#it's the last stretch dawn of the final day etc etc

[mishkakagehishka]

Love the way hermetic poetry was like all about resistenza and no war, no regimes, no repression. And then one of the Main Three poets was a known fascist

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

can I ask for a Yeosang X Reader smut where she has to use bathroom after soundcheck and security let's her. But they forget and the light goes out. So as she wanders the arena she runs into Yeosang whose shocked to see someone still around. Etc?

I'm so happy I've actually done soundcheck before so Ik what to write lol. Ok This one will be interesting I hope you like it

sexual intercourse. protected sex yay! MDNI

You run into Yeosang after soundcheck (M) ୨ৎ

You had never felt such immense gratitude toward fate in your life. Somehow, at the very last minute, you managed to score a soundcheck ticket, a miracle in itself. Your laptop had died earlier, a rookie mistake that almost derailed your plans. With no time to waste, you frantically pulled up ticket options on your phone, heart racing, but luck smiled upon you that day.

Finally, the day of the concert arrived. Excitement buzzed in the air as fans gathered outside the venue; the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As the time to enter for soundcheck drew near, you maneuvered through the crowd looking for somewhere to settle. The soundcheck tickets were first-come, first-served, but since you’d managed to grab a P1 ticket for the actual show, you weren’t overly concerned about being right up front. When the doors opened, you found a decent spot, close enough to see the stage clearly. You exchanged stories and excitement with surrounding fans until the lights finally dimmed.

And then they appeared.

Your breath caught in your throat as the eight members of ATEEZ congregated on stage with the effortless swagger that was only theirs. It was surreal.

In that moment, “Wow” reverberated in your mind like a mantra. As they greeted the small crowd, the initial shock wore off, and you found your voice. You sang along to their songs, enamored by their sound and presence. In between songs, they took moments to engage with the fans, creating a warm and personal connection. Everything felt electric—the world outside faded away.

As they began their final song of the soundcheck, you felt a twinge of urgency. With the show set to begin soon, you decided it was absolutely necessary to sneak away and use the bathroom before the crowd thickened again. Remembering a side door you had noticed earlier, you made your way over, hoping it would lead you to relief or at least point you in the right direction.

Pushing through the door, you entered a narrow hallway that seemed to stretch into the shadows. After a sharp turn, you finally spotted the bathroom, and relief washed over you as you rushed inside. Hours of waiting outside had left you desperate.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed as you touched up your makeup and snapped a few selfies in the mirror of your cute outfit; the minutes just slipped away.

When you finally stepped back into the hall, the unexpected enveloping darkness shocked you into stillness. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have feared the dark, but in this unfamiliar territory, anxiety crept in. You had no idea whether you were retracing your steps or venturing deeper into unknown shadows.

After wandering for what felt like an eternity, panic surged as it dawned on you: you were lost. Deciding you had no choice, you rummaged through your purse until you finally located your phone. Flicking on the flashlight, you directed the beam down the hallway, but the moment your light fell on a figure standing just a few feet away, terror surged within you, and a scream escaped your lips.

“Who’s there?” A deep voice echoed from the other end of the corridor.

Before you could comprehend your surroundings, the stranger lunged forward, gripping your forearm and pulling you swiftly into a side room, gently shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced from shock, and in the dim light, you aimed your phone’s flashlight at the stranger’s face, only to stifle a squeak of surprise.

Your breath hitched in your throat as recognition crystallized—it was Kang Yeosang.

Kang Yeosang. And he was right there, touching you.

Internally, you were a whirlwind of excitement and disbelief, but you forced yourself to play it cool. As your mind raced, you heard the unmistakable sounds of a nearby security guard approaching, keys jangling and the crackling of a walkie-talkie piercing through the tension of the moment. Holding your breath, you watched as Yeosang raised a hand to your mouth, gently covering it, while his other finger pressed to his lips in a shushing gesture that felt like both a command and a plea. The guard eventually walked past your hiding place, leaving just the two of you in that small, dimly lit room.

“He would have definitely kicked you out if he found you back here,” Yeosang whispered, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned closer, still straining to listen for any signs of the security guard outside. The tension in the room was thick, a mix of exhilaration and apprehension humming between you.

You nodded, still processing the surrealness of the moment. Here you were, trapped in a small room with one of your idols. His presence was both comforting and utterly disorienting. You could see the concern etched on his face—those sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of your phone’s flashlight. For a fleeting moment, the danger of the situation melted away, replaced instead by a flutter of excitement in your stomach.

Once he felt it was safe, he finally released his hold on you. As you stepped out of his embrace, you could see a mixture of relief and curiosity in his eyes as he took a moment to really look at you.

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to sneak back here; I was just looking for the bathroom,” you explained, your voice softening as you met his gaze.

Yeosang's expression shifted, his eyes brightening with amusement as he took in your flustered demeanor. “The bathroom is actually just down the hallway,” he replied, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “But I can’t say I mind having you here.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. “I wasn’t trying to intrude. I just… got a bit lost,” you admitted, glancing around the cozy room, feeling both embarrassed and a bit shy.

“I'm glad I ran into you. I was lost, too,” Yeosang explained, a hint of relief in his voice. “I left my phone backstage and couldn’t find a light.”

A few moments of quietness pass before you ask, “What were you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the show?”

He chuckled lightly, “I wanted to find somewhere quiet. It’s hectic backstage, and sometimes I like to walk around to calm myself down.”

You nodded in understanding; the chaos of a performance could be overwhelming. “Yeah, I can see how that would help. I guess it’s nice to take a little breather.”

“Exactly,” he said, taking a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “And it’s always better to have company, right?”

His words hung in the air between you, and the soft lighting around you seemed to create an intimate bubble. You noticed how his gaze flickered down to your lips, and your heart raced. You shifted slightly, a little unsure, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken tension.

“Can I…?” he started, words trailing off into silence, and your heart thundered in response. You nodded, unable to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

In that shared moment of understanding, he closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips with his. The kiss was hesitant at first, as if testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, both of you melting into the sudden connection that had been built.

Hands began to roam, fingers tangling in hair and exploring the contours of each other’s sides. Your bodies pressed hotly against one another, the warmth intensifying the electric charge that crackled in the air between you.

In the flurry of passion, you felt clothes shift. You pushing his shirt up to feel his tones chest, him crumpling your skirt up to wrap your thighs around his waist. It was getting heavy really quickly.

“Is this ok?” he asks as he grinds his hips into yours

“Yes” you moan

“Are you sure?” he asked again, breathless. He wanted to be certain you were comfortable.

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. “I’m sure,” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions.

“Then we will have to be quick,” he says.

He pulled a condom from his back pocket, holding it in his mouth while he hastily undid his pants. You turned around and bent over in anticipation, palms flat against the wall, stealing a glance over your shoulder at him.

He took a moment to stroke his length, words of encouragement leaving your lips as you watched him harden. Finally, with deft hands, he ripped open the packet and slid the condom on, ensuring he was ready.

One hand gripped your hips, guiding him as he lined himself up before slowly pressing into you. The sensation was electric, a thrilling blend of pressure and fullness that had you gasping instinctively. Your clothes were bunched up around you, forgotten in the heat of the moment, but you couldn’t care less as Yeosang filled you up over and over again, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You couldnt get enough, you wished you could savor it longer. The need coursing through you was overwhelming, but you were determined to take what you could get. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, building that familiar tightness deep in your core. You knew you were close—just on the edge of release. His groans transformed into deeper, more primal moans, a clear indication that he was nearing his own peak as well.

The tempo quickened, each thrust growing more urgent, more desperate. You couldn't hold on any longer as you felt your release overtake you. He was close behind after a few more slow strokes. He released inside the condom and tied it off. Luckily, he was able to find some random trash bag in the room's corner and dispose of it.

You watched as he adjusted his shirt, your chest still rising and falling with the remnants of your shared moment.

“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them what just happened,” you said, still in a bit of awe, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Good, it will be our little secret,”

[agirlandherquill]

the first "official" snippet

it has been a whirlwind for the last few days, so much has happened, so much needs to be done, and working on the next stage of Ruin's Reprisal is so nerve-racking and so, so exciting that i thought - why not share the very first ten pages, in what i am fairly certain is their final form?

at this stage i'm gradually doing a read through of my draft as an ePub on my kindle (it is insane to be reading this as though it's an actual book) and chapter by chapter, after reading it, i go back through and make any finer adjustments, such as grammatical changes etc - and since i've just done that for the prologue (almost 30 something pages, counting off the top of my head- whew!) i can share these first ten pages with you all!

so, without further ado, here they are!

At first, the world was ours.

Created by the truest being of all, the mother of everything sacred, Mutja-Har, my people were divine blessings upon the land, people bestowed with gifts unlike any other. But we grew idle - over time, we became greedy. Every story that I have read tells of a great voyage to a vast continent - I believe it was no voyage, but a retreat, after Mutja-Har’s scorn blighted the land and forced us out in shame for an act history has long since forgotten. But it turns out that this continent was not for the taking. The land was already inhabited by non-blessed folk, who have had many names over the years, but in my lifetime, they were Alirians.

And because of this strange newfound need to coexist, the Haelish had to learn to share. They had to change their ways, their language. They were forced to adapt, they were forced to change, almost completely.

The blessed became humble - well, humbler. They established themselves, due to their riches, as an aristocracy, founded themselves a Noble Court and claimed territory, even if the country was not their own. 

The Haelish were rulers once more. And so they remained, for many years. Preserving their ways, their lives, their bloodlines, everything was sacred. Everything was perfect.

Until one day, a day meant for the union of powerful families set to rule Aliria forevermore. But instead of unity, there was calamity. There was murder.

And for the first time in history, the Haelish found themselves bidding farewell to peace. In its place, they welcomed the title of Exilza.

Exile.

Me.

I believed I was the first. To break the rules. To go against tradition - Even if I was innocent of my crime - But it turns out that I was wrong. Instead of one, there were three.

But for now, for the start of this tale, let us focus on me.

The morning of my doom, and the eve of who I used to be. 

After all, who doesn’t enjoy a wedding?

~ ~ ~

How far would it take for me to fall to my death? To escape? All I want is for things to be different. For things to change.

Change. Now that is something I have never understood at all.

What does it take for a life to change? A moment? A day? A choice? Or perhaps, does it come down to having no choice at all?

This wedding was to usher in a new era for the country, for the people. Both Alirian and Haelish. But choice had never factored into it, not for her at least. She did not decide the path her life would take. She did not choose to wake up before the dawn. She had not chosen to be shuttered away in her room, biding her time. Her only saving grace was the window.

And she had it wide open.

Sunlight flickered through, bathing the room in warm light. Pale blue drapes floated in the wind, wrapping around her as she leaned against the window frame, deep in thought. In the light, visible specks of dust floated without a care, moving freely - they were free. 

Free, the word sounded like nothing more than a listless dream, it was a concept utterly unknown to her. Edeva stretched out her hand to touch a speck, driven by curiosity. Once it brushed past her fingers she grew bored, breathed out a tired sigh and returned her attention to the open window, a faint smile on her face. 

At least if this morning is my final one of normality, it’s a pretty one. 

The rising sun painted the Palace in a flattering light. The walls glistened, the perfectly carved stone reflected the sunlight whilst towering over the landscape. Down below, she could see the silhouettes of servants rushing to and from the courtyard, resembling very lost children. A sweet-smelling gust of wind drifted in through the window. Taking a delicate sniff, her body relaxed. Lavender. Its pleasantly distinct scent in the air comforted her. As the start of the day drew on, she found herself savouring every small comfort possible, even if it was something so simple as a scent. I have to enjoy what I can before I’m too busy to do otherwise. Life’ll be unbearable without my memories, as Mama always tells me. 

“Conteis Edeva?” A small voice echoed at the door, making her jump. Edeva decided to delay answering, wanting to savour her moment by the window once more. Her back was to the door, favouring the view of the window’s panorama to that of the furniture indoors, so she was unable to see the face of the speaker as they opened the door. “Conteis?” The voice spoke a second time, along with a few gentle knocks. Giving up protecting her peaceful daydream, Edeva tore herself from the window, tilting her body to the door. Is it time already? It feels too soon. Far, far too soon. She let out a slow exhale to steady her mind before answering. “Come in.” Do not. Stay away. Let me have these last few moments to myself. But it was too late. The words had been said.

Weddings. The word rotted in her mouth. Pompous events acknowledging what? A transaction? An exchange of words? They have nothing to do with love. Nothing to do with me. And here I am, the bride to be. She grimaced. High-Mother, Mutja-Har, give me strength. Praying in Alirian was not enough, she needed the High-Mother, the Haelish faithful touch, to give her the strength to get through the day.

The door opened further, granting the person access to the room. A petite maid entered, brandishing a joyful smile on her face - one Edeva wished to bottle up and express herself because she lacked the energy to form one of her own - she recognised the girl as one of her mother’s personal servants. Maidens, I believe she calls them. Though I fail to recall this one’s name, it’s a pity. She could not even bring herself to try to remember. No sense in making any friends that I’ll have to leave behind. 

The girl was soon followed by five others, of varying ages and appearances, each carrying an extravagant bundle or box of something she did not care to see. “It’s time my lady.” The first girl offered her a kind smile, holding out a hand as she gestured to the chair at the nearby vanity. With a slightly exaggerated sigh, Edeva took a seat. Time for what? The last moments of my freedom? Or to fulfil my duty? She struggled to find the courage to make polite conversation, settling on smiling occasionally as the women hurried around the room. Through the mirror’s reflection, she watched them curiously, taking in their excited smiles as they looked at her every so often. They’re far more excited about this than I will ever be. It’s a shame, really. 

She settled into the chair, deciding to let them get to work.

A short while later, she was covered in fine powder, the dust cloud made her cringe. Are they trying to offer me the small mercy of death by choking me beforehand? She laughed silently to herself. As a Maiden brushed her hair through, Edeva wondered over what the day would bring. She continued to wonder, squirming involuntarily as her locks were twisted and tugged into order, secured by a few glistening pins. 

She tilted her chin up, taking a second to examine their handiwork. She had expected more but the powder was all that sat on her face. The fine dusting had hidden the sickly pallor of her cheeks, but in her mind, it was nothing more than a clever trick to hide her unease and enhance the one thing people always adored the most: beauty. Not that the powder contained any magical properties as she had expected, no cheating ways to alter her appearance. It doesn’t matter, she thought dryly, What I think doesn’t mean a thing. She forced a smile onto her face, testing the legitimacy of its appearance in her reflection. She had to hide her horror at seeing the smile appear all too natural. Edeva glanced over her shoulder to the women who were occupied with smoothing out a dress on her bed. 

“May I have a moment to myself?”

The Maidens looked at her, flashing encouraging and knowing smiles before they scattered.

They think I’m nervous. That’s ridiculous, She sighed heavily at the thought, I’ve never been nervous a day in my life. I’m just exhausted with all of this, and the main part of the day hasn’t even begun. High-Mother give me strength, I need time to get my head together. 

She turned back to the vanity, raising a lazy hand to her temple as she studied herself in the mirror. If this is my last day as myself, I want to look my best. Besides, Mama wouldn’t reprimand me, she reminded herself, I do need to take some pride in my appearance, even today. She reached for an old friend, a case of brushes, paints, and powders set by purposefully on the side of the vanity. With careful concentration, she got to work.

Once she was done, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. The lids of her eyes were now slightly smudged in silver, a nod to her family’s colours. Her cheeks were slightly pinker, giving a more dramatic effect against her skin. She let her gaze abandon the blueness of her eyes, moving up to see the work her hair had undergone.

The stark, unmissable whiteness of her hair contrasted everything in the room, as it always did. Most of her hair had been braided into a bun, while other stray strands hung loosely by her face. It looks nice, she thought. She smiled again, though it failed to quite reach her eyes. Today has to happen. I have to go through with this, for everyone’s sake. The words felt like a lie even as she thought them. She slumped back in her chair with a sigh. If Mama walked in now… She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why am I here? Really? Simply because I have no other choice? The thought pained her. She struggled to answer her own questions. Edeva stood, dragging herself to the bed where her outfit for the ceremony had been draped out. The Maidens would still be absent for a few more minutes, which relieved her, because she enjoyed changing in peace. She discarded her robe on the floor and slipped into the dress, not forgetting to slip her feet into the shoes waiting at the foot of the bed.

Without a second thought, she moved herself over to the full-length mirror that stood proudly beside the window. I might as well take a look at the monstrosity I’m being forced to wear as I seal my fate, she thought bitterly, taking in her outfit. The dress was made of white silk, the finest that money could buy, covered in blue ruffles, lace bows and long skirts, ones that weighed down her body in an uncomfortable manner. The accents of the dress bothered her. They’re blue, not silver. 

The dress honoured a family, but not hers. 

Blue was the Alirian Court’s signature colour - those of the royal family. 

The gown was a stranger, and certainly not the one she had dreamt of. It was not the one she had chosen. But then again, every choice she had made about the wedding so far had been ignored, why should her own attire be any different? She sighed at herself, the smile she wore matched the dress. Lies. Masks. All to please everyone but her.

She buried her hands in her skirts, lifting them enough to catch a glimpse of the shoes that threatened to cut off her circulation. She could not help but grimace. Her slippers were made of glass. If I’m lucky, they’ll shatter and stop me from walking.As much as she fancied the idea, something else broke instead. Her peaceful isolation. The Maidens returned. They strained to see over one another, hovering in the doorway. A chorus of “Oohs” and “Aahs” gave her a strong urge to rip out her hair. She did not feel like herself, but deep down she already knew she would never feel like that again. Not if she went through with the wedding.

The Maidens’ attention broke away from her, looking down the corridor as though they were being summoned, and Edeva did not doubt it. It’s a busy day for everyone. With a chorus of gasps, they rushed off, leaving the door to close on its own. 

She studied her face once more in the mirror. The blue of her eyes seemed different, she suspected that they were darker because of the clouded turmoil stirring in her veins with each passing moment. This day was not her dream, it was a nightmare.

Briefly, the turmoil was surpassed by relief. 

If the Maidens were rushing off, it meant she still had time. Time to see Mama, she will know what to do about all of this, about me. Edeva hesitated, glaring at her slippers. The moment that she returned, she planned to get rid of them, but for now, she had to go.

She hovered in front of the door, thinking of a plan.

Two guards would be stationed outside, as usual. She needed to get past them without a fuss. It was only a matter of how. Edeva opened the door, sticking her head out to smile at the two gentlemen assigned to her protection. They wore embroidered blue suits, a much more regal look than that of a typical Guardsman uniform. They’re going to be front and centre at the ceremony, it seems I’m not the only one who needs to look my best.

“Good day gentlemen, I’m just going to visit my mother,” She pressed a hand to her throat, laughing nervously, “It’s bridal nerves you see. I won’t be long.” She put on a girlish giggle as she stepped out of her room, even if doing so made her internally retch.

“My lady, you really should stay inside until it’s time.” The guard to her left sounded uncertain, looking at his counterpart with caution. The other guard remained silent, the only sign of his annoyance remained in the narrowing of his eyes as he looked her over, almost as if he was searching for an ulterior motive. Edeva held the sweet smile on her face, engaging in further conversation with the more social of the two. “I won’t leave the Palace, don’t worry. But I think I’d like to see my mother now, and as I said, I won’t be long.”

She moved past them, hitching up her dress to give herself further room to walk, whilst ensuring that she kept her strides quick and steady, hastening along the corridor. Behind her, the guards spluttered their objections, all of which she ignored. They can’t follow me. They’ve been ordered to remain right there. No-one else needs to know that I ever left my room. It seems getting past them wasn’t so difficult after all. She sighed in relief as she rounded the corner from her room’s more private corridor, moving into a longer one adjoining the rest of the Palace. Now, Mama ought to be in the West Wing, which isn’t far away, thank the High-Mother. Edeva set off, determined to have a talk with her before the time came for her life to change, and for her opinions to die alongside it.

* * * * *

The Palace staircases were as grand as they were tall. A chandelier watched over the stairs, coating each step with a slither of light that made the marble appear less straining on the eyes, and almost welcoming. The gentle feel very nearly tricked her body into thinking the Palace was just as warm, but the sharp pain in her feet made her know better. Each step sent minuscule daggers of pain tearing at her skin. The first chance I get, I am shattering these blasted things.She found a moment of respite on a landing. 

“Who in their right mind would create something like these?” Edeva spoke aloud, mumbling to herself. She had had enough. The slippers came off with ease, to her relief, as she freed her feet from the confines of the glass cage. The coldness of the floor numbed her soles, rendering them immune to further pain as she continued her trek to the upper floor of the Palace’s Western Wing.

The stairs seemed to melt into the carpeted floor, giving way to a familiar corridor. Edeva approached the first door on the right, letting herself in. 

Mama’s quarters feel larger than I remember. She noted, taking in the rooms. The parlour was a respectable size, furnished with the typical necessities - the only thing that stuck out to Edeva was the blue chaise that took up the centre of everything. And lounging upon it was the woman Edeva had come to see.

Mama. 

The smell of lavender greeted her. Aldora Vitaire held a powerful and yet gentle countenance about her, and it made Edeva wonder, How did a woman like her manage to ensnare the great Conteir Cordell, who lowers himself to no-one? He’s fearless. Except when he’s around her. You would think the titles were the other way around - she has none by birthright and he does. As do I. 

The thought of titles saddened her with the reminder of her ancestral home. I wish I was back there again, but I can’t be. I’m here, She cleared her head of nostalgic thoughts and returned her attention to her mother. She looked lost in a dream, gazing at the ceiling with a distant smile on her face. Edeva could see so much of herself in her, the eyes, the posture, many parts of her and her father made up who she was. Except for the hair. Neither her mother or father had hair quite like it. No-one had ever been able to explain it, but Edeva accepted her hair just as she did every other part of herself.

 Studying her mother’s dreamy gaze, sadness tugged at her heartstrings. The dreamily distant gaze had grown more visible with the passing weeks. As powerful as she is, it isn’t enough. Her mind’s slipping away, slowly. And lately, it’s been getting worse. None of the healers have been able to help.

“Mama?” Edeva spoke softly, kneeling down by the chaise. 

“Is it time already?” Aldora slowly turned her head, letting out a sigh. 

Edeva placed a hand on her mother’s arm, smiling. “Not quite yet, I just needed to see you.”

“Edeva, is that you?” Her blue eyes examined every inch of her face, gently questioning with a single look.

“Yes, it’s me, Mama.” She stared at her mother’s eyes patiently, watching recognition gradually lighten her irises. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. “Edeva. My sweet, sweet girl.” Aldora reached for an item resting in her lap, a necklace, one Edeva recognised. White chain, silver jewels adorning a crystal pendant - this is her most treasured piece of jewellery. She glanced at her mother, brows furrowed in confusion. “Mama?”

“This will look lovely on you my dear.” Aldora patted her hand, sitting up on the chaise. Edeva held still as she clasped the necklace around her neck. She reached up to touch the pendant, clutching it gently. “Mama, I couldn’t, this is yours.”

Aldora tutted, giving her shoulder a fond pat. “And now it is yours. It suits you.” She could see the small twinkle in her mother’s blue eyes. She had inherited them from her, and the crystal pendant very nearly presented an identical colour when it caught the light just right, sitting at the base of her throat. She stared at the crystal, inhaling slowly to gather herself.

The time has come. I can’t put this off any longer. “I need to ask you something.”

Her mother’s gaze had changed, subtly, but Edeva knew enough by now to notice the difference. She’s gone again. 

“It’s not just a necklace, you know. Crystals know things.” Her words were so quiet that Edeva only just caught them.

“Not just a necklace?” She repeated carefully, lifting the necklace from her neck. She rubbed her thumb over the crystal. “It’s only a crystal Mama, nothing more, though it is lovely.” Aldora’s hand suddenly touched her cheek, cupping it with gentle fingers. “Edeva. Everything will be all right, this is for the best my dear. For you. For everyone.”

“But what if I don’t…” Her weak protest trailed off, her throat choking up. I never wanted this day. I’ve been putting it off for so long, praying against it, and it’s here. All too soon. Edeva cleared her throat. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”

Aldora gave her a knowing smile, tipping her chin up with her index finger. “You are a Vitaire. You will know what to do when the time is right. You can do whatever you set your mind to. Vitaires do not fall. We stand. And we stay standing. As will you.” Edeva threw her arms around her mother, swallowing a sob. The older woman patted her back affectionately.  “Thank you.” She took a shaking deep breath. “I know I should want this… But I don’t.” She pulled away from her mother’s warm embrace. “I-I can’t do this.”

Aldora took Edeva’s hand, putting it against the pendant, her fingers making her hold it.“In all the eighteen years of your life, I knew there would never again be someone as strong as you. You need to use that strength now my child. You can do this. Let the High-Mother guide you.” Edeva’s fingers tightened around the pendant with such force a part of her feared it would break.

“Come along Edeva, it’s time now.” Her mother offered her a gentle smile, though Edeva did not miss the way it failed to reach her eyes, as her own so often did.

Reluctantly, Edeva pulled on her slippers, once more the glass threatened to crush her feet. Fearful of her legs buckling beneath her, she found herself taking her mother’s arm.

It’s time then, time for the ceremony, time to say goodbye to myself, and to life as I know it.

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list!

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies

[enquiringangel]

Sacrilege [David/Michael]

(cw: angst, unhealthy relationships, religious themes, misrepresentation of religions, blasphemy, etc. Vampires being vampirey (so, blood and gore). No actual smut but not worksafe. Somewhat dark.)

-x-

The last time Michael had set foot in a church was for his grandmother’s funeral years before. He’d been eleven. He couldn’t recall any time before that, though there must have been one – a Christening or a wedding or something. But then, his parents never were big on religion. Him neither, and he still wasn’t, but desperation had a funny way of making a person into a believer.  

There was no one here this time of night. Michael’s muffled footsteps on the carpeted aisle between the pews seemed deafening, and the stained-glass windows were black and lifeless. Dawn was still hours away. Michael eyed the shadowy form hanging on the cross for a moment, before turning away. He took off his leather jacket and folded it into a pillow as he lay down on one of the pews. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work the moment he'd crossed the threshold and hadn’t burst into flames. All the same he tensed at the sound of approaching engines, at the whooping voices and raucous laughter from outside. A headlamp glanced by one of the windows and illuminated a sad-faced saint in the glass.  

‘Michael.’ Their voices whispered to him. ‘Michael.’ 

Michael closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. He didn’t bother to get up – there was no point running. There never was. He remained lying on the hard wood of the pew even as the doors creaked on their hinges. As they swung inwards, the rumble of engines idling grew louder, and when he cracked open his eyes he could see a shadowed silhouette backlit by the headlights stretching up the aisle to cover the altar. Then the doors closed and there was only darkness, darkness and the jangle of David’s spurs as he approached. 

David came to stand beside him, the skin all over Michael’s body tingling with the awareness of his closeness. Reluctantly, Michael lifted his head from his makeshift pillow and looked up at him, weary.  

David remained silent, watching him. His mouth was curled in a faint smirk—Caught you, again those lips seemed to say—but the look in his eyes was one of bitter disappointment.  

“Budge up,” he said finally.  

Trying to ignore him in the hope he might go away had never worked, and trying to avoid going along with what David wanted was ultimately useless. Sure you could resist at first, could stand as steadfast as a rock in the middle of a raging torrent, but over time he’d eventually wear you down.  

Michael was feeling particularly worn down these days. He moved over without argument.  

“You know,” David began conversationally as he plucked a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. “My folks were Catholic. Went to mass every Sunday, confessed away their many sins. Never did either of them a blind bit of good. Or me. You thinking of converting or...?” He eyed Michael reproachfully as he blew smoke through his nose.  

“You know why I came here,” Michael replied sourly. “I was hoping there might be something to it, like the holy water.” 

David hummed in agreement. “Shame for you that I can go anywhere I want and no god's gonna stop me. I don’t know why holy water burns, but he’s got nothing to do with it. You could get one of these chicks with the crystals and the pentagrams to bless a glass of water in the name of the moon goddess and it’ll still burn us. But this—” He gestured around them. “Is just an empty building.” 

“Noted,” Michael replied dryly. “Next time I want some space I’ll drop in on a bunch of those Wicca chicks.” 

“Mm, you’ll have to time it so you catch them doing one of their naked rituals. They might even let you join in.” He nudged Michael with his elbow, then, after taking another drag, offered him the cigarette. 

Michael took it without hesitation. “You could just let me go,” he pointed out, watching smoke curl towards the ceiling.  

David’s eyes flashed yellow. He leant in and ran his tongue up the side of Michael’s cheek, catching on a day’s worth of five o’ clock shadow. “Never.” 

A tight smile spread across Michael’s lips. Of course not. 

“I don’t know where you think you’ll go anyway,” David mused, breath cool on the damp streak he’d left behind. “It’s not like you’ve got anyone else left.” 

Michael snarled, fangs descending and the world growing sharper and tinted red at the edges. “No thanks to you!” 

“You started it Michael,” David reminded him, as he always did when the topic came up. You started this when you almost got Marko killed. What happened to your family was just payback. I’m grateful to the old fart for getting rid of Max though. 

Michael loathed him. Oh, so much. He loathed the way David looked at him, he loathed the way that he said Michael’s name. And how he loathed the way David made him feel. 

But not half as much as he loathed himself. 

As always, the sight of Michael surrendering to his bloodlust made David smile. There’s my boy his dancing eyes seemed to say, and Michael couldn’t stand it. He snarled and lunged for David’s throat, clamping his teeth down hard enough that cartilage crunched beneath his jaws and cool blood drenched his face. When he jerked his head away there was a hunk of flesh still caught between his teeth and blood hissed out of the hole as David laughed at him. Michael spat it out and bent down to lap at the wound greedily. David’s blood was the only blood he had ever drank, and despite all the vampire’s attempts to cajole him otherwise, he would keep it that way.  

The two of them wrestled for a bit, pews being overturned and knocked against the walls. As was usual when they fought, David let him have the upper hand for a while because he found it funny, then swiftly knocked him down a few pegs.  

Michael soon found himself with his back pinned to the floor and David’s teeth in his throat, the both of them groaning in pleasure. Whenever David bit him it was like his mouth was attached to every nerve in his body, fire spreading from the bite outwards until he was consumed by it. Michael writhed against him, desperately hard. Fuck.  

David lifted his head, lips crimson as he brought them to Michael’s, licking into his mouth. His claws scraped Michael’s hips as he tugged his jeans down his legs, stopping only to pull off Michael’s sneakers before tossing the whole bundle – shoes, pants, underwear – off over his shoulder somewhere.  

“Now Michael, be good for me,” he said, cleaning his own blood off Michael’s face with his tongue. He smirked mockingly up at the cross. 

“We’ve got an audience.” 

[bleachonmyskinnyjeanz]

About Me (o . O)

uhhhh hi im chelsea (or olliver) WeLcOme 2 mY bLooGg

;; ´ཀ` ;; bday is 7/04/02 so i am an adult and do not want any minors speaking to me,, so yeah.

;; ´ཀ` ;; i am a gay man nd have been with my boyfriend Alex since 4/20/19 :)

;; ´ཀ` ;; my pronouns r he/him, i also like it/its but only from other trans people. ey/em/eirs also works

;; ´ཀ` ;; im autistic nd bipolar

;; ´ཀ` ;; current piercings: 25mm lobes, 00g septum, both nostrils, angel bites, shark bites, bridge, tongue

;; ´ཀ` ;; retired piercings: navel, cheeks, second lobes, smiley

;; ´ཀ` ;; what you might find here: original posts, my own photos and edits, original moodboards, my writing, selfies, collections, reblogged aesthetic posts and textposts, lyrics

;; ´ཀ` ;; what you will not find here: memes, textposts including politics, psas, and similar things

instagram:

https://instagram.com/xx_green.m0nsta

;; ✘ ;; interests: body mods- scarification, tattoos, piercings, stretching, play piercings, suspension, implants, surgeries...etc, forensics, witchcraft, the paranormal, emo/scene culture, cosmetology, horror, nintendo, 00s tech, rpgmaker games, audio systems, physical media, dvds & cds, robotics, canids, herps, movies, shoes (converse, vans, DCs, osiris, toms, bobs, uggs), xbox 360, halloween, fashion, good scents, html{rulez d00d}, fonts, invertebrates, more?

;; ♫ ;; fav artists: bmth, escape the fate, early FIR, from autumn to ashes, veil of maya, oceano, whitechapel, suicide silence, chelsea grin, carnifex, early MIW, hawthorne heights, greeley estates, vanna, paramore, from first to last, too close to touch, being as an ocean, lil wayne, of mice & men, beartooth, attack attack!, the amity affliction, asking alexandria, dot dot curve, hail the sun, kendrick lamar, oceans ate alaska, the plot in you, the devil wears prada, chiodos, saosin, attila, landon tewers, a day to remember, kid cudi, thy art is murder, alesana, parkway drive, norma jean, isles & glaciers, vocaloid, slipknot, la dispute, blessthefall, emmure, seeyouspacecowboy, Silverstein, underoath, a skylit drive, architects, killwhitneydead, trippie redd more..........

;; ✘ ;; movies: evil dead 2013, jennifers body, idle hands, ginger snaps, freddy vs. jason, coraline, 28 days later, dog soldiers, silent hill, resident evil: afterlife, final destination 3, paranorman, the munsters, trick r treat, the lords of salem, terrifier (series), twilight, sucker punch, zombieland, shaun of the dead, train to busan, evil dead 2, dead alive, dawn of the dead 2004, the house that jack built, black swan, sleepy hollow, sleepaway camp, beetlejuice, corpse bride, may, vampires suck, evil dead rise, jumanji, small soldiers, the texas chainsaw massacre, the bride of chucky, no country for old men, halloween, pans labyrinth, tales from the darkside, slither, ringu, the descent, dont be afraid of the dark, legion, quarantine, renfield, frankenweenie, hellboy franchise, ju-on/the grudge, pokemon: the rise of darkrai, nightmare before christmas, invader zim: enter the florpus!

;; ✘ ;; shows: gravity falls, death note, my little pony, the walking dead, my babysitter's a vampire, breaking bad, sabrina the teenage witch, the originals, nyanpire, lenore the cute little dead girl, the grim adventures of billy & mandy, adventure time, regular show, teen titans (go), courage the cowardly dog, spongebob squarepants, forensic files, law and order: svu, sons of anarchy, ash vs. the evil dead, buffy the vampire slayer, teen wolf, clarence, invader zim, pokemon, assassination classroom, mirai nikki, rick and morty, the simpsons (treehouse of horror)

;; ✘ ;; kins: garry (ib), L (death note), marceline/marshall lee (adventure time), robbie valentino (gravity falls), sebastian (stardew valley), mordecai (regular show), ghoulia yelps (monster high), lobo (animal crossing), mavis (hotel transylvania), zoe (left4dead), vinyl scratch+pinkie pie+princess luna (my little pony), zommer (moshi monsters), ash williams (evil dead), brown coat zombie (pvz), bubbles (powerpuff girls)

;; ✘ ;; games: left4dead, left4dead 2, plants vs zombies, viva pinata franchise, ib, the witch's house, mad father, corpse party, webkinz, stardew valley, mario kart, moshi monsters, moviestarplanet, town of salem, sally face, wolfquest, borderlands, minecraft, halo, sonic & sega all-stars racing, animal crossing: wild world, fallout new vegas, skyrim, the sims 2 & 3, dead island, saints row 2, gears of war, batman arkham asylum, pokefarm, wolvden, more. i dont really play games much anymore bc it stresses me out.

;; ✘ ;; IDs & more: zombiekin, ghostkin, vampirekin, werewolfkin, & various therian ids. kins/ids vary between psychological, spiritual & delusional. also a pagan witch (not wiccan) i work with hades & im a death, river, eclectic witch. i have a cat named finn & a beagle named stella

not asexual but I don't like sexual visuals or pictures of people in overly sexual outfits, think bimbo core lol. i have no issue with it! I'm just weird. and gay

more 2 be added later when i remember

[gubler-me-up]

Early Dawn Kisses (MGG request)

Request: so hi 😊 if you’re still taking requests, i keep thinking about mornings with mgg (it’s the quarantine thirst making me wayyy too soft). idk if you do specifics, but something w/ a reader of color? anyway love you 💖

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! Omg I was so excited to see a request specifically for a poc fem!reader as I am a black girl, so it brings me joy giving people the chance to see themselves in story narratives. To clarify to everyone, whenever I write requests I try not to specify hair colour, skin colour, height, weight, etc. unless I have to or it’s requested. I want all my readers to see themselves in whatever I write ❤️ I tried to make the readers race as broad as possible, so any poc you are will fit into the narrative! Enjoy!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/POC Fem!Reader

Category: The purest of fluffs

Content warning: Nothing, just pure wholesome fluff

Word count: 1.1k

NOTE: Y/H/L=Your homeland 

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

You felt your body rock as you tried to go back to sleep. You were so tired from the day before. Your parents had come over to meet Matthew for the first time. To say you were nervous was an understatement.

The whole day you had been worried about what your family would think of Matthew and vice versa. Whenever you talked to them they reassured you they already loved him if he made you as happy as you sounded. They never particularly cared as to what race your boyfriend was, but them meeting each other still made you a little anxious.

When Matthew and you started dating you had brought him out to eat your traditional cultural cuisine at a few of your favourite spots. It shocked you to find out he had been to majority of those places before. He said he loved the food and the culture. He even took a private vacation there once because he wanted to experience the culture first hand.

You were glad he loved your culture so much and you as well. You don’t think you’ve ever dated someone outside your race who appreciated and understood your culture as much as he did. It made life way easier for both of you.

When your parents had come over, he helped them bring in the dishes they had brought. Your mom always cooked as if she was feeding the whole family every time even though it was just the four of you having dinner. When Matthew complimented how delicious everything smelled and looked, your mom’s eyes glimmered in joy. Seeing that moment calmed you down immediately.

The whole dinner was such an amazing experience for you. Matthew was intrigued by your parents talking about their lives back home. He told them how he had visited there a few years ago and all the places he had explored. It was as if a lightbulb had sparked in your parents when he said that. They asked him how he enjoyed his time and what his favourite places were.

The conversation soon turned into the topic of the love between you and Matthew. Before you could tell them anything, Matthew chimed in to say how amazing you were and how he felt as if he could be himself around you. Your parents smiled as they listened to him gush over you. Even your dad looked as if he was gaining an extremely soft spot for Matthew and he was a tough one to break.

By the end of the night, you didn’t want them to leave. You felt so full of happiness as all four of you talked for hours. It was something you were expecting to be awkward and drawn out, but ended up exceeding your expectations by a mile.

“Y/N, wake up,” you heard Matthew say.

You finally opened your eyes as you saw him standing next to you with his arm shaking you awake. You blinked a few times to focus your vision as the light from the sun was slowly creeping into the blinds of the room you shared. You leaned yourself up as you let out an early morning yawn. You looked over to the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:50 a.m.

“Matt, it’s a Saturday. Why are you up before noon?” You asked him.

“So we can watch the sunrise together,” he said.

“Why?” You asked.

“Well, remember what your parents told us?” He asked

You shrugged. “They say a lot of things, so you have to clarify which one you’re referring to.”

He smiled as he pulled you up out of bed. You unwillingly got up as your limbs lazily stretched away the sleep out of you. He then took your hand as he led you to the balcony. He opened the door and escorted you out to the two chairs he set up for the both of you. You could see a bouquet of pink ranunculus flowers on your chair.

“Okay, now I’m really confused. Am I missing something?” You asked.

“Well, remember that story your parents told us last night? When they were back in their hometown and they would go outside at dawn to watch the sunrise together, so they could start their day off with a kiss?” He explained as he walked you over to your seat.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I thought we could do the same thing. See what made it so special for them.”

You could feel your heart melt as he told you his plan. He really took the time to listen to your parents ramble about their young love back when they first started dating back home. As you removed the flowers from your seat, you spotted two tickets to Y/H/L.

You looked up at Matthew on the verge of tears. You hadn’t been back home in forever and he knew that. You leaped into his arms and gave him an enormous, grateful hug.

“You know you outdo yourself whenever I think you can’t get any better,” you said into his chest.

He rubbed your back. “I thought it would be great for us to visit together. I would love to experience Y/H/L with you.”

You looked up at him. “That would be amazing.”

He smiled down at your you as your skin literally glowed from the sun rising. The sun kissing your bronze skin made you feel warm on the outside, but on the inside it was Matthew’s love for you that set you on fire.

He looked over to where the sun was peaking up behind the trees which barricaded the house. He looked back down at you before leaning in to give you that kiss he promised. That kiss your parents talked about. Now you understood exactly why they stayed married for all these years.

As you two parted from the kiss, your eyes stayed locked on each other. You felt blessed to be in his presence and the love he radiated for you. He showed off a toothy grin before leaning in one more time to give you a peck on the lips.

“I love you so much, Y/N. It’s unreal.”

“I love you too. I can’t wait to do this with you again.”

“I hope to do it with you for many years to come.”

With that you both took your respective seats and watched as the sun continued to rise. You both held hands with each other, slowly becoming lost in the sun’s rays. At that moment nothing mattered and the two of you were the only ones in your realm of pure bliss.

—–

MASTERLIST

[kurokoros]

spider lily | part one

Rated: M (violence, language, etc)

Words: 7K

Pairing: kuroo x fem!reader/oc?

Summary: No one can outrun the past. Kuroo already knew that before he started bounty hunting. [cowboy bebop!au]

AN: Written for the @the-smut-pile​’s western!au collab. This is barely a western, but the word “cowboy” is used so it counts. This fic is going to be multiple parts. The romance doesn’t come in for a while, just a heads up. I’m sure there’s more I meant to say here, but my brain is mush. I wrote most of this in the last three days and need a nap lmao

The dealer is watching him.

Eyes burn into his back as the bartender sets another glass of whiskey in front of Kuroo. In the mirror above the bar, Kuroo watches as one of the players, a middle-aged man with a cigar, requests another card. The dealer flips the card, revealing a Jack, and the man curses. A bust.

The dealer ignores the seething player, a look of boredom on his face. He’s thin, his hair parted to the right. Early twenties at best, but his eyes are tired and apathetic as they start to wander around the room.

It’s subtle. The dealer’s gaze doesn’t linger on Kuroo for long—it almost doesn’t linger at all, a stutter in that smooth glance around the room. If he wasn’t waiting for it, he might have missed it. But Kuroo has been painfully obvious tonight, making a show out of staring in that mirror every time a new card is drawn before making his move. It was bound to catch someone’s attention eventually. He just thought it would be sooner.

Kuroo spins the blackjack chip in front of him. White and turquoise blur together as the piece of ceramic whirls around on its edge. Gold glints under the dim lights above him.

A waitress passes the blackjack table behind him. The dealer glances at her. His mouth moves. His chin dips towards the bar where Kuroo is sitting.

“Kuroo.” Static crackles in his ear. His fingers twitch, seizing around the still spinning poker chip. It comes to an abrupt halt. Topples onto its side. With a sigh, he rests his elbow on the counter, props his chin up on his palm, and brings his drink to his mouth. “Anything?”

The whiskey burns in the back of his throat. “Not yet,” he says under his breath, glancing at the bartender to make sure he’s distracted. His fingers brush against the studs in his ear, following the steel bar attached to one of them until he reaches the attached earbud.

A disgruntled sound buzzes through the miniature speaker in his ear. “Then what are we wasting our time here for?” Tsukishima demands. The words aren’t minced, irritation mixed with his typical haughty tone.

“Getting bored out there, Kei?” Kuroo asks the younger man, keeping his tone light and amused. He specifically uses his first name, goading him. “I told you to come inside earlier. You still can. Unless you’d prefer to sit in the ship and sulk.” He takes another drink. “Besides, haven’t I told you to be patient?”

Tsukishima is silent on the other end.

The lapse in conversation stretches out. Kuroo’s gaze trails away from the card table behind him as he seeks out the rest of his crew in the reflection of the mirror over the bar. They’re still waiting where he left them, on opposite sides of the gambling floor. Akaashi is tucked close to the back wall, nursing his own drink and casually watching a game of poker, making no move to play himself like Kuroo has in the hour they’ve been here already. On the other end of the room, Bokuto is eyeing one of the card tables, starting to wander away from the slot machines and naturally gravitate towards the center of the room where a larger game of poker is being played. The prize pool has been steadily growing, attracting more attention as the night wears on.

They just have to wait a little longer for their target to show.

Eventually, Tsukishima huffs. “How do you even know Ikeda will be here tonight? He’s running. There’s no point in going to a high-traffic casino.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow at the snappish tone, but he decides to let it slide for now. “Source said he’s headed this way,” he reminds Tsukishima. “You don’t come this close to Titan without stopping by Blue Castle. Not with a pool like that on the line.” He glances at the table Bokuto has been eyeing. “It’s up to a couple hundred grand already. He’s desperate for cash. Places like this don’t ask questions. Don’t give a shit so long as the house keeps winning.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

He shrugs, gaze wandering away from Bokuto. “Guess we’re fucked for a while.”

Tsukishima snorts. “How reassuring.”

Movement catches Kuroo’s eye in the corner of the mirror before he can ready a retort. There’s a man with dark hair shoving his way through the crowd of people gathered on the gambling floor. No, not shoving. The crowd is parting for him, scurrying out of his way as he storms across the room. Expression set in a scowl. A scowl that’s locked on Kuroo’s back.

Right on time.

He drops his hand from his face, sitting up straighter on the stool as the man comes closer. “Seems like security is finally coming to get me,” he tells Tsukishima off-handedly, abruptly ending the conversation. “Oh, and tell Kou to stop eyeing that table. His poker face is shit.”

Tsukishima pauses, like he wants to ask Kuroo what he’s talking about, but decides it’s simply not worth the effort. A grumbled response eventually comes over the radio, but Kuroo has already stopped listening. Low static buzzes in his ear as Tsukishima switches channels on his headset.

For once, he’s glad for Tsukishima’s lack of interest, though it isn’t bound to last long.

Kuroo grins into his drink as the man drops onto the stool beside him not a moment later. “About time someone got you, Iwa.” He tilts his head to the side, lazy gaze meeting a familiar stern expression. Green eyes glare back at him, and his smile widens. “I was about to bring the house down.”

A snort. “Like hell I’d let you walk away with that much,” Iwaizumi tells him. The tension in his clenched jaw loosens, but the scowl stays, and it doesn’t make him look any less disheveled. His clothes are rumpled. Shirt buttoned haphazardly; the sleeves rolled up. Iwaizumi jerks his chin towards the chip Kuroo has gone back to idly toying with in his free hand. “What are you up to anyway? Hundred thousand?”

He leans forward to look past Kuroo and braces his elbows on the counter, gesturing to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Two,” Kuroo corrects, glancing at his acquaintance. “What can I say? I’ve always had good luck.”

That gets him a chuckle. Though, it’s more disbelieving than amused. “Bullshit.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Counting cards doesn’t make you lucky.”

Kuroo shrugs, a wicked glint in his gold eyes. “Not getting caught does.”

The corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth twitches. “Yeah? How’d that work out tonight?”

“I’m still winning.”

The bartender places a drink down in front of Iwaizumi without a word, though he hesitates on the other side of the bar. A curious gaze strays towards Kuroo. The young man flinches when gold eyes snap up to meet his.

“On the rocks?” Kuroo comments as the bartender is called away by another patron. He watches the man leave, aware of the gazes lingering on him now that Iwaizumi is here. Bokuto must have mentioned the other man’s presence to Tsukishima because that familiar buzzing sound vibrates in his ear. “Didn’t think you’d be one to drink on the job. What would he say about that?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as he downs half the drink. The single ball of ice clinks against the edge of the glass. Kuroo watches it bob in the amber liquid. “I put up with his dumb ass twelve hours a day. He owes me this much.”

“That why you look like shit?” Kuroo asks, giving him another once-over. He smirks when he sees something he hadn’t noticed before. “That shade of red looks good on you, by the way.” He gestures to the lipstick stains half-hidden behind Iwaizumi’s collar, low on the side of his throat. “Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing.”

“Piss off.” Iwaizumi glares at him, flustered. A flush starts to creep up his neck, but it doesn’t get under his skin the way Kuroo wants it to. They’ve known each other too long for that. “What are you doing here, Kuroo?”

He takes some satisfaction in how quickly Iwaizumi changes the subject. Pleasantries gone.

Flicking the rim of his glass, Kuroo wonders how much he should say right now, mindful of the audience listening. “Passing through,” he finally settles on, watching the ice in his own drink bob. He sends Iwaizumi a pointed look. “Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”

“We?” Iwaizumi repeats, eyes narrowing as he furrows his brow. It dawns on him a second later. “You’re here on a job. Fuck.”

The glare aimed at Kuroo doesn’t soften as he waves off Iwaizumi’s concern. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Tell him that,” Iwaizumi spits back at him. He leans back on his stool, rubbing his temple. “You’re lucky Kunimi sent the waitress to me and not Kyoutani.”

Tsukishima is silent over the headset, but Kuroo knows the younger man has been listening intently since he got back, just in case Kuroo slips up and says something he shouldn’t. But Kuroo has practice. There’s always someone listening.

Kuroo taps the blackjack chip on the bar counter, tracing the Blue Castle written across the coin in an elegant scrawl. “Blond guy in the back?” With a twist of his fingers, he sends the chip spinning again. “He’s been watching me since I walked in. Looks like he wants to kick my ass.”

“You’d deserve it.” Iwaizumi looks at Kuroo. “You gonna make this easy for me?”

The chip stops spinning and falls on its side with a quiet clatter. A turquoise crown is printed in the center.

“Why not?” Glancing in the mirror one last time, Kuroo makes eye contact with Akaashi. Static buzzes in his ear, the radio crackling again. Before Tsukishima can speak, Kuroo casually flicks the switch on his headset, silencing the static. He downs the rest of his drink and slides off the stool with a lazy stretch. “It’s been a while since I saw the Great King.”

Iwaizumi leads him to the elevator.

Neither speak as they wait for it to reach the bottom floor. Kuroo takes a subtle glance around the room. The blond that Iwaizumi mentioned—Kyoutani—is still watching him. So are Akaashi and Bokuto, who have strayed from their positions closer to the door. While Bokuto seems more confused than concerned, there’s an uneasy look on Akaashi’s face. His mouth moves as he speaks to Tsukishima over his earpiece. Kuroo doesn’t bother trying to read his lips.

The ding of the elevator draws Kuroo’s attention back to Iwaizumi, who waits for him to enter the box first.

It’s been a while since Kuroo has been in Blue Castle, but as his gaze roams the panels of heavy glass surrounding the box, he figures not much has changed. The elevator juts from the main building. Three walls made of Saturn glass that reflect the neon lights from streets below. The doors slide shut as Iwaizumi follows him inside, and Kuroo leans against the wall, head tilted back. The ceiling is made of glass too.

From here, he can just barely see the stars.

Iwaizumi fishes a set of keys from his pocket. Thumbing through them, he stops when he finds the one he’s looking for: small and silver, a crown etched onto the side. The key slots into a lock at the bottom of the button panel, and the button for the fourth floor glows blue when Iwaizumi turns it.

Kuroo glances at the other man as the elevator starts to move, hands casually slipping into the pockets of his suit jacket. “Is there going to be a gun pointed at my head when I get to the top floor?”

“No promises,” Iwaizumi says, leaning back against the wall as well. The muscles in his jaw clench as he rubs the back of his neck. The lipstick stains on his neck are smeared, not nearly as noticeable as they were before. “You know how he is.”

Leaning in closer, Kuroo squints his eyes, a sly grin on his face. “You missed a spot,” he tells Iwaizumi, who glares at him.

“Fuck off.”

Kuroo’s chuckle is cut off by the doors to the fourth floor opening in front of them. There are no guns pointed at him. No guards. No dogs. Just an empty hallway leading to a set of double doors.

He hopes his shoes scuff the ridiculous marble floors as he follows Iwaizumi out of the elevator. They’re startling white, inlaid with streaks of gold.

Iwaizumi doesn’t bother knocking on the doors. He shoves them open wide, grumbling something under his breath that Kuroo doesn’t pay much attention to, immediately focused on the wall of windows across the room and the man perched behind the large, white desk centered in front of them.

He’s sprawled lazily in his chair, slumped against his desk, and unsurprised by their sudden arrival. “You truly have no tact, Hajime,” he complains, sighing as his head of security enters the room. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as the other man runs a hand through his brunet bangs. “Though, I suppose that can’t be helped.” His lips curl into a practiced smile when his dark eyes land on Kuroo, his expression brightening as he lifts his head from where it was cradled in his hand.

“Oikawa.”

“Kuroo.” The returned greeting is clipped. Oikawa sits up straighter behind his desk. “What a surprise.” He raises an eyebrow, silently observing his old acquaintance, his stare critical as he looks over Kuroo’s rumpled suit: jacket left unbuttoned and tie loose around his neck. “You look like shit,” he says, as Iwaizumi closes the set of doors and leans against the wall beside them.

Kuroo huffs. “Good to see you too,” he responds, sarcasm thick on his tongue as he walks further into the office, eyes wandering around the space.

It’s open. Clean. Decorated in blues and whites and golds. Expensive, but not tacky. Even Oikawa is wearing a nice blue button-up, looking more presentable than either Kuroo or Iwaizumi. The man in question slides his work aside, gesturing for Kuroo to sit in one of the sleek armchairs in front of him.

“How long has it been since we saw each other?” Oikawa asks him, clasping his hands together on his desk, head tilted to one side in thought.

“Almost two years.” Kuroo eyes the chair before sitting on it and stretching out like an overgrown housecat. “Back on Ganymede. When everything was going to shit.”

Oikawa hums low under his breath. His gaze seems to darken with the memory. The room feels colder suddenly. Heavier. Oikawa watches as Kuroo absently spins one of the rings decorating his fingers. He changes the subject. “You’re working with a team now. I suppose you always were a natural leader.”

Kuroo shrugs—grits his teeth. “I keep picking up strays. Bad habit.” He nods towards the paperwork shoved to one side of the desk, piles in various states of disarray. A small crack in the façade Oikawa likes to put on. “How’s the casino these days?”

It doesn’t catch him off guard like Kuroo hoped. Oikawa’s brows furrow, his smile slipping. “You don’t care about my business ventures.”

“You don’t care who I’m working with so long as they aren’t after you,” Kuroo counters.

The stare Oikawa levels him with is matched by Kuroo’s own, gold and brown clashing. It’s Oikawa who backs down first, though Kuroo knows better than to call it a win. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “Now, are you really going to make me ask why you’re here?”

“Bounty’s for some guy named Ikeda,” Kuroo tells him. “From what I’ve heard, he was a dealer for some kingpin on Callisto who took over within the last year, after the Widow Maker Conflict.” Kuroo’s eyes narrow. “He made off with four-hundred-thousand worth of some shit called Paradise. Nasty hallucinogenic. Some places are calling it Reaper. I don’t know much about it yet.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look over Kuroo’s shoulder. “So, the kingpin wants this Ikeda taken out?”

“No.” Kuroo shakes his head. “ISSP put out the bounty because they think he’ll talk. They want to get rid of this shit before one of the Mars’ Syndicates gets ahold of it. Bounty is set at over half a million right now.”

Iwaizumi scoffs by the door, arms folded across his chest. “They think the Syndicates don’t already? Dumb fucks.”

The sneered comment is followed by stark silence.

Behind his desk, Oikawa sighs. “I see,” he mutters. What little of his smile was left falls away, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The bounty does make it harder for the dealers to put out a hit instead. Too many people will be looking for one man. Once this Paradise ends up with one of the Syndicates, it’ll practically be untouchable. It makes sense they’d put out such a high bounty for it. Why do you think he’s coming here?”

“That pool downstairs is at almost five hundred thousand, right?”

This time, Iwaizumi outright laughs. “Ikeda thinks they’ll let him pay it back? They’ll make him bite the curb. Poor bastard’s good as dead already. If the kingpin doesn’t take him out now, one of the Syndicates will after he’s already in custody.”

“We got here early thanks to a tip from a friend of mine,” Kuroo explains, looking out the window. “As of about five minutes ago, every bounty hunter in the area is headed this way. By the time they get here, my crew downstairs will have caught Ikeda and left for the Juno station. Titan is going to be crawling with bounty hunters before long,” he tacks on. “And you don’t come to Titan without—”

“Without stopping at Blue Castle,” Oikawa finishes for him, tone dry. He rolls his eyes. “I’m aware.”

Kuroo leans back further in his seat, a grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth. There are no ships in sight yet, but he knows better than to think they aren’t coming. “With no bounty left, they’ll have nothing better to do but drink and play blackjack.”

Oikawa doesn’t look convinced. “They’ll be broke,” he says simply. “All of you bounty hunters are. What good does that do me?”

“It’s not my problem if they don’t know when to quit.” His golden eyes cut away from the window, catlike gaze settling on Oikawa. “Besides, when has that ever stopped you from letting someone rack up a gambling debt before?” Kuroo asks.

“I paid off yours, didn’t I?” Oikawa throws out casually, gaining a scowl from Kuroo in response. He ignores it, glancing down at his paperwork instead, then at Iwaizumi, before returning his attention to the bounty hunter on the other side of his desk. “And why wouldn’t I go after the bounty myself if he’s worth that much?”

Kuroo’s response is immediate. “You don’t like to get your hands dirty unless you need to. This one isn’t worth your time.” He shifts his weight on the chair, grinning. “And you still owe me a favor from back then.”

This time, Oikawa frowns. His eyes narrow in irritation. “I thought we settled that back on Ganymede?”

“You owed me two.”

Iwaizumi snorts, grinning as Oikawa sends him a withering look.

Instead of arguing like Kuroo expects, Oikawa pauses as he considers what Kuroo has told him so far. It does make sense. The bounty isn’t worth it to him, not when he’s unprepared. Even so.

“Why didn’t you join the poker game downstairs?” he asks. “The pool right now is more than your cut of the bounty. You could have taken it and run. Left someone else to deal with the bounty. It would have been easy for you.”

Kuroo smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Oikawa clasps his hands together, fingers linking together. “What exactly are you planning, Kuroo?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Kuroo promises.

“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t have to.” He shrugs. “All I’m asking is for your boys to stay out of my way.”

A pause. Oikawa is still frowning at him. “And if they don’t?”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi cuts in again. He still hasn’t moved from the spot he took up near the doors, staying out of it but remaining close. Just in case. Kuroo and Oikawa are too similar sometimes. Slick-tongued. Both of them piss Iwaizumi off like that. “It saves us a mess to clean up ourselves. Besides, business is business.”

Oikawa purses his lips, acknowledging Iwaizumi, but keeping his gaze firmly on Kuroo.

Instead of answering, Kuroo reaches under his jacket. Iwaizumi tenses where he’s leaning up against the wall, but before he can reach for his gun, Kuroo places a stack of blackjack chips on Oikawa’s desk and slides them across. Over a dozen ten-thousand-dollar chips clatter against the wood. “The house always wins, right?”

Oikawa lets him leave, dark brown eyes trailing after Kuroo as he heads for the door.

He stops beside Iwaizumi. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh?” Oikawa muses. “And what’s that?”

The ground floor is still bustling with activity when Kuroo and Iwaizumi step out of the elevator. A quick glance around the room tells Kuroo he hasn’t missed much. The all-in poker game hasn’t started yet, but there are more people milling around now, lingering closer to the middle of the room. He doesn’t see Ikeda, not yet anyway. It won’t be long until he crawls out of whatever hole he’s hidden away in.

He just hopes that’s before more bounty hunters start showing up. Despite what he told Oikawa, Kuroo isn’t so foolish as to think he’s the only bounty hunter with friends in the ISSP. If he wasn’t already headed towards Titan, they might have been too late getting here.

Catching sight of Bokuto’s hair in the crowd below, Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “Until next time,” he says, offering the other man a parting grin. “Also, I should probably warn you that Bokuto tends to break things. I’m sure Oikawa won’t mind paying for the damages himself, of course. As part of that favor.”

“Fuck off.”

Iwaizumi shakes Kuroo off, much to his delight, and he chuckles as he heads back towards the bar he’s supposed to be posted at. He doesn’t make it far before he pauses, hesitating before he reaches the floor. Iwaizumi quirks a brow at Kuroo’s behavior but watches silently as the other man stands there for a moment, only a few feet away from Iwaizumi. “Hey, Hajime?” Kuroo calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever, space cowboy.” Leaving Kuroo there, he turns towards the back of the room where Kyoutani is posted. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself killed now.”

An amused huff slips past Kuroo’s mouth. “No promises,” he says under his breath.

It’s not until he makes it back onto the gambling floor that Kuroo switches his earphone back on. Predictably, white noise fills his left ear. That static sound ends when a furious voice breaks through.

“What the hell was that?” Tsukishima sneers at him, louder than usual. Kuroo wasn’t gone long. Fifteen minutes at most. But it was just long enough to piss the younger man off. “Why did you cut me—”

“Tell Kou and Keiji to get back into position and wait for my signal,” he says, calmly cutting Tsukishima off. “And then connect all of the lines. If you’re going to stay outside, make sure you have eyes on the front at all times. The final pool starts in about twenty minutes. Everyone is all-in. Ikeda will be here for it.”

Tsukishima is quiet for a long time. Kuroo knows he’s pissed the younger man off, but right now, he doesn’t care.

The radio in his ear crackles one more time. “Fine.”

It’s easy to drown out the chatter in his ear as he sits at the bar. Bokuto’s voice fades into background noise, Akaashi’s occasionally filtering through as he responds to his partner. Tsukishima hasn’t spoken since he linked the coms, still pissed at Kuroo.

He’ll have to deal with that later.

Sighing, Kuroo runs his fingers through his hair and leans back.

A whiskey glass clinks against the counter in front of him. Kuroo’s gaze jumps towards the sound. Ice bobs in the glass. Slowly, his hand falls away from his head. A frown tugs at his mouth.

The same bartender from before stands across from him. Under Kuroo’s gaze, he shifts his weight back and forth on his feet. “It’s on the house,” he says as Kuroo raises an eyebrow at the drink he didn’t order. “Enjoy.”

Kuroo stares at the glass for a moment, but he doesn’t dwell on it. If Oikawa wants to waste good liquor on him, who is he to complain about it?

Raising the glass to his mouth, he takes a drink. The taste that bursts across his tongue almost makes him choke. Kuroo struggles not to laugh, biting his lip to keep from coughing.

Apple juice.

“Bastard,” he mumbles, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head.

It must be just loud enough for the microphone to catch, because Bokuto’s idle chatter cuts off abruptly. White-noise buzzes in his ear before Bokuto calls out, “Kuro?” A glance in the mirror shows that Bokuto is already looking at him from across the room, head cocked to one side curiously.

“It’s nothing,” Kuroo says, brushing him off. “Try not to break too much tonight, Kou. It’s coming out of your cut this time.”

The sudden shift in topic makes Bokuto gasp, his pride on the line. But before Bokuto can whine about being called out for occasionally being destructive, Tsukishima speaks up, his familiar bored tone smooth over the speaker in his ear.

“Kuroo,” he says nonchalantly. “Ikeda is here.”

Using the mirror, Kuroo scans the room. At the very edge of the glass, Kuroo catches a glimpse of a thin man with mousy brown hair standing near the entrance, eyes darting around the room. He’s making himself more obvious than Kuroo was. Jittery. The kind that brings problems with him where he goes. Even if he hadn’t warned Iwaizumi and Oikawa, they would have noticed him themselves immediately.

“I see him. Three o’clock.” The others call affirmatives once they have eyes on their target, and Kuroo mulls over what they should do. They need to get out of here quickly. Once more bounty hunters arrive at Blue Castle, they’ll be in trouble. “Bokuto. Akaashi.”

“Want us to cut him off?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. Let him get close. We don’t want him running.” He doesn’t dare face Ikeda directly; he looks jumpy enough to take off if he notices. Instead, he follows him in the mirror. Just like he told Oikawa, the bounty heads straight for the counter, exchanging what little cash he has for Blue Castle chips. He’s closest to Bokuto, still lingering near the poker tables. “Kei, is there anyone following him?”

“It looked like there might have been three men tailing him on the street. They just walked in as well.”

Akaashi speaks up from where he’s carefully hidden himself in the shadow of the back wall. “They’re looking for someone,” he says, watching the trio of men’s eyes roam around the room, gazes more shrewd than if they were simply entranced by the sights. “Bounty hunters?”

Kuroo catches sight of them a moment later and grimaces. It only takes one look for him to know they have a problem. “Hitmen,” he corrects. So much for it being harder to put out a hit. Ikeda must have information that’s too valuable for him to be left alive if they’re sending this many after him. “Shit. Cut them off. Don’t lose them in the crowd.”

“You got it!”

“And you?”

Kuroo slides off his barstool. “Just leave Ikeda to me.” He pauses before grabbing his glass from the counter, taking it with him.

Bokuto and Akaashi linger further away, keeping their eyes on the hitmen trailing Ikeda, while Kuroo heads straight for the poker table. Ikeda skirts around the edge of the same table, moving to the side furthest from the doors, expecting to be followed. It would be smart. Except Kuroo is coming from behind him.

It should be easy. They’ve dealt with more difficult targets before. Craftier. Stronger. More desperate. As soon as Kuroo gets close enough, he’ll subdue Ikeda. Bokuto and Akaashi should be able to handle the hitmen by themselves if they’re working for some low-level kingpin on Callisto.

Halfway across the room, Kuroo bumps into someone on his right.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His drink sloshes in the glass, spilling over his fingers. The man who ran into him swears as well. Amber liquid stains the side of his white shirt. As his arms jerk away from the sudden cold, the sides of his jacket shift.

There’s a gun holstered at his side.

Kuroo’s eyes snap up. The other man is already looking at him. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. His fingers twitch at his side. He hadn’t been on the first floor all night. They didn’t see him come in.

“Son of a bitch,” Kuroo says.

“Kuroo?” someone asks over the radio.

He sighs. “There are four of them.”

He throws what’s left of his drink in the other man’s face and lurches to the side as the fourth hitman draws his gun and shoots. The loud bang startles everyone in the room. Kuroo doesn’t see where the bullet goes as he ducks out of the way.

The gun is still trained on him when Kuroo rolls back onto his feet. There’s more distance between them now. A long blackjack table caught between the two of them. The hitman sneers at him. The gun levels with Kuroo’s chest. His finger pulls back on the trigger.

Kuroo lashes out with his leg. His foot collides with the underside of the blackjack table. It’s thrown onto its side. Two of the four legs lurch off the ground. Balanced precariously like that, the table blocks the bullets aimed at him. Wood splinters upon impact at point blank. Blue and white poker chips fly through the air.

All hell breaks loose.

There are screams in Blue Castle as the other hitmen draw their guns as well. People stumble from their seats on the gambling floor, shoving to get out of the way of gunfire that doesn’t come. Bokuto and Akaashi are faster.

Two of the men are caught off-guard and taken down.

Kuroo doesn’t watch his partners grapple for their guns. His eyes sweep around the room in search of Ikeda. He’s already taken off, racing towards the side door leading out to the alleys surrounding Blue Castle. He spits out a curse. It’ll be hard to catch him if he gets outside.

The hitman across from Kuroo seems to realize the same thing. Still blocked by the table, he trains his gun on Ikeda instead, ready to take the shot.

As the other man fires his gun, Kuroo throws the whiskey glass still clenched in his hand. The bullet smashes into the specially made Saturn Glass which explodes with the impact, delayed by only a second. Shards of glass rain down. The bullet’s trajectory shifts off course; it ends up embedded in the wall inches from Ikeda as he throws himself out the side door.

Before he can take another shot, Kuroo throws his weight against the upright table. It topples onto the hitman, knocking him onto the ground. One of the wooden legs snaps off.

Oikawa is going to be pissed.

Kuroo doesn’t have long to dwell on that. One of the other three hitmen pushes through the crowd. Before Kuroo can grab his own gun, the other man is already halfway out the door.

He makes sure to step on the table as he races after them, knocking the wind out of the man beneath it.

Kuroo throws the door open, letting it bang against the side of the building. The alley is empty. Both men are gone.

“Shit,” he sneers. “Kei, any movement on the west side of the entrance?”

“None.”

He runs to the right.

From what he remembers, this alley leads to a dead end behind the casino. An area sectioned off by the man who owned Blue Castle before Oikawa. They should be trapped there. If not, the wall should at least slow them down long enough for him to catch up.

Kuroo rounds the corner. A bang. He throws himself against the alley wall. A bullet buries itself in the bricks behind where he was standing. Kuroo yanks out his own gun, leveling it with the hitman’s head.

Before he can take the shot, the hitman pulls Ikeda between them, turning his gun on their bounty instead.

“Drop it. Now,” he demands, shoving the pistol against Ikeda’s temple. “Or he’s dead.”

Ikeda inhales sharply, tensing. Wide, terrified eyes try to meet Kuroo’s, but he doesn’t spare the bounty a look, keeping his eyes locked with the hitman’s as his finger hovers over the trigger.

Kuroo’s grip on his own gun is loose. He raises an eyebrow at the threat. “What do I care about that?” he asks. The hitman’s eyes widen. His shoulders slacken momentarily in surprise. Ikeda tenses as Kuroo continues. “He’s dead either way, right? That pool inside is worth more than this bastard is.”

The hitman hesitates, his brow furrowing in confusion. “But you’re a cowboy, aren’t you?”

Kuroo shrugs with one shoulder, gun still pointed at the hitman. “I’m not here to save anyone,” he says truthfully. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as the pistol moves just an inch away from Ikeda’s head. “Besides. You really think you’re faster than me?”

He pulls the trigger.

Blood splatters across the side of Ikeda’s face. The hitman cries out as a bullet buries itself in his shoulder. He drops the gun. Kuroo shoots him again as he stumbles forward, this time in the leg. He hits the ground with a thud and doesn’t move.

Kuroo doesn’t lower his weapon until Ikeda stumbles back against the wall and slides down onto his ass, his legs giving out.

“Thank you,” Ikeda croaks after a minute of silence. His hands tremble as he curls further into the brick wall behind him, and he watches as Kuroo nudges the hitman with the tip of his shoe.

He kicks the man’s injured shoulder when he doesn’t react the first time, satisfied when the man groans, long and low under his breath. Good. He doesn’t feel like dealing with a body today. Too much of a hassle with the paperwork.

Kuroo leans back against the opposite wall of the alley and takes out a cigarette.

Ikeda sucks in a shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he says again before Kuroo can light it.

Kuroo stills. “Don’t.” His voice is calm. Firm. “I meant it. You’re probably dead either way if you’ve pissed off the syndicates.” Ikeda flinches as Kuroo’s eyes finally snap over to meet his. “There’s not much the ISSP can do to protect you from them. You should have known that when you stole almost half a million worth of product.” He laughs at the face Ikeda makes, but there’s nothing humorous about it. “Hell, it might have been kinder to let him shoot you here, compared to what they’ll do after you’re taken in.”

He turns his back on Ikeda, lighting his cigarette. “You guys done inside?” he asks over the radio.

Akaashi answers. “We’re taking these three back to the Cat. Do you need help?”

“Nah, I should be—”

He stops abruptly.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kuroo finds a gun pointed at him again. This time it’s Ikeda holding it.

“Kuroo?”

He wets his lips. “Give me a minute,” he mumbles back.

Ikeda aims the gun at Kuroo’s head, trembling finger hesitating to squeeze down on the trigger. “I don’t wanna die,” he tells Kuroo, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Slowly, Kuroo raises one of his empty hands to his ear, silencing the radio. Ikeda’s hand won’t stop shaking. “You think running away forever is any better?”

By the time Kuroo gets back with Ikeda and the hitman he took out, the others are already lounging around in the common area of the ship. The other three hitmen are tied up on the floor, their wrists cuffed behind their backs. Tsukishima is lying on one of the couches, wearing his headphones as he plays some handheld game, Akaashi leaning against the wall beside him. Bokuto is sitting cross-legged in front of the hitmen. A grin spreads across his face when Kuroo walks into the room.

“About time you got back, man! We were ready to leave without you!”

Akaashi sighs. Ignoring Bokuto, he looks at Kuroo as he shoves the last hitman with the rest. Ikeda, he lets sit on one of the chairs in the room, though his hands are bound in front of him.

“What do you want us to do with them?” he asks, nodding towards the four.

Kuroo crouches in front of them, brows furrowed in thought. “Might as well keep them,” he decides. “I might be able to swindle my guy into giving us a bonus for these bastards. Doubt they’re worth much though.” Shrugging, he stands and stretches. “Ah, well. Guess that’s not our problem.”

Akaashi nods, and Bokuto scrambles to his feet beside him. “Want us to take them downstairs?”

“Keep them separate,” Kuroo tells them. The last thing they need is for one of them to get their hands on Ikeda before they can turn him in.

Bokuto gives him a two-finger salute before he helps Akaashi pull the men to their feet. They don’t put up much of a struggle as they’re herded out of the main area. Ikeda, too, follows them without making a fuss. His face is still streaked with blood, his eyes puffy and red.

Kuroo doesn’t look at him for long.

“You seem to know a lot of people,” Tsukishima comments after Akaashi and Bokuto are gone with the others. He’s still playing his game, but his headphones are down around his neck.

“Must be my sparkling personality.” Tsukishima scoffs under his breath, and Kuroo levels him with a look, catching Tsukishima’s gaze before he can turn away. When the younger man stays quiet, Kuroo narrows his eyes. “You got something to say, say it.”

Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate this time. “Why did you turn off your headset?”

“Now, that’s a secret,” Kuroo tells him, starting to smile. When Tsukishima sends him a blank look in return, Kuroo doesn’t bother to keep it up. “I had business with an old friend. I didn’t need some kid listening in.” It’s the wrong thing to say.

“Right.”

The snappish tone has Kuroo gritting his teeth. “Is that a problem, Kei?”

The younger man rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, getting off the couch. “The ship is on autopilot to Juno. I’ll be in my room.”

Suddenly exhausted, Kuroo drops onto the couch opposite where Tsukishima was sitting. A soft trilling sound comes from the open hallway leading toward the bedrooms. Kuroo’s head lolls to the side. A small smile tugs at his mouth as a fluffy, black cat pads into the room. Sumi chirps as soon as he sees Kuroo. The cat trots up to him, rubbing against Kuroo’s legs and winding around his ankles. He purrs loudly.

Clicking his tongue, Kuroo pats the seat beside him.

Sumi makes a sound as he hops onto the couch, immediately crawling onto Kuroo’s lap. “What the hell are we gonna do with him, huh, Susu?” Kuroo asks, rubbing the cat’s cheek. Sumi purrs louder, leaning more of his weight into Kuroo’s palm.

Predictably, Sumi offers no answers. Kuroo sighs as he runs his fingers along the cat’s spine, fingers brushing through his long hair.

Closing his eyes again, he leans his head back, thinking about what Oikawa said before. There was a reason he couldn’t have Tsukishima listening in.

He stopped beside Iwaizumi. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh?” Oikawa mused. “And what’s that?”

Kuroo glanced over his shoulder, baring his teeth in a grin that was too wide. Too sharp. “I was never here.”

At his desk, Oikawa arched a brow, chin resting on his laced fingers. An amused smile tugged at his lips. “Of course not,” he agreed easily, brushing off the unspoken threat and pacifying Iwaizumi, whose hand had twitched towards the gun at his hip. “How could you be?” Oikawa continued. “After all, you’ve been dead for three years.”

[qqueenofhades]

im sending you all the good moving vibes ✨✨ make sure to drink some water and stay hydrated

since you asked for some prompts/asks to distract, may i humbly request fedyor finally forcing ivan to let him spoil him after PEL (because ofc ivan needs to be forced to take a day off for once) and like…them just being playful and soft 🥺

Their apartment smells like actual death when they finally unlock the door and step inside, sweaty and tired from the Uber ride home from JFK (their flight from Oslo was late, their Metro cards are out, they got stuck in New York rush hour traffic, etc etc.) and Fedyor wrinkles his nose, gagging a little. "Ugh," he says, dropping his bag and waving one hand fruitlessly in front of his face. "I'm shocked that the neighbors didn't call the police on suspicion of one of us murdering the other and hiding the body in the floorboards."

Ivan raises one eyebrow at him, as if to remark that this is very unlikely indeed for any number of reasons, but he can't deny the reek. Since they were only planning to be away for a couple days, grab Nina and get back here somehow (the idea was for Nikolai to have an emergency American visa in hand by that time), they didn't empty their fridge, take out the garbage, or otherwise prepare for an extended absence stretching from mid-June to the end of August, as it now is. They've certainly enjoyed their impromptu Norwegian vacation -- you know, aside from the whole getting-kidnapped-by-Nazis thing, which put a bit of a damper on the start -- but this. Phew.

They're hot and grumpy, they've been traveling all day, and they just want to drop everything on the floor and go to sleep, but the stink requires urgently to be dealt with, and so they empty out the spoiled food and trash, spray Febreze extensively, turn on fans to blow the hot air around to be hot air somewhere else (it's the dog days of summer and Brooklyn is as wet as a soaked washcloth, their building is old and the air conditioning is chancy), and then order takeout to eat sprawled on the couch while trying not to touch each other too much. Even the most adoring of spouses has their limits in a heatwave.

Finally, once the chores are done, Fedyor has apologized repeatedly to Mrs. Terekhova from the apartment below theirs, and they have reached their limit for any more housework, they stumble to bed, turn on the box fans, and fall asleep. The next day is Monday, but since they're still on leave from work (Ivan has called his boss and assured him that they're not dead, but still), they don't need to get up and rush off. To Fedyor's shock, he actually wakes up before Ivan, which almost never happens. God, he really must be exhausted.

Fedyor eyes his sleeping husband tenderly, creeps out quietly so as not to wake him, and makes an emergency run to Brighton Bazaar to replenish their food supply. Then he throws together some of Ivan's favorite things and carries it into their dim and marginally-cool bedroom, just as Ivan is stirring in panic that he hasn't sprung out of bed at the crack of dawn like a lunatic. "What time is it?" he says groggily, fumbling for his phone. "Do I have to -- "

"You don't have to go anywhere." Fedyor puts down the tray and pushes Ivan back into bed as he tries to get up. "Rest, Vanya."

"I rested with you," Ivan says, one arm thrown over his face. "For almost a month. In Norway. Remember?"

"Rest now, I mean." Fedyor sits down next to Ivan. "For someone who rescued me from literal, actual Nazis, you sure are resistant to taking a mental health day now and then."

"I had help," Ivan points out. "With rescuing you, I mean."

"I know, but it's not relevant right now." Fedyor breaks off a piece of toast with whatever horribly hearty spread Ivan likes on it, and waggles it enticingly under his beloved's nose. "So eat."

"You always make me eat," Ivan mumbles, opening his mouth nonetheless and allowing Fedyor to insert the toast. He chews contemplatively, eyes closed, as Fedyor studies the silent weight of weariness on Ivan's shoulders, the release of all the worry that he has been carrying even after the end of the operation on Utoya, the arrest of Jarl Brum, their return to safety. He leans forward and kisses Ivan's head, and Ivan looks at him in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Because I love you, idiot." Fedyor bites his lip and smiles. "You're the best man in the world, you know."

"I don't think -- "

"The entire world," Fedyor repeats, very firmly. "I will not be taking criticism at this time. And you're going to relax and take it easy today, and I am going to spoil you. Because I adore you, and it is what you deserve. Got it?"

Ivan glowers. Only he would bristle at being asked to chill the fuck out, metaphorically and literally. But at last, he sighs. "Yes, Fedya," he says meekly, as ever. "I will do as you command me."

[legends-of-apex]

Loba x Reader x Crypto: ‘Something More’ (Part 2/2) SMUT 18+

Summary: A continuation of Part I in which Loba, Crypto and The Reader go back to the Reader's room in the legends compound to decrypt the files taken from Pathfinder's chip. Inevitably, Loba's proposition is brought up and smut ensues. You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer!

A/N:  Hello! Here's the second and final part. This chapter does contain smut after the cut. I've spent the best part of a month on this so I promise there is still a plot as well :D Hope you like it! And I would love to hear your thoughts!  Reader's pronouns aren't specified however they are referred to as having a vagina/breasts etc. so please keep that in mind x Warnings under the cut!

Words: 7, 788

Warnings: This fic contains heavy smut including oral (reader receiving and giving), fingering, penetrative sex and scissoring

The rest of the match went relatively uneventfully, with the three of you finishing fourth after being ambushed by another squad. There hadn’t even been enough time to see who it was before you blacked out. When you awoke, a bright light beaming down upon you made you squeeze your eyes shut again. Forcing yourself to sit up, you felt the familiar rubber of the med bay beds beneath your fingertips. When you dared open your eyes again the lights weren’t so bad and you could actually look around the room. Your head felt heavy, your mind off-centered. A nurse was wrapping your fingers around a glass of water before you could ask for one to soothe your aching throat.

“Hey, can you tell me where you are?” He asked you. Bright eyes brimmed over the top of his surgical mask. He was the same nurse from every other time you were revived after a match and he always had the same questions.

“The med bay back at the compound?” You asked, cautiously lifting the water to your lips.

“Yeah! Well done out there today. You guys were great!” He took the empty glass from you when you were finished and set it down by the sink, his black scrubs rustling as he moved around the room, looking at the various monitors that hung like cobwebs from the walls, “How are you feeling?”

“Just a small headache. The usual.” You answered, knowing if you gave even a slightly different answer you could end up stuck in here for days. The headache you had post-match was always the same, pounding and everywhere all at once. It probably had something to do with the serum they used to revive you after the match but you were more concerned about Loba and Crypto right now. You hadn’t seen them go down.

“Great! Well, you’re all healed, vitals are great. You’re free to head out.” He seemed to sense your eagerness to leave and for that you were thankful.

Loba was waiting for you outside the room when you stepped out, pushing herself off the wall and uncrossing her arms when she saw you. She walked towards you with her arms open, engulfing you in a hug when she reached you. With her six-inch heels and already naturally impressive height, she almost dwarfed you, your chin only just being able to rest atop her shoulder. You knew she was just glad you were okay, but displays of affection were rare for her. Even if the hallway you were in was empty. Usually, she wouldn’t be caught sharing any shred of weakness, but after a match? She always got a little sappy, even if she would never admit it.

“Shall we go wait for the hacker?” She pulled back to look at your face and you nodded before taking her hand, walking towards Crypto’s usual med bay room. His name printed on the outside of the door. Loba peered through a tiny window in the door. “Is he still in there?” You asked. It was unusual for anyone to be kept so long and he knew not to say anything that might prolong his stay. Unless there was some kind of complication? You tried not to think about it.

Loba scoffed. “Oh please, he wouldn’t leave without seeing you alive and well first. He’s still in there alright.” She spared a glance your way and recognised that look on your face. You were worried, even though the chances of any post-match complications were extremely low, nearly non-existent. “I wouldn’t worry, sweetheart. He was downed last so they’ll have had less time with him than us.” She saw that did very little to calm your nerves and decided to change the subject to take your mind off of it. She lowered her voice, knowing for sure that there were cameras and microphones all over this place. “Hey, we might get some promising information out of that chip, huh? Any information we can get on them brings us one step closer, no matter how small the step.” All you did was nod when usually you’d be beaming with excitement at the prospects of new information on the Syndicate and you weren't doing a particularly good job of hiding the fact that you couldn't care less about anything right now except for Crypto still being in that room.

“You really give a shit about him, huh?” she asks and you look to her, confused.

“If it was you in there I’d be just as worried.” Loba sighed and took your hand again, bringing your knuckles to her lips before squeezing your fingers gently, careful not to scratch you with her nails. That meant more to her than you knew.

The door before you opened with a click as Crypto finally emerged, hands already stuffed back in his jacket pockets by the time the door shut behind him. The look of relief on your face was enough to tell him you’d been worrying. You had dropped Loba’s hand in an instant and went to hug him, opening your arms a little first and waiting for his permission. He felt himself sigh into your arms, his own wrapping around you tightly as he could. However brief, he would always treasure each touch you gave him. You made him realise how much he craved being held, being close to people. It made him forevermore thankful that he was lucky to be as close to you as he was, even Loba as well to some extent. You shared a piece of your life with him, your kindness, your time and occasionally: your bed. Whilst you did the same for Loba, he never found himself growing jealous, only more thankful to have you when he did.

“You still got the chip?” Loba asked him over your shoulder. He nodded. “We had better get to it. The decryption might take a while.”

The first thing you did when you got back to your room was kick off your shoes and flop down, face-first, on your bed. All the running and the stress of the games could really take its toll. Meanwhile, Crypto headed straight for your PC, plugging in all kinds of strange contraptions and external hard drives no doubt filled with some kind of dodgy software. Loba asked if she could use your shower to which you told her there were already fresh towels in there ready to be used as you gathered a bundle of clothes for her to wear when she finished.

You looked to your broken arm shield emitter and groaned as you were getting changed into more comfortable clothes than your games gear, the realisation that you actually had to fix it dawned on you. You struggled to your feet and pulled up a chair beside Crypto at your desk and released the shield from your arm with a whirr. Most of it had survived, only a few small grenade fragments lay buried within it. Easy fix.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I overheard some of what you guys were saying earlier. Loba had her communicator still on. And I just want you to know that although I did tell Loba about us sleeping together, I haven’t said a word about… you know, you. Your identity. That’s yours to tell and I would never betray that information to anyone, even Loba.” You were one of two living people with the privilege of referring to him by his real name in private. By telling you about his past, even just by telling you his name, he put so much trust in you. And you wouldn't betray that for anyone.

He stopped typing to look at you, letting you know he was sincere. “I know you wouldn’t. I trust you more than anyone. But thank you for the reassurance. And I’m sorry that you heard that, I don’t wish for you to be treated like an object.”

You knew then that he didn't quite trust Loba’s intentions with her proposition but were quick to reassure him. “Oh, don’t worry. Loba asked if I was down for it beforehand. And it’s sweet that you two want to make me feel good, but I don’t require any payment for what I do for you two, especially in that kinda way. I do it because I care about you.” Tweezers in hand, you carefully began removing the fragments from your device. It was a good excuse to not have to look Taejoon in the eye during the conversation.

“Heh, that’s precisely why Loba thought you to be deserving of such an arrangement. And I have to say, I agree. You need to let us give back to you, though it doesn’t have to be in the form of what Loba was suggesting. In any way that you choose.” You could have laughed. On their own, they were amazing enough, both more than proficient and attentive lovers but together? You couldn't help but groan at the thought. “ Trust me , as long as you two are up for it that arrangement is totally fine by me! I couldn't think of anything better.”

You see Crypto’s head move suddenly in the corner of your eye, you turn to see Loba looking the softest you had ever seen her. Her hair was damp, falling all the way down to her waist. A pair of your baggy sweatpants hung low around her hips. She looked comfortable, her eyes held no sense of impending danger and you swore it was the first time you had seen her so at ease.

“Is that my shirt?” Crypto asks and she shrugs, looking down at the plain black material. “I don’t know, is it? It’s… cute?”, You sheepishly turn back to face Crypto as Loba dives straight onto your bed, stretching out on her back. “Maybe?” you offered, knowing damn well it was his from the last time he had stayed over. He wasn’t going to pry it off of you as you slept, especially since you looked so comfortable. It was his pair of sweatpants too, but he didn't need to know that. A low grumble sounded from your stomach and you took that to be the perfect topic change, “How about take-out?”.

“Lovely idea, I’m starving!”

You phoned up the best pizza company you knew, the woman on the line informed you that it would take a while because of the games. People liked to go for pizza after watching the apex games apparently. “We’re going to have to wait a while.” You said solemnly, hopping onto your bed behind Loba and taking your hairbrush from her hand. Her hair was long and so very soft. Crypto politely excused himself to also take a shower whilst you played with her hair. You combed through it with your fingers first. Loba released a long breath as you dragged the brush from the edge of her forehead, down her scalp and all the way down her back, holding the ends in your other hand. “So Crypto’s down for your idea.” You gently gathered her hair together in a bunch before letting it fan out again over her back, the strands so long they reached the covers below.

Loba leant back a little, resting on her palms. “Oh? I’m not surprised. He seems like he would do anything that involves you. That poor boy looks at you like you’re made of gold.” She chuckled, looking back at you over her shoulder. You pecked her lips, her skin was soft and supple with a subtle hint of cherry lip balm. “Ugh, I can’t wait to devour you.” She groaned, “If he doesn’t get out of that shower in the next two minutes, we’re starting without him.”

“So impatient!” You laughed, “Hair up or down?”

“Eh, leave it down.”

Crypto made his way out the bathroom still towelling off his soggy hair. He set his jacket on the back of your desk chair, along with his waistcoat and every other piece of his games gear apart from his baggy trousers and t-shirt. The pendants on his necklaces jingled together as he moved around, like a cat with a bell.

Far too impatient for subtly it seems, Loba decided now was the best time to initiate things “She looks good enough to eat, don’t you think Crypto?” He stops in his tracks, towel still raised to his head with his mouth hanging open before he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He hummed in agreement, taking the towel and folding it in half before laying it over the chair behind him. He now leaned his back against the desk so he could face you, bare arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you. You couldn’t help but blush at Loba’s words and the way he was looking at you, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Loba now turned to face you, mischief and wanting in her eyes and leaned in close. “We would love to take care of you if you’ll have us, of course.” She pressed a single kiss to the side of your neck, your skin tingling from the warmth of her lips, “What do you say?” You turned your attention back to Crypto who looked at you in question, his head tilted. Neither of them were moving without your say so.

“Sounds perfect.”

With that pushed you back so your head lay gently on the pillows. Her finger wagged in Crypto’s direction when he took a step forward, telling him to stay put. He gulped and leant back against the desk again. “Well then. Just relax and let us take care of you, hm?” She ended her question with a smile, already sliding downwards onto the bed in front of you. Placing her hands on either side of your sweatpants and giving the outside of your thighs a light squeeze. She looked up at you through her lashes, asking if she could take them off. You nodded and soon she had them tugged off, your socks soon followed.

She leant right down, pressing a kiss to the cloth of your underwear, her lips putting the lightest flutter of pressure on your heat. Your mouth fell open and she laughed quietly, seeing a dark patch on the fabric of your underwear. “Mhmm already dripping for us, Crypto.” she called back to him over her shoulder, “What do you say we take these off as well? No need to be shy. We already know how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” You nodded again, her fingers delicately taking the band of your underwear and making quick work of shimming them off your legs. A string of words, no doubt in Portuguese left her, as she took a moment to look at you. She had spoken far too quickly for you to have any hope of understanding what she was saying.

Her hands were on your sides in an instant, and her lips were back on yours as her hands made their slow descent back down towards your heat. Her kisses a rough contrast to the preciseness of her touch. She kissed with her heart it seems, everything else was calculated. A shiver wracked its way through you when her fingertips reached the hem of your shirt, but she didn’t lift it, only gently massaged the bottom of your stomach and over the tops of your thighs. Circular motions everywhere except the place you wanted them to be.

Her lips left you as you whined softly, “So eager.” she smiled at you again, before leaning in to kiss your neck as her fingers finally touched where you so craved them so much. A moan escaped you as she wasted no time in finding your heat, circling her two fingertips within its wetness before dragging them up and down your slit. Over her shoulder, you could see Crypto standing biting his lip so hard it looked like it would bleed, face flushed.

Sucking gently on the soft skin of your neck, Loba pressed her two fingers right onto your clit. You couldn’t help the noises that escaped you or how you clung to her so desperately. She soon switched back and forth between gently massaging all-around your folds and slowly circling one finger directly to your nub. She was teasing you. The alteration driving you insane, legs beginning to shake. Just as you felt the dam about to burst she drew back away from you entirely, leaning back on her knees as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked on them lightly.

“How does she taste?” Crypto asked, his face warm. Loba leaned back from you and you near-whined at the loss.

She brought her fingers back down your heat and gathered some of your wetness onto her fingers again, standing and extending her fingers in his direction. “Like honey. Want to try?” He bypassed her altogether and walked towards you. “Suit yourself, Hacker,” she rolled her eyes.

“May I?” He asked so softly you nearly melted then and there. “Yes, please.” You managed and before you knew it he was sliding one of your legs over his shoulder, shortly followed by the other. He began by pressing the gentlest of kisses to your thighs.

“Ooh nevermind.” Loba went back on her previous statement with an approving nod of her head, “One second.” The glare he sent in her direction could’ve stopped a charging bull but Loba just waved him off and laid down beside you, pulling you into her lap so she could support your body. Crypto tugged you down towards him so the back of your head rested against Loba’s chest. Warmth radiated from Loba’s body beneath you in a constant wave of gentle, comforting heat but your focus wasn’t on her right now.

The moment his mouth made contact with your core, your body went lax. His tongue came right after and your back arched with such ferocity that Loba almost lost her hold on you. When the most desperate noise left you, you felt the vibrations of his laughter roll through you and his hands gripped the tops of your thighs more firmly to keep you in place. His eyes flickered up to you for a moment, soon after your hands found his hair, tugging lightly on the damp ends in an attempt to have him closer.

Loba’s lips ghosted over the shell of your ear “I know you said he was good but you really weren’t kidding,” she whispered before her mouth before she latched her lips back onto your neck.

Tugging his hair seemed to only spur him on more as the groan he emitted was borderline feral, bringing his tongue to circle over your clit at such a pace that the pressure built within you to the point where you were about to burst and likely would have had to not pulled back for a second to quickly catch his breath and get a better look at you.

“I know you want to come on his tongue, beautiful. Go on.” Crypto was back between your legs then, doubling his pace. “Come for us.” She whispered just as Crypto decided to wrap his lips around your clit and suck. You lurched upright, grip tight on his hair as you grind your pussy against his lips. When he slowly coated one of his fingers before slowly pressing it into you and pumping to the rhythm of his mouth, that was it for you.

Your body barely felt like you controlled its movement anymore as pleasure wracked its way through you in gushing waves. A drawn-out moan you’d probably be embarrassed about later escaped you as you went limp in Loba’s arms. Crypto helped you ride it out, wanting to make you feel the best he could. His tongue didn’t leave you until your pussy ceased its tensing then releasing around his finger, pulling it out of you and to his lips immediately. Loba’s arms kept you steady as your body slowly returned to normal, cold air stinging as Crypto left you. You missed his mouth and hands on you immediately but Loba was quick to distract you by helping you rid yourself of your shirt all whilst trying to keep her lips latched on to yours. Her fingers so swift in how they undressed you and herself that you were suddenly reminded that she was a thief, quick hand movements were her speciality. Her hand came to cup your bare breast for a moment, glee in her eyes at the sight. Once you helped her out of most of her clothes, you felt Crypto’s lips on the side of your neck. His mouth leaving marks no doubt right beside the ones Loba had made already. A hand in his hair again had him whimpering. Loba noticed and released you so you turned to face him, your mouth finding his as you stood on shaky legs. His lips were swollen but still soft. He kisses you like it was the last time he would have the chance, one hand gently cupping your face as his other arm wrapped around you.

“I’m going to let you two have this round.” You pulled back from Crypto and looked at her with confusion, she hadn’t even had any kind of pleasure yet and she still insisted you and Crypto go ahead. “I like to watch.” She clarified with a smirk, seating herself in your desk chair, legs folded neatly over one another. Her lacy black bra and panties somehow made her even more attractive but comply with her wishes you would. Plus you wanted the chance to repay Crypto for his services.

Soon enough, Crypto is stripped of all but his boxers, seated upright at the edge of your bed and facing Loba’s general direction. Running your finger over his cheekbone, you look down to notice just how hard he is. “You like eating me out that much, huh?” You asked as you swung one leg over both of his and knelt so you could grind against him, wringing your arms around his neck. You felt just how hard he was then and Crypto looked like he might have came if you weren’t careful, his mouth opened slightly, eyes closed. His hands found the bottom of your back to keep you steady as you slowly grinded onto him, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against your sensitive lips. “예수 그리스도'' He moaned at the feeling, bottom lip now trapped between his teeth.

“Really wanna ride you.” You told him and his eyes snapped open, hand gently cupping your cheek as he brought you in for another kiss.

“Then ride me.”

You sat back from him to run your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling it twitch with your touch. Soft moans fell from his mouth with each drawn-out stroke, he was so terribly sensitive. Tentatively tugging down his boxers, you freed his member from its confines and rubbed along the shaft before thumbing its tip. His throat hitched.

“If you keep touching me like that, this is going to be over a lot quicker than either of us could have hoped,” His hand found your bare pussy again, fingers gliding through your folds to make sure you were still wet enough to take him, “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Leaning further forward so your hips rested against his, bracing against his strong chest for support, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready.” You told him. Without a word, Crypto reached down and aligned the two of you before oh-so-slowly lowering you back down onto his lap, feeling his length buried within you to the hilt.

You moaned together when he filled you, Crypto burying his head in your shoulder when you began to move, his hips rocking to meet the rhythm of yours. It felt delicious, his length rubbed your walls in all the right places and you felt a pressure begin to build quickly within your stomach again. His moans were so soft you almost had to strain to hear him but his strong grip on your hips as you swayed atop him telling enough.

Looking over your shoulder for a moment, you saw Loba lazily rubbing herself through her underwear, her eyes utterly transfixed on you and Crypto. One particularly measured thrust on his part hit your most sensitive spot directly and had your attention turned all the way back to him immediately. Gripping his hair as you rode him, you felt the pressure of his teeth on your shoulder as he bit back a moan. You slowed your pace and tilted his face up to see yours.

“Be as loud as you want baby, we wanna hear you,” you assured him and he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, skin flushed and lips bitten. You felt his cock twitch inside of you.

Pulling you back towards him so you were flesh to flesh, his hips snapped up into you with renewed vigour as his lips found your neck. Right next to another small mark Loba had left not a few moments earlier, he tentatively suckled on your skin until it bloomed. He swore he wasn’t a jealous person, he just wanted things to be even. His lips slowly trailed down towards your chest until he found one of your breasts, ready and waiting for him.

You let your head fall back. His consistent pumping up into you, filling you over and over and his tongue on your nipple combined with the knowledge that Loba was watching and enjoying all of this was quickly becoming too much for you to handle. You felt his cock twitch within you again.

You cupped his face in your hands as you brought him away from your nipple to press his swollen lips to yours again. That was when he reached between you and let his fingers trail over you clit. A cry escaped you. You were reaching the point of overstimulation and it felt like heaven.

When his thrusts became distractingly fast, you had to leave his lips but still held his face in your hands. “Come for me baby,” you told him and he felt his mind going numb. A few more thrusts and he was spent, all low moans and mumbles as he buried his face in your chest. His warm release within you felt so good, coating your walls and making you feel so wonderfully full. The coil in your stomach was wound, near the point of breaking now, but it wasn’t enough for you to reach your peak.

You just held each other for a few moments, petting over his hair as you relaxed in his arms. Even though you hadn’t come a second time that didn’t matter all that much when he still managed to make you feel as good as he did. When he caught his breath he looked up at you and frowned, “You didn’t-“

Loba was quick to interrupt him. She was up from her chair and walking towards you the moment you had regulated your breathing, “I’ll take care of that, pretty boy. Go take a minute.” With one last kiss and a groan as he pulled out of you, he reluctantly lifted you off his lap and sat you gently on your bed. He usually held you for hours after sex so this was new for him but just as he was learning to trust, he was also learning to compromise.

Loba bent down beside you as Crypto got up from your bed, tilting your chin upwards with her fingertip. “Ooh what a mess he made, hmm? Guess I had better help you clean up.” You were already oh so sensitive but your release was building again, all worked up from Crypto’s cock but surely going to be finished by Loba’s fingers.

Her touch was so different to Crypto’s, so delicate yet precise. She Plucked your body as if you were a harp, and she was a harpist with the most experienced hands. Her hands trailed over your shoulders and your chest, a nipple pinched and pressed deliciously between her fingers. With a few strange movements of your legs, Loba manoeuvres you by your hips, weaving your legs together. She draws her fingers up the underside of your thigh then down your lower leg, teasingly with a wicked grin plastered across her face as she does.

Loba scoots you closer together, her hands exploring your thighs as she goes, until you’re so close to her that you can feel the heat of her pussy against your own. She pulls you in for a kiss again and you take a handful of her full breasts. Loba rocks forward suddenly, rubbing your dripping cores together. She was most definitely keeping herself busy whilst you were with Crypto because she was soaking. Your pussy was so sensitive, so worked-up again that even the slightest touch had you reeling. Another slow grind and Loba’s eyes flutter closed. A twist of your thighs and you were fully locked together, her core providing yours with a delicious pressure. With a groan, Loba favoured a rougher rolling motion, her nails clawing at your thighs as your clits rub together.

“Shit!” Loba cries and her hips jerk into yours more sloppily. It was rare to see her so needy. The pressure from her clit on yours and the way her face contorted in pure pleasure had your insides twisting until you felt the dam burst for the second time that night. You found her lips again as you felt her too reach her release soon after, panting between kisses and cursing. Her movements slowed, as did your own until you were faced with the task of untangling from one another. “Guess we were pretty worked up, huh?” She asks and you nod in agreement, “You still have another round left in you? Pizza guy won’t be here for another twenty minutes…”

You were exhausted, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath but you still managed to stifle out another “Yes, please.” You couldn’t get enough of them and you were dying to have them both at once. You felt more than just lust for these two. They made you feel loved, feel safe. All three of you had issues with connecting to people, whether it was simple distrust or even trauma but you were lucky enough to find one another. All the time spent with them trying to take down the Syndicate made Loba and Crypto learn to trust other people again. Not only that, they learned to care for you and in-turn allowed you to care for them. And being cared for wasn’t something either of them imagined would happen any time soon. Your tenderness and love made them feel human again like they were more than just their past.

“What do you think? Up for round three?” You looked to Taejoon and saw him sitting where Loba had been. When he moved one of his hands away from his lap to smooth his hair back from his face, you saw his cock was already erect again.

His chest heaved. “Are you sure you can take any more,애인(lover)?” Sitting up on your elbows now you looked at him and then to Loba who lay beside you, trailing her smooth fingertips up and down your arms. Excitement bubbled within you again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

They were both beside you in an instant. You weren’t sure who was touching where and frankly you couldn’t care less. Feeling both their bodies on yours at once felt amazing, your skin tingling all over as you knelt sandwiched between them. Despite your oversensitivity, you welcomed the metallic fingertips that found your folds again. You were so, helplessly wet. Your multiple releases, coupled with Loba and Crypto’s had your thighs and sheets a mess. The cold metal of Crypto’s fingers were a wonderful contrast to the warmth of your pussy as he trailed along, up and down your lips, purposely avoiding where you wanted him to touch.

He left your lips in favour of hooking a finger inside you again. The friction was welcome but it wasn’t enough. “Please!” You whimpered and you heard Loba chuckle.

“Oh, baby girl, are you eager for his cock again? It’s a shame we aren’t at my place, you could’ve had mine as well.” Crypto raised a brow at that. You just whined at the thought of Loba’s strap.

He hummed as he found your clit with his thumb as he continued to draw his finger in and out of you. “Crypto, please!”

“I think you should tell him what you want him to do, sweetheart.”

“Please fuck me. I-I need-” You cut yourself off with a moan of his name and Crypto thought he might just die. He leant down to kiss your lips, rougher than usual now but still gentle. When he pulled back from you and gave you a chance to lay back, he had his dick in his hand and took his sweet time coating the tip in your juices, slowly dragging it through your folds.

“Ready for me?” he asked and you nodded. He tugged your knees around his hips and he leant between your legs and slowly entered you, inch by inch until you felt that wonderful fullness again. He let out a shaky breath and a gasp as he entered you. You felt so warm, so soft and so unmistakably you that he had a hard time moving for a moment for fear he might lose composure too soon and leave you disappointed for a second time. When you gave him the okay to move, Loba began teasing your breasts again, but you had other ideas for her.

“Sit-” A particularly drawn-out thrust from Crypto had your words misforming, “-On my face?” you asked her. Seeing as how Loba hadn’t garnered all that much from tonight’s proceedings, you were eager to make her feel good.

Her lips twisted into a smirk as she drew back from your chest, “Oh, sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.” Crypto slowed his movements to let you two get comfortable. Loba now knelt beside your head, swung one leg over your head as you lay flat upon the bed so she now kneeled directly above you. It was the perfect access point. None of the pressure was on you, only what you wanted there to be.

Pulling her down by the hips until her core ghosted so close to your lips that your exhale made her shiver, you made sure you had a good enough grip on her even if all her weight was on your mattress. Crypto took Loba’s chin aiming for the heavens as his queue that you were comfortable again and started back at a slow pace. He always liked to alternate between almost teasingly slow, slow enough that you got needy when he pulled fully out of you, before you the exact pace that you needed from him.

Loba tried not to grind against your face but your actions did nothing to deter her from it. She was extremely responsive to any stimulation she received and your tongue was right up there as one of her favourite ways to be pleasured. Your strokes were careful, teasing and just how she liked it. Although your body jerked forward with each thrust from Crypto, Loba didn’t seem to mind and simply rocked her hips along your face in time with his movements. Each time he pulled back out of you only to fully sheath himself inside you again, a small gasp or moan escaped you. The vibrations just made Loba’s experience even better, small rhythmic cries falling from her lips.

When you felt Crypto’s fingers on your mound again, you had to lift Loba off you slightly to breathe. He always knew exactly where and how to touch you and even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear his soft laugh at the sound you made when he circled your clit. The feeling of being filled over and over by his thick member was divine in and of itself, his girth allowed him to rub your walls with ease especially at the angle he had you in now. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he kept your lower half-raised slightly off the bed. But combined with his hands? It was difficult to concentrate on anything but.

The more you got distracted by Crypto, the needier Loba became, jerking her hips in tiny thrusts to enable some kind of friction. Your fingers dimpled the backs of her thighs to keep her in place as you tried to make up for your few distracted moments. She was getting close now, you could feel it. The poor woman wasn’t used to actually being on the receiving end of such things until she met you.

“I think I’m going to come,” Crypto said with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a barely spoken curse.

“Me too.” She whined, “Pick up the pace, Hacker.” She leant back on her heels to the point where she was nearly sitting on your chest now, a hand in your hair and the other keeping herself steady. Unable to tear her eyes away from your face as you worked on her, an intense ripple of pleasure rushed through her when your eyes met hers. As you tugged her clit back between your lips and sucked all whilst flicking it with your tongue over and over, she was done for. Her head dropped back and her hands now gripped your head with all her desperate strength as she cried a far louder noise than you had ever heard from her before. Her release fell from her entrance right onto your wait tongue, making sure to keep up the intensity until you felt her body relax within your arms.

“Shit!” Crypto cursed and you felt his cock again twitch within you as Loba rolled off to your side, “Are you close?” He asked, voice strained and breathless.

“Yes!” Now that Loba was off of you, you were free to reach forward and cling to him, nails digging into the back of his shoulders and dragging him back down onto the bed with you. With the new angle, his cock hit right where you needed it, the tip brushing over your g-spot over and over as his hand continued to work on your clit. You were almost there now, he could feel it. You felt so good, clenching and releasing around him as a new rush of moisture left you. Loba decided at that moment that sucking one of your nipples into her mouth was a good idea. Suffice to say: It was and it very nearly finished you off. You looked up at them above you, their focus solely on you as they worked and shaped your flesh to bring you the most pleasure they could.

It was only when Crypto leaned in to kiss you that you finally came for the third time that night. Neither he nor Loba ceased their efforts until your orgasm fully ceased. Wave upon wave of glorious pleasure washed over you. Your release was enough for Crypto to come again too, his face buried in your neck as he whimpered. Your oversensitive walls welcomed the sensation of him filling you again.

Loba collapsed at your side and Crypto basically flattened out on top of you before realising that maybe wasn’t the best idea and rolling off of you. Their hands were still on you. Gentle, loving caresses as you caught your breath and fully came down from your high. Your skin still pleasantly tingled from their touch, small shivers still coursing through from your orgasm. All three of you were spent and thoroughly satisfied.

Your muscles still felt soft but you knew you would be sore in the morning. All you wanted to do right now was to lay with them. Feel their arms around you and them in yours. Have Loba hold you from behind whilst Crypto buried his face in your shoulder and clung to you like a Koala bear. You just wanted to drift off in their arms.

But then the doorbell decided it was going to ring.

Crypto moved to get it but Loba stopped him. “No no no, you go to the bathroom. I’ll get it.” Before pulling Crypto’s shirt over her head again and attempting to fix her hair, she covered you with your sheets, a wad of cash in her hand ready for the delivery driver. She looked adorable in such a long t-shirt, so long it came to her mid-thighs. A plain black t-shirt with no shape and clearly sex-tousled hair yet she still looked like she belonged in a magazine.

“Pizza’s finally here!” She exclaimed, kicking the door shut behind her, a large flat box in her hand. Her other hand was empty and the massive bundle of cash was nowhere to be found.

“How much was the pizza, Loba?”

She shrugged as she set the box down atop your covers, “No idea, you know I like to tip big!” Crypto returned from the bathroom, wearing only his pair of sweatpants you had given Loba earlier, “Off you go, your turn.” She nodded towards the bathroom. She was very responsible when it came to after sex. As much as you wanted to sleep afterwards, she was always adamant you go clean yourself up first. It was one of her rare ways of showing how much she cared.

When you were finished, you toddled out of the bathroom and back towards your bed, feeling decidedly underdressed before Taejoon noticed you rummaging for something comfortable and tossed you the very shirt he was wearing that day, with a smile. That left none for him but he didn’t seem to mind. As you pulled the fabric over your head, you couldn’t help but inhale his scent that lingered.

The three of you sat on your bed in relative silence, eating the lukewarm pizza until your hunger ceased. For once, Crypto was the first to interrupt the silence when he left the bed to check up on the decryption status, “Another nine hours until the decryption is complete”.

Loba yawned, both from tiredness and at the thought of waiting nine hours for anything, “Well, in that case, we had better get comfortable.” She took the empty pizza box from your bed and discarded it by your desk.

After gathering up all the courage your tired brain could muster, “So… what do you say you guys both sleep here tonight?” You asked. Crypto was already stretched out at your back, his arms wrapping around you and his warmth seeping into you when he said, “No, I think we should awkwardly go back to our own rooms and talk in the morning.” You scoffed, knowing he was joking, he took every given opportunity to have you in his arms.

Loba stood at the edge of your bed like she was actually considering what he said to be something other than sarcasm. She rarely stayed with you after sex. Even in her own apartment, she would place a kiss on your temple then leave no doubt to pull some kind of heist. It was almost like she was afraid to get too attached to you like someone might take her from you as well as everyone else she had ever loved. But now, as she looked at you, your eyes all soft all and pleading, she thought back to only a few hours ago in the medbay when you fretted over Crypto and had told her you would do the same for her. She realised she could more than just meaningless material things and vengeance. She finally felt like she deserved more.

She sighed, “Well, alright. Not like I’m doing anything else tonight.” And so she clambered beneath the covers and into your open arms. “Have we done enough to satisfy?” She asked and you couldn’t help but laugh. Your legs were already beginning to ache and your entire body felt like each nerve ending and been caressed.

“Just being able to spend time with you both is already enough,” Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You felt Crypto place a kiss on the top of your head as he allowed himself to relax a little more, his body near-painted onto the back of yours, “But yes, thoroughly. You’re both so wonderful that I never really thought to stop and wonder what it would be like to have you together and it was better than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Oh sweetheart, you do so much more for us than we could ever hope to repay.” She pecked your check.

“More than we deserve.”

“That’s not true, Ta-” you cut yourself off, “That’s not true. You shouldn’t have to worry about the Syndicate or Revenant trying to take you out every ten minutes. You deserve to be happy and safe a-and loved. As long as I’m around, I’ll do my best to make sure you feel that way. Because I know that’s not something neither of you have had in a very long time.”

Taejoon tightened his arms around you, holding you closer to his chest. He placed one hand over yours as you rested it on Loba’s side, his fingers interlocking with yours. That meant so much more to him than he would ever let on in front of Loba. Meanwhile, you could see the water pooling in the corners of her eyes as she looked at you so endearingly. She brought her lips to yours for a moment, in the softest kiss you’d ever felt from her before she nuzzled her nose into your cheek.

Sandwiched between them in a mess of warm and tangled limbs, you felt safe and for once,  they did too. Loba was the first to drift off to sleep, her grip on you going lax as her breath evened. You felt Crypto shift behind you slightly, his arm beneath you no doubt beginning to go numb.

“It’s alright, you can rest. We’ll still be here when you wake up.” He whispered, voice as soft as he could make it.

And so you did. With Loba sound asleep in your arms and Taejoon wrapping you up in his, you let your tired limbs melt into the soft mattress below and your heavy eyelids close for the night.

Tagging (Thank you for liking/ rbing that post to be tagged :D ): @kumiakum @dragon-chica @lonelyintheclub @wintergirlsoilder2 @itsthedoctah10 @quinn-lee @askloba @julestheengineer1 @smolminimonnie @peachymochimochi @korean-crypted-trash @speakinjapanese @lilacburned​  @bring-me-the-videogames​ (If you’d like to be untagged, please let me know!)

[woman-of-culture]

The traitor 2/2

Dabi x reader

I really needed to finish this bc I couldn't focus on literally anything but Dabis dick. 🥵

Warnings: 18+, smut, Dabis identity

Part One

Words: 7,864

What’s one word to describe this trip you ask? Nerve-racking, from the moment you left your apartment to the moment you entered the bus. Everything seemed like a blur at this point as you walked through the bus to find the only empty seat next to your target, Bakugou. It’s not exactly guilt you felt, you knew this was inevitable, but you did contemplate the outcome of this.

The League could fail, although that was unlikely from the plan Dabi told you, he could refuse or he could possibly join by some miracle. You haven’t the slightest clue but you were damn sure on one thing, you were gonna do everything in your power to ensure the Leagues success from the shadows. Sitting next to Bakugou you made sure to give him a curt nod as a sort of greeting.

“Haah? What makes you think you can sit there you damn extra?” “What do you want me to do? Stand for how many hours this trip takes? No thanks, if you don’t want to sit next to me then get up and leave.”

That seemed to pop a nerve in the boy, making him shout for a few seconds but ultimately falling silent when Aizawa told him to be quiet. ‘Thank God’ you thought to yourself as you laid back, thinking of ways to get the schedule for the next few days.

You put your headphones on, not wanting to be distracted by any unnecessary noise as your mind slowly drifts off to this morning.

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You woke up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock bursting to life just to make your life a little more miserable. “For fucks sake, who schedules a trip for 6 AM...” You thought, silently groaning at the stiffness in your body. You got up, stretched, did your morning routine of brushing your teeth, combing and styling your hair etc.

Ready to go make yourself breakfast, you certainly didn’t expect Dabi to still be here, let alone fully awake and shirtless in the middle of your kitchen. You discreetly admired his physique from the entrance of the kitchen, gawking at the muscles on his back, flexing every time he reached for something.

‘Holy shit’ you knew Dabi was an attractive and physically fit man, despite his kinda lanky built, but this wasn’t what you were expecting at all. His shoulders and 1/3 of his back are the same charred skin covering his face and chest but what you weren’t expecting was he smooth, pale skin of the rest of his back. The contrast extremely attractive in your eyes as you do nothing but stare and wonder what the front view is like.

As if hearing your thoughts, he turns slightly exposing the well defined muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes drawn immediately to the harsh skin of his collarbone, down the valley of his abs to the exposed, very prominent and very attractive v-line dipping to his most private area.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the view but it’s not exactly nice to stare so hard for so long unless you’re planning on doing something about it.” Visibly flinching, you turn around, (poorly) hiding your more than flushed cheeks. “Get over y-yourself! I was just wondering why you were still here since you usually leave b-before I wake up.” “Aaw, dollface is so flustered she can’t even look me in the eyes. Don’t be so embarrassed, it’s normal to feel excited after that. You know, I could help with that in no time flat-...”

“OK, OK I GET IT! Shut up and answer my question, what are you still doing here?” You turn to face him, metaphorical steam coming out of your ears at his daring comments. He returns to what he was previously doing, which you now notice is making coffee and a sandwich. “Well I...don’t need to answer that.” He avoids the question completely, taking the 2 cups of coffee and sandwich to the living room table.

“That’s not fair Dabi! My house, my rules. Now answer the question.” Thinking he made a sandwich just for himself, you go to the fridge but stop once he called out to you “It’s your sandwich dumbass, I can’t eat in the mornings...” The last part being whispered as if it’s some secret.

You whipped your head so fast in his direction you’re surprised your neck didn’t snap. “What!? You? Dabi? The leach in my life who comes here just for the food, made something for me?“ You walked to the living room as you looked at him dead in the eyes. You leaned in far too close for his liking with narrowed eyes asking “What did you do to Dabi? Am I still sleeping? Toga, is that you?”

The proximity and teasing enough to slightly fluster him. He pushed at your face with his hand, blocking your view of him as he told you to shut up and eat like a normal person in silence.

You grabbed his hand, giggling as you removed it and agreed to eat while watching TV.

“...I won’t be able to come so often...” He mumbled into the coffee after a few minutes of silence. “Won’t be able to come? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re going to be at the camp in a few hours so I won’t be able to see you while you’re there...not to mention if this mission is a success and we get the explosive kid, that means I’ll have to be at the base more to keep watch and whatever. So I stayed today to be with you just a little more...” He said, not lifting his gaze from the TV during that whole monologue.

It now dawns on you, Dabi won’t be able to come in the evenings to spend the nights with you. “Oh” was the only word that left your mouth, unable to comprehend just how much this moment truly proved your feelings towards Dabi.

With a gentle smile on your lips, the slightest pink dusting the corners of your cheeks, you replayed his words over and over like a broken record. The smile on your face growing little by little as you thought of your own parents, who seemingly didn’t want you, just to then have Dabis words replay again and again assuring you there was someone who wanted ‘to be with you just a little more...’

The thought making you leap into his chest for a hug neither of you expected yet both enjoyed. “Uh, you okay Y/N?” He asked, patting you on the head. “Yeah! Can we - Can we just stay like this for a few minutes...please?”

“Sure, doll”

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

That was your final interaction with Dabi this morning, shortly after getting up and leaving to go to UA. The moment you closed your door you hoped wholeheartedly you could see him in a few days, unscathed and exactly as you left him.

“Yo, dumbass! Move so I can get off the damn bus.” “Ah Bakugou...always one to ruin the peaceful atmosphere.” You mumble as you grabbed your stuff and got off the bus.

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

“No more...” you mumble to yourself after the 8 hour trail down the mountain accompanied by some sort of clay beasts. While no one was paying attention, you quickly shot a text to Tomura with your current location. Your mentors for the duration of the camp, the Pussycats, praise you for the job well done and tell everyone to go to the dining hall for dinner and afterwards, take a bath and relax. The bath was a close call thanks to a certain pervert trying to scale the wall but thanks to the Kota he fell flat in the bath with a most endearing cry of pain, making the sadistic side of you giggle.

The next day was all about quirk training. Aizawa explained that everyone has grown emotionally but now was the time to focus on physical growth. Everyone got set up with personalized training, such as Bakugou dunking his hands in boiling water or Sero producing tape nonstop. You got set up with your own training regime and solely focused on that till about 4 PM - with the exception of a few breaks where you decided to snoop around a bit and ask one of the Pussycats if there were going to be more teachers here later on and the next days activities.

After the excruciating training, everyone was given the task of making dinner for the night, that being curry.

You smiled to yourself as you reminisced on the last time you made curry.

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

You made your way home, exhausted and sore from the sparing session you just had with Dabi. He was merciless but you couldn’t deny the immeasurable help he provided, pushing himself and you past your limits after such a tiring day.

You opened the door to your apartment and set what little ingredients you got on the way back. “So Dabi, what do you want to eat?” You asked, expecting him to ramble on and on about some complicated meals, forcing you to make a whole feast.

“Curry.” The one word response had you looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “That’s it? Just curry?” “Yeah, got a problem with it or something?” He questioned, sitting on the couch with you following shortly. “No, not at all. I was just expecting something...more?” “You want me to name more? Ok, let’s start with-...”

“No, no. Too late now, I’m gonna go make the best damn curry you’ve ever had in your life.” You jump up before he can get a word in and head straight for the kitchen.

He looked at the direction you ran off to, a small smile making it’s way on his face as he thought of the enthusiasm you displayed just to cook some food. He’d never tell you, but the only reason he asked for just curry is because it was easier to make, filling and took less time. He knew you were exhausted, mentally (from the meeting with HandMan) and physically (from your intense training session), so he wanted to lessen the burden. This is when he truly began to care for someone again, to care for their well-being. The thought putting an even bigger smile on his face.

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

Somewhere in the distance, on a cliff overlooking the whole forest lay 4 villains. 2 who you were very familiar with, that being Dabi and Toga. The last 2 you’ve never met before (thanks to your decrease in bar visits). One stood tall with a mask covering his face and a cloak covering his whole body from head to toe while the other had some sort of gasmask. 

“Throbbing, it’s throbbing. Let’s hurry up already” The one with a mask covering his face said, antsy to start a fight. “Need I remind you Muscular of the one person you can’t fight?” Dabi asked, turning with a glare towards the said villain. 

“Some (hair color and length) haired bitch with (eye color) eyes, riiight? What does it matter if I fight her? If I just passed her wouldn’t it seem suspicious? How about I break a few bones for good measure?” He taunted with a shit eating grin adorning his face. “Do that and I burn you till there's nothing left, not even ashes...” Dabi answered with full confidence, knowing he could easily cremate him - even with his quirk. 

He scoffed, side-eyeing him. “What’s even the deal with her? Is she your personal slut or something? If she’s here, that means she’s a hero or student right? And I came here to fuck up every hero, present or future.” 

Dabi, just about having enough of his ‘colorful’ language towards you turns but gets cut of by Toga. “Oh don’t be silly, how do you think we know the location of the camp? She’s the traitor amongst them.” 

“Exactly, so we are currently here waiting for her to send a message about tomorrows activities and the attack plan.” Dabi monotonously to everyone he was already forming a plan to keep him as far away from you as possible.

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

A new morning dawns and a new day of quirk training begins. Everyone resumed their training like normal except you who was more than visibly nervous thanks to the attack happening this evening at the test of courage. 

By some miracle, you were able to locate a schedule left behind by one of the Pussycats detailing how after dinner there was going to be a test where Class B will try to scare Class A to prove their courage and creatively use their quirks. It seemed like the perfect opportunity given that Bakugou will be with one person in the middle of the woods without any teachers nearby.

When the time came you were paired up with Midoriya to be the last pair to enter the woods.

‘Perfect’ There was no better scenario, you will be able to go to the cabin in no time once the students will be inevitably forbidden to fight unless there was a need for it.

The fifth team, Uraraka and Tsuyu, have just left into the forest leaving you, Midoriya, Ojiro, Mineta, Iida, Koji and the Pussycats.

You’ve sort of isolated yourself from the group because you couldn’t act like everything's fine while in reality you were practically shaking with nerves. The problem was, you weren’t afraid for your well being, you were terrified for Dabis. You knew he was a more than capable fighter since you have sparred with him on more than one occasion but that still did little to ease your nerves.

Just as you were about to question what’s taking them so long you felt a harsh scent of black smoke in the air.

‘Ah, only Dabi can create such a fire to the point of instantly calming my nerves with the warmth it spreads.’ you thought as your attention was brought back by Pixie-bob’s head being smashed into the ground thanks to Magne, and Spinners instantaneous voice breaking the silence.

Game on...

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

As instructed by the Pussycats you, Iida, Mineta, Koji and Ojiro ran towards the camp where you would have no other part in this attack. Your nerves for Dabi were hidden by the fact everyone thought it was because of the villains. You no longer needed to hide the fact you were shaking, eyes wide as saucers and slowly tearing up as you ran full speed trying to get away from the situation behind you.

Just a little more

Just a little...

“SENSEI!” The boys yelled for Aizawa the moment they saw the villain he pinned down...the same villain you hopped was far, far away from here...

“D-dabi...” You muttered, way behind anyone to hear as you stopped the moment the clearing came into view. ‘It can’t be...’ The thought of can and can’t leaving your mind the moment his head turned in your direction, making direct eye contact for just a second. In that second you clearly saw Dabis gorgeous teal eyes looking at you as if he didn’t expect you to be here.

You started heaving, chest rising up and down rapidly as you processed the scene in front of you. What was he doing here? You specifically warned him about Aizawa and that he couldn’t possibly fight him one on one. Dabi wasn’t the physical type, he relied on his quirk too much making him unable to fight someone like Aizawa for he would lose fast and hard.

You gulped feeling bile rise to your throat as you thought of your next move. No way...no way were you letting Dabi get caught. It would cost you your cover but you didn’t care. Taking a step closer, you decided to use the element of surprise to shock Aizawa with a simple attack, enough to distract him so you and Dabi could escape.

Before that could happen, Dabi used Aizawas shock at your arrival to get out of his hold and stand up. “This is as much damage as I can take, huh?” What did he mean by...that?

“Hey hero...” The capturing weapon gets tighter around him until it goes right threw him, revealing that the Dabi Aizawa was fighting was nothing more than a clone. “Are your students important?” He asked whilst looking at him straight in the eyes and disappearing into nothing but some brown sludge on the ground.

You couldn’t believe it...you almost blew your cover for a fucking clone...

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“Ah, dollface what took you so long?” Dabi asks as you enter the bar in full disguise - a hood covering your hair and a mask covering 3/4 of your face. It’s a pretty simple porcelain mask covering the top half of your face and half of your mouth with a complex pattern around the eyes. You even bought a voice-changer for this specific ‘guest’ of yours so he wouldn’t recognize you.

“Had some trouble after the mission” You answered, your voice (deeper/higher) than normal and a bit more mature-sounding. You walked up to Bakugou, chained to the chair like some sort of animal, examining for any injuries received during the attack. He lowly growled his disapproval for your proximity and told you to back off, which you complied to. Stepping to the farthest corner of the room away from everyone else you sat there while Tomura had a chat with him.

After a while it got extremely boring just hearing constant ‘join us’ and ‘no’-s. “What’s got you so moody doll? You haven’t even said hi.” Dabi whispered as he leaned on the wall close to you.

“Nothing Dabi, I’m just not in the mood to talk.” Was your only response as you got up and made your way to the back of the bar. “Say, Bakugou-kun. Do you want anything to eat? Drink? You haven’t had anything in a while now, and the situation surely can’t be helping that”

“I don’t want anything your shitty ass makes, it would probably taste like crap anyways.” As if on cue, his stomack faintly growls signaling his obvious hunger. You rolled your eyes taking the simple sandwich you made to stand in front of him.

“Look Bakugou-kun. You can either eat this sandwich you watched me make so you could be assured I didn’t spike it, or you can sit there hungry until you starve. Your choice.” “And how am I supposed to eat with my hand completely restrained dumbass?”

“Aaw, does the baby want me to feed him then?” “FUCK NO YOU CUNT!” You giggled to yourself, amused at how Bakugou could be in this situation yet be so feisty at the same time.

During the whole conversation Dabi looked at you and him spitefully. So you didn’t want to talk to him yet you can joke with the brat like it’s second nature? He fumed on the inside yet kept quite as Shigaraki had something to say.

“That’s enough out of you (villain name). Leave it at the table and sit down.” You huffed yet complied as you sat in your previous position near Dabi. “So what was that about?” He tried to ask, emotionless as ever. “What was what about?” You ask, avoiding his burning gaze at the side of your face.

“That? You refuse to speak to me and immediately after hang around the brat as if he were your boyfriend. Mind telling me what I did so wrong for this sort of treatment?” It was subtle, but you could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. This made you angrier and more annoyed than you previously were. What right did he have to be upset with you?

“Oh, I don’t know Dabi.” You sarcastically said as his name dripped like poison from your lips. “Maybe it was the fact you didn’t bother to tell me you had Twice make clones to distract Eraser. Or the fact I almost blew my cover trying to rescue a goddamn clone!” You whisper shouted, making sure no one but him caught the last part.

Meanwhile Tomura was giving Bakugou some speech about how corrupt hero society really is. You didn’t really pay attention thanks to the anger slowly boiling in your veins towards the man in front of you.

“Is that all? Really? You’re an idiot if you planned to do something as stupid as try to help ‘me’ escape, even if that wasn’t a clone.” His jealousy and anger ranting before the logical side of his brain could speak as he glared at you with anger, confusion and a hint of sadness. “I didn’t know you were going to retreat back to the camp. For all I knew, you were around the explosive kid over there. Was that why you were so apposed to this mission, you didn’t want us kidnapping your little boyfriend and him finding out the truth?”

Taken aback you do nothing but look at him as Tomura says to let Bakugou go (his order not reaching your ears because of your own conversation). He ignored him and simply told Twice to do it as he was still expecting an answer from you.

“I can’t believe it...you know full well why I rejected this plan and it was NOT for something so - so implausible.” You shake your head as your voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

“And what do you mean that’s all? I was scared for you, I actually believed you went to fight Eraser on your own. I wanted to help you because I care for you, I couldn’t possibly see you behind bars knowing I could’ve prevented it!”

“I never asked for you to care for me!” He didn’t even let you finish your little rant, slowly loosing what little patience he had, his calm-ish charade cracking. “There is no reason why you would waste your time with that and risk all the time you put into...infiltrating them.” He whispered the last part as he noticed several eyes drawn to the conversation.

“No...reason?” You looked at him in disbelief “Of course there’s a reason! I could never NOT care for you” Your voice, along with you agitation, slowly went higher as the sentence continued. “WHY? Why would you care enough to risk everything?!” He followed your lead, voice getting louder.

“BECAUSE I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

...

You could literally hear a pin drop at the end of your outburst. Everyone looked at you two. Even Shigaraki, who was now in front of an unrestrained Bakugou - who took advantage of the moment and set off an explosion right in his face, causing ‘father’ to be knocked off.

Everyone looked mortified, you most of all for both your outburst and the new development in Bakugous case, knowing that he was most likely going to get killed now.

“My bad for ruining the moment but I’ve listened to his endless talking long enough. Idiots can’t get to the point so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically you mean ‘We wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right?”

Oh he was soo fucked.

But what surprised you the most was the fact Shigaraki didn’t attack. No, he even ordered to not even touch him. Was this really Shigaraki? In any other situation he would instantly decay any person that dares touch ‘father’ let alone knock him off his face. He just calmly picked up ‘father’, placed it on his face and continued to talk. Has he...matured?

You though in complete disbelief, forgetting your outburst from a minute ago. But the person beside you refused to look away from your side profile, even to see Shigarakis next actions.

‘In love’ being the only phrase in his mind.

While there was a stare down happening between Shigaraki and Bakugou, a knock sounded from the door.

“Hello, this is Pizza-La, Camino store.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion as you looked around the room. “The fuck? Who ordered piz-...”

You weren’t even able to finish you question when a loud and obnoxious “SMAAASH!” was heard throughout the bar as, low and behold, All Might comes crashing threw the wall, throwing debris in every which direction making it impossible to see for a few seconds due to the dust that came along with it.

Those few seconds proved incredibly important as you weren’t able to see a piece of brick flying straight for your face, cracking your mask almost down the middle, barely keeping itself up at that point. The breeze that accompanied almost threw your hood down but thankfully Dabi was there to secure it into place. You looked at him, being reminded of your earlier mistake but quickly focused on the battle as Kamui Woods came next and captured everyone.

As Dabi was focusing on setting the trees on fire he didn’t notice Gran Torino who instantly knocked him out with a single kick. You screamed out his name, your voice-changer not functioning as your scream cracked in the middle, revealing your real voice for a second.

When Kurohiri tried to summon the Nomu waiting in the secret location, he was unable to teleport them as they seemed to be missing from their usual spot. Next he tried to teleport everyone out but was promptly knocked out by Edgeshot who seemed prepared for his next move.

‘No’...You were surrounded, unable to lift a finger and your mask slowly cracking and sliding down your face. ‘What now..think Y/N, think...’

“Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interest to stay put?” Gran Torino said as he began calling out every villain in the bar.

...Kenji Hikiiski

...Atsuhiro Sako

...Shuicki Iguchi

...Himiko Toga

...Jin Bubaigawara

You waited with bated breath...waited for your own name to be called out, maybe even Dabis but that’s where the list ended. ‘That’s it? That means they don’t know who I am just yet.’ The ray of hope diminishing the moment you realized the condition of your mask, as soon as it falls off every single person in the room will know your identity. Your heartbeat began to pick up it’s pace, panic setting in.

You looked around the room, trying to think of something...anything! that could possibly help in this situation. Your focus breaking the moment Tomura shouted ‘I hate you’ towards the no.1 hero.

Grayish-black liquid encompassed everyone in the bar, including yourself. ‘The Hell?! What is this?’ You thought panicking even more until Tomura mumbled on word.

‘Master?’ You questioned...MASTER, OF COURSE!

Relief set in at the thought of master saving you, looking over at Dabi you couldn’t help the serene close of your eyes the moment you saw him getting teleported as well. Thank God.

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

You fell to the ground with a thud as you looked at your surroundings. Everyone was here, including Bakugou, with master standing in the front speaking to Tomura. You quickly looked around spotting Dabi on the ground, laying still unconscious.

Quickly picking yourself of the ground you made your way to Dabi, picking his head up and laying it on your thighs so he could be somewhat comfortable, even if he wasn’t awake yet. However, you felt your mask cracking completely and falling to the ground. You quickly set your gaze downwards before Bakugou could get a look at your face, thankfully he seemed to be preoccupation with starring at master, a quite intimidating man who, by the looks of it, defeated 3 pro’s by himself, including the no.4 hero Best Jeanist.

Discreetly, you tugged on Mr. Compresses pant leg. “Atsuhiro, I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but could you give me your mask?” You ask whilst taking a peak at him to show him your mask completely broke.

“Of course, Y/N. Here.” He whispered back, handing you his mask. You mumbled your thanks as you looked at master who was having his own monologue.

“You’re here, after all, aren’t you?” ‘Oh for fucks sake, it isn’t over yet?’

Like an instant headache, All Might comes swooping in from the sky, attacking master instantly. Toga comes to you, protecting you since you couldn’t use your quirk with All Might and Bakugou here...plus the few uninvited guests behind a wall of debris. This just got a whole lot more interesting.

You let Atsuhiro use his quirk on Dabi whilst you took the pearl, securing it in your small weapons carrier you had for these types of situations. As instructed, everyone began attacking Bakugou hopping to recapture him.

While you were in the air thanks to some attack strategies you planned out with the rest a while back, you noticed Midoriya, Kirishima, Iida and Todoroki getting ready to execute some sort of plan to get to Bakugou. You landed just in time to see them propell themselves using Midoriyas quirk and then using Iidas boosters on Todorokis ice to fly high and fast. Kirishima yelled for Bakugou to come to them - which he did.

Ah, a truly brilliant strategy to save Bakugou whilst not engaging in head to head battle. You noticed Todoroki and Yaoyorozu making a quick escape but only smirked as you watched them leave. A sort of apology from you to them.

Since there was no longer a reason to stay, master urged us to leave, forcing Magnes unconscious body to propel every male towards you and Himiko, who were conveniently placed in front of the portal he forced Kurogiri to make a few minutes prior.

‘Well, this is gonna hurt’ You thought as 3 guys came crashing into you full force.

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

Dabi suddenly awoke with a searing headache, he couldn’t focus on his surroundings let alone remember what happened the moment prior to him pacing out.

“Good morning, here are some painmeds if the headache gets worse and the water is next to the bed on the table. I’ll be coming back every hour to check up on you, so don’t worry, get some rest and sleep it off.” You quickly mumbled as you noticed Dabi was finally awake after a few hours of taking care of him and non-stop worrying. Before he could make sense of the situation, you quickly left the room to go God knows where.

As he was left alone for a few seconds he finally remembered what happened a few hours prior, the old geezer of a hero knocked him out when he was about to burn the restraints off everyone. He looked around the room, noticing he was in a unfamiliar surrounding. A black blanket covering his form, a small work desk not even 2 meters away from him and a wardrobe on the opposite end of the room.

After analyzing his surrounding he remembered your brief words to him before your departure, everything slowly falling into place. He got injured so you took him to your apartment and cared for him until he awoke.

He also remembered your last conversation, or rather confession. He knew he needed to go to you and make sense of the whole situation but he was unable to get off the bed as he felt something restraining his left arm.

Handcuffs - kinky, but currently not appreciated.

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

For the past 2 hours you’ve been in the kitchen making all sorts of dishes just to pass the time and make up excuses not to go to your room. It’s been fun while it lasted but you couldn’t avoid this any more, what ere you going to do? Starve him to avoid him?

You made your way to the room, a millimeter away from the doorknob, second-guessing this whole thing. You turned around to leave and buy yourself another hour but a voice was heard on the other side of the door.

“You know, it’s quite rude to say you’ll be back in an hour and then leave for 2.”

‘Fuck’ was your sole thought as you entered the room, completely unaware of his expression as you looked to the foot of the bed, avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

“Sorry...the food took a bit more time to prepare than I thought” You mumbled as you made your way to the table near his bed, placing everything neatly and getting ready to leave.

As you turned around he grabbed you with his left arm, stopping you in your tracks. “You know we need to talk dollface.” He said as he pulled you a little closer to the bed.

“What’s there to talk about Dabi? I made a fool of myself in front of the whole League and practically yelled something neither of us was ready to hear... - wait” You exclaimed as soon as you noticed something was off. “Didn’t I cuff your left hand to the bed-?”

As soon as the thought left you he yanked you completely onto the bed, trapping you between himself and the mattress. Comfortably straddling your legs and cuffing both of your arms, in record time, to the bed frame so you couldn't struggle.

“ThE Hell are you DOing?” Your voice comes out as a shriek due to the immense surprise you felt in that predicament.

“Dabi, gEt off! You’re heavy and this is NOT the time to tease me” Tears formed in your eyes and your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, your struggling coming to an end once you realized he wasn’t budging. You gazed at his face, biting your tongue in anticipation for his next move.

He moved even closer if that was possible, looking at you straight in the eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

“What do you mean ‘you think’ you’re in love with me?”

Being caught off guard by the unexpected question, you just dumbly hummed a quiet ‘huh?’

“You said it earlier loud and clear, ‘I think I’m in love with you’, are you not sure Y/N?” The moment he used your real name instead of doll or dollface, you knew he was completely serious, no hint of sarcasm or malice laced in his voice as he kept on starring at your wide eyes.

His eyes encouraged you, silently begging for an answer as you moved your gaze away from him - a distraught look on your face.

“I...don’t know...” He slowly backed off, ready to get off you at your short response. “I get it...” But you continued before he could uncuff you and leave.

“I don’t know what it’s like to love someone! I- I have never had parental love, no friends and I certainly don’t know what it’s like to have romantic feelings since no one ever knew me and fully accepted me for me!” You quickly responded with your eyes closed, fearing his expression.

“Every time someone tried to talk to me I immediately thought ‘What if they find out I’m a villain, what if they don’t listen to my reasoning and stab me in the back the moment I turn around?’ I’m afraid of people abandoning me as soon as it gets dangerous! I can’t go threw that, not again!“ You quietly sob as one of your eyes opened, unable to see Dabi clearly threw the tears.

“But not you, you protected me and cared for me. I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you to hate me. I love it when you break into my apartment, I love it when you eat with me, I love it when you train with me, I love it when you accidentally fall asleep on me, I love your perverted comments and even your complaints,

I love YOU Dabi!”

You finished, finally looking at him straight in the eyes to make your point clear.

“That’s stupid” was his only response as he leaned backwards, sitting upright with a look you couldn’t describe. Baffled, you were unable to respond, feeling empty. You wish you could cry but you stared at him unblinkingly, asking why he thought it was ‘stupid’.

“You say I know everything important in your life, your past, your present. And you’re right. I care for you deeply, more than I’d like to admit, I want for you to succeed, I want you to be happy because of all I know about you. But that doesn’t go both ways.” You could only stare at him as he continued his monologue.

“ I have a lot more baggage than you’re ready for, doll. You claim to love me when you know nothing about me, not even my name.”

“So let me get to know you.” Was your simple answer. “You’re right, I don’t know your past but I do know you now. You’re a firm believer in Stains ideology, you prefer spicy over sweet and you snore when you sleep.” You giggle at the end, remembering the first time you were there when he slept.

“I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to put in the effort to try. I want to get to know you Dabi and I want to help carry that baggage you so desperately need help with, that is, if you’re willing to give me a chance?”

“I was hoping you’d say something so cheesy.”  Without missing a beat, his lips smashed ageings yours with fervor and a clear goal in mind to show you just how much he cares.

The different texture creating an almost intoxicating feeling, but of course, a simple peck was no good in his book. He tugged at your bottom lip as you complied almost instantly. His tongue invaded your mouth, creating incredible friction with his tongue piercing you didn’t know he had.

The longer the kiss lasted the faster his hands started roaming your body, every dip and every curve being explored with his abnormally warm hands. You wanted nothing more than to return the favor but unfortunately your hands were tied to the bed and no matter how much you struggled you couldn’t get free.

“D-Dabi...” You said in between impossibly short breaks he took for air. “Uncuff me, hah, I want- I want to touch you too.” You pleaded with a fog in your eyes, not being able to focus on anything other than the man in front of you - who situated himself between your legs during your little request.

“Not a chance doll, do you know what you did to me every time you teased me, even as a joke? Well now it’s payback time.” He finished whilst simultaneously sliding your shirt up to your hands, revealing your chest clad in nothing but a deep purple bra.

He went straight for your neck with a goal to leave the biggest and darkest mark humanly possible. He bit down, sucked and licked every surface your neck had to offer, leaving a few dark bruises in his wake. He bit down particularly hard on a spot just bellow your collarbone, breaking your silence as you let out a barely audible gasp and mewl.

He thrived on the thought that you didn’t mind some pain with your pleasure, smirking sadistically as you tried to ignore the hard-on that was pressing against your thigh. But the more you wiggled and squirmed the more prominent the bulge got, pressing higher and higher.

His hands move stealthily, agonizingly slowly against your chest and over to the back where he proceeded to remove it by burning the straps off. His knuckles barely brush against your now bare nipples as he eased his way down, truly a tease. He took a moment to look at your eyes, piercing blue staring at crystal (eye color). His eyes displayed nothing but dominance and a need for pure, white hot pleasure, you’d shiver if it wasn’t for the overbearing heat coming from his body and actions.

He smiles lazily, his hands withdrawing completely and to your sides where he leans a bit over you to look at you straight in the eyes.

“Tell me princess, what do you want next?” He husks right into your ear as you put no thought in your answer. “Anything, I don’t care what you do just as long as you make me come.”

“That’s not very specific doll, use your words and pick one - tongue or fingers” He situated himself back between your legs, taking off your shorts and (not so subtly) stares at your matching lingerie, taking in the dark spot with an ever growing smirk. “How about both?”

“Now that’s an answer I like.” His palms slowly drag up your calves as he places kisses along your thighs, getting closer and closer to the spot you wanted, needed the most. His fingers inch up higher and higher, under your lingerie, kneading the flesh of your ass. His tongue trails along your lower lips, getting only a taste of what’s to come.

You roll your hips to meet the sway of his tongue, feeling his fingers slide between the straps of your underwear, dragging it down in one quick movement. “Dabi...” You try to distract him from his starring as he lowers his head, immediately lapping up the slick that accumulated during his previous ministrations. You moan his name again, albeit louder than you previously thought you could.

He pokes his tongue against your entrance, slowly entering you with the mission to taste as much as his tongue would allow him. You’re moans increasing in volume once his tongue left your entrance and decided to tease your swollen bundle of nerves just above it.

What you weren’t prepared for was a singe digit making it’s way to your entrance, going in knuckle deep on the first go. “Fuck” You half moaned, half whined. You weren’t used to such an intrusion, his fingers being much larger and much longer than your own. You couldn’t deny the pleasure that started accumulating the more he moved his finger at an unforgiving pace and lapped up your clit as if it was the last time he could.

As time passed he added more fingers until he finally got to 3. By that time, the coil slowly building up was ready to burst and make for an unimaginable orgasm. You were moaning his name as if it was the only word you knew which, for the moment, wasn’t incorrect.

The moment he felt your walls constricting he quickly got up, leaving you empty and needy. He was even cruel enough to hold your legs apart so you wouldn’t even be able to rub your thighs together, he only watched as your walls tightened around nothing.

“Dabi, you jackass!” was your only reply, along with whines of protest as he got up and undressed himself completely - making a little show of his last piece of garment. Your whines and complaints instantly getting caught in your throat as you looked at the picture-perfect image in front of you. His scars perfectly contrasting his healthy skin. Your eyes wondering lower and lower until you got to the godly sight of his fully erect and weeping with precum cock. Drool practically pooling at the back of your throat as you looked at the image before you. His cock wasn’t really anything special when it came to length, but the part that got you wide eyed was the sheer girth of it and the Jacob’s ladder running from the base to the tip accompanied with a prince albert piercing at the very tip of his manhood.

“Aren’t you glad you waited Y/N? Would you have rather came around my fingers or around my cock?” He teased, fully aware of your sole concentration on his girth. “Say, I’m getting a little dizzy doll, how ‘bout you take the lead?” You  fervently nodded your head, eager to have him fully sheathed inside you, not carrying about the position as long as you could get off. “Good girl” was his only response as he took the handcuffs off you.

Without missing a beat you grabbed him by the shoulders, flipping your positions and setting his back against the headboard so you could comfortably straddle his lap. He tried to tease you about your neediness but ultimately failed as you ground your hips against him, making you both sigh in a short lived relief. It felt like an explosion behind your eyes, getting all the confidence you needed just from his faint growls.

His chest is pressed against yours, nipples rubbing on rough skin creating friction almost too much to bare. Fuck, you really needed more.Your heart pounds against your ribcage, creating an almost painful sensation as you start another lewd kiss, teeth clashing and tongues meeting in the middle.

His hand lands on your hip, the other teasing your folds apart as you get ready for the main event. The tip presses against your entrance, piercing creating an indescribable feeling as you slowly descent. You can feel yourself heavily breathing, pussy throbbing at the stretch of his girth.

Obviously he had a hard time keeping still as he almost breaks the skin of his lips. ‘No more waiting’ was your single though as you began a faster pace, bouncing on his cock, feeling stretched beyond belief. At the first sign of your pleasure, he began slamming upwards, matching the descent of your hips. You were sure the vice like grip he had on your hips would leave pretty noticeable marks but that was currently the last of your problems.

The feeling of his piercings rubbing against your velvety walls accompanied by the undeniable pleasure you felt as he hit the deepest spots inside of you was enough to make you moan akin to a pornstar. The look on your face, the sounds you made and the feeling of your iron tight grip had him slamming you faster, harder.

“FucK, Dabi! I-I want to come! So, sO badly” you’re moaning, mumbling words of praise to the man beneath you. He doesn’t react much except for quite, deep groans. But you didn’t mind at all, attaching your lips once more for a short kiss as you continued moaning his name like a broken record.

Your mouth doesn’t stop trembling as you scream out a final ‘Dabi’, collapsing into his chest as he continues chasing his own high. He pulls out, finishing in his hand and a little bit of it ending on your lower back, neither of you minding as he quickly cleans it and lays on his side with you comfortably in his arms, facing away from him.

“I love you Dabi, I truly do.” were your final words as you closed your eyes. What you didn’t expect was for him to continue.

“Touya...call me Touya”

You were confused for a second until you realized ‘Ah, that must be his real name.’ You wished to continue the conversation, but the exhaustion finally hit you all at once so you were only able to mumble a quite ‘Allright, I love you Touya...’

He wasn’t sure if you heard him when he said ‘I love you too Y/N’ but that didn’t matter now. He could say it all he wants from now on.

[danideservedbetter]

Alright so, here’s how things are gonna work.

First off, welcome to this side blog. Since it won’t be jolly fun fandom content and will be a little more personal I decided to separate my health and writing journey from my fandom stuff, although all my fandom content will still be linked on my main blog here.

(I write Izuocha/bnha content which isn’t super popular so if you’re not here for that then yeah, I don’t blame you. But if you are I have a link to our discord and community content pinned so def check it out if you’re interested.)

Secondly, you guys will hear details about stuff relating to my health like what kinds of things affect my disorder based on the tests some doctors are ordering, how I’m trying to improve my diet and activity, and routines and goals I’m attempting for myself. I am underweight, and that’s something I’m going to be talking a bit about, so if that’s triggering following this blog might not be the best thing for you. Details under the cut.

So, what kind of disorder do I have and why did I decide to make a health journey blog? My disorder is called idiopathic hypersomnia. Basically what that means is that when my disorder is acting up (based on factors like stress especially or my generalized anxiety rearing its ugly head) I have the capacity to sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. My longest recorded uninterrupted “sleep-attack” was 26 hours long and ever since I caught Covid in January, my body had been slowly growing weaker to the point I was starting to develop atrophy. I’ve had this ten years and my neurologist suspects inactive cells from mononucleosis I caught at 14 was the cause, because other IH patients have linked their sleeping problems to a case of mono or have had it at some point in their lives.

This disease stole many years and many things I’ve looked forward to from me. I lost friends and experiences and failed so many college classes I had to drop out.

I’ve decided I’m taking them back.

It’s not going to be easy. Just as it took ten years to convince myself that my tiredness was something I chose to give into, it took several extra years and many fights with my family to convince them that I had a real actual neurological disorder and that I need help sometimes. My parents and grandmother finally understand that I have to finish college and find a very special boss willing to work around my erratic progress on projects, but the outsiders they married are not as convinced. My grandmother’s husband kicked me out of their house because he wants to be the center of attention and doesn’t like that some days I’m so weak that I needed my grandmother’s help, and my father’s wife thinks I’m a lazy and ungrateful leech who “gets anxiety just being around” me. Both told my father I’ll never be happy so why even bother with me, but my dad is actually striving to understand his own recently-diagnosed PTSD so while we still butt heads he’s understanding that I have to take things day by day because every tiny circumstance affects my disorder.

Now, why did I decide to air all this out? Well, being open about my disorder and how it affects me has helped at least two people that I know of find out that the tiredness they experience isn’t the typical “American work force exhaustion” they were trained to believe is normal. So if I can help even one more, I’ll gladly talk about what this entails and how I deal with it day to day. Another reason is that I’m also one of those big advocates who believes talking candidly about mental health destigmatizes it and sharing ideas can help us grow as people and maybe make it a little easier to deal with.

So now that you know a little bit about me and my disorder, here are my big goals for the next three months provided my university takes pity on me and actually lets me go back.

First up: create routines to train my body to get used to living a full day fully awake. This includes waking up at the same time and going to sleep at the same time. It means getting dressed and going out and doing things, even little things— which I’ll get to in a sec.

Second: I write. I have a novel in limbo and I write fanfics. Writing is a big part of who I am and I’ve written one thing this year, which for a whole six-month stretch is upsetting and disappointing. Today is my reset. In the next 569 days I want to to finish the six stories I have in limbo (except the larger one) and finally reach my goal of posting 200k words in a single year. I wont be hard on myself if I can’t accomplish this because honestly finishing anything in the chaos of my life is going to be a miracle but. There ya go.

Third: go back to freakin college. I don’t care what it takes. Sit down with every official, every lawyer, and every professor it takes to get me back enrolled in classes in the fall.

Fourth: I have several smaller things I have to do, short term goals, stuff like that. I’m gonna create a to do list each day of small tasks I want to get done and while some of these things will be part of my daily routine I am throwing in like one or two things a day that just need to be done. My writing goal will change daily and I’ll keep y’all updated on that with every post I make.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Dani! That’s so much!! Well, a few months ago I remembered hey!! I basically have a computer in my hand, why make it hard on myself. So I downloaded certain apps to help me out. This isn’t me saying “hey go subscribe to these apps because I said so” it’s just that through a lot of trial and error I’ve come to find that these certain apps work for me and I’ve yet to come across one that has the functionality of everything I need.

Tiimo — so this is an app I found developed by people with autism for people with autism to help them develop good habits and routines. It has preset daily schedules (things like morning routines or nightly routines or work routines) and an internal alarm to let you know when to move on to the next task. I myself have extremely low-level aspergers (to the point where my doctor won’t give me an official diagnosis because I didn’t want people think that *it’s* the reason I have issues with school), so moving from task to task can be difficult sometimes and I also deal with getting distracted. This widget also appears on my home screen so I know what I have to do at a glance. You can program in weekly and daily tasks to fully customize your schedule, which is fantastic for someone like me who wants to for example rotate chores. This is hopefully going to help me get my body in the habit of adjusting to routines and transitioning from one task to another, as well as getting important things done responsibly.

Promptly Journals — I’ve been told for a while that journaling is helpful mentally to kind of recenter yourself, so a bit ago I downloaded several journal apps to add to my morning routine. Now some will prefer more creatively free journals, but I prefer this one that gives me small prompts I can do in a short amount of time that just allows me to get my thoughts down. I can even add pictures at the bottom that go with the theme! I’m scared I’ll run out of prompts eventually lol but until then this app works very well for my needs.

Stretchingexercise — Now idk if it’s from lack of sleep from my disorder, the position I sleep in when I do sleep, all the physical labor I’ve had to do in the past couple weeks, my medicine, or w h a t but I suffer from body aches like no one would believe. I know stretching is supposed to help with that, so I downloaded this app to help me do non-demanding physical activity that wakes me up in the mornings and helps relieve pain so I don’t keep having to take pain relievers. This one has different plans for things like muscle tension, back pain, warm ups— and it also gives you rudimentary weight updates (I’m underweight lololol so we’re looking to fix that) or plan updates. It’s worked really well for me so far and gives you animations and descriptions of the workouts (some taken from yoga) as well as timed breaks and a narrated guide. It’s been pretty helpful in temporary relief and if nothing else gets my blood flowing in the mornings.

Widgetsmith Step counter — in addition to the stretching thing one thing my doctor and I discussed that helps with the sedentary lifestyle is simply walking. I’ve needed so bad to relieve my stamina and reverse the atrophy, and walks have been stellar for that. Now I live in the New Orleans area so humidity and heat force me to go at the crack of Dawn, but honestly my weenie dachshund Charlie really enjoys our time out so he goes with me! The CDC recommends 10,000 steps a day which seems like a lot and it is if you don’t get out much. But this gives me an excuse to get dressed and do the hygienic thing and help Charlie be healthy too, as well as give me time for brainstorming because we walk in a truly beautiful area. I’m sure everyone installed widgetsmith with the last iOS update (Apple users anyway) and while at first the step counter was just interesting I’ve since come to rely on it! We do our 5000 in the morning, which of course is half, and I find that other things I do throughout the day typically drive the counter higher. Anything leftover can easily be accomplished by an evening walk in our neighborhood. Now the caveat is that I have to remote have my phone in my pocket because I don’t own a watch or anything fancy lol, but honestly I need to keep it on me anyway so that serves as a good reminder.

Todoist — this one is my FAVORITE. Ever since I’ve decided that I have trouble keeping track of things I need to do and small stuff I need to keep in mind and appointments, etc, I decided to find a list app. This is the one I found that absolutely helps me for everything from my list of room supplies I need to buy, to my reading list, to general tasks I have coming up I need to complete. And its widget functionality keeps it right on my Home Screen! More organized individuals can just use tiimo, but I’m definitely not one of those individuals so this app is sorely needed and appreciated.

And of course, I know building habits the first few weeks is HARD. So for days my body doesn’t respond to my alarms, I have a checklist of the key things I have to do to keep my life as functional as possible.

So that’s that on that. I’m going to try to keep writing updates and my daily goals in a post in the morning, and reblog what I accomplished in the evening. It’s gonna be tough. But I’m thinking if I can start small I’ll be able to build my stamina enough to return to college and be successful when I do. I hope that anyone watching this journey draws some kind of meaning or inspiration from it. And you guys can even follow along if y’all want! Especially for writers or people trying to get healthier. I can’t promise what works for me will work for you (and honestly I expect things to change especially if I get accepted into college again) but hey, I figure it’s worth a shot.

I hope you guys enjoy watching this journey, if nothing else I hope it’s entertaining. And maybe it’ll be successful. I do know that I’m just gonna try for it, and hope it works out.

First daily update to follow

Xoxo

Dani

[joecial-distancing]

2021 Roundup!

Another month down, another chance to take stock and look back, and even better, it’s the end of the year! which meannnnns...... list season babey!

Before media lists, though, I want to double back on life highlights, how I did with 2021 goals, etc. there were a lot of them!

Highlights - I got into fermenting, which has been fun & delicious - Moved in with my girlfriend, which has been incredible - Started running again - Managed to do some traveling: went to Puerto Rico, and the American Southwest - Went to something like 5 weddings in three months - Finally went to get screened for ADHD, got the diagnosis, and started medication (substantial quality-of-life improvement!)

2021 Resolutions in review:

Get moving on jobsearch and figure out why it’s so hard for me to do This one’s finally got some momentum in the last stretch here, but it took way longer than I’d wanted. Originally was hoping to have this wrapped up over the summer.

Recommit to health: stretch more, and most importantly fix sleep schedule One-upped this by regularly going running again, though started slacking on stretching on non-running days. Committed extremely well to normalizing my sleep, though (helps to live with an early-to-bed/early-to-rise partner).

Reestablish routine of reading did pretty well with regular bedtime reading for a while, but started flagging pretty hard halfway through the year. Also I think I kind of burned myself out on too much Pynchon. I also gave up on a lot of books this year, which is probably healthy in the long run, but I still don’t like doing it. Hoping to recommit this one for next year

Write more: Ehhh, did monthly review posts here, wrote some stuff about Dune... not super happy with that output, but it’s more than nothing.

Take more initiative: specifically regarding friends and hobbies Did pretty bad with this one, I feel like if anything I’ve gotten even more reclusive.

Will cover 2022 resolutions in a different post once the year actually hits, I think

2021 media consumption tracking [toot toot]:

Books!

Real big-picture societal construction fascination happening this year, apparently. And/or a lot of Thomas Pynchon. Love his stuff, but will probably be good to take a break for a while

Midwest Futures: Really nice read, particularly myself being a child of the Midwest. Historical perspective as a place plotted, seized, and settled with the explicit goal of generating money, and the weirdness induced by regional mythmaking that papers over this history with an obsession with being The Average.

The Odyssey (Emily Wilson translation): Posted about this one a bit, but my big takeaways were 1.) this translation had me understanding meter and why it’s interesting in a much more visceral way than I’d really been exposed to before; and 2.) I keep trying to remember this story as seafaring adventures, when really the text is mostly about a guy and his son taking their shit back from people who you as the audience cannot wait to see get slaughtered.

Mason & Dixon: I finished this thinking it wasn’t one of my preferred Pynchons, but it keeps sneakily coming back to mind as I read other stuff involving 18th-century America (Midwest Futures, and particularly The Dawn of Everything). It’s also an interesting book to read as someone whose career has relied a lot on satellite imagery and land surveying — it has a lot to say on the way these means of interacting with the world comprise systems of control and submission. The survey line whose construction the majority of the book depicts comes to represent in no uncertain terms a sort of original sin for the land that will become the United States.

Kapital p1: Stalled out on this after the first section, unfortunately

The Shining: It was good to read an early King from before he’d really begun to solidify his preferred building blocks

Inherent Vice: Read this after watching the movie, which was maybe somewhat helpful for keeping anchored. The rare Pynchon where the writing itself wasn’t actively challenging. In a lot of ways it feels to me like a second pass on a lot of the stuff that he’d covered in Vineland, but delivered a lot more tightly and clean.

The Confidence-Man: Also tapped out on this one partway through. Felt like I’d gotten the gist of it, and wanted to move onto other stuff. Might revisit later.

Dune! (reread): For whatever reason, I’d had it in my head that Herbert’s weird proclivities didn’t start to poke through until later books, but even with this first one there’s a lot of various messiness that I think I hadn’t really picked up on back when I first read it. Like I was too busy trying to keep all the setting in my head to notice where he’s going with certain themes, and how entire long plot threads get no payoff whatsoever. Still an A+ read.

Against the Day: probably my second-favorite Pynchon, takes a real long walk through the transition of the 19th century to the 20th. In addition to stuff I’d written about this earlier, it puts a light onto aspects of the buildup to WWI that I otherwise probably wouldn’t have passively encountered, e.g. the relations of the Ottoman Empire against Austria-Hungary, the prevalence of anarchist movements, and the scale of the russian empire’s ethnic heterogeneity (if not equity).

Molloy: I tried so hard with this one, but had to tap out. Eyes sliding right off the page

The Master and Margarita: Russian Lit continuing to have a good hit rate for me. A very weird, funny, and often sweet read. High-tier devil depiction, though going with a Faust-inspired devil’s usually a winner. I really felt as the thing was winding down that it turned into a real case of a story made by a writer for fuckin writers, y’know? Which still works extremely well given the censorship jokes and the actual hellishness of this book’s publication history.

Mumbo Jumbo: I had a really bad sense the whole way through of which parts were meant to be satirical, and which were dead-serious but dressed as satirical (by which I mostly mean the knights templar stuff). The parable of Atonism toward the end was outstanding.

Bleeding Edge: Maybe I was burned out on Pynchon, maybe Pynchon was burned out on Pynchon, who can say really. Definitely a sense that I as a reader of Pynchon was being deliberately fucked with for being exactly that, which, fair play if so.

The Dawn of Everything: Book in progress!

Movies

Animal House: not all that good. Sorry to a generation that apparently grew up with this. Like seriously, there’s so many people I’ve encountered whose sense of humor is entirely beholden to like a particular era of SNL, it’s so fuckin annoying

Blues Brothers: Belushi twofer I guess. I liked the musician cameos and surprise carrie fisher appearance quite a bit.

Easy A: Think I prefer 10 Things I Hate About You for highschool lit adapted as teen movie, but pretty charming, still.

Mank: Not the kind of thing I really want to be going to David Fincher for.

Magnolia: an all-time favorite movie now. Absolutely wonderful & touching, delivers so hard it gets away with stuff I’d never tolerate from other movies.

Inherent Vice: Really need to rewatch this after having read the book

Britney doc: if there’s two things I hate a fuckin lot, it’s paparazzi and people playing dumb, so hoo boy,

Jaws: I’d never seen this before! Excellent reminder of how good Spielberg’s been capable of being

Lethal Weapon/Lethal Weapon 2: man, remember mel gibson being in things?

Dr. Strangelove (rewatch): stone-cold classic

Xfiles movie: The one where they go to antarctica. thoroughly mediocre.

Smokin’ Aces: Absolutely perfect idea for a movie, so it’s a shame the movie itself doesn’t really live up to the concept. Extremely funny use of Ben Affleck, though.

Godfathers Rewatch (I and II): They’re quite good. Wish my italian were better.

Cliffhanger: Jesus Christ this one surprised me. Genuinely scary setpieces, good fights, outstanding John Lithgow performance. Opening scene actually freaked me out a lot.

Promising Young Woman: one of the most muddled endings to a thing I’ve seen in a while.

Die Hard: Hadn’t seen this one before either! extremely well-deserved reputation, RIP Alan Rickman.

Aliens: I need to get my hands on Alien 3 at some point to test my hot take that it’s better than this one. Quotable, though!

Mr. Vampire: this was a riot start to finish

8 1/2: Quintessential movie about a Type of Guy. Also a filmmaker’s-ass movie about filmmaking. Another movie that makes me wish my italian was better, Only character talking slow enough that I could pick up on was explicitly not from italy.

Gamer: Clocks in at a kind of The Mummy level, where it doesn’t actually have to be good to be compelling.

Midsommar: haha oh my god that boyfriend’s such a piece of shit! The descent kept going to the point that it stopped being annoying and started being hilarious

Fight Club: K, box checked, worth the watch for sure.

Bo Burnham’s Insides: went in kind of expecting to not like it, ended up being really won over.

50 Shades of Grey: hahaaaa hey guys he’s 50 shades of fucked up!!

Black Widow: poor use of Rachel Weisz, but Florence Pugh completely upstaged everyone in this.

Project marvel rewatch: doing real deep dive on all feature films under the banner, chronological order, revisiting fond nostalgia and gritting our teeth through some fucking dreck. Not gonna list all of them, just certain highlights, things that really made me feel:

Howard the Duck: all-time contender among wretched movies, incredible piece of shit. Horrible viewing experience but fond memories.

Bana Hulk and Norton Hulk: Both of these were actually pretty good! Bana one in particular, Nick Nolte's performance is completely unhinged, it’s great.

Daredevil: Evanescence needle drop and Colin Farrell’s performance redeem so much about this one.

Even as a Nic Cage vehicle, Ghost Rider doesn’t hold up

xmen 3 and fantastic 4 are remembered as these irredeemably terrible movies, but really they’re just mediocre on the scale of things

The romance writing in the Raimi Spidermans is completely insane, but the directing and performances are still wildly better than basically all the rest of these.

Disney takes over, removes sexuality, removes music (and wants backpats when it occasionally puts it back in), adds military bullshit, goes all-in on really cheap-looking cg effects

Hot Rod: watched this then immediately could call to mind everyone I knew in high school who had clearly seen this

Rocky Horror Picture Show: I wish I liked this more, and the first third or so is genuinely really fun

Hocus Pocus: lotta fun!

Practical Magic: unfairly good cast

Casper: Man, remember movie sets?

Some netflix christmas movie with brooke shields and the guy from princess bride: It was fine. They kind of decided to underplay the requisite fight-that-threatens-to-tear-them-apart, which was nice.

White Christmas: One time my sister and I were invited to join my brother and his then-girlfriend’s family to a screening of this, but, like, a rocky horror style screening where the audience is supposed to be shouting and saying things to the screen. So right off the bat this is the lamest idea for an event, but then my brother had to bail on this for some reason, so it’s just my sister and I at this bad show with Not Our family. Nothing about this situation made any fucking sense.

TV

X-files: Watched every episode of this wretched show, including the revival seasons. I had a brief window of goodwill circa s2-3 that is pretty much entirely evaporated by now. Can’t believe people put up with this show.

Documental: some of the funniest stuff I’ve seen in a really long time. There’s a weird element, where, like I really hate laugh tracks on sitcoms, but something that I think is key to making this show work is that Matsumoto is also being recorded concurrent to the action, just completely laughing his head off at the stuff that’s going on.

Taskmaster: a delight

The Expanse: The main actor's a weak link imo, but solid sci-fi show.

I Think You Should Leave: Tried watching s1 with a friend once and couldn’t really connect with this. But watching it alone, though...

Only Murders in the Building: I like the people in this, show’s mediocre though

What We Do in the Shadows (s3): still staying funny for me

Over the Garden Wall: never saw this before, even though I’m sure that this has to have a pretty vocal fanbase.

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency: can definitely feel the douglas adams in this, s2 was kind of ruined a bit by a lot of really obnoxious performances.

Games

fuck, man, I dunno... played a lot of Into the Breach and Hades in the first part of the year, and a lot of Slay the Spire in the second part, tried replaying Diablos 2 and 3, neither of which stuck for very long

Hollow Knight: this was really fun for a while, but I ended up getting way too bogged down toward the end, wound up not finishing.

Sekiro: Made for a very good summer project. This kind of ruined the Souls games for me, though, I can’t go back to dealing with a stamina bar now.

Deltarune ch2, Undertale revisit: The games aren’t long enough to really get properly lost in them, but deltarune is extremely good, and undertale holds up, even if it can’t recapture the first playthrough.

Music?

good fuckin question.

[ahkaraii]

tov postgame drabblefic (3343 words)

“Raven?! Hey, Raven!”

Raven turns to smile at the little shrimp—who’s really more a jumbo shrimp now, with all the acne that comes with puberty—and waves. “Heya, Boss-man!"

Karol’s embrace draws a startled ‘oof!’ out of him, his blastia-heart creaking against his ribs. “You’re in town!” Karol exclaims. “And you didn’t say?!”

“I just got here, kiddo,” Raven says, patting Karol’s back—it used to be a pat on his head, but his head’s just about level with Raven’s now. “Damn, you’re getting tall!”

“You should’a said you were coming,” Karol grouses into his neck. “I’ve got a client I’m already late for across town.”

“Aww, that’s awright. I’ve got some time-sensitive stuff to get ta, too. We can join up after! Brave Vesperia’s still at the same place, yeah?”

“West corner across Saggitarius, yup!” Karol beams. “See you for dinner, then?”

“I’ll whip you up a Sashimi,” Raven promises.

“That’s a promise, pops!” Karol says, and dashes off. Raven scratches his messy hair and abruptly feels very self conscious about it. It’s just a casual nickname, old man, he don't mean naught by it. Relax.

After a fast-tracked meeting with Harry results in a tussle — poking gentle fun at the boy’s attempt at a beard earns him a “Your ass is grass, old man!!” and a surprisingly competent sword duel ensues — the young Master is turning into a proper Don, now — Raven subtly lets Harry disarm him and sprawls on the floor, dramatically defeated.

“Ohhh, these old bones!” Raven mimics being out of breath. “You’ve finally bested me, Master Harry. Do with my ass what you will.”

“Ugh! You’re so disgusting!” Harry is actually out of breath, so he still needs a bit more practice, but it’s leagues better than he was just a year ago. “A duel is an honourable exchange between men! Stop desecrating it with your jokes!”

“I don’t joke with my ass,” Raven says in his Serious Voice, enjoying Harry’s startled look before he dons his jester’s grin again. “Anywho, this old man’s got places to be, so! Toodles!”

“Wait! Raven! What the hell did you come here for!” Harry’s baritone is quite impressive when he gets proper angry. “Did you just come here to waste my time!”

“Never intentionally,” Raven promises. He’d dropped Flynn’s wax-sealed letter on Harry’s desk during their fight, and points to it as he nimbly leaps up to his usual open window. “There’s your homework, Master Harry! I’ll come by to collect it tomorrow at dawn, ‘kay?”

He leapfrogs out in time to hear Harry’s yelps of protest. “When did you put that there! God damnit, Raven!”

Raven’s grinning as he parkours his way away from Altosk’s headquarters and towards Brave Vesperia’s. If he sharply detours into Saggitarius tavern to catch up with the ladies (and the latest, juiciest gossip — who knew Heliord’s newest guild ambassador was trafficking drugs and possibly underage escorts? he did, now), then that’s just Raven being Raven, right? Karol’ll understand.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come,” Karol says faux-lightly, when Raven finally makes it back a few minutes past midnight.

Aww, shit.

“Heeey, I promised, didn’t I? Business just stretched out a little.” Raven dithers at Karol’s knowing stare. “C’mon, you still up for a good ol’ Raven’s Special Sashimi?”

“Fish isn’t really fresh by midnight anymore,” Karol says drolly. “Unless you wanna go fishing at this hour?”

They’d only get sewer trash in Dahngrest’s polluted rivers, and the next best thing’s thirty minutes out, at the very least. “Ehhh—how bout a Beef Bowl?” Raven says. “Surely you got some cured meats in your pantry. C’mon!! I’ll teach you!”

“Aw, okay. I am pretty hungry.” Karol’s so easy to please, it’s both heartwarming and kind of sad. “I’ve tried making it before but I can never get mine to taste like yours did.”

“’S all in the seasoning, kiddo. Here, watch the master and learn!”

It’s well past two when they finally call it a night, bellies full and hearts warm; it’s solely because of this that Karol succeeds in wrestling a promise out of Raven that they’d talk more in the morning. See, Raven’s got orders to pick up Harry’s response to Flynn’s letter and hussle back to the Empire ASAP, but even he doesn’t have to heart to deny Karol this simple thing.

Ever since Brave Vesperia saved the world by ruining it, everyone’s been struggling to adapt to life without blastia and Raven’s somehow found himself smack in the middle between the two remaining powers: the Empire and the Guild Union. Former member of both and trusted by all due to his role in stopping the Adephagos, Raven’s got the privilege of being messenger boy between the leaders in lieu of formal meetings, due to the fact that a lack of blastia has made travel…immensely more time consuming.

He’s worn down all the possible routes between Dahngrest and Zaphias for over a decade; the presence or absence of blastia has not really affected Raven’s efficiency and timeliness, which, naturally, has made him an attractive player for both sides. It just sucks that this means he’s always on the go, never really spending much time in one place or another. The first six months couldn’t be helped, it was imperative that everyone get their shit together and master the essentials necessary in order to provide basic living to their respective citizens: barrier blastia had to be replaced with rotating squads of knights and guildsfolk trained to fight; food previously preserved by blastia now had to be kept refrigerated with imported Zophier ice, dominated by the Empire, which had to be kept from melting with salt from Weasand mines, dominated by Guilds; everyone had to coordinate and organise to secure trade routes and avoid conflict, etc, etc.

The next six months after that were peace talks and negotiations between what was quickly becoming independent kingdoms in separate countries. Sea travel had slowed the fuck down overnight, because blastia-fueled engines had become obsolete and everyone now had to rely on wind power, so every passing day each country was slowly but surely becoming more and more isolated from each other, and therefore gradually but surely more hostile.

Emperor Ioder ruled over the continent of Ilyccia with his aristocracy of nobles and meritocracy of knights, struggling to keep the Empire’s global standing while lacking the technology to enforce it; Tolbyccia was pretty much owned by Altosk, ostensibly headed by Harry, who was presently overrun with infighting due to the fact that the Union was composed of many, many guilds all clamouring for leadership, if not democracy; East Desier was dominated by the strong-spirited Palestralle guild and its current leader, Natz, whose militant-minded navy had quickly expanded toward West Hyponia now that the Union’s presence was months away by treacherous sea; East Hyponia was an oddly peaceful blend of both Guild and Empire, unique in its joint origin and therefore vocally neutral, though that was quickly becoming contested, and, hence, required Raven-the-Pageboy’s timely arrival to avoid it becoming a full out war. Ugh.

The Schwann part of him that still lived felt heavy resignation at the inevitability of violence—the first one to fall would be Raven, he knew, as no messenger could truly remain neutral in a tug of war between such powerful masters—but the more upbeat part of him was like, stop sweating the small stuff and just go with the flow. Shit always resolves itself one way or another, right?

Right?

“You leaving already?” Karol mumbles into his pillow when Raven rises at dawn; kid’s no longer the type to sleep deeply, it seems.

“Just visiting the young Master to collect his response letter for Flynn,” Raven promises quietly. “Go back to sleep, Karol. I’ll be back to make you breakfast before I’m gone.”

Karol eyes him tiredly but he manages a wan smile. “Okay, pops. I trust you.”

Raven feels goosebumps up his arm. Stupid blastia heart runs too damn cold. He heads out at a jog to warm himself up, since Dahngrest runs both chilly and damp at this hour.

Raven no longer sneaks into Altosk’s headquarters like he did when the Don was alive and Harry was a boy; for one, Don is no longer alive to vouch for his slipperiness and for another, Raven represents the Empire here as much as he represents the Guilds in Zaphias, and no one tolerates his antics as they did before, not with the threat of conflict so close to the horizon. He walks in through the front door and waves at all the folks waiting in line—Pecan, Cactus, Lima and good ol’ Walt; all familiar faces turning sour, as usual—and knocks politely on Harry’s door.

“Master Harry,” he sing-songs. “It is I, Raven the Great, come ‘round at last!”

“It’s been barely ten fucking hours,” Harry’s pissed off voice rings loud and clear through the door.

“Shall I come back at noon, then?” Raven asks diplomatically.

An explosive sigh. “No,” Harry mutters. “Get in here. And call Cactus in, too, would you?”

“You heard the Young Master,” Raven says, nodding at the aptly-named mercenary, with his spiked up armour and sharpened teeth.

“You don’t order us around anymore, traitor,” the prickly fellow spits and shoves past him, to whom Raven mockingly bows to as he passes.

Saviour of the world or not, it's no secret now Raven was a triple agent. The official story Harry graciously gave him is that the Don always knew about Raven’s split loyalty (which is true, probably) and trusted him anyway (which is true, too), so Harry and Altosk will continue to trust him as well (which is flattering, but increasingly doubtful). Harry's a good kid shoved into a position of leadership he's not very well suited for, but even Raven can't deny he's trying and doing better every day.

“Cutlass Cactus, I want you to deliver this to Sirena of Siren’s Fang as soon as possible,” Harry says shortly, handing the man a wax-sealed letter. “Wait for a response, but I await it at most a fortnight.”

“Understood, young Master,” Cactus says, thumping his chest at the honour. He takes the letter, glares at Raven, and makes his way out.

“As for you,” Harry says, “I have a question to ask you before I hand this reply over. A serious one.”

Raven feels his age and more. “Yeah?”

“Ioder is a good man. His dog Flynn is, too. I know this personally.”

There is no question here yet, and there are a fair amount of insults between the compliments, but Raven knows the heart of Harry, and he means well.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “They are.”

“But,” Harry continues, coldly. “Two kind heads on a hydra do not make it any less a monster.”

Raven hides a grimace by scratching at his sideburns. “The same can be said of the Guilds,” he says lightly. “Or of any organization grown large enough.”

“Stop twisting my metaphors,” Harry says shortly. “The question I wanted to ask is: what do you think the Empire's end goal is?”

And what is the Guild’s end goal, Schwann wants to counter, when the Guilds’ very existence rose out of violent rejection of the Empire? Raven, for his part, takes a deep breath and exhales it out as a thoughtful hum.

“I think the Empire was built to protect and manage blastia,” Raven muses. “And I think the Guilds were built to reject the Empire’ monopoly of them. But, well, there ain’t no blastia left, so… the Empire wants to micromanage what remains. And the Guilds do, too. Yeah?”

“So there can be no peace?” Harry concludes, tiredly.

“Harry,” Raven says, firmly. “Your grandfather, the Don, united the Guilds back when they were just a bunch of rowdy, armed assholes. Y’know how he did it?”

“By fighting the Empire?” Harry says dully.

“By uniting against a common enemy,” Raven insists. “By uniting against a common threat. The Empire is no longer the enemy—hell, think of the Empire as yet another guild. It’s just a group of rowdy, armed assholes. But you and they got a common enemy now, too.”

Harry looks at him sharply. “The Adephagos is no more,” he says, carefully, “right?”

“Not the Adephagos,” Raven says. “The lack of blastia. The lack of technology. The lack of creature comforts all of us got real used to. That’s our enemy now; the thing we all gotta pitch in together to fix.” Raven bows low to Harry, as low as he would to the Don. “I beg you, young Master: do not war with the Empire. Not now. See them as a business partner, instead.”

“Business, huh,” Harry says heavily, and then flicks his sealed letter in Raven’s direction, who catches it just before it smacks him in the face. “All right. Tell your Master we can’t afford a war, anyway.”

Something uncoils in Raven's chest. “You are my only Master, Harry,” he says, cheekily. Just like Flynn is his only Commandant, now.

“Ugh, the way you say it, you make it sound so gross,” Harry complains. “Get the fuck out of my room, old man. And call in Lima!”

Raven sends him a lazy salute and hops his way out, placing the important letter in his robe’s inner breast pocket. His heart blastia emits a small barrier shield of its own, using his life-force; this letter will remain pristine come rain, sleet, or snow, as long as he still lives.

“You’re up, Lima bean,” Raven chirps.

“You call me that again and I’ll break more than just your nuts,” Lima snarls, spits in his direction, and stomps off.

“And we used to have such fun together,” Raven laments. “What happened to us, O expert in nuts, Pecan, my man?”

“Careful, Raven,” the aforementioned Pecan murmurs. “Your jests are no longer in good taste.”

“Your fruit cocktail, on the other hand,” Raven says. “Mmhmm. Top notch, as always.”

Pecan gives him a wry smile. “I saw you buttering up Madam Teal and her girls, last night. They talk about Heliord?”

“Oh, you know me: promise me a free night of drinks and I’ll spill my guts,” Raven winks suggestively.

“Hmm…your costs run too high these days,” Pecan declines politely. “You’ll drink me out of business.”

Raven feels a mild pang of loss; he and the third-waiter-from-the-right Pecan used to be pretty tight. Schwann thinks it’s just how things go. Suck it up, buttercup.

“Next time I’m in town I’ll do you one free, fer old times’ sake,” Raven compromises. “Lemme know what info you want and I’ll get it for ya fer a Mabo Curry and a Don’s Special. Within reason, ‘course.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Black Bird,” Pecan murmurs. “But I’ll be waiting for you.”

Raven walks home with a heavy heart and on lighter feet. He makes a quick detour to the fish market, already bustling with a freshly caught haul; he haggles reliable ol' Fin for a kilogram of merflesh and charms Romelle out of a bottle of soy sauce and pays full price for a sack of white rice before finally making it back to Brave Vesperia’s HQ, just in time to catch Karol in the kitchen about to make morning coffee.

“Raven!” Karol’s smile is brilliant, and very welcome. “You’re back!”

“I promised you my world famous sashimi, didn’t I?” Raven says. “Can't have you saying this old man’s a liar!"

“I’d never,” Karol says honestly, and that, more than anything, is what makes Raven want to noogie Karol and maybe cry into his hair or something likewise unmanful. He settles for making that kid the most delicious dish of fish a Weekend Chef is capable of, and if he finds himself also making Karol his special Pork Stew to eat later, he tells himself it’s ‘cause the boy’s a growing man and not because Raven’s a sap at heart.

“So where ya off to now, Raven?” Karol asks, after they’re done eating and making the kitchen less of a mess. “If, um, you can tell me, that is.”

“Atherum,” Raven says honestly. “Flynn said his girl Sodia’d be there to collect whatever response Harry might have on the new moon, so, there I'll be.”

“The new moon?” Karol stares at him. “But that’s in no time at all!”

Raven gives him a wan smile. “Don’tcha worry, kiddo. I always get ta where I need to in time.”

“We should call Ba’ul,” Karol insists. “You’ll never make it otherwise!”

Raven doesn’t have the heart to tell Karol that it probably doesn’t matter how fast or slow his response arrives; in the end, it’s Harry actions from now on that will be his real response, regardless of what his letter says.

“Judith darlin’ probably has better things to do than be an old man’s cab,” Raven says lightly. “I’ll jes' hop on a merchant ship headed toward Atherum tonight; should make it just in time, if the weather stays fair. This time o’ year, the northern wind’s in our favour.”

“But what if merfish ambush you!” Karol protests. “Or if a storm’s brewing—“

“Tempest!” Raven sing-songs, flicking his hand. “Aw, man, I miss being able ta call up storms willy-nilly. That made me feel God-like, it did.”

Karol frowns at the interruption, but then his face turns thoughtful. “Can’t you still, though? Your blastia’s powered by your life-force, right? So your arts should still be working just fine.”

“Shavin’ a year or two off my life fer a light show is a bit too vapid, even by my standards,” Raven says sardonically. “Plus, I ain’t keen on folks realising blastia’s still useable if you use a human fer a battery.”

He can very easily see it happening in the future: folks trafficking humans for energy. Or, fuck, claiming prisoners of war for it—hell of a good reason to go to war, really, if it’s to dehumanize the ingredients you need to fuel your creature comforts. You justify your atrocities by framing it as necessary or even righteous; Alexei and Schwann used to do that all the time, no brainer. Honestly, this fear is one of the many reasons he’s made Rita promise not to share that part of Hermes’ research, despite the fact that human-powered blastia could solve a lot of the world’s present problems. Schwann’s too jaded to avoid thinking of all the ways it can go terribly wrong, and Raven’s too fucking tired of the parasite that is his heart to think of its more beneficial applications.

“People’ll find out eventually,” Karol insists, at once innocent and wise beyond his years. “Desperation breeds creativity, right? You should tell people about it so they know the risks involved, before someone invents it and says it’s a cure-all or something.”

“Ehhhhh,” Raven drawls. “I’ll think about it.”

He most definitely will not.

Karol drops it, thankfully, but then picks up the old tangent of, “I still say I should call Ba’ul for you. I’ve got the whistle and I was thinking of asking Judy to fly me over to Yumanju, anyway, since my next job’s over there. We could drop you off real quick, no worries.”

“The spa?” Raven perks up. The idea of running off to relax there after all this nonstop political bullshit is extremely appealing. “Really?”

“Really really,” Karol says, smiling knowingly. “So, you wanna come with?”

“Boy, do I,” Raven says excitedly. “Okay, kiddo, you’ve convinced this old man to defect to Brave Vesperia once again.”

“You never left, pops,” Karol says without hesitation, which warms the cockles of ol' Raven's heart. “C’mon, then, let’s head to the usual clearing. Ba’ul’ll show up within fifteen minutes after I call for him.”

“Wait wait wait! We should get Judy a gift first,” Raven insists. “The lady’s coming all the way over here for our sorry hides, we gotta say thanks proper-like!”

Karol blinks. “That’s a good idea! What d’you think she’d like?”

“I know just the thing,” Raven winks. “C’mon, kiddo, we got places to be!”

[taesramenhair]

Set Me Free [MYG]

The abbey has been a constant in Yoongi’s life: his home, his school, his workplace. Now it’s burning, pillaged by invaders - and it’s up to him to keep their relic safe. The strange man he meets at the high altar doesn’t seem to understand that, but he does understand staying out of harm's way.

word count: 5.7k // genre + rating: SFW (12)

warnings/tags etc: violence, injury, minor character death (unnamed characters), mention of corporal punishment, some Not Nice People, as you might have guessed - angst with a happy ending, monk!Yoongi (sort of), vague middle ages AU, religious imagery, religious references, mainly ft. Jimin but the others have a cameo at the end too. [This is my first fic so I'm not used to tagging - please, please tell me if I've missed something important!]

Masterlist

Yoongi never thought he’d be grateful for a childhood spent chasing chickens, but here he was. With the wind snarling around his reddened ears and loose pebbles rolling under his feet, he was immensely thankful that he’d always been given the outdoor duties. At the time, he’d hated it, of course, but it had built his stamina - and if there’s one thing you need when fleeing up a mountain, chased by murderous bandits, it’s the ability to run.

Not that he was going that fast anymore. The terrain was difficult, path narrow and winding, and the cut on his arm was distractingly painful. It wasn’t bleeding so much now, thankfully, but it throbbed with every beat of his worn-down sandals against the dusty rock. His one advantage over his pursuers was that he knew this path well and they didn’t. He had gained a lead on them in the twisting corridors of the abbey – his abbey, now nothing more than hollowed, blackened stone burning violently in the valley below – and left them scrabbling foolishly in the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long before they made their way through, though, and he had to reach the top first. He had to make it to the altar.

A misjudged footfall coming around the last corner slid Yoongi into the floor, landing heavily on his left shoulder as the strap of his sandal broke apart. Every ache in his body rose now that he wasn’t moving, screaming up towards the bright midday sky even as he forced himself to let out nothing louder than a pained groan. He couldn’t let them know anything was wrong. Let them think he was safe. Let them think he was long gone.

Testing his shoulder with a gentle roll – ah, painful – the young acolyte turned onto his knees and rose shakily. The broken sandal was all but useless, barely staying on his foot as he stepped forward. This high on the mountain, though, the ground was harsh and stony, the only foliage being the flowering apple tree next to the altar Yoongi couldn’t yet see but knew was just over the next rise. He’d have to hobble to keep the shoe on but it was preferable to tearing the sole of his foot on jagged stones. If only he hadn’t given his best shoes as an offering, he thought bitterly – and then instantly chastised himself. The gods had ben pleased with that offering, had taken it quickly and sent plentiful rains in response. It had been a worthwhile sacrifice, even if he was now struggling to reach sanctuary.

A noise below told him the bandits had broken through the tree cover already. They were gaining on him. He hobbled faster.

No one had expected an attack that day. Yoongi had been by the stream when it started, bathing his battered hands in the cool waters, breathing in the dews of the spring day and hoping they would sweeten his tears.

(It had been his turn to watch the blessed fire, but he had been sick all week and the abbot had caught him sleeping at his post. The welts of his punishment would linger for a few days: they always did.)

Hearing the tower bells had pulled Yoongi from his mournful reverie – it was not yet dawn, and those bells should not have been ringing. Something was terribly wrong.

Cold grey stone was already dripping red warmth by the time Yoongi reached the doors to the place he had called home since his seventh winter. Prayerful silence had given way to terrible screams, like the great oaken entrance had buckled beneath the force of the invaders’ battering. Centuries of monastic tradition was no match for the terror of a freshly forged blade baptising itself in the blood of the aged brothers, it would seem.

He could have run there and then, abandoned it all to its inevitable oblivion and fled towards the slowly rising sun. There were things he had grown to value there, though, lessons that had been drummed into him by chant and fast and blood. To run with no attempt at saving the abbey’s great treasure would be an insult to the gods too grave to contemplate. Sure, he would survive – but it would not be a life worth having, cursed to his final breath.

So he had waded through the wails of his brothers, the dying agony of those who had raised and formed him, taking the hidden passages to reach the inner sanctum before the newcomers did. They seemed to plunder aimlessly, unaware that there was only one prize worth having within the abbey walls, more valuable than the golden triptychs or the silver-wrought chalices. For the blessed fire – the one Yoongi had been punished so harshly for failing to attend – burned to light the presence of a great relic: a priceless stone that betokened the favour of the gods. That favour had passed now from the vaulted corridors of the abbey it had settled on for centuries, that much was clear. Even so, as Yoongi crawled past the death-closed eyes of the kind, wizened man he had once playfully addressed as halabeoji, he knew the stone must be preserved and taken to the high altar until the gods chose to bestow it anew. If he could just get it there, he could beg their protection in return – he could beg preservation from the terrible fate that had fallen out around him.

Now, finally dragging his trembling limbs over the last mound, Yoongi saw the goal he had been fighting towards since daybreak. Half-shrouded in bruised blossoms from the apple tree stretching lazily by its side, the high altar basked in afternoon sunshine, dark stone glistening where droplets from the nearby waterfall had lost their way. He had seen it many times, in all weathers – sent far up the mountain in deepest winter to offer penance for a drifting mind; honoured to represent the community in late summer and give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Always the end of his journey and always a place of refuge. Looking at it, he could almost forget about the horrors he had seen. It was almost relaxing.

Only almost, though. Not only was he aware of the toll his journey had taken – not to mention the danger still snapping at his blistered heels – but when Yoongi looked at the altar today, he saw something he had never seen there before.

A young man – small, lithe, delicate – was sitting on the altar, back against the sacred tree. He was a vision in the dappled light, so beautiful next to Yoongi’s swollen eyes, bloodied robes and dusty feet. Looks were deceiving, though, and apparently Yoongi was to add another sacrilege to the list of crimes committed against everything he held dear. The man, damn him, was eating the offerings left upon the altar for the gods. Had he had more energy, Yoongi could have burst into tears at the sight.

“What are you doing?” he cried, voice cracking and distraught. “Get off! Go away! Those are offerings, we need them! I – please. I need the gods’ favour. Go away!” The boy did little more than blink at Yoongi and tilt his head slowly to the left. A child-like hand raised a flask of blessed water – blessed water – to full, pink lips and Yoongi choked on air, disbelieving.

“There are no gods here, silly.” A soft, high voice came from the young man, sure and unconcerned. “Only me.”

Angry tears did slip from Yoongi’s eyes then. How dare this – this boy say such things? Yoongi had not endured the destruction of his home for some spoiled brat to anger the gods and leave him defenceless and a failure. Marching towards the altar, he bowed quickly and muttered an apology to the tree before taking a firm grasp of the boy’s black hair and yanking him down unceremoniously, heedless of the responding cry.

“I am the last acolyte of the abbey and I will not have you defile this altar and the offerings left to our gods.” His speech would have more impact if he weren’t gasping through tears and physically shaking, but Yoongi was doing his best. “We have been beaten and burned and murdered today and I am here to return the stone of favour to the gods for safekeeping and beg their protection from the evil that has pursued me all day and you – how dare you treat this place with so little respect?” Wide eyes and a soft pout looked up at him from the ground, the boy not having moved from where Yoongi had thrown him. He realised that the ground was still harsh here and felt a little bad – even if he was a sacrilegious blasphemer, this boy seemed a couple of years younger than Yoongi and the fall must have hurt him. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand. Yoongi did his best to rearrange the remaining gifts on the altar (so few, the boy must taken so much of it, the gods would be displeased) and placed the stone carefully in the centre before dropping stiffly to his knees. Wiping his tears and bowing his head to the ground, he muttered out a series of chants and then sat back on his heels, chin lifted to the skies and streaming eyes closed against the light.

“Great gods above, hear my call,” he declared, loudly as his ragged throat allowed him. “We know not why you have withdrawn your blessing from us. We thank you for having granted it at all, for letting us live such charmed lives for you for many years. We return now your stone. Please retain your grace in it and bestow it anew upon others. Do not abandon us all, oh great ones. Hear me when I call to you, worthless as I am. Do not forget us all.” His voice faltered and Yoongi tipped his head forward again, barely managing a whisper. “I ask your protection. Please. I know I have not served you perfectly, but I have tried so hard. I wanted to please you. I want to deserve your favour. You’ve always answered me so graciously – and I know better servants have died horribly today, but please. I don’t want to die. Protect me.” The thunderous footsteps of the bandits started to reach his ears and Yoongi gasped, pressing his face desperately to the ground once more. A soft noise behind him reminded him he was not alone and he spoke again. “Protect us both.”

For a few moments there was silence, and then Yoongi heard the stones to his left shifting quickly, as though someone were running towards him. He tensed, still bowing before the altar and praying that somehow the gods would protect him. A pair of hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled, and he couldn’t help but let out a sob. He knew he had never deserved anything from the gods, but he had hoped so dearly that they would spare him.

“It’s just me, acolyte, get up.” The words filtered through his distress like thick cream through muslin, slow and awkward. He couldn’t quite grasp them. “We have to go, now.”

“Can’t,” he stuttered out, managing to open his eyes and twist away from the young man’s grip, crawling back towards the altar. “I have to be here. The gods –“

“The gods won’t help you.” Though his words were harsh, the man looked concerned, reaching a hand out towards Yoongi again imploringly. “Let me help you, please. Come with me. They’re close now: we have to go.” Yoongi knew he was telling the truth – he could hear voices as well as footsteps now, could almost hear the singing of the blades he knew the bandits were carrying. But he couldn’t leave the altar – could he? It had always been his safety and it was the last remains of his abbey – his faith. He had run this far for the gods. If he ran further, for himself, did that make him a coward? Would he have betrayed them all? Would he prove himself as unworthy as the abbot had always told him he was? Teary-eyed and shaking, he set his mouth and looked the young man right in the eye.

“Save yourself if you can. I cannot leave.” It had the desired effect. The man nodded curtly, stood and began to leave, pausing by the altar as he did so.

“Fine,” he called back. “But I’m taking the rest of this food with me. No point letting it go to waste. This stone is pretty, too. I don’t know about it being blessed or anything, but I think I’ll take it.” Sure enough, he picked it up, tossed it in the air and pocketed it with a stunning smile that all but closed his eyes. Then, he started simply sauntering away, all sense of urgency gone.

He’s baiting me, Yoongi thought. He hadn’t managed to convince him to leave on his own, so he was taking the stone like some sort of carrot, hoping Yoongi, like a donkey, would follow. Yoongi half wanted to be stubborn, to sit there and die like a fool just to prove that he had a stronger will than this brattish stranger presumed. The louder part of him, however, was relieved at having been given permission to abandon the altar, a reason beyond self-preservation to stand up and follow him to safety. He couldn’t leave the stone of favour in the hands of someone with so little respect that he would lean against a sacred tree and eat the gods’ offerings with his feet on their altar. Impossible. It was his sacred duty to stagger up and stumble after him, calling chastisements as loudly as he dared and trying to match pace when the stranger sped up, leading him around the corner from the altar to a hidden path he had never thought to look for.

The altar was at the top of the mountain path – Yoongi had never considered that there might be other paths down beyond it. It was the destination, the end of the line. Going further just wasn’t something he’d ever considered, and that this man was leading him like it was second nature was the last straw for him. Lost in a haze, he followed wordlessly, almost blindly, the ache of his arms and his legs and his feet whispering somewhere but barely decipherable through the thick fog of his mind. At some point they entered a dark tunnel and the young man took his hand gently, perhaps aware of how feeble Yoongi’s grip on awareness was. Between the soft touch and the pressing darkness around him, Yoongi let himself go.

Waking up again was a far less pleasant experience than drifting off had been. It wasn’t a slow rise to the surface, lazy and comfortable like waking to a summer dawn – it was a sudden dive from absolute nothingness into decided somethingness. All at once Yoongi was aware again of the stiffness in his calves and the ache of his arm; the throb of his head from a week of sickness, a lack of sleep and the dehydration of having cried his frustrations out on the mountaintop. The fog lifted and he sat up quickly, huffing softly through his nose as the movement made his stomach lurch and his vision swim. He could remember being annoyed at a bright smile, and fluffy, black hair disappearing into a tunnel – and the stone! Right, yes. Dangerous bandits, bratty stranger, following the stone. That’s what had happened.

“There’s some water next to you – you should drink it,” he heard the stranger say from somewhere off to his right. Yoongi glanced around him, twisting on the bed roll laid out in his corner of what seemed to be a small, wooden room. Sure enough, there was a whole pitcher of water beside him. After a few seconds of blinking at the floor failed to magic a cup into existence, Yoongi picked it up and hesitantly tilted it against his lips. The water was lukewarm and hardly counted as refreshing, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since the abbot had woken him before, well, everything and his throat was grateful to be soothed.

“What did you do with the stone?” Even after a few mouthfuls of water, his voice was deep and gruffer than he had meant it to be. The stranger just giggled and Yoongi managed to make out his shape in the low light, sitting against the opposite wall.

“Don’t worry, acolyte. It’s safe here. I’ll give it to you in the morning, if you like.” Yoongi grumbled and the stranger laughed again. “You know, you were cute when you were half asleep. All whiny, like a kitten.”

“I’m not a kitten.” (He had a vague notion that his mother used to call him that. He hadn’t seen her for years, not since she had given him away in the hope of pleasing the gods and bringing a good harvest. Maybe he had dreamed it up. He certainly hadn't had a nickname since joining the abbey.)

“Who are you, then?” The question took Yoongi by surprise and he cleared his throat as he shifted back a little, resting against the wall behind him and drawing his knees painfully up. From the feel of the fabric under his fingertips, he was still in his robes from earlier and whilst he was relieved that the stranger had not undressed him, he desperately wanted to be clean. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting a bath, just soaking in hot water and letting it steam away everything that had happened. Probably not.

“Yoongi,” he said shortly. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Jimin. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Yoongi didn’t like where this was going.

“Hyung!”

“No.” He thought he could see a flicker of a pout and was glad of the cover of darkness. Living around older monks meant he hadn’t really been exposed to much cuteness – he hadn’t been anyone’s hyung ever– so he didn’t think he’d be able to hold out against it. At least if he couldn’t see this Jimin’s face, the only thing he had to resist was the whining that started up immediately.

“I saved your life, let me call you hyung!”

“You desecrated my altar!”

“I told you, Yoongi-hyung, there are no gods here! If the altar’s not really sacred, how can I have desecrated it?” That stung worse than the other injuries vying for Yoongi’s attention. He had devoted his life to serving the gods. It was all he had known. He had put up with long nights and early mornings for years, allowed the other monks to literally beat him into shape, all in the hope that it would appease some deity with the power to improve people’s lives - and now this clueless boy wanted to tear it all into pieces.

“There are gods, Jimin-ssi. We have left them offerings for centuries, and they have always taken them and given what we asked for in return.” He thought he heard a snort, and it was his turn to pout.

“Like what, hyung? When have the gods taken something and given something in return? How would that even work?” Yoongi didn’t have to think.

“Last autumn. The rains were late so the farmers were worried the fruits wouldn’t ripen properly and they would have to feed their livestock from reserves, which might mean they would run out before the frosts ended. I’d been working on a new pair of sturdy boots all year because mine had fallen to pieces, but we needed an offering, so I brought them up to the altar and left them there. Two days later, the rains started, and the boots were gone. We gave the boots; they gave the rains.” He sounded smug. He knew he sounded smug, but he also knew he was right. Traditions existed for a reason, and the abbey existed because it worked. It helped. The monks prayed and trekked up the mountain to offer sacrifices because the gods listened to them and protected their people. Or at least, they used to.

“Oh.” There was the sound of shuffling across the room, and then a hiss as a flame was struck. Yoongi blinked blearily as Jimin lit a candle, picked something up from the floor and shuffled over, nearly tripping on the long, woven blanket he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. “Um, Yoongi-ssi – those boots, they, um. Well. They didn’t look like this, did they?” Kneeling next to Yoongi’s bed roll, Jimin lifted the candle and proffered a muddy pair of boots with his other hand. Slightly crooked teeth worried his lip as he waited for the acolyte to respond. Yoongi took the boots reluctantly, fingering over the caked mud and peering closely. He couldn’t see much, in truth – and he had only ever felt his boots when they were brand new, unworn. His fingertips didn’t recognise these ones, leather both soft with wear and rugged from the elements. Guiding Jimin’s hand closer to gain more light, he turned them over and picked at the dirt dried into the arch.

“You’re terrible at looking after boots,” he muttered as a large clump came away in his hand, revealing the sole. Jimin didn’t respond. The last bit of mud fell to the floor and Yoongi coughed on a harsh sob. There, tucked next to the heel, was the mark Yoongi put on all his things.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi’s eyes drifted blankly to the wall beside him. “I didn’t realise you had offered them up. I always – ever since I was tiny, there have always been things there and we always took them, so I thought they were meant for us. I thought you all knew we were taking them. I thought you were looking after us.”

“You’ve been taking the offerings for years?” Maybe if he asked the question quietly enough, the answer would be different. It wasn’t.

“All my life. Yoongi-ssi, I’m so sorry. My parents showed me and when they were gone - I guess I didn't think about it. I didn’t know it meant anything until you shouted at me earlier, and then I thought you were just being… I don’t know. Sanctimonious?” Yoongi huffed, still not looking at the younger man.

“Big word.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you thought – but those offerings didn’t go to waste. We’d have died here without them.” A silence stretched tensely between them, Jimin left without words to explain himself and Yoongi winded by how abruptly his world was turning itself inside out. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had lost everything that had ever been familiar to him. He also had to have his faith shaken and his understanding of how the world worked ripped out from under him. There was only really one thing to do.

“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, curling up to face the wall even though it meant lying on his wrenched shoulder. Behind him, he heard Jimin place the candle on the ground and move the boots – his boots? Yoongi’s boots? it didn’t matter anymore – away.

“Hyung,” came the soft voice again as a small hand reached over his hunched shoulder, “here. I think you should keep this. We can talk again in the morning.” Firm fingers prised Yoongi’s hand away from his side and pressed something cool and round into his palm. The stone, he thought. There is still the stone. He fell asleep with it pressed against his chest, safe.

They didn’t speak the next day. In fact, Yoongi gave Jimin the silent treatment for three weeks, only staying with him because the heavens opened during the night and refused to close again for long enough to allow Yoongi to even hope to venture off the mountainside. He didn’t have anywhere to go in any case – and whilst he was furious with Jimin and completely lost without his routine and the guidance of the other monks, he knew being somewhere warm and dry, with a reliable source of food and someone to offer to massage his aching shoulder was better than dying in a ditch somewhere from stubbornness.

(He never accepted the massage offers, of course, but it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to ask.)

When the rains finally cleared, Yoongi had Jimin show him the way back up to the altar. The blossom was all gone now, flushed away by the rain, but the leaves were strong and the waterfall babbled happily. Yoongi didn’t think the tree would fruit this year, since the flowers hadn’t had time to set before the storms, but it still stood. The altar still stood. That was something.

Sitting on the edge of the mountain, he could see the charred ruins of his home below – joined now by more ruins to the west. Though they hadn’t found him, the group who had attacked the abbey had travelled back down the mountain and continued their rampage, working through the nearby villages and taking what they could. Bright sunshine was no remedy for such heaviness, and Yoongi felt his face crumple watching the birds fly down towards the blackened remains of thriving communities. Maybe Jimin was right and there never were gods – maybe it was better that way. To think that they had been abandoned to such death and ruin hurt more than believing they had never been blessed by anything more than good chance in the first place.

“Hey, hyung – look!” Jimin called excitedly from the waterfall, oblivious to the destruction right below him. Jimin, it turned out, had never really come down off the mountain. His parents had retreated to a small cabin in a hidden glade after a particularly nasty feud with a distant cousin, and he had been raised in near solitude. He knew about the villages, of course, but he had never been to one. Their loss was a sad idea to him, but no more than that. Flowering daisies were all it took to distract him, and he sought to do the same for Yoongi, even if he was ignored.

“Hey, Grumpy-hyung! I saved your life, you know, you can at least pretend to be interested when I try to show you the finer beauties of this world!” A thought struck Yoongi, finally back in the place where he had thought for certain his life would end. It hit him hard enough to make him gasp, head tilting up to the sky so quickly that Jimin forgot his flowers and came rushing to see what the matter was.

“You’re wrong!” he declared as soon as Jimin settled beside him, before the younger boy had even spoken. “You’re wrong.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about daisies.”

“There are gods.” Yoongi brought his chin down again and looked at Jimin straight, eyes still red from his tears but perfectly sure. “You said there weren’t gods. There are.”

“Um. Ok.”

“There are. I asked them for their protection and they protected me.” Jimin’s brow crinkled a little and his eyes followed Yoongi’s movement as he stood and paced to the altar, one hand reaching out gently to touch the bark of the apple tree.

“I mean, not to be pedantic, but I protected you, hyung.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had never admitted that before, no matter how much Jimin wheedled for acknowledgment. He figured either this was a minor miracle or the pressure had finally cracked him. “I’ve been coming up here for fifteen years, Jimin-ah. All times of day, all seasons, all weathers. I’ve never seen you. None of us have. And then the one day I need someone to be here, when I’m being chased and I’m completely alone for the first time in my life - you’re just sitting on the altar." For the first time, Jimin saw Yoongi smile – a bright, full-toothed, gummy thing that lit up his eyes and transformed his face. “Like an offering. We gave them offerings, they gave them to you – and then they gave you back to me.” When Yoongi chuckled and leant against the tree, Jimin couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“I don’t think that’s compelling theology, hyung, but if it makes you happy, you go ahead and think that.”

“Just admit it, Jimin-ah. You’re wrong. The gods exist and they’re here and they care and we’re going to be alright. Just you wait.”

It had taken two years for the invaders to take everything they could from the land, and three more for life to start again once they abandoned it to decay. Now, though, from his rock on top of the mountain Yoongi could see white smoke rising from chimneys once more, could follow the path of trundling carts along the roads between each growing settlement. He had taken Jimin down there a few times, to see how the people lived and to do what he could to help them. Although the abbey and the men who had raised him were gone, the skills he had learned remained and he had a lot to offer. If in time it meant he could earn a little money and make life a bit easier, that was a blessing too.

Life with Jimin had taken some time to adjust to. He had considered leaving after his revelation, heading north in the hopes of finding a new monastery and enfolding himself once more in the familiarity of an ordered life. He'd got as far as packing a small bag of food and reclaiming his boots from Jimin. When he had put them on to leave, though, it had all felt wrong. Officially, the boots had worn to Jimin's feet already and Yoongi refused to make a long journey in uncomfortable shoes. Jimin had accepted that excuse without fuss, thrilled to keep his companion, but they both knew that wasn't the real reason. After all, Jimin had watched Yoongi stumble into a mountain clearing with a sword wound on his arm, a dislocated shoulder and a broken sandal all for the sake of a small stone. Uncomfortable boots were hardly going to stop him leaving if he really wanted to.

For whatever reason, he had elected to stay, to learn how to live with just one person for company and without orders and punishments and bells to mark his day. Chasing chickens was also useful for catching rabbits, it turned out, and he taught Jimin the skills he needed to find food now that there weren't regular offerings to pilfer. Jimin taught him to dance, and sang real songs to him. He taught him to laugh again, and if anyone were to suggest they be parted now, he would probably growl at them and pull his dongsaeng behind him for protection.

The altar would always be special to him. When the weather was good, Jimin would often find him up there long past dark, listening to the waterfall or leaning against the tree. One autumn, he even convinced him to sit up on the altar itself.

("Hyung," he had whined, "don't leave me up here alone. If the gods didn't like it, they would have struck me down years ago. Live a little."

"Brat," Yoongi had muttered in reply, hiding his smile even as he climbed up onto the stone. Since he was yet to be blasted to smithereens, he figured he was alright to keep doing it.)

It was there that he was sat the day the monks returned to the mountain. The afternoon sunshine was lazy, winding its way through the apple tree's branches and kissing its growing fruit softly. Yoongi had brought a cushion and was leaned back against the tree trunk, legs stretched out across the altar and mind drifting when an outraged shout made him open one eye and smirk.

"Yah!" a tall stranger exclaimed, pulling his robes up with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he strode purposefully towards Yoongi. "Get off of there! Get down! That's a sacred altar!" Behind him was a group of four men, two looking nervous and carrying large baskets of food and one cradling a ceramic pot like it was glass while the last glared at him. Yoongi thought the glare might have something to do with the fact that the pot was missing one handle - which he located in the glarer's hand. Good to know every monastery had its own god of destruction.

"I take it you are the monks in charge of rebuilding the abbey?" Yoongi drawled, crossing his feet, completely unbothered by the new arrivals. Their leader halted in his striding, pulling his head back slightly in confusion.

"Uh - yes. That's us." One of the food bearers turned to the other with wide eyes, but received no more than a shrug in response. They looked very young - Yoongi hoped they were close. He thought he saw the one holding a pot begin to say 'hyung' and stop sheepishly when his hyung's heart-shaped mouth frowned even harder. Cute.

"Excellent." Hopping off the altar, Yoongi pulled a string from around his neck and took the stranger's hand. Unfurling crooked fingers, he placed the object in his palm and patted his shoulder familiarly, smiling at the gawk he got in return. "You'll need this, then. I've had it these past five years and I've been more blessed than I ever thought I would be. Guard it well, brother." He turned to walk away as the leader looked behind him, proffering the stone to one of his followers and saying, "Namjoon-ah, is this -" The answering gasp suggested they knew exactly what the stone meant.

"Oh, by the way," he called back at the corner where the path down to his and Jimin's cottage started. "If you ever need anything, just come here and leave a note. My friend and I will be happy to help. You never walk alone." With a soft smile, he disappeared around down the mountain and left them to their offerings.

(And if Jimin bounced home that evening with fine wine in a pot with a broken handle - well, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.)

[exosmutfactory]

A Triple Threat

lovely gif by pikayeollie

❥ This is the long awaited baek x oc x baëk smut, sorry it took 10 years, and I’m still not completely satisfied lmao

— Pairing: Baëkhyun x You x Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: PURE smut hi, 

— Word Count: 2.2k

— Rating: 18+ (M)

— [ Contains: Baëkhyun. Is that not enough of an explanation? Well, then, we’re going ✈ rough hours again. Deepthroating, airplay/choking, creampie, dirty talk(he’s filthy), cunnilingus, etc. ]

❥ Yolo

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You were used to hearing odd noises in the dead of night. A random pop here, a fallen bag there. Your house was the oldest on the block; left in your hands after your grandparents passed on and you didn’t have the heart to leave so many years of family history behind. And being a frequent visitor during your winter breaks, you’ve grown accustomed to the aches of the old house.

So when you happened to hear a thud downstairs, you didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe it was that damn box of your grandma’s collection of unboxed toys that falls over once a week. It was heavy from her diligent hobby and words of, “we’ll make good money off of them one day.” So you kept going through with your nightly routine. Until the second thud.

You paused and rushed to barricade the downstairs door with the strongest cane you could find before running back to your room and locking the door. Maybe it’s Baekhyun?.. Your cheeky boyfriend had a habit of sneaking in with the spare key you gave him until you nearly knocked him out once with a flashlight. But it’s been months since the last time he did that and you just got off the phone with him an hour ago… He said that something important came up and he wouldn’t be able to come over tonight.

You gulp as an uneasy feeling fills your stomach. It’s just the house; you convince yourself. Crawling into bed and hiding under the covers before drifting off into a deep sleep.

It feels like you’ve had barely ten minutes of sleep when you wake up to feverish kisses on your shoulder and eager hands kneading your thighs. Very familiar hands.

“Baekhyun?” You groggily open your blurry eyes, rubbing them before peeking up at him. Your breath hitching in your throat.

Baekhyun plants one last kiss on your heated skin and meets your eyes; pulling a gasp from you as his green orbs meet yours. “When did you get contacts?”

He merely smirks, pushing down one side of your camisole with a finger, “When did you start wearing clothes to bed?”

You gulp, highly aware of his hand rubbing your inner thigh under the blanket and the one cupping your cheek, pressing his thumb into your mouth. The way his green eyes seem to darken at the way your lips wrap around it adding on to the heat building between your legs.

“Do you want to play, kitten?” He murmurs, pulling your thigh around his waist; making you gasp at his hard desire pressing against your core. You nod, letting out a whimper when he grabs a fistfull of your hair, resting his forehead on yours. “Use your words.” He growls.

“Y-Yes.” You breathe, hips lifting to his as he teasingly grinds against your throbbing center, “Please…” You hesitate.

“Baëkhyun,” He utters, ripping your camisole straight down the middle. You hardly have time to reply before he's ripped your panties off as well; two slender fingers pushing into your wet core with a satisfying stretch. His free hand keeps your back pressed to the bed as his digits make quick work of rubbing your clit and finding your g spot.

You don’t try to hold in your moans, there’s no use trying with how his fingers are mercilessly pounding into you; dark green eyes drinking in your form as you gasp and quake under him. Baëkhyun licks his lips, smirking at your pussy clenching around his fingers, “Coming already?”

All you can manage is a nod, whimpering loudly when he promptly pulls his fingers out, wiping off your cum on the inside of your trembling thigh and moving to unbutton his leather pants. The promise of a great orgasm ebbing away in seconds.

“Disobedient sluts don’t get rewards,” He mumbles, not sparing you a glance, too busy pulling his cock out the hole in his pants.

You gulp at the sight of him, understanding dawning on you in waves. You were unsure of his identity at first, asking yourself the possibility of Baekhyun being in one of his spontaneous roleplaying moods. But contacts don’t darken in lust, and your boyfriend - though well endowed - does not have a cock as thick as the one inching closer to your face. Invitingly flushed tip dripping with precum that has you squeezing your thighs together. “I-I’ll be good,” You whisper, mouth watering as you watch him stroke his cock.

Baëkhyun rolls his head back, regarding you with cool eyes. The lone desk light in the corner of your room pleasantly reflecting the smooth surface of his red attire and glistening cock. It is with this that you remember the state of your underdress, cheeks reddening as Baëkhyun’s clothed thighs straddle your bare chest. Shyly looking up at him when he runs a hand through your hair.

“You’ll be a good girl for me?” He hums, lips curling up at your meek yet verbal reply. You breathe in sharply at the feel of his cock pressed to your lips, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Open your pretty little mouth,” He murmurs, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip until you part them, letting his thick cock slide inside. Your fingers twitch a bit against the sheets, feeling the tiniest burn of your lips stretching to accomodate him.

Baëkhyun’s groaning before you can even bob your head, strengthening his grip on your hair to stop your movements. “Let me fuck your mouth, kitten.” He murmurs, fingers lightly brushing over your neck.

You swallow hard, hesitating a second before nodding, relaxing against the pillows as he pushes deeper into your mouth. Surprisingly you don’t freak out when he’s touching the back of your throat, but when he pulls back and enters even more it triggers your gag reflex.

“Good girl.” He mumbles in a deep voice, making you melt at his praise. He gets more daring with his thrusts, steadily bumping into the back of your throat until you’re able to fit all of him in your mouth. 

“Fuck, look at you.” He hisses, “Looking so pretty with my cock down your throat.”

You moan, thighs tightly clenched as he pleasures himself with your mouth, growing hotter at his hard thrusts and the drool dripping onto your chest.

When he finally pulls back, you take a deep breath, face feeling flushed and extremely wet. Before you can take in another, the room is suddenly spinning, coming back into focus as you find yourself facing the foot of your bed, Baëkhyun brushing his cock through your folds.

“You’ve been so good for me.” He purrs, pulling a loud gasp from your throat when his fingers wrap around your neck, “I think kitten deserves a little reward.”

“Y-Yes.” You gulp, fisting the sheets; growing ridiculously hot at the feeling of his cock rubbing over your sensitive clit and the wetness covering your thighs. “P-Please!”

“Look at you,” He chuckles, teasingly pushing his tip into your sopping core, “Dripping wet for me.”

He’s slamming his cock fully inside before you can reply, leaving your thighs to tremble within a few precise thrusts and constantly knocking the air from your restricted lungs. His deep grunts contrast with your faint high pitched moans as his hips mercilessly snap into your ass, hitting your spot dead on every time with his hand tightening around your neck. It feels so fucking good your eyes fall closed, welling up with tears.

But a misplaced noise has your eyes snapping open, wide orbs meeting the ones of your boyfriend, standing in the doorway with his jaw practically touching the floor.

“You finally noticed, kitten?” Baëkhyun chuckles, gripping tight onto your hip and pushing your head to the bed, “Cock hungry whore can’t think of anything else but my dick.”

You whimper, you can’t help it. Watching the tent in Baekhyun’s pants grow as Baëkhyun pounds you into your next life. A gasp escaping your parted lips when you come, moaning and quaking on his relentless cock. Crying out at the slap Baëkhyun lands on your ass.

He tsks. “Greedy whore.” He wraps a hand in your hair, lifting your boneless head to face a stunned Baekhyun, “Are you going to let me cum inside your tight pussy in front of your boyfriend?”

You gulp, licking your dry lips. Feeling another wave of heat shoot down between your legs at the way he’s watching you both. “Yes,” You utter in a hoarse voice.

You can sense the smirk on Baëkhyun’s face as he starts shooting off inside you, shoving his dick deep into your eager core and marking you as his. “My pussy.” He growls, making you whimper in agreement.

The haze of lust finally starts to clear from your mind, eyes widening in realization as you blink up at Baekhyun, his silent form walking up to the bed.

“Kitten owes Baekhyun a little apology,” Baëkhyun muses, hand holding your chin while brushing his lips against your ear. “Spread your legs and suck him off. I want a taste of this pussy.”

Making a soft noise in acknowledgment, you find yourself following his command without much thought; moving to pull out your boyfriend from his jeans as he looks down at you with a dark look you haven’t quite seen before.

Baëkhyun doesn’t even wait for you to start, he’s already got his head between your thighs, harshly sucking on your clit and tugging your folds with his teeth. “Kitten.” He purrs over the sounds of your moans; the vibrations making your legs weak. “Are you going to choke on his cock like you did for me?”

You moan, slipping Baekhyun into your mouth and at the back of your throat with ease. Pressure steadily builds in your stomach at the way he moans your name, gripping your hair.

Baëkhyun is vigorously sucking away at your entrance, the obscene noises and knowledge of what he did to you there earlier bringing you to a very dangerous peak. “Greedy whore cumming again.” He chuckles against your clenching hole, landing a smack on your ass that jolts your body, making you choke further on Baekhyun’s cock. “Bet you got him close to blowing his load already.”

“Shut.” Baekhyun says through clenched teeth, steadily fucking into your relaxed throat. “The fuck up.”

All you can do is moan, growing closer at this new side of him and gushing on Baëkhyun’s face. He only grabs tighter onto your ass, keeping you prisoner to his sinful mouth. “M-Mmm,” You try to get his attention, thighs trembling uncontrollably in sensitivity while Baekhyun is still down your throat.

Baëkhyun only lands another smack on your ass, “Stay still.” He mumbles over your little whimpers. “I know you can take it.”

It’s in that moment that you really realize the position you are in. Wedged between your growing close boyfriend and his sexy evil twin, hellbent on making you a mess. Damn it if you aren’t one and damn it if you aren’t loving every second of it. Baëkhyun’s got you right where he wants you. 

Baekhyun shudders above you, cock quivering on your tongue as he cums down your throat. And you dutifully swallow every last drop, shaking at the seams when you are coming as well. Vision going black at the powerful orgasm Baëkhyun pulls from your aching body. For the sake of your boneless body, a part of you hopes it’s the last.

“Good girl.” Baëkhyun hums, thankfully lifting you off of him as Baekhyun slips out of your mouth; rearranging you against the pillows of the bed. You barely move a muscle, eyes fluttering open when you feel a warm body pressed to yours, looking up at a quiet Baekhyun. You gulp, finding the energy to look away with flushed cheeks, blinking at Baëkhyun readjusting himself next to the bed.

“That was fun,” He muses, running a hand through his nearly perfect hair. Not a hint of exhaustion in his whole body as he looks back at you with a smirk. “Can’t wait to see you again, pretty.”

“Get lost.” Baekhyun mutters, pulling you closer to his side.

Baëkhyun watches the interaction with an even wider smirk, green eyes glinting mischievously. “Maybe,” He utters in amusement, standing unbothered in the doorway as it glows in a blinding white light, “We can do this again sometime.”

You’ve barely managed a whispered ‘Yes’ when he’s disappearing from view, but something tells you that he knows.

You hear the creek of a floorboard in the attic overhead.

He always knows.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Will you please do a drabble with all the baby speedsters but w/ Barry and Wally being adults still? this whole situation is so funny lol🤍

yes! I saw this the other day, but had to work!

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When Wally got the call from a bewildered Lian, telling him to get to Omega tower, he didn’t know what to expect. Linda insists on coming with him. On the run there, all their minds can do is prepare for the worst. Prepare for broken bones, bloody uniforms, their children fighting for their lives.

They aren’t prepared as the living area opens and two tiny, familiar figures zoom around a few bewildered Omega members. 

“Momee!”

“Hi, Dadee!” 

The tiny figures stop. Irey and Jai, their normally 17 year old twins, can’t be more than 3 years old. Blinking, their parents take in the over sized t-shirts the two are wearing.

“Woke up this morning and they were both like that.” Lian finally says. “Er, not in  the shirts. Mil’s doing a clothes run.”

“Li-naan!” Jai pulls on the archer’s hand, “We pay pi’ates!”

“Momee!” Irey tugs on Linda’s pants, “Piggies, piggies!”

“She’s been saying that for the last hour.” Jon says, rubbing the back of his neck. “No idea what she means.”

“Pigtails.” Linda picks Irey up, confused as the toddler grabs onto her shirt collar like she used to. “Babe--”

“Already calling Barry.”

Barry doesn’t believe him at first. Then, not even two hours later, the Omega living area has 6 toddlers in it, most of them running at inhuman speeds. Jaime sits on the kitchen counter with his sister, head in his hands as his fiancé runs around like a looney toon. 

“¿Por qué yo? ¿Por qué?”

“¿Porque Dios tiene sentido del humor?“ Mil suggests, patting his shoulder.

Cursing the speedforce (because really, what else could be the explanation?) Barry, Iris, Wally, and Linda at least have some experience with the speedster toddlers...they’re just really out of practice.

“Donny! Get off Bart’s head!”

“Dawn! Put your clothes back--”

“WAAAAHH!!”

“Jai! Don’t pull your sister’s ha--IREY! WE DON’T HIT!” Wally runs over to pull the twins apart. Irey wiggles in Wally’s grasp as she tries to get at her brother. Jai doesn’t help by making more faces. Barry’s still trying to get Dawn back in her clothes, telling Donny to get off Bart again as Linda grabs at them, only for the two to disappear. The only toddler not running around is Mel, hiding behind Iris’s leg and soon joined by Donny. The other members of Omega watch in facsination at the chaos. 

“I feel like I need to apologize.” Lian snorts as Wally pulls Irey off Jai, the little boy zooming over to her, “Was I as much a little shit as these two?”

“You were only slightly better because you ran at normal speeds.” Wally grunts, struggling to hold onto Irey, “Lightning Bug, please, for Daddy--”

“Can I help at all?” Mar’i offers.

“Please.” 

Colin leans over to Jon, “Is your girlfriend about to use her princess voice on some toddlers?” 

Despite the name, the voice reminds them that Mar’i had been raised to rule, to lead. That voice is one of the few things that can bring a group of seasoned heroes to silence, can bring a nation to it’s knees. It’s terrifying watching her slip into that persona. Her carefree smile fading into a hardened, stoic look. Like she’d seen more horrors in 16 years than others had seen in lifetimes.

But that’s not the voice she uses. 

No, her face softens as she moves to a clear area. The six toddlers look toward her, much like the others do. It’s impossible not to.

“Little friends,” Mar’i smiles at the children, “Do you all want to play a game?”

Five little blurs run to her as fast as they can. Mel stays behind Iris, clinging to the reporter’s leg. 

“Mel? Do you want to join us or watch a while?” 

“I watch...” The toddler hides her face in Iris’s leg, shaking.

“Okay.” There’s a warmth in Mar’i’s voice none of the others have heard before. “If you want to jump in, you’re more than welcome, okay?”

The princess waits for a nod before standing, looking at the other toddlers grabbing at her legs, “Now! Little friends, let’s get in a circle--”

“Pay! Pay!” Dawn bounces, keeping her clothes on for the moment.

“We will play! Now, circle, circle.” 

The very tired parents watch gratefully as Mar’i leads the toddlers through some fun exercises, seeing who can jump highest, touch their toes, etc. Mel drifts over after a while, managing to jump high enough to hit Mar’i’s hand. The smile on her small face warms them all inside. Mar’i even gets their parents and the others in on the fun.

A few of them bite their tongues when Irey looks up at Damian and tells him he has a ‘stinky face,’ like he smelled something bad. 

By the end, the toddlers all curl up against each other on the couch.

“I forgot how cute they were.” Linda says softly, running her hand through Irey’s hair.

“I have no idea how we survived.” Iris snorts. 

“I’m just trying to forget one toddler is the kid of two other toddlers.” Barry wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, “Mar’i, you’re a life saver.”

“It was nothing.” The princess shrugs, “I’d be a bad dance teacher if I couldn’t handle a few energetic toddlers.”

“If they don’t change back soon, we need you on standby.”

“Dadee?” Jai yawns, stretching. Deciding to take the affection, Wally picks his son up. “Wuv Dadee...”

“Love you too, Little Man.” As Jai tucks his head under Wally’s chin, the older speedster remembers how often he’d walk around their tiny apartment, shushing one or both his kids to sleep. The sound of little feet pitter pattering to meet him at the door after work. The endless babble that became words and conversations. The sticky hands grabbing his face because he had to listen to them. When did his kids grow up?