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eoieopda · 3 months ago

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FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept.

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose proximity to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant.

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be.

So, he bites his tongue.

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones.

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis.

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various surfaces the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.”

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history.

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely.

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too.

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

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lionleonora · 4 months ago

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are you a lover of cult classic rpg, Disco Elysium? do you find Kim Kitsuragi and Harry DuBois’s relationship fascinating and moving? do you miss an era of greater popularity for DE? then i present to you…

Kim Kitsuragi/Harry DuBois Fanfic Recommendations for the Despairing Disco Elysium Fan!

i love disco + kim/harry fics, but like many of you, i have read the classics many times over. thus, i have compiled a list of non-classic, hopefully unknown to you kimharry fics that i personally love and that may pique your interest. organized in order of least to most hits. enjoy!

palewalker by chernobylslug - this is the only incomplete work on this list. at 744 hits, i feel it flies far under the radar! the prose is lovely and the premise is unique, with Harry being the vampire this time instead of Kim. i would be surprised if it were ever updated again (it’s been a year since it was posted) but it’s always a possibility, and certainly worth a read! rated E, but no smut as of yet.

Hunger by PositivelyVexed - another super underrated vampire fic, this time with vampire Kim. it has some of the best mutual attraction/pining i’ve seen—what i love about kim and harry is that they are two societally ugly men who are absolutely feral with lust + respect for each other, and this fic executes that incredibly well. rated M, which people interpret differently. here, it means that the smut is strongly implied, but never outright described.

Canid Instinct by twiaerose - rated E, and one of the rare ABO fics in disco fandom spaces. Harry is an omega and Kim is an alpha, which plays more to their personality traits than the other way around, in my opinion. a LOT of mutual pining and some good allegory!

Intricate rituals by randomisedmongoose - i can’t believe it’s been a year since this was posted…it feels like just yesterday that it had 50 likes and was on the first page of kim/harry fics! amazing exploration of kink, disability, trauma, and mutual attraction. very much worth the read. rated E!

Objects of desire by OrangeGaytor - alright, this is technically not kim/harry, but it’s close enough. very funny and surprisingly sexy, though not to the degree that smut fics usually are. a quick, funny E!

Stress relief by nevermindgrantaire - we’re getting into the territory of more well-known but not fandom classics; but i still think this one is underrated. an amazing depiction of kim, and some of the funniest depictions of the skills as well. and of course, mutual lust and attempts to curb that lust. this will be a theme for me. rated E!

Ham Sandwich by itsGERALD - CRAZY TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS ONE! that being said, this is one of the most innovative vamp fics i have ever read, and fits the gritty and ultimately disgusting world of kim and harry so well. if you can stomach the gore (which even i sometimes can’t!) it is absolutely worth the read. i think it should be a classic, but that’s just me. rated E.

The Personals Section by itsGERALD - some fandom members have (rightly) complained that many fan depictions of harry are sober, hot, and clean in order to get past the nasty stuff. this fic proves that you can have a hot romance while staying true to the fucked-up person that harry is. and boy, is harry and kim’s relationship weird - weird but good. my favorite of itsGERALD’s, and rated E.

The Erotic Adventures of Raphael Ambrosius Coustea by trr_rr - i also strongly feel this one should be a classic, and am kind of shocked it’s not. a funny and again, surprisingly hot crack fic about harry’s fantasies of getting dominated by kim. something revealing and bare about reading something so self-indulgent for “raphael”! rated E.

Shaving by itsGERALD - another great, quick PWP. they are desperate for each other! rated E.

The Gentleman Caller by ISKANDER_TM, Laura Kaye (laurakaye), Refrigerabo - this is the only multi-chapter fic on this list, and also has by far the most hits. however, multi-chapter fics usually get more hits as they’re updated, and i feel that proportionally, it is at the same level of popularity that the oneshots have been so far. this is a great vampire fic (sue me) and has my favorite trope ever: having sex WHILE pining. rated E, 8 chapters and around 50,000 words.

Bonus: Author Recommendations!

itsGERALD has been mentioned a few times here—they are one of my favorite authors in the DE fandom, and i think every fic they wrote is worth at least one read-through, if not multiple. they have 26 DE works in total and are incredibly talented, insightful, and creative. to me, they are a classic author!

nevermindgrantaire has some of my favorite underrated works. their whole series SHIVERS is worth checking out (a continuation of Stress relief!) and they have tons of other juicy fics in the DE space - 16 in total.

PositivelyVexed has written at least one of your fandom favorites. you’ve seen their popular stuff, so go check out their whole library - i promise it’s worth it!

if you’re still here, thanks for reading! these obviously aren’t NICHE or UNDERGROUND but i think they are underrated and not classics. i’m sure i’m not the only one who gets tired of sorting by kudos and then skipping a whole two pages when i’m looking for new fics. hopefully this was a good way to circumvent this! either way, i loved doing this. thanks for sticking around!

#disco elysium #kimharry #harrykim #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #fanfiction #fic rec #ao3 #de #disco #txt from mi #positivelyvexed #nevermindgrantaire #itsGERALD #if this gets no likes no worries! i really enjoyed doing it #<3

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helioscopepdx · 23 days ago

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The Schweizer Guide to Spotting Tangents

A fantastic resource from friend-of-the-studio @schweizercomics, who wrote this guide back in 2011. Read on for a goldmine of information (and visual examples) about avoiding tangents in your work!

Comic art is, as a general rule, a line-based medium. I know, I know, there are plenty of artists whose work is painted, or who depict their subject in ink using solely light and shadow. But these folks are unquestioningly in the minority, as the history of printing technology originally dictated the use of line to depict form in the early days of comics. This became a stylistic expectation, and it’s an expectation that I enthusiastically embrace, as have many others. But using line to draw the world invites chances for that cardinal sin of composition: the tangent.

A tangent is when two or more lines interact in a way that insinuates a relationship between them that the artist did not intend. It can create confusion on the part of the audience as to what it is that they’re looking at. It can cause the spatial depth that one attempts to cultivate through the use of planes to become flattened. Most of all, it creates a decidedly unwelcome aesthetic response: tangents are just plain ugly. There are a lot of different types of tangents, as least according to the way I define them. In order to make it easier on my students when giving critiques, I’ve categorized them and named them. This may have been done before, but I’ve not encountered it. My hope is that, by making this “spot-the-enemy” guide, fewer artists will fall into the tangent trap by knowing what to look for.

1. The Long Line

The long line is when a line from one object runs directly into the line of another. This is the tangent that everybody knows. The one that’s easiest to spot, easiest to avoid. For a lot of folks, this is the only thing meant when one refers to a “tangent.” Even in the work of the very best comic artists, a vigilant eye can find the occasional tangent. Even when a cartoonist is constantly on the lookout, a tangent can slip through. But, as each of strive to better ourselves and the quality of our work and our medium,

2. The Parallel

The parallel tangent is when the containing lines of two objects run alongside each other. This causes one of two negative outcomes. Either one object becomes “lost,” as the other overpowers it (figure 1), or one object feels strangely contained by another (figure 2). This can be avoided by ensuring that any object that COULD run alongside another is angled at least 45 degrees from the first. The next two are REALLY tough to spot, and most artists have fallen victim to them before.

3. The Corner

The corner tangent is when two lines in an object meet in a way intended by the artist, but another (accidental) line runs directly into the place where they meet.

4. The Bump-Up

A bump-up tangent is when the containing line of one object “bumps up” against the containing line of another object. When these two lines touch, it creates a bump-up tangent (and even when they don’t technically touch, if it’s close enough to raise eyebrows, they might as well). The bump-up gives the impression of containment. In figure 1, it seems as though her ponytail is physically unable to enter the space occupied by the pole. In figure 2, it feels as though her elbow is unable to LEAVE that space.

Also, be careful not to let elements of the drawing bump up against your panel borders! Either give them room to breathe or decisively crop them.

5. The Directional

A directional tangent is basically just a long-line tangent that’s been broken by empty space. Now, this one isn’t always bad – it can, on occasion, be used to draw the reader’s eye through the image on a specifically determined path.

6. The Panel-to-Panel

This one is exactly the same thing as the directional (in fact, I shouldn’t even classify it as its own thing), save that instead of empty space dividing a long-line it’s a panel gutter. My gutters are crazy wide, but with normal-sized gutters this can be a real problem. One more thing… This ain’t a tangent, but it is a compositional no-no.

Fake Panels

Comics generally have panel borders, so readers are used to having images contained by straight lines. Some artists don’t allow gutters between their borders. Though I believe that, as a rule, this can make it harder for new comics readers to follow the story (and new readers are always important), it’s done with enough regularity that we must expect the audience to feel comfortable with gutterless pages. What does this mean? It means that we can’t draw a straight line in any panel, either vertical or horizontal, without having some object overlap it. If we do, readers may think that it is a panel border, incorrectly breaking one moment into two.

See how the overlap of the elbow causes there to be no question?

That's it for Lesson #1!

#chris schwiezer #making comics #tangents #how to make comics #friend of the studio #comics #tangent #drawing #how to draw comics #craft

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paper-mario-wiki · 1 year ago

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It only recently occurred to me that the Garden of Eden Creation Kits, or G.E.C.K. devices in Fallout, stand as a karmic opposite to the symbol of the nuclear bomb.

The nuclear bomb is effective as a weapon is a two stage attack. First there's the boom. An invention the size of a small car, in a flash so short you wouldn't even be able to think about it before being vaporized if you were anywhere within 2 miles of where it was, and you'd be lucky to live longer than 10 minutes if you weren't at least 10 miles away. An unstoppable, unhaltable fire that burns hot enough to vaporize anything even remotely alive instantly, and it's the size of a city before you have enough time to say "oh my god look at that". And then, after this devastating, all consuming flame goes out, the decay left over from that little drop of metal leaves the earth, the water, the sky, and all other physical domains completely uninhabitable for YEARS. It instantly creates a domain so remarkably dangerous that it becomes a global landmark. I'd say that it is only slightly hyperbolic in a cheesey poetic way that what a nuclear bomb does is create the closest thing to literal hell on earth that humans are currently capable (whether by scientific limitation, or by moral unwillingness) of creating.

On the other hand, the G.E.C.K., a sleek silver briefcase the size of a 2005 laptop, acts as a compact seed to create a stable, healthy environment, with enough power in a hyper-dense coal fusion battery to power a city. A succinct utopia in a box. In early depictions this was described as hyper resilient seeds, chemical mixtures to create viable soil, instructions for how to disassemble and reuse shelters to become extremely resilient and powerful new world places of safety, as well as vast documents on the details and assembly of advanced and highly efficient technologies like force fields. In later games, it was increased to something of a mythical item, capable of literally terraforming miles of earth down to the molecular level to be safe for habitation, as well as the ability to replicate anything you might need in terms of rations or supplies. In its own way, it is mankind's best attempt (at least in the Fallout universe) to create a massive-scale utopia in as small of a box, that creates as close to a heaven on earth, as possible. And it's even got a biblical tie-in right in the name. I think that's very fitting.

#text #random thought #fallout

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forestdeath1 · 9 months ago

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness. Sirius Black (and James Potter, with a bit of Remus and Peter too)

Or who is the smartest of the Marauders?

Sirius and James are described multiple times as exceptionally intelligent. They didn’t need help from Remus or Lily to pass their exams. James didn’t envy Sirius for being ahead academically, and Sirius didn’t ask Remus for help. They could handle everything on their own.

For example, McGonagall rarely gives praise without good reason. Here are her words about James (often unfairly depicted as less intelligent than Sirius or Remus) and Sirius:

‘Precisely,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –’

Being "exceptionally bright" is an extremely high praise for intellectual ability from McGonagall.

As for Peter, she speaks rather average of him:

‘Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now...’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

Moreover, Peter "was always hopeless at duelling," according to McGonagall. This means that over 7 years, Peter failed to impress McGonagall with his academic achievements. As the head of his house, she was aware of all his grades. Perhaps he was just an average student, but then it's unclear why McGonagall was "often rather sharp with him." She doesn't seem like the type to be sharp over trivial matters.

Slughorn:

‘Well, anyway, he (Sirius) was a big pal of your father’s at school. The whole Black family had been in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.’

While Lupin’s words might be biased, he often speaks quite judiciously about people around him, thus:

"Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

He confirms that Sirius and James were the best at everything in school. Meaning academically first of all, because school is primarily about studying.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it."

And a bit more praise from Lupin towards Sirius and James' giftedness. They were both gifted – Sirius and James.

Even Dumbledore acknowledges:

‘Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi last night,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘An extraordinary achievement – not least, keeping it quiet from me.’

So, not only did they become Animagi (Peter wasn’t much help, according to Lupin), created the Marauder's Map, which contained very unusual magic (they, of course, all created the Map together, but based on the description above, I can assume that the main magical component of the map was the responsibility of James and Sirius), excelled in their studies, created a magical FaceTime – an artefact for communication among themselves, they also managed to keep a lot from the school's headmaster and other teachers. Intelligence plus cunning.

Sirius and James' reaction to others' "stupidity":

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin.

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I’ll be surprised if I don’t get “Outstanding” on it at least.’

‘Me too,’ said James.

Here, I don’t want to dwell on their rudeness, but rather on the reaction itself. Often Lupin is seen studying more than anyone (I too like to see him buried in books), but perhaps Lupin simply needed to study more to pass his exams. He buried himself in textbooks not because he was the smartest, but because it was necessary for him. Remus is clearly not dumb; he became a professor at Hogwarts, he’s also described as intelligent in the canon, but things came much easier to James and Sirius, and they were well aware of how smart they were. Hence their reaction. When a teenager is confident in their superiority, and their intellect is often validated by external factors (grades, teachers' praise), such a reaction from James and Sirius, considering their personalities, is quite expected for their still maturing characters.

‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here...’ and he (Lupin) held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

Sirius' reaction is unequivocal. He doesn’t need to read anything like Lupin, memorising paragraphs. To him, it’s all "rubbish" that he already knows. Sirius likely had a very good long-term memory.

Sirius' memory and attention to detail even after 12 years in Azkaban are also quite remarkable.

"Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –"

‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.

Clearly, during his 12 years in Azkaban, he didn’t need this knowledge. It’s unlikely he ever used this knowledge in practice. But he remembered it, ready to mention it right away, not having peeked in any books. Even Hermione didn’t know.

‘My God,’ said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again.

‘His front paw...’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Black.

And this is about his attentiveness. To notice that a rat is missing a toe from a small photograph while sitting in Azkaban… I wouldn’t have noticed even without Azkaban.

As for adult Sirius, the fourth book shows many of Sirius' reasonable assumptions that eventually are confirmed. What people mistake for stupidity is his recklessness, as well as his willingness to die for those he loves, to protect them at any cost. His recklessness is usually related to this.

‘The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –’

‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ said Sirius. There was a short pause.

‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.

‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning even more broadly.

‘The Hog’s Head, I ask you.’

‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That’s always packed with people –’

‘Which means you’d have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.’

Hermione is very smart, but Sirius immediately explains their tactical mistake. But it still sounds somewhat condescending.

‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –’ Hermione began.

‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.’

It might seem reckless, but he's right, codes can be cracked. And he really wanted to reply to his godson – it's more about his inability to refuse the only living person he loves now and his desire to protect him.

Sirius repeatedly makes correct deductions in the fourth book, here are a couple of examples, but generally, the fourth book is full of rational remarks, assumptions, and overall, he's ready to provide Harry with information, especially in the fifth book, when Harry is having the toughest time and most people simply refuse to tell him anything.

‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’

‘Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.

‘So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –’

‘Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –’

‘You and the rest of the world,’ said Harry bitterly.

‘– and, reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,’ Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, ‘but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.’

And much more.

For Harry in the fourth and fifth books, Sirius became the one who supported him and provided information, and all his attempts to break through to Harry, risking being caught – this is an expression of love and desire to help his godson. It's precisely in such moments that his recklessness is revealed – when he wants to help.

Moreover Sirius often gives Harry good advice, there is just one example:

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin.

‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ ‘And if it’s not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...’

Here's the interweaving of Sirius' rationality and recklessness. He knows the right way. But he himself is ready to throw himself into the line of fire. He never gave Harry impulsive advice. But when it comes to himself or when someone needs protecting, Sirius has a different standard of normalcy.

In conclusion, throughout the series, Sirius makes a number of insightful remarks, and his intelligence and giftedness are exceptionally highly regarded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin. I wouldn’t attribute his pathological desire to help those he loves to stupidity. Furthermore, adult Sirius shows recklessness mainly when it concerns his own safety and life — he doesn't cherish his own life if it means the well-being of someone he loves, thus he readily throws himself into danger.

Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. (Dumbledore)

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #the marauders meta #hp meta #sirius black meta #peter pettigrew

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mint-yooxgi · 10 months ago

Text

{6} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader - Final

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 16,687

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

The village is eerily quiet. Not a single lamp is lit, nor even a breeze drifts through the dark stillness of the night as a singular shadow creeps through the streets. It’s almost as if the inhabitants no longer reside in the town as they all rest in their beds, unaware of the raging storm that approaches with every step.

Mingi’s resolve is deadly calm. That red sash covers his forehead, tying his hair back to keep it out of his face for what he prepares to do.

He left you back in his realm, nestled up under that tree by the spring. Sure, he may have stretched the truth a little bit about the tea, but he didn’t want you waking up while he was gone. At least he knows this way you’ll also sleep through the night, his glamour that he left on you protecting you from prying eyes.

There is no limit to his fury, sharp eyes blazing beneath the light of the moon as he stalks through the town centre. He’s always been good at tracking, and he makes sure to put his skills to good use this night as his gaze zeros in on the large house on top of the hill.

You were right, this is quite a small town. No more than about sixty inhabitants. Surprisingly, no children. A fact which will only make his job here much easier.

Stealth is his top priority right now as he covers ground with each step, plotting out every escape route and figuring out how best to bottleneck his prey into his awaiting trap.

As the moon crests high in the sky, a true monster gets unleashed.

Shrill screams of pure terror fill the air as claws render flesh from bone. Blood splatters against walls, painting the night in crimson florals, the heavy stench of death permeating the air. No matter how desperately they plead for their lives, none survive, and by the time Mingi makes it up the hill, he is covered in viscera from his brutal kills.

The most satisfying death, he saves for last.

Mingi knows the man can hear him coming. The shrieks from the town down below would’ve reached his ears by now, filling him with a sense of dread. There is no escaping the hunt, and your husband is about to find out what it truly means to be reduced to absolutely nothing.

The sound of the door shattering as it gets kicked in causes the already pertinent fear Mingi can smell radiating through the house spike. The man cowers pathetically in his room, the exits having long since been sealed by the fae in preparation for the decimation that is about to take place.

Stepping through the doorway, Mingi stands there, letting the light from the moon illuminate his massive figure. The way the man screams in horror when he sees Mingi’s blood-soaked appearance only causes a malicious grin to pull at the redcap’s lips.

“Found you.” Mingi’s expression is downright maniacal, his eyes glinting wildly in the darkness.

The man cowers back, attempting to push himself further into the wall as Mingi takes a menacing step forward.

“Who sent you?” His voice is frantic, eyes wide with tears as they begin to spill down his face. “What do you want?”

Mingi’s grin stretches wider across his features, his tongue darting out to taste the blood covering his lips. “I’m here to collect on a debt.”

“A debt?” The man frowns, heart rate accelerating in panic.

“You hurt something of mine,” Mingi’s voice is but a low drawl as he stalks towards the shaking man huddled in the corner. “Something very precious to me.”

“Is it money? Money that you want?” The man’s eyes dart every which way around the room, looking for a possible exit. “I can give you all the riches you desire-“

“Stupid human.” Mingi hisses. “As if money could ever pay for the life you stole.”

There is no escape. Not now. Not ever. Especially not for this coward.

“What are you-“ Confusion tugs at the man’s brow for a brief moment before realization is settling over his features. “That bitch! She sent you!”

In the blink of an eye, Mingi has him pinned against the wall by the throat. The force at with he pins the man causes cracks to appear in the plaster, chunks falling to the ground in a rain of dust.

“Speak of her like that again, and I will ensure to draw this out for as long as possible.” The words are but a low growl on Mingi’s lips, claws digging into the skin of the man’s throat.

Desperately, the man begins to struggle. His hands attempt to tear Mingi’s own from his throat, clawing at the fae uselessly as his legs kick in the air.

“What did that whore promise you?” The man chokes out, struggling for breath. “One round with that cunt and you’re ready to kill for her?”

Mingi snarls, tightening his grip over the man’s throat as his vile blood begins to coat his hands.

“I bet she’s making you work for it. That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it?” The man taunts, blood beginning to spill from his lips as Mingi nearly slams him through the wall a second time. “Stupid fucking whore was the easiest lay I ever had in my life. I feel bad for you. She normally spreads her legs for any man-“

“I am not a man.”

The words are spat out harshly, Mingi throwing the man behind him onto the floor. A satisfying crack echoes throughout the room, and the man cradles his one wrist to his chest, whimpering pathetically.

A wild grin stretches across blood red lips, eyes crazed as Mingi looks at the human from over his shoulder.

“Run, little rabbit,” Mingi’s voice drawls lowly, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “The beast wants to play.”

Without hesitating, the man scrambles to his feet, darting out of the open door of his room. Mingi can hear his laboured breathing as he nearly trips down the stairs, and the fae cannot help but laugh.

Little does this human know what Mingi has in store for him.

Slowly, Mingi begins creeping out of the room, and down the stairs. Once he reaches the bottom, he tears a wooden post from the banister, snapping it near the tip. He tests the point against the pad of his thumb, humming to himself as he stalks outside.

Desperately, the man scrambles to get away, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

Spinning that pole in his hand, Mingi reels back. The rod strikes like lighting through the air, hitting its intended target and causing the man to go tumbling the rest of the way down the hill.

An ominous hum is all the man hears approaching him as he attempts to crawl away. His hands tear through the dirt, uprooting the grass as he tries, and fails, to pull himself towards the edge of the woods and to a false sense of safety.

A sharp cry of pain rings out through the night air as Mingi steps on the back of the man’s calf, right where that wooden bannister now protrudes.

“And here I thought you would put up more of a fight,” Mingi hums, almost disappointedly. “Pathetic.”

A satisfying snap echoes through his ears, and the man shrieks as his tibia breaks from the force of Mingi’s full weight stepping onto it.

“I suppose we won’t need this anymore,” Mingi say lowly, tearing the wooden post from the man’s shin and snapping it in further half.

Another scream pierces the air as the man’s hands get pinned to the earth using each half of the now split banister. His legs uselessly kick out behind him, stuck flat against the ground on his stomach as whimpers and pleas to spare his life fall on deaf ears.

Reaching down, Mingi tears open the back of the man’s shirt, exposing his bare flesh. A sick, twisted grin cuts itself onto his features as he runs a clawed hand over the unmarred skin, and he feels the man shudder in terror beneath him.

“What are you-“

A sharp cry of pain causes the man to cut his words short. Mingi, having stood back to his full height, snapped the man’s other ankle, crushing it with his foot.

For a frightening long moment, all is silent. Not even the trees sway with a breeze, nor does a single creature make a sound. The weight disappears from the man’s foot, and the ominous chill that creeps down his spine only makes waiting to see what happens to him next all the more horrible. All that can be heard are the man’s desperate and miserable whimpers, begging to be set free.

A sharp snapping sound, like thin leather suddenly being pulled taunt, silences the man’s pleas. Cold, dreaded realization settles deep within his core, and he begins thrashing violently at the fae’s feet.

The world stops.

“For My Beloved Blossom.”

The sharp crack of the whip slices through the air.

Once.

Twice.

As many times as it takes until Mingi is satisfied.

Flesh renders from bone, blood splattering the once green earth bright red, and splattering all over his face. His features are schooled into a look of pure concentration, anger radiating off of him in waves as he finally shreds this disgusting excuse of a creature apart.

The stench of blood fills his burning lungs, pieces of bone chipping amongst the torn flesh with every strike. Chunks of skin cover his face, his hair stained red as he revels in the horrific shrieks of his mutilated prey.

Still, Mingi does not stop.

Only when the man’s entire spine is visible does Mingi toss aside the whip and switch to his bare hands. He knows the bastard is already dead, but that does not stop Mingi from tearing out his spine, or ripping him limb from disgusting limb.

Nothing is too much right now, and even in death, Mingi does not want this man to find peace.

He hurt you, and for that, he must pay. They all must pay.

Bathing his sash in the blood of his kills has never felt so satisfying in his entire life. He takes his time, moving through the village to soak the strip of cloth in each of his victim’s remains, humming lightly to himself as he does so. Mingi purposely both starts and ends with that bastard, dipping his cloth through what’s left of the man’s scattered remains before setting the whole place on fire.

As the flames blaze brightly in the early hours of the morning, Mingi has one final stop to make.

The glow of the raging inferno behind him is nothing more than a spec in the distance as he comes across an empty field. Fireweed covers the vast expanse of land, some patches of earth still charred from the blaze that stole your happiness from you some time ago.

Softly, his gaze scans the area, walking through the weeds now growing through what once was a beautiful field of your favourite flowers. His eyes catch on a single stem growing through the ash, and his breath catches in his throat.

The sun begins to rise.

Falling to his knees, Mingi stares down at the lone red spider lily that blooms almost defiantly within that field of wreckage.

A single teardrop falls to the earth, wetting the soil just beside the flower. It is followed by another, and then another, until the tracks cut lines into the blood staining his face.

Ever so gently, Mingi begins to dig. Dirt coats his fingers, getting stuck beneath his nails as he carefully pulls that plant from the earth. He cradles the root bulb in his hands tenderly, smiling softly down at the flower which now holds so much meaning to him, too.

Turning back to face the woods, Mingi begins the short journey back to you. Back to his home.

***

The light of the early morning sun peeks through the leaves of the trees around you. Warmth pools over your skin with every shifting beam, the gentle sway of the breeze caressing your entire body. The sound of birds chirping fill the skies, and you can faintly hear a gentle hum from the wildlife resting nearby.

Slowly, the environment begins to rouse you, the scents and sounds of the early morning calling you back from sleep’s warm embrace. Your one hand holds onto that stem of spider lilies, and you curl in closer to yourself. Only, something feels different.

Blinking your eyes open, you rub lightly at your face. A yawn escapes you, and you sit up only to realize what’s been wrong this whole time.

Mingi is missing, and you cannot find him anywhere in your immediate line of sight.

A light frown tugs at your features. Your mind is still heavy with sleep, so it takes you a moment to properly gather your bearings.

Mingi must have just gone off to gather some supplies for the start of your daily journey. He normally has breakfast for the both of you ready by the time you wake up, anyways.

Movement from the bushes off to your right draws your attention. The sound of something approaching you through the woods grows louder, and your heartbeat accelerates. It sounds like it’s moving slowly, carefully, almost as if it’s stalking towards you.

Moments later, a large figure steps through the trees covered in blood. A red sash is tied around his forehead, and in his hands rests the most beautiful bloom that you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Mingi!” Your eyes go wide, worry immediately pulling at your features as you scramble to your feet.

Slowly, the fae in question lifts his head. His features are soft, mild concern tugging at his brow as he sees you rushing towards him. He’s well aware of what seeing him covered in blood does to you, and he was hoping to get back before you woke up. He wanted to clean himself off before you saw him like this, but at the way your hands frantically run over his chest and up to his neck, he knows that in this moment, you’re not scared of him.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your voice is still lined with sleep, but the panic comes through loud and clear. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Blossom.” He says gently, a tender smile pulling at his lips as he looks down at you. “I was hoping to be back before you rose.”

“Mingi,” your eyes search his face, trailing over the blood and chunks of flesh clinging to his skin and embedded in his hair. “What happened?”

Shifting the flower he holds to rest in one hand, he tentatively reaches towards you. Hesitantly, the tips of his fingers caress the curve of your cheek as he stares at you with the most satisfied, loving look resting on his features.

“There was some business I had to tend to,” his voice is soft, his eyes searching your own. “A village that needed cleansing.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat inside of your chest. Your gaze trails down to that lone flower resting in his one hand. Only, instead of feeling any sort of fear, or unease, you can only feel relief.

You take a deep breath in, and notice that beneath the stench of iron, Mingi also smells faintly of ash.

“Are you-“ Your voice catches. “Are you hurt?”

A soft chuckle falls from his lips. “As if they could ever hurt me.”

You shoot him a look in return, worry still clear in your eyes.

“No, Blossom,” he smiles, cupping the side of your face gently. “I am not hurt. Please, do not worry about me.”

A light exhale escapes you, and your eyes fall shut. “I’m glad.”

“No longer will any monsters ever haunt you,” his voice is low, and full of the deepest form of sincerity that you’ve ever heard someone speak to you with. “No monster will even hunt you again. I made damn well sure of it.”

Your brow furrows slightly in response, searching his features for an answer hidden beneath all of this gore.

That’s when it hits you. That’s when you fully accept the reality being presented to you.

“There’s nothing left of them, Blossom,” he tells you gently, that same look of undying love and loyalty resting deep within his eyes. “I made sure to burn them all to the ground.”

For a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“They cannot hurt you anymore.”

Your fingers begin to tremble lightly against the skin of his chest, the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes. All you can do in this moment is focus on the fae before you, covered in blood and guts, and all in the name of your honour.

He fought for you.

He punished those who have long since ignored you, beaten you down, and destroyed your sense of self worth.

He turned those that made you feel like you were nothing into nothing themselves, and now, all that is left of them is naught but ash and dust.

Silence stretches on between the both of you as you continue to stare at him.

Mingi is conscious of every movement you make, of every slight hitch in your breath and every twitch of your fingers against his skin. His hand still cups the side of your face, and he worries, for a brief instance, that what he’s admitted to doing has just pushed you further away.

Only, just as he goes to pull his hand away, you lean into his touch.

Despite the dirt, despite the blood, ash, and other viscera that clings to his skin, you turn your head, placing a gentle kiss onto the palm of his hand.

This time, it’s Mingi’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat.

“Come on, Min,” you breathe out, reaching your own hand up to cup his gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taking his hand into yours, you lead him over to the edge of that spring you bathed in together last night.

Turning back to him, a soft smile graces your features. Carefully, you reach out your hands and he immediately places that single spider lily into your palms.

“It was growing-“ he swallows, voice thick with emotions that you understand all too well. “In the field that was burned, it was growing. I- I had to bring it back home to you. For you.”

“For us. For our home.” You glance upwards from the flower to stare into his eyes, and the way you see his expression soften at your words makes you smile. “Thank you, Mingi. Thank you. No one has ever-“ your voice catches slightly, and you blink away your sudden tears. “It truly means a lot.”

“It’s as I’ve said before, Beloved,” His lips tug upwards tenderly in the corners. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

You nod softly, eyes crinkling in joy.

“As terrifying as it is for me to admit,” you breathe, smiling down at that flower in your hands, “I’m starting to believe you.”

A slight grin pulls onto his features, chuckling lowly.

“How happy I am, then, to make you believe.”

You return his soft look, moving to place this flower with the other you left resting by the tree. By the time you turn back around, Mingi has already stripped himself of his soiled clothes and is waist deep in the spring. His back faces you, and you cannot help but to let your eyes roam over the unmarked skin for a moment longer than you probably should.

Swallowing the sudden dryness in your throat, you hurry back over to the edge of the spring. Rolling up your pants to just above your knees, you sit on the rocks lining the mouth of the spring, dipping your feet into the cool water.

Lightly, you kick your legs beneath the surface, causing ripples to form. The way Mingi turns to smile at you, face still covered in blood and grime doesn’t deter you at all. In fact, it only makes your heart skip another beat inside of your chest.

For once, the blood is not your own. There is no monster coming to hurt you, or hunt you down. That blood has been spilt for you, and you cannot deny the relief that floods your veins when you think about it. Not only that, but gratitude.

All of your life you wanted someone to fight for you. To protect you, and bring justice to those that wronged you for so long. Which is exactly why you can only feel elated at the fact that such a ‘monster’ would do something so personal for you.

He cares, and he’s more than proved it.

Too many times you’ve fantasized about taking control of your own life. You wanted the power to make your own decision, and to be able to get back at those who have wronged you. You resented them, and you wanted for them feel even an ounce of the same pain that they made you feel.

They did, and all because of Mingi. Because one other person - a fae, no less - could see, and decided, that you had worth.

Your heart swells in your chest, and you glance that red band laying beside you in the grass. The material is certainly darker than you remember it being last night, and given the colouration, you can tell that the strip of cloth is still wet in certain spots.

You don’t know why, but it makes you smile.

Turning your attention back on the fae in front of you, you motion him closer.

Slowly, Mingi walks over to you. He had been resting with his shoulders beneath the water, so once he stood, small trails of pink droplets had begun to cascade down his chest, mixing with the blood still marring his skin.

Once he’s close enough, you reach out and take his hand.

Wordlessly, you begin to bathe him just as he did with you last night. Your touch is nothing short of tender, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin and from beneath his nails. When you ask, he even unsheathes his claws to show you, and all you can do is marvel at how sharp they are.

A mental image of these claws tearing through the people of your village fills your mind. Though, instead of feeling disgust, or horror at such a gruesome act, you can only feel pride.

These claws are meant for you. They will tear through anyone or anything that threatens your safety, or makes you unhappy. They will always protect you, and never will they be used on you in such gruesome ways. A fact which only warms your heart the more you think about it, settling happily into this moment with Mingi before you.

Once you have finished washing his hands, you move onto his torso, working your way up his body until you reach his head. At this point, he kneels before you, making the reach much easier for you while revelling in the way your fingers thread through his hair.

Small pieces of bone are removed from his blond locks, which are now tinted the faintest shade of red in certain spots from the amount of blood that had covered him. The damp strands are pushed away from his face once you’re done, his sharp eyes staring up at you with nothing but adoration as he watches you clean him up.

Really, Mingi could get used to this. Coming back to you after a hunt is a dream come true, and the idea that you could be doing this with him every time only serves to make his heart race inside of his chest. The fact that he hasn’t scented any fear or unease from you since he’s return makes his whole body come alive, falling even deeper for you with every passing second.

“Okay,” your gentle voice manages to pull him out of his thoughts. “Done.”

Water cascades down the plains of his chest as Mingi stands back to his full height. Droplets cling to the ends of his hair, dripping onto your clothed thighs as he leans into you. An arm rests on either side of your torso, yet, despite his closeness, you do not feel trapped.

“Have I ever told you how incredible you are?” He keeps his tone low, voice rumbling from deep within his chest.

Your eyes shine, glancing up at him through your lashes. You can feel your heart swelling with warmth, and you cannot prevent the way a subtle heat rises to your cheeks.

A hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb languidly stroking over your cheek.

Still, he leans into you.

“I never want you to forget how special you are,” he breathes out, placing his forehead gently against your own. “How special you are to me.”

Your gaze, which had been shyly averted to your lap, lifts back up to meet his own.

“Did you really do it?” The words are naught but a whisper on your lips. “Did you really kill them all for me?”

“None of them deserved to life for a second longer for what they did to you,” his fingers press a little firmer against the skin of your cheek, and he steps closer. “I would do it all over again, too. As many times as it took, until you are satisfied.”

Slowly, carefully, you lift your hands to his face. Your eyes search his own, and nothing but sincerity shines behind his gaze. A fact which only causes the warmth in your chest to grow even further, beginning to spread outwards and all the way down to the very tips of your fingers.

“I care about you, My Blossom,” he repeats these same words to you now, just as earnestly as the first time. “I want to see you thrive, to see you bloom.”

“You… wish to be with me?” Your voice is a little hesitant, unsure of the words you seem to be speaking right now.

“More than anything,” he breathes out, and you can feel his warm breath ghost against the skin of your lips.

“You… want me?” The question is innocent enough, but his response is immediate.

“In any and every single way you’ll let me.” The words are but a low growl on his lips, dark eyes staring deeply into your own.

“You… want to-“ you pause for a moment, steadying your nerves, “belong to me in the same ways you would like for me to belong to you?”

Mingi takes a shuddering breath in, his eyes slipping closed. “Desperately so.”

Your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them.

“Are-“ you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, “Are claims mutual?”

“Yes,” his reply is instantaneous, albeit a little airy. “Claims are-“ his tongue darts out to swipe against his bottom lip, “Claims are meant to be mutual between all parties involved. That’s how they are always intended to be, as they are the most sacred of bonds we can share with another.”

Softly, you nod your head, hands sliding down his cheeks and over his neck to rest on his shoulders. You can feel him shiver beneath your touch, stepping in even closer to you.

“When I say I want to claim you…” his eyes slip closed, revelling in the way your thighs part for him so that he can slot himself between them. “I have always intended, and will always mean for it to be mutual. I do not own you. You are not meant to be my possession. I do, however, desperately wish to be able to call you mine.”

The inhale you take is soft, hands tightening ever so slightly over his shoulders.

A moment passes in silence, letting his words wash over you. There is no doubt in your mind about what you want right now, and the answer is standing right before you, pouring his soul into every word that he speaks.

“Mingi…”

The call of his name is so tender from your lips, that all he can do is hum in response.

“I wish for you to claim me.”

There is no denying the way Mingi’s breath hitches. In fact, you swear he stops breathing completely, his eyes flinging open to stare deeply into your own. Not even a moment later, you can feel his chest beginning to heave with every breath, lips parting as he attempts to control himself for your sake.

“Are you-“ his tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaning the slightest bit further into you. “Are you sure?”

The way that he asks, that he’s making sure that this is something you do want, only serves to warm your heart, and solidify your decision.

You smile, repeating back to him the same words he spoke to you earlier this morning. “More than anything.”

You physically feel the way his heart skips a beat in his chest, the pounding resonating beneath your fingertips. You swear you can also feel him beginning to tremble beneath your touch, both of his hands coming up to cup your face tenderly.

“You do not know how happy you’ve made me, hearing you say that.” He says lowly, tilting his head forward so that your noses brush.

The corners of you lips tug upwards, fingers dancing lightly along his skin.

“Anything you want, everything you desire, is yours.” He whispers, his lips barely brushing over your own.

A small gasp parts your lips, your eyes hooding over as you briefly glance downwards at his own.

“I just want you,” the admission is but a sigh on your lips, wrapping your arms fully around his shoulders as your fingers begin to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You swear a soft moan tumbles from him.

“Then, My Dear Blossom,” he steps impossibly closer. “May I kiss you?”

Your lips quirk upwards, heart swelling with warmth inside of your chest. The fact that he even asked, after everything you’ve been through…

“I would love nothing more.”

Instantly, his lips are on your own. One of his hands slides down the side of your neck, softly tracing over your shoulder and down the curve of your spine. His large hand splays against your lower back, pulling you in closer as he presses himself fully against you.

Water seeps into the material of your clothing, but you don’t care. Not with the way he’s kissing you to lovingly, holding onto you as if you are the most precious thing he has ever had the pleasure to experience in his life.

From the way you can feel his fingers trembling lightly, his cock twitching against the skin of your thigh, you know that to him, you are.

His touch is gentle as he moves his lips over your own, your hands tangling in his locks to pull him in even closer. Yet still, he doesn’t push you too hard, easily letting you pull away if need be.

Never does he want you to feel trapped with him. Always, it will be your choice.

Your choice to let him kiss you, to let him touch you.

Your choice to let him claim you, and for you to claim him.

Your choice to be with him, and to let him be with you.

You are his entire world, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you know just that. A fact of which he never wants you to forget.

He parts from you only to begin trailing his lips over your cheekbone and down to your jawline. His nose nuzzles gently over your skin, taking a deep breath in as your scent begins to completely overwhelm him in the best of ways.

Gently, he dips his head lower, placing tender kisses over the side of your neck and directly over your pulse. He can feel the way it flutters against his lips, and he cannot help but smile against your skin.

Taking another deep breath in, Mingi’s eyes flutter closed. A soft moan escapes him, and his free hand comes to settle on your waist, thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt gently.

“I don’t-“ he swallows audibly, “I don’t want to push you too far, Blossom, but I fear that if we continue like this, then I won’t be able to stop myself from acting on my deeper desires.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, and you feel him shudder beneath your fingertips. “What is it that you desire, Min?”

A low groan escapes him, and he presses his face deeper into the side of your neck. “You, completely relaxed, and letting me take care of you like you’ve always deserved.”

Your breath catches lightly in your throat, and you pull him impossibly closer.

“I want to touch every inch of your skin, and show you how beautiful you are to me.” He continues lowly, his lips ghosting along the skin of your neck. “I wish to drown you in an ecstasy you never knew possible until you gave me the honour of pleasing you. I wish to give myself to you fully, and in return, I hope that you will give yourself to me, too.”

His name escapes you as no more than a gasp, expression softening as he pulls away to stare deeply into your eyes.

“I never want to push you too far, or make you uncomfortable. I would rather burn alive than ever take advantage of you like that.” He leans in to rest his forehead on your own once more. “I only want your pleasure, and if at any point you are uncomfortable, or you want to stop, you immediately let me know.”

The emotions that fill your chest overwhelm you, and you cannot help the tightness that you feel building within your throat. Tears well in your eyes, and you find yourself blinking them away rapidly while nodding your head.

You’ve never felt this deeply cared for, nor understood in your life.

“I will,” you manage to swallow the emotions that threaten to choke you out at any second. “I promise.”

Softly, Mingi smiles, leaning forward to peck your lips.

“Likewise, if there’s anything that you want me to do for you, Blossom,” he breathes out lightly. “All you have to do is ask.”

Again, you nod your head in understanding.

“I will never take more than what you are willing to give, and I will never give more than what you are willing to take.” He says gently, his hands sliding down you body to settle along the sides of your thighs as he pulls away to stare down at you. “I love you. I care about you deeply. I never want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

Your heart feels as if it’s about to burst forth from your chest, eyes shining with nothing but pure awe and appreciation. Your hands slide down the front of his chest, settling along his waist as you tug him in closer, wrapping your legs around him while meeting his gaze.

“Mingi,” the call of his name from your lips is so tender, even the birds seem to stop their morning songs to listen. The silence of the clearing seems to swell around you, and you take that final leap, knowing that he will be right there to catch you. “I am in love with you, too.”

Mingi swears that he forgets how to breathe. His heart simply flutters inside of his chest, and tears of his own well in his eyes. A happy laugh escapes him, the smile that pulls at his lips one that is not easily contained.

Leaning into you once more, Mingi presses his lips to your forehead. He lets his touch linger for as long as possible, pouring everything that he wants to say into the press of his skin against your own. He holds you tightly, eyes falling shut as a cascade of happiness spills over his cheeks.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles against your forehead, and not even a second later, he’s littering tender kisses all over your face, repeating the phrase with each one.

Your soft giggle is music to his ears.

The moment Mingi presses his lips to yours, you gladly wrap your arms back around his shoulders. You allow him to set the pace, grateful to be held in his embrace just like all of those times before.

His kiss is soft, taking his time to fully explore your mouth as his tongue moves languidly against yours.

You hum, feeling his hands trail up your thighs and slip beneath the material of your shirt.

A sudden heat rises to your cheeks at the thought that drifts through your mind.

“Mingi,” the gentle call of his name draws his attention, and he pulls away to stare into your eyes. “Can you- uh…” he waits patiently for you to continue, noticing how your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as you rush out the words, “Can you cut me out of my clothes?”

Mingi’s eyes go wide. To say your request catches him off guard would be an understatement.

“They-“ you fidget slightly, hands suddenly pulled back into your lap. “They used to do that whenever they would have their fun, and I don’t want to remember them doing that anymore.”

His one hand comes up to tenderly brush his knuckle over the side of your cheek.

“Do you wish to forget?” He asks softly.

“I’m not doing this to forget,” you shake your head. “I want to replace those bad memories with newer, better ones. I don’t want to think about them cutting off my clothes. I want to think about you.”

It’s slight, and you believe it’s subconscious on his part, but he pulls you in even closer against him. Your body is almost pressed flush against his own, his loving gaze darkening at the implications.

“I will do anything if it means you thinking of me,” he mutters lowly. “Anything to make you happy.”

The hand that had been caressing the side of your cheek slides down to your shoulder. Carefully, he unsheathes his claws, hooking the tips beneath the collar of your shirt. At the way he hears your breathing pick up, he pauses, glancing at your face and noticing how your eyes remain shut for the moment.

Lightly, he tugs at your shirt.

“May I?” His inquiry is so gentle, that you cannot help but blink your eyes open to meet his gaze.

You swallow your nerves.

“Please.” A single nod accompanies your response, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Mingi’s movements are slow, precise. There is no harsh sound of tearing fabric. Instead, he pulls the shirt until it’s taunt with his nail, allowing his claw to cut through the thin material slowly.

The whole time, he maintains eye contact with you. At any sign of hesitance, or discomfort, he vows to stop. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, or push you away.

Your breathing deepens, and within another blink of your eyes, Mingi has managed to cut right through your shirt. His hands settle on your hips, gently sliding upwards as the material parts following the path he takes up your body.

Tingles erupt on your skin as he traces his hands over your shoulders, pushing the now torn fabric gently down your arms. His touch is nothing but soft, his gaze soon following in the same path over your skin as your torso is fully revealed to him.

The sound of your shirt hitting the ground is synonymous with the low moan that escapes him. His eyes flit everywhere over your chest, following the gentle curves of your breasts all the way down to your stomach which he adores. Every scar he sees only adds to the perfection of you before him, baring yourself like this for him to see.

Him, and only him.

“You are absolutely captivating,” he breathes, eyes flitting once more over your torso before darting upwards to meet your gaze. His hands reach out to you, stopping just short of your waist. “Do I-“ he swallows, fingers trembling as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Do I really get to touch such beauty?”

His question, posed so earnestly with wonder shining behind his gaze, makes your breath catch in your throat. Fondness shines in your eyes as you stare up at him, nothing but tender love and affection swirling deep within your chest. His words make your entire body heat, a pleasant feeling erupting beneath your skin as you simply revel in the way he looks at you.

Your legs tighten ever so slightly around his waist, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him pressing right against you. At the way you hum in confirmation to his gentle inquiry, you can feel his cock twitch against your thigh once more. The way he positively beams at your answer only makes you tighten your own grip on him, needing to feel him pressed against you in every way imaginable.

Gently, his hands settle onto your waist, squeezing your flesh appreciatively before tracing his touch over your sides. A low moan escapes him as he brings his hands up to cup your breasts. His thumbs trace over your nipples, the thin fabric still covering you barely doing anything to hide what lies beneath.

A soft moan parts your lips, and you find yourself arching into his touch. Your own hands slide up his sides, nails grazing his flesh lightly and causing a shiver to caress his spine.

Not even a moment later, Mingi hooks a finger through the thin band of fabric between your breasts. One quick tug from him, and the material snaps, the straps sliding down your shoulders almost instantly.

You visibly watch his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares down at your chest. He wastes no time in cupping your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands as he gives them an appreciative squeeze.

“So soft,” he moans, thumbs flicking over your nipples once more before circling over the pert buds. “So perfect.”

At his words, you press yourself further into his touch, soft pants escaping your lips. You can feel tingles erupting all over your skin wherever he touches, and the feeling only serves to make your head spin.

You could get lost in him, and from the way that his eyes shine tenderly down at you, you have a feeling that that’s exactly what he wants you to do.

Trailing your hands upwards, your fingers dance across his chest. The way he shivers beneath your touch has you smiling up at him, purposely dragging your nails over his skin.

“You’re so handsome, Mingi,” you breathe out, taking the time to admire his sculpted torso.

His breath catches lightly, and his hands involuntarily squeeze over your breasts.

“You think I’m handsome?” The questions is posed so innocently, that his voice rises slightly in pitch.

“I do,” you hum, your one hand coming up to cup the side of his face. “You are the most stunningly handsome being I have ever had the pleasure to rest my eyes upon.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows thickly, lips parting with the gentlest of gasps. His one hand slips around your back as he leans in, pulling you closer as he wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours once more.

Mingi pours every single emotion he has for you in the way his lips move against your own. The fingers of his one hand still cup your breast, beginning to pinch and roll your nipple between them. His tender movements mirror the gentle caress of his tongue against your own, and it only causes your breath to hitch lightly in your throat.

Eagerly, he swallows all of your moans, loving the way you cling to him desperately as he feels you beneath his touch. Your skin is a delicacy which ignites a fire beneath his own, and with every passing second, he only wants more.

Slowly, Mingi trails his hand that had been squeezing at your breast down your torso. His fingers dance lethargically against your skin, tracing over every dip and curve presented to him. The way he caresses you, trailing his fingertips over your scars lovingly, has your whole body heating, eagerly leaning into his every touch.

Desperately, you begin to crave more.

Soon, his fingers begin slipping beneath the waistline of your pants, never dipping more than a knuckle deep. He’s cautious, pulling away to meet your gaze to check in on you, wanting to make sure that you’re still okay, and that he’s not moving too quickly.

Your eyes stare up at him, wide and pleading, and he feels your hips shift the lightest bit forward. The smallest of whimpers escapes you, and the sound goes straight to his cock, lips parting in another moan as the scent of your arousal completely fills his every sense.

He can practically taste you on his tongue…

“Touch me, Mingi,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, airy and desperate. “Show me how beautiful I am.”

A low, pleased growl rumbles out from his chest. “With pleasure.”

Without wasting another moment, Mingi tears right through your pants, pulling the shredded material away and tossing it to the side. His hand comes down to settle on your thigh, thumb stroking lightly over your skin as he spreads you the slightest bit more open for him.

His lips find your own once more as his fingers creep up your thigh, skimming gently over the edge of your underwear. The fact that he can hear you whimper against his mouth only makes him smile into the kiss, deepening it without a second thought.

A moment later, he hooks a finger through the band, snapping the thin material and fully exposing you to him.

The full, unfiltered scent of your arousal bombards his senses, and he cannot help the way he gasps against your lips. His chest heaves with every breath, shifting his hand to cup you over your mound, the heat of you settling enticingly against his palm.

The hand he has splayed on your back tugs you in closer as the fingers of his other hand part your folds gently. Carefully, he drags the tip of his middle finger over your cunt, his eyes nearly rolling at the wetness that greets his skin.

A soft gasp escapes you as you feel him using the tip of his finger to circle over your clit, the movement making your whole body jolt in pleasure.

His touch is soft, tentative almost. He wants to take his time exploring you right now, letting you feel his devotion to you in every movement that he makes. Anything and everything to get you to sigh his name in bliss, to have you clinging to him, and begging for more.

He adds the slightest bit more pressure over your clit.

Your eyes flutter, and another gasp escapes you. This time, of his name.

“There is no sweeter sound than the call of my name from your lips, Beloved,” Mingi breathes out against your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin.

The tip of his finger slips back down to circle your entrance, dipping lightly through your folds before pushing only a single knuckle into you. He slips it back out before pushing deeper into you each time, repeating the process until his finger is buried within your warmth, feeling the way your walls squeeze him so beautifully.

A moan falls from your lips, purposely clenching around his finger as you cling to him. Your head falls forward, eyes hooded as you glance his toned body before you. The moment you feel his thumb find your clit, you reach down, taking his cock into your one hand and pumping him a few times just above the water.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, a low groan tumbling from his lips.

“Beloved,” his voice is strained, brow furrowing as he focusses on the way you shift your hand over his cock. “I don’t expect-“

“I want to.” Your own voice comes out breathlessly, clenching around his finger once more as he begins to move it within you. “I want to please you, too.”

“Your mere existence pleases me,” he replies airily, adding the slightest bit more pressure to his thumb circling over your clit. “I’ll allow it. For now. But after, I want it to be all about you.”

“But-“

The protest dies on your lips as you feel him wrap his one arm he has at your back fully around your waist. There is now barely any space between your two bodies, just enough to allow you both to continue your ministrations over the other as you hold one another close.

“Do not underestimate what being able to please you does to me, Blossom,” his words are but a low drawl on his lips, curling his finger deep inside of you and making you gasp. “You feel like heaven around me. Seeing you, getting to feel your reactions to me, is one of the greatest pleasures I will ever receive in my life.”

At the way you feel his cock twitch in your hand from his words, you know there is no greater truth to him than what he’s just spoken. A fact which makes your stomach twist in pleasure, squeezing around his finger buried deep inside of you as his thumb continues to circle over your clit.

Another moan escapes you, and your hand tightens subconsciously around his cock. You do your best to mirror the pace of his finger currently massaging your inner walls, but the pleasure that threatens to drown you at any second makes it increasingly difficult to think.

Your free hand clings onto his back, fingers digging into his skin. The press of your nails only causes him to shiver in pleasure, lips parting as low groans escape him. The way your hand feels, languidly stoking over his cock, makes his head spin. The moment he feels you swipe your thumb over his slit, he has to bite his lip to keep himself from coming.

He needs to see you fall apart before he can even think to let himself go.

Slowly, just as he did with the first finger, he works another into you. His pace is gentle, pushing in so far only to pull back out as he stretches you open for him. His thumb never once leaves your clit, either, circling that sensitive little nub as his lips return to your own.

Eagerly, he swallows your sounds, offering you ones of his own in return. At the way he can feel your hands beginning to shake against him, he knows that you’re close.

“Give it to me, Beloved,” his breath escapes him as no more than heavy pants as he pushes his fingers into you. “I’m right here. Let yourself go.”

The moment you feel his fingers bury themselves deep inside of you, pressing firmly against your inner walls, your eyes roll. The tips lightly brush over such a sensitive spot inside of you, his thumb circling over your clit in time with his movements, making you see stars.

You come with a loud cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as your body collapses forward into him.

Of course, he is right there to catch you, to steady you as you fall.

Your hand stills over his cock, squeezing him firmly as he moans deeply, beginning to thrust lightly into your grip. Not even a moment later, you feel warm spurts of come painting your stomach, his breath heaving as low, pleased growls escape him with every exhale.

The feeling of Mingi’s hand gently stroking over your spine slowly begins to bring you back to reality. Your chest rises and falls dramatically with each breath you take, revelling in his touch. Your forehead presses against his chest, and you can feel it vibrating contently beneath you as he finally removes his hand from your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he coos, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other settles onto your thigh. His fingers press delicately into your flesh, thumb stroking over your skin lightly. “So perfect.”

Ever so carefully, Mingi begins to dip you backwards, laying you gently upon the stone you rest on. His figure looms above you, nothing but love shining deep within his gaze as he stares into your eyes.

You finally release your hold on his cock, hand coming up to settle on his chest while the other shifts to tangle in his hair. You waste no time in pulling his lips back down to your own, heart swelling inside of your chest as his hands roam all over your body. Carefully, he avoids the mess he’s just made on your stomach. For now.

A blink, and Mingi begins trailing his lips down the side of your neck. His hot breath fans over your skin, contrasting the coolness of the rock at your back.

“Still okay?” He asks gently, gazing up at you through his lashes as his head rests just above your chest.

You nod, quite eagerly, as you still attempt to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

The smile that pulls at Mingi’s lips is so tender, that you cannot help the way your heart flutters in response. Almost instantly, he eagerly begins to trail more kisses down your chest, suckling lightly at your skin.

His hands return to your breasts, kneading the flesh tenderly as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. A flick of his tongue over the pert bud has you moaning, arching once more into his touch as your thighs squeeze around his sides.

Softly, he suckles on your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive skin as he hums against you. A moment later, he’s releasing you with a soft pop, kissing his way over to your other breast to give it the exact same attention.

Your lips are parted, eyes hooded over as you lift your head to watch him move over you. Your one hand tangles in his locks, nails scratching at his scalp as your fingers thread through his hair.

What truly makes your head spin is when you see him detach himself from your nipple only to press his face directly between the valley of your breasts. His eyes flutter closed, and he inhales deeply, a stuttering groan falling passed his lips. Then, he’s tilting his head forward, placing a lingering kiss right over the skin of your beating heart.

“Mine.” He growls out, his eyes flashing open to stare deeply into your own.

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart stuttering inside of your chest. Only, your reaction surprises you. You cannot deny the way your stomach twists in pleasure at the way he says this, nor the way you feel yourself clench around nothing.

So, you respond in a way that feels both natural and right in this moment to you.

“Yours.” The word is but a sigh on your lips, but the effect it has on the fae before you is instantaneous.

A desperate groan escapes him, his eyes falling shut as he presses his face against your chest once more. You can feel his every breath hitting your skin, his hands settling onto your waist and pulling you in closer. His fingers dig into your skin, firm enough so that you can feel the need in his touch, but not enough to hurt you.

No. Never enough to hurt you.

“As I will always, and forevermore, be yours,” he breathes out onto your skin, blinking his gaze open to stare up at you lovingly. He hums contently, “My Beloved Blossom.”

Slowly, he begins trailing kisses back down your torso, his hands still eagerly gripping at your sides. His eyes briefly flick down to your stomach, noting the lines of his come still covering you in him.

Something deep within Mingi snarls with unabashed pride, and he smirks.

His tongue comes out to lave over your skin, tracing the trails of his come all the way from bottom to top. After each line, he places open mouthed kisses against your stomach, laving his lips over every inch of you, and loving the way he can feel you begin to squirm beneath him in pleasure.

Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Mine.”

The moan Mingi lets out against your skin is deep, his fingers sinking a little firmer into your sides. His chest rumbles pridefully in agreement, his sharp eyes flashing as he looks up to meet your gaze.

“Say it again,” his voice is but a growl on his lips as he sinks to his knees before you.

With a slight hitch in your breath, you comply.

“Mine.”

His hooded eyes lock onto your own, licking his lips eagerly as he slides his hands under your thighs, pushing your legs further apart.

“Again.” He growls, shifting forward slightly to hook your legs over his shoulders.

The way your pussy clenches right before his very eyes has another pleased rumble shaking his chest.

A small whimper slips passed your lips, and Mingi can feel the way your thighs begin to tremble against his shoulders.

“You’re mine.” Your fingers come down to thread back through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

Mingi’s eyes flutter once more, a pleased hum escaping him.

“I am yours, Blossom,” he leans his head gently against your one thigh. A moment later, he’s turning to place a tender kiss right over where that cut he helped heal had previously marred your flesh. Then, his eyes are flashing open, and he tugs you closer to the edge of the spring. “Now, let me watch you bloom.”

As soon as those words escape his lips, he’s diving into you, parting your folds eagerly with his tongue. The moan he lets out reverberates against your core, licking a broad strip upwards to begin flicking gently at your clit.

Your whole body jolts at the first touch of his tongue over your cunt. A whimper of his name falls passed your lips, thighs naturally wrapping themselves around his head.

A pleased growl escapes him, vibrating pleasantly against your clit as he sucks the little bundle of nerves between his lips. His hands wrap around your thighs, pulling himself in closer to you as he positively buries his face in your cunt, licking eagerly at every drop you have to offer him.

You moan, eyes falling shut as you cry out his name once more.

“That’s it, Blossom,” his voice rumbles out against your folds, his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue swirls around your entrance. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

His tongue dips between your folds, pressing deeper into you with every lick.

“So good,” you moan, fingers tightening in his hair to pull him in closer to your cunt. “Fuck- Mingi!”

His eyes flutter in bliss, moaning shamelessly into your pussy as he laves his mouth over you.

“Just like that, Blossom,” his tongue comes up to flick eagerly at your clit again, his one arm shifting beneath you. “I want you to drown me in you.”

The second those words slip passed his lips, his fingers are back at your entrance. Slowly, he begins to push two back into you, working you open just as he did earlier.

He needs to feel you squeezing around him again. He needs to see you fall apart for him again. He needs to feel you coming for him, and him alone.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he hums, pulling away to watch his fingers slip inside of you. He nearly moans at the sight, cock twitching as he feels your walls clench around him. “So pretty, and all for me to devour.”

Another moan tumbles from your lips, tossing your head back in bliss. You can hardly maintain eye contact with him for long, the heat from his gaze setting your soul on fire, and bathing you in in the warmth of his love, of his desire.

It’s for you. It’s all for you.

The wet sounds of his tongue on your core fill the clearing as he returns to suckling on your clit. His fingers move languidly in you, massaging against your inner walls until the tips are finding that familiar spot that has your breath hitching. Once he feels is against the tips of his fingers, he curls them, humming over your clit as he shakes his head from side to side.

Your thighs begin to shake around him, that familiar pressure building within you with every flick of his tongue over your clit. The pleasant stretch of his fingers buried in your cunt only makes you clench around them, breath stuttering as he continues to massage the tips over that special spot deep inside of you.

Gently, you feel him grab one of your hands in his own, tugging it loose from his hair in order to lace your fingers with his. His eyes plead for you to fall apart, squeezing your hand now held within his own as he flattens his tongue against your clit.

His warm breath hits your cunt with every desperate pant that escapes him, moving his tongue languidly in circles. In the next moment, he pulls away to flick at the sensitive little nub rapidly, watching your every reaction intently as he curls his fingers once more.

Your orgasm crashes into you without warning, your legs trembling violently around his head. Naturally, your thighs squeeze together, back arching off of the stones as you cry out his name. Your eyes flutter shut, brow furrowed as you cling onto his hand like a lifeline, drowning in the ecstasy he so willingly provides.

Moans and whimpers of his name fall from your lips, attempting to catch your breath as you feel his tongue continuing to lick over your dripping cunt. It’s slow, and tender, collecting every last drop you have to offer him as he removes his fingers from your core.

He hums, chest rumbling pleasantly as his thumb rubs over the back of your one hand held in his. His other is settled on your upper thigh, resting just below your hip to help steady you on the rocks.

Pulling his head away, he licks his lips, and you can see your essence dripping down his chin as it shines beneath the light of the day.

“I love making you come for me,” his voice escapes him as no more than a content growl, turning his head to place tender kisses upon the skin of your inner thighs. “True solace resides here, between the heat of your legs.”

Your expression softens, a gentle sigh of his name falling from your lips.

“I never want you to stop calling out my name,” he breathes, the ghost of his breath tickling the skin of your thigh.

Carefully, he lets your legs fall from his shoulders, and back into the water of the pool below. The grip he has on your one hand loosens, and he stands back to his feet. His touch trails up your sides as he leans over you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply.

You hum against his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your fingers thread back through his hair.

Gently, he pulls away, resting his forehead against your own.

“Are you okay?” His tone is soft, staring deeply into your eyes as he holds himself above you for the moment.

A tender smile pulls at your lips. “More than okay.”

He returns your loving smile.

“Do you want to-“

“Make love to me, Mingi,” your gaze holds nothing but the most fond of looks as you bring your hand around to cup the side of his face, staring deeply into his eyes. “Make love to me as you claim me as yours.”

There is no denying the hitch in his breath as he stares down at your form, naked and spread out beneath him. His gaze searches your own, and all he can see staring back at him is the same tenderness that he knows is held within his own. There is no uncertainty in your eyes, nor hesitance, and the way you soon pull him in closer only serves to make his heart swell with even more love for you inside of his chest.

“I would love nothing more,” his reply is gentle, his fingers coming up to trace over the side of your cheek.

Taking a moment now, Mingi commits this beautiful scene to memory for years to come.

Pushing himself slightly upwards, Mingi lets his hands trail over the length of your body. Love pours from his gaze and into his touch as he looks down at you. A love that he can see, that he can feel returned in your own.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he glances something that has his heart skipping a beat inside of his chest at the mere thought of. Briefly, his eyes flit from your face, to the side, and back before he’s cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand once more.

“I want you to wear something for me while I make love to you, Beloved.” He licks his lips. “Can you- can you do that for me?”

Your eyes search his face for a moment, trailing all over his features as you lift a hand to rest on top of his own.

Slowly, you nod your head, a soft ‘okay’ falling from your lips.

Carefully, Mingi reaches his hand out above you, grasping something in his grip. Your eyes track his every movement, and the moment he pulls back, your breath hitches slightly in your throat.

There, in his grip, rests that crimson sash, stained fresh with the blood of all those who had ever wronged you.

Your lips part in awe, heart swelling at the meaning behind his request. Not to mention the fact that this band is his most prized possession, and now he wants you to wear it during such an intimate moment shared between the two of you.

Mingi helps you sit up, his hand on your back to steady you as you grip onto his shoulders. He can hear how fast your heart is beating, and he knows that his is doing the exact same.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and your expression says it all. No words need to be said between you as a deep understanding passes over one another. One that says you care about him, and he cares about you, both in your own ways. You will let him take care of you, just as you’ve always wanted. Just as you’ve always deserved.

Leaning forward, Mingi presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He allows his lips to linger, his eyes falling shut as he absolutely revels in this moment here with you. There is so much wants to tell you, so much he wants to show you, but for now, he’ll start with this.

“I love you, My Blossom,” Pulling away, Mingi makes sure to stare deeply into your eyes. “So much.”

A smile tugs at your features, tender and loving. “As I love you, My General.”

“Mingi.” The corner of his mouth quirks upwards as corrects you. He shifts forward, securing that sash carefully around your forehead. “For you, it’s always Mingi.”

The sound of the fabric tightening as it’s tied reaches your ears, but the knot is anything but. He ensures that band is securely around your forehead, eyes shining with nothing but admiration and awe as he pulls away to stare at you.

Slowly, his fingertips trace back down over the curve of your cheeks, wrapping his arms around your back. He draws you in closer as you part your legs for him, letting him press himself flush against your chest.

Your hands slide down the front of his torso, eyes following in their wake as you take the time to fully admire him. You cannot help the way your tongue comes out to wet your lips, stomach flipping pleasantly as the realization that he is yours settles over you.

You smile.

“If I hurt you-“

“You won’t.” Your voice comes out firmly, gaze darting back up to meet his own. “I trust you.”

Mingi’s breath catches in his throat, and his heart skips a beat inside of his chest. Your words mean everything to him in this moment, and he swears to never break that trust for as long as you both shall live.

As he stares deeply into your eyes, you know that he won’t, either.

Scooting closer to the edge of the rock you sit on, you manage to wrap your legs around Mingi’s waist. The way you pull him in closer in such a way only causes a smile to tug at his lips, his hands sliding down your sides and settling lightly on your waist.

“Hold onto me, Beloved,” he says lowly, his hands shifting to grasp your ass and lift you slightly towards him.

Immediately, you comply, your arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders as he pulls you into him.

His hold is gentle as he walks himself backwards and into the centre of that spring. The pool deepens, the water now coming up to about his chest height, but still, he carries you, making sure your head, and that sash, stay dry.

Carefully, he adjusts you so that his one hand is supporting you beneath your ass, while the other reaches down between the two of your bodies. He takes his cock into his hand, pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up with your entrance. He takes the liberty to drag the head of his cock through your folds, bumping over your clit a few times as he meets your gaze.

“Tell me you want this,” his words are a bit desperate, eyes pleading as he holds you both still, waiting for that final confirmation to fall from your lips. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart swells in your chest, warmth flooding your veins as you cup his face in both of your hands. Your eyes shine with nothing but love and admiration, desire swirling deep within your irises as you hold his gaze. The fact that he still waits, the fact that he’s been so gentle and caring with you this whole time, only proves to solidify your answer.

“I want this, Mingi,” the words are but a tender whisper on your lips. “I want you.”

Mingi’s heart simply flutters at your admission, and he doesn’t waste another moment before slowly letting you sink down on his cock. He’s nothing but tender, and oh, so, careful as he pulls you down only so far before lifting you off of him again, repeating the process as he pushes deeper and deeper into you each time.

The warmth of your cunt makes his head spin, and with every inch that he sinks further into your tight walls, he finds it harder and harder to control himself. Yet still, he does.

For your sake.

Your hands dig into the skin of his shoulders, clinging to him tightly as he stretches you out. You can feel yourself clenching around him with each delicious inch that stretches you out, eyes nearly rolling once he finally sheathes himself fully into your tight heat.

His arms are around you, holding you flush against his chest as his brow furrows. Small pants escape him, low moans spilling from his lips each time you shift slightly above him.

“You feel like paradise around me, Beloved,” he drawls out huskily right beside your ear. “Like you were made for me.”

A soft gasp slips passed your lips as he shifts beneath you, clenching around him as you feel his cock pulse deep within you.

“So wet,” he coos, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. “So warm.”

“For you,” you breathe out, and you hear the way a choked moan escapes him. “All because of you.”

This time, there’s no mistaking the moan that falls passed his lips. His chest rumbles with a low, pleased growl, his lips finding purchase on your skin.

“Feel how hard you make me, Blossom?” He hums, tongue darting out to lave over your pulse. “Feel how well you let me fill this tight little pretty pussy of yours?”

He gives a tentative grind of his hips into your own, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

“Yes,” you moan out, tossing your head back as you tighten your hold around him. “Feel so good filling me, Min.”

You emphasize your words by clenching around him, hearing a choked gasp of your name fall from his lips.

“You are my everything,” he whispers, one hand shifting to grab at your ass and squeezing the flesh appreciatively. Again, he rolls his hips up into your own. “My Beautiful, Beloved, Blossom.”

This time, it’s his turn to emphasize his every word with a roll of his hips into you, his voice coming out as no more than a low growl. His opposite hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, but searing kiss.

Slowly, but surely, he begins a languid pace, rolling his hips up into yours as he holds onto you just as tightly as you cling to him. Each movement is precise, letting you feel his devotion in the way he brings his hips up to meet your own, and pouring every ounce of love that he can into the way his cock fills your tight little hole.

Low hums and soft sighs fall from your lips, his name gracing your tongue with every gentle thrust he gives you. Your arms wrap around his back, nails tracing lightly over his skin and leaving marks of your own in their wake.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, and he begins to snap his hips a little firmer into you. The way you body bounces with each thrust captivates him, and he drinks in every expression of pleasure you give him eagerly, committing them all to memory.

A choked cry of his name parts your lips as the tip of his cock brushes against that tender spot inside of you. Adjusting his hold on you, he makes sure to hit that spot with every thrust, grinding his hips into your own each time.

That red sash rests like a crown upon your head, and as Mingi glances your ethereal form beneath the light of the morning sun, his heart feels close to bursting. His pace begins to quicken, low rumbles shaking his chest with every move he makes. The way he can feel you clenching around him has his cock twitching deep within you, hands desperately clinging onto you as he pulls you into him to meet his every thrust.

“I love you,” The words are but a strained whisper, falling from his lips repeatedly with every snap of his hips into your own.

Only admiration and the deepest, sincerest form of love can be seen in his gaze as he stares intently into your own, captivated by the glorious sight that is you, falling apart on his cock.

You fingers thread through his hair, pulling his lips to yours for another searing kiss. Eagerly, you swallow his moans, just as you offer up your own to him.

You can feel that familiar tightness building within you, close to snapping at the skillful way he fills you with his cock. No movement is wasted, and the way you feel him squeeze your ass again has you tightening your legs around his waist.

Parting from your lips with a gasp, Mingi’s eyes flutter shut. Not even a moment later, he’s letting his head fall forward, burying his face into the side of your neck.

His lips find purchase over your pulse, sucking lightly at the skin there before laving his tongue eagerly over the spot. His breathing comes in jagged pants, hot breath fanning over your flesh as low growls begin to escape him with every exhale he makes.

“Touch that pretty little clit for me, Blossom,” he breathes out onto the skin of your neck. “Touch that pretty little clit, and make yourself come all over me.”

Another moan of his name slips passed your lips, and you do as told. Almost instantly, your hand slides from his back down to your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub with the tips of your fingers.

You clench hard around him, a desperate whine escaping you as you nearly fall right over the edge.

Gently, the hand he has supporting the back of your head tilts you to expose your neck fully, his pace never once faltering as he laves his tongue over your pulse once more.

Your eyes flutter shut, and with one final flick over your clit, you come, screaming his name.

The instant Mingi feels you coming around him, his fangs sink into the tender flesh of your neck. An animalistic snarl reverberates against your throat, his hips snapping into yours before he stills within you. The hand he has gripping your ass pulls you flush against him as he spills deep inside of you, clinging onto you as desperately as you cling to him.

Your whole body shudders in his hold, the euphoric feeling of your orgasm only intensified by the feeling of his fangs in your throat. You never expected for it to be this intense, and it takes you several long minutes to calm down, whimpering with each small ministration against you. Even the water is starting to become too much against your skin, every feeling intensified and making your shake in overstimulation.

Slowly, you begin to feel something wet and hot dragging itself along the skin of your neck. Pleased rumbles vibrate against your chest as you catch your breath, and finally, your vision returns. Blinking at few times, you focus in on that redcap before you, noticing how he pulls away with red dripping down his chin.

He licks his lips, the most heartwarming smile tugging at his features as he strokes a hand tenderly over your spine.

“My Blossom,” he hums, gaze shining with nothing but tender love and affection as he looks at you. “How beautiful it is to watch you bloom.”

Happy tears well in your eyes, burying your face into his chest as he slowly walks you both back over to the edge of the spring. Your arms hold onto him tightly, humming as you nuzzle into him. You can still feel his cock buried deep inside of you, and it only serves to make this moment that much more special, for you know that he wishes to be part of you for as long as he possibly can.

Despite the bite you’ve just received, your neck doesn’t hurt. Instead, you feel a warmth blooming deep within you. A feeling of tremendous comfort and safety wraps itself around you like a blanket, and with the way he begins to gently wash the both of you off, you know that this feeling resting deep inside of you is pure and true.

Carefully, he unties that band from around your head, placing it gently to the side.

“You did so well for me, Beloved,” he coos, his hand tracing over the contours of your spine. “How I love you so. Very much.”

You can only offer him a hum in return, fatigue suddenly overwhelming you as you rest in his arms. The feeling of his cock slipping out of you makes you moan softly, clenching around nothing as he continues to clean you both up.

“Get some rest, My Beloved.” He chuckles lowly, cradling your head in his one hand. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

And so you do, falling asleep in the arms of the one who loves you most.

***

The moment you wake, Mingi is there. He brings you water, making sure you’re well hydrated before feeding you some food slowly. Most importantly, he makes sure that you’re okay.

Gently, he rubs your muscles, working over any soreness you might have from the events that took place earlier in the day. He even goes so far as to kiss over every single inch of your skin, stating that he wants to make good on his every promise from earlier.

The rest of the day is spent like this, with Mingi taking care of you and you resting in each others arms. He is at your beck and call, and as evening comes, hues of red, orange, pink, and yellow painting the sky, he pulls you in even closer.

Never is he going to let you go. Never does he want to.

Beneath the light of the stars, Mingi makes love to you a second time. He holds your hand tightly in his own, interlacing your fingers together as he makes you cry out his name to the heavens.

Always, it’s all about you.

He treats you with a tenderness you never knew possible for someone like you. A tenderness which you gladly lose yourself to each and every time he offers it, and when you look at him, you realize that everything will all turn out okay.

He’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere.

The next morning is spent wrapped in each other’s embrace.

The soft sounds of birds fill your ears, light filtering in through the breaks in the trees. Gently, leaves sway in the breeze, filling the clearing with the pleasant scents of nature. Your head rests on Mingi’s chest, and you cannot help but glance those two stems of spider lilies beside you, laying almost parallel to you and him.

A smile pulls at your features.

“Good morning, Blossom,” Mingi’s deep voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts. You turn to look up at him, noticing him already staring down at you with nothing but love shining within his gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

A soft hum escapes you as you settle your head back onto his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. “I always sleep better when you are near.”

You can hear the way his heart simply flutters inside of his chest at your words, a content rumble echoing around the clearing.

“Then, it’s a good thing I love holding you so close,” he grins, pulling you impossibly closer into him.

You hum, rolling on top of him, but saying nothing in response. Simply, you revel in this moment, and his touch, curling around him as his hand begins to gently stroke over your spine.

His eyes catch on that fresh bite mark on your neck, the indents from his teeth shining under the light of the morning sun. Another pleased rumble shakes his chest, and softly, he brings a hand upwards. His fingers trace lovingly over the claim on your neck, revelling in the way you positively shiver beneath his touch.

“Can I-“ your voice comes out a bit small, uncertain. “Do I get to give you one of my own?”

Mingi freezes beneath you, his eyes going wide. You can audibly hear the way his breath catches, feeling his heart begin to thunder against your chest as you press up against him.

“You- you want to give me a claim of your own?” His gaze shines with something akin to hope, love and admiration swirling deep within.

“Is that not how it works?” You tilt your head slightly, your brow furrowing as you worry you may have misunderstood him.

“No, no, it- it is.” He inhales a shaky breath through his nose. “I just- I didn’t think you’d wish to-“

“Of course I would want to.” You smile at him softly. “Claims are mutual, are they not?”

His eyes shine with unshed tears, happiness swelling inside his chest and causing his veins to flood with pure ecstasy. Tingles erupt under his skin wherever you touch, and he finds that he cannot get enough.

Slowly, he begins to nod his head.

“Yes.” He swallows the building emotions in his throat. “They are.”

You shift slightly above him, pulling yourself closer to his face so you can stare down at him tenderly. “Then, will you let me claim you, Mingi?”

He blinks, the first of his tears spilling from the corners of his eyes and falling down to the earth to stain its soil with his happiness.

“I would love nothing more.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards as you lean in to press them against his own. His one hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, the other settling onto your lower back and holding you steady over him.

You pull away to stare deeply into his eyes, and Mingi tilts his head to the side, exposing the side of his neck for you.

“Claim me, Beloved,” his words are but a plea upon his lips. “I am yours.”

Slowly, you lean into him. Your lips trail a path from his jawline all the way to the side of his neck, nipping gently at the skin with your teeth. You can hear his breathing deepen, tightening his grip ever so slightly over you as you dart your tongue out to lave over his pulse.

“It’s just a- just a bite, right?” You ask, breath ghosting against his skin.

“Yes,” His reply is airy, tilting his head further to the side as a small, desperate whine escapes him. “Just a bite.”

Teasingly, you drag your teeth over the side of his neck, and you can feel him shiver beneath you. A moment later, you clamp them against his skin, but not enough to be considered a proper bite.

“Blossom,” he pants out, pleading with his eyes despite the fact that you cannot see his face in this instant. “Blossom, please-“

His words get cut off by the feeling of you sinking your teeth into his neck.

A loud moan escapes him, his hips jerking upwards as his eyes squeeze shut. His head nearly gets tosses back at the pleasure that courses through his veins, skin heating beneath your touch as you slowly detach your lips from the side of his throat.

Pulling away, you hold yourself above him. You spare a glance down at his face, noticing how his lips are parted and his eyes are glazed. His chest heaves with every breath as he takes in the sight above him that is you, his blood staining your lips bright red.

The second you dart your tongue out to taste the crimson substance adorning your skin, you moan. Almost instantly, your face buries itself back into the side of his neck, laving at the fresh mark you’ve just given him.

Mingi groans in response, his hands finding purchase on your hips, guiding you to begin grinding over his semi-hard cock. The call of your name is so tender from his lips, that you swear he believes you to be some form of divinity.

In his mind, you are.

The rest of that morning is spent in each others arms, proclaiming your love for one another as you lose yourselves to the pleasure the other provides. Never has anything ever felt so pure in your lives, each desperate for the other as you claim one another over, and over, and over again.

By the time you’ve both finished, the sun is cresting high in the sky. You spend the afternoon cleaning each other up, and by the time the early evening rolls around, you’re finally ready to continue on your journey back home.

Those two stems of spider lilies rest in your hands, and you eagerly take a step forward in the direction of the keep. Only, your right leg gives out on you as soon as you put any sort of pressure on your ankle.

Luckily, Mingi is right there to catch you before you fall. Just as he always will be.

“I’m sorry, Beloved,” his eyes shine with slight remorse. “I overdid it.”

“Not at all.” Immediately, you shake your head. “I can walk.”

Again, you go to take another step, much to Mingi’s protest. Yet, again, your leg gives out on you.

Before you can say anything, Mingi is scooping you into his arms.

“Get some rest, Blossom,” he smiles down at you, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

Your one brow quirks, almost playfully. “I thought you said you weren’t going to carry me?”

Mingi laughs, beginning the final trek home to the keep.

“I’m not carrying you,” he says lightheartedly, a smile tugging at his features. “Think of it as holding onto you while walking. There’s a difference.”

A giggle graces his ears as you curl into him, resting your head on his chest. “Sure there is.”

“I’d carry you to the ends of the earth if it meant getting to see you every day.” He replies earnestly, glancing down at you with such a loving look resting on his features.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Min,” you hum, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

A pleased rumble greets your ears, his grip tightening around you as he pulls you in even closer.

“Get some rest, Blossom,” he repeats his words from mere minutes earlier. “There’s not that much further to go. I’ll get us there safely, don’t you worry.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards in a soft smile.

“I trust you, Min.” Your eyes flutter shut, already feeling the familiar pull of unconsciousness tugging at your mind as the steady rocking of each of his steps begins to lull you to sleep. “I love you.”

You fail to see the tender smile that pulls onto his own features, but you can hear his contentment clear in his voice all the same.

“As I love you, My Beloved Blossom.”

***

Whispers are what rouse you from your sleep.

The sun creeps over the hills, its morning rays lighting up the sky as you blink your eyes open. Mingi had walked with you in his arms all through the night, managing to cover more ground as you slept. He could practically taste the stale air of the keep, the stones beckoning him home.

Getting closer with each step he takes is a somewhat large castle. Half of it lies in ruin, but the keep still stands almost defiantly amongst the rubble. It’s beautiful, yet tragic in a way, but it’s home. A home which you are grateful for, for you know it means Mingi will be there, too.

After all, he is now your home, just as you are his.

Lifting your free hand, you rub at your face. More and more hushed tones follow you as you rest in Mingi’s arms, most if not all, harsh in their musings of disbelief.

“Is that the human?”

“How is she still alive?”

“Never mind that, did he claim her?”

“It won’t mean anything."

“There’s a mark on his neck, too!”

The comments come one right after another, and they only cause you to curl deeper into Mingi’s chest. The implications behind most of them make your heart drop, and though you know that none of them are true where Mingi is concerned, you cannot help but to wonder about those other humans in this realm much unluckier than you.

“Enough!” Mingi’s voice booms out, immediately silencing the gathering redcaps surrounding you. “If you have any issues with who I’ve chosen to imprint on, you may take up your grievances with me in a duel.”

Your breath catches slightly in your throat, curling in even closer into his chest as an eerie silence stretches on around you.

“If I catch any of you treating her with anything less than the utmost of respect, I will carve out your tongue, and feed it to the crows. There is no limit on what I will do to you, should you choose to harm her in any way.” Mingi’s sharp gaze looks over his gathered subordinates, his arms tightening over you almost subconsciously. “Do I make myself clear?”

Immediately, the redcaps all straighten. “Yes, General.”

Mingi grunts, turning back to continue making his way through the keep.

“Dismissed.”

You don’t have to peek over his shoulder to know that the other fae have immediately obeyed his orders.

The rest of the day is spent with Mingi showing you around the keep. He takes you out back to an empty field, helping you plant that one red spider lily with him. The way he smiles at you when you turn to look up at him in awe says it all.

Finally, you’re home.

A few days pass, and you seem to have no incidents with the other redcaps. Things are a bit interesting at first, to say the least, with them not used to having a human around, let alone treating one with respect. However, they respect their General, and will obey his every command, and thus, they are respectful to you.

It’s only when you’re in your new bedroom, alone, do you feel a chill raise on the back of your neck.

“You should be dead.”

A voice from the open doorway causes you to turn to see Windfel standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. A frown mars his features, only visible from the downturn of his lips as that red flat cap is pulled low over his head.

You blink at him, tilting your head in inquiry as your brow furrows slightly.

“No, really,” he pushes himself off of the doorframe, beginning to stalk his way forward and into your room. “He should have killed you.”

You involuntarily take a step backwards at the sudden dark look in his eyes.

“He was supposed to kill you!” Windfel shouts, appearing before you in the blink of an eye and pinning you to the wall by your throat. “I should have just done it myself to get it over with, but I thought it would be fun to have the general go on a little hunt.”

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, throat constricting as fear builds within your chest. All you can do is stare at the crazed redcap before you, struggling to free yourself from his grip as your vision begins to fade in the corners.

The hand around your throat tightens even further.

Tears line your eyes, spilling freely down your cheeks as you attempt to cry out for help. Mingi had been scouting the area outside the keep today, so if only you could just get enough air to fill your lungs to scream…

“You humans think you’re so fucking special,” Windfel spits, one of his claws tracing over the top line of your claim almost mockingly. “Seduce one fae, and you suddenly believe you’re untouchable.”

Your legs kick out uselessly beneath you, your right ankle throbbing as your lungs burn. With every moment that passes, you can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker, only being able to think of Mingi in what you believe to be your final moments.

A roar so deadly pierces the air, shaking the entirety of the keep.

Within the blink of an eye, Windfel is torn away from you, his body being thrown through the window beside your bed. Mingi is beside you in an instant, hands shaking against your form as you heave air into your lungs. Fear, pure and unfiltered, rests in his gaze as he check you over gently, making sure that you’re okay before standing back to your feet.

“How did you…” your words trail off, coughing lightly at the pain speaking brings you right now.

“I could sense you,” Mingi responds, tightening his hold around you as he cradles you to his chest.

It is then that you feel him place a soft kiss over his claim on your neck.

A shiver caresses your spine as he helps you back to your feet. You can hear shouting coming from the courtyard below, and as Mingi leads you outside, your hand held in his own, you see him shift into every bit of that cold persona of the monstrous general you have come to love.

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice booms out across the courtyard, sharp eyes darting around at the gathered redcaps.

You notice Windfel being held back by both Lias and Darius, their claws sinking into his flesh unforgivingly. Blood drips down his features, pieces of broken glass embedded in his skin.

“You’ve gone soft, General,” Windfel spits, turning his hate filled eyes towards you.

Almost instantly, Mingi steps in front of you, blocking you from the other redcap’s sight.

“You purposely sent me on a hunt in hopes that I would kill her.” Mingi’s voice is but a low snarl on his lips, dangerous in every right. “I thought it was strange that you would take her to bathe. When the wild stream wouldn’t kill her, you had hoped that I would.”

An unbridled fury shines within Windfel’s gaze. However, it is only unmatched by Mingi’s own.

“That’s why you let her go.” Mingi’s eyes flash as he bares his fangs at the redcap before him. “Didn’t you?”

Windfel purses his lips, and his silence speaks volumes.

“Speak.” Mingi snarls out the command, the cadence of his voice causing some rubble to crumble to the ground at the side of the courtyard. “Your general asked you a question.”

You can see the surrounding redcaps backing up slowly from the other two, both Lias and Darius shoving Windfel to his knees before Mingi. The captain and the vice-captain under his command may be nefarious, but at least they are loyal. At least they understand respect.

A heaviness settles in the air between the two fae as Mingi towers over the smaller redcap, anger radiating off of him in waves. No one dares interfere in this matter, for they all know what will happen to them if they do. Their general is not afraid to make an example out of anyone.

“The bitch should have died.” Windfel spits. “If not at your hands, then at someone else’s.”

A deadly silence passes over the entire courtyard, and you notice both Lias and Darius suddenly flanking you on either side. It’s as if they’ve stepped towards you for your protection.

At the way you notice Mingi’s hands shaking in fists at his sides, you know this to be undoubtably true.

“Get up.” Mingi commands the fae at his feet, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

Windfel’s brow furrows, but he still does as told.

Little do you see the maniacal look that stretches across Mingi’s features.

“I accept your challenge.”

The entire courtyard goes silent, and you swear you could hear a pin drop. All the colour drains from Windfel’s face as he takes a step back in shock.

Slowly, you watch as Mingi unties that red sash from around his upper arm, wrapping it around his forehead and securing it into place. His claws unsheathe, and you swear all the redcaps around you stop breathing.

“My Beloved Blossom,” The sudden, gentle call of your name from Mingi catches your attention as he stands with his back facing you.

You take a deep breath in.

“Close your eyes.”

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 3 months ago

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Okay seriously though probably my least favorite thing about fanon Izzy (aside from all the Racist Takes, you know) is that it depicts him as actually loyal when the kind of "loyalty" he's got going on is so much more interesting

Izzy claims that loyalty to his captain is something that's important to him. And I don't doubt that he thinks he's loyal.

But is he "loyal to his captain?" No, not at all, to the point where that's just laughable. He constantly berates Ed, undermines his reputation to the crew by calling him "insane" and the like, lies to him, attempts to force decisions over his head (like trying to come up with own ""plan"" for dealing with the Spanish and trying to kill Stede), and even goes so far as to call the cops on him. Izzy not only isn't loyal to Ed, during s1 he's constantly being an all-around dick to him and is unshakeably convinced that he's in the right for it.

And that conviction is the interesting part! Because Izzy isn't loyal to Ed at all, he's loyal to the idea of Blackbeard. He's loyal to this legend he's built up in his head and the power and importance it gives him to be working with Blackbeard. He doesn't care about what's best for Ed, he cares about maintaining a caricature of Blackbeard and forcing Ed to fit it.

He's loyal to Ed the same way the mean dads in coming-of-age sports movies are loyal to their kids by forcing them to make their whole lives about little league baseball ("but baseball is your dream!" "no, dad, this is your dream" style). Very "I'm just doing what's best for you!" vibes, and that really helps explain why the catalyst for Izzy realizing he majorly fucked up in s2 starts with Ed spelling out for him that Izzy is expendable to him.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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saccharinesunsetretired · 11 months ago

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Wilbur Soot’s Guide to Side Hustles | camboy!Simpbur x camgirl!reader | Part One

My first ever series on this blog yayayayay! Also first time writing Simpbur. No fucking clue when the next chapter will be up though. Could be next week. Could be a month. Life contains many mysteries.

Summary: Wilbur has had a long line of obsessions in his time. In a desperate attempt to get the attention he craves, he starts making content online. When he encounters you at a party full of other creators...well, he's never been good at staying away from things that draw him in, and you may very well be his undoing.

Warnings/Tags: sub!Simpbur, dom!reader. Unrealistic sex/depictions of sex work (although I did try), smut, pegging, general simpbur creepiness, discussions of virignity/consent, low self-esteem and insecurity problems, unhealthy attitudes toward sex. Reader is AFAB and a woman

Word Count: 11.3k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

“Hey, creep.”

Wilbur blinked and looked up from his math textbook. Standing right in front of him was a girl from his English course, a girl he’d had a crush on for years. They had never actually spoken. Instead, he’d done what he did best—watched from afar and stayed out of it. For a moment, despite her harshness, he just stared, basking in her attention.

She laughed, and her friends laughed from a few desks away as they looked on. “Do you know how to speak?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. He could feel his cheeks burning. “What’s, um…what’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” The girl laughed again. “I’ve seen you hovering near my locker, you fucking pervert.”

Wilbur froze. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Oh, you weren’t?” She leaned against a nearby desk. “Who’s been leaving me notes, then?”

Wilbur wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole. He had been leaving notes. And admittedly, yes, some of them were creepier than others. The notes ranged from Good luck on midterms :) to You looked so hot in class today. And despite Wilbur’s general lack of self-awareness, he recognized how this looked. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop.”

“If you don’t, I’m reporting you,” she replied. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Got it.” Wilbur had never felt more embarrassed. The other students began to whisper. He could feel a million eyes on him—well, what felt like a million, at least. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at his desk as his eyes stung.

“Good.” The girl stood there for another few moments. “It’s a waste,” she said. “You could almost be cute, if you weren’t such a freak.”

Present Day

You could almost be cute if you weren’t such a freak.

Wilbur remembered that, because of course he did. It was the closest he ever got to someone returning his affections. Yes, he knew it was pathetic, but that shred of affirmation went a long way.

He started bettering himself. It started with better hygiene, not wearing clothes multiple days in a row, properly washing his hair. His parents had been bothering him to do that for ages, anyway. He dressed better, tried to socialize. That last point didn’t go too well. He got bullied to the point that he ended up switching schools and had to deal with the fact that at least a bit of it was warranted.

He never saw that crush of his ever again. He developed new ones, new fixations. He didn’t leave notes, though, or stalk anyone or do anything to arouse suspicion. He promised himself that he could be normal, that he would be normal.

Well, perhaps he’d intentionally switched classes a few times to “keep an eye on” some of the people he became fixated on. But was that such a big deal?

And then university came. Loans, what felt like a million dollars in debt. One night, the result of a drunken decision, he filmed himself getting off. On an even more questionable drunken decision, he posted it online to some internet forum he had only heard of in passing. The second he remembered it the next day (after recovering physically a bit from his previous drinking binge), he was absolutely mortified. And yet, to his immense surprise, people liked it. It wasn’t any sort of viral sensation, of course, but he had a decent number of comments when he woke up in the morning. At first, he was put off by the vulgarity of it, but then, he realized that this was how he could get the high that he’d always craved—attention.

He started working on it. Filming videos, uploading photos. Pretty soon, he had an OnlyFans account going. His content was mostly solo stuff, webcam livestreams and private chats with his more dedicated followers. To his surprise, he started making decent money. It was nice to have something to help relieve some of the university debt. Plus, the validation was nice, even if it was only in praise of his body.

Besides, he had long given up the idea of anybody loving him for anything other than that.

Online, his persona was more submissive. It was easier for him, not having to fake confidence that he didn’t have. Instead, he could let himself moan as loud as he wanted, let the microphone pick up every small gasp and whine as he got himself off either with his hands or one of the million toys that he’d purchased since starting the job. The needier he looked, the better.

Then, he found the confidence to do his first collaboration. The benefits of moving to a larger area for university were plenty, but one of the biggest benefits turned out to be the fact that he was far from the only sex worker in the city. He lost his virginity to a girl on a livestream, although she didn’t know it was his first time. At least, she pretended not to know. Wilbur got the feeling that she could tell. Either way, it had made good content. In fact, it had been so profitable that she had invited him to a small gathering of some other creators—sex workers of all types.

And that was how he ended up holding a can of cheap beer in the corner of a party. It was at someone’s apartment, someone he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. The music was far too loud, the conversation too overwhelming. For a moment, Wilbur was sixteen again, sitting at his desk and wanting to disappear.

At least, until you walked in. You, dressed to the nines for a simple house party. For a moment, he locked eyes with you, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked away first, too intimidated, too afraid. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as you walked into the kitchen to greet the host of the party and grab a drink.

When you reentered the living room, Wilbur’s eyes immediately went back to you. Suddenly, it was as if nobody else was there. He could feel it creeping up on him again, the beginning of an obsession.

Be normal, he reminded himself. Don’t be a creep.

He watched as you greeted almost everyone at the party, flawlessly interacting with the guests. Clearly, you knew your way around. Eventually, you made your way over to Wilbur. He took a sip of his beer to try and appear casual, only to choke slightly.

“Shit, didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, chuckling. “You alright?” You leaned against the wall right beside him, so close that he could smell your shampoo. Or maybe it was perfume. He couldn’t tell, and honestly didn’t care to discern the difference.

“Fine,” Wilbur replied. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. You caught me mid-sip.”

“My bad, stranger.” You offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. And you’re Wilbur, right? Allison told me about you.”

Wilbur hesitantly shook your hand before pulling his own hand away suspiciously quick. “Right, yeah,” Wilbur replied. “We did a livestream earlier.”

“I heard. Apparently it was a hit.” You briefly glanced at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “And you’re new on the scene…?”

“Yeah, pretty new.” Wilbur shrugged, trying to play it cool and relax his nerves. “That was my first non-solo livestream.” And my first time having sex ever his mind reminded him. Because people only want you if they can profit.

He shook the thought away as you spoke again. “Damn. Pretty good for your first time, then.” You grinned at him. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention so quickly.”

“It’s…definitely been a surprise to me,” Wilbur agreed. A tense silence passed between you and Wilbur. “So…you also do the whole…camgirl thing?” He thought that he’d heard of you in passing, but before, he’d had no reason to look you up.

“Yeah! Two years and going. Still doing mostly solo stuff, but trying to branch out a little,” you replied. “It can be difficult to know who to trust in this industry, who genuinely has your best interests at heart and who is taking advantage.”

“I bet.” Wilbur set his beer aside. It wasn’t that good, anyway. “Do you like it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Other times no. Depends on how creepy people are that day.”

Wilbur laughed, nodding in agreement. He watched you as you took a sip of your own drink, some sort of cocktail. “But you make good money?” he asked. His frenzied mind attempted to come up with some flirtatious lines, but nothing else left his mouth. Considering how cringy all the lines were, it was for the better.

“Decent money,” you replied. “And you?”

“Decent money.”

“Cool.” Wilbur felt slightly uneasy as you eyed him up and down. “Hand me your phone,” you said after a moment.

Wilbur blinked. “Why?” he asked. Despite his questioning, he unlocked his phone and handed it over without complaint.

“So I can give you my number,” you replied. You began entering your contact information. “Not to be too forward, but the main reason I came to this party was just to network. Like I said, I’m branching out, and it seems that you’re doing the same.” You handed his phone back. “Maybe we could collab.”

Wilbur felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt like it was spinning, and considering he’d only had half a beer, he definitely couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “Oh. Um…you sure?”

You smirked. “You seem harmless enough, Wil. Besides, we can talk a bit beforehand, get to know each other a little. I’d rather not fuck someone without knowing a bit about them.”

“Fair.” Wilbur very shakily tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He noticed you starting to leave. “We’ll be in touch, then?” he asked.

You winked. “You can count on it.” Only a moment later, you disappeared into the crowd.

Wilbur left the party immediately after. He saw no point in staying if he couldn’t talk with you more. Even after that sliver of conversation, everyone else at the party seemed even more dull than before. He got into the back of a taxi, trying (and failing) to make his brain go quiet.

All he could think about was your skin under the multicolored lights at the party, the sound of your laugh, the brightness of your smile. He checked his phone, and all he could think about was the fact that your hands had touched it less than fifteen minutes prior. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right he would get to touch you for real.

He imagined your hands on him, fingers curled around his cock. Nobody had ever given him a handjob before, but he (for better or worse) had always had a vivid imagination. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window of the cab as he imagined it, your fingers on him. He tried to imagine every detail, the texture of your fingertips, the tone of voice you would use as you praised him.

By the time the taxi dropped him off outside his apartment building, he was achingly hard. He made it to his studio apartment, took off his coat and shoes, and immediately sat on his bed. He opened his laptop and searched for your name.

Sure enough, he found your OnlyFans, as well as the few free teaser clips that you’d uploaded elsewhere. There you were, a vibrator on your clit in one clip, your fingers teasing your own nipples as you moaned for the camera.

He slammed the laptop shut. No, he told himself. No more obsessions. If you manage to make this work, all she’ll be to you is a colleague, a coworker.

Don’t be a creep.

He got out of bed and made it to the bathroom, where he stripped, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and turned on the shower. A cold shower would do the trick, he figured. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried the method, but it was the best he could think of. He could scrub away all thoughts of you, get rid of his hard-on, and call it a night.

He shivered as the cold water hit him. It felt fucking awful, cold water on his skin when all he wanted was warmth, but he toughed it out, waiting for his “problem” to resolve itself.

But it was no use. All he could think about was the sound of you moaning in that video, gorgeous lips parted, legs spread. He couldn’t help but wish he could hear you moan for real, not the fake sort of moans that are exaggerated for the camera.

He gave up after a while and got out, wrapping his lower body in a towel as he did a walk of shame back to his bed. He sat on the towel and reopened his laptop.

He found your OnlyFans page, and without thinking, he subscribed. He wasn’t sure if you could see his username if he used his official account, so he made another guest account. You were worth the inconvenience. He started to scroll. He saw a clip of you and Allison, you grinding against her thigh. Another clip showed you edging yourself into oblivion, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. That was the clip he finally settled on.

He edged himself along with the video, stopping whenever you stopped. If your hand stopped moving, so would his. In his mind, it felt almost like mutual masturbation, like you were really there doing this with him. He imagined you watching him, murmuring praise to him.

It wasn’t often that he got off without toys, not because he couldn’t, but because he was almost always filming his orgasms, and thus toys were usually involved. Despite not having any added vibration or stimulation, he came harder simply from touching himself while watching your videos than he had in months.

He laid there afterward, his own cum on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. You’re absolutely hopeless, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t stop now. Not when you were so close.

It took Wilbur three days to work up the courage to text you, and from then on, conversation flowed naturally. At first, it was small talk about the industry—which people did you know, how many parties had you been to, what sort of content were you interested in making, and on and on and on. Wilbur was honest, admitting his lack of experience in the world of sex work, although he didn’t admit his lack of sexual experience in general. If he did, he might scare you off or make you hesitant, and he didn’t want that.

Conversation then turned to more personal matters. Still surface level, yes, but less detached than talks of industry and networking. He learned that you were a camgirl on the side, using the funds to add to the money you made from waitressing as you saved up. He also learned your favorite restaurant in the city (which he offered to take you to sometime, delighted when you accepted the offer) as well as your favorite bands, books, movies…all the surface-level questions he could hope to get answers for.

To his dismay, two weeks of texts went by without you mentioning possibly meeting up to film together. Just when he thought that was off the table and this would only amount to friendship, his phone buzzed as he was working on an essay. He picked it up, assuming it would be either one of his parents or a spam call, and grinned when he saw your name. You were requesting a FaceTime call, so he quickly smoothed his hair before answering.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully. Wilbur was so relieved to see your face, not just on your OnlyFans, but you, you choosing for him to see you. You looked like you were fresh out of the shower, and he realized quickly that you weren’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t see anything below your shoulders, but the realization still had him speechless for a moment before he regained his composure.

“Hi!” he said back with equal cheerfulness. “How’re you?” He flicked on another light in his apartment so that you could see him better.

“Good,” you replied. A moment of silence passed. “Listen, are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah, why?” The truth was, Wilbur wasn’t free Saturday. He was in a study group for an upcoming exam, but at that moment, he decided that he didn’t give a shit. He would happily flunk an exam if it meant getting to spend more time with you. He had only seen you in person once, and only for a tiny moment in time, and all he had thought about since then was getting more.

“I have a business idea,” you said. Wilbur watched as you sat down on a couch at what must be your apartment. He caught a glimpse of the top of a towel wrapped around your torso, and although this thought made him slightly disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Still, his disappointment only lasted a second once your words sunk in.

“A business idea?” He immediately perked up. “What is it?” His mind went wild with possibilities. A livestream? Some short clips? A whole homemade porn film?

“So…your online persona is more on the submissive side, right?” you asked.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “How did you know?” Although the two of you had talked about the industry, bonded over creeps on the internet and the like, the details of your content had gone mostly undiscussed.

He noticed the rather sheepish expression on your face. “I may have done some research,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to fight to keep himself calm. You had done research on him? That meant you had definitely seen some of his content, and not only that, but seeing his content made you more interested. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anybody else, he wouldn’t have cared, but you? You, the subject of his obsession (he’d finally admitted to himself that’s what it was), the person he thought of every night before going to bed, thought he was desirable? Maybe not desirable, but at least worthy of seeing, worthy of working with. That was enough.

“It’s not weird!” he reassured you. “I…I may have done the same.” He did not tell you that he had a whole folder on his laptop that was only clips of you, that he’d labeled each video, that he’d gotten himself off to every single one. He definitely didn’t tell you that while filming himself the day prior, he’d been thinking of you the entire time. No, that was too much. That was creepy, that was obsession…but based on your admission, he figured a bit of the truth couldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, you reacted positively. “Thank god,” you said, laughing softly. “I thought you’d think I was a pervert.”

“No! No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I would never.” He settled his back against the headboard of his bed. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”

“Well, as I was saying,” you continued, “your persona is more on the submissive side. I portray myself as more dominant. Very convenient for us, no?” Wilbur nodded along as you spoke. “I was wondering…” You trailed off. “I can be forward with you, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it that way.”

“Great! How do you feel about getting pegged?” A moment of silence passed as Wilbur’s brain completely short-circuited. He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until you spoke again. “Okay, uh…maybe I was too blunt.” He heard your awkward laugh through the phone.

“No! No, not too blunt at all. I’m fine with it,” he replied. “Yeah, no, that sounds great.” He tried to hide the nervous undertone to his voice. Using toys on himself is one thing; being on the receiving end of someone else’s movements is another. “I’d be down for that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You were quiet for a moment, there.”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m completely sure,” Wilbur replied. “You want to, um, livestream that? Or are we just filming…?”

“Just filming,” you replied. “Having sex live is way more complicated. This way, we can try a couple different angles to see what looks best on camera.”

“Right.” Wilbur took a deep breath. “That sounds good. You said Saturday?”

“Saturday, yeah,” you responded. “And I was thinking we do it at my place. No offense, I’m sure your setup is nice, but I’ve been in the game a bit longer. I’ve probably got nicer gear.”

“That’s great. Sounds good.” Wilbur’s nerves kicked up a few more notches. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He was going to walk in, immediately get hard just looking at your setup (which was already somewhat familiar to him) and look like a loser. He tried to shove that thought away.

Thankfully, it seemed that you sensed his discomfort. “Listen, uh…I know that you’ve only done something like this once,” you said. “If you ever change your mind, you can leave. I won’t judge you for that, even if we’re in the middle of filming. Consent rules don’t magically go away when there are cameras rolling.”

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his chest. You were smiling warmly at him over FaceTime, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you. His thoughts weren’t sexual, at least not in the moment.

His mind wandered. When was the last time he’d been held by somebody? He’d never once been held by somebody who liked him romantically. He wasn’t sure that anyone outside his family had ever so much as hugged him. The thought made him dizzy. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me. It’s basic decency.” You continued smiling at him. “Oh, we don’t have a time set. Does one work?”

“One is fine,” Wilbur replied. “I’m totally cool with one.”

“Sounds good. Saturday at one, then,” you said. “Be ready to film.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wilbur promised. He just hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

He spent the rest of the week panicking. He shoved himself into schoolwork, studying, finishing up the essay that you had distracted him from. On Saturday morning, he woke up, shaved, took a shower, blow-dried his hair and got dressed. He knew that the clothes would be coming off, but he tried to dress somewhat nice anyway. He figured that even his nicest jeans and a button-up would be fine. He kept reminding himself that a business encounter was all this interaction would be.

Around noon, he got a text from you:

Hey ;) ready to film?

He quickly replied.

Born ready. Send your address?

The next message contained your address. He took a deep breath, brushed his teeth (for the third time that day) and set off. He left his apartment, got into his car, and started driving.

He put on a playlist on the way there, one he had made containing music from your favorite bands. He kept constantly checking himself in the mirror to the point where he realized he would hit something if he didn’t stop. He was an absolute wreck of nerves.

He pulled into the apartment parking lot and got out of his car. He walked into the building, took the elevator…

And there was your door. He stepped toward it and hesitantly knocked three times. The wait was agonizing. He stood outside the door for a minute before you opened it.

“Sorry!” you said. “I was in the middle of getting the lighting set up. Come in!”

“No worries.” He followed you inside. Your apartment was immaculately clean, with enough decorations to add character without being overwhelming. He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it took a lot to keep himself calm the second he stepped through the door. The whole place smelled like you, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He looked at the setup, and it was honestly impressive. You had a professional-level camera setup, multiple lights, and cameras at various angles. “This is…wow,” he said. “You know your shit.”

“I’m a professional.” You winked at him as you adjusted the angle on one of the cameras. “Okay, so…a bit unconventional, but we’re going to do a test of sorts to make sure that the angles on the cameras are correct. Is that alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “As you said, you’re the professional. I’ll let you call the shots.” He had no idea what a “test” would entail, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stood off to the side, watching you as you worked. Your white tank top left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Great.” You adjusted one of the lights, lowering it slightly. “What do you think? Too bright in here?”

Come to think of it, it was a little blinding. “Maybe a bit softer,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea.” You nodded in agreement and dimmed the lights. “Better?”

“Better.” Wilbur took a few deep breaths. “We good to go?”

“Good to go.” You sat on the bed, examining the angles from your sitting point, clearly trying to decide if they were any good. “Yeah, definitely good to go.”

“Okay, then.” Wilbur stood there awkwardly. “What, um, what do I do?”

“Like I said, I want to test the angles before we start actually filming.” Wilbur watched as you pressed record on all the cameras. “I figure we just experiment with a few positions, see how the camera captures it. You can stay dressed if you want—-like I said, this is just a test.”

“Alright,” Wilbur murmured. He sat on the bed and nearly froze when you cupped his cheek. His face was so close to yours that he could barely breathe.

“You still okay with this?” you asked, searching him for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. This was terrifying, but the thought of walking away was even scarier. “Good.” Mere seconds later, you pressed your lips to his.

It took him a second to kiss back, but once he started, he never wanted to stop. Your lips were soft against his, just testing the waters at first. He had no idea where to put his hands, but he didn’t have to think about it for long, as you quickly pushed him onto his back. He made a small noise as you got on top of him and continued kissing him.

Wilbur didn’t consider himself a good kisser. It wasn’t like he had much experience. The kisses became rushed and sloppy, and just as he started to settle into the rhythm, you were getting off of him and checking the camera footage. He sat there, dazed, as you made your way around the edge of the bed, checking what the cameras picked up. You were explaining something about the process, something about lighting and shadow and…whatever else, Wilbur wasn’t listening. He could still taste you, still feel your lips against his.

He only snapped back to reality when you approached the side of the bed again. “You still okay with the pegging thing?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel how hard he was, the slight friction against his jeans, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. Who cared if this was just for work, just for content? He was about to have you, and having you in any capacity was better than not having you at all.

“Alright, then.” He watched as you opened a nearby dresser. “I have a couple things that you can choose from…” You pulled out a box and set it on the edge of the bed. He scooted closer as you opened it, his throat catching at the array of items. “These are all the toys I have that are compatible with the harness,” you explained. “I’d rather us not start filming until the main event, so to speak. We can get you all prepped before that.”

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Sounds good,” he choked out. He glanced over the collection of toys. Some of them were definitely too big for him, so he avoided them. His eyes finally landed on a pink dildo, just slightly bigger than the one he’d used in a recent clip. “That one, maybe?” He pointed.

“Good choice,” you said. “Just got this one.” You picked it out of the box and laid it on the bed. Wilbur’s eyes stayed on you as he watched you gather more stuff—-the strap-on harness, some lube, a buttplug. You went about it with the precision of a doctor gathering medical supplies. It was both hot and slightly unnerving.

“Do we have everything?” Wilbur asked. He shifted slightly, both to get comfortable and because it was difficult to sit still when he was so close to you.

“Yep! We’re set.” You sat back down on the bed close to him. He shuddered as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” Wilbur confirmed. He closed his eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, less sloppy this time, less desperate. He wanted to be able to contain himself, at least a little. He didn’t know what you’d think of him if he appeared too needy.

Your gentle hands pushed him backward, and he laid down on your soft mattress, eyes unfocused as he looked up at you. He pulled you in for another kiss, and whined as your tongue found his. The sound was pathetic in his mind, but it seemed to spur you on further. He gasped as you grinded against him. Even though it was only the tiniest bit of friction, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt. His hands wandered to your waist, sliding under your tank top. It was the boldest thing Wilbur had done so far, and he was more than pleased when you leaned further into his touch.

A moment later, your lips left his. He frowned for only a split second before realizing why. When he opened his eyes, your hands were brushing against his as you took off your tank top, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

He stared. He couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch all of it—-your stomach, your bare waist, your chest. It was almost too much. His cheeks went red as he heard you laugh softly. “Enjoying the view?” you teased.

“Oh! Um…sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forced his eyes upward, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. To his surprise, there was no sign of disgust or embarrassment on your face, only amusement. “You’re just gorgeous. Couldn’t help it.”

“Of course I am. How else would I have gotten this job?” You smirked down at him, and he managed to laugh despite his nerves. “In all seriousness,” you said, “thank you. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

It was one of the more tame comments he’d gotten in recent times, but it was by far the best. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice coming out as a squeak. Before he could apologize for that, you were kissing him again. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, and he helped you take it off without hesitation. His mind went blank as your hands wandered his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen and chest. He returned the favor, letting his hands wander a little. He held back, not squeezing or grasping, just lightly touching.

You slid out of your shorts, and Wilbur fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once he undid that, you got his zipper for him. You lifted yourself up for a moment so that Wilbur could remove his jeans. He shivered as his bare skin met the cool air of your room, then frowned as you got off of him. “We should get you ready,” you said. He nodded, finally removing his boxers.

He let them fall to the side of the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, but you didn’t seem to be judging him for it. In fact, you were focused instead on putting lube on your fingers, occasionally glancing at Wilbur. He shivered, parted his legs without you asking. He laid there for a moment, staring at your ceiling, trying to calm himself. He only had a moment before you were back, settled down beside him. “You ready?” he heard you ask. He could only nod in response.

He felt a finger press inside of him, and he sighed. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he let himself revel in the feeling. For once, he had someone else’s fingers, someone else’s touch. Of course, only one finger wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a perfect start. He moaned quietly as you moved your finger in and out, slowly, almost teasingly. He spread his legs further for you, and you scooted closer. At one point, your finger curled just enough that it brushed against his prostate, and the moan that he let out was downright desperate. He clasped his hand over his mouth, only for you to move it away. “Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured. He couldn’t even process your words before you brushed his prostate again, and he nearly moaned even louder.

“More?” he questioned. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” You slid in another finger and he whined. It was then that a thought occurred to him.

When he used his own fingers or his own toys, he never properly prepped himself. Not ever. It always hurt a little bit, since for him, he was always doing it just for the camera. It made him realize how much he neglected himself when it came to his job, never truly considering his own boundaries or what felt good to him. And yet, here you were, and it didn’t hurt with you at all. Even though this was just for work, just for content, you were being more considerate and gentle with him than he was with himself. He made a mental note to thank you later.

In the meantime, your fingers curled against his prostate, and he let himself moan and whine, gripping at the sheets and breathing heavily. He let his mind go empty, let himself fully relax, let himself be yours even if only for a moment in time. He felt it as you switched between brushing against his prostate and prepping his hole, gently stretching your fingers to spread him a little wider each time. “This feel okay?” you asked.

Wilbur nodded, unable to speak properly. You continued your movements, and Wilbur continued his moans. Your fingers were gone all too soon. Wilbur gasped a few times and forced his hazy vision to focus. “All good?” he asked, a little concerned. He watched as you wiped your hand off with a wet wipe before tossing the wipe in a bedside trash can.

“All good,” you replied. “You feeling ready? I grabbed a plug just in case you wanted to use that for more prep, but if you’re feeling good, I say we go for it.”

“I’m good to just go for it,” Wilbur said. To his surprise, his voice was a lot more steady than it had been. Something about your presence was calming, even in a situation like this that Wilbur had no experience with. He watched as you got the harness ready and strapped it on. Okay, maybe the dildo was a little bigger than he’d originally thought, but he would be fine. He hoped. “Thank you for, um, helping me get ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I help? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said. You finished putting on the harness before coating the strap in more lube than was probably necessary, just for good measure. “The nice thing about not working for some big porn company is that we get to do things in our own time. We’re not rushing to fit some director’s schedule.”

Wilbur nodded. “Right.” He’d heard varying things about being in professional pornos from various people in the industry. Experiences ranged from incredibly negative to incredibly positive, depending on the company, the director and any number of other factors. Wilbur was grateful to be making enough money on his own to make this venture worth his while. It was nice not having to risk mistreatment. “Still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched as you pressed “record” on each of the cameras. You turned back to him, your expression focused, methodical. “Ready?”

Wilbur nodded. “Ready. Um…safeword?” He definitely didn’t plan on using it, but it was always better to be safe.

“Is the stoplight system good with you?” Wilbur nodded. He’d never used it, but he knew what it was. “Perfect,” you replied. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” You smirked, and Wilbur grinned back. All the nerves were gone, replaced with excitement and focus. The cameras were rolling. Time to put on a show.

Wilbur wiggled his hips slightly, getting comfortable as well as a bit closer to you. He glanced at one of the cameras and shifted a little so that it would catch his facial expressions better. His eyes quickly went back to you. He felt your hands on his thighs. “You gonna be good for me?” you asked, your voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He figured it was just for the cameras.

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said, slightly exaggerating the tremble in his voice. From the look in your eyes, you approved. “I-I’ll be good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Your hands ran up and down his thighs, causing him to tremble and shiver. “Then be a good boy, and tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” he said. He realized then that he was being too quiet for the cameras to pick up, but thankfully, you saved the scene.

“A little louder, sweetheart. I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me,” Wilbur said, a little louder. “Please.” Despite the fact that it was just an act, he knew that the way you called him sweetheart would be playing on repeat in his head for weeks to come, if not months. His obsession was certainly deep enough for that.

“Good boy.” He felt the tip of the strap press into him, and he gasped. “Aw, already too much?” You asked teasingly.

He shook his head frantically. “No. Not—-not enough. Need more. Please…” He tried to scoot closer to you, to get more, but you shook your head.

“You only get what I give you. Understood?” He nodded. “Good boy.” You continued pressing the strap into him, painfully slow, giving him a chance to adjust to the size of it.

He whined, trying not to arch his back or move too much. Instead, his hands gripped at the sheets. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, right in the view of the camera to show off his face contorted with pleasure. His viewers always liked that; he figured that yours might as well. “Fuck,” he gasped out. “You’re so…so big…”

“Too much for you? Or are you gonna be good and take it?” You pushed the rest of the way in, and despite feeling fuller than he’d ever felt, not an ounce of pain came with it. Wilbur was grateful for that.

“I can be good,” Wilbur promised. “I can take it. I swear I can be good and take it.” He whined as you shifted your hips a little, and his hands went to grasp at your back. “Please. Please start moving. I need—-I need you.” Not even Wilbur could tell at this point where the genuinity ended and the act began.

You grinned. “You’ve been good so far. I feel like you’ve earned a reward.” You started shifting your hips, slow but deep thrusts that had him reeling. You weren’t quite getting his prostate, and he suspected that it was on purpose, you wanting to draw this out longer for the cameras.

Wilbur tilted his head back slightly. His eyes fell half-closed, and he peeked out at you from beneath his lashes. He let his lips remain parted. He suppressed his moans, opting instead for gasps and grunts. It would make better content, he figured, if he could start small and build up to it. It was taking a lot of effort to hold back.

“More?” he asked meekly, trying to make his voice loud enough for the cameras, yet quiet enough to keep up the submissive appearance. Although, he supposed it was more than an appearance. With some time, practice and confidence, maybe he’d be able to play a different role. For now, this is what it was. His body trembled slightly with the nerves and the sensations.

“Hm? What was that?” Your movements slowed down a little, much to Wilbur’s dismay. “Did you just ask something of me without saying please?” You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. “You remember when I told you that you only get what I give you, right?”

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sighed as you ruffled his hair, his brown eyes wide and gazing up at you full of desperation. “I promise.”

“Then say please,” you replied. “You can say please, can’t you, baby?”

Wilbur nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “C-can I please have more?” he asks.

“More what?” you asked innocently. Your hips continued rocking back and forth, so languidly that it was frustrating. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“I-I want it harder,” Wilbur replied. “F-faster. Please? Please, I need it.” With every passing moment, Wilbur became less and less aware of the cameras picking up his every move. If he focused hard enough, he could pretend that this wasn’t all an act. It was a dangerous game, pretending that way, but as time passed, he cared less and less.

“I guess I can give you what you want,” you said nonchalantly. “If you promise to be good.” Your movements picked up speed, hips thrusting slightly faster but just as shallowly. You weren’t thrusting all the way to the hilt, but Wilbur did his best to be patient despite wanting it desperately.

“I promise,” he panted out. “Please. I’ll be good.”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Wilbur felt a shiver go down his spine, and his shivers immediately turned to gasps as your thrusts got harder, faster, more forceful. He tried to tilt his hips a little, make you brush against his prostate, but you refused to comply, still avoiding the spot entirely. He let out a whine, high-pitched and needy. It was almost embarrassing, but based on the way you only smirked wider and picked up the pace, it was clear that you weren’t about to judge him for it.

Wilbur let himself get a little louder. He was tempted to cup your face, to run his fingers gently along your sides. He almost did before remembering that this wasn’t real. You didn’t love him. This was just sex. His second time ever, with someone he’d been crushing on obsessively, and none of it was even real. Despite how good he felt physically, he started to feel like shit mentally. The thoughts combined with your movements caused him to tear up a little bit, much to his embarrassment. He felt his eyes burn a little, and he glanced away from your face, trying to hide it.

It was no use. You saw. “Color?” you asked softly, too quiet for the cameras to pick up properly. Your eyes held a somewhat concerned expression. Immediately, Wilbur felt bad for upsetting you.

“Green,” he replied easily. “I’m okay. Promise.” He even managed a small smile.

You nodded, the worry slowly melting from your face. He moaned as your movements picked up speed again, and then whined as you finally, finally, hit his prostate. His moans got increasingly loud as you continued hitting that spot with every thrust of your hips, burying yourself inside of him to the hilt of your strap. He looked down between his legs as best he could, watching you move in and out of him. He could only look for a moment before having to tilt his head back and whine once again.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “So desperate for my cock, huh?”

“Y-yes.” Wilbur gripped the sheets with one hand and your shoulder with the other. “Please, please, please don’t stop.” His voice came out sounding whiny and pathetic, wobbling with every word.

“You’re doing so good,” you replied. “Taking me so well.” Wilbur moaned once more as you gripped his hips, using the hold as leverage to help you thrust harder.

He could feel himself getting close. He noticed how much pre-cum he was leaking, small drops of it dripping down his cock. “S-so close,” he whined. His hand subconsciously went to his length, but you quickly pulled his hand away.

“Not without my permission,” you chided him. He gasped as you continued your movements.

“Please,” he said desperately. “Please, I need…fuck, I need you to touch me. Please.”

You grinned and wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly pumping him up and down. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan. After just a few movements of your hand, his hips were twitching. He let out a series of swears and pleas, his words nearly incoherent as he finished, cum coating your hand and his stomach. You murmured soft words of praise, but he could barely register them.

His vision was hazy as you stopped moving. He gasped for air, panting. He felt numb and overstimulated all at once. His hand that was gripping the sheets slowly loosened its grip, and he let his hand fall from your side. “Thank you,” he murmured. His throat felt scratchy and dry.

“You were such a good boy,” you said, running a hand down his hip to his thigh. You pulled out, and he gasped at the feeling. You leaned in close to him, your faces inches apart. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?” He nodded eagerly before you pulled away.

He watched as you turned off the cameras, and he finally let himself relax, laying down fully on the bed. His gaze went from you to the ceiling before he closed his eyes. He needed a break, a few moments to collect himself, to come back to reality. His eyes still burned, and he let a few tears escape down his cheeks. How could something so pleasurable also be so painful?

He laid there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t get over the thought that this wasn’t enough, that he needed more of you, and he needed it to be real. It was as if all his years of loneliness were catching up to him at once. Every night that he wished someone would hold him, every day that he’d spent pining after people who would never love him back…not to mention the constant self-loathing that came from the small amount of self awareness that he had, the awareness that he was a creep who nobody could ever love.

Wilbur heard you as you took off the harness before walking over to his side. “You alright?” you asked. Your voice was soft, concerned. “Was I too rough with you? Do you want some water, or maybe something to eat?”

Wilbur opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “Um…water would be good. And no, you weren’t too rough with me.” He wiped his tears off his cheeks and managed a smile. “You were a lot less rough with me than I am with myself, honestly.”

You grinned back at him. “Okay, I’ll get you some water. If you want to clean yourself up, the bathroom is to the right of the entrance to my room. There are washcloths in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thanks,” he said. Some warm water to help wipe the sweat off him sounded almost magical. “I’ll go do that.” He slowly got off the bed, feeling a little shaky. Your kindness and the sweet sound of your voice had taken away some of his pain, but the loneliness lingered in his mind like an ever-present itch that he couldn’t reach the source of.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you called after him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

He used the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and was about to head back to your room when something caught his eye. You had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, and on top of the pile of laundry, nearly blended in with the surrounding fabric, was a pair of black underwear.

He immediately beat himself up for even thinking about taking it…but god, it was tempting. He would have something of you always, something you’d touched. More than just touched. He could keep it in his room, with his things, a little souvenir.

The only other souvenir he’d ever kept was from the girl he was obsessed with in high school. She had once torn out a page of notes and dropped them in the trash can, and he had fished it out and kept it. Of course, he’d thrown it out after she’d called him out for being a creep.

Never had he had something like this. But he quickly realized that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it. He was naked, so it wasn’t like there was a pocket to hide it in.

He pushed away the disappointment and left the bathroom. It was better this way, better that he not have the opportunity to do what he wanted. Despite knowing that it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel upset by it.

He re-entered your room, where you were sitting on the bed. You’d changed out the duvet, and there was a glass of water on the nightstand for him. You were dressed again in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he felt more exposed than ever. You turned when you heard him enter, and immediately, he was given a smile. “Feeling better?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled back. “Much better, thanks.” He glanced around and saw his clothing on the floor. “I’m just gonna…”

Your eyes flitted to the pile of his clothes. “Right. Good idea.” You then glanced at the dresser in the corner of your room. “Hold on, I have something you can wear instead of that uncomfortable button-up you were wearing.”

Wilbur was about to protest and say that the button-up was fine (despite the fact that it was cheap and a little itchy in reality), but he quickly shut his mouth and worked on getting his jeans and boxers on. If you had something for him to wear, something that was yours, that would be a dream come true. He watched you as you shuffled through a drawer.

“Here it is,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. He saw as you picked up a t-shirt, one that was definitely too big for you. “I have this extra shirt. I accidentally ordered a few sizes too big, so you can have it if you want.” You tossed it over to Wilbur, and he caught it.

It was a band t-shirt. Wilbur recognized the band as one of your favorites. “Are you sure?” he asked. The material was soft in his hands, and Wilbur swore that it smelled like you.

“Yeah, I’m never going to wear it. It’s yours.”

Wilbur held it like it was precious. He examined it before sliding it on. It fit him well, not too loose but not too tight. He looked over at you and immediately noticed that you were looking right back at him. “It fits really well,” Wilbur said. “Thank you. This is much better than my other shirt.”

“No kidding,” you replied. “That thing felt like it was awful to wear.” You paused. “Plus, you look good in it.”

Wilbur could hardly believe it. You had complimented his appearance twice. In one day. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I, um, appreciate it.” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and sat down in order to steady himself. He took a sip, immediately feeling refreshed. He hadn’t realized how dry his throat felt.

“Anytime.” You sat beside him on the bed. “Can I…ask you something serious?”

Wilbur put down the glass and turned his full attention to you. He saw the slight concern in your expression, and his small smile quickly faded. “Sure. What’s up?”

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. “Are you okay? I know that you said you were alright, but you seem a little shaken up still. I’m just a bit worried.”

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. On the one hand, he could be honest. At least, a little bit honest. You didn’t need to know the full truth. On the other hand, he could insist that he was fine. He worked through the options in his mind, and settled on a half-truth.

“I, uh, have never been pegged before,” he said. “This was my first time. I think I just got a little overwhelmed is all.” He paused, and when he saw your expression grow more concerned, quickly added, “But I’m fine! Really, you were great. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was a good first time. A great first time.” He could feel his cheeks get slightly hot, but he did his best to stay relaxed.

You looked surprised, your eyes slightly wide. “You…you got pegged for the first time, just now, on camera?” You shook your head, a barely noticeable movement. “That’s…brave. I’ve never done something for the first time on camera.”

“Yeah…yeah, I probably should’ve prepared beforehand,” Wilbur said. “But I just figured…it’s not like I’ve never done anything anal on my own. I figured it would be fine, and it was.”

“But you looked upset,” you said.

“Just overwhelmed,” Wilbur replied. “I promise it’s okay.” The last thing he wanted to do was deter you by making you feel bad. Besides, it really wasn’t your fault.

“Wilbur…” You looked away, pausing as if considering what to say. “Allison showed me a short clip the other day of that video you two filmed, and…and I don’t know if it was just an act, but I got the feeling that you were very new to what you were doing.” You looked back at him, and he felt the intense desire to disappear, to change the subject, because how could he admit how little experience he had without being intensely embarrassed? “Was that…did you ever have sex before that?”

Once again, Wilbur had the choice between honesty or a lie. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he wanted to try for more with you—more than just friendship, and definitely more than business partners. The terrifying thing was this: if he wanted that, truly wanted that, then he would have to be honest with you at some point.

“...No,” Wilbur said, barely audible. He avoided eye contact. “I was, um, too nervous to tell her that it was my first time. I wanted to do a collab, so I just didn’t say anything.” He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “I…maybe I was wrong to do that. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to wait around for things to happen for real, because I need the money now, not later, and…and it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, so…” He shrugged, hoping that the explanation was enough.

“And…and was it good?” you asked. “Like, was it a good first time for you? Did you enjoy it?”

Wilbur thought back to it. Allison was nice, sure. She was amenable, very understanding when it came to the fact that Wilbur was new in the industry. And yeah, Wilbur had finished that first time with her, but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t say it was enjoyable. It wasn’t enjoyable, being with somebody he had no connection with. It wasn’t enjoyable knowing that this incredibly vulnerable moment of his life was being livestreamed in real time, and it definitely wasn’t enjoyable that his first time was done for profit rather than for the experience, for the fun.

“I mean, does anyone enjoy their first times?” Wilbur managed to dodge the question, but his eyes still didn’t meet yours.

“Yeah! Well…I don’t know. They’re generally not good in the sense of being physically pleasurable, but they don’t have to be awful,” you said. “I just…I can’t imagine doing that in front of a camera, streamed live like that. And it sounds to me like you did it because you didn’t feel like you had any other choice.”

Wilbur finally looked up at you, scared of a reprimand, scared of your judgment. But all he saw in your expression was worry and kindness. “I…I’ve just never really had the opportunity,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been in a proper relationship. I kissed a girl, like, once in high school, but that was it. And then not again until Allison. I just wanted to get it over with, to feel…I don’t know. Normal, I guess. Desirable. Like…like someone wanted me.”

The second the words came out, Wilbur was mortified. He’d never told anyone any of this, and the fact that he’d told you of all people, the second time he’d ever spoken to you in person, made him wish he could turn back time and erase this entire conversation.

He felt you gently take his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said, “that things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked.”

Wilbur looked down at his hand, gently wrapped in yours, and he gave it a small squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t awful.”

“Still,” you said. “It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He watched as you let go of his hand, hiding his disappointment. “Anyway, um…I’m sorry to unload all that on you,” he said, his self awareness returning to him.

“It’s fine, Wil. We’re friends, and I wouldn't have said what I said if I wasn’t prepared for a response,” you said. “Really, it’s okay.”

He could hear the softness in your voice, the hint of concern. It nearly made him cry again, just knowing that somebody cared about him at all. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I really appreciate it.” The words felt so tame in comparison to what he wanted to say, but all the words he could think of seemed too much. He couldn’t believe that you’d referred to him as a friend, that you wanted to continue associating with him. It seemed too good to be true.

One thing was certain: it would take a lot of willpower to make this obsession go away, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he had it in him to let you go.

To Wilbur’s absolute delight, his time with you didn’t end there. After filming, he stayed for dinner. He ate pizza with you on your couch, watching a cheesy 80s movie and making fun of the special effects. Admittedly, he watched you far more than he watched the film, and he felt shivers every time you looked his way.

Over the course of the next week, he messaged you every day. Sometimes, it was because he messaged first, and other times, you were the one to reach out. He forced himself to exercise some restraint, to not be too eager. You made it difficult. Many of the texts were about the video, you giving Wilbur updates on the editing progress. At the end of the week, it went live. Wilbur was notified by your message:

Done! Let’s see how this goes

Wilbur grinned, swallowing back all the anxiety that he felt. What if it was bad? What if people didn’t like it? What if his inexperience showed on camera?

He shoved it all down and sent a reply.

Sweet

After a moment, he was struck both by how boring his last message was and how great of an opportunity this presented him with.

Want to celebrate tonight? Drinks on me?

He waited anxiously for a reply. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed with no response, until finally, your name appeared on his screen.

How about that bar a block from my place? You know the one?

Wilbur did, in fact, know the one. He’d passed it on the drive to your apartment.

I know it. Send the address and I’ll be there

Eight?

He smiled.

Eight sounds perfect :)

Once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He left early to make sure that he was there in time and that you wouldn’t be stuck waiting for him. The cab ride to the bar felt like it took a million years, and when he got there, you were sitting at the bar waiting for him.

The bar was packed. There was music blasting over the speakers, some pop song that Wilbur couldn’t place, though he’d heard it over the radio a million times. He sat beside you at the bar. “Hey!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

You greeted him with equal enthusiasm. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he said, grinning. He could already feel his cheeks get warm, although whether it was from the crowded bar or his proximity to you, he couldn’t tell. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Only about five minutes,” you replied. “But I got here early. Still waiting for the bartender.”

“Perfect.” Wilbur glanced at his surroundings. The scene reminded him of when he’d first met you. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a month. “Is the video doing well?” It was too early to draw many conclusions, of course, but he was curious.

“Holy shit, you have no idea,” you said, grinning. “People love the video. Already, I’m getting messages asking for more of it.” You seemed proud of yourself, and Wilbur couldn’t blame you. You’d done most of the work, after all.

He could feel his heart pounding. People loved it, which meant that you would probably want to do it again. More time spent with you, more excuses to see you…it all sounded perfect. “So when is part two?” Wilbur asks. “If people love it, I mean…we should probably get to filming more material, right?”

Your smile faltered, and his heart immediately sank. Of course. Of course it was all too good to be true, too perfect to be real. He should have known better. When you finally spoke, Wilbur was already bracing himself for rejection. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said. Before Wilbur could say anything, you continued. “Not because I don’t like you, okay? I…I won’t lie, it was fun. I’m just…”

“You can be honest,” Wilbur said, so quietly that he could barely be heard over the sounds of chatter and music. “If you don’t like me and don’t want to do it again, that’s okay. I get it.” He knew that he sounded pathetic and self-deprecating, but he had no clue what else to say.

“Wil, I just said that it wasn’t because I don’t like you,” you said. “Please take my word for it.” Wilbur nodded, slightly embarrassed. “The reason I don’t want to film more is because I’m a little worried about you.”

Oh. In a way, that was a relief to hear. It meant that you didn’t dislike him. On the other hand, he was terrified. Did you see him as pathetic? He wouldn’t blame you, but it was still a blow to his ego. “...Why?” he finally asked.

“I just…” You sighed. “You were literally crying, Wil. It was concerning. And I’m not saying that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t, I just think that…” You laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding insensitive.”

Wilbur froze. You were going to call him a creep, pathetic, a loser. He just knew it. “Just say it,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You have some things to sort out,” you said finally. “This type of job can ruin you if you don’t have the self-esteem to handle it. I’ve seen it before. People go into it feeling like shit about themselves, and then all the validation they get is purely sexual, and it fucks with them when they don’t get that validation anymore. It can be hard to separate your sense of self from your sex appeal, you know? But you have to.”

Wilbur took a deep breath. That was somehow worse than anything he’d anticipated you saying. He wasn’t a creep in your eyes, maybe, but he was broken. He had low self-esteem. You saw him as something to be pitied, and that was a hard pill to swallow. He kept opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He finally gave up. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You went quiet. It was only until the bartender showed up that you spoke again, ordering some drink that Wilbur couldn’t make out the name of due to being lost in his own thoughts. When you asked him what he wanted, he replied with water. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

After the bartender left, Wilbur felt your eyes on him. “Yeah?” he questioned. “What?”

“Did you actually listen to what I said?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did.”

“Wilbur…”

“I get it,” Wilbur said quickly. “I know that I’m…that I’ve based my whole life around this, and I know that it’s concerning, and I get it. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Take a break,” you suggested.

“I need the money.”

“Okay, well, go back to solo content for a bit. Because I think you need a moment to think things through.”

It didn’t sound so bad, actually, going back to doing things alone for a while. As long as he still had you in some capacity, maybe it would turn out okay. “Alright,” he said. “I could do that.”

“Good.” You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink before turning back to Wilbur. “I think it would be good for you.”

“Probably,” he admitted. He sipped his water, trying to enjoy your presence despite the war of emotions he had going on. It took him a moment for him to ask the question that he wanted to ask. “...Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “I just think you need some time off.”

He accepted the answer, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. “I’m sorry if this is…weird,” he said carefully. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date sometime. Like, a proper date, not…”

“An amateur porn filming session?”

“Right. That.” Wilbur felt his hands trembling. “Um…we could go out to dinner sometime. Wherever you want.” He felt dizzy, his breathing shallow and his heart pounding way too fast. “If you want to.”

You took an agonizingly slow sip of your drink. “I’d like that,” you said finally. You smiled at him, and it was like everything falling into place. Wilbur could breathe. You hadn’t rejected him.

And soon enough, he would have you, one way or another.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #simpbur #saccharine writes

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drunkenskunk · 11 months ago

Text

There's a project related to my interest in Warhammer that I've wanted to do for quite some time, but I know I'll never get the chance to actually do it. At least, not properly. And it involves... I think "historical preservation" is probably the best word for it?

See, I like to occasionally sift through my collection of old "out of date" rulebooks and army codex books from earlier editions of 40k. The sort of things that have been out of print for many years. Games Workshop hasn't sold these books in 2 or 3 decades, and they've all been supplanted by the current rules. And I do this because I think it's interesting to see how the game - in both crunch and fluff - has changed since 1987.

More beyond the break...

For example: the different ways the galaxy has been depicted in 40k between the different editions. In the first rulebook, when it was still called Rogue Trader, all we got was a small, almost abstract, image on the bottom of the page. The 2nd edition rulebook that came out in October 1993 (specifically, the Codex Imperialis book) had a two page spread, but it was also very abstract with a few notes, but no real detail to speak of. As far as I can tell, the first time we got a map of the galaxy with the segmentum divisions that we're all accustomed to now came from a very unexpected place: the very first Tyranid codex that came out in August 1995.

Of course, my copy of the 2nd Edition book is a very poor quality black and white scan. Those segmentum divisions could genuinely be there, and I just can't see it. Not to mention, it's entirely possible that a map with segmentum divisions first premiered in an issue of White Dwarf first, because GW liked to do stuff like that in the old days where you'd see it in the hobby magazine long before it was "officially" released in a rulebook.

There are a lot of glaring omissions from a lot of the other files in my collection: poor scans, missing pages, corrupted files... There's a lot I still don't know, because it's impossible for me to currently confirm that the little I do know is, in fact, accurate. My collection is woefully incomplete. Plus, I don't really have much past 6th edition anyway.

And this, in essence, is my idea: try and complete the collection. Find pristine copies of all the old 40k rulebooks, army codexes, even old copies of White Dwarf, and digitize them all into a huge archive for the sake of historical preservation. Of a sort.

Basically, I want to become a Lexmechanic of the Adeptus Mechanicus, looking for Dark Age of Technology era STC's uncorrupted by the Heresy or the war with the Iron Men. Either that, or I want to become Trazyn with his Infinite Archive on Solemnace.

Unfortunately, there are many problems with this plan. The first being GW's overly litigious nature. They see all this Warhammer shit as "product" first and a hobby for people to enjoy a very, VERY distant second. Doesn't matter that these books (and the magazines) are long since out of print and they don't sell them anymore, effectively making the old editions the tabletop hobby equivalent to video game abandonware... if they got wind that I was attempting a project of this nature, I just know GW would smack me in the face with a cease and desist.

Of course, the other major stumbling block here is the financial issue. And I'm not just talking about buying the books. Obviously, there's the problem of the rarer books that go for upwards of $300 or more on ebay, but there's also a volume problem. Even if you find some good deals, and you're able to find older books for $10 or $15 a pop, there's just SO MANY books, that if I were to attempt this I would be wasting several thousand dollars that I just don't have.

More importantly, there's also the machine I would need to buy in order to do this project in the first place. Because if I was going to do this, I would want to do it right, y'know? I wouldn't want to simply shove the books into my dinky little scanner-printer combo hooked up to my computer. The only way I'd get a clean scan using that method would be to physically destroy these very valuable books, and that's the last thing I'd want to do. No, I would want to do it right, and get a machine like Scribe, the book scanner used by the internet archive:

youtube

Now, obviously, I can't get access to that machine, specifically, because Scribe was custom built by the engineers at the Internet Archive. But other V-cradle book scanners that let you digitize books without destroying them do exist... and they're all REALLY expensive. A good one to produce professional quality scans is, like, $25,000.

And I know what you're thinking: why do I even care about any of this? Even if this project was not entirely out of my reach, it's ultimately pointless, right? Why would I want to preserve all these old, out-of-date, no longer relevant rulebooks for a tabletop wargame that has only existed exactly as long as I have?

Because... let's be honest, this isn't really about Warhammer. The reason I want to do this stems from a much deeper desire to simply Remember. It's amazing and terrifying in equal measure just how easily history can be erased, either deliberately or simply through neglect. All of these things in our lives that are seemingly so important to us can easily vanish from history, like sandcastles when the tide rolls in.

Hell, if you really want to know my feelings about this, just watch Jacob Geller's video on this very subject.

youtube

If I had infinite time and infinite money, and I didn't care about any kind of repercussions from GW's legal team, this project would not be beyond my reach.

But I do not have infinite time or money. And there are more things in my life that I need to be concerned with that are far more important than creating a... stupid archive.

Shame, really.

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh 40k #Games Workshop #adeptus mechanicus #STC #Trazyn the Infinite #Solemnace #internet archive #Scribe #historical preservation #archival #Youtube

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calware · 4 months ago

Note

would you ever share a list of your fave fics to reread ? Id love to hear your recommendations and faves

sure thing :) i'm only going to list works that have been going on for a while (or at least have gotten past the very beginning of the story) and that i've read all the way through. i'm also not going to list any of the super iconic fics i like because this list is already pretty long. these are all based on stuff that i personally find more interesting to read about, mostly focused on the human characters and not a lot of romance

i don't really know if these first two count but they're too good to not include:

Jade Route by spicyyeti

a post-epilogues comic centering around jade, this is my favorite homestuck fanwork. i especially love the artwork and the way it frames the story. it is reaaallllly hard to read it on a phone so make sure to read it on a computer or tablet

House of Dirk by imarriedacherub no rating - graphic depictions of violence - 13,570 words - 20 chapters (unfinished) A sitcom about completely normal and well-adjusted newlyweds Dirk and Caliborn attempting to make a good impression on their son, Dave, and his boyfriend, Karkat.

another comic, this one hosted on both ao3 and mspfa (though the ao3 version has more pages). i like how ridiculous it is. will probably never be finished, sadly

moving on to the actual fics:

Reallocated by breezefulskies mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 324,756 words - 65 chapters (unfinished) Hal finds himself stranded aboard a certain meteor, impact-bound for Houston, Texas circa 1995. And everything spirals out from there. Because sometimes, when a system seems to be just short of defunct, all that is required is to take a step back and reevaluate the materials at hand and redistribute your available resources. And so, with birth comes a countdown on a cycle that begins as it ends: In the red.

hal is mysteriously sent to earth via unknown means and finds himself raising a baby as best as he can, which, given that he's glasses, is not easy. this is my favorite homestuck fic, not just because it's about hal, but also because i love the focus on family dynamics and the plot as it unfolds. begging everyone to read this, i can't say what happens exactly without spoiling things, it's just really really good. at the moment, it updates once a month

Ersatz Abyss by katreal mature - no archive warnings apply - 120,092 words - 39 chapters (unfinished) You look into the mirror to find your own face looking back at you. You laugh. And then you cry. Last, you try and figure out how you got to this moment. The Auto-Responder had long since resigned himself to an artificial existence, his only dwindling hope for escape hinging on a promise that has yet to be fulfilled. Then one day he wakes up, Dirk nowhere to be found. What's the point in getting what you want, if you can't show off a little?

another great hal fic. i managed to get my roommate (who has not read homestuck) to read this and they really enjoyed it, so i'm sure you all won't have any problems liking this one either. there are a lot of fics out there of hal getting a body, but this one is very different in that it's not the happy ending that you might first think it is. this fic perfects the feeling of everything snowballing into a bigger and bigger problem until it all falls apart

Falling for the First Time by nobrandhero teen - no warnings apply - 63,818 words - 11/17 chapters The game is over, Alpha Earth resets to 2009, and Dirk's bro doesn't live up to expectations. The movie director who appears so chill and stoic in interviews is actually a talkative, needy dweeb like his teenage counterpart. It's not a bad thing, as far as Dirk's concerned.

for whatever reason, i'm a sucker for fics where the characters somehow end up on earth again post-game, and out of all the fics that follow that concept this one is my favorite. sadly, this one barely touches on jane and jake, but it's pretty interesting to read about what dirk and roxy are getting up to with their guardians (and the earth) restored to their previous conditions

The Haunted Harley House by hemoanarchists teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 78,462 words - 23 chapters (finished) There is an old house you built a long long time ago, alongside someone very close to you. Now as you don a new name, slipping back into society to care for a descendant, to whom tragedy has left you as her only family left, you take her to the house, the house that bears your family name. You really shouldn't have been surprised when he came to join you. It is his house too, after all.

carlah, a young girl who lives on earth c, has just been taken in by her uncle "jacob harley" after her mother's death. as time goes on, she slowly learns more about the true nature of her new guardians and the house they all live in. normally i'm not that interested in OCs but i love how intriguing carlah is as an outsider of the story. it's really easy to get invested in her as she uncovers a mystery we all know from the beginning and another that we have to learn along with her. shoutout to dysfunctional family dynamics

actually, while i'm at it, i'm going to recommend a bunch of other stuff he's written:

Atlantis Bound teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 33,263 words - 8 chapters (unfinished) Dirk tracks down an old friend

prequel to the haunted harley house but can also be read after (or separately). i really like the dynamic between dirk and vriska here, and i also love the way vriska's repeated reincarnation is utilized. vriska's journey through the newest iteration of her life while dirk watches over her is soooo captivating, especially when snippets of her previous lives are sprinkled in throughout. do you guys love cycles? personally i love cycles

Cherubian mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 54,011 words - 29 chapters (unfinished) The 5000 year time skip never happened, at the dawn of time the gods desperately try to guide the planet into a better future. But with tensions rising it feels like one bad day could bring everything crumbling down.

all of dante's earth-c god fics as a whole changed my brain chemistry and this acts as the beginning (and catalyst) of that overarching story. a lot happens in a very short amount of time

Transitional teen - no warnings apply - 1,860 words - oneshot a simple question what changed when you went godtier?

super simple but also an interesting exploration of the headcanon that players' bodies change when they go godtier. the twist is that each "change" is unique to each character and relates to their Self in some way

Monster under the bed teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 2,573 words - oneshot Skeletons in the Closet mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 2,910 words - oneshot Small Talk teen - no warnings apply - 8,944 words - 6 chapters (unfinished)

putting all three of these together because i believe(?) they're all part of the same narrative

#ask #Anonymous #i say things

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luvfy0dor · 1 year ago

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Henlo

You know who it is, we all know, henlo

I feel like I’ve been here a lot recently

Just starting off with saying I loved the Dazai piece. It was really cute. Dad Dazai trying his best, made my heart melty

But I think you know why I’m here today

On this day

Honestly the day doesn’t entirely matter but I’m here on THIS one

With the dad Fyodor thought I promised

Cuz here I was thinking to myself. I feel like Fyodor definitely wants his child or children having some connection to Russian culture, since that’s a part of them too, regardless of their other parent’s nationality or background, he definitely wants his included. (Tho his partner could totally do the same)

So I was wondering, would you like a piece of him either teaching his children Russian or making Russian food for them? Or really sharing any Russian cultural thing with them at all. Honestly whatever one is easier for you to write or go into detail with, they’re all equally cute.

Cuz if his child or children develop a connection to that, I feel like that would make him a lot happier than maybe he would fully show.

I hope this ask sparks the creative brain juices in a fun way

Also considering sending a Halloween themed request at some point idk… oh but who knows!We’re here rn and having fun with this, that’s all we need at the moment

Also real glad you enjoy my messages lol. I will absolutely keep sending. Take as long as you need

-the person here attempting to give everyone baby fever because it’s funny

This blog’s Dad Fyodor anon

"da!" - Dad!Fyodor x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Google translate Russian, not much reader involvement, very minimal proofreading happened

Description; Dad!Fyodor teaching his child about Russian culture! It incorporates ideas from the first dad!Fyodor part.

A/n; YESYESYES I one hundred percent agree, I think about this on the regular OMG I hope I depicted this well bc my knowledge on Russia isn't all that extensive lol, if you have any corrections, do tell me!! : ) Also I'm gonna be so fr I had NO idea what to name this so we're rolling with da I guess.............

Headcannons !! ༊*·˚

★ He teaches his child/children classical Russian music when they're old enough to play more difficult pieces. Until then, he'll settle for twinkle twinkle little star.

★ Introduces his children to ballet.

★ His children have a variety of Russian-originating toys, such as Matryoshka/Russian nesting dolls, rocking horses etc.

★ Brings his children to Russia at least once, specifically to Moscow (irl Dostoevsky was raised in Moscow, so we're gonna assume BSD Dostoevsky was too) to experience the culture first hand.

★ Teaches his children the foundations of the Russian language. He would like them to fluently speak it one day, though.

★ Cooks Russian food for them like I mentioned and included in the first part.

★ They learn about Russian history from their father, anywhere from Peter the Great to fur trade and all that jazz

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

(as always, p/t is parental title, d/n is daughters name)

Your head leaned against your fist while you watched your husband and daughter focus on their current activity. D/n carefully picked the colors and pigments she would use to color in the white spaces on her paper, and Fyodor just tried to keep things inside the lines. You could see the little girls tongue slightly sticking out from between her lips in concentration, making you smile.

Your daughter went to pick her next color, chosing a pink crayon to fill in the nose of the cat. "Papa, what'd you say your hat was called again? The one you always wear." She clarifies, even though there was really only one hat that Fyodor would wear at all. His eyes don't leave his thin paper as he replies, "A ushanka, and it's from Russia, malyshka." He answered, pushing some of his hair out of his face and behind his ear. "Russia." She says, the sound not unfamiliar, but not common to her either. "Where's that?" She tilts her head upwards, putting her crayon down to signify her attention on her papa. He puts his down too and rests his arms on top of one another.

"Quite far, but it is in both Asia and Europe. That's how big it is, it stretches over two continents." He says, a smile on his face. Her eyes widen a little. "That is really big. Have you been there before?" Her head tilts and she shifts a bit in her seat. "I grew up there, in the city of Moscow." He says, happy with her clear interest in his motherland.

"We should go there for a vacation one day!" She says, a grin on her face. He laughs a little bit and nods. "I agree, we definetly should." He agrees, fantasizing about it in his head. "Is that why you talk like that?" She questions her fathers accent, skittering around the table and climbing onto his lap. He smiles gently and nods. "Yes, it's called an accent, malyshka. I learned English, but Russian is my mother tongue. There are a lot of different pronunciations for certain sounds in Russian." He tells her, his hands fidgeting with the young girls hair. He parts it into three sections and starts to braid it.

"Is everything different there?" Fyodor hums, thinking as he weaves her hair into a gorgeous French braid. "Well, it definitely very different, but I don't think I would say everything." He says. "There are more historical differences than anything, if I do say so myself." She hums in understanding. "Papa, can you teach me some Russian?" She asks, turning her head to look at him with puppy dog eyes, even though she really didn't need them. He smiled and nodded.

"What should I teach you?" He softly questions, looking into the young girls eyes. She thinks for a moment, tapping her pointer finger on her chin. "I don't know! Whatever you want." She says, just excited to hear another language. He chuckles softly. "я не знаю, что тебе сказать" (I don't know what to tell you) he responds, a small grin on his face. Her eyes widen, almost as if she never believed he could speak a different language. You giggle a bit at her reaction.

"What does that mean?!" She excitedly asks, her mind seemingly blown over this. "It simply means I don't know what to tell you." He speaks. "But I can tell you the simple stuff. Like 'да' means yes and 'нет' means no. Hello is 'привет' and goodbye is 'до свидания'."

The young girl takes a mental note of these words. "привет, papa! I think I said that right." She says. You proudly watch the scene go down. Fyodor gives you a similarly prideful smile. "Yes, you did wonderful, malyshka." He praises her, patting her shoulder. "I'll have to teach you more one day." She nods vigorously, very obviously wanting him to. "Yes! And then we can have secret conversations, no one else will know what we're saying!" She snickers, making him smile.

A/n; I hope this is alright!! I loved this request a whole lot. Oh, also, feel free to send in that Halloween request even though it's November now lol

"Oh, ofcourse. That will probably be rather far in the future, though." He says, removing her from his lap and gently patting her back. "That's okay. If I learn more I'll know more words." She states the obvious. "And I'm gonna learn from the best russian ever." She beams, making Fyodor grin. "That's right, sweetheart."

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raspberrybesitos · 1 year ago

Text

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Summary: You and Javier, your best friend and neighbor, have been hooking up for a while now. He’s infiltrated your daily life, lingering in your thoughts, seeing him everywhere - you’re unable to function without him crossing your mind. However, nothing has been exclusively established by you two. At least not until shit hits the fan when the two of you go on dates with other people. Will things between you and Javier turn into something more?

Word count: tbd (it’ll probs be long i can’t control myself)

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Series warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, lil bit of enemies to lovers at some point, idiots in love, miscommunication trope, flirting, mutual pining, some angst, Javi is a fucking idiot bc he is a man, jealous!Javi, possessive!Javi, protected and unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, some ass play, creampie, aftercare, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female and has hair you can pull but has no other physical descriptions, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations will be available at the end of each chapter.

A/N: Mood board does not depict reader, she is completely faceless through and through. This is loosely based off Deja Vú by Beyoncé because how could i, Nini, not write a fic based off of a Bey song??? if y’all don’t know me, i am Beyhive 4L 🤞🏼i was listening to B’day and it’s so Javi coded to me, it’s crazy

Divider by @saradika

Full series here! 🫶🏼

As promised, my lil 200 followers celebration (and my WIP Wednesday) so, snippet under the cut!

You shut the door before he can answer, huffing out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and lean against it. What a long fucking night. Padding into the bathroom, you remove your makeup and sigh into your towel. You stare at yourself in the mirror and bite back tears.

Shaking your head, you will yourself not to cry - refusing to shed tears for him. You walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of the cabinets. Opening the fridge, you reach for the open bottle of wine. Sighing, as you’re reminded of Javi, having shared the bottle with him after a hookup a few days ago.

You fill your glass to the brim and chug half of it, slamming down the glass on the countertop. You drag your feet towards the living room, plopping down on the couch. Your head hangs in your hands as you curl into a ball.

“Javi!” You perk up at the sound of a woman calling his name. Rising from the couch, you press your ear against the thin wall that separates yours and Javi’s apartments. “Sí, Javi, sí!” Your brain is short-circuiting as you hear her moan Javi’s name. You can’t help but let your jaw fall open, shocked that he’d be so bold to rub this in your face. Tears of anger and heartache well in your eyes. You attempt to storm off until you hear your name.

A man screaming your name - Javi screaming your name. Everything goes silent. Your ears are ringing and your body is hot, flooding with emotions as your head spins. There’s no way any of this is happening.

Suddenly, you hear shuffling and shouting from outside. Running to peer out of the small peephole at the top of your front door, your jaw drops again at the scene playing out in front of you. Cassandra, the woman from earlier in the night, is fixing her clothes while screaming at a shirtless Javi in the hallway.

i’m excited for this one! it’s like seeing the novelas in my head come to life on the page lol this is very self-indulgent for me

some moot/npt tags: @joelsgreys @nostalxgic @party-hearses @daydreamingmiller @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @javierpena-inatacvest @amanitacowboy @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro 🩷

ty @mandoisapunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jenispunk for the wip wednesday tags <333

#fic: deja vú #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña #javier peña fic #javier peña smut #wip wednesday

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dearestspirit · 1 month ago

Text

a note heard in heaven - 07 (final)

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 10,495 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health.

series masterlist | previous part

You sit across from Taigen in a lavish hotel, somehow stomaching your meal as he babbles on about riches and luxury. Nausea stews in the core of your belly, all your worry for Mizu leaving your head empty of ways to reply to the man’s droning. All of your senses tried their best to focus on anything else– the scent of cigarette smoke wafting through the air, the pleasant taste of your food, the sunlight brightening the more western styled decor. The rattling of your hands is hidden behind small, polite bites. Ever so ladylike, newly wifelike. A sharp heave to your heart as you manage to notice the subtle dilation of Taigen’s pupils as his gaze trails over you. One that you’d come to understand is ingrained in your genetics to recognize; like prey at the bottom of the food chain, you feel your skin prickle, an urge gnawing at the very marrow of your bones. His plate, untouched, completes the predatory picture painted before you. Taigen was more than capable of being patient to act upon his carnivorous desire. How long you had, you were unsure.

Disregarding your trepidation, or at least refusing to comment on it, he slides an envelope your way over the table. Contained inside is a collection of black and white photographs depicting a well-furnished home.

“It’s owned by Russian nobles,” He leans over with his elbows on the table, a fang-toothed grin taking over his face. “We can marry again, there.”

Your brows shoot up at that, eyes trained on him to see if you can detect any hint of humor in his words. Your attempt to speak up is interrupted by a waiter coming by, taking your plate and replacing it with a sweet dessert.

Giving you no time to question him, Taigen resumes. “Soon enough, I’ll get notice from the asylum staff that my wife has passed.”

“Oh,” You pause, a strawberry dotted with cream nearly in your mouth as you instead lower your fork. “I thought you’d ask them to just keep her there.”

“Mm, well, I supposed she wouldn’t like to live there very long. Besides, you should’ve both known by now that I’m nothing if not a bastard.” He chuckles at that remark, though you couldn’t find it within you to even huff.

Digging into his suit jacket, he pulls out a passport. Inspecting its contents, you’re impressed with how polished the forgery is. With this, you’d officially become Mizu. Any legal traces of your old life would be no longer as soon as Taigen received word from the hospital.

“I’d like for us to get married again, once you take up her name.”

You scoff at that, shaking your head.

“I’ve come to like you, actually.” He tells you, and the unmistakable feeling of your veins running cold freezes you in place.

“Has it ever occurred to you to think about Mizu? She’s all alone in that wretched place.” It’s your best attempt at changing the subject. After all, she was the only one on your mind anyway.

You think of how, if she were here, dining next to the two of you– her chair closer to yours, hand perched on your thigh to soothe your nerves– she would’ve let her head rear back and cackle in Taigen’s face. For him to have any notion in his mind to genuinely confess romantic attraction to you… you have to think of her laughter so that you don’t cry. You have to think of the way she’d choke on her breath at how pathetic he is, even in an establishment such as this. No concern for social expectations, just utter amazement at Taigen pursuing the impossible. How her hand would travel a smooth path up your back and would curl around your shoulder as she tells him you’re spoken for.

“Why would I care?” Taigen snorts. “For how she was raised, you would think by now she would’ve seen it coming.”

“And you would think you wouldn’t fall for your partner in crime, Taigen.” Is about all you can muster up, hoping to dissuade him.

“Ah,” He shrugs, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. “To be honest with you, I can’t find myself minding, even if my love for you ends up costing me everything.”

Bile tickles at your throat at his nonchalant use of the word ‘love’, as if any of the time you two had shared could reasonably end with love as its conclusion. As if the bloodthirsty way his hands had touched you was love. As if all his greedy want for your money was love. From your end, you could’ve only summed it up with indifference. Disgust, even, if you wanted to push it that far.

Love burrowed itself far deeper in the reaches of your heart. That’s what you knew. Love was… it was someone rushing after you, finding you teary-eyed at the top of a staircase. Carrying you back to your bed and staying until sleep came to you, trick and all. A pair of shoes you couldn’t fathom scuffing, couldn’t bear to muck with mud. Floating, fragrant petals in cozily warm water. The flavor of bittersweet candy, a thimble grinding down all the painful parts of you that hurt. Earrings that, when you wear them, serve only to remind you of the eyes you wish you were looking into rather than your own reflection. Gentle hands undoing all superfluous buttons and laces without tearing into the skin underneath. A thin layer of sugar glazed over lips you wished to kiss forever. Cries of her name that wisped away in the blackness of night. Pitiful remnants of a library as she stood unshaken, metal baton in hand to ward off your suffering. Huddling closely for body heat when freezing fog rolls over the two of you. Blue waves of the sea, a halo-esque ring of light. Verdant hills accompanied by her husky chatter in your ear.

Love was companionship.

Love was her.

“With all due respect, I’m not quite sure what you’d know of love.”

Mizu scowls at the handful of rice she holds, the lifeless body of an insect poking out from where she had just bitten. She had to eat to survive her stay here, of course, but fuck. Sighing, she rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck, joints popping. The scratchy fabric of hospital clothes weighed on her. There was no room for distrust between the two of you anymore, she knew that. Still, she can’t shake the twinge of worry thrumming through her. Not that you’ll leave her– you wouldn’t, and she can’t believe that for the first time in her life, that’s actually true of somebody– but of you, alone, with Taigen. If he had even an inkling of what’s been plotted behind his back, it wasn’t certain how he’d react. Intrusively, the thought that he might hurt you claws at her. Rice squishes in her hand as she finds herself clenching her fist, leg shaking and chains clanking around her ankles. Mizu tries to be a patient woman. Tries to not immediately want to cut down everything in her path, but… Shit, she wishes she had pushed Taigen off that fucking boat, passport be damned.

More simply put, she just missed you. Never before had she known the ways of love, and she had lived most of her life believing everyone around her would leave, or that she somehow deserved that rocky emptiness of being alone. It became clear to her over time that you were the same– so savagely left abandoned in a world you could only escape through death. Even then, was it an escape if the cycle repeated beyond your passing? It’s funny to her now, how she had shown up at your door expecting some naive, immature girl who wouldn’t have cared about her at all. She was so, so certain that you’d be disgusted with her, eagerly taking the opportunity to run away with a handsome, wealthy man. Mizu could’ve never predicted you, all your melancholic radiance that had enraptured her. How carefully you had pieced yourself together and how, crashing into her, you’d let her handle every unsightly, jagged shard of you. Every time you brushed against her, touched her, held her arm or her hand– it was in that she found meaning. Entirely reorganizing herself into a protector, into somebody worth protecting in return. Her fingertips trace along her lower lip, thinking of saccharine candy, ripe peaches, and the night she made a promise to you.

She’ll carry that promise to the end of the world.

Before her mind can return to visualizing the many ways to dispose of Taigen, heat crawls its way through the asylum. Thick, heavy smoke laden with ash creeps across the ceiling, the distinct scent of fire apparent. Ironically, it’s the first time since arriving here that Mizu feels like she can really breathe.

Finally, she’s able to pluck a hair pin from her usual updo. A thin piece of metal that luckily no one had bothered to confiscate. One of the nurses rushes to the doors, throwing them open to reveal dark, fiery clouds rolling in. Amidst the commotion of patients and staff alike hollering, Mizu reaches down to her shackles to start picking the locks. Freeing herself, she’s greeted by familiar faces– or, familiar bodies, rather– as her friends from back home don gas masks and makeshift protective gear. In all honesty, they look silly to her and she thanks whatever powers there are that you won’t have to see her like that. As much as she believes in your goodness and as much as she revels in the way you dote on her, she’d like to retain some shreds of her dignity beyond this whole affair. The sight is certainly something you wouldn’t let her live down.

Her old colleagues fuss over her, hurriedly getting her own mask and gear on. Mizu doesn’t even take a second to consider the risk of literally walking through fire with only shoddy equipment to protect her. So deliberately focused not on her survival, but yours. Getting you out of Taigen’s grasp and into safety. Into her arms, where she hoped you felt safest. And, perhaps a bit selfishly, she wanted to feel your lips at the crown of her hair. To rest her chin in the middle of your chest and close her eyes and not feel underlying dread. Splay the length of her fingers across your lower back to feel the realness of your skin. That once miniscule throb in her heart had grown, overwhelmingly emerging as what she could only call desperation. Desperation for your domesticity– stability she had never yearned for nor thought she needed.

But now, when the portrait of you as her wife had taken residency in her mind, there was nothing more she wanted. Every possibility of a life with you had rooted itself within her. She recalls the moment you had told her you could’ve even been happy staying with your fiance, as long as she was your handmaiden. Remorse chewed at her, thinking if she had confessed sooner that you wouldn’t have thought so lowly of yourself. Like you needed to convince her with wealth and extravagance to make her stay. Wherever the two of you ended up, it didn’t matter to her. Home could be a cabin built in the solitude of snowy mountains. Somewhere in the city accompanied by busy foot-traffic and bustling markets. Out in the grassy, sunny countryside with some animals or farmland. Little dwellings by the shore, a river, a lake. Even some kind of desert where she’d cringe at the heat and sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Anywhere, she decided. She’d take you anywhere after all this was over, as long as it meant never seeing your eyes gloss over with tears again.

Home was companionship.

Home was you.

Mizu wasn’t sure when she had become so sentimental. So sappy that she had to swallow down a lump in her throat, a tightly wound density of all her terror and all her adoration.

Drumming pulses in your ear, you can’t seem to slow your heartbeat. You’ve separated into hotel rooms for the night, Taigen no longer in your presence. Staring down at the two glasses you’ve filled with wine, you try to work up some courage within yourself. This is likely the only chance you’ll have to rid yourself of him. Clutching the vial in your hand, you unscrew the cap. His wedding gift to you, the tiny glass filled with liquid opium that, should your fiance have ever found you, would’ve been enough to kill you. Shakily, you tip it just so that a few drops cascade down into the alcohol. You could only hope he had been truthful about how strong the substance was.

If Mizu was here, you guessed, she’d be able to do this no problem. You hadn’t been oblivious to the intensity of her stares pointed towards Taigen. Though, back then, it wasn’t clear if it stemmed from jealousy or plain annoyance. The man’s arrogance was always laid on thick when he was near, so it came to no surprise to you that someone like Mizu wouldn’t be fond of him.

You give yourself a little self-assuring nod, determined to go through with the plan. He’d be the best at locating you two if it ever came down to that, and you knew it wasn’t a chance you could take with your fiance also likely to be on your trail. If he wasn’t already. Grabbing the two glasses, you figured all you could do was move forward. Even if you couldn’t bestow yourself with some false bravery, you at least knew you could do this for Mizu. For her survival, the likelihood that you two could reunite. What else could possibly matter more at this moment?

Even still, your steps as you make your way to Taigen’s door are hesitant. Realistically, while there were many paths your actions could take, there were only two possible outcomes. Either Taigen’s death, or… yours. You learned a long time ago that death was not all that terrifying. You were no stranger to welcoming it, even. Worse than that was the idea of leaving Mizu all alone. Shaking your head, you knock on the door. From outside, you can hear Taigen groan and the faint creaking of bed springs as he lifts himself up.

He seems surprised to see you, but he gestures you inside anyway. Taking a wide step away from him to make your way in, you clear your throat.

“I wanted to come offer my gratitude for what you’ve done for me,” You tell him, hoping there’s no wobble in your dictation as you put on a deceitfully flirtatious smile. “I supposed that I could at least offer you a kiss.”

Handing him one of the glasses you have, he shakes his head. “No.”

“And why not?” Your eyes dart to where he holds his drink, having not taken a sip yet.

“I can tell that it’s not something you truly want,” Taigen sits on his bed– covered in a layer of money– eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t want just a kiss like that.”

“I see,” You nod, clicking your tongue. “And if I gave you ten minutes? What would you give me?”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “Anything.”

Taigen stands so suddenly that it startles you briefly, before his lips are wetly planted onto yours. One of his hands is already firmly at your waist, digging into the fabric of your clothes, trying to get under them. Inwardly, you recoil at his nature– so forceful, impatient. Nothing like Mizu, who takes only when you enthusiastically give. Leaves you waiting until you’re wanting, wanting, wanting. When his lips part from you, you slowly blink as you come to your senses, seemingly forgetting where you were as you thought about the one you wished you were with.

Thumb toying with your bottom lip, Taigen grins. “I’ll spend these ten minutes teaching you so much.”

Nauseating. Raising your drink, you take large, nervous gulps of the wine. Hoping to encourage him to do the same, as he has yet to indulge. The thought that he might know throbs at the back of your mind, a painful ache that you aren’t sure how to soothe yet.

His mouth finds its way onto your neck, repulsively blazing down the exposed planes of your body. It’s fine, for now, you think. Let out a staccato of exaggerated, feminine moans and he’ll be none the wiser. Abruptly he begins to peel at the neckline of your clothes, pulling the sleeves down your arms until your chest is bare. Discomfort bubbles up, and you take his jaw in your palm, guiding him downwards so the two of you are kneeling on the carpet. Forcing his drink out of his grasp, you sip, retaining it in your mouth. Clumsily, you knock your face against his to try to kiss him, spilling the drugged alcohol into his mouth. His eyes are wide as he fumbles, swallowing frantically as a few droplets escape. So you do it again, another rush of wine into his system until his cup is empty. Taigen’s head drops to the nape of your neck, once again ghosting his lips over your bare skin. A smear of wine stains you, clinging at his biceps to keep him from falling over on top of you. Body swaying, his strength was slowly sapped out of him by the opium.

Relief floods you as you crawl away from him, watching as he faceplants onto the floor limply. As grim as it is, you feel a bit giddy as you hop up to your feet once more. Tapping at the side of his head with a socked foot, he lays unmoving. Failing to show any signs of life, you’re immediately rifling through his discarded suit jacket, retrieving his passport. The next few minutes go by in a flurry for you. Tearing apart his wardrobe to take his clothes and cramming as much of the money layered on his mattress as you can into the briefcase he’d brought with him. Adrenaline coursed through you in staggering waves, nearly numbing your fingers as you worked. Mizu was waiting for you, and finally, you would be on your way to her. How many days since you last saw her had you spent looking at the sky, thinking it could never compare to the blue of her irises? How many times had you looked at Taigen, willing your mind to see Mizu across from you instead? How many times had you licked your lips, praying you could taste the tang of her sugar on them?

Mizu– the syllables of her name, the bells of her laughter, the shine of her eyes– all of her, spilling over in your mind until she tints every corner she touches.

Soon, is all you could think. Soon, she’ll be yours again.

The next time Taigen wakes, he’s splayed out on the floor, drool soaking into the pristine carpet underneath him. Groggily turning his head, he’s greeted by two swordsmen. He could only guess they were sent by your fiance. Clicking his tongue, he lowers his forehead back to the ground.

“Fuck.” He breathes, ever aware of how screwed he is.

It isn’t long before he’s hauled into some carriage to take him back to your estate, wrists bound together. Still, he manages to fish his cigarette case out of his pocket, taking the last three white papered ones and lighting them all to smoke.

It’s there, the library, where Taigen finally learns what you meant. When you two had first met and you had told him you would never go back to the basement. Claustrophobic and frigid, the dark room is practically a dungeon. A brutal display of all your fiance's grotesque perversions, hidden away from prying eyes. The overtness of it all even makes Taigen a bit queasy, though there’s nothing he can do about it as he’s strapped down to a chair. Fingers forcefully placed into some well sharpened bookmaking tools, once a proper thing that your fiance had cherished. Madness apparent, your fiance sat reading a letter you had written to him aloud.

Taigen’s consciousness drifted in and out, delirious from shock, fatigue, and pain. What he understood from what you had written was simple and struck directly at his ego– you had thanked him for sending Mizu to you. His shoulders raise in a self-deprecating chuckle at that, shaking his head and staring at his feet restricted below him.

“Can I…” Taigen heaves, ignoring the echoing drips of blood. “Can I at least smoke a cigarette, mister?”

Your fiance snorts. “What an idiot,” He rummages through Taigen’s jacket, finding the tin he was looking for. “I’ve arranged it so that no two girls can leave together, anyhow. They’ll be back with me soon enough.”

Placing the blue-wrapped cigarette between Taigen’s lips, he lights it for him as well. “Now, come on…” Your fiance goads, a malicious smile on his face. “At least tell me about your wedding night with her.”

Taigen grunts, inhaling the smoke deeply. He’s not surprised by the question in the slightest, now more familiar with your fiance’s ways than ever. The readings were already depraved enough as it is, but now, this room he was trapped in… Again, it made even him start to feel the swirls of distaste in his gut. Foolish man, he thought. Foolish for not just taking the money and running. His mind drifts to the night your fiance shamelessly asks about. There, at the inn concealed in the depths of a forested mountain, you had him fooled then too.

Worried that Mizu would be listening in, Taigen urged the two of you to ‘do your best’. Stepping away from him and disrobing, you had laid yourself on the bedroll, completely covering yourself under the blanket that had been provided. Taigen crawled over on his knees, caressing the side of your face, impressed at your beauty. Attempting to press his lips against yours, you had unsheathed a dagger and pointed it in his direction. In your eyes was a fire, the statement ‘no’ very clear in the flames.

Taigen pauses, taking his last blue-wrapped cigarette and lighting it. Breathing the smoke in deeply once more, he shakes his head. Remembering the truth but covering it up with some falsities that get your old man peculiarly excited.

That night you had pleasured yourself, Mizu’s humming drifting through the air. He demeans himself a little, thinking he should’ve known right there and then it was never going to be him who made it out alive. From above the fabric of your sheet, even he could tell the rhythm of your desire was harmonious with Mizu’s voice. How, when put together, your moans and her tune, made a complete song. When your finishing wail had sliced through the silence, you took the dagger to your palm to allow droplets of your blood to fall upon the bedroll. Convincing enough, he thought.

Tendrils of tinted smoke curl through the room, sitting thickly in every space it could. Taigen’s eyes squint as he watches your fiance grow weary, stumbling as he coughs.

“You know,” Taigen’s tongue darts out and wets his lips, lethargy overtaking him as well. “Mercury is the most fatal in its gaseous form.”

The older man falls to the floor, ailing and helpless.

Taigen rears his head back, taking quick breaths of the smoke, hoping the fatal gas invades his lungs even faster. As he fades, the last image in his mind is of all three of you cramped in that tiny wooden vessel before reaching the ferry.

Of your body, curving into Mizu’s as you tightly hold her hand. Of your face, where there’s a hint of a grin more venomous than he remembers, teeth sharply biting through the haze of silvery fog.

Of him, poignantly alone and rowing.

Mizu has always prided herself on her ability to keep herself calm. She’s always been levelheaded, capable of being rational in even the worst of times. The room resounds with the never-ending clicking of her shoes as she paces back and forth, eyes sternly on the floor. You should be here soon. Or, should you have been here already? Ignoring the burning stares of her friends who had rescued her from the hospital, anxiety starts to cloud her mind. Was there a chance you’d left her? Worse, was there a chance you were still plotting with Taigen? Or… what if you really did like him? More than you liked her? She wasn’t oblivious to the way his gaze started to shift when it landed on you. Being apart from you, it was so easy to let her lack of confidence swallow her whole. An insecurity she hid well, always seeming so self-assured. Here, without you, she couldn’t search for the sparkle in your eye, or the upwards quirk of your lips, or the subtle flush on your cheeks. Those things that only happen when you look at her. As if she’s someone precious, someone to be adored. Someone who was wanted. Even just imagining your bashful expression is enough to send her heart racing, hoping to be reunited with you sooner rather than later.

Outside, the streets are lively, people going to and fro. Weaving your way through them, at what you hope is a normal pace so as to not draw attention to yourself, your attention fully set on the various signs leading you to your destination. Directions repeated themselves in your head like a mantra, making sure you couldn’t miss any turns. Picking up speed, you briskly make a turn down a more narrow alleyway that takes you face to face with the building you had planned to meet Mizu at. While the doors were far less ornate than what you were used to, they still intimidated you all the same. With luck, she’s here. Hoisting yourself up the concrete steps, you raise your fist to knock. Before you can make contact, the doors swing open with a force that tumbles you down the steps, dropping the bag of money you’d taken. Carefully catching your footing, you look up at what’s caused the commotion.

A pair of ice blue eyes greets you, and finally. The cracks of your heart have begun to fuse themselves together, the warmth of her lapping at your wounds to heal you. Shattered thing that you are, made anew by the way her arms cling around your waist with ardent fervor. Her hair, loose and tousled, catching the rays of sun. Laughter ringing in your ears as all you can do is clutch at her. Arms tossed over her shoulders, gripping at the fabric of her kimono as you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck. Your body nearly tears itself in two, half gasping in mirthful giggles, half gasping in shaking sobs. Mizu’s hand pets at your hair, cradling the base of your skull and softly shushing you. For this brief moment, everyone else has crumbled away and that dream of yours truly exists, much like it did in that grassy field as the two of you ran. For this brief moment, the world is two people and the sidewalk they stand on. It’s the frenzied path that Mizu’s hands follow, up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms to your wrists until she takes your face in her palms– like she’s afraid of separating from you even for a minute.

Her thumbs drag through the still wet tear tracks on your cheeks, her lips parted. You watch as her eyes flick about, mapping out every detail of your features she can. Committing them to memory, as if you two would ever be apart again. When her eyes trace a path down to your mouth, there’s a shy flutter of her lids, a momentary dart of her tongue to wet her lips. Endearing as always, there’s the way her skin reddens in a creeping flush all the way to her ears. You had learned, over time, that Mizu was not one to vocalize the things she yearned for. She was a woman who preferred action over dialogue, letting her eyes, hands, and body language speak for her. Just by looking in those irises of hers, you can tell what she’s hoping for.

“Ask me.” You sniffle, a wide smile on your face as she’s already rolling her eyes.

“Come inside, first. There’s people out here, okay?” Mizu whispers and shakes her head, though the tears at the corner of her waterline are unmistakable.

She pinches your cheek as a pout forms, clearing her throat of unshed tears. Damn the world around you, she wanted to kiss you until you were sated and panting. Until your knees faltered and quivered, embracing her so you didn’t fall. Mizu makes a move to grab the briefcase you had so unceremoniously dropped earlier, offering up her arm for you to take. She’s grateful to see you latch onto her, cozying yourself up to her side in delight. You were more than welcome to crowd her personal space at this point, her usual qualms against physical touch thrown to the wayside when it came to you. It’s the first time she hides her gaze from you, suddenly feeling sheepish. After all this time being away from you, to finally being able to touch you… it’s overwhelmingly mushy. You look at her with such loving intensity. She needs a breather, needs to let her system cool off before she overheats and explodes right here in this alley. She supposes that was just your effect on her– turning her brain to lovesick soup.

“Everyone’s inside waiting… and probably peeking through the windows, so let’s head in.” Mizu grits her teeth, reminded of the teasing she endured in your absence.

“Okay,” You tell her, leaning your head to rest on her shoulder. “I missed you, you know.”

She’s more than relieved to hear it, any doubts she had washing away with your kind words. “Of course I know.”

You’re the first one to head to the door, holding it open for her as she effortlessly carries in the duffel of cash. Everyone approaches you hospitably, shaking hands with you and giving their thanks for the gold jewelry you’d gifted them. It puts your nerves at ease how cordial they are, seemingly liking you. While Mizu and you would be traveling away from them, you were glad to know you had their approval. Hopefully, if time soothed these wounds, you could write or visit them without worry for any consequences.

A few of them head into the other room, gathering up all the materials needed for the next step of your plan. It gives you a few minutes alone with Mizu, which you welcome.

“Will you ask me now?” You plant your hands at her collarbones, looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You really are infuriating,” Mizu huffs, but her pinkening complexion states otherwise. She lets her knuckles brush your cheek, using her thumb to tilt your chin. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” You mutter.

Mizu takes her time. There’s an eternity beyond this that leaves her craving something chaste with you. Craving the way her lips land on your forehead first. To your cheeks, where her nose nudges at your heated skin. Dotting the tip of your nose as she watches the excitement in your eyes grow, up until your lids close in anticipation. It’s only then does she bring her mouth to yours, her hands landing on your waist. Her kiss is tame, short-lived yet expressing all she had in store for you after you two made your escape. When she pulls away you follow after her, planting one more peck on her lips. Abruptly feeling demure, you take a step back, her hands falling back to her sides.

“Sorry…” You mumble, toying with your fingers to distract yourself.

“Don’t be,” Mizu swipes a thumb over the height of your cheekbone. “It’s… cute of you, really. I’ve never had anyone want to be so romantic with me before.”

“Their loss then, isn’t it?” You say as you bump your shoulder into hers.

You spend the next few hours getting fussed over. In order to make everything go as smoothly as possible, you’d be clothing yourself with a more masculine disguise. Besides, as a noble– or, former noble, at least– you would be more recognizable. Not that you had ever personally left your estate, but you’re sure your fiance has already had the news spread wide and far, guards looking everywhere for you two. With everything in place, you look like the typical man you’d see on the street. Your hair’s been made to appear short, a suit that’s just a little too large draping your frame, and you even have a patch of false facial hair to stick onto your upper lip when you’re ready. Mizu, of course, finds this amusing.

“Honestly,” She’s snickering from behind you. “You don’t look all that bad like this.”

“Is this how you felt when we were on the train together?” You ask, peering into the mirror as you took in your current image.

“Sort of,” Mizu shrugs, her voice lowering to that husky, flirty tone of hers. “Mostly I was thinking about how I must’ve looked more like your husband than Taigen. How I should’ve put you right in my lap and kissed you.”

“You should’ve.” Your eyes dart over to where she stands in the reflection of the room, willing yourself to ignore how her comment ignites a warmth in you.

“Logistically, we still needed him then,” Mizu comes up behind you, nose against the back of your neck as she leaves a kiss there. “Trust me, if we didn’t, we would’ve been the ones getting married at that inn.”

“Oh, would we?” You spin around to face her. “I seem to recall us talking about marriage once, specifically you being someone’s wife, and you very much replied that you’d pass.”

She scoffs at that, bowing her head. “That was… before.”

“Before?” You inquire.

“I can’t pin it down to one exact moment, but before it was you who I was picturing getting married to.” Her voice is small, sensitive. “Though, the moment I realized… it was probably that day I saw you kissing Taigen, out in the woods. That day… I really thought he had you. That you had romantic intentions with him.”

“You’re kind of oblivious then, aren’t you?” You smile, rubbing at her arms to try to comfort her. You could tell the sudden vulnerability took a toll on her. “I told you I thought about marrying you on that night I got you all dressed up, when you kept asking if I was really going to wed my fiance.”

She blinks, her memory jogging itself. This time, it catches the way you had stuttered back then, tripping over your words to say you… you’re asking a lot of questions. “Well, you could’ve been a little clearer.” Mizu coughs, covering the lower half of her face with her hand.

“I could’ve.” You laugh at that, shaking your head. “If I was any clearer, maybe you would’ve spoken up sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Her response is curt, to the point. An emotion swims in her eyes that you can faintly recognize– something resembling regret.

“We were both surviving off instinct, trying to escape lives we didn’t want. I’m not going to hold that against you.” You soothe your hand up and down her back, feeling her sink into your touch.

She nods, though anything more she was going to say is interrupted by her colleagues returning to the room. Time for the real work to begin.

Together, after finally applying every piece of your disguise, it was their job to photograph you and prepare your fake passport. Since you’d be traveling under the cover of being a man, they’d have to adjust the picture inside. You had watched over their handiwork, noting the remarkable precision with which everything was completed. Hopefully it’d be up to par. Or, if you had any luck left, the ticket agent wouldn’t scrutinize it too heavily. You waited by the door, observing Mizu saying her goodbyes. Fiddling with the newly made passport in your hand, you tried to quell your anxieties. Everyone had reassured you how convincing the charade was, that you had nothing to worry about. More than anything you wanted to trust and believe them, but with your lives on the line, it was hard to. Or, it is hard, until Mizu finally turns to you and takes you by the hand. All it takes is one squeeze to quell the anxiety you harbored in your chest, one squeeze for your heart to thump wildly with love rather than fear. That coy smile of hers chips away at your resolve until you finally mirror her expression.

“There,” She says with a sense of satisfaction at seeing the upturn of your lips. “Now we can go.”

Arriving at the station, it’s blindingly bright. The surrounding architecture and decoration is bathed in a formless white, the nothingness of it all creating a nauseous twist in your stomach. Going around are a few men holding pamphlets which you can only assume has your image on it. They stop by multiple women, lifting their headwear and examining their facial features. It almost dizzies you, the agonizingly slow pace of the line you’ve slotted yourself into alongside Mizu. You crowd against her back, trying to find comfort in her closeness. In the way her spine dips, in the way you can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin blouse she dons. It softens what you think is the inevitable blow. That the ticket agent will see through your ruse and you’ll be back to hell in no time, but you had been with her until the end, you suppose.

So when he seamlessly– seamlessly as in Mizu takes care of everything while you freeze in doom behind her– exchanges your two tickets to Vladivostok for two tickets to Shanghai, you’re stunned. While he had checked a few lists, it wasn’t done with any sort of urgency or genuine belief that either of you were the women being searched for. You stand there, locked in place until her fingers curl around your wrist and beckon you to get a move on to board the ferry.

Reaching the deck, the sun has begun its descent, washing you both in a hazy orange. Mizu, wordlessly, takes a step towards you and tries her best to gently peel the fake mustache off your upper lip. She chuckles as she does so, feeling a flicker of heat crawl up your veins. As she pulls off the ring Taigen had given you, it’s a weight lifted. Many weights lifted. It’s a first for you. The idea that if you look over your shoulder, no one will be chasing after you, desperate to lock you away. Safe. Safe, with Mizu’s eyes sparkling like you’ve never seen before and the sun framing her in a halo, you’re safe. All you feel you can do is press a kiss to her lips, hoping everything you wish to tell her is translated in the way you give yourself to her.

The way you urge her below deck, to the room you had been assigned. It’s a beautiful one, decked in grandeur. There’s a few chairs and a larger couch in the room, accompanied by two porthole windows facing the night. That deep blue, sprinkled with a dusting of silvery stars was suddenly no longer a dream. And neither was Mizu. Here, in this private space, you could shed your hat and undo the pins in your hair. It allowed you a moment to breathe, stepping over to the luggage you had packed.

You turn to Mizu, looking at her expectantly. “I… brought something,” You’re muttering, a dash of embarrassment apparent in the way you speak. “For us, I mean.”

She takes the sleek black box you hand her, one adorned in ornate golden flowers and held together by a teal rope, tassel on the end.

“We don’t have to.” You’re quick, nearly stumbling over yourself.

“I haven’t even opened it yet.” Mizu throws an eyebrow up at you. Her movements halt, showing her concern. Her care, for she won’t open it if you really rather her not.

“Well,” You gulp. “You can.”

“Okay. I will.”

And she does.

There’s a tremble in the way she coughs as it opens to reveal two pairs of bells, each one on a length of rope. You can see the way her grip tightens, knuckles paling.

“Like I said, we… we don’t have to,” You’re putting your hands over hers, attempting to close the box. “I just thought, maybe to celebrate…”

Mizu wrenches the box back towards her, your hands falling waywardly to your side. Clearing her throat, she finally tears her gaze away from the bells to look at you.

“We can.” She tells you, pupils blown as you stare into their inky darkness. Inky like letters on a page you once read, pages you’d wished were her.

The unfiltered husk of adoration in her voice wracks through you, your mouth drying in surprise. “You’re sure?” You all but squeak. “Just because I want to doesn’t mean-”

“I want to,” Mizu says plainly. “I was only taken aback for a moment because of how much I want to.”

“Oh, then…” You bounce on your heels, hands clasped together in a nervous energy, unsure of how to move your body or exist in this space with Mizu’s confession.

She gingerly places the open box aside for now, stepping forward. Her chest flush against your own, it causes you to jolt slightly.

“Can I show you?” Mizu asks, and you find yourself fixated on the way her lips move, the way cockiness and desire and love swirl together in the syllables she speaks.

“Show me how the Count would?” Your skittish nature propels forward this joke of yours.

“Funny,” Mizu huffs, exhaling from her nose. “No, I’m going to show you how your wife would.”

There’s a powerful beat of your heart that almost knocks itself out of your chest before she’s arching into you, her mouth descending on you with quickness. To meet at the juncture of your jaw, curling around to your cheek as her palm takes residence on the side of your neck. Holding you in place, her thumb sits below your ear with a firm pressure. There’s a shine in her eyes, a teary glaze over them as you feel this newfound sense of freedom settle over the two of you. It all culminates, crescendos to the extraordinary point of your lips meeting. It’s paradoxically finite, the first yet the last. Singular yet familiar. The bookend of a story never told.

Something entirely yours.

Something that can be met only with the clutching of fabric, a blouse that’d sooner be torn to shreds if you had any lack of self control. Neither of you are a stranger to the machinations of this devotion, but you find yourself quelling the more primal depths of your brain. Beyond this ferry your life laid in wait, and you’re sure– or hopeful, rather– that you’d have more than enough opportunities to indulge yourself. Instead you let your hands roam, memorizing the texture beneath your palms, the silken smoothness of her as Mizu’s tongue parts your lips. It’s a simple motion with a simple response yet it sparks a heat of lightning through you all the same. Courses even stronger when her lithe fingers travel down the expanse of your sternum, languidly unbuttoning your dress shirt. Remorse paints her face as she pulls away from you, a physical pain at even the notion of being apart. Her chest heaves with a shuddering breath, helping you discard your stiff suit jacket to the side. Trailing a finger down your middle, following the path of undone buttons, she gulps. The softness of your skin underneath the rough pad of her fingerprint, a silent wish that those ridges could impart a brand upon you– and the same for her, as she’d welcome any mark of yours on her flesh.

That wish turns out to be fleeting– there are no barriers here, no line she can’t cross without your desire for her to do so– she herself can grant them. So she allows her teeth to sink into the skin bare to her. The column of your throat is granted no mercy, not now when you’re melting from the heat of her mouth. Not now when there’s no longer the lingering threat of someone else finding the flowers of reds and purples and yellows she’ll plant on you. Teeth laying claim on every inch she can muster, licking at the bruises blossoming. She pants against your neck, your hands tight around her biceps to hold yourself steady. Mizu is damn near ravenous, starvation fueling her as she is finally able to satiate herself with something she’s been denied for so long. Blood pumps through her with a thunderous current, radiating through her cheeks so warmly you can feel it.

“You know, right?” Mizu rasps, nose pushing your unbuttoned shirt to the side so she can latch herself to the nape of your neck.

“Know what?” You breathe, a particularly hard bite of hers causing you to mewl.

“That I love you,” She’s sliding a hand upwards, slipping your sleeve down your shoulder to expose even more of you to her. “I love you.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” You nod, heart throbbing. You’re sure she can feel the pound of it as her lips glide along your heated skin. “I love you too.”

“My name, please, say it.” Mizu asks sheepishly.

She tries not to dwell on the pang of selfishness she feels at the request. How long had she spent forsaking certain pleasures to steel herself to a world that has never wanted her? Is it so wrong to let herself whittle that world down, to pinpoint her existence to the way your voice calls for her? The way your voice wraps itself up in honey and coats her bones in the sickeningly sweet urge to live.

“I love you, Mizu.”

There’s a desperateness to the way she shuffles backwards, fully disrobing you of your shirt, torso completely in the nude now. The glow of her cheeks almost implies a drunken state, eyes glossed over and lips shining. It’s not long before she’s back to it, only this time she nuzzles her mouth to the side of your breast. Your wrists are enclosed in her hands now, leaving you still in your place as she works the fat into the grip of her teeth. Moving inward, it’s sudden when she pulls your nipple taut, releasing only when she hears the hitch of your breath and feels the squirm of your thighs. Her breath ghosts along your skin with a chuckle at your reaction, knowing there’s not much you can do other than relent and take whatever she offers you. You more than welcome it though, a distinct restlessness pumping through you.

“Mizu,” You plead, as she’s now turned her attention to the opposite breast. “To the… to the couch over there, at least, please?”

The want drips off your voice in waves, ones that fill Mizu’s lungs and snaps her out of her trance. You’re hauled into her arms, feet off the floor as she carries you with ease. Unceremoniously plopped onto the plush cushions of the loveseat, Mizu now stands tall over you.

Running your hands up and down her thighs over her pants, you peer up at her curiously. “May I undress you?”

Her fingers curl at the base of your skull, thumb caressing back and forth. “Sure, princess.”

You snort at the nickname, rolling your eyes, but the endearment in her voice enchants you. Tucking into the waistband of her pants, you pull them downwards at a teasingly slow pace. You grin, a quirk of irritation present in the furrow of her brow. As they pool at her ankles, you move to work the tie of her blouse undone. Mizu shakes it off, joining the pile of clothes amassing in whatever corner of the room they’ve been tossed to. She’s rid of her underclothes just as quickly, naked before you now. In another swift motion, her hair cascades down the flow of her shoulders and falls along her. It’s her natural state, all the prim and properness of her attire unfastened by your doing. Every tense muscle of hers melts, this way. Shoulders dropping, lids fluttering, chest sinking with a sigh. Melts her into a syrupy puddle taking form in your palms. There is no end to the blessing you feel, not when you’re the one she looks down upon so expectantly. Your hands trace down her lower back, over the swell of her ass and you end up with your thumbs dug into the meat of her thighs. Ghosting your mouth at her hip, you nip at the protruding bone there. She hisses, the slight pain making her wince. But you see her writhe, feel the way her hand comes to rest at your shoulder and she subtly starts to tremble. Secretly, she’s expressive to a degree where she’s easily readable, if you’re trained to see it.

Expressive and sensitive. There’s a high whine of her voice as your tongue swipes along the crease of her thigh, closing the distance between you and where she very much wants you to be. Stopping at her inner thigh, you decide it’s your turn to grace her skin with bruising hues, teeth settling into her. Her breaths sound adjacent to hiccups, like when one can’t get a full inhale before exhaling again. Like all she’s ever done was wait for you, hoping you’d kneel at her altar. You give her your worship in the form of fingernail tracks down the backs of her legs and teeth marks following a circular path. Up one thigh, arcing across the curve of her lower belly, down the next thigh. She was your Mizu, your very own deviously angelic sight to behold. In her eyes swam the prayer she wanted you to recite– and you would.

You use your thumbs to part her lower lips, opening her up to you. You’re in awe of her always, momentarily lost in the glistening of her arousal you’re met with. Bringing your mouth to her, you feel your lids flutter at the first hint of her taste, the first twitch of her thighs. Your nose is nuzzled into the pudge of her mons pubis, the faint curls of hair there. Eagerly, you trace your tongue over her cunt in rolling circles that have her whimpering, zinging through the silence directly to your own heat. Sucking at her clit, you can feel her hips stutter, her fingers reaching to your hair and pulling. You gasp, panting hot breaths against her. Using your hair, she grinds herself into you, your accepting mouth, as you grab at her thighs and hope you get smothered. It’d be a fine way to go, is all you can think. Mizu’s wetness stains the sides of your practically drooling mouth, coating even your chin in a sticky luster. She shallowly bumps her clit across your tongue, as you begin to notice her thighs shaking in your periphery.

“Close…” Mizu whispers down at you, the hold on your hair morphing into more of a gentle grasp. More of a caressing coddle, keeping you flush to her pussy.

You think it’s the way you look up at her that does her in– the flutter of your lashes, the way your tongue is held out for her to just use, the overwhelming gleam of your eyes that just scream please. Arms wrapped around her thighs, you keep her upright as her knees wobble, pitchy breaths in your ear as she rides out the shocks of her orgasm.

You can’t help but laugh into her inner thigh, elation tickling up your throat at how much you love her. How beautiful she is, how lucky you are.

Mizu’s brow furrows again, her trembling beginning to finally cease as she straddles your lap. Those fancy slacks you have on are quickly darkened at the contact.

“What’s so funny?” She’s quite obviously still breathless, but stubbornly she must question you anyway.

“Nothing’s funny, promise.” You lean backwards, causing her body to curve into yours. The way her heart is always searching to be close to your own, some sort of echolocation using the ever in tune beats. Your palm follows her spine, up the bumps of each vertebrae, coming to rest between her shoulder blades.

Mizu, reaching between your smushed together bodies, cants her hips in such a way so that she can finally undo your trousers. Aiding her, you lift up so she can successfully get them off of you, though it’s still a bit of a struggle. It takes a second but she also manages to maneuver you into the position she’d like you in– something that’s clearly never been a challenge to her thanks to her strength. You’re sprawled out, laying on your back and she’s between your legs, sitting on her knees. With one of your legs balanced on her shoulder, she smiles, greeting your ankle with a coy kiss. Like this, she has more than enough room to dip a hand between your thighs. Enough room to roughly press her thumb to your clit, swallowing harshly as she hears that first moan of yours break through. Spurred on by the way your head lolls back, her fingertips find your entrance with ease. You had been nearly soaked through your trousers, not to mention your underclothes, making the first thrusts of her fingers smooth. She curls them within you, prodding at that soft spot that has you cooing in wanton delight.

Mizu wants nothing more than to paint your image into the deepest recesses of her mind, make you a mural on every neuron. She’s relentless with her motions, the back and forth drag of her fingers, sculpting you to the shape of her until that’s all your body could manage to remember. With her free hand, she urges your lips open with her thumb. Of course, she knows by now how intelligent you are, how fiery you can be if really put to the test. There’s still a twinge of pride in her at the way you still so obediently take her thumb into your mouth, already twisting your tongue around it to sufficiently wet it. The way there’s no metal to dull the feeling, the way there never will be. Of everyone she’d seen you reject, of all the times she’d wondered what your true feelings were… those were all dashed away. You loved her, a certainty that no longer chilled her to the bone with dread. Rather, her heart constricts itself into the outline of a thimble, squeezing with a vigor that almost makes her cry. No shame or embarrassment prickling her teary eyes, just the cool relief of knowing.

It has her collapsing into you, mouth meeting yours in a wet fervor as your leg slips down from her shoulder. There’s an insatiable appetite that fuels her, makes her want to know no other sensation than the way you wrap around her fingers, the way you simultaneously crumble against the cushions yet arc up into her touch. Your arms become something much like angel wings to her, how they wrap around her shoulders in a protective shield, restraining her so close to you that whatever heaven lies between you two is nothing more than a mere sliver. Her chest rumbles with a groan as she feels the sting of your nails in her back, feels you start to spasm every time she crooks her fingers, feels the way your breath sputters into little hitched hums.

“I know, I know…” Mizu utters into your hair, vulnerable and wanting.

Hearing the reverence in her voice shatters you, every wire in your body snapping with a broken, choked moan. She continues to work at you regardless, though her pace slows as the crash wears off.

“Mizu!” You huff, giving a half-hearted, feeble attempt to swat at her arm.

“Sorry.” She wets her lips with her tongue, looking down at you with a lopsided grin, one that borders on mischievous as she slips her digits out of you and watches your thighs quiver.

You take a moment to recuperate, eyes closed and neck craned backwards to nestle into the couch. Mizu’s weight on top of you is lifted, and you hear the padding of her steps around the room. What really causes you to perk up though is the abrupt chime of bells, eyes snapping open to see her standing before you again, box in hand.

“You still want to, right?”

“Yes,” You clear your throat, raising yourself to your knees. “If you do?”

Mizu takes the same position, facing you as she kneels. The previous hesitance you harbored starts to dwindle even further as she stamps a chaste kiss to your lips, shaking her head in a nod. You’re sure the two of you are more than prepared, a sense of calm easing over you. Those stories that had once seemed so impure, so terrifying to face no longer existed. This was not an act of imitation or entertainment– this was you tangling one soul to another, willingly giving yourselves to each other without any malice.

Something like giddiness bubbles in Mizu’s chest as she finally holds one pair of bells, face flushing at the simple implication of it. One of her knuckles grazes at your lips, a silent acknowledgement. Open. When you do, she guides the silver charms into your mouth, one at a time. It’s an odd sensation, the weight of them on your tongue unlike anything you’d experienced before. Mizu’s eyes watch, mystified as you suckle, soaking them in a layer of spit. Even more mystified when she drags them out by the rope, moonlight catching on their shimmering appearance. Flame like redness blazes ever brightly as she cups her palm underneath you, the cold surface of the first bell prodding at your entrance. You take deep breaths, parting your thighs a bit more so she can gain some more leverage. In an attempt to ground yourself you crane your neck downward to rest against her shoulder, but Mizu shakes her head at this. Face cradled in her other hand, her thumb caresses at your cheek.

“I…” Mizu breathes, unsure of how to approach her desire. “I want to see you take it.”

You nod, throat constricting and unable to vocalize as you feel yourself take the bell inside you, finally. It’s not necessarily painful, just a slight discomfort at the foreign intrusion. Still, the anticipation excited you. You’re sure you must seem a disheveled mess but you knew it wouldn’t be long before Mizu was one too, which especially lit a spark in you.

“Is that alright?” She whispers to you, a kiss to your cheek as punctuation.

“Uh-huh, yes,” You tell her, one hand twisted in the fabric of the couch and the other clutching onto her. “More, please?”

When you look at her, she’s dazed momentarily, lost in the way the black of your eyes suggests an infinity, suggests time is circular and you two would find yourselves here over and over. She could only hope so.

“Of course, anything you want,” Mizu tells you. “Whatever you ask of me, I’ll answer.”

The other bell, directed by her hand, nudges into you with less difficulty than the last. An unusual fullness, unlike Mizu’s fingers– or your own, for that matter– one that sends you into a bit of a head rush. Woozy, cunt pulsing as you stave off the satisfaction of release until you can pleasure your lover as well. A distinct tremor in your fingers as you reach for the other set of bells, letting them chime as you raise them up. Eyes glued to the pale, barely there pink tint of her lips as they encircle the bells one after the other. It strikes you then, how whittled down and pliable she becomes in your hold. All the clay of her rigid angles, frustration and anger smoothened by the wet kiss of your lips upon her jaw, at the furrow of her brow, the corners of her mouth. Piercing ice, that which chills you deeply, turns into an awe-inducing clear sky. Your rumination of her halts at the sharp, pitchy cry that erupts from her. Mizu embraces the first bell sinking in, eyes squinting closed as she adjusts. Heated hushes leave you as your thumb traces over the ridge of her hip bone, soothing any aches.

“Okay,” Mizu mutters, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “That’s… good.”

“Yeah?” You smile, heart trilling with exhilaration– she liked it.

She nods, eyes darting to where your hand holds the next bell under her. Permission, a plea for you to continue. With a gentleness, you push upwards, watching as her body accepts the bell, stretching around it until it settles inside. Mizu sighs, a placated noise as she drops her forehead to your shoulder, urging you to lay back. There’s a faint ringing as you do so, causing a flush to creep along your chest and up your neck, prickling your skin. She just smiles above you, half in disbelief and half in ardor. Trailing her fingers up your thighs, she spreads your legs in such a way to where she can maneuver her own between them. With a quick glance to your face, she rocks herself down onto you, muffled chimes resonating in your ears.

Their ringing crests as she finds rhythm, the clarity of it sending a pulse through you until it buzzes through your fingertips and your toes. It’s the culmination of all you’ve ever wanted, a melody that strikes a chord you had long thought nonexistent. A yearning that had clawed at your very innards to be known, to be given to, to be loved. She buckles, face above yours, red and panting. Lovesick, too, with a foolish grin. Her sweet laughter mixes, collides with the song you two create, hurling you off the deep end as you join her. Join her in this composition, all those shattered bits of you crooning a harmony until your halves become a whole.

Until the hymn of all your adulation reaches heaven.

a/n: the final part!! i'm really sorry for the long wait between chapters, especially this being the last one. i experienced a lot of technical difficulties and personal life happenings so it took quite a bit. still, i hope this is a satisfying conclusion, i hope people enjoy the story because it meant so much to me to write and have fun with and see everyone's reactions. thank you for reading, everyone!! i appreciate everyone's patience and kindness so much more than i can describe. also, not entirely sure when/what i'll be writing or posting next. i hop around from interest to interest a lot so there's no guarantee there will be more bes related works so soon after this one, but feel free to leave suggestions in my ask box or in the comments!

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

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