanda’s body and caressing it but she’s had little to no experience doing so, let alone being the one initiating such an act.

It scared her endlessly wanting to do this, wanting to have sex with someone because she had feelings for them.

At the same time though she was enjoying the build up, the tension between them, the need, the want and desire and she didn’t want it to end.

She shook her head to get rid of all those thoughts and to get rid of some of the water dripping from her hair.

There was no need for all this overthinking. She should just enjoy whatever relationship it was that they were building.

She dried herself off and stepped back into the bedroom, leaving all her worries in the bathroom, at least for the time being.

Natasha tried to go through her drawers quietly, looking for a sports bra and some leggings but accidentally slammed it.

“Where are you going,” Wanda murmured, throwing her arm in the empty space on the bed.

“The gym. It’s the best cure for any hangover.” She chuckled and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty. Headache.” Wanda groaned, brushing her hair off her face.

“Shocking,” the redhead laughed and went to fill up the glass again, bringing two painkillers with her. “Here. Take these and drink the water.” 

Wanda sat up to do as she was told, swallowing the pills and quickly drinking the water.

“Did I try to convince you to have sex last night?”

“Yes, you did,” Natasha laughed.

“Ugh, don’t know what I was thinking.” She handed the redhead the empty glass and slid back down into the pillows. “Gym sounds crazy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, little witch. I will be back soon. Get some more sleep, you’ll feel better.” Natasha smiled and kissed her head before she left the room.

Her stomach tingled with both fear and enjoyment from domesticity. 

She made a quick stop in the kitchen to grab an apple for herself and orange juice and some fruit for Wanda, dropping it off before she finally headed for the gym.

Working out was one of her favourite things to do. It always helped her clear her head and gave her something to focus on. And it really was a great way to get over any tiredness from the previous night.

She did her usual warm up stretching, some running and boxing until she was drenched in sweat. Maybe she should have waited with the shower for after her workout. 

Natasha sat down on the bench and picked up her phone. She wanted to cool down a bit and catch her breath before taking a second shower of the day.

There was a new message from Clint. She rolled her eyes because what did he want on a morning after a party.

“Have you seen this?” Was all the message said. There was a screenshot attached, it looked like it was from a news site.

‘Black Widow Spy found a new prey for her web’

Natasha froze. Underneath the headline was a blurry photo from last night, clearly snapped on someone’s phone from across the room. It was her and Wanda standing very close, her hand on Wanda’s hip as she was whispering something into her ear.

It was about her. Her and Wanda.

She quickly skimmed the few lines that were included in the screenshot.

‘Has the Black Widow, a former Russian spy and assassin, also known as Natasha Romanoff, found a new victim for her games? Romanoff is known to have bedded her targets with the sole purpose of getting information from them, leaving them longing for her after she kicked them away when they had no more use. She has also been called a Femme fatal, seducing unsuspecting strangers for her own pleasure.

Last night she was seen flirting with a fellow Avenger, Wanda Maximoff. According to our source, the two of them looked close and kept touching and kissing a lot. Is Maximoff another one of Romanoff’s victims, and is she going to be thrown away like a broken toy once the former spy is done with her?’

Natasha took a slow, deep breath.

What the hell did she just read? She felt anger bubbling in her chest. She was pretty much used to people snapping pictures of her and saying lies but this was different. This involved other people, a person she genuinely cared about and a person who had no experience with lying tabloids. What if Wanda believed it?

She opened the browser on her phone and searched her name. More articles about last night popped up, all sharing the same two photos and saying pretty much the same thing. 

That she is going to play with Wanda, get what she wants from her and then kick her to the side, leaving the powerful witch with hurt feelings and what is that going to mean for the rest of the world?

Natasha’s breathing quickened. This can’t be happening. She finally had something worth working on, something she treasured, a relationship that she was willing to nurture and grow, something that gave her a reason to work on herself and then these lies appeared.

She stood up, letting her phone fall on the floor. She ran her hand through her hair, looking around desperately. 

What was she going to do? No doubt Wanda would see this, if not now, someone will show it to her sooner or later. And she will believe it because why wouldn’t she. With Natasha’s history and a constant refusal to have sex, there is no reason why the witch shouldn’t believe that she doesn’t keep her around just as an eye candy, a toy to mess around with, to mess with her head.

Natasha ran to the boxing bag and punched it with a scream. And then again and again, letting all her frustration out. She didn’t stop until her fingers were hurting and started to swell. She sat down right where she was and shook her head looking at her fingers.

What was she doing? Wanda is a smart woman, surely she won’t be influenced by some silly articles, will she?

Natasha’s fingers were starting to bruise. They’ll be a nice shade of purple tomorrow and everyone is going to ask what happened. And why on earth did she not wear gloves?!

Surely she was being ridiculous. She knew she was. But at the same time, somewhere deep down there was a seed of doubt. 

Because what if…

She went to the bathroom and let the cold water run over her fingers for as long as she could stand. She then took another shower to quickly get rid of the sweat, putting fresh clothes on that she always kept there just in case.

Hopefully Wanda would have got up by now and gone to her room. Natasha just needed a bit more time to sort out her thoughts.

She grabbed a gel pack that was kept in the gym for their injuries and headed back to her room. She opened the door slowly, not sure if she wanted Wanda there or gone, and what if she was asleep.

“Oh, you’re still here,” she said when she saw the brunette sat on her bed, her hair wet from a shower, the orange juice now empty.

“I have nothing else to do,” Wanda shrugged and grinned. 

Natasha didn’t say anything. Wanda’s eyes fell to the icepack on the redhead’s hand and she frowned.

“Natasha, what the hell happened?” She switched off the TV she was watching and jumped off the bed.

“Nothing,” Natasha avoided her eyes as she pointlessly tried to cover her fingers with the gel pack. She just needed to get in the bathroom and find the first aid kit.

“Interesting,” Wanda rolled her eyes and caught her arm, stopping her from walking any further. Natasha didn’t try to get away or look at her, instead she decided to inspect the carpet.

“Hey, what happened?” Wanda tried again, softer this time. She used her free hand to grip Natasha’s chin and make her face her.

When their eyes met, Wanda could see pain. Not from her injured fingers. She knew better than to think Natasha would let that affect her. No. It was deeper.

Natasha was unable to look away. She could see the concern in Wanda’s eyes and felt guilty for making the brunette worry.

“Come sit down,” Wanda gave her a reassuring smile and led her to the bed. When they sat down, the brunette took the ice pack off, revealing the bruising fingers. “That looks painful. Let me clean it up,” she said and rushed to the bathroom.

When she came back, she was holding a disinfectant and cotton pads. 

“You should get a new one, there is hardly anything left. Or stop getting hurt,” Wanda joked as she swirled the bottle around.

Natasha let out a chuckle.

“You’re so silly, what did you do?” Wanda was shaking her head as she cleaned the tiny cuts. They probably didn’t even need cleaning but she wanted to do something, she wanted to help and she wanted to show that she cared.

Natasha didn’t reply, she just shrugged.

“You don’t have to tell me. But am I right to assume you got angry?” Wanda questioned.

“What makes you say that?” Natasha arched her eyebrow, wanting to deny it but didn’t find any strength to do so.

Wanda sighed before she put everything down and gently took Natasha’s hands into hers.

“You have amazing friends. Friends that worry about you…”

Natasha gave her a puzzled look. What does that have to do with anything?

“Clint was worried…” she finally said.

“What?” The redhead snapped.

“You didn’t reply to his message. He tried to call you. Several times. So he called me.” Wanda continued with a sigh.

Natasha debated whether or not she should play confused. There was still a chance Clint didn’t tell Wanda about those articles and they wouldn’t have to get into it now.

“I know about the articles.” Wanda finally said.

“Oh,” Natasha looked away and pulled her hands from Wanda’s.

“You… don’t think I believe that, do you?” Wanda asked, surprise audible in her voice.

“Why wouldn’t you,” Natasha shrugged. She got off the bed and walked over to the window, suddenly interested in the trees outside. “All the other stuff is true. I did use people for sex. I did use sex to get information from people. Maybe you are just another one in the line.”

“That is the silliest thing you’ve said,” Wanda laughed. She walked over to the other woman and stood next to her. “Just the fact that it upset you so much shows that you care. You constantly show me that I’m important, you try to help me with my issues, getting me leaflets and therapist names. Despite our bumpy start, you have been a good friend to me. You wouldn’t do that if I were just another number or a name on the list.”

Natasha didn’t say anything for a while. She kept looking in front of herself, not trusting her voice. She could feel her eyes getting a bit wet at Wanda’s words and her chest felt tight. 

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” she finally spoke, her voice quiet.

“You won’t. I trust you,” Wanda smiled and wrapped her arm around the redhead, resting her head on her shoulder.

“How do you know?” It almost came out as a sob.

“Because we both care.”

“I’m just so scared, this goes against everything I’ve ever been taught.” Natasha whispered as she closed her eyes. Showing her emotions wasn’t something she did easily. She felt embarrassed, both of her behaviour earlier that day and of showing her emotions.

“I know. But you’re not alone, we can work on it together, okay?” Natasha could hear the smile and reassurance in Wanda’s voice. She nodded and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t believe those articles for one second,” Wanda whispered as she stepped in front of the redhead and pressed her lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

Natasha drank in the kiss hungrily. She felt overwhelmed with emotions and she didn’t know how to control it.

This is what she wanted. This woman. Her kisses. Her touches.

She wrapped her arm around Wanda’s waist and pulled her as close as she could, her other hand cupping the brunette’s face and holding her in place as she kissed her eagerly. 

Natasha’s thumb was gently stroking Wanda’s cheek as she gently kissed Wanda, deepening the kiss ever so slightly as if to push how she felt into the other woman.

Wanda’s arms were wrapped around the smaller woman, trying to keep her close, get her even closer.

The redhead carefully manoeuvred Wanda backwards to the bed until her legs hit the edge, nudging her over.

The kiss broke but their eyes were locked on each other as Wanda pulled herself up the bed to prop herself on the pillows. Her lips were slightly open and her chest was rising in short breaths. 

Natasha followed her, looking deep into her eyes and giving her a smile before she connected their lips again. 

The kiss was slightly more urgent this time, faster, more pressing yet still gentle and soft. Natasha’s hand found her place on Wanda’s cheek again,holding her in place and stroking it with her fingers as if it was the first time she’s ever touched it.

Wanda’s hands were slowly running up and down the redheads back and altering with pulling her closer.

After what felt like forever, Natasha finally let go of Wanda’s cheek and let her fingers slide down her neck, gently brushing the skin down over her chest, slowing down when she felt the brunette arch into the feather like touch until she reached the tie on Wanda’s robe and pulled it open, immediately running her hand over the exposed skin.

Wanda’s breath hitched under the touch, her body melting into it, wanting more. But her hands found Natasha’s face and she broke the kiss, pulling the other woman away.

“Are you sure?” She whispered, her words breathy.

“Yes,” Natasha smiled softly, touched by the need for reassurance that this is really the right time.

Wanda smiled back and pulled her down again, letting loose kissing her hungrily, finally letting the longing, the need run free. Her hand found her way down Natasha’s body and stopped on her hip, pushing in an attempt to flip them over.

Natasha grabbed her wrist to stop her, breaking the kiss at the same time as she rested her forehead on Wanda’s.

“I want this to be different. I don’t want to fuck you,” she breathed out, her eyes closed as shyness took over, unable to speak the words ‘make love’.

Wanda smiled and let go of her body, letting her arms fall along her.

“Show me,” she challenged her.

And so Natasha did. She urged Wanda to take off the robe, leaving her spread on the bed just in her red lacy underwear.

“You’re so beautiful,” Natasha said softly as she traced circles all over Wanda’s body, admiring her. Wanda’s hair was spread on the pillow, her lips were slightly open in a smile, her eyes were desperate for more as she lay there patiently, one leg slightly bent in the knee.

Natasha’s fingers brushed over her boobs, her nipples immediately waking up at the touch.

“Your skin is so soft,” her eyes were running all over Wanda’s body just like her hand was, drinking in the view and trying to remember how her hot skin felt under her touch, how Wanda arched into it, desperate for more. Her fingers were replaced by her whole hand, gently squeezing the milky white boob, resulting in Wanda letting out a sound of approval, her eyes closed.

Natasha smiled at the reaction, switching to the other side and rubbing the quickly growing nipple, watching Wanda’s chest rise and fall in quick shallow breaths.

She let her fingers run down again, stopping at the lace, running her fingertips along the hem, making Wanda buckle her hips as she spread her legs slightly, wanting more.

But she was patient, letting Natasha explore her body. A sound of surprise escaped her lips when she felt the redhead’s naked body against hers, not being aware that she had lost her clothes.

Wanda quickly reached for face, pulling it down for a desperate kiss, needing something to hold onto, something to fuel her desire into as she tangled her fingers in red hair, tugging ever so slightly while also pushing her down.

Natasha moaned into the kiss, slowly losing her patience, longing for more of Wanda’s skin. She let her hand run loose while being propped on her other elbow, reaching the red lace again but this time she didn’t stop. She let her fingers fall down between Wanda’s legs, being pulled to the heat that was radiating from her. She gently touched her covered folds and moaned, “You’re so wet,” whispering into the kiss.

Wanda didn’t say anything, instead, she bit down on Natasha’s lip, desperately trying not to just push the redhead’s fingers inside of her.

When Natasha did it again, Wanda’s whole body arched into the touch, breaking the kiss.

“Nat, please…” she begged, her body feeling like it was about to combust, almost shaking.

Natasha smiled at the ‘please’ but obliged, sliding her hand inside of the underwear and running her fingers through her folds.

“Oh fuck, you’re so wet,” Natasha groaned when she got soaked immediately. 

“I need-” Wanda shivered at the touch, her hips rising from the bed. She was erratic, her eyes were close and her hands were gripping the sheets.

“Okay, baby,” Natasha whispered, resting her forehead on Wanda’s, their noses touching, their hot breaths mixing in the middle. 

She slowly pushed two fingers inside and Wanda’s moans were music to her ears. She quickly picked up the pace, trying to match the brunette’s desperate moves as she was getting louder.

Natasha’s fingers slipped out but she quickly found her clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Come on, baby, come for me,” Natasha whispered, her own breath hitching in her chest, well aware that she herself was very close and dripping.

And so Wanda finally came. She was loud, losing control and not caring, moans turning into screams as the final stroke pushed her over the edge. Natasha looked for sloppy kisses as she tried to quiet her, her other hand gently stroking her sweaty hair.

She slowed down and softened the touch but when Wanda didn’t stop her, she found her way in again, quickly pushing in and out. She could hear the seams on the underwear giving up but she didn’t care. She would buy Wanda a new pair.

Wanda was close again, clenching around her fingers, her breaths so short and shallow she was getting barely any air in.

And then Natasha used her thumb to press on her clit and Wanda was tumbling over the edge again, even louder than before, one of her fists clenching around the crumpled bed sheet, her other hand digging into Natasha’s side.

It was a long orgasm. Wanda’s head was spinning as she was trying to catch her breath but she smiled weakly when she felt Natasha lay down next to her, her fingers still inside of her.

The redhead was slowly stroking her folds, letting her ride out the last bit of her high. When Wanda’s breath evened out a bit, she slowly pulled her fingers out, making the brunette his, immediately missing her.

The redhead wrapped her arm around Wanda’s hot stomach and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.

“I just- need a minute,” Wanda breathed out, unable to move.

“It’s okay, little witch, take your time,” Natasha smiled into her skin.

It took several minutes for Wanda to recover. When her head finally stopped spinning, she got on top of the redhead.

“My turn,” she grinned.

 She started with placing a soft kiss on Natasha’s lips but quickly moved away, kissing her cheek and stopping on her neck.

Natasha turned her head to give her more access, desperate for more kisses and gentle bites. She rested her hands on Wanda’s hips, tugging her thumbs in the ruined underwear.

The brunette placed her hand on Natasha’s boob, massaging it gently and occasionally playing with her nipple, tugging at softly as she kept placing kisses on her neck, alternating with bites and sucking, making Natasha’s moan.

She could feel the redhead’s nails in her skin, screaming with desperation but patiently waiting for Wanda to lead the way.

The brunette moved on from her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down her chest as she stopped on her boob, taking the nipple into her mouth and grazing it with her teeth. She then used her tongue to flick it around as if it were a clit, playing with it, all while using her hand to give attention to Natasha’s other boob.

Natasha was arching her back into the touch, her moans getting more freakvent and louder as her legs opened slightly, her his bucking up involuntarily.

Wanda smiled at the eagerness and decided that that was enough teasing, placing a few quick kisses down her stomach until she reached her underwear. She quickly pushed it off, watching the wetness pull away as she tossed the soaked fabric on the floor.

Natasha’s folds were glistening, begging to be touched. Wanda bent down and placed a soft kiss just above her clit, making Natasha thrust her hips into her face.

“Wanda…” She wasn’t entirely sure if it was a warning or if she was begging. Wanda smiled and quickly used her fingers to spread her, revealing the throbbing clit. She didn’t wait any longer and attached her lips to it, sucking gently and licking through her folds, gathering all the juices. When Wanda’s tongue touched Natasha’s entrance, she groaned as she arched her back and blindly grabbed her wrist.

“I want you up here,” she managed to get out. She wanted to see Wanda, she wanted to feel her body.

Wanda didn’t argue, quickly making her way up to her and resting on her side, just like the redhead did before.

Without any warning, she pushed two fingers inside and Natasha’s back arched, letting out something between a moan and a groan. Her eyes opened wide as she locked them on Wanda’s, cupping her face with her hand as Wanda kept pushing into her.

Wanda pushed deeper and faster and could feel Natasha’s walls closing around her fingers. Natasha screamed but desperately tried to keep her eyes open, that added connection making her orgasm even stronger.

She could feel it in the tips of her fingers, her lips were tingling, she felt so dizzy that she thought she might pass out. But she kept her eyes on Wanda’s the whole time and when it was over, she pulled her down for a kiss and then pressed their foreheads together, letting the emotions out without any words.

Wanda smiled as she carelessly pulled the blanket over them and lay down next to Natasha, pulling her close in a hug.

“That was worth the wait,” she whispered into red curls.

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, unable to keep her eyes open.

Chapter 17

-----

Taglist: @raqelacevedo @tati3001 @theblackdalialived

Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be on the tag list for this fic or all of my WandaNat fics.

My wife and I are getting the keys to our new house next week and then we're going to have to do some adjustments and move so not sure how much time I will have to write. We're also going to a comic con this weekend (I'm cosplaying as MoM Wanda and comic book Yelena) and I'm working nights next week so not too much time on my hands. I still want to post once a week though so the chapters are going to be shorter.

Thank you everyone for reading and commenting, it means a lot! <3

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[vivi-the-goblin]

Pichu are electric rodent, though being bright yellow and born the size of a fully grown rat betrays thier unusual nature. A Pichu constantly emits a small static field as a means of protection, giving a warning to any who touch it. It releases some of this in a concentrated jolt to explore its environment. Curiously, a pichu may end up stuck in this juvenile state and reach maturity as a somewhat larger version of itself. Without the body heat and electromagnetic field from a mother or large companion to stabilize them as they sleep, a pichu will continue to grow in size and and mature in intelligence without actually developing physically. Such specimens will eventually learn to somewhat control thier power, but never develop. This is rare however, as wild pichu typically live in famliy nests of around a dozen. These nests form loose clusters, making colonies that are can contain over 100 members. These will primarily be young pichu, with a quarter or less being older forms, and a pichu will quickly seek the shelter of another nest if needed. In a colony, a Pichu will typically develop within 4-6 months to a larger stage known as Pikachu. They are numerous, quickly reproducing, extremely adaptable, highly social, more clever and long lived than expected for rodents but still relatively short lived in comparison to thier observers. This of course led many elves and dwarves to compare them to humans. Humans tend to react to this the way they always do to mockery- embrace it, turn it into a flag, and beat the offender with the flagpole. Pikachu have become a flagship of sorts to many humans, and in cities they thrive in they are often a staple companion and nuisance, taking a similar place to the housecat. That being said, Pikachu will happily bond with near any species, intelligent or otherwise. Normally a Pikachu's innate magic will allow it to bond with its nestmates to summon storms, but a pikachu without a standard colony will start to morph thier magic appropriately. In rarer cases the pikachu won't even need a bond, instead simply reworking its own magic out of a desire to fly, swim, fight, or even just be smarter. Extremely rare cases have shown pikachu even manifesting powers unique to specific species, mastering techniques unique to organizations, or even copying specific people's special techniques, just with a costume and thier bizarre magical bonding. Pikachu find storing too much energy to be uncomfortable and regularly seek to discharge. One who has stored up 100 million volts, or more commonly is exposed to that much via lightning, will undergo a rapid transformation. Those that are bonded to a companion who wishes for it to stay the same will simply swell in size, becoming a high powered Partner Pikachu. Most will develop into Raichu. This rotund orange mouse is the size of a gnome and can fry an ogre in seconds. Not much is known of it as it is rarely seen. Even without the rare circumstances of its creation, the extra energy stresses the creature and causes it to become aggressive. Even long time companions have to be wary when it is agitated. This often leads to its demise, picking a fight with a creature or village it can't beat. Rarer still is when a coastal pikachu, typically a surfing one, is subjected to the same event. The latent power that allowed it to glide across the water develops instead of the raw electrical output, causing it to gain psychic abilities. While less offensively capable than its traditional counterpart and occurring less commonly, the "Alolan" Raichu is much more often seen due to its lowered aggression making it welcome in towns and increased mobility keeping it out of trouble. In fact, its known sweet tooth can make it a somewhat common sight around inhabited shorelines. Editors note- Thankfully got this out on time, trying to make all that quick burned me out for a little and I had to eat through my backlog. There are dozens and dozens more variants but I had to draw the line somewhere. And yes, I did purposely make Raichu's thunder average at slightly less than

an elephant's HP because the dex mentioned it could knock out an Indian elephant, which is slightly smaller than the Grey elephant I assume is being used in the MM.

[orionshounds]

I’ve been knee deep in dsmp lore streams and I just want to ramble about it

Dream smp lore is so good, it’s so good!!! Not only is the story itself just fascinating, but how it’s presented so uniquely through the medium of minecraft of all things is just so cool. One of my favorite parts of the lore is seeing how everyone on the smp has their own “style” they present it in, and watching them find the way they find the most enjoyment in is so cool. Literally no two streamer’s lore stream quite like each others and it’s just incredible! It just speaks to the flexibility of roleplay as an artistic medium and really shows everyone’s individual personalities. 

Wilbur was dramatic as hell and wrote eloquent speeches. He started a drug operation under the guise as a country, and it lead to a revolution in which he was able to explore the spiral of a man who loses control of everything he had built. And after his arc and he wanted a break from the server? He created ghostbur, an amnesic comic relief with just enough touch of tragedy that he is still able to make heartbreaking monologues when he wants to.

Tommy is able to run around with his friends and cause as much chaos to his heart’s extent, but there is so much more than meets the eye. He is incredibly social and isn’t afraid to start conflict with a lot of people, bringing them into the roleplay. He doesn’t back down from storytelling either. His character goes through terrible situations and he fully explores the trauma that comes from those experiences. His character goes against the “stereotypical” trauma I see alot in media; instead of being shy or scared he’s reactionary, he’s angry, he’s violent, he’s depressed. I’m actually really impressed with the heavy subject matter this 17 year old teen has managed to portray (I’ve connected with it quite personally at certain points), while still being able to keep the light hearted fun that’s so intrinsic to his personality. 

Tubbo isn’t really interested in serious lore as much. Even in dire moments he tells jokes and just has fun. So, in his recent lore, he just streams as normal while putting mysterious writing on screen that he doesn’t acknowledge or have to explain, which I think is just a genius work around for him to participate in lore. He still has his dedicated lore streams sometimes, and when he is in the acting zone he has some of the most powerful moments out of everyone on the server.

Ranboo, while having stake in the greater smp lore, is much more character focused. He presents his lore through long monologues and fucking heart-wrenching voice acting. He loves working in themes of horror and causing a specific feeling in the viewer. So he chooses specific music as a themes for events/characters and creates visual queues in his overlays to draw out that desired reaction. He also values improve a LOT, if something unexpected comes up he just runs with it and he has made huge changes to his lore as early as 30 min before a stream.

Technoblade, while arguably one of the most powerful people on the server, prefers a more light-hearted yet dramatic approach to lore. When Dream was at his house looking for Tommy, Techno had no problem joking around and making fun of him for being homeless. He tore down an entire nation on the server and had so much fun doing it! He’s more of an antagonist than a true villain in my opinion. And lets not forget how dedicated he is to the game, he’s cracked at the craft. He spends hours grinding and creating farms on the smp, for amazing pay offs (his several vault reveals, the withers, etc), most of which weren’t even on stream!

Karl Jacobs is extremely social, so he created Tales from the smp as a way to involve TONS of people in lore while exploring the past and future of the server (it was also a way for viewers who weren’t that well versed in dsmp lore to join and not have to worry about it!). And through this premise, he took the opportunity to develop his own character on the smp; making an incredibly tragic story of a time traveler trying to save his home while slowly loosing his memories. Not to mention the beautifully shot cutscenes of the Inbetween and the Other Side. He includes so many people behind the scenes as well, collabing with other members on lore, hiring building teams and people to make intros and credit scenes, and promoting fanart and fansongs from the community!

Quackity explores his lore through heavily scripted events and amazingly shot cut scenes. While the way he expresses his lore comes at the cost of improv, the payoff of the visuals and story is well worth it! The shots he makes of the smp is downright gorgeous, no to mention he’s the first person to include irl footage in his lore (not counting facecams)! He’s not afraid of thoroughly examining his own character, being one of the only people I can think of that shows us “past events” leading up to something that has already happened.

Badboyhalo, Antfrost, Ponk, Skeppy, Captain Puffy, Punz, Awesamdude, Hannahxxrose all work together on shared lore and the payoff is amazing! By introducing the Egg, a constant antagonistic force that constantly pulls on character’s relationships with each other, everyone is able to stream together to battle for or against the egg! There’s also plenty of room for people to do individual lore that's more intimate to their respective character. They spend hours changing vines, putting up posters, slowly shaping the smp in a way that makes it exciting to watch streams to see just what has changed everyday. Because there’s so many people necessary to tell the egg’s story, it does comes at the cost of time (the egg has been around FOREVER). However, they all work together super hard and I just admire their commitment to the story they’re trying to tell!

And Sam! He has several different “Modes” his character is in (and an entirely separate character, Sam Nook) that he gets to explore lore with. He’s a terrifying warden, he’s a money motivated businessman, he’s a conflicted lover, he’s a traumatized victim of the egg, and just so much more. Through having so many different “roles” in the rp he gets to explore relationships and plotlines with a whole array of people. Not to mention he’s absolutely cracked at redstone and has some of the most impressive builds on the server.

And Puffy! So much of her lore is calling into question the morality of the server and really makes you step back and think critically about the characters. Her character also has, in my opinion, one of the most interesting relationships with Dream, the main antagonist of the entire server, which is just fascinating to watch unfold. Not to mention she’s one of the first people to start exploring the backstory of her character!

George doesn’t exactly do lore. In fact he’s slept through so much of it it’s become a meme. And you know what? That mad man took that and ran with it. He explains his absence in the story by having his character literally being asleep through it, creating mystery where there used to just be an absence. He’s able to goof off with his friends and have borderline nonsensical streams, then at the end sucker punch the audience emotionally by “waking up” and have the viewers question just what was real and what wasn’t?

The smp has the freedom for people who want more independent lore to be able to explore their character’s that way as well!

Hbomb, Connereatspants, and Purpled don’t have a lot of lore on the smp, generally only coming on to have fun with everyone, but when they do have their moments it unfolds in very interesting ways!

Sapnap, Eret, and Schlatt maybe aren’t as active as some other people, but when they are on they actively participate in lore and have lasting impacts on the story (Ex: Eret’s betrayal, Sapnap’s visit to dream in the prison, Schlatt becoming president).

Philza mostly does his own thing, improving the server or making some bomb ass builds. He has incredibly devastating roles in lore (killing wilbur, blowing up L’manberg for the final time, starting the syndicate with Techno), but he also has quieter moments that speak to the depth his character has, such as fishing with fundy or reminiscing about his dead son and how it went so wrong. Like Techno, he doesn’t like to take lore completely seriously, often laughing no matter what’s happening or teasing chat after something big goes down, but his character is solid with a lot of potential for future lore.

Foolish has only started on his character and its already super interesting. The hints at his dark past as a “god of death” and his current conflict with the egg are intriguing as fuck. Not to mention the MASSIVE builds he does for everyone, helping to progress their lore as well.

Fundy has a lot of freedom with his character to participate however much he wants in lore. While generally he’s a trickster who loves to prank people he has enough tragedy build into his backstory he’s able to break the viewer’s heart with a flip of a switch. Not to mention his recent, almost surreal, stream that explored his character’s disturbing dreams that may or may not predict the future.

Niki is very character driven, exploring her character's grief of losing her best friend and her anger of being ignored in the very country she helped create. She has incredibly emotional moments, and even though she’s on her own building an underground city she still participates in other lore via teaming with jack manifold or the syndicate.

Jack Manifold’s lore is VERY character focused, and while he’s described his story as a “B plot that occasionally intersects with the main plot”, the story he tells is still fascinating. Being pushed aside not taken seriously his whole life, his character develops into a fun cartoony-esque villain who begs to be taken seriously, that has the depth of a truly conflicted person who is torn between wanting revenge on everyone who’s done him wrong and just wanting a friend.

Last but not least, the man himself, Dream. The most fascinating thing about his lore is that absolutely none of it is from his pov. All we know about his character is only from what we see from everyone else’s povs, and in his case it leads to a very intimidating villain! Not to mention, mans owns the damn server and yet has made himself the main antagonist! He is the only character I consider a “true villain” on the smp. His voice acting and writing is downright sinister. I could write a fucking essay on how his character’s obsession with power has led him to the point he thinks himself an unstoppable god

Everyone on this server is stunning and I love all of them!!!!!

[itsclydebitches]

I was reading through the notes on the Theodore post (some of the responses are just down right mean to you and I'm sorry you have to deal with that) but it seems to me like an issue the rwby fandom has is dealing with structural critiques (like character introductions relative to story arcs) and respond with in-universe reasoning. These are two seperate frameworks that get confused too easily. Thing X didn't happen because it the story has rule Y, but why did the authors make rule Y?

Thanks, anon 💜

The sad thing is that these comments are downright tame compared to what some fans will put on your posts and in your inbox. In the past month I’ve seen two people express a desire to post their own critical takes about RWBY, but are wary to do so because they know it will draw far worse than this. I read through Number1yangster’s response and they rely entirely on insults there, not evidence to back up their reading of the story. The “argument” here is that I’m stupid and incapable of thinking or reading because that would “cut into the time [I] spend complaining.” Most people don’t want to put up with that kind of nonsense, not just because it’s obviously unpleasant to read, but because it circumvents the entire purpose of posting metas in the first place. Outside of just venting for that emotional release, fans share takes about a show in the hope of finding like-minded individuals and engaging with different perspectives. As RWDE posters constantly emphasize, we are looking for evidence to support more positive readings of the show because we want the show to be good. If you can point us towards moments where the show establishes other dust companies so we don’t have to assume that Team RWBYJNOR decimated the dust trade by destroying the SDC (another debate recently), or if you can point us towards moments where Theodore was established as a trusted ally so that we don’t have to assume that Ruby foolishly put all of Remnant in the hands of a potentially dangerous stranger… then please do! I often forget things, misunderstand things, or am simply persuaded by another reading, but that’s contingent upon others being able to point out my mistake, or persuade me towards their interpretation. But fans like Canonseeker and Number1yangster aren’t interested in having a conversation. It was never about discussing RWBY, or being able to back up their stance because they can’t back up their stance. Not without ignoring basic counters or relying primarily on their own headcanons. That’s why whenever someone says, “Please show me where this happened in the story” or point out, “You’ve entirely ignored the evidence I laid out. Why won’t you acknowledge this?” they turn straight to insults instead. They’ve got nothing else and that sucks for the fans who wanted an engaging discussion or, baring that, just want their posts left alone if others aren’t willing to approach them respectfully.

Anyway, you’ve hit the nail on the head there, anon. If I could get the entire RWBY fandom to understand anything—really understand it—it’s that this is a fictional world where the writers have complete control over everything that happens in it. There is not a single thing in RWBY that acts as a true barrier to the writers, especially as a webseries unencumbered by the restrictions of a network and as a show already notorious for playing fast and loose with its rules. Any problem with the story is something that come about because of a choice the writers made and the underlying criticism of all this is, “Why did you choose that?” I’ve used this example before because it’s a fairly common occurrence that spans multiple fandoms, but has been re-popularized lately by BNHA. Basically, the problem with giving women superheroes scantily clad outfits that obviously serve to sexualize them. The RWBY fandom are akin those that go, “Momo has to be scantily clad because she creates objects out of her bare skin and Toru has to be naked because clothes ruin her being invisible, duh. Clearly you’re too stupid to pay attention to what the show tells you,” entirely missing that the criticism is asking why the author designed things that way in the first place. It’s a sci-fi story with fantasy elements. There was nothing stopping Horikoshi from just introducing futuristic outfits that allow the high school girls to pull objects through the material, or make the outfit invisible to match the person. Or giving them superpowers with different rules to begin with! Why can’t Momo bring out any object just through the palms of her hands? Why can’t Toru make the things she wears invisible too? Writers are the gods of their story and their choices tell us a lot about what they want to prioritize.

RWBY chose not to introduce Theodore despite the ability to do so only being limited by their own imagination. Qrow could have been exchanging letters with him since the Fall. A shady side character could have showed up at the bar, delivering a verbal message from the head of Vacuo’s inner circle before sneaking off again. We could have gotten flashbacks to him during the pre-Beacon days. Ironwood could have invented a short-term communication device that’s good for one message, resulting in a quick but crucial check-in. Ozpin could have had a conversation with the group where he shares insight into his friend and everyone debates if, after Lionheart, they can still trust him. Anything could have happened! But so many fans are inclined to go, “But that couldn’t have happened because RWBY doesn’t do flashbacks like that, and Ironwood never invented that kind of device, and everyone was mad at Ozpin back then, and—” ignoring that, obviously, other aspects of the show would have to change to accommodate this. It's the exact reason why Number1yangster dismissed by idea to just make Theodore a part of the original meeting, claiming that this couldn't have happened because headmasters rarely attend... even though Ironwood is right there. If he can be an exception, why not Theodore too? Or why not make it so that the headmasters do unusually attend, but Lionheart couldn't make it this time for whatever reason (potentially setting up his future reveal as a betrayer)? Things can and should change to accommodate the additions that are going to improve the story as a whole.

That’s how writing works and many other times RT has demonstrated that they understand that. In Volume 4 how do we learn about Jaune getting new armor? We’re dropped into a fight where he’s struggling because he doesn’t have his sword, the group goes to a blacksmith that’s been created solely to provide Jaune with this update, there’s a scene wherein he dons the outfit, and there’s a conversation where we establish that this was made from Pyrrha’s armor, highlighting the character and thematic importance of this. If Jaune had just shown up in Volume 4 with a new look and critics wondered where in the world he got all that, there’s no explanation for this, it just randomly appeared… others would have started insisting that it just wasn’t possible to show that evolution on screen, there wasn't time, Jaune was too busy doing his job as a huntsmen to show you how he got his armor... even though the canon demonstrates that of course writing a journey that answered the audience's basic questions was always possible. Many fans approach RWBY like a historical event, something that happened the way it happened and only a delusional idiot would think they can change the facts of these real people going about their real lives, rather than approaching it like the malleable, fictional work it is, where if something doesn’t make sense, it’s because the writers failed to make choices that would lead to a cohesive story.

Case in point: my Jaune example doesn’t account for the fact that the show never explains how he got the armor in the first place. Pyrrha was killed up on the tower while Jaune was blasting off in the weapon locker. There’s no indication that someone like Qrow picked those pieces up, there’s no explanation why Jaune would get it over Pyrrha’s family, and none of this even takes into account that everything but Pyrrha’s headpiece disintegrated after Cinder's attack. Even when RWBY is working to set things up and follow through on the questions the audience might have, it’s an attempt still riddled with holes.

At this point in the series, eight years in, we have a wealth of examples where RWBY fails to meet basic writing expectations and the commentaries are riddled with admissions that they forgot this, should have done that, admit that this was confusing, that they couldn’t stick to their own rules here, etc. We have both textual and Word of God evidence that these writers frequently fail to craft a story where the audience can follow along without buying bonus content of dubious canonical status, spending time in fandom communities going, "Wait, can someone explain this to me?" or just throwing up their hands because no one has an explanation for this, good luck thinking up one yourself. It really shouldn’t be a hot take anymore to say that RWBY is often missing crucial pieces like “Did not establish Theodore as a character,” yet many fans remain too enamored with the version of RWBY they've headcanoned to just admit that yeah, the writers made a mistake. Again.

Other than emphasizing that RWBY is a fictional construct that the writers have complete control over, the second thing I'd want the fandom to learn is that acknowledging a story's flaws doesn't bar you from loving it. A lot of fans act like if they ever gave any ground to criticism and admitted that RWBY is less than perfect, they'd lose their Allowed To Enjoy RWBY card. It's like they're convinced that this thing they enjoy comes with the requirement of never ever saying anything bad about it... and to some extent, they're right. Because the fandom has rejected criticism to such an extreme that you're immediately ostracized from major portions of the community simply for voicing any criticism, no matter how mild. What was the recent Reddit drama if not evidence that, if given the chance, many fans will permanently cut anyone critical from the community? Fans know that if they were to ever commit the great sin of going, "Hey, that RWDE blog has a point" many others would turn on them and the part of their RWBY enjoyment stemming from community interaction would be irrevocably changed. Some fans just need to learn that you can love something while admitting to its flaws; others I think would be happy to do that if the rest of the fandom hadn't made it clear that this approach comes with social consequences. A part of me really gets why many fans double down on praising RWBY and rejecting discussion out of hand. It's a way of distancing themselves: a witty jab with eye-roll emoji proves to everyone reading that you're not anything like the "hatedom," but a legitimate discussion shows that maybe, just maybe, you're giving those opinions a fair shake... and we can't have that, can we? That means you're a hater. That means you're probably out on twitter harassing RT. That means you're someone the rest of the fandom needs to reject because having you around would just ruin all the "real" fans' fun. So you head on over to the RWDE corners of the Internet and yay, people are happy to discuss RWBY with you again, but entering those groups has now "proven" that you were never a true fan to begin with. It's a lose-lose situation unless you agree to never entertain criticism in the first place. And if you know that agreeing with a take might lose you your circle of online friends, lose an audience you've worked hard to develop, and result in a whole slew of hate in your inbox... yeah, safer and more enjoyable to just agree with the crowed and reiterate that RWBY is flawless. Better that than deal with the alternative.

[mandospace]

Keeping Company (Boba Fett x Reader Smut)

Request: If you're still taking requests, would you write a Boba x female reader smut? I headcannon Boba as being really rough most of the time, kinky as hell, and definitely has a breeding kink. I'm not into the entire 'daddy' thing, but am game for just about anything else.

Requested By: @asaucecoveredsomething​

Word Count: 4,658

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, do not interact! Masturbation, slight voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight choking, slight bondage, PinV sex, fluff at the end!

A/N: I am a whore for Boba and I got way too into this while I was writing it. I hope you Boba fuckers love reading this because I sure enjoyed writing it! 

MASTERLIST

Slave One was silent besides the constant thrum of electricity running through it's wires. It was parked on some obscure desert planet, sand whipping against the metal. Boba had been gone for a week already, hunting down some Twi'lek that had wronged him before the fall of the Empire. Now as king of the crime underworld and ruler of the territory formerly known as Hutt space, Boba didn't want any ‘loose ends’ coming for his throne. So the two of you took off in his father's old ship two months ago, hunting down the various 'loose ends' scattered throughout the galaxy.

You weren't exactly sure why Boba had decided to take you along with him instead of just leaving you at the palace. Not exactly the best fighter, you were positive that you would have slowed him down with your inexperience. When you brought it up to him, Boba just chuckled and snaked his arm around your waist, tugging you to his side with an "I'm gonna need company on those long nights, sweetness."

So you tagged along behind him, excited when you learned your true purpose on his mission. The two of you had been together for some time now, and even though he wasn't a man of many words, you knew deep down that he loved you. You were completely enamored with your bounty hunter-turned-king, and were willing to do anything to please him. So, you said yes to this journey. You said yes to the picture he painted in your head of the two of you wrapped up in each other during those long nights, keeping him company.

Of course, that hasn't happened since he returned from his first hunt. It had been exactly six weeks, four days, and thirteen hours since you last "kept him company."

It was killing you.

He had become very busy with his hunts after that first successful mission, and your alone time practically evaporated into thin air. The two of you had a very, well, physical, relationship and the need you always felt for him grew with every passing minute. The ache you felt between your legs was constant. It was ever growing, it kept building every time he came back to the ship. Just when you thought that he would take care of you and keep you company this time, he would either immediately set off for another quarry or would collapse on the bed in his quarters and fall asleep faster than you could say 'Wookie.'

So, yeah, you were a little needy.

Normally, you would have just taken care of the situation by yourself, but right before Boba had left on his first hunt he made you promise him that you wouldn't touch yourself. "It'll be fun, sweetness," he had smirked at your shocked face. "Just think, it'll make the reward just that much sweeter when I come back to you."

Sure, you had thought to yourself after the fifth time he fell asleep after returning from a hunt. If you actually stayed up to get your reward.

The ache would just not go away no matter what you tried. You took cold showers, cleaned the entire ship, and even tried to learn how to sew his old pair of pants he tore chasing after a quarry. Nothing took your mind off the way your pussy throbbed at night, demanding to be noticed.

You were left with two options. Option number one, you ignore it. Force yourself to go to sleep and just hope and pray to the Maker that when Boba returns, he doesn't fall asleep on you. Option number two, you take care of it yourself. If you broke the 'no-touching' policy, Boba would surely punish you. But only if he caught you, right? He wasn't due back for another two days, so surely you would be fine.

When you made up your mind, a thrill raced down your spine at the idea of disobeying Boba's orders. He was always in charge in every aspect of your relationship, and when you pushed his buttons before, the tortuous pleasure he gave you made you sore for days. While you loved the punishment, it wasn't nearly as good as him giving you what you desperately craved. But you weren't going to get caught, so you had nothing to worry about.

That night, you laid yourself back on your shared bed with excitement. To make the moment more enjoyable for yourself, you had dug through the ship's crates and found a delicious-smelling candle. You weren’t sure why it was on the ship, but it’s scent reminded you of Boba. The thought of him sent a shiver down your body, reminding you of your own mission.

Eyes fluttering shut, you breathed in the scent of Boba. You could feel your pussy throbbing with excitement at the prospect of what was about to happen. Your hands floated down your body, light touch through your nightshirt leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Hand making its way under your waistband, your finger trailed farther south until it met your slit. A soft gasp left your lips at how wet you found yourself. Your panties were already soaked through with desire. When your nail brushed against your clit, swollen with need, you moaned and bit down on your bottom lip. 

You haven’t had any type of release for a month and a half, and you wanted to draw this moment out. Pulling your hand out of your underwear, you tugged your shirt over your head and kicked off your sleep shorts and panties. The ship was cold, and goosebumps raised along your flesh. You could feel your nipples harden at the cold air, peaking in anticipation. Settling back against the pillows, your mind drifted off to Boba. You wished he was here with you, the one to give you the pleasure you so desperately craved. No matter what you did, it would never measure up to what you experienced with him.

Your hands drifted down your body, cupping your breasts. Wishing it was Boba’s large hands on you instead of your own, you brushed a thumb over the hardened peak. A soft moan left your mouth when you gently pinched the pert nipple. Pleasure rippled down your body and settled in your core. Your hands continued on their trail south and you spread your legs wide in anticipation. Two fingers dipped down to your entrance and gathered the slick that was beginning to pool on the sheets. You dragged the wetness to your clit and began rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves.

“Boba,” your breath hitched in your throat when a wave of pleasure coursed through your veins. Your left hand squeezed your breast as you flicked the bundle of nerves. You imagined that it was Boba’s thick fingers that were moving down to your sopping entrance instead of your own. Slipping two fingers into your heat, another moan fell from your lips. It had been so long, and you almost cried at the feeling of something in your pussy. While you wished it was Boba’s thick cock instead of your fingers, you made do with what you had available. Boba’s name constantly fell from your lips with breathy moans, wishing your bounty hunter was next to you...

———

The walk back to the ship was long and arduous. It had taken longer than Boba expected to find the Twi’lek that wronged him all those years ago, but he was glad it was finally over with. He didn’t even bother dragging the body back to the ship, there was no use carting around a corpse worth nothing when you already collected on the reward. Besides, Boba was thinking more about a different reward that waited for him on his ship.

When the ship came into his view, Boba sighed in relief. He couldn’t wait to walk up that ramp, throw off his helmet, and wrap you in his arms. These past few weeks were killing him. He wasn’t the young bounty hunter he once was, the hunts took more effort nowadays. By the time he was ready to spend some time with you, he often found himself asleep next to you within a few seconds. Boba ached to be inside you, it had been too long. He originally thought the ‘no-touching’ policy would be a great idea- a way to build up the anticipation and excitement while he was away from you. He just didn’t expect it to be this long of a waiting period.

Boba pressed a button on his vambrace that lowered the ramp. The hull was dark and quiet, only the sound of electricity hummed through the air. He didn’t see you in your usual spot where you waited for him. You must be asleep, Boba figured, and pressed the button again to close the ramp. He couldn’t blame you for sleeping, it was the easiest way to make time pass by faster. Once the ramp locked in position, Boba started to make his way towards his quarters. If you were asleep, he decided that he would join you and get his reward once the two of you had gotten some rest. He had only walked a few paces when a noise stopped him dead in his tracks. He waited to hear it again, trying to discern if it was just a figment of his imagination, but then he heard it-

“Boba.”

He would recognize your voice anywhere. Boba was pretty confident that he could pick your voice out of thousands, but he was damn sure he would be able to if you said it in the tone you just used. Your breathless moaning of his name was his favorite sound in the world.

Boba could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan. He immediately knew what you were doing, but he wanted to see it for himself. He had to catch you in the act if he was going to punish you. So he quietly made his way to his quarters, and stopped just inside the door.

The image of you sprawled out on his bed, naked, hand in between your legs playing with your pussy sent a lightning bolt of lust through his body. His dick pressed against the confines of his pants as he stood there, watching you. Your eyes were closed- you hadn’t seen him come in- and you arched your back in pleasure. Boba’s eyes never left your body, watching the way you thrust your fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Boba,” you moaned again, biting down on your bottom lip. He couldn’t just stand there, watching you pleasure yourself. That was his job.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

The deep timbre of Boba’s voice through the vocoder of his helmet made your eyes snap open. Immediately, you glanced to the doorway and saw him standing there, full armor on, staring at you pleasuring yourself in his absence. Which you definitely were not supposed to be doing.

“Boba-” you gasped, but he quickly cut you off.

“I thought we agreed to something, princess,” his words dripped from his tongue with lust, the sound making your pussy throb. “No touching while we were apart, right?”

You tried to come up with an excuse whilst you just laid there, fingers still buried between your folds. You were too scared to pull them away. Boba was in charge now.

“Did you really miss my cock that much, sweetness?” His tone was mocking and you couldn’t help but whimper out a measly ‘yes.’ Boba growled deep in his chest. “Hands up.”

Not daring to disobey his orders anymore, you brought your hands up and above your head, resting them on the pillows. Boba stalked towards you before grabbing both of your hands in one of his large gloved ones. He grabbed the cuffs from his belt and cuffed your hands together before magnetizing them to the metal wall at the head of the bed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Boba stood over you, dark visor peering at your flushed face. You squirmed on the bed in anticipation, you knew you fucked up- now was the time to pay for it. “Boba.”

He hummed low in his throat, gloved hand trailing down your neck before resting between the valley of your breasts. You could feel the warmth of him through his glove, and his touch set you ablaze. He had barely touched you, just a single graze, and you were already putty in his hand.

“Please,” you choked out as his hand moved further down your body. He cupped your heat, middle finger gliding through your folds.

“And why should I?” Boba questioned, languidly drawing circles on your clit. He was moving too slow, not giving you the friction you craved. “You disobeyed me, little one.”

Shit, you were really in trouble now. He never called you ‘little one’ unless you really fucked up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I thought-”

“You thought what?” Boba stopped his movements, pulling his hand away from your cunt. He dragged his fingers back up your body, smearing your slick over your stomach. His hand rested at the base of your throat, squeezing slightly. The lack of oxygen made your head swim even more and caused you to let out a whine. “Thought you could touch yourself and I wouldn’t find out?”

All you could do was nod your head. No use in lying to him now. Boba ‘tsked,’ giving your throat another squeeze. “Guess I’m going to have to punish you, little one.”

He was going to make you cry. “Boba, please, I’ll be good.”

“If you aren’t punished,” Boba moved his hands up to his helmet, pulling it off to reveal his lust-filled eyes. “You’ll never learn.”

His hand groped your breast, flicking your nipple before wrapping his warm mouth around it. He sucked your breast into his mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched off the bed in an attempt to push your chest closer to him. Boba lightly bit down on the sensitive bud, causing a pathetic whimper to leave your mouth. He moved over to the other breast, giving it the same attention before he trailed his lips down your stomach. Settling himself between your spread legs, Boba made eye contact with you momentarily before he licked a broad stripe up your pussy.

You screamed at the sensation of his warm tongue running through your folds. It had been forever since he ate you out and it was your favorite kind of torture. Boba’s mouth focused on your clit, sucking hard on it and leaving you breathless. You tugged at your restraints, wanting to use your hands to pull him closer to your dripping heat. Instead, the cuffs dug into your wrist- surely leaving marks. Boba continued to lick your pussy, giving your clit small, fast licks. He brought his gloved hand to your entrance, easily sinking two of his thick fingers into your heat. His fingers felt so much better than yours did, and the way he thrust them in tandem with his tongue licking your clit drove you crazy. You could feel the heat pooling in your tummy, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers adding fuel to the growing flame.

“Boba,” you whined when his teeth grazed your clit. Your hips began to lift off the bed, trying to get closer to his mouth, but he just slung an arm over your hips and pinned you to the bed. His ministrations on your pussy felt delicious, causing breathless whines and moans to roll off your tongue. He added a third finger, pressing them into your dripping cunt before curling upwards. The leather of his glove just barely grazed against the spongy flesh of your walls, and it felt like you had been electrocuted. Your head leaned back in pleasure, mouth forming an ‘O’ as he pressed against that one spot and sucked your clit harshly. It was too much, the feeling of him giving you attention after all these weeks. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten, and a soft cry left your lips. “Boba, I-I’m going to-”

Just as the coiled spring in your tummy was about to snap and send you crashing over the edge, Boba pulled his mouth and fingers away from your cunt. Eyes snapping open in fury, you stared down between your legs where Boba sat on his haunches. His eyes were dark as they watched your heaving chest. You could see the sheen of your slick covering his mouth and chin. You were furious. “Boba, what the hell?!”

Boba just chuckled at your fury, crawling over your body. Tears were starting to pool in your eyes. It felt so good having him between your legs, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands over his body. Boba brought his slick-coated fingers to your mouth, lightly tapping your bottom lip. “Suck,” he demanded, pushing his fingers into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of you on the old leather, tongue licking clean his fingers. You made sure to meet his gaze before you sucked on his fingers, hard.

“I want you, in my mouth,” you gasped when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Boba just stared at you, and brought his own fingers to his mouth to lick off the remnants of your desire. You squirmed under his gaze, and you could see just how hard he was by the tent in his pants. “Please.”

“Bad girls don’t get what they want,” Boba hummed while his hand traveled down to his pants. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers and shoved them down his thighs a bit. His cock sprang to attention, almost slapping against his armored chest. He was swollen with need and extremely hard. His tip was a lovely shade of dusty rose, and precum dripped down his shaft. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him. He was gorgeously thick, and you ached to wrap your lips around him.

He gripped his cock at the base and slowly dragged the head through your wet folds. Your breath hitched in your throat when he brushed against your clit. The need and desire that coursed through your veins made you hot to the touch. Boba just knelt there between your legs, lazily dragging his cock back and forth through your pussy. It brought tears to your eyes and you desperately wanted him to do anything besides just tease you like that.

“Boba.”

“Yes, little one?” He didn’t look at you, just watched the way his cock glided through your folds. You could see how tense he was in his beskar-covered shoulders. You wished you could reach out and touch him.

“Please,” you whimpered. You must’ve sounded really desperate because he finally met your gaze. Boba smirked as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Fuck me.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest whilst his free hand grabbed your hip. “Anything for you, princess.” Boba quickly entered you with a snap of his hips. The feeling of him stretching you out with his thick cock was slightly painful after all of these weeks. Pain melted into pleasure though when he bottomed out in you with a groan. “Fuck, always so tight for me.”

Boba was practically splitting you open on his cock and you couldn’t do anything about it. You pulled at the restraints but it was no use. You pleaded for Boba to move, and he graciously pulled himself back out of your heat, only leaving the tip in. He rested there for a moment and your chest heaved in anticipation. Just when you thought he wasn’t going to move, he slammed back into you and a strangled cry flew past your lips. Boba set a hard and fast pace, pounding into you with no reluctance. His grip on your hips was surely leaving bruises on your skin, but with each drag of his cock against your walls, you found yourself no longer caring. The feeling of him pounding into you was electrifying, and the desire started to build in your lower tummy.

“Boba,” his name constantly slipped past your lips. You were a moaning mess under him, and you wanted nothing more than to pull his face towards yours so you could kiss him. “Please, I need to touch you.”

Boba grunted with each snap of his hips against yours. You weren’t sure if he even heard you over the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, but he momentarily pulled out of you so he could reach up and undo the cuffs restraining you. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long, but you didn’t care. Your hands immediately went to Boba’s scarred face and pulled him towards you. Lips crashing against his, you moaned into his mouth when he pushed his cock back into your pussy. His arms snaked around your waist and tugged you closer to his armored chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned at the feeling of him pounding into you deeper at the new angle.

“Fuck, sweetness,” Boba moaned against your lips before trailing them down to suck a mark on your neck. Your hands roamed his back and finally settled on his shoulders, fingers gripping the pauldrons to stabilize yourself. 

“Missed you so much... Been wanting this sweet pussy for weeks.” Moaning at his words, you could feel the coil in your belly tighten. Your walls fluttered around his cock and he could feel your approaching release. Boba reached down between your bodies and began rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Come for me, little one.”

The combination of Boba’s cock pounding into you, his leather-clad fingers circling your clit, and lips marking your neck sent you over the edge. Pleasure crashed into you and sent you spinning with every pulse of heat coursing through your veins. You moaned loudly and your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. The feeling of your walls clamping down on Boba’s cock as he rode out your high made his own quickly approach. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pulled them up into his hips in time with his thrusts.

“Feel so good,” Boba’s words started to slur with his approaching release. “M’ sweet girl... take m-me so well.” His hips pistoned into yours. “Fuck, gonna f-fill you up, m-make warriors wi-with-“ Boba’s sentence cut off abruptly with a groan as his balls pulled up tight. He buried himself deep in your fluttering heat, releasing his seed. His cum painted your walls in thick ropes, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock giving you everything he had.

Boba’s forehead rested against yours as the two of you came down from your highs. He pulled out his softening cock from you with a squelch, your combined releases leaking out of your weeping pussy. The sight of his cum leaking from you made Boba swell with pride. He loved knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel this way, the only one who was allowed to come inside of you.

His fingers lightly grazed across your skin, rubbing soothing patterns into your aching muscles. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he gathered what remained of his cum that was leaking out of your entrance and pushed it back in with two fingers. He meant what he said earlier- he desperately wanted to make warriors with you. Boba yearned to watch you swell with his child, becoming round from his seed. The image of you pregnant caused a chill to race down his spine, and Boba pressed his lips to yours.

“Missed you, princess,” he mumbled against your lips. His fingers lazily pumped into you, making sure you were stuffed full with his cum. A breathless sigh escaped past your lips at the feeling, and you pulled back from his kiss to look him in the eyes. They were softer now, content to just be here with you.

“How was the hunt?” You absentmindedly asked, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his neck. You could feel the knots and tension that laid beneath the tan skin.

“Okay,” he shrugged, giving your lips a lazy peck. “Got the bastard. Should only be a few more left.” His thumb brushed over your clit, body shivering at the overstimulation.

“Yeah? And then what?”

“Then, my sweet girl,” Boba pressed another kiss to your mouth. “We go home. And we fuck until the sun goes down.”

“I like that plan,” you smiled. The idea of not having to travel for once, to be able to stay in one place with the man you loved was intoxicating- even if it was on a planet like Tatooine. The feeling of Boba pushing his cum back into your abused pussy made another idea pop up in your mind- one that made your cheeks flush.

“What is it, princess?” Boba hummed against your lips.

“I was just thinking,” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “Do you think there’s any good schools on Tatooine?”

“Schools?” The confusion was evident in Boba’s voice. “You want to go back to school?”

“No,” you giggled, lightly smacking his pauldron. “I was just thinking, if we ever have kids, we are going to want a good school.” His silence made you nervous and you began rambling. “That is, if you want to have kids with me. I’d understand if you didn’t, but I-“

Boba cut your ramblings off with a kiss. He wasn’t really a sappy, romantic man, but you echoing his previous thoughts made his heart soar. “Of course we will get them a good school. If there aren’t any on Tatooine, we’ll build one. Right next to the palace.” The words just flowed out of him. “I’ll hire the best teachers. I’ll teach them how to fight, and you’ll teach them how to be kind and good.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You never knew that Boba shared the same sentiments as you, and hearing how he talked about it made you pull his lips back to yours. It was a passionate kiss, lips sliding past each other’s and tongues licking into the other’s mouth. Boba’s hand retreated from your pussy in favor of gripping your hip. He could feel his cock stirring again.

Before Boba could do something about it though, you were pushing on his shoulder to roll him onto his back. You followed the motion, legs on either side of his as you sat down on his thighs. His cock was starting to harden again at this new position, and the sight of it made you bring your lip between your teeth. You reached out for it, fingers wrapping around the base before slowly pumping it.

“Sweetness, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” Boba’s words fell from his lips with a soft moan. The image of you straddling him and pumping his hardening cock sent swirls of desire through his veins.

“Why wait until we get back to the palace for you to fuck a baby into me?” You slightly lifted your hips and gripped his cock, nestling it at your entrance. The tip of his head pushed in, and you sank your body down on his cock with a moan. Boba’s hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed when you started gently rocking your hips on his cock. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Buckle up, old man,” your chuckle evolved into a moan when his tip brushed up against that sweet spot inside of you. “I’m planning on getting pregnant before the sun comes up.”

Your words made a growl rip through his chest, hips jutting up into yours. “We’re just getting started, little one.”

[seokoloqy]

INFERNO | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: phoenix!jungkook x reader

➳ GENRE: smut, pwp

➳ WORD COUNT: 2.7k

➳ WARNINGS: SEXUAL TENSION BABEY, sort of religious reader, koo has his dick out the whole time, the only thing bigger than his dick is his massive ego, the gloves stay ON during sex, semi voyerism, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex

➳ SUMMARY: after praying to the gods for help, they whisper for you to visit the Royal Court of Embers to find their king, but all you find is a egotistical phoenix who wonders why you aren’t down on your knees worshiping him instead

➳ A/N: I wanted to practice sexual tension so I wrote this bad boy. I should mention it is also part of the Nevermore universe!

—

The golden sun. That’s what you would describe the phoenix in front of you as. A blinding, but glorious light you’d almost mistake as one of the gods.

Visiting the Royal Court of Embers with a request, as nothing but a weak human with nothing to offer, probably won’t end well, but you’ve become desperate. The people in your town have begun to vanish without a trace, not even a body left behind. The hunters can’t figure out the cause no matter how hard they search. It’s becoming a hopeless endeavor and there are many who have given up finding an answer, wondering why the gods have abandoned their loved ones.

But not you. You still believe the gods have an answer out there. After visiting the temples and praying, asking the gods for help, a gentle breeze whispered the answer into your ear.

Visit the Royal Court of Embers. Find the king.

So you did.

Entering the domain shared by dragons and phoenixes as a human is a brave feat. Not much is known about them other than their immense power being enough to scare even the strongest demons into submission. If anything—god or beast—can solve your mysterious problem, it’s them.

When you arrived however, they refused to let you speak to their king, claiming you had no right to even be on their land. But your persistence was enough to convince them to let you speak to the king’s right hand, Jungkook, a phoenix.

His many lovers leave hungry, lust filled marks across his body, staining his skin with blossoming purple and red marks. They drown him, draped over him, rutting against anything he has to offer, moaning out all their heavenly pleasure.

You hear their cries, the wanton way his name easily falls from their hungry lips.

“Jungkook,” they plead from plush, red lips.

And despite this, despite Jungkook’s constorts clinging to his skin and begging for his attention, his eyes flutter to yours across the room for a moment. A single glance from those blazing, golden eyes, as if the eternal sun were captured in his irises, sets your beating heart ablaze and you just can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from his magnificence.

While his eyes, heavy with lust, roam over your meek form slowly, his interest has piqued.

What is a human doing trembling in the presence of a phoenix? No, more importantly, how were you granted access into his chambers?

What a nuisance.

A single gloved finger curls, beckoning you over to his sofa. He disperses his lovers with a sharp look, without a word. They know better than to ignore his burning eyes and scamper off, completely bare, and out the door you just entered.

He examines you with curiosity.

“Closer.”

You step forward, averting your eyes from his uncovered erection to the setting sun over a green valley. It’s such a perfect sight. He must see this everyday and bask in the golden glow.

You suddenly feel a twinge of sadness in your chest knowing that this will be the last time you’ll ever get to witness such a magnificent sunset. Back home, the dull skies are constantly gloomy with grey clouds hiding the sun.

You want to marvel at the sky longer and wait to see the sun disappear over the horizon but the phoenix clears his throat and your eyes are drawn back to him—a being as glorious as the sun itself.

“Kneel, human,” He drawls, tugging on the edge of his glove tighter. If his hands were to even graze your skin for a second, you’d be consumed by his unforgiving flames, and he’d rather not have the stench of your burnt corpse lingering in his chambers.

You do as told, prefering to be on good terms with Jungkook if you’re going to have to ask for his help. Your knees collide with the floor, going so far as to lowering your forehead to meet the marble. The floors are cold, unlike the temperature of the room currently. Ever since you stepped into Jungkook’s room, the temperature feels like a warm summer day spent outside doing yard work with beads of sweat slowly dripping down your temples. So the cool tiles are a sweet relief to the heat.

“I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Jungkook tsks, amused, “come closer.”

You slowly rise, moving toward him once again until you’re in front of his lounging figure. His legs are spread wide, a loose black robe hangs over his shoulders, doing nothing to cover his thick erection.

You almost begin to salivate, thoughts wandering off to inappropriate imaginations. It’s hard to recall why you’re standing in front of him when all you can think of is how it would feel to be choking on his cock, having it hit the back of your throat as he fucks your mouth however he pleases.

Jungkook wears a smirk, almost like he knows exactly what dirty thoughts are plaguing your mind and he’s thinking the same.

“Have your gods forsaken you again, little human?” The phoenix purrs, running his gloved finger slowly on the underside of your jaw. The thin material, the only thing keeping you from burning at his touch, is soft. “Have your prayers not reached their deaf ears? Or have you finally accepted that the only gods you truly have are right here in front of you?”

His golden eyes burn brightly, swallowing you into their inferno.

You swallow, wetting your lips. Jungkook’s golden eyes quickly follow your tongue glide across your lower lip, curious for a taste. “Maybe the gods have led me to you.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Come.”

He pats his bare thigh, inviting you to sit. His silk robe has opened and now exposes his cock resting hard against his chiseled stomach.

You can’t help your wandering eyes. His gloved hands grab tightly onto your waist as if telling you not to run. He guides you down onto his toned thigh, never letting go. You do your best to avoid letting your leg brush against his erection, afraid you might let out a moan once you feel how hard he actually is.

Jungkook’s chest brushes against your shoulder, his grip around your waist tightens, as he leans in to press his lips against the shell of your ear. He whispers in a low and seductive tone, the vibration of his words causes you to shudder, “let me ask you something.”

You hold your breath, struggling to keep it steady when one of his hands snakes up your back to cup the back of your neck.

Jungkook presses a featherlight kiss to the underside of your jaw. You might not have felt it if you weren’t so hyper aware of his every movement, his every breath on your burning skin.

“Humans have prayed to their gods for centuries, but none of them ever answer. So, why?”

Another soft kiss, this time against the shell of your ear.

“Why what?” You manage to say almost breathlessly. You turn your head away in an attempt to cool down your burning cheeks, but being so close to a phoenix it feels like your whole body is on fire.

“Why do you humans continue to worship absent gods?”

You wring your hands together.

“I have faith.” It was faith that guided you to the Court of Embers and led you straight into Jungkook’s lap with the hopes that he’d help your town. So far, the gods haven’t led you wrong. In fact, you’re currently thanking them silently for bringing you on to the lap of this breathtaking phoenix.

“Faith,” he repeats. You can feel the hot breath of his scoff on your neck. “Don’t you want to believe in something real? Humans should be worshiping us instead.”

His hand pries apart your tightly bound ones, guiding it down a path along his chest. Your eyes follow, your body lets him drag your hand down lower and lower.

“We’re real. See how easily you can come to me?” Now your hand is right above his weeping cock. You squirm in his lap, legs clenching together. “Touch me?”

Gone, are his steady breaths and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Now, he lets out a shuddered breath, staring deeply into your eyes.

“We could grant your every wish, your every desire, if you’d just get on your knees and pray to us instead, my sweet human. You’d have it all.”

Finally, he presses his lips to yours. They’re as warm as you’d expect a phoenix’s lips would be. The kiss sparks a light in your belly, desire pooling even more than before. The hand on the back of your neck draws you in closer until your chest is flush with his and you move your hands up to curl around the silk fabric of his robe.

He pulls back, almost breathless, his pink swollen lips barely grazing yours. “Let me be your only god tonight. I can show you all I have to offer.”

You’re eager for another kiss, for his hands to wander lower on your body, but you can’t forget why you’re here in the first place.

“Only if you agree to help my town.” You pant, sliding your hands down his bare chest. The tip of your finger brushes the head of his cock lightly. He tenses his grip around you, letting out a soft groan into your ear. “I wouldn’t mind getting on my knees to pray then.”

Jungkook smirks, splaying his fingers across your inner thigh, stroking the skin. He spreads your legs wider.

“You humans love playing with fire,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting at sensitive skin. His gloved hands, outline your waist. The soft material glides closer and closer to your core. “But I accept.”

Briefly, his finger connects with your clit through the material of your pants and you jolt against him, whining when he pulls back.

“Are you ready to forsake your gods for me tonight?”

You nod, moving your hips closer to his fingers, eager to take your pants off and grind against whatever he has to offer.

He chuckles, unbuttoning your pants, “hm, my human, I’m afraid once you have a taste of me you’ll become addicted. Are you really ready for me?”

You’d like to wipe the teasing smirk off his face so your hand wraps around the base of his cock, stroking slowly. You enjoy the breathy whimper he makes when caught off guard. Seeing if you can make him do it again, your thumb runs over the head of his cock, spreading the pearl of precum forming at the tip.

“Ah, f-fuck,” he hisses. The high and mighty confidence he wears slowly slipping.

“I want you, Jungkook,” you tease, releasing his cock and sucking the precum off your thumb, “but maybe it’s you who’s not ready for me?”

You flick your wrists, pumping his cock and watching his face crumble in pleasure.

“Damn, you human,” he curses, clenching his jaw.

“Try calling me ___ instead of human and maybe I’ll show you how good I am on my knees.”

His golden eyes shine, practically glow, as he rakes them over you. “No,” he says stubbornly, the confident voice he had before is seeping back. “You’re going to strip and get on my bed instead.”

Those eyes are not meant to be disobeyed. You feel the heat between your thighs pool even more at his commanding voice.

You rise off his lap, pulling off your shirt. As you make your way towards his bed, you unclasp your bra, dropping it to the ground behind you. Although you can’t see his face, you’re certain he’s watching your every move. Once you shimmy off your pants and underwear, you sway your hips, enticing the phoenix.

“Such a wicked temptress,” He tsks, following after you. “Are you sure you’re not a succubus?”

Jungkook comes up behind you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. His gloved hand dips down to tease your dripping entrance, rolling your clit between two pinched fingers. You roll your hips against his finger, eagerly waiting to be filled.

“Just human,” you breathe, leaning your back against his chest, carding your fingers through his soft chestnut hair.

His breath tickles your skin again as he runs his nose down your neck, pressing rough kisses along the way. His lips latch onto your shoulder sucking a new mark for you to wear. He pulls back to admire your new bruise and as he does so, he uses two fingers and slides them into you without warning. His gloves are soaked from your juices, letting his fingers move easily in and out of your wet heat.

You moan against his neck, rocking your hips as his fingers curl inside you, “Mm, more.”

He moves slowly, drawing more moans out of you and occasionally brushes your clit so you’ll whine for more. He lightly scrapes his teeth over your ear, whispering, “Good girl, keep moaning for me like that.”

His other hand rubs your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers, alternating between each. The sting of his touch makes you whimper.

You grind your ass against his cock teasingly, feeling his fingers tense and still inside of your pussy. It’s a mistake because he pulls his slick coated fingers out of you, leaving you begging for him to put them back.

“I don’t take orders from humans easily. If you want to cum you’re going to have to earn it.”

—

Your thighs are aching. If it weren’t for his strong arm holding your waist up, you’d be limp on the bed as he fucked you. Your voice is wasted from screaming his name over and over.

His strong thrust reminds you that he’s one of the most powerful creatures to ever exist. Each time he penetrates your tightly clenched walls from behind, you’re filled with even more heat and desire.

You curl your fingers around his sheets, crying out at his brutal pace. The wet slaps of your bodies meeting resonate throughout the room.

“Please, please,” you plead, the voice that comes out is so unfamiliar, “let me cum.”

“Tell me,” he grunts, sneaking a hand around to lightly press a finger to your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a sob. “Aren’t I better than your gods?”

You’re shaking with need and on the verge of tears. Living as an immortal phoenix, Jungkook really knows how to use his cock to turn anyone into a mess. You’re not even fully aware of everything you’re saying. You know enough to know whatever you’re saying is getting you closer to the release you’re after.

“Yes!,” you cry, “fuck, I-I only need you, Jungkook.”

His gloved finger rubs roughly against your clit, sending more tremors through your aching body. “You’ll never be fucked this good again, huh? Not by any mortal or beast.”

“No, never!”

“That’s right,” he hisses as you clench around him. “You’ve been good for me, human. Cum.”

It’s all you need for him to say as your whole body tenses and you’re in a state of pure euphoria. You cry out his name one more time.

Jungkook’s thrusts become more erratic as he chases his own release. His cum fills you up, ropes and ropes of it costing your walls. When he pulls out, a mix of both your juices leak from your abused hole. He releases your waist and you have no choice but to give into your weakened muscles and fall limp against the bed.

You groan at the soreness of your thighs and bury your face into his sheets.

Behind you, you can hear him shuffling around, but you’re too tired to care what he’s doing. Drifting off into a peaceful sleep is all you want now.

—

“Wake up, human. We have a deal, remember?”

You’re roused out of your peaceful slumber by an irritated voice.

“I can’t have anyone else in the palace knowing I made a deal with a human. They’d laugh about it for the next century. So we’re sneaking out before dawn.”

You lazily open one eye to find Jungkook, still in a loose fitting robe that exposes his chest, but at least it’s covering his lower half.

“I’m surprised you cared enough to remember.”

You thought he’d kick you out once he’d finished with you, but he’s proved you wrong.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms, “I have to prove that humans are better off worshipping us, don’t I?”