#its the only logical solution

[saturnniidae]

I love the idea of Hiccup being plagued with guilt whenever he's not able to bond with a dragon or has to fight one (despite it often being self defense he has no choice in). Like, the whole thing with the skrill probably weighed on him for years until they caught it again and he chose to release it.

[metapphjores]

there is no future or liberation for any movements that sees their "enemies" as non-human

[uniquezombiedestiny]

...

[tacagen]

can we talk about how wrong the finish line ending is. can we talk about how barry sees snapping thawne's neck as their point of no return when thawne directly expressed hope barry can still live up to his idealised expectations several times and even spoke of how exactly he can achieve that. can we talk about how barry while having the best intentions fucks with thawne's speed and timeline resetting him to a humble curator with no powers and makes their situation a THOUSAND times worse when thawne comes back as reverse-flash because that reset is a direct and ultimate confirmation of barry's desire to forget thawne and make it like he never existed (the very thing that motivates thawne to mess with barry at all, the very thing he went insane about and which led him to becoming reverse-flash) and how thats similar to creation of the flashpoint which was done with good intentions and changed the world forever even after being undone. can we talk about how it also resembles lobotomy as in permanently fucking up persons brain and its necessary functions to make them more calm and controllable in their mental illness instead of actually helping them which takes a lot more time thought and effort and how that was a quick and seemingly effective but inherently destructive solution. can we talk about how barry by taking away eobard's powers also takes his freedom from societal expectations and standards of his time he clearly didnt fit in and 25th century in general. can we talk about how barry also took the only good memories thawne ever had aka their moments together and especially their first meeting which thawne saw as perfect and held very dearly just like any other interaction with barry including the reverse era ones. can we talk about how fucking intrusive, invalidating and selfish is the whole concept of erasing any kind of memories from another persons brain, no matter how hurtful or bad or self-sabotaging those can be especially involuntarily and how only the said person should have control over that because that is their damn life. can we talk about what such betrayal will do to a man who previously became the reverse-flash just because of one single phrase that he thought was something special only between him and barry. can we talk about how this time thawne paradoxically didnt even do anything to deserve that because he never met barry and never had such possibility in the first place. can we t

[kefnut-the-gweilologist]

hm

[chromegnomes]

the most frustrating thing about AI Art from a Discourse perspective is that the actual violation involved is pretty nebulous

like, the guys "laundering" specific artists' styles through AI models to mimic them for profit know exactly what they're doing, and it's extremely gross

but we cannot establish "my work was scraped from the public internet and used as part of a dataset for teaching a program what a painting of a tree looks like, without anyone asking or paying me" as, legally, Theft with a capital T. not only is this DMCA Logic which would be a nightmare for 99% of artists if enforced to its conclusion, it's not the right word for what's happening

the actual Violation here is that previously, "I can post my artwork to share with others for free, with minimal risk" was a safe assumption, which created a pretty generous culture of sharing artwork online. most (noteworthy) potential abuses of this digital commons were straightforwardly plagiarism in a way anyone could understand

but the way that generative AI uses its training data is significantly more complicated - there is a clear violation of trust involved, and often malicious intent, but most of the common arguments used to describe this fall short and end up in worse territory

by which I mean, it's hard to put forward an actual moral/legal solution unless you're willing to argue:

Potential sales "lost" count as Theft (so you should in fact stop sharing your Netflix password)

No amount of alteration makes it acceptable to use someone else's art in the production of other art without permission and/or compensation (this would kill entire artistic mediums and benefit nobody but Disney)

Art Styles should be considered Intellectual Property in an enforceable way (impossibly bad, are you kidding me)

it's extremely annoying to talk about, because you'll see people straight up gloating about their Intent To Plagiarize, but it's hard to stick them with any specific crime beyond Generally Scummy Behavior unless you want to create some truly horrible precedents and usher in The Thousand Year Reign of Intellectual Property Law

[vamptastic]

idk how to explain to people that living in a diaspora sucks and that the prospect of an eternal cycle of expulsions is immensely depressing. i am utterly disgusted by the current actions of the state of israel and basically every single new thing i learn about the founding of israel makes it worse. doesn't make me less sad to let go of the idea of ever living somewhere where i'm not part of a tiny minority in constant risk of danger. even if antisemitism didn't exist it's inherently kind of a bummer to be speaking a different language wearing different clothes and eating different food from everybody around you, forever.

[determinate-negation]

the misinformation about hamas is unreal even on the pro-palestine side. their current charter even lays out terms for a possible two-state solution (which the israeli government dismissed before it was even finished being written) and in three separate paragraphs they outline that they will not persecute anyone on the basis of religion, race or gender and do not have a quarrel with the jewish people, only the zionist entity of israel. but everyone keeps saying READ THEIR CHARTER! THEY WANT TO GENOCIDE JEWS! i read the whole thing? the only thing they said about jews was that they don't have a problem with jews and they even acknowledge the european antisemitism that lead to the zionist entity...

yeah. i recommend anyone to check out this article and read their charter themselves

The Zionist project does not target the Palestinian people alone; it is the enemy of the Arab and Islamic Ummah posing a grave threat to its security and interests. It is also hostile to the Ummah’s aspirations for unity, renaissance and liberation and has been the major source of its troubles. The Zionist project also poses a danger to international security and peace and to mankind and its interests and stability. 16. Hamas affirms that its conflict is with the Zionist project not with the Jews because of their religion. Hamas does not wage a struggle against the Jews because they are Jewish but wages a struggle against the Zionists who occupy Palestine. Yet, it is the Zionists who constantly identify Judaism and the Jews with their own colonial project and illegal entity. 17. Hamas rejects the persecution of any human being or the undermining of his or her rights on nationalist, religious or sectarian grounds. Hamas is of the view that the Jewish problem, anti-Semitism and the persecution of the Jews are phenomena fundamentally linked to European history and not to the history of the Arabs and the Muslims or to their heritage. The Zionist movement, which was able with the help of Western powers to occupy Palestine, is the most dangerous form of settlement occupation which has already disappeared from much of the world and must disappear from Palestine.

Most vital, and despite maintaining the right of Palestinians to strive for and achieve their liberation, Article 20 then asserts:

Hamas considers the establishment of a fully sovereign and independent Palestinian state, with Jerusalem as its capital along the lines of the 4th of June 1967, with the return of the refugees and the displaced to their homes from which they were expelled, to be a formula of national consensus.

Hamas thus consents to recognize an Israel along its 1967 lines, before Israel annexed territory in two successive wars and pursued further violent land grabs in Syria’s Golan. Ironically, this leaves Hamas policy closer to international law than the relentless Israeli projects of border and settlement expansion.

[hedgehog-moss]

(There is blood pictured at the end of this post) (well, 1 drop) (don't worry it's mine, not some innocent creature's)

I found a dormouse in my kitchen today, just chilling on the ceiling above my head, watching me cook. Maybe even judging my cooking technique like Ratatouille. I only noticed its presence because there's a bunch of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling above the stove and at one point I heard a rustling, then a crunching noise.

It was eating my herbs.

As if they were a little snack I'd placed here for my dormouse friends. None of my other animals can walk on the ceiling, therefore any food that's near the ceiling must be an offering to the dormice. (I admit, that's sound logic.)

A dormouse family has been living in my walls since before I moved here—I should probably call it a dormouse dynasty, by now. Here's the first post I wrote about them, in 2019 ! The cats eat a lot of them (especially Morille, she loves dormice) but apparently not enough to make the key decision makers in this dormouse community decide that living in my house is more trouble than it's worth.

Every year when they hibernate and go quiet for eight months I have the renewed hope that this time the cats got rid of all of them, but the next spring they wake up and start scratching inside my walls in the middle of the night again. (Not only that's creepy, but it's so loud.)

Anyway, this dormouse, let's call him Alfred. I saw immediately which hole between two stones he'd crawled out of and the first thing I did was to stuff a salt shaker in there to block his escape route. Step 2 was to call for backup—I summoned Morille, and she came down from the living-room 2 seconds later (the cats know it's always good news when I call them to the kitchen while cooking.)

Alfred was panicking.

I grabbed a broom and started threatening him with it like an angry old woman in a cartoon. He tried to flee towards the ladder, but Morille was there. He tried to flee towards the door, but Morille was also there. He tried to hide on top of the fridge, and Morille happily lay siege to it, like my fridge was a Gallic oppidum on top of a hill and Morille was Caesar and his entire army.

Morille was having the time of her life.

But my kitchen door was ajar, and Alfred managed a heroic jump from the top of the fridge to the lintel, like a flying squirrel. He scurried out then grabbed hold of the climbing rose right above the door. When I got out and took this photo, he looked fairly stressed and pessimistic.

I didn't want him to climb the wall all the way to the eaves and go right back into my house, so I went back in to get my broom again, either to make him lose his grip and fall straight into Morille's gaping maw (sorry), or make him run away into the woods (inferior solution; they always find their way back, unless you take them very far away.)

(I used to trap dormice humanely then drive them 3km away to release them near the barn of a neighbour I disliked, but this neighbour has since moved. (Not because of my dormouse warfare, I swear.) There's also an abandoned house in the woods where I used to exile my prisoners, but after a while I started feeling silly driving around the countryside with dormice in the backseat, so I stopped trapping them (it really was a hassle) and just let the cats eat them.)

But Alfred is a combative and resourceful rodent. In the half-minute it took me to go back in and grab my broom, he laid a trap for me.

He ran along the stem of my climbing rose in such a way that his weight made it droop jussst enough to be now hanging at face level rather than above the door. So when I ran outside again with my broom, I was slapped in the face by a thorny rose plant. (For a minute I thought I was crying tears of blood, which seemed worrying, but it was just a scratch above my eye.) (I wish it could leave a tiny scar, so people will ask how I got it, and I will tell them about the mighty dormouse wielding a rose sword.)

I sent these pics to my brother hoping to get some sympathy, and he cropped & desaturated the one with the blood teardrop then sent it back with the comment "you look like an Evanescence song"

By this point I decided Alfred had won this battle. (Not the war, because it's almost autumn aka hibernation time so he probably found another gap between two stones and went right back inside. The war continues.) But this humble dormouse set a Saw trap to poke my eyes out the second I stepped outside my house and I respect that. I admire the way he used his environment to his advantage, and teamed up with my climbing rose to level the playing field (since I had teamed up with my cat first.) He has won the right to spend another winter inside my walls, curled up in my cosy wool insulation, dreaming of dried herbs, thwarted cats, and heroic skydiving from fridgetops.

Well played.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist 

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away.  You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired  of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

 “Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

[eamour]

the bridge of events.

something that most of us eventually do or have done is try to "fix" a certain situation in our physical worlds. we have encountered something very unlikable and therefore want to "un-manifest" it by thinking of a way to do so. however, that's not your job. moreover, that's not your GOAL.

definition.

the "bridge of events" refers to the lined up situations you will have to experience or go through in order to reach the physical fulfillment of your desire. it's an unpredictable process that describes how, when and where you will receive your desire in the outer world, basically the "bridge" that's between your current and your desired reality.

disregard the bridge.

can you decide the way in which your heart's desires are going to come to fruition? most definitely, you can. but you don't have to. see, you don't have to come up with a detailed solution on how an unfavourable situation is going to change to a favourable one. you don't have to mess around with logical possibilities and realistic outcomes. actually, you don't even need to be bothered by it. you do not need to worry at all.

concentrate on the destination.

you only need to be concerned about WHAT you want, nothing and no one else. you need to focus on what's at the end of the line and fixate your mind on it. nail your thoughts on the version of yourself who HAS and IS what you wish to have or be already, and don't care about the obstacles in your reality. don't "reason" your way into obtaining your desire. go to the end and make sure to stay in alignment with that version of yours. dwell on that version. be it, be the end, not the bridge. do not wait or wonder. enjoy your desire. experience it in the mind. within an infinite range of realities, your desired one already EXISTS!

renounce all circumstances.

if you witness something that brings you off track or just generally throws you off your path, what are you going to do?

exactly, you are going to dismiss it. it's entirely up to you if you use a different term to deal with the outer world — such as ignore, renounce, abandon, neglect, reject, refuse — as long as you do not accept it as true.

whatever happens physically is none of your concern, none of your interest and not worth your time, energy and attention. do not let it get in your way. do not let it affect or influence your new, freshly established assumptions. because the undesirable reality that's currently being displayed isn't the reality you want to begin with. the reality you are manifesting ISN'T the one you are experiencing right now! it has nothing to do with you. you are not obligated to accept or associate yourself with it. it holds no truthfulness, no rightness, no correctness and definitely no realness. and remember: it does not serve as a form of validation either!

do not interfere with the physical. do not intervene. do not take action. withhold from any acts that do not take place in the mind. leave the world as it is, as the old reality doesn't reflect your new one anymore.

consequently, feel the way you would feel and then let go of it. you want to distance yourself from the story that's no longer yours. you no longer identify with that version of self anymore.

"the display of the old story and its circumstances isn't an invitation to return back to it."

persist in imagination.

let it come to pass. let it unfold in your reality. simply persist in your newly chosen reality. select your desired reality every day and don't stop. accept it as true, as correct and as real. your imagination is your confirmation. your imaginative acts are your source of validation. so have faith and trust yourself.

the thing is, if you continuously persist in your desired outcome, you are going to walk the bridge one way or another. your desire is going to announce itself and you will acknowledge it — there is no way around it! it WILL show up, and you WILL notice it. you HAVE to. that's the law!

with love, ella.

[ddarker-dreams]

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in. 

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work. 

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication. 

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows. 

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?” 

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution. 

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans. 

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out. 

Very astute of him. 

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells. 

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does. 

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across. 

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.” 

Of course he does. 

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall. 

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. 

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground. 

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze. 

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges. 

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…? 

[01zfan]

argue with you pt. 2 | s. es

valedictorian!eunseok x debate team leader!reader | 7.3k words

had too much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy.

contains: enemies to ??? started from a misunderstanding, sneaking around, hand stuff, protected sex (yasss), slight love confessions.

argue with you: one | two | three

you have your hand on your doorknob as you contemplate what you’re going to do. the spare keycard to get to eunseok’s room is still in your back pocket. you spent the whole day checking to see if it was actually real. the rest of the competition you would occasionally poke your two fingers into your back pocket, grasping the thin plastic card between your two fingers. you didn’t dare to take it fully out of your pocket until you were able to sneak away to the bathroom. 

you gawked at it and flexed it in your hands when you closed yourself in a stall. you were tempted to bite on it like you were testing gold or to hold it up to the light like it was a dollar bill. it felt unreal, you had to check for its authenticity.

the keycard served as proof for the day you had. you would’ve never thought that you would be in this position, fighting every emotion trying to figure out what to do. you couldn’t logically comprehend any emotion with need brewing underneath your skin like a storm. 

you wish you could logically break down this situation like you did when you were debating. it was hard to methodically find a solution when you swear you could feel eunseok’s soft and gentle hands on your face. you could feel the faintest outline of his lips on yours as he kissed you so gently. even though your encounter with him was rushed and hasty, you still remember the effort eunseok put in to make sure you were being taken care of. he was the one who reached for your pants first, the one who cleared the table so you could be perched there before him. his hand in your pants had your underwear and slacks working against him but he was still able to make you feel pleasure. that was rare among your selection of men. 

it should’ve dawned on you a long time ago that eunseok wasn’t like other guys. he had the charisma and the performance to back his confidence. when other men would rush through the motions sometimes being a little rough, eunseok was so soft with your face as he kissed you. he kissed you like he wanted to remember it, like he had been waiting for it. the skin of his stomach was pulled taut when you touched him underneath his shirt. if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he froze from nervousness. when you stuck your tongue in eunseok’s mouth it suddenly felt like there was a fire brewing underneath his skin. as fast as the encounter began it ended, being cockblocked by the alarm on your phone. unfinished business left your mind reeling. you spent the rest of the day looking at eunseok’s lips—looking at him trying to figure out what was going on. 

eunseok gave no indication verbally of what you guys did in the storage room. after leaving the room, it was business as usual with him. he was still cracking jokes at your expense, being his normal chatty self with the other people on the debate team.

physically though it was different. you noticed that eunseok would hesitate to touch you after telling you a joke. his face was getting red more often, to the point that a chaperone asked if he was sick. eunseok was looking down constantly around you. he was constantly averting his gaze when you two made eye contact, a shy look on his face. he stuck near you the rest of the competition though. usually you only saw him before going into the debate room but today you weren’t a part from him until a chaperone came to tell everyone goodnight, reiterating room assignments and rules for the night.

you were giving indications both physically and verbally. you had to be called to action multiple times to snap yourself out of your daydreaming. multiple times it would be eunseok subtly poking your side, or saying something to help you ease back into the conversation you missed. you were grateful that the storage room event happened after the debate, giving yourself an excuse to tell people as to why you seemed so distracted. you told everyone that you were thinking about the deabate and what you could’ve done differently. what was really distracting you was the feeling of eunseok’s body pressed against yours in the cramped room and feeling him pick you up to set you on the table so he could kiss you better. you couldn’t even give the itinerary and debate assignments for the next day without faltering. you had to check the schedule a million times. you ended up having to hand it over to your sponsor while you recounted everything for the thousandth time.

the more you reflected the more your imagination started to wander. you think about all the teasing and touches, how eunseok would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. you think about his guiding hand on the small of your back while you walked through crowds and the way he pulled out a seat for you at the lunch table. you spent so much time declining all of his acts of service, masking it under him wanting to belittle you. you don’t know if the hate you two had for one another was even hate. you think about when eunseok said he had a crush on you. 

quickly you can feel yourself getting angry at the situation. how cruel is it to have eunseok pine after you behind teasing and acts of service? you even get angry at the fact that he knew how to irk you down to your soul. there’s no reason you should be thinking about him so much outside of your debates. eunseok shouldn’t having you wondering about him when he’s not around.

you quickly get sick of your mind wandering and letting your imagination run wild. you feel your phone buzz in your other pocket but you ignore it—it’s probably a question that one of the freshmen have. whatever it is, its a problem for tomorrow. you turn your doorknob and exit your room with the goal of not having to wonder about eunseok anymore.

sneaking to eunseok’s room was unbelievably easy. it’s not so much getting caught by the chaperones but moreso accidentally running into someone else on your team. you pass by some rooms and can hear your teammates inside laughing. you tiptoe just to be safe. you curse the room assignments for making your room on the opposite end of eunseok’s.

you stand in front of eunseok’s door, coming to terms with what you’re about to do. you don’t know why you’re so nervous, feeling the same antsy feeling beore you go into a debate. you know it’s stupid to linger in front of his door like this, anyone who comes out of their room would be able to see you. so you try to find that same anger you had in your room as you take your keycard from your back pocket. 

the card shakes in your hand and you hesitate for just a second, but you swear you can hear a door in the hall begin to open. you panic and quickly swipe the card, opening the door without a second thought.

you gently close the door, careful not to slam it and draw attention to the room down the hall. you are so focused on getting to eunseok’s room you aren’t sure what to do next once you are inside. the small lamp by the couch is on and so is the light in the bathroom. you curse yourself for choosing the worst possible time to come into his room, of course he’s showering while you stand next to his door like an idiot. the anger you have at yourself is redirected towards eunseok. why would he be showering when he was expecting company? you sit on the armrest of his couch waiting for him to be done.

eunseok actually wasn’t expecting you to show up at all. you could tell by the shocked look on his face when he came out of the shower. you tried your best to seem upset, standing up from the couch to cross your arms. but seeing eunseok come out of the bathroom made your face hot. you had never seen him in such an intimate way, with his hair wet and not in the school or debate uniform. he had you looking down at your feet bashfully without doing a single thing.

eunseok was just as shocked to see you, freezing in place when he saw you quickly get up from the couch. he had spent the better half of an hour waiting on the edge of his bed for you to open his door. he started losing hope and decided to take a shower, devising a plan tomorrow to come up to you and apologize for being too presumptuous. but here you were, in front of him like a dream. eunseok felt his heart do the same thing it did when he saw you debating. he watched you try and be mad but then get shy in his presence. 

“came to return my keycard?” eunseok asked.

you looked up from your feet to eunseok smirking at you. the towel he was using to dry his hair rested on his shoulder. you focused on that as you spoke to him, suddenly too nervous to look in his eyes.

“is it true you have a crush on me?” you asked.

now it was eunseok’s turn to look down bashfully. his shyness only lasted for a second before he recovered. eunseok moved his towel off his shoulder to toss it on his bed, like he knew you were focusing on that. you remember telling him when you first started debating you would look at things close to the persons face if you were too nervous to look in their eyes. now that the towel was gone you were forced to go over all of eunseok’s features trying to find something to stare at. you were failing miserably at not getting nervous looking at him, everything about his face had heat creeping over your body. you are sure you’re close to sweating in front of eunseok, your cold demeanor falling apart right in front of you.

“had. but yeah.” eunseok says. he looks to the digital clock beside his bed. “it’s 9:30. lights out was at 8:30.”

eunseok has to shrug to hide the fact that his heart is about to explode in his ribcage. he has to change the topic because if he talks too much about his very current crush on you he might burst into flames. he hopes that using a time constraint upsets you the same way it does when you receive a time warning in the middle of your presentations.

eunseok is glad that you latch to the ladder of his sentence. if you focus on him trying to boss you around maybe he can avoid the topic of crushes all together.

“if you wanted me here at 8:30 you should’ve told me. you just said lights out at 8:30 then left.” you reason. 

seeing eunseok smile at you made you even more indignant. you were compelled to yell at him from across the room, but the thought of your team finding out where you were made your stomach flip. so you settled for looking at eunseok with wide eyes.

the harsh words in your throat die as you look into eunseok’s eyes.

“don’t look at me like that.” you said.

eunseok tilts his head slightly before a smirk creeps across his face. you had lost the mini debate to him and he has to cash in on your bashfulness quickly.

“are you gonna come over here and do something about it?” eunseok asks.

after eunseok speaks he mimics your pose. you want to wipe the smug look off his face, so you lure him in first. you take slow steps towards eunseok, bringing out your final reserves of confidence. you come up to him, locking your hands behind his neck. you look up to him, giving him the look you practiced in your mirror before coming to his room.

you can’t deny that eunseok looks attractive from this angle. the way your biceps rest in the junction of his neck and shoulder makes him look strong. there’s something about the amusement in eunseok’s eyes and the way his lips move to reveal his smile that has you gawking at him. he looks down at you from his wet bangs and uses a hand to unsuccessfully push them away. his other hand rests on the dip of your hip. you have to get on your tip toes to whisper in his ear and his hand moves to the small of your back to hold you up.

“how long have you had a crush on me?” you whisper into his ear. 

when you pull away from eunseok he doesn’t look shocked. you efforts to have him speechless doesn’t work. it seems like he’s not embarrassed to tell you the truth, having to only think for a second before he answers you.

“since freshman year,” eunseok says. 

you curse eunseok for his ability to always leave you speechless. very rarely did you have nothing to say, but the way he talked sometimes left you wide mouthed with no words coming out. it’s similar to when eunseok would just shrug off counter arguments, continuing his debate like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

you’re lucky eunseok goes to your neck to to press fervent kisses so he couldn’t see your face. “so cute and smart. never met anyone as smart as you.” he says in between the kisses.

in any other instance eunseok would’ve been embarrassed to confess such a thing to you. but his mouth is running by being in your proximity. he’s drunk off your scent and the way your hot skin feels against his lips. eunseok is just lucky that he is preoccupied with fighting the urge to leave marks on your neck. if he kept talking he would’ve told you about all the strings he tried to pull to be in a class with you. you had him bargaining with the principal of your school to put the two of you in a lecture together. if eunseok kept talking he would’ve told you about the sleepless nights he had studying for class, trying to outperform you. eunseok wanted to tell you how lucky he was that you chose to focus on debate, because if you hadn’t you would’ve easily become valedictorian. 

“you’re smarter,” you sigh contently when he kisses a spot below your ear. “you’re literally vald—right there, eunseok.” 

you bump into the corner of the bed frame trying to find a place to sit. your hand fails to find the bed behind you. you blame your lack of depth perception on the way eunseok has to hunch over to kiss your neck. you also blame eunseok’s hair for being too soft that you can’t bring your hand from his head. it doesn’t take long for eunseok to take the initiaive, using the same hand that guided you through crowds of people to guide your body to the comfiest spot on the bed. 

you use the hand on the back of eunseok’s head to guide him closer to your neck. it’s awfully hard to argue with him pressed against you like this. one of eunseok’s hands on the small of your back is warm against the skin underneath your shirt. the other hand touches the side of your face he isn’t kissing. everything is rushing to your head. you would’ve never thought eunseok was such a good listener, kissing right where you asked him to. he kisses the same way he debates, slow and purposeful. eunseok pronounces the end of each kiss the same way he presents the affirmative, filling the room with the sound of contact. you take all of his kisses like a champ, running your hands through his hair and on his back. 

“you brought your turtleneck right?” eunseok murmurs into your skin.

he doesn’t bother to wait for an answer as he places burning kisses to your neck.

“you can leave a mark,” you say softly. you realized how sweet you sounded so you cleared your throat and leaned your head back. “you should’ve told me sooner.”

eunseok murmurs into your skin as he lightly sucks on newly exposed skin. eunseok thought this whole time he was telling you through the doting and gentle teasing. he thought he told you through him begging the sponsor to make him your debate partner. he studied debate every night, hoping a medal would put him in your good graces. it was a plus that he came to like debate and your team. eunseok initially was joining the debate team with the goal of only being average at his best. but if winning meant eunseok could kiss your neck on scratchy sheets in crappy hotels he would gladly study debate for the rest of his life.

“wow. that’s nice.” eunseok hears you sigh as he lightly grazes your skin with his teeth.

eunseok wishes you knew the effect you had on him. every sigh and clench at his shirt has eunseok twitching in his pants. unfortunately, he wasn’t good with words like you were so eunseok had to behave like a caveman and show you with actions. so eunseok lets a hand trail down your face, tracing the outline of your neck before he settles over your breast. he keeps his hand there, not applying any pressure and he looks up at you from your neck. you’ve leaned back even further now, having to use a hand to keep yourself up. you’re arching your back into his touch and wrinkling eunseok’s poor shirt with the vice grip you have on it. you have closed your eyes a long time ago, trying to enhance the feeling of eunseok surrounding you.

eunseok’s dick is heavy against his leg, aching to be free while he looks up at you. you continue to arch your back into his hand and move around, trying to give eunseok silent cues to play with your chest. he silently watches you body react to his in awe before going back to gently kissing your neck.

“this alright?” eunseok says, smiling into your skin.

eunseok notices that your stubborn attitude washes away when pleasure is at stake. you obediently nod your head at his questions and arch more into his hand. eunseok still doesn’t squeeze, waiting to see what you will do if he doesn’t give you what you clearly want. 

“what are you waiting for?” you ask. 

you try to sound demanding but your breathy voice only makes you sound cute and desperate to eunseok. he twitches in his pants again. eunseok is so sensitive that he’s starting to feel pleasure through him straining against the fabric of his pants. he’s sure that if you keep on talking to him he’ll end up cumming before you can even touch him.

“well i just thought since you love telling me what to do so much…” he starts. 

before eunseok can finish his sentence you scoff at him. he continues to look up at you through his bangs, feigning innocence. eunseok is clearly challenging you thinking you won’t rise to the occasion. you decide to remind him what he asked you to come to his hotel room for. you watch the look on eunseok’s face change as you start messing with your belt. he looks at your hands as you make quick work of the belt, throwing it to the side of the bed. you slowly bring up one of your legs to perch on the edge of the bed, while you bring the other one to lay on top of eunseok’s leg. you lean back on both arms, reveling in how shocked he looks. you were able to break his stoic expression. 

“finish what you started.” you say simply.

eunseok looks to your center only for a second before making a move. he immediately goes to the button of your pants and brings down the zipper. he doesn’t bother to pull your pants down before sticking his hand in your underwear. it’s just like in the storage room, you gasping at his impatience. you are amazed at his ability to find your clit so quickly. it causes you to grip the bedsheets and spread your perched leg to give eunseok more access. 

eunseok circles your clit for a moment before he pinches it in his fingers. he’s basically torturing you, rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between his index finger and thumb. eunseok goes back to sucking on your neck as you whimper from the stimulation thinly veiled with pain.

“you like when i do this to you?” eunseok asks into your neck. “when i get you off?”

you nod your head and bite your lip. you bring yourself up at a weird angle so you can rest your face in the crook of eunseok’s neck. you become frenzied as the smell of the soap he brought from home fills your nostrils. you start kissing eunseok’s neck and sucking, leaving marks of your own.

“i need more.” you whined into his skin.

“tell me what you need. boss me around baby.” eunseok says.

his words are submissive but his smile is teasing and domineering. eunseok’s fingers also tease you. they no longer pinch your clit but instead run between your folds. you can hear the low sound of slick between your folds, you think eunseok circles you slower so the sounds can be prolonged . you try not to read to much into everything, like how excited he is to please you, or how your body is responding to eunseok. you tell yourself it’s his skillful hands making you so wet and not the fact that it’s eunseok touching you. 

“put a finger in. please.” you say into his neck.

eunseok backs away from you, forcing you away from his neck. he bends his head down slightly so he can see your face. you look into his eyes, emphasize the phrase had a crush over and over as you can feel him twitching against your thigh. when eunseok puts his finger in, you can see him feeding off your pleasure. you can practically see eunseok getting hornier by the heavy sighs he lets out as you whimper from his finger. 

he’s slow with his finger at first, easing it in and out of you slowly. you coat his hand and eunseok wants to taste you, but he stops himself. he sets his goal on your pleasure and your pleasure alone. if he’s the best you ever had you would come back for seconds. if eunseok got the chance to have you in his bed again, then he’d let himself be selfish. but right now, it was about driving you crazy. so eunseok puts his hand on the other side of your face to turn your head. eunseok sees your half lidded state of bliss and brings you into a kiss. he takes it upon himself to put in another finger, sliding his tongue into your mouth when you open it wider.

you moan into the kiss and eunseok eats it, humming in agreement. you have him hot and bothered too, evident in the precum seeping through his basketball shorts.

when you start grinding your hand against eunseok’s hand you start becoming frantic. you find yourself in a desperate state to bring eunseok pleasure too. your hand moves on it’s own accord to place it over eunseok’s clothed dick.

“fuck.” eunseok says into your mouth.

you have never heard the boy beside you cuss before, even in the most stressful situations. when you would lose your cool during a debate, you would be whispering expletives under your breath while eunseok laughed. you never understood why he found such amusement in you cursing until now. you clamped your hand around his length, wanting to hear him curse some more.

eunseok puts in another finger in response to you touching him. he wants to tease you some more, ask you to boss him around until you cum. eunseok knows that if he speak it will be broken into moans and whimpers, influences by your hand that’s almost wrapped around his dick. it gets to be too much when you slip your hand underneath the waistband of his shorts.

you grasp him in your hand and eunseok pulses. he’’ll fall against you soon and cum in your hand if you keep it up. eunseok tries to take a deep breath in, something to stop himself from cumming. but once you give him two strokes he’s pulling your hand from his pants. you open your eyes to look at him in confusion. the hazy look you hve in your eyes almost sends him over the edge.

eunseok doesn’t tell you why he made you stop. he jut uses the hand not inside of you to gently push your lower body down, until your back in resting on the bed. you continue to grind, the bottom of his palm stimulating your clit. you forget about him denying a handjob while you chase your own release. 

eunseok is propped up on his elbow as he watched your body react to him. he could see your stomach muscles flexing to activate your hips against his hand. your heart rate and breathing increases in pace. eunseok watched your chest was heave and the outline of your bra pushes against your button up. through the strained buttons he can see the exposed skin of your chest. eunseok increases the pace and you dig nails into the skin of his shoulder—the only part of his body you can reach.

he secretly loves the pain, seeing you be rough with him makes his dick unbearably hard. eunseok almost starts humping your leg that’s pressed against him. he knows you can feel his hardened length against your thigh. you start using your shaking hand that’s not gripping eunseok to shastily push your pants down. you lift your hips and eunseok’s helps you immediately, pulling your underwear and panties down in one go.

“i’m close.” you say to the ceiling.

you finished kicking your pants off and you can hear them thud against the. ground. you had nothing holding you back from spreading your legs even further and bending both knees. eunseok uses a free hand to rub on your legs, caressing the soft skin.

“come for me,” eunseok groans. you let out your loudest whimper at the sound of his voice “come all over my fingers.”

eunseok watches you from his shoulder as you come undone around him. it’s an orgasm that makes you arch off the bed and scratch down his arm. eunseok has heard you say his name a million times during this debate season. you would say it in times of distress and annoyance, say his name cheerfully when you won a debate. but the way you said his name now, repeating it like a mantra was something he never heard before. he looked at the outline of your lips as you repeated his name, hoping to engrave the image in his mind forever. he wants to tell you to keep going—to keep saying his name— but he doesn’t want to pull you out of your current state. you don’t stop saying his name and eunseok deosn’t stop his hand, picking up his speed as he continues to watch you.

eunseok doesn’t take out his fingers until his name turns into whimpers and your moans turn into cries. he slows down at first, to let you regain your bearings. 

when you open your eyes to look at eunseok he withdraws his hand. eunseok’s eyes are blown out as he continues to tease you.

as you come down from your high, you’re too aware of the fact that eunseok brought you to euphoria while watching the whole thing. you suddenly think about if the face you made while cumming was attractive, or if it disgusted eunseok. you are still embarrassed thinking about eunseok pushing your hand away and you tried to give him a handjob. were your hands not skilled enough in the storage closet? 

he continued to stare at you and you felt heat creeping over your face. you looked at your button up eunseok’s clothes. you weren’t sure how to segway into the next part of the night, if he still wanted you.

“should i get undressed?” you ask.

“only if you want to.” eunseok says.

you stand up from the bed quickly, standing in front of eunseok. not being in his proximity helps too, feeling his hand on you causes everything to get fuzzy.

eunseok gives you no comfort, leaning back on the bed with his elbows propping himself up. the way eunseok looks you up and down eases your mind. he says nothing but lets you know the attraction is still there by looking at you with a hunger you’ve never seen.

he silently pushes himself off the bed to come to you. eunseok looks down at you with adoration, working slowly on each button. you don’t know what to do under his gaze, uncharacteristically tender. his fingers smell like you and are still wet against your skin as he gets your top button.

“so beautiful.” eunseok says. 

he doesn’t murmur or whisper underneath his breath anymore. he makes sure you can hear him loud and clear. you shake your head as he undoes another button.

“i mean it. so beautiful i don’t know what to do about it.” eunseok laughs.

“just keep touching me.” you say.

eunseok works on another button.

“you’re the most beautiful when you debate. you know that, right?” eunseok asks. “the determined look on your face. your confidence. you almost make me forget what i’m supposed to say.”

eunseok’s eyes are trained on your buttons, trying to undo the rest of them. he can’t bring himself to look directly at your bare skin just yet, afraid he might combust if he does. you put your hands on top of his so he doesn’t stop.

“i don’t believe you.” you whisper.

“why not?” eunseok looks at you. 

he has only one button left on your shirt.

“no one has ever told me that before.” you say.

you look at his hands on your last button. eunseok uses his fingers that smell like you to tilt your head upwards. he holds the contact with you.

“so just because no one has told you before it’s not true? that sounds like a fallacy to me.” eunseok says with a smirk.

you roll your eyes at him, knowing it’s true. you wonder what else about eunseok thinks about you as he undoes the final button. he gently takes you out of your button up, tossing it onto the couch. eunseok uses a single hand to take his shirt off as well.

you both stare at the other. you knew eunseok had a good body, something your school and debate uniforms tried to hid. but you got quick peaks of his body when he’d stretch his upper half and his shirt would lift a little higher. you always felt like someone from the middle ages each time you got the chance to see eunseok in gym clothes. 

he seemed to think the same about your body, the way he was raking over all your features. he stops on your bra, his hand going to the strap. eunseok looks into your eyes before pulling it back. you maintain eye contact as he lets the strap go, letting it snap against your skin.

“i can’t believe i get to see you like this.” eunseok says.

he lets the strap snap against your skin again and you do the same with his basketball shorts.

“can you take them off?” you ask.

eunseok nods and reaches for his pants the same time you reach for the back of your bra. 

you both reveal your bare bodies at the same time. you let your bra fall in the space between you two and eunseok steps out of his basketball shorts. you can see a large wet spot in his basketball shorts. you will have to bring that up at a different time. maybe if you whisper in his ear that you know he came in his pants fingering you, you could see a blush dust across his cheeks.

“wow.” eunseok says looking at your chest.

you share the same sentiment, watching his hard dick bob up and down in the air. you forgot you never got the chance to see his dick before now. it was bigger than you thought. of course eunseok would have a big dick, and of course he knew it too. 

you bring his hand up to finally squeeze your chest. eunseok takes your breasts into his hands immediately. he’s fascinated by your supple skin and the way it spills into his hands. you grab his dick, happy that he will finally let your touch him. you already start jerk

you two stand there for awhile, just feeling the other up. your free hand roams the expanse of his chest.

“do you have a condom?” you ask, looking up to him. eunseok still has his eyes on your chest as he nods.

“in my bag.” he murmurs.

you both continue to touch eachother while eunseok leads you to his backpack.

“did you plan this?” you ask.

eunseok shakes his head and laughs while opening his bag.

“i’m just always prepared.” eunseok pulls out the foil packet. 

eunseok holds the packet in his hand before picking you up. he lifts you with ease, and you can feel the excitement overtake your body. 

eunseok carries you to the bed and sets you down. you crawl towards the headrest as eunseok follows you. he looks at you like he’s going to eat you for dinner, his lips kissing whatever body part he can reach. eunseok kisses your thighs and stomach, your hand and chest. you can feel his dick against your thigh when eunseok breaks apart from you to kiss your shoulders. 

eunseok’s lips travel down your body to your chest. he looks up at you only for a second before he takes your nipple in his mouth. you can’t stop yourself from fisting his hair and arching your back into him. 

“oh my god.” you whine.

he sucks harshly, only letting go with a lewd pop to move to the other one. you let your head fall back against the headrest as you continue to pet his head.

with eunseok above you like this you start to get self conscious. the position is intimate, too intimate for the whatever is going on between you and him. if he were to fuck you in this position, you wouldn’t be able to look at anything but him. you imagine eunseok panting into your neck, whimpering in your ear as he cums inside of you, or him pulling away to look into your eyes as you finish. you wouldn’t be able to keep any developing feelings at bay in that situation. even now you were holding back an “i like you” as he sucked on your chest. eunseok breaks apart from your chest and begins to crawl above you. when he puts his hand beside your head you close your eyes.

“can i be on top?” you say abruptly.

eunseok stops moving to look down at you. he’s taken aback from your offer, when you open your eyes eunseok is sure you can see his wide eyed expression. he want’s nothing more than to fuck you in missionary, so he can whisper in your ear about how good you make him feel. but he will to do everything to make you comfortable so he nods his head and moves backwards on the bed.

“do your thing.” eunseok says.

you get up from the bed and switch positions with eunseok. the trade is a little awkward, but eunseok’s hands on your hips light a new fire inside of you. you slowly adjust so you can straddle his lap. you take eunseok into your hands and he lets out a tiny hiss from the contact.

“can you take it all?” eunseok asks from his spot on the bed.

his hands move to rest behind his head as he watched you line his dick up with your entrance. he was enjoying his private show, eyes stuck on your furrowed eyebrows.

“you look so determined.” eunseok giggles as you slowly sink down.

when his tip pushes into you, you gasp. between the look on your face and how tight you are eunseok is already close to losing it.

“you got it.” eunseok says encouragingly. 

he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from groaning as you slowly sink down on him. he offers his hands for support and you take them instantly, holding them firmly. 

when you take all of him you have to put your hands on his chest to collect yourself. you feel so full, even with the condom on you can still feel his veins pulsing against you. you try to move but you gasp instead. you still have to adjust to his size.

“take your time.” eunseok says. 

you nod before raising your hips slightly and dropping down. even though you didn’t raise yourself all the way up eunseok is still shaking underneath you, summoning all of his self control to not cum then and there.

“so deep.” you whine.

“i know. i know.” eunseok whines with you.

eunseok looks into your eyes as you continue to bounce on him. you plant your feet on the bed to get more mobility and eunseok has to close his eyes for a second. it’s all so overwhelming, seeing you on top of him chase your pleasure.

“your dick is so nice.” you moan.

“your pussy is tight and perfect.” eunseok says.

eunseok finally opens his eyes again as you come back down on him.he concludes that he will never get used to this view, your chest bouncing in tandem with your hips. he kneads your chest with one hand and puts his other hand on your lower stomach. you can’t help but moan at the contact. in this state, eunseok touching you is like gasoline and the flint. you are about to explode on top of him his voice sounds far off as he speaks, to focused on your body. his eyes flicker between you and your hips, mesmerized by how you take him completely each time.

“you gonna let me hit it every competition, baby?” eunseok asks.

he starts bucking up into you in between you sinking down on him. eunseok holds onto your ankle to help stabilize the both of you. he grunts with each thrust, skin against skin fills your room.

“if you ask nicely.” you moan.

you didn’t completely give up trying to be dominant. having eunseok fuck you into submission was something you needed carnally, though. you imagined future debates of him sneaking into your room and whittling down his dominance until he was begging you for relief. you had to hold back a loud cry by biting your lip.

“lets go all the way to the finals then.” eunseok laughs. 

you can’t say anything without moaning so you just nod your head rapidly. eunseok brings his upper body up to meet yours, bringing you into an embrace. you keep your hips fixed in place so eunseok can fuck into you with vigor. the new angle makes him hit deep inside of you, so deep that you scratch his back in surprise.

“oh my god.” you whimper.

“i know, i know. you gonna cum for me again, right?”

eunseok goes back to kissing your neck. he uses his strength to guide your hips into his. you’re losing yourself in him again, feeling that euphoria hurtle towards you.

“i am. i am.” you whine. 

you can’t stay still any longer, beginning to bounce on him again. eunseok looks up from your sweaty chest and harshly guides you up and down on his pulsing dick.

“i’m close too baby.” eunseok groans.

the sound of slapping skin is ceased as you both cum at the same time. you clench around eunseok’s dick, milking him for all he’s worth. eunseok can feel himself empty into his condom, moaning your name for everyone in the hall to hear. you pull him into a hug, his face pressing into your chest. eunseok squeezes you back. you both unknowingly match heartbeats and breathing tempo as you come down. you still hold on to the other, refusing to let go.

after the heat of the moment died down, you two are left with eunseok’s confession. you have one of your own you want to share, but the thought of revealing something so intimate while you don’t have any clothes on and while eunseok’s dick is still inside of you is mortifying. so you look down at eunseok hoping that he will tell you a joke to break the tension. when you look down you can see the cum leaking from his condom and dripping on the bed. you feel dizzy at the sight.

you don’t let the situation linger for too long before getting up from eunseok’s bed. he stays in the sitting up position. he ties off the condom as he watches you move through his room, putting your clothes on.

“stay a little longer? wonbin found a way to make the vending machine give us extra snacks.” eunseok says.

you ignore him as you pull your panties up, giving eunseok a full view of you bent over. eunseok prays that you let him see you like that next debate. since he knows you won’t say anything back to him he settles for watching you move across his room like a dream. 

you get dressed unbelievably fast, not looking back at eunseok on the bed. if you look back again you’ll be too tempted to stay. so you look towards the door, focused on getting out before you confess too.

eunseok gets up from the bed. he quickly wrapping the towel around his lower half before walking to stand behind you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and turns you around.

“do you mean what you said? about the next debate?” eunseok says.

his heart builds itself up preparing to be disappointed. you were the type to only say things you meant, but eunseok didn’t know if that held true in moments of passion. he is over the moon when you nod your head in confirmation. you saying yes gives him the confidence to keep going.

“and what if we win nationals?”

the open ended questions could garner any response from you, but there’s one eunseok wishes to hear. the thought of winning nationals seems so unrealistic you have to tilt your head and think about what you would do in the hypothetical situation. after mulling it over you laugh and bring a hand to gently tap on eunseok’s cheek.

“if we win nationals i would seriously consider dating you.” you say.

you laugh while saying it, but eunseok takes you seriously. he is silenced as you look through the peephole of his door. you don’t notice eunseok has become frozen as you open his door, walking into the hallway. eunseok isn’t pulled from his state until you awkwardly wave goodbye to him.

“bring your a game tomorrow.” you whisper.

“i will.” eunseok says after you close the door.

he means it completely. eunseok decides then and there that he will get you a gold medal at finals even if it kills him.

[reasonsforhope]

The Surucuá community in the state of Pará is the first to receive an Amazonian Creative Laboratory, a compact mobile biofactory designed to help kick-start the Amazon’s bioeconomy.

Instead of simply harvesting forest-grown crops, traditional communities in the Amazon Rainforest can use the biofactories to process, package and sell bean-to-bar chocolate and similar products at premium prices.

Having a livelihood coming directly from the forest encourages communities to stay there and protect it rather than engaging in harmful economic activities in the Amazon.

The project is in its early stages, but it demonstrates what the Amazon’s bioeconomy could look like: an economic engine that experts estimate could generate at least $8 billion per year.

In a tent in the Surucuá community in the Brazilian Amazonian state of Pará, Jhanne Franco teaches 15 local adults how to make chocolate from scratch using small-scale machines instead of grinding the cacao beans by hand. As a chocolatier from another Amazonian state, Rondônia, Franco isn’t just an expert in cocoa production, but proof that the bean-to-bar concept can work in the Amazon Rainforest.

“[Here] is where we develop students’ ideas,” she says, gesturing to the classroom set up in a clearing in the world’s greatest rainforest. “I’m not here to give them a prescription. I want to teach them why things happen in chocolate making, so they can create their own recipes,” Franco tells Mongabay.

The training program is part of a concept developed by the nonprofit Amazônia 4.0 Institute, designed to protect the Amazon Rainforest. It was conceived in 2017 when two Brazilian scientists, brothers Carlos and Ismael Nobre, started thinking of ways to prevent the Amazon from reaching its impending “tipping point,” when deforestation turns the rainforest into a dry savanna.

Their solution is to build a decentralized bioeconomy rather than seeing the Amazon as a commodity provider for industries elsewhere. Investments would be made in sustainable, forest-grown crops such as cacao, cupuaçu and açaí, rather than cattle and soy, for which vast swaths of the forest have already been cleared. The profits would stay within local communities.

A study by the World Resources Institute (WRI) and the New Climate Economy, published in June 2023, analyzed 13 primary products from the Amazon, including cacao and cupuaçu, and concluded that even this small sample of products could grow the bioeconomy’s GDP by at least $8 billion per year.

To add value to these forest-grown raw materials requires some industrialization, leading to the creation of the Amazonian Creative Laboratories (LCA). These are compact, mobile and sustainable biofactories that incorporate industrial automation and artificial intelligence into the chocolate production process, allowing traditional communities to not only harvest crops, but also process, package and sell the finished products at premium prices.

The logic is simple: without an attractive income, people may be forced to sell or use their land for cattle ranching, soy plantations, or mining. On the other hand, if they can make a living from the forest, they have an incentive to stay there and protect it, becoming the Amazon’s guardians.

“The idea is to translate this biological and cultural wealth into economic activity that’s not exploitative or harmful,” Ismael Nobre tells Mongabay."

-via Mongabay News, January 2, 2024

[theharddeck]

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!) 

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

// 

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep. 

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport. 

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed. 

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts. 

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun. 

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give. 

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.  

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on. 

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died. 

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least. 

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations). 

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower. 

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely. 

“Are you cold?” 

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake. 

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered. 

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault. 

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something. 

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life. 

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched. 

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt. 

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you. 

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same. 

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends. 

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction. 

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you  weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly. 

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer. 

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Again, that quiet chuckle. 

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly. 

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow. 

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”  

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man. 

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation. 

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm. 

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there. 

In bed. 

With you. 

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces. 

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said. 

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again. 

It distracted you for a moment. 

Just a moment. 

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering. 

You tried to be still, you did. 

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised. 

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat. 

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing. 

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep. 

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed. 

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you. 

“Can I…?” he trailed off. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.   

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth. 

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow. 

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity. 

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond. 

Jake hummed. 

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep. 

You startled awake to the sound of guns. 

Not guns, fireworks. 

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten? 

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly. 

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any. 

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said. 

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a  sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid. 

You took a long breath, starting to explain. 

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.   

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination. 

Just as quickly, he pulled back. 

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was. 

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that. 

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly. 

Of course he was a good kisser. 

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you. 

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold. 

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.  

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed. 

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you. 

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting. 

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck. 

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced, 

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face. 

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger. 

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin. 

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted. 

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing. 

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs. 

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him. 

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg. 

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that. 

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again. 

It shouldn’t be this hot. 

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise. 

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you. 

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching. 

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head. 

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze. 

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge. 

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter. 

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs. 

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well. 

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact. 

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness. 

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something. 

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this. 

“Right,” you said weakly. 

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.  

He kissed your thigh. 

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught. 

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.  

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming. 

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch. 

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different. 

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless. 

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.  

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you. 

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned. 

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice. 

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. 

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set. 

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.  

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair. 

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again. 

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you. 

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more. 

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers. 

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded. 

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow. 

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening. 

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words. 

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body. 

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again. 

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter. 

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming. 

You weren’t cold anymore. 

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter. 

God damn, he was so hot. 

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be. 

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough. 

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again. 

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick. 

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed. 

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. 

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself. 

He was so strong. 

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you. 

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct. 

Fuck, he felt big. 

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head. 

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it. 

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed. 

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers. 

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent. 

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his. 

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out. 

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between  his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours. 

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance. 

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth. 

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him. 

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him. 

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair. 

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication. 

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too. 

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege. 

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly. 

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too. 

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down. 

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs. 

You’d had two orgasms. 

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough. 

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him. 

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it. 

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward. 

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do. 

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you. 

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.  

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed. 

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe. 

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit. 

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you. 

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you. 

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound. 

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal. 

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it. 

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it. 

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding. 

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting. 

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come. 

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you. 

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go. 

You were just as boneless. 

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.  

//

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

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Leona - The Whoopsie Wedding

Prompt: "Accidental" Marriage 6 months later, and I'm still trying to complete this prompt challenge. Otherwise known as "my excuse to write random LeonaxYuu stuff."

“Unca Leona!” 

Leona’s ear twitched in response to the high-pitched shriek. He made an abrupt about-face and lengthened his stride. The slap of sandals against the stone floor behind him made his ear continue its erratic fluttering. 

He had nearly made it to the end of the hall when Kifaji turned the corner in front of him. The old chamberlain’s satisfied grin made a muscle above his eye twitch to the same rhythm as his ear. “Ah, there you are Prince Leona. I was just looking for you. There is a dignitary—” 

The sandal slapping grew louder along with the insistent shrieking. “Unca Leona!” 

“—who wishes to meet you—” 

Leona twisted on his heel without hesitation. Cheka yelped when Leona snatched him out of the air mid-pounce. Throwing his nephew over his shoulder, Leona prowled down the hallway in the opposite direction of Kifaji. “Can’t play replacement for my brother right now. Busy.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk at the startled stutter that escaped Kifaji. “Prince Leona! This is a delicate business relation Crown Prince Falena has—!” 

Cheka giggled and wildly kicked his legs. Leona swallowed a growl and pinned the boy’s flailing legs beneath his forearm. “Were you not one of the people insisting I spend more time with my precious nephew? Falena will understand rescheduling the meeting. He rescheduled an entire assembly to attend a little play at his son’s daycare.” 

The tired sigh behind him was worth the sharp yank of his hair. He knew he couldn’t argue against Leona’s logic—his brother would be over the moon the moment snitched on him. Leona willingly spending time with his nephew? A new national holiday would be created just to celebrate the miracle. 

Checkmate. 

Leona couldn’t stop the new growl that rose after another yank on his hair. He flipped Cheka off his shoulder to sit on his forearm. Cheka—the oblivious brat that he was—squeezed his face between tiny hands and grinned. “Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” 

“What?” Leona impatiently snapped. He shifted Cheka to his sit on his other arm in hopes the brat would release him. It was a temporary solution because Cheka’s sticky fingers were like magnets to his face. “Stop shouting. You have my attention.” 

Cheka hummed. One sandaled foot kicked Leona in the ribs. The lion mask—a smaller version of the one Leona wore with his liongarb—slipped down Cheka’s forehead. “I been lookin’ everywhere for you! Timmy says you ran off to nap, and I says nu uh ‘cause yous a big boy, and big boys don’t take naps!” 

Timmy was as a big a brat as Cheka was. The amount of times Leona suffered through listening to Cheka complain about his friend disagreeing with him were too many for Leona to count even if he cared to keep track. Leona couldn’t say that without Cheka getting all weepy for his friend though. Sade would give him a death glare until he finally went back to Night Raven College if she found out he made Cheka all weepy when he should have been having fun with his bratty friends during the Cloudcalling Festival. 

He also wasn’t about to admit one of those bratty friends had been right. 

“What do you want?” Leona asked with a heavy sigh. Strategically speaking, dealing with Cheka was the lesser of two hassles. Unlike a bunch of sweat-smelling, greedy businessmen, Leona could slip away once Cheka’s extremely tiny attention span waned. He just had to find the right beetle to distract the brat. “I have other things I have to do before returning to school.” 

Cheka pouted. His sticky fingers found the strands of beads hanging from the lion mask on Leona’s head. “You gotta go back? But why?” 

“I’m only here for the festival,” Leona said with the thin patience of already repeating the same sentence several times. “What do you want?” 

The question distracted Cheka from pouting over Leona’s inevitable departure. Cheka pulled on the strand of beads and pointed to one of the doorways ahead of them. “We needs you for a very big thing!” 

Leona heavily sighed. The last thing he wanted was to waste his time with Cheka’s bratty friends. He wasn’t a kid-person no matter what Sade tried to say. He barely had the patience for Falena, the biggest kid he knew. Fortunately, kids were easily distractible. 

Kalim’s and Lilia’s happy greetings when he turned into the open doorframe made that muscle above his eye twitch again. Grim snickered when the only thing preventing Cheka from flipping over Leona’s forearm in excitement was his grip on the bead strand. “Look what the lion cub dragged in.” 

Lilia giggled like the deranged imp he was. The skinny little boy sitting next to him joined his cackling, a pair of small round dark ears flicking from a mop of brownish-red hair. “He certainly does not disappoint! What an excellent sniffer you have!” 

Kalim’s laugh sounded less deranged and more ignorantly happy. The chubbier little boy sitting next to him had a dopey type of smile on his face. “I’ll say! It didn’t even take him five minutes. I can’t even find Jamil that quick!” 

Cheka emitted a happy grumbly noise at the praise. Leona whipped his forearm out from beneath Cheka, making his nephew squawk in surprise, before grabbing him under the armpits. His eyes cut across the room to where Yuu sat on a floor mat with the last of Cheka’s friends, another lion cub dressed in a liongarb costume with strands of beads woven through her braided blonde hair. Neither of them looked up from the pile of beads on the ground in front of them. The lion cub patiently showed Yuu how to string the beads, continuously measuring the length of the strand around Yuu’s wrist. Yuu nodded with an air of unwavering focus. 

Leona ignored the two and turned an unimpressed glower at the others. He flicked his tail at them. “Why am I not surprised none of you stayed at the hotel like I told you to.” 

Kalim laughed, predictably missing the sarcasm in Leona’s voice. “Kifaji came by my suite with an invitation from Cheka after we came back! Jamil was busy packing up everything, so I accepted.” 

“It would be incredibly rude to reject an invitation from nobility,” Lilia added. Leona caught the bright glint in Lilia’s eyes. “As a representative from Briar Valley, I would hate to taint any diplomatic alliances. Malleus would be highly displeased if he didn’t receive future invitations to visit.” 

Leona’s upper lip curled slightly over his teeth. “Like I’d invite the lizard anywhere.” 

That glint became brighter. “Oh ho! Whoever said it would be an invitation from you?” 

Leona’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. If he hadn’t needed Lilia for the Bead Brawl... 

A light tug on his pants made Leona drop Cheka. Cheka landed on the other two boys, who had gathered around Leona’s knees. They squealed and wiggled in a mound of limbs Leona found disturbingly...squishy. Even Leona couldn’t contort into the pretzel positions they did. 

Leona decided to ignore all of them and directed his next question to Yuu. “Did the beauty queen and Jack miss the invitation?” 

Yuu’s eyes barely flicked in his direction, her focus on her current task of stringing beads. “Vil wanted to go soak in the Ivory Springs again before we left. He said it was the least he was owed after the injury he took for you in the Bead Brawl. Jack went with him since he’s been feeling better. He still wanted to see parts of the city even if the festival has kinda died down after the rain.” Yuu glanced up long enough to meet Leona’s gaze. “I made him take three bottles of water with him.” 

Leona grunted. “It’s not my problem if he has another heatstroke. He’s aware of the risks now.” 

Cheka jumping on his leg was the perfect excuse to dismiss Yuu’s unconvinced hum. Leona stiffened when Cheka’s friends grabbed him without hesitation. Was that snot dripping out of the chubbier one’s nose? 

“Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” Cheka demanded. “You gotta play with me!” 

Leona bristled at the command. Kalim’s cheery laugh was the only thing preventing him from punting Cheka and his friends across the room. “Cheka told us only you could play the role in the game he wants to play because it’s one of the most important roles. He wouldn’t even let Vil fill in before he left!” 

“’Cause only Unca Leona can do it!” Cheka insisted. He twisted away from Leona and ran across the room, taking his friends with him. “Unca Leona is leader of the Sunset Warriors! Timmy! Pupa! Come stand here!” 

Leona ignored Cheka haughtily commanding his friends in favor of imagining Vil’s reaction to Cheka’s logic. He almost wished he had been there to see the offended huffing. Leona could imagine that was why Vil had chosen another trip to the Ivory Springs as opposed to an opportunity of running into the rest of Leona’s family at the palace. 

A tug on his fingers made Leona glance down at the little girl. She stared up at him with narrowed blue eyes. Leona narrowed his eyes back down at her. She barely stood taller than his knee, yet she had already mastered the same judgmental stare Sade gave him when he skipped “important” family activities. 

Her glare never wavering, she held out one of the beaded bracelets she and Yuu made. “Take this” 

Leona’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t immediately obey her command. “Why should I?” 

A jab to the back of his ribs made him turn his glower on Yuu. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “She’s not asking you to eat a cactus. You can accept a gift without pretending you’re offended.” 

“A gift?” Leona questioned. The girl tugged on his fingers again, and he fought the urge to snatch his hand from her grasp. "Being told to accept something doesn’t sound like a gift.” 

“It’s not a gift,” the girl confirmed. She yanked on one finger hard enough for Leona to feel the hollow pop of a joint. Her tail angrily swished behind her when he conveyed his displeasure with a muted growl. “You gotta take it to give to her.” 

Leona frowned. He shot Yuu a suspicious glare, but she only shrugged. She held up the bracelet she made and gave it a little shake. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got my bracelet.” 

The little lioness emitted an annoyed huff. “That’s not yours either! Come on. Cheka! We’re ready.” 

Cheka jumped at the sudden shout. He ran back across the room to grab a patterned throw blanket draped over a bench. He climbed up on the bench and threw his shoulders back. Timmy and Pupa ran over to stand on the right side of the bench. Without receiving any instructions, Kalim, Lilia, and Grim moved to stand on the opposite side. Kalim grinned widely at Leona while Lilia softly snickered into his hand. 

Grim put his paws on his hips. “Let’s get this thing over with. I wanna go grab some more food from the festival stalls before they pack everything up!” 

Cheka solemnly nodded at the girl. “Bring Unca Leona and Ms. Yuu to me, Zahara.” 

Zahara slipped between them to grasp their hands, dragging them forward behind her. Leona loudly sighed and questioned his earlier decision to avoid Kifaji. There was no escaping Cheka with the others here. Especially the prefect, who jabbed his ribs again when he when he didn’t budge from Zahara’s tugging. “Just play along.” 

It was Leona’s turn to roll his eyes towards the ceiling. He stood his ground for about half a second—finding the little girl’s impatient grunting to be amusing—before another jab forced him to “play along.” By the time Zahara presented them to Cheka, his nephew had already become distracted with adjusting the throw blanket over him like a robe. A polite cough from Lilia snapped Cheka’s attention back to them. “Oh, right! Estimated peoples! We came here today to, uh, join the macaronis!” 

“Macaronis?” Timmy—or Pupa, Leona honestly didn’t know which of Cheka’s friends was which, but it was the scrawny looking one—repeated. His head bobbed around in a way that reminded Leona of a meerkat peeking out of his tunnel. “What does macaronis gotta do with anything?” 

“It sounds tasty,” Pupa said with the same dopey smile he’d had since Leona arrived. 

“I dunno what the macaronis do,” Cheka said with a shrug. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders again when it slipped. “But that’s what they said.” 

Timmy’s entire face wrinkled. Zahara jabbed his ribs in the same way Yuu had jabbed Leona. “Hush! We’re not done yet.” 

Leona never thought he’d empathize with one of Cheka’s friends, but the exasperated sigh from Timmy had him nodding in agreement. Lilia leaned over and whispered quietly in Cheka’s ear. Cheka’s ear twitched. Leona glared at Lilia when he fell back into his place with a giggle. 

Cheka threw out his hands. “Present the bracelets!” 

Yuu offered her bracelet to Cheka without hesitation. Cheka shook his head. He leaned forward and in a loud whisper said, “You gotta give it to Unca Leona, Ms. Yuu!” 

Leona’s fingers rolled over the beads of the bracelet Zahara had forced onto him. A memory whispered at the back of his thoughts, but Lilia’s giggles and Grim’s bemoaning “Hurry up!” chased it away. Yuu did as Cheka said and offered the bracelet to Leona instead. When Leona didn’t immediately accept it, she gently swung it from the tip of her finger. “Don’t make me put this on you myself.” 

Leona snorted. Deciding the quickest route to escaping all this was to play along, Leona took the bracelet from her. He tossed the other bracelet he held at Yuu, figuring that was his role in this weird game. He smirked when Yuu scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. 

“The bracelets are presented,” Cheka happily exclaimed. He hopped in place on the bench. Leona took a small step forward when Cheka’s bouncing put him perilously close to the edge of the bench (because Sade would chew his ear off if Cheka broke an arm). “Holy macaronis is complete! Now you go whoopsie, and I get a cousin!” 

It was the first time Cheka’s prattling had left Leona completely speechless. His ears twitched from Kalim’s happy applause and Cheka’s friends’ mixed reactions of excitement and childish disgust. Lilia’s giggles had morphed into deranged cackles again. Grim’s head swiveled between them all. “I don’t get it. Is this another weird human thing? ‘Cause last I checked, macaroni was for eating, not...whatever this is.” 

Leona whipped his head towards Yuu. Her expression had completely flattened save for the small wrinkle between her eyebrows. She slowly blinked when Cheka jumped off the bench and tackled her legs. His thin tail swished behind him like an excited dog. “Can you give me a cousin before you leave? I want him to come to my next birthday party!” 

The whispered memory roared to the forefront of Leona’s tangled thoughts. Sade’s stupid friend—the one who had a shotgun wedding last summer. The one Sade kept calling a “whoopsie wedding” because she wasn’t about to sit down and explain to Cheka why everyone kept whispering about a missing baby. Sade had even said the couple exchanged bracelets they had made instead of rings because it was trendy or something equally as stupid. 

The kids—being kids—didn’t notice the new stiffness in the prefect or the shift in Lilia’s cackles. They huddled around Yuu and celebrated with happy cries. Cheka was the first to break away, and then it was like nothing had happened. Cheka took off across the room, and the other three naturally followed, the two boys grabbing an unsuspecting Grim and dragging him along with them. The direbeast sputtered when he was forced to sit between Cheka and Zahara while Timmy and Pupa served them imaginary plates of grilled beetles. 

Kalim was easily pulled into the game, “eating” his pretend beetles with gusto alongside Cheka. Lilia cackled and patted Leona’s elbow. “What an exciting way to end our adventure here! Now, you take care of our dear prefect. I know plenty of young men who will have a thing or two to say if you make too big of a whoopsie." 

An awkward cough from Yuu was the only thing that prevented Leona from snapping at Lilia’s retreating back. She wouldn’t look at him, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “So, uh, that was something. Cheka has such a creative imagination.” 

Leona’s scowl flipped into a wide grin. He flicked his tail in her direction. She jumped when his tail brushed the back of her hand. His grin widened. "Imagination? You were the one who made the bracelet for me. You want me to believe you didn’t understand the significance behind it?” 

Yuu’s head snapped in his direction just as he had anticipated. Her eyes narrowed at him with obvious doubt. “It’s just a bracelet.” 

Leona hummed. He plucked at the larger red beads of his bracelet, feeling the shallow engravings in the glass beads. “I’m shocked you don’t have the Sunset Savanna’s traditions memorized by now. Jack brags about your dedication to learning Twisted Wonderland’s history after every little study session you froshes have.” 

The sunburn Yuu had developed over the last day slightly deepened in hue across her face. “I don’t exactly have the time to memorize every single country’s traditions. I’m the only one responsible enough to clean up all you boys’ messes after all.” 

Leona held back a derisive snort. He saw straight through her attempts to distract him, and he wouldn’t let her divert the embarrassment so easily. “Now I’m hurt. You’ve memorized the magical principles of alchemy but not engagement rituals? If I didn’t know any better, I'd say you were toying with my emotions.” 

“Engagement ritual?” Yuu didn’t sound nearly as scandalized as he would have liked, but where she was able to control her tone, her flush spread unhindered down her neck. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What does a child’s imaginary game have anything to do with engagement rituals?” 

Leona clicked his tongue. He lifted his forearm and twisted his wrist for her to get a good look at his bracelet. The lie unfolded with the same ease as one of Vil’s flimsy little hand fans. “You see the symbol on these red beads? Couples once used the same symbol to proclaim their intentions of courting. If both parties accepted the courting, they’d paint the symbol on their foreheads with the same juice from the baobab fruit used to paint the Prince of Beasts forehead at his birth.” 

Yuu’s eyes remained narrow, but Leona caught the quick flick down to her own bracelet. She lifted her arm a second later and shook it with enough force to make the loose bracelet bounce against her smaller wrist. “All right then. Say I believe you. What’s the green beetle and yellow lion faces on my bracelet meant to symbolize in this so-called courting?” 

Leona barely blinked. “The green beetle is a promise to provide in even the harshest times. It was once said that the Prince of Beasts survived on a diet of insects after he became lost in the wilds beyond the savanna. Hence the symbolism.” He paused until he saw the slight widening of Yuu’s eyes, a subtle sign of her buying his lie. “I’d say the lions are pretty obvious. A promise of strength and protection.” 

That subtle hint of naivety instantly disappeared behind the prefect’s default blank expression. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up to fully meet his gaze. The flush had paled to nothing more than a sunburn again. “Strength and protection, huh? Then shouldn’t the lions be on your bracelet? A promise from me for strength and protection? Because last I checked, it’s a pretty accepted fact that lionesses are tougher on the savanna than you broody, princely lions.” 

Leona sighed. He mimicked her posture, though his added slouch gave a hint of natural conviction. “Strength doesn’t come from just brute power. Wit can outmaneuver a flying fist with the right amount of flexibility and awareness.” 

“You’re so full of crap. Next, you’ll try to tell me a baboon’s ass is the symbol of wisdom around here.” 

Leona chuckled, finding her shift from gullible embarrassment to sharp skepticism amusing. He casually flicked his wrist while at the same time turning away from her. “If you want to be so dismissive of our traditions, I won’t stop you. More sympathy for me—the poor prince so callously rejected by an ignorant proposal. You can be the one to tell the brat he won’t be getting his whoopsie cousin anytime soon.” 

Yuu didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll tell Sade you made Cheka cry for no reason.” 

Leona stopped short and shot her a narrowed glare. He lightly hissed between his teeth. “The guards wouldn’t allow you close enough to speak to Sade even if Kifaji wasn’t the one watching the brat today.” 

Yuu arched one eyebrow. “Did you forget I have her cellphone number to video call Cheka? She’s even told me to text her if you ever gave me trouble.” 

Leona was going to have a chat with his sister-in-law. This was why he had never brought anyone around to visit—even if he had cared to bring anyone from NRC home, giving Falena and Sade direct access to people he associated with? Leona would rather eat vegetables for the rest of his life. 

Still, he couldn’t help but prod at Yuu’s renewed confidence. “And will you be telling her about our whoopsie marriage too?” 

Yuu’s eyelids lightly fluttered. “Well, someone has to confirm if Cheka has the authority to officiate a marriage, being a recognized prince and all.” 

Leona snorted and left when he caught Lilia shooting a wide grin in his direction. He wasn’t about to be stuck playing pretend with Cheka and his friends because the prefect thought she could use the threat of Sade to manipulate him. It was worth the risk of running into Kifaji again and being dragged to a boring, business luncheon. He could handle a slime-ball businessman; he wasn’t about to sit around here and lick the air pretending it was a grub soup with Lilia giggling on the side. 

A few days later, with the Cloudcalling Festival behind them, Leona pointedly ignored the bracelet Yuu continued to wear to classes and pretended the matching bracelet wasn’t stashed away in a drawer of his desk where even Ruggie wouldn’t find it.