#rather i'm trying to say that it's far more comforting to hear that you don't have to be The Best Person at all times

[vanillebunny]

Heyyy I saw you’re taking request so here’s a fun one! Can I request a hurt/comfort Thanos x reader post games fic? A soft reunión if you will! Obviously an AU where either the X votes win OR where Thanos actually survives his supposed death and gets out. I’m thinking he and the reader got super close during the games but completed lost track of each other afterwards. And one day they just do happen to reunite ☺️

a/n: hi anon!! thank u so much for requesting!! i keep rewatching squid game js for thanos i have a problem

warnings: light drug use, mentions of addiction, i think thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you don't know how you got into this mess, how you managed to get into a deal so bad that it put you in deep debt. which brought you here, with all these people. in green tracksuits, all of them reduced to a number rather than a name

'it's okay, i'll play a few games, get my money and finally get back to my life' you think to yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket as you look around nervously. you don't know what this was, some form of pyramid scheme--gambling den? whatever it was, it didn't exactly bring ease to your mind

you're startled by the sudden sound of someone behind you, tapping your shoulder. you look back and see a man with purple hair, smiling like an idiot. you furrow your eyebrows, who the hell was this guy?

"seniorita excuse me" he says and smirks, "couldn't help but see you over here, all nervous--please, i know i'm too hot to handle but im sure.." he trails off and looks over you once, twice, before looking back at your face, "you can handle it" he says and you raise your eyebrows, repulsed by his actions. you back away

"who the hell are you?" you say, grossed out by this clearly overly confident guy

"im a legend!" he says and makes a little pose with his hands, "thanos." he says and wiggles his fingers, showing off the different colors of each nails

"thanos?" you scoff, "as in...that guy from the movies?" you say and he nods, wiggling his fingers even more to really emphasize the so called infinity stone colored nails

"don't worry seniorita! i have all the power in the world to protect you from these demons!" he says and surrounds you, looking at the people around you exaggeratedly, all of whom don't even spare him a second glance, clearly busy with their own problems

"uh...yeah thanks. im okay" you say and begin to walk away, to the crowd where everyone was listening to the instructions and such.

soon, you were all in the large sandy field, spreading out to begin the game. red light, green light they said. all of this just seemed...too easy. there has to be some catch, there's no way you play some child's game and walk out with billions of won

when you go around and take your place, you can hear running, and you look behind you to see none other than that same purple haired freak that was desperately trying to reach you. you roll your eyes and turn away but he was quick to get beside you

"phew! thought i wasn't gonna get to you in time" he says, as if it you two planned to be playing together or something, "don't worry, we'll play these games together--then you, me, billions of won in our hands. you think our kids would be proud of their appa for protecting their eomma and making sure she wins too?" he says and you just raise a brow, huh?

"who said we're playing together?" you say and begin to move away but to your luck, the game begins, and you have no choice but to stay frozen in place. where, thanos was right beside you, smiling triumphantly at the fact that you were still here

as the game begins, the players all seem to be moving calmly, nobody had lost till now. and it was all very relaxed, huh, maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought

but your relaxation went as quickly as it had come. a woman, not too far ahead of you, had a bee fly on her neck. a man beside her informed her about it and she--like any other person, panicked and moved, making her the first loser.

like in any other game, if someone lost they leave the game. so everyone expected her to just walk out, but as soon as she moved, a loud shot was heard. and you froze, the sight of her, falling to the ground--bullet to her head with blood already beginning to pool, you panicked.

what the hell was this? you knew this wasn't right! you knew there was a catch--but this? your heart raced, barely able to hear anyone with you. you watched helplessly as people began running and screaming, each one who moves an inch dies instantly by the shots firing from the sky.

you ran with every inch of strength you had, and just as the giant robotic doll stopped singing, you stopped. a tear streaming down your cheek, but you were too slow to realize--you were about to fall right when she turns her head.

you closed your eyes, accepting your fate. but somehow, you feel yourself still. you open your eyes, your chest heaving, you look down, seeing a pair of feet right beside you, probably the person holding you up

"don't move...okay? i got you" you hear the person say and you instantly know who it is, the same purple haired weirdo that had been trying to flirt with you earlier. his voice is...different though. it's not as cocky as it was before, you could hear a slight tremor, he's probably just as scared as you are

"th...thank you" you whisper out with tears streaming down your cheeks, the two of you continued on. holding on to each other as the game kept going, as soon as you finally reached the finish line, you hugged him tightly.

"thank you...thank you so much" you cry softly, so grateful. you thought he was just another guy that would probably let you die if it meant he wins, but to your surprise he wasnt.

he was a bit taken back by the sudden hug, but hugged you back. "i told you ill make sure you win too didn't i?" he says and you two pull away, and you smile half heartedly. annoyed by the reminder of his remark earlier, but still grateful. "i think it would be...kind of a bad story if i tell our kids i let their eomma die" he says and you shake your head, annoyed

soon, everyone was sitting in the room silently. not a single person was speaking, everyone was quiet. processing what they had just been through. you could see everyone had splashes of blood on them, probably from the people that have been shot around them. you sat alone, till you see thanos come and sit beside you

he's definitely not as scared as he was before, more hyper and aware of things. you could see him unable to sit still, sitting beside you while singing something to himself. he looks at you and grins, "im a kind man! ill share" he says and opens his cross necklace, which was fully supplied with candy. clearly not just any candy and probably the thing making him so hyper

you raise a brow and shake your head, you've been on that road before, it's what got you here. you'd rather not. "thank you...no. not again..." you mutter the last part to yourself, and he slows down his movements, noticing the distant look on your face.

"you try?" he says and you just nod, more to yourself than him.

"you don't wanna get too hopped up on that stuff...it's..not pretty" you say and he instantly closes his necklace, and kind of...just looks ahead, thinking.

soon, the guards come and everyone panics, some people crying and begging for them to spare their life. but the guards just stand there, trying to explain that that's not what's happening. one of the players, 456, suggests the idea that there should be a vote. you look at thanos for a moment

"are you...staying?" you say and he just nods, "i need to! im a legend yknow, this stuff is easy! can't go without my money" he says and you just look down. but he quiets down, "uh...are you?"

you quickly shake your head, "no--no i just...i want to go home." you say and get up to get in line for the vote, and he just follows you.

you vote for x, and go with the group, people cheering for you. thanos was right after you, and you can see him hesitate for a moment. his friend, can be heard telling him to keep playing. but he glances at you, just for a second, and presses x.

why would he do that? but he was in debt, he needs it way more than you do

after that, you woke up in the street. it was all a quick blur, as soon as the votes were counted up. the x votes more than the o. everything fades and you were alone in the street, tied up loosely with your clothes in a pile beside you. you managed to knaw the rope loose, and untied your legs, getting dressed.

the days went by quickly. you don't know what you were doing, but something just felt...wrong. not the games of course, never that. you'd rather die than play them again...but you die in the games too so its not really a good analogy. but anyway, it was just something. you were back on your own, without anyone, as it always was.

and you never did mind. you were used to it, so why was it...so strange now? so wrong?

you roamed the streets of korea, just lost in a daze, not really wondering where you're going. till you reach the arcade that was in the alley, you walk in and bump into someone

"hey! don't you--" the person's voice quickly came to a halt when they looked at you, you looked at them. it was none other than thanos. thanos! you don't know why, or how--but that feeling you've been going through ever since you managed to get out of the games, it was completely gone now.

the two of you looked at each other for a long time, before he smiles. "seniorita! i thought i'd never see you again!" he smiles and jumps around like an idiot. you should be weirded out, leaving and saying you don't want to see this freak again. but you don't. you stay and actually smile back

"this is great! now i have a partner to play with, les gooo!" he says and drags you along with him into the arcade without even giving you a chance to respond. the two of you had spent that time together, playing games and it was actually fun. for the first time you were...enjoying yourself

soon, you were both some convenience store nearby, eating ramen and laughing about how you both suck so bad at playing.

after a while it had grown quiet, and you wanted to just ask.

"...why did you vote x...when we were in the games?" you say and he just kind of looks away for a moment before looking back at you

"well!" he begins, trying to sound cocky, but you can tell he's just putting up a facade, "can't have the future eomma of my kids get hurt now, can i? to not be able...to go home" he says and just looks down, mixing in his ramen

you just look at him for a moment, its all so quiet. he was a freak, a weirdo when you met him. you said to yourself that this guy was clearly another junkie, some asshole thinking hes a big flirt. but right now...all you saw was just...thanos. hes just thanos.

"thank you thanos..." you say, just looking at him, and he stops mixing and looks at you, his cocky expression fading.

"choi su bong...my name...is choi su bong. thanos is just for...the ones i keep at a distance" he mutters and looks down, his hands--as if trying to reach for his cross necklace again, but you can hear him sigh when he realizes its not there

"did you lose it?" you ask and he shakes his head

"no...im not on that stuff anymore. well im trying at least." he says and you're surprised, you're pretty sure just a few days ago he was offering you a full stock.

"why's that?' you ask and he just looks back at you

"it's not pretty" he says, repeating your exact words. "well..still a long way to go but im starting" he says and nods to himself and you just smile

"you can do it...i know you can" you say and--mentally facepalm at what you're about to do, but you don't care that much. you hold up your hands and make the exact same pose he made to you when you were at the games, "you're a legend, thanos! this is easy" you say and he just chuckles at your attempt to imitate him

"yeah well i got you with me seniorita" he says softly, but quickly returns to his cocky expression, "im unstoppable now!"

you don't know what this was exactly. but whatever it is...you were happy with it

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know the thing about writing feral/unhinged versions of Orion/Optimus, is that you can't go too far into the feral/unhinged direction to a point where OP's core character traits are lost or become too diminished. After all, in a multiple-continuity franchise like TF, part of what makes the stories make sense is that even if details change (sometimes major details), the characters are still recognizably themselves to one degree or another. (Although this isn't always the case due to executive meddling or some characters being such blank slates from their initial G1 appearances that there's basically nothing to model them off of, but I digress.)

It's pretty much another reason why I love IDW1 Optimus, bc he literally is a canonical feral/unhinged Optimus who's unhinged as a direct consequence of who he is as a person and what he's been through. Like, he still has those fundamental character traits of trying his best to be moral and make good choices, trying to be a role model, etc, except after 4 million years of war and untreated depression he's basically holding onto his sense of self by his fingertips. So when he "goes feral" e.g. losing his temper and beating up/killing people or saying hurtful things, he's feral in a way that's directly tied to his normal personality and not just as a random quirk he has.

IDW OP's feral moments arise from the gaps between "Optimus' attempts to be who he thinks he needs to be" and "the reality of the world that he can't fix/seems to only make worse" that cause him to lose hope, or become cynical, or lose his temper. But in this case, the unhinged-ness makes perfect sense because it arises out of Optimus trying and failing to be the best person or to make the most morally good choices he's trying to make. Basically, the "feral/unhinged" label is just another way of me trying to say that he's not just unhinged because he's weird or because he's a bad person, but because it's an emotional reaction (more like an emotional explosion due to pent-up emotions) to the context he exists in.

I'd also say that IDW OP's personality being generally reserved/stoic and (trying to be) noble works in tandem with those moments he has of going feral because it makes him more realistic. His psyche is treated in a way where the writers are like, "Hey what if the pressure of having to be everyone's idol and be the best person in the galaxy at all times actually broke Optimus down mentally and emotionally?" It makes IDW OP far more relatable. Instead of naturally being a perfect Christ-like figure who never wavers in his morals or convictions and is just naturally a nice person who always has the wisest and best answer, being a good person is something that IDW OP has to consciously strive to be. Even when he feels like it's useless, or the cycle of violence will never stop, or any attempts he makes to help only ends up with things becoming worse.

And I feel like this does a service not only to IDW Optimus as a character, but also as a sort of moral/philosophical perspective for the reader to ponder upon? I feel like culture at large (or at least my experience of it) tends to believe that "goodness" in a person is simply an innate feature that people are born/not born with, and that being "good" means that you must be good at all times, both in your actions as well as the way you feel emotionally about yourself and the world. Like, there's a tendency for our vision of "a good person" to be good in every aspect at all times without having to try to be a good person. So I think IDW Optimus' character stands as a good example of how someone can be good at heart but still struggle to maintain those feelings of optimism and hope and justice. It's a good idea to have such a paragon of a character (in-universe and out-of-universe) be so conflicted and to even be mistaken, misguided, or make things worse because it shows that goodness is as much about "trying to behave/act in a way that is good" and not just "existing as an innately good person."

It's way more realistic for a person to want to be good, try to be good, and sometimes/often fail than it is for them to just be a good person. I enjoy the fact that IDW Optimus is both a good person at heart, but also has to strive to be a good person and live up to other people's expectations of what they see in him. I like how he wants to be a good person and change society for the better, but he also spends a good amount of time either feeling hopeless and alone or being angry at/detached from other people because of how frustrated they make him. He's realistically portrayed as someone who wants to be good and hopeful and change things for the better, but is also mentally and emotionally broken by that burden because of how impossible it is for him to Fix Everything and be the Perfect Prime/Leader/Autobot that people see him as. It's this fascinating mixture of "yes, this is who he is as a person" but also "there are things he desires to be that he could never possibly become or live up to."

This got really far off based from feral/unhinged Optimus sdklfjaslkdlfkas. The TLDR is that if people want unhinged OP, I feel like they should give IDW OP a chance because he IS unhinged but he's unhinged in a way that's a realistic/thematic representation of how being an Absolute Good is impossible. And how being a good person isn't just about Existing And You Are A Good Person, but rather goodness is a constant state of flux in which you adjust, you make mistakes, you lose your temper and feel hopeless, but then you pick yourself up and try again.

Also IDW OP really likes climbing in dangerous wilderness and jumping out of flying vehicles which I think is very feral and sexy of him to do.

[lymtw]

hello Mal!!! i have a nsfw req for toji x shy reader cuz they’re my fav and i literally think about it 24/7.

shy reader who’s not as vocal during sex with toji bc she gets nervous :( so he edges her til she squirts for the first time but only if she uses her voice!!!

A/N: Hello, hello! Thank you for reading and for sending this request in ☺️💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

"What are you doing down there?" Toji asks, finally giving in to the distraction of you sitting at his feet, rather than sitting next to him.

"I'm watching the movie," you respond, with an innocent amount of truthfulness. You don't turn around to look at him, so you're met with a poke to your shoulder. That instinctively makes you turn your head in the direction of the contact.

"The couch is too big. Even for me, doll. Come sit." He pats the spot next to him and shifts where he sits, as if making even more room for you.

Your eyes flit between him and the cushion for a couple seconds before you respond. "I'm okay staying here. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." You smile, kindly, and turn back to face the screen again.

Toji's brows furrow in misunderstanding. He taps your shoulder again, receiving the same look when you turn, again. You tilt your head in question.

"You wouldn't be making me uncomfortable. Far from it, with the enormous gap of space that would be between us. What if I wanted you to sit between my legs, instead?" He catches the way your eyes widen for a split second, your inhibition cleared for the short span of time. "Come sit, baby," he repeats, this time patting the unoccupied space of the cushion he's sitting on.

You don't want to make him wait any longer. The movie is still playing, you'll both lose track of the plot if you take any longer. You stand from your place on the ground and move to sit next to him. As soon as you bend down to sit, his hands go to your hips and he pulls you so that you fall into the place he wanted you in.

"There you go. Now pay attention to the movie."

–

You try for him. You're trying so hard to ignore the pressure of his forearms around your waist, and the warmth of his wrists against the sliver of skin revealed by your slightly lifted shirt. You can occasionally hear him sigh through his nose, only further adding on to the tension you feel upon sitting between his legs. You don't even know how he's watching the movie. You feel like you're obstructing his vision.

The movie ends and you're left staring at the title screen.

"Okay, movie's over. You probably want me off-"

"No." His arms fasten even more around you. "I'm comfortable. Are you not?"

"N-No, I am. It's just... I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep me here for a whole other movie."

"I could keep you here longer than that, doll." He straightens his posture and readjusts your position, so that he's not slouching and you're not leaning back uncomfortably. He can feel the tension surface on your body as you go rigid in his hold. He can't help but let out a small laugh at how this detail never ceases with you. "Relax, baby. What's got you so nervous?" He rests his chin on your shoulder and turns to get a better look at your face. "Hm?" He plants a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Nothing, I guess. We're just watching movies," you say, more as a reminder for yourself.

"Mhm. Watching movies... on the verge of cuddling..." he mumbles, into your neck. "Nothing to be nervous about."

His hands splay over your lower abdomen and you think he might be caressing your skin so sensually to mess with you after having said all those things to comfort you, but he's not relenting on the joke. He's kissing your shoulder, aiming to relieve you of some of your anxiety so that your body can melt into comfort. It has some effect on you, your nerves being mixed with something hot, now.

"We can do more than cuddling, if you want," he hums, grinning at the way you shudder. "You know, i've been dying to hear that pretty voice of yours."

"What?" you say, laughing nervously, like you misheard him.

"You've got a really nice voice, baby. I swear, I could listen to you talk, endlessly. Wish you would use it when I take you to bed. You don't make a peep, doll."

You go silent. Not because you're upset with him, or because what he said isn't true, but because you can't think of how to respond to that. You didn't think he was monitoring the sounds you make. He never said anything about it before. You figured maybe he preferred the silence.

"It's embarrassing..." you finally mumble, quickly turning around to right what may have come out wrong. "F-For me! Just me. You're fine to make all the sound you want. It's... it's just me." You turn back around to hide the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks.

"Why is it embarrassing? Am I not making you feel good enough?"

You can't let him feel that way.

"No, Toji- That's not- No, no, no. That's not the case, at all." You unwind his arms from your torso and turn to face him. You fully sit on his lap, and though the eye contact that comes after you wrap your legs around him was like having three cups of coffee on an empty stomach for your heart, you summed up the courage because it's not fair to let him think that way when it's the exact opposite. "I just..." you let out a small sigh. "I don't wanna be loud. I don't want you to hear me. God... I can barely even look at you when we... you know." You look down at where your hands absentmindedly rested on his stomach. "Sorry."

He's just smiling at you because he finds your entire existence beside him to be endearing. His hands go to yours. "I get to stare at your pretty face the entire time." He grins, watching the way your cheeks burn and how you try to distract yourself from his gaze by fidgeting with his hands. "You always look so good, ma. Bet you sound just as pretty."

There was so much tension in the silence that followed. He started playing with your hands. He would interlock his fingers with yours before slowly detangling your hands and repeating the process, flipping your hands this time. He got to feel the smoothness of your unpainted nails on the pads of his fingers, and he traced the lines etched into your palms.

Things got out of hand. One minute you were holding hands and laughing to yourselves with thoughts of how silly yet necessary the moment was, the next you were both undressing, and kissing like you missed each other terribly. He has his hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his cock while you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He's groaning and panting at the feeling of your velvety walls hugging him so tightly, and you just release little breaths into his neck, occasionally gasping when he hits a sensitive spot, as per usual.

"Baby," he pants, "let me hear you. Give me those pretty sounds."

"G-Gonna cum," you whisper, your breath becoming heavier with every upwards thrust of his hips.

"Not if you don't let me hear you."

He can feel you clenching around him more frequently. It's a telltale sign of your orgasm rolling in, so he immediately stops. Both of you are unsatisfied, but Toji can handle it for as long as it takes you to make a sound that isn't just your breathing. He can tell you want to, too, with the occasional squeaks that leave you.

"I-I was gonna-"

"And I meant what I said." He's just as edged and frustrated as you are. Despite not getting the sounds he wants from you so easily, you're still make him feel really good. Your touch, the skin-to-skin of you clinging onto him—it's enough to bring him towards the edge as well, and it takes every ounce of restraint for him to stop. He squeezes your waist when he sees the look of helpless desperation on your face. "You know I have all the patience when it comes to you, doll. We can do this all night. I just wanna know—audibly—that I'm making you feel as good as you say I am. Alright?"

You sigh, but nod in understanding.

"Good. Let's try that again."

Despite your gesture of comprehension, you're doing the same thing all over again. You're feeling good, you're comfortable and Toji sounds immensely hot as he continues to drive you up and down his length. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face once again buried into the crook of it. All that can be heard from you is your breathing, the warm air fanning over his already heated skin.

"Doll," he calls, feeling the way you mouth at his shoulder and neck.

"Please, just a little longer. Please," you murmur, feeling that spike in pleasure return again.

"Doll, you're not..." he groans. He knows he has to stop or you'll get what you want, and what he wants will be pushed aside. "You're not letting me hear your pretty voice."

"Please, please, please, Toji. I-I'm right there..."

"Uh-uh." With heavy hands weighing down your hips like cinder blocks, you're once again denied of that weakening force of pleasure.

"T-Toji," you utter, weakly. You drag your face down to his chest, and allow all the heavy breaths of the forceful stop to come out. Your cunt is throbbing, viciously. You're aching for more of him.

The man who usually caved to your every want and put your needs before everything, was suddenly being incredibly selfish with your pleasure, stopping every time you say you're close. You think you can find a way around it by just not warning him, but he knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows every one of the signs that come with your orgasms, making it pointless for you to try to evade his torture. He's done it to the point where you feel like mush, sluggishly lying against him.

"Look at me, doll. Lift your head."

"Mm-mm." You shake your head against his shoulder.

"Be good." He chuckles at your stubbornness and allows a hand to rest on your lower back. "I'm trying to give you what you want, so would you just look at me."

You sigh, before you start peeling yourself, little by little, off of him.

He immediately notices the involuntary lift of your lips. "Ooh, look at that pout. Could've just told me you wanted a kiss, doll." He smirks, watching as you turn your head slightly to hide the scorch on your cheeks. It's not the main thing you wanted, but you weren't mad when he did pull you in for a kiss, because he started moving his hips again, the pace slow as your lips remained locked. That slow pace was how every one of these torturous cycles started out, but this time it was different. It was now harder to get what you wanted.

"Eyes on me, baby, or I stop."

"I can't- Please, Toji." You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, again. You want to hide yourself from those eyes of his that never fail to make you feel vulnerable.

"Eyes on me... or I stop," he repeats, calmly, as if enduring all of these stops is such a simple task for both of you. You look at him, and immediately feel like you're being swallowed whole. You feel like he's eating you alive with just his gaze. The sweat beading on his forehead, the tint of color on his cheeks, the lust that simmers in his eyes… it's an insane visual. It's overwhelming.

He sees it, though. The way you try to still your bottom lip as it quivers, the way your chest spasms from holding it all in, your pleading eyes. It's all so... you. So fragile, so timid, so small. So beautiful.

"Good girl. Yeah... just look at me," he instructs, and you whimper. Your gaze falls to his chest as embarrassment floods you at light speed. Your hands reach out for him like they do when you're ready to wrap your arms around him again, but he intercepts them. The brief noise homed into Toji's ears, and rushed straight down to his dick. He can't afford to be deprived of your facial expressions when he now knows what your pretty voice sounds like when it's laced with need. "Fuck... again. Do it again, princess. I heard that loud and clear."

"P-Please. Please, let me go back." You test the strength of his grip, twisting your wrists in his hold. He responds by pushing your arms behind you, the edge of his palms grazing your lower back with every bounce of you on his cock.

"What did I say, baby? Huh? Lift your head and look at me." When you refuse to listen and keep staring at his chest, he decides to give you a countdown for when he's going to stop. "Three..."

"No! Okay, okay," you say, complying with lifting your gaze. Your pleasure skyrockets when you make eye contact with him. He gives you a little smirk, like he's proud of you for showing him that you'll always be good for him, even if you're stubborn about it.

"Shit, mama. You feel so fucking good. Might just cum before you, if you keep this up."

You moan at the threat and bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from looking away again. Every sound you let slip makes Toji pick up the pace of his thrusts. They're always precise, so with the speed rising, you think you might catch up to his pleasure. "Please, Toji. Please." The second plead comes out as a whine. "Please, i'm... um..." you hum, shutting your eyes briefly at the sensation of him prodding your sensitive spot again and again. "I'm..." Another whimper slips out.

"Yeah?" He murmurs, watching you struggle to finish your thought, through lidded eyes. "Get it out. All of it."

You're cracking. Your little moans are becoming more and more audible. "I'm trying." You gasp, the breath coming out shaky.

Toji is devouring all of it. His focus is unbreakable, and his thoughts of you are greedy. He wants more than what you're giving him. He wants you to be louder, he wants you to scream his name, he wants to make you cum so hard that you let go of all that embarrassment and moan freely for him.

He removes one of his hands from your wrists, keeping them restrained with his other hand, so that he can toy with your clit. The rush of pleasure makes you twitch above him, a sweet moan instantly released by you. You feel so flustered, you can't hold the sounds back as well as before. It's the unfaltering look he throws at you. He has no trouble holding eye contact with you.

He's obsessed with this show you're putting on for him. The way you're crumbling for him, slowly giving in and losing your tentativeness towards making sound. You remain overwhelmed by all of it. The heavy breathing, his groans, the rapid movement of his thrusts, his rough thumb stroking your clit, the way you're so lost in the pleasure of it all that you've become just as greedy as him, chasing even more stimulation by grinding your hips against him. It's a loud scene.

"T-Toji, Toji!" You gasp. "I'm- Oh!"

"Oh fuck. Cum," he growls. "Cum, pretty girl. Cum for-"

Your entire body is trembling on top of him. Loud cries fill the room as your orgasm washes over you, in the most unbelievably messy way. Toji is stunned, entirely speechless as he fucks you through this intense orgasm. Your back is arched in so much you think your spine might snap, and you can't for the life of you stop crying out his name. This is one of the most powerful orgasms he has pulled from you, if not the most powerful. Toji's lap is drenched, your ass and the backs of your thighs are wet. It's never happened this way before. Your mind is so clouded, you can't even think of what just happened.

Not even a minute later, Toji mirrors you in experiencing that feeling of pure ecstasy, heavy pants and groans released, carelessly, by him. His warm load is shot into you, adding on to the mess when it begins to drool out of you and down his length.

You're both breathless, left frozen in your positions for a good amount of time, while you think about what just happened. You come down from your blissful state first and can't even think to look at him. You pull your hands out of his weakened grip and rest them on your thighs and just stare at them until he says something. You don't know what to say, so you'll let him do the talking.

It was a heat of the moment type thing. Completely unexpected and he's shocked to say the least. It takes Toji a couple minutes himself to think of what to say, but ultimately, he thinks this is the best way to break the ice...

"You just squirted... all over me."

You don't even look up at him when he says that. You just might cry from the continuously skyrocketing level of embarrassment you're feeling.

"Do you have anything to say about it?" He asks, to which you just shake your head. He lets a couple seconds go by, just to add an unnecessary dramatic effect to the situation, before picking up the conversation again. "Well, good thing I have some things to say about it, pretty." He grins and wraps you up in his arms, allowing you to return to your safe space. "You know how much I love you, right?" He says, turning his head to look down at your face. You hum in response and nod against his shoulder. "And that I only pushed you so that you wouldn't hide your voice from me anymore?" You nod again. "Well, I was right." He smirks, thinking of how he got exactly what he wanted. "I'll leave it at that so you don't overheat on me."

He sighs, contentedly, at the feeling of you being so relaxed in his arms now, compared to before. "You did so well for me, mama," he says, before pressing multiple kisses to your head.

There's a beat of silence. Toji can't stop thinking of that spontaneous moment. It's stuck on loop in his head. It's not convenient in this moment, since you're cockwarming him, but before you know it, he's half hard inside you again.

"You think I can make you do it on purpose, this time?"

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Creations Dance

Danny likes to dance in the night sky while flying in his new ghostly form which is very ethereal holding glimpses of different parts of space and creations unknown, this continues even after he moves to Gotham.

The sky around him becomes his stage,

A stage that matches him and follows his lead.

Gotham has never had such clear skies, able to see each and every star shining brightly.

Twinkling in many colours almost seeming to dance alongside Danny,

Sharing his joy in their existence.

~

Duke had seen the new phenomenon that was Gotham's skies, who hadn't it was all he would hear people talking around him anytime he left the house, speaking of which were also discussing the same.

Bruce, Tim, and Barbara all researching to see what had caused the change, their bet so far was on magic but not sure who or what was causing it or the reason why.

He had seen the others also poking around seeing if they could find a lead.

But the most curious of all being Jason's new demeanor, ever since the night skies had changed he seemed to calm down almost seeming peaceful.

Which don't get him wrong was a great thing to happen but the timing of it all was too weird, honestly even Bruce was tense about the sudden turn around in demeanor.

So with everyone else occupied he decided he might as well go and enjoy the night sky, it was a very amazing view to miss out on.

He had discovered a new spot a bit far from home but it was quiet and private and would make the perfect spot to stargaze comfortably without being interrupted.

~

He had fallen asleep accidentally but something had woken him up.

He noticed that it was cold, cold enough that he could just barely see his breath in the air in front of him which should not be possible since it was almost summer, had Mr.Freeze escaped?

Looking around now alert he caught a flash of something up above his head.

Looking up he saw..light and darkness and so many things that his mind couldn't comprehend rather less describe.

His eyes shifted trying to make out what he was seeing, in the center was a being..dancing?

The being seemed to feel his eyes on them because in the next moment they turned to stare at him.

He could feel the weight of their eyes on him their entire presence focused around him radiating power and joy.

Continuing to stare at each other the only thing Duke could think of was,

"You're gorgeous.."

Duke snapped back realizing he had said that out loud his face warming, but the being in front of him seemed delighted.

"Thank you! I'm surprised you're able to see me."

"It's hard not to, you were dancing so happily I could feel it in my chest."

They-he? floated closer

"If you liked my dancing so much you could continue to visit me here to see."

" If you're okay with it then I would really like that, my name is Duke."

"It's a date then Duke! You can call me Danny."

~

God what was he going to tell the others? He found the cause for the change in Gotham but Danny seemed to be good, not a villain.

Well he'll keep it a secret for a while more right now he had to prepare for his date!

~

Duke sees Danny dancing around in the sky: "We'll have a winter wedding."

~

Duke seeing the Bats stressing and losing sleep trying to figure what's going on: "Should I say something? Hm nah."

~

Danny Dancing around in the sky while Duke is in the background being a supporting bf cheering him on with pom poms: "That's my boyfriend woo~!"

~

The bats for some reason arguing about each other's past relationships and crushes

Steph pointing at Dick: You're the one with the strangest taste seriously out of everyone in this family Duke and I are the only ones with normal taste! Right Duke!"

Duke " My Boyfriend is a Being/Ancient Ghost of Space That Most of the Time Doesn't Look Human/Humanoid" Thomas: * face sweating while he tries to sneak out of the room* "Umm..*voice crack* y-yeah."

~

I really enjoyed writing this one, I don't see a lot of Duke/Danny, but the works I've read are all so wonderful ♡

~

Just an Idea

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 17

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17 18

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, violence, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: my mum and i got into an argument after my cat died and now i remember why i wrote this | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

You walk across the dragon pit, making your way back to Laenor, who was petting his mount. "Hello."

He turns and smiles, "hello. He watches how you pick the petals of the flowers he gave, "where's-"

Before he can finish, the sound of a dragon screeching and soaring of echoes across the pit. His own dragon huffs and bleats, making you turn to it.

"What's the name of your mount?"

Leanor looks at you as you near the beast, "Seasmoke— eh," he dashes in front of you, "careful," he takes your arm, "he's not hostile, I don't think, but then again, he's my ride and I'm biased. Regardless, Seasmoke is, in fact, a dragon."

"Ah," you step back, "forgive me, I-"

"Found yourself very comfortable around Caraxes?" Leanor smiles at me, rubbing your arm, "I'm surprised. The wyrm is rather cranky..." he leads me to his dragon, "not unlike his rider, no?"

Your eyes remain on him as Seasmoke screeches. The dragon sounds nothing like Caraxes, neither does he look or even smell the same, which you think is rather interesting.

"You may touch him if you like," Laenor smiles, stroking his dragon's scales. Seasmoke purrs, almost like a cat.

You rub your hands before touching the beast, "rytsas." Hello.

Laenor's brows quirk.

"Skorkydoso gaomagon gaomā?" How do you do?

He chuckles, "when did you learn High Valyrian?"

"While you and Daemon were in the St-" you squeal when Seasmoke shoves you with a roar, earning an equal reaction from his rider. Laenor snaps and swats his ride, commanding him to obey, to be gentle.

Your heart races and continues to against yourself. You clutch your chest, feeling a telltale uncomfortable tightening. Gods, please, not in front of Laenor.

You vaguely hear him chide the dragon for being cheeky in High Valyrian, and you suppose he says something to you, but your lungs are too constricted for you to hear. For a moment, as you feel your legs begin to buckle under the weight of your breath, or rather, lack thereof, you realize you were treating Seasmoke awfully familiarly. He gave you a simple correction, and now your weak heart was going to make him look like a villain.

"Apologies for— prin-" Laenor grunts as he catches you just as you topple. You crumble into his chest and drop your flowes. You both end up on the floor as you try to catch your breath.

Laenor looks around. He orders the dragon keepers to bring his ride to the pit and he pulls you into his arms, "can you stand?"

Stand? You can barely breathe.

Your silence, paired with the tangible tremors of your body, is enough answer for him. He maneuvers around you, arms wrapping over your form. His stomach drops at the greyness of your skin, but he tells himself he's merely imagined it. He quickly carries you out of the pit.

Alternatively, Daemon is idle in the sky. The sun beats down on his skin as the wind scratches through his hair. There is no thrill in it however, no reprieve. What's more, Caraxes seems to stagger halfway through the flight. The usual agility of his lithe body dwindles the longer they fly, and his rider is rightfully concerned. He turns back before they go very far.

When they arrive at the pit, Seasmoke is no longer there. Daemon is alarmed by the way Caraxes lands. It's not at all like his usual demeanor. He drips into saddle and yelps when Caraxes flops and crashesbelly down on the ground. The dragon keepers are as equally concerned as Daemon upon witnessing this.

Daemon dismounts and gazes upon his mount. One of the senior keepers asks him, "skoros iksis pirta lēda Caraxes, ñuha dārilaros??" What is wrong with Caraxes, my prince?

"Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon," Daemon mutters, "ziry massitas hen daoriot." I don't know. It happened out of nowhere.

The prince watches as one keeper brushes Caraxes by the snout. The dragon huffs and closes his eyes, rolling on his belly. Daemon's brows furrow tightly and his lips part. This was severely unlike his vicious mount— falling prostrate? He was deeply concerned.

Daemon explains to the keeper that his dragon was well earlier today, in the funeral, and when they just got back from it. It was only after they had flown again did Caraxes begin to act rather dreary.

The keepers try to feed Caraxes but he does not eat. They try to bring him into the pit, but he does not stand. It troubles Daemon. He does not wish to leav, but as much as his heart aches for his companion, it bleeds for you.

"Laenor."

Laenor freezes upon hearing your voice. He had already managed to carry you halfway towards the maester's ward when you regained your voice. He looks at you, brows furrowing at the sight of the tears you'd silently shed. He speaks your name.

"Will you set me down?"

Laenor nods and slowly brings you to your feet. You wobble against the young prince and lean your weight into him as you find your footing. You shudder, struggling to keep yourself upright. A shameful heat wraps around your body. I hate to have you see me like this.

"Hush," Laenor mutters, guiding you to the window sill.

You look up at him, brows furrowing.

"Are we not friends?" he tilts his head, "do friends not help friends?"

Gods... you had said that aloud. You were losing yourself. You shake your head, "yes, but-"

"But what?" Laenor purses his lips, "but if I could not find the strength to stand, surely you would do all you could to help me."

You frown.

He follows suit as you sit by the window. He squeezes your arm, "it's just me, the same Laenor you wrote heartfelt letters to."

Your brows furrow. You gulp as your throat tightens, "I never wrote to you about my affliction."

He shrugs, taking your hand in his, "it is your prerogative what you do and do not wish to tell me."

"I am dying."

He does not respond.

"I'm already dead inside."

He hums, "how macabre," he looks off, "I was rather hoping you'd bring up something more mundane, like how the drapes in these halls are rather plain, considering the fact we are in the capital castle."

You stare at him for a moment.

He looks back at you, "it's safe to say the king cares little for drapes."

You snort and shake your head.

A faint smile spreads across Laenor's lips. He squeezes your hand, "I suppose that is good. A king has much more to worry about than the drapes that drape across his halls."

You release a deep breath. The heaviness of your shoulders become apparent to you. You tentatively lean into Laenor's shoulder; he shifts towards you, offering his arm.

"You hark aimlessly so like my twin."

He steals a glance of you, lips curling into a soft smile, "you speak this as if you believe it would offend me."

"It should."

He chuckles and examines the texture of the wall in front of him, "to be likened to Ser Gwayne is an honor."

You snort and roll your eyes, "it should not be. He is ugly."

"He has your face."

"He does not!" you pull away to look at him, "pray tell, do you think I am comely?"

Laenor looks at you. He purses his lips where yours curl mischeviously.

You raise your brows and snort, "my point exactly."

"Your beauty is simply not to my taste."

"But my brother's is?!" you exclaim, "he has my face!"

Laenor rolls his eyes, "he does not."

You swat his arm.

He raises a brow at you, pretending to be offended, though it barely lasts. He instantly melts at the sight of your smile. He smiles back, "I am glad to know banter livens your spirit."

Your expression softens, "I am glad to know you will be living here."

"Yes. Perhaps initially. You might soon find me irritating like mine own sister does."

You share a chuckle. You shake your head and come to a stand; the prince immediately does the same. You link arms with him and begin walking, "might I show you the gardens, my prince?"

He thinks for a moment, "should you not go to the maester's?"

"They have nothing for me but scolding and milk of the poppy," you tighten your hold on his arm, "the roses are in full bloom."

He nods, "very well."

You saunter to the gardens with no sense of urgency whatsoever. Laenor is good at concealing his worry over you, but unfortunately, you are better at sensing other's agitation over your affliction. You fill the walk with hushed chatter, "you cannot like my brother more than I. I wish to hold your affection."

Laenor turns to you, brow raised, muttering, "you hold my affection."

"Yes, but you've not met him, yet still you prefer him," you whisper.

He looks away, shrugging, "I think he is pretty but I do not prefer him. If I recall correctly, he drank much during someone's nameday and became rather less pretty to me."

You chortle.

Laenor chuckles, turning back to you.

You look at him, thinkinv his eyes are very kind. Your smile turns into a frown as you squeeze his arm, "where were you when they were forcing me into marriage?"

His jaw feathers. He rubs your hand, "you do not want me as a husband. I would not satisfy you."

"I would not ask you to."

He shakes his head, "I do not think I would be able to give you heirs."

You tighten your hold on him, "I do not think I would either."

He frowns, "I-"

"Daughter."

The two of turn back, finding the Hand of the King rushing towards you. Normally, such a sight would cause you concern, but presently, it made you feel only exhaustion... and dread. You pull away from Laenor, preparing to face your father.

You huff when Otto reaches you. The first thing he does is place a hand on your cheek, "are you well?"

You frown and nod, "yes."

"The servants say your husband left you in the pit and your affliction flared. Prince Laenor," he offers him a glance, "had to carry you off."

"I am fine," you mutter, shaking your head, pushing him away.

He lowers his hand, "have you gone to the ma-"

"I'm bringing my friend to the gardens, father."

Otto stiffens. Laenor notices the way Otto's hands clench; he clears his throat, "she has told me pl-"

"Forgive me, my prince, but it would be best if my daughter goes to-"

"The gardens," you blurt, "to show my friend my flowers."

Your father mutters your name.

Laenor knows the argument is quickly going to inflame. He steps forward, "the princess assured me she is well enough—"

"She is not well," Otto blurts, "she just burned her children and fainted in the pit-"

"Why do you despise me?"

Laenor stiffens where he meant to take your arm. Otto altogether loses his words.

You huff at his terse expression. You clench your teeth and turn to Laenor, "perhaps I ought to show you my garden another time."

The prince furrows his brows. He mutters your name slowly.

You shake your head and manage a smile, "perhaps after supper?"

Though he was rather reluctant to leave you in the thick of it, Laenor nods. He squeezes your arm one last time and gives your father a curt nod, "Lord Hand," before walking off.

"Have you gone mad?"

You turn to Otto. He is seething with rage.

"You would speak so carelessly in front of-"

"My frien-"

"He is not your friend," he blurts, stepping forward, "today? Tomorrow? He is promised to Rhaenyra and-"

"He is my friend!" you interrupt. "And my question does not involve him but you, my lord." You shake your head, "why do you despise me?"

He scoffs. He feels his collar tighten around his neck, "you think I despise you?"

"No," you mutter, "I know you do."

He scoffs once more and wipes his face with a sigh, "you stupid, fucking girl."

You feel like you're drowning as tears stream down your face. Your father paces and you gasp when he suddenly walks off. You watch him take large strides, only to stop at the end of the hall to turn back to you. Your heart races when he storms back with a finger pointed at you.

You gulp and step back, but you do not trust your feet to take you very far, so you end up freezing in your spot.

"You are ludicrous!" he pokes the air, "and you are wrong!" he pokes again, face red as he comes back in front of you.

You shudder when he grabs your shoulders and shakes you slightly.

"Despise you?!" he snaps, spittle spattering to your face. He releases you roughly, his chest rising and falling, "you unwitting pup! You've no idea the measures I've gone to ens-"

"DOES IT MATTER?"

Otto clenches his teeth so hard his head shakes.

Your outburst costs you all the air in your lungs. You care little to chase after it, "you fed me to your enemy! Left me to die!"

"I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT PRESERVE YOU!" he screams, loud enough that his voice echoes in the hall.

Your ears ring and your struggle to breathe.

"Out of all my children," Otto's voice comes out shaky, "I have not lost sleep and coin as much as I have for you."

You manage to reply through the thrumming of your chest, "then you have your answer."

Otto's face hardens as he screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. He wipes both hands across his face in exasperation, "I do not despise you."

"Look at what's become of me," you bring your fists into your chest. You chuckle dryly, "perhaps if you despised me more, I would be better."

"All I've ever done is to better you!"

"Like how you forced me to bear children?!" You quip, "my body could not keep them!"

"If you did not do this, you would have been casted out or killed!" he raises a finger, "you did your duty."

"I did what you wanted-" you groan, "AND IT IS NEVER ENO-"

"ENOUGH!" he snaps and you flinch. Otto grabs your arm, "you are hysterical."

Hysterical. You wince at his tight grip. How you loathe the word. Though you knew it was pointless, you still attempt to wrangle out of his strong clutch.

Even in his vehement vexation, he does not force you to stop. He loosens his grip, speaking your name.

"Release me," you mutter, heart racing.

"No," he mutters, "you need a maester."

You whimper and yank at your arm, "father."

His stomach rolls. For a moment, he hears the voice of his young child begging for his presence. His grips tightens, "let me bring you to-"

"I hate you!"

Otto clenches his jaw. He mutters your name.

"You will not let me be happy. You will not let me die."

He shouts your name.

"Release me!" you whimper, begging to feel light headed.

Finally, he does.

You gasp when you topple into a wall. You are shocked when arms come around you. You turn, breath staggering, eyes meeting the hard face of your husband.

"If you ever touch her," Daemon mutters, hands clutching your waist and arm. He pulls you into him, "if I even hear that you touched her- nyke hobrenka kivigon jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī-" I fucking swear by the old gods and the new—

You can feel him trembling against you. You will yourself to breathe in deep to try and calm yourself. Your hand comes to his cheek.

Otto draws breath, "my daughter is-"

"Do NOT fucking call her that," Daemon snaps as he pushes you upright only to bring you behind him. His hand clutches the hilt of Dark Sister, "it matters not who sired her— she is my wife."

"She needs medicine," Otto blurts raising a hand, "she is in hyster-"

"Of fucking course she's in hysterics!" Daemon growls and steps forward, "you're her fucking father—"

The Hand scoffs.

"— It's a miracle she's withstood the poison you've been sledging into her throat since gods know when. You're the reason she's fucking sick-"

"DO NOT," Otto barks, "speak to me of her—"

"Daemon!" you grab his arm as Daemon presses closer to him.

"Ivestragī nyke ossēnagon zirȳla!" Daemon barks, eyes fixed on Otto. Let me kill him!

He repeats this twice, leaving you in a fit of tears. The sound of your staggered cries is the only reason he stays his hand.

Otto watches as you crumple into Daemon's arms. He feels helpless to see the monster clutch your cheeks and hold you close. He can see you struggle for air, and it makes his own breath hitch. He feels an overwhelming sense of horror overcome him.

Daemon's brows furrow as you shake your head. He wipes your tears before carrying you and walking away.

Otto stands there, balked, torn, angered, hurt, resentful, tormented. He watches the devil usher you deeper into his hell.

"Maester?" Daemon mutters as he hurries down the hall.

You shake your head.

He makes a sound, "are you certain?"

His throat tightens as you grip his collar, tugging it ever so slightly. You shake your head, "bed."

He nods, heading to your chambers.

When you arrive, Daemon is quick to sit you upon your bed, leaning you on the headboard. He removes your shoes and undoes the braids in your hair. He is gentle, far gentler than anyone who has ever touched your hair.

His face is grave when your tears do not cease. He notices that your breathing is still heavy and ragged. Images of the day you nearly died flash in his mind's eye. He stops undoing your hair and takes your hand, kneeling beside you on the bed. His eyes begin to water, "you must breathe."

You groan and turn away from him, pulling your hand with you. You strangle out, "it is difficult."

Daemon whimpers, kicking his shoes off. He climbs on the bed and sits beside you. He rubs your chest and leans on your shoulder. He cannot help himself; he kisses your neck, "please-"

"Daemon."

"I- I-"

You grab his wrist and shake your head again.

He clenches his jaw as you lower his arm to your lap.

"I can do it."

He gulps and nods slowly.

You inhale deeply and exhale slowly.

Daemon squeezes your hand. He is restless.

"When I die—"

"Stop-"

"— you cannot kill him."

He makes a terrible sound. He shakes his head, "do not speak to me of this."

"I must," you squeeze him, "he deserves to suffer me, to flinch each time my name is spoken."

"Do not die to spite your father," Daemon grunts, "spite him with your life."

You close your eyes and sigh, "and what if I do not want to live?"

You gasp when you hear him whine. Daemon crumbles into your lap. He squeezes your hands tightly, "speak no further... I beg you."

You look down at him. Your heart aches. You sigh and brush his hair, "I would not kill myself. You know this."

He turns his head, one eye peeping up at you, "am I supposed to be comforted?"

"Yes," you blurt, "be sure that when I pass, it is my time."

Daemon sits up, "and what if he kills you?"

You sigh. You take a moment to calm yourself before reaching for his face. He instantly presses his hand over yours and leans into your touch. You rub his wet cheeks, "my father would not kill me."

"Yet he does."

You feel Daemon clench his jaw.

"Slowly... subtly."

You lean your head back. You whimper at the feel of the braids that were still not undone. You pull away from Daemon to undo them yourself. He's about to help you, but then you mutter, "get me shears."

"... why?"

"I do not wish to fashion my hair ever again."

He looks at you for a moment before standing. He heads to your vanity and quickly finds what he is looking for. He reluctantly hands it to you and you gratefully take it.

He watches you undo your hair wholly and bring it to one side. You bunch your dark strands together and haphazardly try to cut it. You cannot, your hair is too thick and the blades too dull; it barely cut parchment. Still, here you were trying to cut your hair. Daemon is silent as you do.

You grow frustrated and look at him, finding his eyes are fixed upon your tresses. Your eyes water, "am I hysterical?"

Violet eyes meet your glassy ones. He strokes your head, "you are my wife."

You grip the sheers tightly before lowering it.

Daemon frowns, "did you not enjoy my braids?

"I-" you stare at the shears, "that is not why."

"... would you like me to help you?"

"No," you look up at him, handing him the metal object, "I am hysterical."

"Do not listen to that cunt," he takes the shears from you, putting it back in its place. You watch him crawl beside you again. He takes your hand and frowns, "you are far tamer than you ought to be."

You raise your brows at his words. You reciprocate his hold and rub your thumb against his skin, "you would feed my madness."

He gazes at your sad face and shrugs, "we could be mad together."

You chuckle.

His heart skips. He squeezes your hand.

"You mean to tell me you aren't yet mad?"

Daemon dares to lean into you.

You do not pull away when he rests his head upon your shoulder.

He whispers, "no."

You feel him bring your hand to his chest. You feel him kiss your hand.

"You are my sanity."

You feel him kiss your neck. You shudder.

Daemon is entranced by your scent. He soon has his hands brushing around your torso, pulling you close to him. He breathes you in like air, because you were his. He buries his face into your hair. Gods, he's missed this. Gods, he's missed you.

You close your eyes and sigh, palms brushing up his shoulders. He takes this as permission to kiss you more, so he does. He peppers his lips across your skin, down your throat, across your neck. He clutches you into his chest, willing you into his ribcage. You gulp and melt into him with a sigh.

The sound encourages him. He pulls you down to bed as if you were weightless. Your skirt hikes up in consequence, and he hisses when he repositions you and feels the bareness of your thigh.

Daemon breaks the kiss, panting like a dog as he examines your from. He gulps, mind reeling at the skin your dress no longer concealed. He remembers what you told him in the garden, how you no longer loved him. He slowly withdraws his hand, feeling it trembld.

You watch as he battles with himself. You dig your fingers into his collar, urging him to look at you.

He does, pupils blown. Your name slips past his parted mouth.

You rub his shoulder, "do you want me?"

"Fuck," he laughs manically, "d-do I want you?"

Goosebumps prick on your skin as he rubs up your thigh. You feel your breathing heavy as his nails dig into the flesh of your hip.

He draws a deep breath and whispers, not trusting his voice, "I want you."

You huff and close your eyes. Your tug his top and part your legs.

"Fuuuuuuck," Daemon whines through a sigh, sinking his head into your neck as he slots himself between you. He curses again when he hears you whimpe. He wraps your thighs around him.

He bucks into you. His teeth nip your jaw. Your nails scratch up his nape and tug his short hair. Your eyes water.

Daemon could peak from this alone.

You mutter his name.

He moans and squeezes your thigh in response.

You whimper as you feel his erection against your core. Your lips wobble. You press your face against his and whisper, "I'll let you put a babe in me again."

Daemon turns to stone.

You begin to breath heavily again.

His voice is muffled, "what?"

"I said I'll let you put a babe in me again."

He lifts his head. His eyes are reddish and his brows are furrowed. Little did you know you mirrored him, if not worse. You were crying, and you couldn't even feel it.

"And then w-hat?" his voice cracks.

You clutch his cheeks.

"And then you die?"

You brush his chin. You cannot reply.

He chokes on your name and screws his eyes shut. He buries his face into your neck and shakes his head. He sinks into you, but he's no longer hard, just sad and desperate.

"... if gods be willing... I'd have a reason to live."

"I am unwilling to gamble."

You lean into his head, "it's always a gamble, affliction or not."

Daemon lifts his head and looks down upon you. He rubs your cheeks frantically as he says your name. He mutters, "I do not even have you yet. Do not be so eager to leave me."

You close your eyes, relishing the feel of his thumbs on your face.

He kisses your forehead, "give me a chance. Please."

You sigh, "I'm exhausted."

His hand trembles, "please."

Your brows furrow.

He examines your face restlessly, brushing your skin in hopes it will coax the answer he wants.

"I'll try."

He breathes a sharp sigh of relief. He kisses the corner of your mouth, "thank you."

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[hyunjilicious]

most to least kinky [skz ver.]

A/n: this has probably been done a million times before but I thought I could make my own list, right?

Warnings: this isn't full on smut, but A LOT of things are mentioned (from slapping to ass eating to crying to cnc) I can't possibly mention them all. Needless to say, this is strictly 18+, please proceed with caution!!!!

Disclaimer: I'm sorry. I'm incredibly sorry, ok? I don't understand Seungmin 😭😭 I absolutely love him with all my heart, but he's a mystery to me. I've also only been in this fandom for a few months so maybe with time I'll be able to write for him but until then, I'll just keep apologising to my Minnie biased readers for doing their baby dirty. I'm sorry, I promise I'm trying!! 🥺

Please let me know what you thought and if you have other ideas!! I'd love to hear different opinions!!!

1. Lee Know 

Do I even have to explain? At this point, you could basically write an entire encyclopedia only using the stuff this man is into - he knows it all and wants to try it all. The thing is, whether he trusts you enough or not, because if he's too shy to bring up the one thing that's on his mind, he'll bombard you with hints, hoping he'd "manipulate" you into mentioning it first. Not that he'd ever do anything you're not 100% comfortable with, but he'd much rather you be the one who asks. He'd slap your ass, bite it, mark it, grope it, eat your pussy from behind and send you porn links - all while hoping you'd finally get the idea and ask him to eat your ass. Because he's shy like that. But once you do catch on and tell him about it, he's all in. 

And then, as he grows more comfortable around you, all these little games you two play will slowly start to shift. His main priority will always be you, but with time, his teasing nature will replace the old Minho you used to have sex with, and literally everything this man does will be about driving you insane. 

He'd make you beg, whine, crawl on your knees, hump pillows - hump his leg, just so you can prove yourself, only to deny you again, always with a grin on his face. A loving smile as he looks at you, right before he throws a very swift "No" in your face and makes you start over. You have to be spent, exhausted, dumb and drunk on him before he finally gives you what you want. But when he finally does, it's everything you ever wanted and more because he doesn't.hold.back.

2. Jeongin

To be fair, it might be because he had to go through the "Watch your mouth, there's a child in our grup!" phase, which - cute and all, got old very fast. Maybe this side of him would have never surfaced like this, but you can't possibly know, there's only one Jeongin and he's a meanie. He's stern, he's serious and there's only one way, his. 

He takes the safe word very seriously because otherwise, he doesn't take no for an answer. There's no "too much", "too hard", "too fast". He doesn't care. He knows you can take it and you have to. 

You don't move, he moves you. If you don't shut up when he tells you to, it's 'ass up, face down into the pillow' - no questions, no warnings. 

It all starts nicely, though. His good little girl, his angel, who needs to do absolutely everything she's told otherwise his punishments will be downright cruel and you'll be nothing more than a "dumb, fucking whore" until he's done with you. 

One thing that makes him draw the line though, is crying. He loves to see little tears at the corner of your eyes as he fucks you into oblivion, just so he can mock you for it, "Oh, is my sweet, little baby crying?" and then go faster. But if you let out anything more than a cute, little sob, or if you start actually crying, even though you're still down to keep going, he won't. He can't. He's cruel, but not that cruel, it hurts his heart to see you like that and absolutely never lets things get that far.

3. Felix

This man is into… everything. His eyes light up every single time there's something new for you two to try, and he puts his whole soul into it. 

On one hand, he's into the basics - he goes crazy for your tits, will lick, bite, suck and eat anything off of them (absolutely adores eating cream off your body, but yeah, your tits are his favorite spot). He loves lingerie, loves ripping it off of you, loves seeing you dress up, pretend to be a nurse, a teacher or the girl next-door who just so happened to leave the window open. 

Doesn't have a daddy kink but he's just so obsessed with doing absolutely anything for you, he'd go with it. Most likely prefers 'Sir' but it isn't a must. Will melt and cry if you allow him to fall you 'Mommy'

The definition of a switch. When he's a dom, 90% of the time he's soft, full of praises and encouragements, loves making you feel all safe and loved as you degrade yourself for him. He'll whisper in your ear the absolute sweetest, most loving words you ever heard in your entire life, all while completely breaking you in half with his cock. But also, there are times when there's just one way for him to relax and let loose, and during those days, he's lazy and he's condescending, judgy and a little bit mean, and these are the absolute worst moments for you to be brat. 

But all of these are only half of him, because this man is probably the most dedicated and enthusiastic sub in the world. He'll do absolutely everything he's told and then beg for more. Way too eager to humiliate himself for you. Also very, very vocal, he'll cry, whine and beg and will also never fail to let you know just how obsessed he is with worshiping the ground you walk on. 

4. Chan

Also a switch, but it takes months, if not more, for you guys to get there. He's a leader by nature, used to having a lot of responsibilities and a lot of control over the things around him. He likes to be in charge, knows how to do it, and loves the responses he gets. Probably one of the best doms out there because even though you have a safe word, he's so fucking careful with you at all times that he knows to slow down before you even have to think about using it. It only happened once, and your voice still rings in his head - he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. 

But since he's so observant and trusts you to put a stop to whatever is going on in case you need to, he feels free to go crazy. Unlike Jeongin, he likes to hear you cry, likes knowing he has that power over you and the fact you know how easy it is for him to absolutely wreck and ruin you, but still allow him to go crazy, drives him wild. Trust is probably what gets him off the most, he absolutely adores how you give up control and leave yourself at his mercy. 

But then again, as your relationship strengthens and he slowly realizes that maybe he doesn't always have to be the one to do it all, that others can take care of him too, that he can actually let loose and renounce all control, you start to see another side of him. 

He's an exemplary sub, not one brat bone in his body. He tries sometimes to test you, but he goes back to being doe eyed and whiny for you in no time. He's not as vocal and not as eager to let all his enthusiasm show, but just like Felix, he'll do absolutely anything you tell him, and then thank you for allowing him to do it. 

5. Han

Another switch. He can be a dom and he can be a sub, but I think there are two other sides of him. This man will go back and forth between being the absolute, most cocky motherf on the planet, to being absolutely wiped and wrapped around your finger. And while these for aspects of him can pair up in any way, leaving you with a teasing dom, a loving and soft one, or a bratty sub that will try to make you prove to him just how badly you need him to worship you and so on, I think he's not always like this.

You can't really tell whether there's a pattern, but maybe if you spent more time together you'd be able to spot one. Maybe it depends on how his day went, how tired he is, how his social batteries are like at the moment, but I think there are many, many days when this man just needs to feel you, to smell you, hear you. To collapse into the sheets with you, forget about the world and melt in your arms. Yeah, he's down to try a lot of stuff, but what he loves the most are the simple things. Like missionary late at night, with the lights on so he can see every glimmer of anything in your eyes, to wipe the sweat off your temples and to be able to smother you with kisses. Impromptu sex in the morning, lazy sex in the shower, cuddling that turns into you riding him on the couch while watching a movie. That's what I think he's into the most.

6. Changbin

Thank god this man is not the kinkiest because he'd probably break you in half and no amount of aftercare would be able to fix that. This man goes hard. No matter if you're the one that woke him up, all needy and clingy, or if he came home riled and ready to go, he's already ready to give you his all. That dumptruck isn't there for nothing, he doesn't even have to try that hard to make you scream. 

But it's not just physical, he goes all out in all ways. He doesn't just want you on your back, legs spread open so he can eat you out, no, you have to be on his face, full weight down on top of him, and you have to ride. Other than that, you don't really have to do much, because he's a sucker for handling you. He'll hold up your weight when he fucks you against the dresser and he doesn't mind being the one who gets rid of all the clothes in the way when he randomly decides he wants to fuck you bent over the kitchen table. 

So I don't think he needs much more than you two already have. Of course, he's usually fine with trying things you're into, and yeah, he likes them, but that's just more like 'fun' to him. He's not the kind to call you degrading names or spank you until you cry, through he might enjoy a little bit too much seeing his hand print on your ass or the bruises he left on your hips just from hard he was holding onto you while fucking you into oblivion.

Out of all the things you'd get him to try, I think one of his favorites would be wax play. He'll probably ask you to do it again, maybe like 3 months later. Also, one other thing that gets him going and that he still might be shy about it, is just how hard his cock twitched when you called him daddy. Oops. I don't like it, please do it again.

7. Seungmin 

Ok, again, disclaimer with this one. I wanna start by apologizing to Minnie and to all the Minnie biased readers that are here with us today, but I can't read this man. At all. And that's the reason I put him so low on the list because while I do have some ideas, associating him with certain kinks and stuff felt completely empty to me. Like I have no idea what he'd like? But in case you've read this far, lemme tell you what I did manage to come up with and please let me know how you see it!!

I think trust, communication and fun are the most important to him. I feel like he'd have so much fun guiding you and giving you instructions on how to do different things, from how to suck him off just the way he needs it, to how to use a toy on yourself. And I think it goes both ways, he'd love to have you tell exactly how and what to do at all times.

I also think he can be stern and commanding, serious and totally focused, but he also probably adores being a giggling mess, unable to control himself as you give him your all, worship him and make him feel absolutely cherished. I'm sorry, but I feel like this man thrives on love and appreciation. Other than that, my brain is empty, please help me!!

8. Hyunjin

Ok, maaaaybe I shouldn't have put him last. But fuck it. Sue me. I don't think he's kinky at all. I think that again, he'd be the type to try out most of the things you come up with, but I don't think he associates them with sex like that. I think it's just some form of fun you two have, I don't think there are too many crazy things that necessarily get him going. 

He's a romantic, ok? His main goal is pleasure. He's the kind to absolutely not give a shit about anything, all that he needs is you. If he has you and a surface (not even mandatory) he's satisfied. He'll do absolutely anything, worship every single inch of your body. The kind to kiss his way up your leg before eating you out, to kiss you before you even finished swallowing his cum. Nothing to him is gross, to him, bodies are beautiful and made to be worshiped. He'd paint your body, lay back and allow you to do absolutely anything you want to him, he's just full of want and passion. 

I don't think he'd ever be the kind of person to associate pain or humiliation with pleasure. Like he knows they're valid kinks and will not shame anyone about it, but with him, you have to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, loved, cradled and appreciated in absolutely every way. 

Absolutely the type to eat your ass and then be like "What? People don't do that?". Doesn't think spitting in each other's mouths is degrading because, "We literally kiss all the time, what?" 

Will ask you to slap him just to see what it's like but will probably malfunction if you ask him to do it to you. 

I think he'd be down for a lot of stuff, but doesn't see any of them as kinks. Doesn't need any of them. They don't get him hard. It's all just for fun. 

Please let me know what you thought!! I'd love to talk about this!!! ❤️

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[snowwybear]

𝗣𝗢𝗩: 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿

warnings: slight angst, fluff

It's hard, between his work and your work it was hard to keep the relationship alive. Always filming, sometimes even in another part of the world, then there was press tours and red-carpet premiers. Even when you were home it was checking emails, recording audition tapes or rehearsing lines. Then there was Vinnie, either off doing modelling shoots, away for whatever fashion week was currently on and of course Twitch streams. It was hard, exhausting work both of you had to do - but you loved it, there was nothing you'd rather be doing.

"When are you back home?" Vinnie asked over the phone.

"Soon" You yawn as a response. "We have a few more weeks of press then I'm back. When do you leave for London?"

"2 weeks, so we might miss each other again".

The silence on the other end of the phone stretched for a few beats too long, the weight of it settling heavily between you both. This was how it always went—quick check-ins, same questions, same answers, the same longing neither of you could properly voice.

"Maybe we’ll figure something out," you said, trying to inject some hope into your voice, but even you could hear how tired you sounded.

Vinnie let out a soft sigh, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, that familiar crease forming between his brows. "Yeah, maybe."

You pulled the covers tighter around yourself, staring blankly at the hotel room ceiling. You loved your job—loved the chaos, the constant whirlwind of activity—but right now, it felt suffocating. You were on the verge of something great in your career, and so was Vinnie, but at what cost?

"Do you ever feel like…" you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to say it. Vinnie’s always been the optimist between the two of you, the one who kept things light, who filled the gaps with his infectious energy and easy laughter. But even he sounded tired lately, worn down by the distance.

"Like what?" he asked softly.

"Like we’re slipping away from each other."

Another pause, this one heavier, more loaded. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, a part of you scared of what he might say.

"I don’t want that," Vinnie finally responded, his voice firm. "I don’t want to lose you, us. But I don't know how to fix it either."

The admission hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been holding in until that moment, how much you’d been pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

"Me neither," you whispered. "But I don’t want to lose us either."

There was a rustling sound on the other end, and then Vinnie’s voice, softer now, but determined. "Okay, then we won’t."

You smiled faintly despite yourself. "That easy, huh?"

Vinnie chuckled, a low, comforting sound that made your heart ache with how much you missed him. "Maybe not easy, but we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? Look, let’s make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding a little more like himself now. "I don’t care where you are or where I am. Next time we both have a free day, no matter what, we’re seeing each other. I’ll fly to wherever you are, or you can come to me. Doesn’t matter. We’ll make it happen."

You thought about it for a second, picturing the ridiculousness of Vinnie showing up at some far-flung location, just for a day or two. But then again, wasn't that what made you fall for him in the first place? His spontaneity, the way he never let things feel impossible, no matter how busy or chaotic life got.

"Deal," you agreed, feeling a flicker of hope stir inside you. "Next free day, no matter where we are."

"Good," he said, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. "And maybe next time we’ll actually plan a proper vacation or something. Somewhere with no Wi-Fi, no work, just you, me, and whatever beach we end up on."

You laughed softly at the thought. "That sounds perfect."

For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion weighing on you felt a little lighter. Maybe the timing was never right, and maybe things were messy and unpredictable, but you’d figure it out. After all, if there was one thing you and Vinnie were good at, it was finding your way back to each other—no matter how far apart you were.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hello, Author-san! I hope you're doing well. I'm not sure if my last request was sent, but that's okay! I have another idea, though 👀 It's a poly!Marauders scenario where the Slytherin!Reader isn't accustomed to physical contact or doesn't show emotions much, leading the boys to believe they're overwhelming them since the boys enjoy being affectionate. So they begin to avoid the reader (sadge), and now the reader will be the one to initiate affection. I'd like it to be a bit angsty with a fluffy ending, please. Thank you!!!

💀🌻

Hi baby! Thank you so much! I'm not sure if this is as angsty as you were wanting but I hope it's okay!

cw: slight angst

893 words

Goosebumps rose over your skin, triggered by the gentle hand on your thigh. You looked to your side at James, who was still stuck in discussion with the other two boys. You were stony-faced as you listened to the conversation, keeping all of your body to yourself, as per usual. Sirius glanced at you, face lighting with affection. He extended a hand across the table, wiggling his fingers invitingly. 

“Wanna hold my hand, babydoll?” Smile peeking into his tone. You just shook your head, looking down into your lap. Sirius tried to keep the disappointment form his face, but the two boys noticed it. James pulled his hand from your thigh. You noticed that he didn’t squeeze your thigh before letting go like he normally did and your heart clenched, but you didn’t say anything, just going back to your schoolwork. You were checked into the conversation, even though you didn’t participate.

“Have you finished your potions essay yet, Pads?” Remus questioned gently. 

“No, I haven't even started.” He sighed, slumping back into his chair. You glanced up at Remus, looking at him longingly, wishing you could easily express how you feel about him.

 Over the time the four of you had been dating, the boys’ affection towards you had dwindled, and you only had yourself to blame. Whenever they tried to express their affection or casually loved on you, you visibly tensed. Not necessarily out of discomfort, but rather because you liked it too much for your own comfort. Nevertheless, their affections were now few and far between. It only made it worse that all the boys were so comfortable in their love. You sighed and dropped your pen, playing with your green tie in an attempt to subdue your hankering for contact. It didn’t work. This apparently caught Remus’ attention.

“You doing okay, Y/N? Stuck on something?” The use of your name caused you physical pain. At the beginning of the relationship you didn’t hear your given name at all, the boys opting to use a variety of sickly-sweet pet names. Another thing that you had to grieve. You looked up at Remus and Sirius, eyes round and glossy and heartbreaking. 

“No, I’m okay.” You muttered. Sirius searched your face, clearly itching to reach out and touch you but resisting. You wrapped your arms around your torso, hugging yourself. 

“Are you sure?” James asked from beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder before quickly retreating. “Sorry…” He said, shamefully. 

“No, it’s okay Jamie” You looked up at him, pouting in a way that broke his heart. “I- I’m sorry.” You looked back down at your lap, bouncing your knee rapidly. 

“Sorry for what?” Remus quired, much more gently than you deserved. 

“I’ve… I’ve been really weird. About like, touch and stuff. And I can’t talk as well as you three do.” You cut yourself off before you spilled more of your misery. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N.” Sirius ducked his head, trying to see your face. 

“Not everyone is okay with that kind of stuff, it’s okay.” Remus said, clearly thinking they were being reassuring. 

“No but…” You pressed your lips together, trying to get the words out. “I- I don’t not want it.” Your face flamed. You hated this. You hated admitting you wanted anything. It felt weird and wrong. They all looked confused. “I do want it.” Your voice was barely above a breath. “I do, I just… don't like wanting it.” You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, avoiding their gaze again. 

James cooed at you, going all soft inside. “Baby,” He pulled you into his side. “Is this okay?” You nodded rapidly, making Sirius’ heart swell at your clear wanting. He could understand that, not growing up with any expressions of love. Craving something so foreign. 

“It’s okay to want love, you know?” Remus asked, reaching a long arm across the table to grab your hand. You nodded again. 

“I really am sorry I’ve been so weird. It’s only because I want it, I just… don’t know how to handle it.” You chuckled sadly. James could cry from seeing you look so self-deprecating. 

“Well,” James leaned the side of his head into the top of yours, making you shiver. “Maybe we can help you? Seems like you’re just not used to it.” 

Sirius chuckled. “We can get you used to it, babydoll.” You looked up at him, smiling. 

“You can?” You mumbled. 

“I think we can, very easily actually. What do you think, lads?” He looked at the other two boys, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Remus’ was similarly cheeky. “I think that can be arranged.” Something in his tone made the hairs on your neck stand up. He was being unusually coy. You shrunk at his hungry expression. 

“Careful, Moons.” James giggled. “I think they’re about to turn to ash.” He pet the side of your head. 

“I’m okay with that.” Remus smirked, leaning over the table to grab your face. You squeaked as he pressed a hungry kiss to your lips, pulling a desperate sound from your throat that made the other two boys chuckle. He pulled away, kissing your cheek again. Your whole face was on fire, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“I think you’re getting better already.” James kissed the top of your head.

[viixenvi]

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 18+

Summary: You friend drags you to a celebrity house party since she's a famous influencer. You get very bad anxiety and hide in the master bedroom, unbeknownst to you, Mitch comes up to get away from his party and finds you in his room. And God, does he like the way you look on his bed.

Characters: Famous!Mitch Rapp x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral (fem receiving), makeouts, pet names (baby, love), Mitch is drunk, Reader is tipsy, Reader receives mostly, p in v penetration (no sex), cockwarming

A/N: Not proofread or edited! also I tried something different with cockwarming, idk if yall will like it but oh well. I'm trying a lot of new things with coming up fics! (possible pt 2 where we get rough Dom!Mitch?)

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

As much as you loved your best friend, she never seemed to understand that you hated parties. Nevertheless, you always went with her when she invited you. Mostly just to look out for her.

Here you were, at a celebrity's house party in LA. Its funny, you don't recognize a single person you've seen so far. Leah, your best friend, took shots with you and you ended up losing her in the crowd.

As the party grew larger, you got more anxious. You'd much rather be home, in the comfort of your own home. You were now tipsy and made yourself upstairs carefully.

It was less crowded upstairs but still not quiet enough for you. You slowly made your way down the hall and to the only room that seemed to be closed.

You walk right in, shutting the door behind you and sitting down on the bed. Your clothes felt uncomfortable now, so you pulled off your shirt. You are left in a bralette and skirt.

"God, why do I say yes to her," you groan to yourself, laying back onto the bed. You stare at the ceiling, there is nothing there but it seems more interesting then the party outside of the room.

The music is so loud that you don't even hear the door open or close. Mitch is staring at you for a few seconds, soaking in your looks, before he says anything.

You are startled by the clearing of his throat and you jump up. He chuckles and sits on his bed, opposite of you. "What are you doing here?" You question.

"I can't come to my own room?" he jokes, you blush a little in embarrassment and look at the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know this was your house."

"I should ask you why you are here actually," he turns to look at you, smiling. You cant look away from his eyes. He's gorgeous.

"I just got anxiety out there. I'm not the party type, especially celebrity parties," you laugh, picking at your finger. Mitch nods and looks away from you for a moment.

"Yea, I didn't even want to host this party. My manager thought it would be good to announce my newest movie. I'm Mitch by the way."

"I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you. Are you an actor?" you shake his hand. His look seems to linger on your chest and you almost forget you are in a bralette that is mostly see through.

"Yea, I guess I am," Mitch chuckles. You have no idea that he's one of the biggest actors currently and he seems to like that. It's refreshing to him.

You look down and only now realize how you look. You scramble to find your shirt and cover up your chest. "Oh I'm so sorry! It just got so hot in here!"

Mitch shakes his head and slowly pulls away the shirt. "Nothing to be ashamed of, you are beautiful," your shit is disregarded on the floor and Mitch is now close enough that you can smell the alcohol on him.

You can't even stop to think before you push your lips onto his. Suddenly you are on his lap and his hands are running down your body.

"Fuck. I can't believe im doing this," You whisper against his lips. He chuckles and flips you over so your back is on the bed. He kisses your neck, moving his hands to unclip your bralette.

You pull it off and he stops just to stare at you. "You're beautiful, baby." He continues kissing down your body. You almost shiver at the kisses he placed right at your hips.

His fingers hook at the top of your skirt and he taps your hips. "Up." You push your lower body up and he pulls the skirt off easily.

Your hands are on his hair the moment he starts kissing you again. He presses both hands to your thighs and pushes them open, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

He doesn't hesitate before pushing his face against your pussy. His tongue swirls against you and you bite back moans that ultimately make their way out.

He hums at your pleasure, enjoying all the noises you are making. You press his head down more and he doesn't seem to care.

"Fuck!!" you moan out, letting go of his hair and gripping the sheets instead. There's a hot feeling in your stomach and the pressure builds up heavily.

"Go ahead, cum for me baby." Your legs shake, pushing together on his head as you cum.

It feels so good you almost see white for a moment. Mitch continues to lick your clit after you cum and it may be the most heavenly think you have felt.

When he finally pulls away, his face is covered in your juices. He smiles at you, and you want to kiss him so badly for how sexy he looks.

You don't hesitate pulling him in for a kiss, making him climb on the bed. His hands run up your body, pinching your nipples. Pleasure courses through your body and you moan into the kiss.

"I need you," You whisper out, he pulls away from the kiss. He moves away for a moment, pulling the rest of his clothes off. You can't stop staring at his cock.

You reach over to give him a handjob but he pushes your hand away gently. "Shh. I want to fuck you when I'm sober." You nod, moving to grab your clothes but he stops you. "I never said I wanted you to leave, pretty girl," he says, pulling your back to his chest. He pulls the blanket over you two.

"What are you doing?" you ask when you feel his cock press against your hole. He chuckles and pushes himself into you, causing you to moan.

"Just gettin' warm. Go to sleep, baby."

[ghysry]

Don't feel compelled to write this if you don't want to!, but I think it would be pretty cool to see TUA siblings interacting with reader in the six years without powers they can be with them since the first apocalypse and they become like family, reader can be one of the other 43 children with powers! Doesn't have to be with any specific character but I will admit Five is my favorite and they did my boy wrong in season 4

*Does a soldier salute pose* Five is my favorite too. I get you, Anon.

Oneshot! Tags: Reader x Five, Reader x Five Hargreeves, Comfort/..., I'm feeling evil today...

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

"I think this is better."

There's a reason why humans are off balance when one of their senses suddenly stops working - like the blind, or the deaf. Imagine living in a world where you can't see after years of being used to it, or living in a world where all you can do is read lips instead of hearing the sound of music. We hold our senses very close to us like organs ; because they are.

Which is why it took you an embarrassingly long time to get used to the fact that you no longer had the ability to control the state of matter. You know - the basics. Gas to liquid, liquid to solid, solid to gas, human to vapor, atom to extremely dense gas. It served you the most purpose, you were deemed the most powerful out of all the siblings, well, that is to account for the fact that you were never adopted by Reginald Hargreeves.

Ah..hm, let's take a detour down memory lane for how this happened.

"Fascinating..truly fascinating. How much would you like for them?" Reginald Hargreeves peered down onto the basket containing a blanket wrapped neatly around the quiet infant, their eyes closed and their small chest rising and falling with each breath. "I'm not going to sell my child to you, you creep!" Your mother, a fighter during her first weeks with her only child, kicks Reginald Hargreeves right in his no-longer-child-giving nuts, which causes him to double down and cough much later than a normal person usually would.

Alright, now that you know how you weren't adopted, back to the present!

Nowadays you work alongside your life time partner, or should you say, husband. Both in the CIA, both crowned as the youngest officers of peace within this barely secret government. Which leads you to here - you, in your usual spot on the couch, laying down with a groan as your back hurts, and then groaning even more when this man child--your man child--flops onto you with a groan coming out of his mouth himself.

"Augh you're going to crush me!" You tilt your head back, trying to get into a comfortable position as this big cat can't help but cling tightly onto you, even going as far as grumbling out nonsense on how he's not that heavy, and you're just too weak to stand his superiority, to which you rub at his nape and feel his throat rumble with a purr.

"You are so lucky I love you. Or else I'd tease you about the whole purring thing," Though you belittle him about his weird capabilities, you keep on scratching at his nape, then behind his ear, feeling the vibration on your chest. "Shut up.." he finally answers, leaning his head into your hand, a look of satisfaction crossing his eyes when you massage his back. He's way too old for this job, and so are you.

Five wraps his arms around you, tired eyes looking into yours, and before you could laugh at his face he's already digging it into your chest, inhaling your scent and complaining about his boss (which was also your boss) being stupid because he wanted Five to work on something more significant, rather than analyzing a group of insane geeks sitting around in a cult-support system whatever the matter.

To be fair, a lot of them have a point.

Five gulps when he lifts his head back up and stares at you, into your eyes, deeper into your soul. Years and years of fighting, bickering, war, the feeling of dying and being remade, the feeling of having to fight for your life against yourself, seeing your siblings, your only family, die right in front of your eyes without being able to do anything about it..he finally achieved peace. Peace with you.

"I love-"

"Five?" Your hand comes to ruffle his hair, eyes staring at the ceiling, feeling grateful for your sentient weighted blanket. "..hm?" He responds, arms tightening around your waist to the point where you feel like you can't breathe. Chuckling at this, you close your eyes, plunging the world into a deep darkness you've seen thousands, maybe even millions of times.

it's time to wake up.

Five shoots out of his bed, cold sweat beading down his face, his head hurting like someone had narrowly missed burrowing a bullet into it, one hand clutching the blanket he lulls himself to sleep into, the other trying to clench around a hand he knows isn't there.

"Fuck." He falls back down into his bed, which spells an awful lot like marigold, hands coming up to rub at his face and wake him. The familiar venomous feeling in his chest seems to encapsulate him when he blinks, your face is there every time he moves, his heart beats of you, yet the universe doesn't even know who you are.

Oh yes. You were never supposed to be here, were you?

[pinklotushere]

Truly madly royaly

Part 3

---

Dearest family of mine,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. Though I am far from home, please know that you are never far from my thoughts. I miss the warmth of our hearth and the sound of your voices more than I can say.

I want to ease your minds and tell you that I am being treated kindly here.

The people are polite, and their ways, though different, are not unkind. The prince, my husband, has shown me respect and consideration.

While we are still learning to understand one another, there is a sense that he, too, wishes for peace between us.

Do not worry for me. I have food, comfort, and the space to think (and isn't that what I always wished for!).

I ask, instead, how all of you are doing. How is Bruce’s health and spirits? Is Alfred still tending the garden? Dumb question, I know, of course he is.

And my dear siblings—are you behaving as you should? Giving you my love and reminder to give Bruce hell!

Please write to me soon and tell me of home. How I long to hear of familiar faces and places. Though this is a new chapter, my heart will always be with you all.

Warmest regards,

Richard Grayson-Wayne-Nightingale

Post send : My last name has gotten rather long, don't you think?

---

The first light of dawn painted the room in muted shades of green and silver, the ever-present magic of the Infinite Lands casting soft shadows on the walls.

It’s been a few days since they arrived at Dragaltia Duchy. What was a fortnight’s travel journey reduced to 10 days with fewer stops and the constant change of horses, which makes it almost three weeks since his marriage.

Dick blinked awake, his body still heavy with exhaustion. For a moment, he lay still, his thoughts as fragmented as the dreams he could barely recall.

The bed beside him was empty, though the faint warmth in the sheets told him Danijel hadn't been gone for long.

His thoughts drifted back to their conversation during their travel, just after they got in the carriage after spending the night in an inn. Danijel had been quiet.

"Do you resent it?" Dick had asked softly as the dawn broke down on them.

Danijel had been silent for a long moment before answering. "No. It's... necessary. For the peace we're trying to build."

It wasn't exactly a comforting answer, but it was an honest one. And in that honesty, Dick had found a strange sense of reassurance.

By the time Dick dressed and ventured into the morning light, he found Danijel in one of the palace's many war rooms.

Maps sprawled across the table, illuminated by the flickering light of a suspended orb. Danijel stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his focus entirely on the strategy before him.

Dick hesitated in the doorway before stepping inside. His footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, drawing Danijel's attention.

"You're up early," Danijel muttered, his voice quiet, not looking up from his work.

Dick offered a small smile. "Habit. Gotham mornings don't exactly encourage sleeping in."

Danijel huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Erdurne is... different."

"Very," Dick replied, keeping his voice measured. "I thought we should discuss... my duties going forward."

Danijel finally looked up, his sharp green eyes meeting Dick's. For a moment, there was no response, just an assessing gaze that made Dick feel as though he were being weighed and measured.

"You want to know your role here," Danijel said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Dick said firmly. "If I'm to be a part of this kingdom, I need to know how I can contribute."

Danijel straightened, gesturing for Dick to join him at the table. "You're not here to play a ceremonial role, Prince of Gotham. You're here because this marriage is meant to solidify an alliance. That means appearances, diplomacy, and ensuring our kingdoms remain united in the eyes of our people."

Dick folded his arms, his expression calm but resolute. "I'm not just a figurehead, your grace. I've led troops into battle. I've negotiated treaties. If you think I'll be content to smile at banquets and wave to crowds, you don't know me."

Danijel's lips pressed into a thin line. "This isn't Gotham. Things are... different here. You'll need to learn the intricacies of our politics, our customs. Until you do, you'll follow my lead."

"And what happens when I've learned them?" Dick moved to take a seat at the table.

Danijel raised an eyebrow. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

The room grew quiet, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension. Dick studied Danijel, searching for any sign of the man beneath the armor of duty and command. But Danijel's expression was as unreadable as ever.

"What else?" Dick finally asked, breaking the silence.

Danijel turned back to the map, his voice clipped. "You'll accompany me to council meetings and formal gatherings. There are reports you'll need to review, particularly those involving Gotham's resources and their integration with ours. Beyond that, you'll assist in whatever capacity I deem necessary."

Dick bristled at the dismissive tone but kept his temper in check. "Fine. When do we begin?"

"Now," Danijel said, sliding a stack of papers toward him. "These are reports from the border territories. Read them. We'll discuss your observations at noon."

Dick took the papers, his jaw tightening. Without another word, he started to flip through them, his mind already turning.

It was late afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow through the tall windows of the sitting room.

Dick sat in one of the oversized armchairs, a cup of tea in his hands, trying to make sense of one of the many books on Erdurn's political history. It was dense, and his head was already spinning.

Danijel entered silently, a stack of papers in his hands. He paused when he saw Dick, his brow raising slightly. “Studying hard, I see.”

Dick looked up, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement. “You didn’t tell me your political system came with its own encyclopedia.”

Danijel smirked, setting the papers on a nearby table and walking over. “I didn’t think you’d actually try to read it.”

“I’m trying to keep up,” Dick shot back. “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your advisors.”

Danijel’s smirk softened into something gentler as he pulled up a chair beside him. “You won’t embarrass me.”

Dick blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Danijel’s tone. Before he could respond, Danijel picked up his untouched cup of tea and took a sip, his nose wrinkling slightly.

“You like your tea weak,” he remarked, setting it back down.

“And you like it so strong it could strip paint,” Dick countered, unable to hide his grin.

The sitting room was warm, lit by the flicker of the fireplace, its crackling filling the silence between Danijel and dick.

Dick was still perched on the edge of a plush armchair, one leg crossed over the other, fidgeting idly with the edge of his sleeve, as he finished his book.

Danijel sat with perfect stillness and has been writing reports for the past hour and a half.

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction. It creaked open to reveal a servant, a young man in a crisp uniform who bowed his head respectfully. "Your Grace," he addressed Danijel, his voice steady but reverent. "Dinner is ready to be served in the dining hall."

Danijel inclined his head in acknowledgement, his expression as unreadable as always. "Very well. Inform the staff we will join shortly." His voice was cool, clipped, but not unkind.

The servant nodded and slipped back out as quietly as he had come, leaving the room in silence once more.

Dick, unable not to fill the void, glanced sideways at Danijel. "You have a way of making everything sound like a royal decree, you know that?" he teased, a smile on his face.

Danijel's lips twitched—just barely—but he said nothing. Instead, he set his glass down on the small table beside him and rose to his feet, the movement graceful and deliberate. He turned to dick, holding out his arm with an air of formality that bordered on ironic.

"Shall we?" he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying the faintest hint of amusement.

Dick blinked at him, momentarily surprised by the gesture, but then his grin widened. "Oh, are we playing the doting couple now?" he quipped, though there was no real bite to his words.

Danijel arched a single brow, his arm still extended. "Would you prefer I leave you to find your own way to the dining hall?"

Dick snorted and stood, slipping his hand into the crook of Danijel’s arm. "We've been having dinner together for the past week," he said, his voice light but his grip firm. "And until today, I've been doing nothing but exploring, i think i know the way."

Danijel said nothing in response, but as they walked, dick caught the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth—a subtle acknowledgement, perhaps, that the act wasn’t entirely an obligation.

Which was relieving.

The dining hall of dragaltia duchy was an overwhelming mix of opulence and austerity. The long table was carved from dark, polished wood, with ornate carvings of ancient sigils running along its edges. Chandeliers of glowing crystal illuminated the space, casting a soft, almost ethereal light over the room. Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere felt cold, much like his husband, dick thought with not little amount of amusement.

Dick sat at one end of the table, his posture straight, his every movement carefully measured. Across from him, Danijel ate in silence. The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound that filled the cavernous room.

The food was exquisite: roasted meats seasoned with spices Dick couldn’t name, delicate pastries filled with sweet and savory mixtures, and goblets of deep ruby-red wine that left a pleasant warmth in his chest. Yet, he barely tasted any of it.

Danijel looked up briefly, his piercing green eyes meeting Dick's. “You’re quiet,” he said, his tone more an observation than a question.

Dick set down his goblet, folding his hands neatly on the table. “I wasn’t sure if conversation was welcome.”

Danijel’s lips twitched in something that might have been amusement—or irritation. “You’re my husband. That gives you leave to speak your mind, even if I don’t always want to hear it.”

Dick raised an eyebrow but refrained from responding to the dig. “Fine. How often are dinners this... formal?”

“As often as necessary,” Danijel replied, taking another bite of his meal. “Though I suspect you’d prefer something less structured.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dick admitted. “Back home, dinner was often chaotic—more family arguments than formalities.”

Danijel’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “And you miss it?”

Dick hesitated before nodding. “I do. It’s strange, being so far away from them. From Gotham.”

Prince Danijel didn’t respond immediately, instead taking a slow sip of his wine. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reflective. “You’ll get used to it.”

Which was, well—rude.

The awkward silence was broken by the soft sound of footsteps. A maid entered the room, her uniform pristine, and her head bowed respectfully. She stopped a few paces away from Dick and Danijel, her hands clasped in front of her.

“My lords,” she began, her voice steady but deferential. “I bring news for Prince Richard."

Dick turned to her, his curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

“Your personal guards are set to arrive tomorrow morning, my lord. Their quarters have been prepared, and arrangements have been made for their acclimation to the palace.”

Dick felt a surge of relief at the news. Having familiar faces around would make life in Erdurne feel a little less alien. “Thank you,” he said, offering the maid a small smile.

The maid curtsied and quickly left the room, leaving the two men alone once more.

Danijel leaned back in his chair, regarding Dick with a neutral expression. “Your guards,” he said. “I trust they’ve been vetted thoroughly?”

Dick met his gaze evenly. “They’re loyal and capable. They were handpicked by Bruce himself.”

Danijel studied him for a moment before nodding. “Good. The Dark Knight is known to be a good judge of character,I’ll have someone brief them on our customs and security protocols when they arrive.”

“Appreciated,” Dick said, though his tone lacked warmth.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence, the announcement lingering in the air between them. Dick was grateful for the impending arrival of his guards—his friends—, he truly missed home

<part 2 part4>

[iznsfw]

The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

-

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit." 

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all. 

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?" 

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through." 

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge. 

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

-

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere. 

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk),  but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store. 

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks. 

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public. 

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer." 

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining. 

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask. 

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?" 

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means. 

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs. 

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one. 

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience. 

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself. 

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

-

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her. 

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open. 

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?" 

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly. 

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you? 

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!" 

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer. 

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other. 

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes. 

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?" 

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to. 

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay." 

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must),  you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm. 

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow. 

"This… this is your house?" 

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping.  "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding. 

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels. 

-

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired. 

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

���It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it. 

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table. 

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said. 

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too. 

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight. 

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical. 

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.” 

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more? 

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry.  It’s just not who she is. 

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs. 

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out. 

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.” 

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside. 

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

 You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy. 

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous? 

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that. 

-

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

[sarahscribbles]

I have a Drabble request!

Loki wanting some cuddles from his gf after a rough day. Saying sweet nothings to each other while maybe eating some desserts! Appease the sweet tooth lol

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Loki x f!reader (can be read as Loki x GN!reader)

Loki Masterlist

AN: Sorry it's taken me 50 years to write this for you! I've kept it as close to the request as I could, but couldn't think of a way to weave in the dessert aspect. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! xx

You know something is wrong from the minute the door closes behind him. It's not a slam, but there's enough force behind the action to make your head snap up from the book you're reading.

He stalks off in the direction of the kitchen without so much as a glance in your direction - that alone is enough to tell you that he's rattled. Exceptionally rattled.

Though, he has just spent the day with Tony in his endeavours to try and fuse Midgardian science with Asgardian magic. Even after all the years that have passed and the many times that Loki has proven himself, there's still barely disguised hostility from the rest of the Avengers towards him. It breaks your heart.

You can hear him aimlessly opening and closing cupboards and drawers in the small kitchen. He's not looking for anything, rather, he's embarrassed. Embarrassed to admit that the jibes and jokes get to him, that he's not the invincible being he'd like you to think he is.

You close your book and set it on the coffee table, ready to give him whatever he needs.

"Baby?" you call and he instantly stills. It's not a term of endearment you use often, only when you know he needs comfort that he won't seek out for himself.

"Yes?" Loki answers, a quiet roughness lacing the single word.

"C'mere," you say gently, already arranging yourself on the sofa.

There's a millisecond of nothing, then you hear the soft rustle of his clothing until he's standing facing you at the other side of the table. His face is expressionless, but you've known him long enough to see the flashes of pain sparking across his eyes and the small flex of his fingers - almost as if he's reaching out for you.

You cock your head to the side and open your arms. "Come here," you tell him, spreading your knees apart on the plush cushions.

You catch the brief second of his lip quivering before he wordlessly moves to settle between your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his head into your neck. You close yourself around him and breathe in his familiar scent.

Home.

"I hope you showed Tony a thing or two today. That man could do with having his ego knocked down a few pegs," your murmur, letting your hand run soothingly along the expanse of his back.

Loki scoffs, his warm breath tickling your neck. "Stark is a pompous ass."

You smile quietly to yourself and press a small kiss into his hair. "He is," you agree, "and he wouldn't have this new Division if it weren't for you. I think he forgets that."

Loki doesn't answer but squeezes your waist in a silent thank you.

You pull him closer and let one hand move to cradle the back of his head. Gentle fingers stroke through his inky curls and you marvel as always at their softness.

"You are extraordinary, my love," you say quietly, continuing to run your hand soothingly along his back. "And Tony will have to recognise that at some point. He won't have a choice."

"You'll forgive me if I don't hold my breath," Loki responds, his voice muffled by how far he's nuzzled himself into your neck.

"Tony will have me to deal with if he doesn't. You know I'm always on your side," you assure him, knowing he needs this more than he'll admit.

There's another heartbeat of silence until you feel Loki's lips press to your skin in a chaste kiss. "I love you," he says simply.

You rest your cheek against his head and he practically purrs with contentment. "I love you. More than you'll ever know."

You keep holding him until his body grows heavy in your arms and his breathing slows down against your neck.

You hold him for as long as he needs you to.

You always will.

Drabble taglist: @cake-writes @the-lady-amphitrite @kinky-faerie @muddyorbsblr @lunarnights95 @fandxmslxt69 @joyful-enchantress @goddessofwonderland @infinitystoner @liminalpebble @ladyofthestayingpower @currish-rosewolfe @loopsisloops @coldnique @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @mochie85 @littlespaceyelf

[neverchecking]

More Sage Hc's

Because I miss him :(

And this is a wonderful half-collab with @angry-trashcan. I love you so very much and thank you for letting me yell ideas at you.

CW: Mentions of child abuse, child soldiers, Zelda slander, Sage

・❥・Welcome back. :)

・❥・So, we've established Sage as his own character at this point. I think it's safe to say he is not Wild. They are similar but two very distinct characters. That is something I'd like to clarify.

・❥・But we'll step into that later.

・❥・For now, let's talk about his entire timeline from start to finish.

・❥・So, Bailey and I talked about his parents and this is the conclusion we came to:

・❥・As everyone knows, Link in the AoC/BotW/TotK timeline was in the knights by a staggeringly young age. Either four or twelve or fourteen. I've seen them all, but I'm not sure if there's a canon age.

・❥・For Sage, we're going with four.

・❥・Now, let's start with his father. Sage's father was in the knights as a commanding officer, which is why he was okay with Link joining the knights. However, because of this a lot more expectations were placed on a very young Sage. And if he failed the punishments were much harsher and much less justified.

・❥・There were nights when Sage/Link was left on the ground outside because his father didn't deem him worth the effort and forbade people from helping him.

・❥・He'd walk past and spit on this terrified child because he didn't live up to expectations. "Your mother would've been so disappointed."

・❥・(shout out to Bailey for ripping out all of our hears with that line.

・❥・Because of this Sage finds much more comfort sleeping outside. Even a a century later, he prefers the comfort of a constant rather than a bedroom he was never allowed the privilege of knowing.

・❥・When he gets his house in Tarrey Town, he builds the stable extension first and slips outside with Epona.

・❥・We also agreed that his mother most likely died during the birth of his sister, which is probably why they had to move out of the Hateno house and closer to the castle, if not on the castle grounds.

・❥・If I had to make an assumption on his mother, she was probably a timid woman that never stood against his father.

・❥・This is really just my lil tidbit but because of that headcanon it's why I made Aaliyah such an abrasive character because I feel Sage would feel too much like his father with someone who reminded him of his mother. Or the little bits he remembers of her.

・❥・Anyway, his mother was probably a seen rather than heard woman,

・❥・Now, you're probably asking about his sister. We decided that she would've ended up as a maid/servant in the castle.

・❥・This is for two reasons:

・❥・One) It adds to hatred Sage has for the Royal Family. As a knight he would've had no choice but to watch this happen and would feel that burning guilt as a bystander, ignoring the fact that he has no choice in the matter. Maybe that's why he fought so hard pre-Calamity. Of course, he still fought because it was his duty, but I also like to imagine he was trying his best to protect his sister before it could ever hit her. Even if it was a fruitless endeavor.

・❥・Two) When Sage remembers this fact, it's probably before Tears of the Kingdom. The bridge between TotK and BotW probably is Link/Sage unravelling a lot of the trauma he tried to ignore regarding the royal family. So this is almost a catharsis to the entire feat. Moreso with Zelda/Natura's reaction.

・❥・She'd be flippant and almost ignorant to the entire ordeal.

・❥・Before anyone comes for my throat, let me explain Natura's character okay?

・❥・So, as far as I'm concerned, Natura hasn't learned anything. She's very much still the same character she was in AoC which is a spoiled individual with little regards to the woes others are facing. She had a tough time, yes I understand that and she was young, but she had no reason to act the way she did with Link. I don't care, argue with the wall.

・❥・She went digging around in the remains of what was left of her people post BotW trying to figure out how the guardians worked. She puts more emphasis on her studies and research rather than her people. Remember this is Natura. Not Zelda. This is my characterization in the same way that Sage is my characterization of Link.

・❥・Anyway, she didn't go looking for a way to solve the Gloom issue, she went looking for a way to capitalize on it. Like the pharmaceutical industry.

・❥・So you can imagine her reaction knowing that.

・❥・"We kept her off the streets like a worthless rat. You should be thanking me."

・❥・Yeah, it's not great.

・❥・So then TotK happens, yadda yada.

・❥・Sage loves animals. Let me get this straight. He's not heartless, he's angry and he's vengeful. Animals never wronged him. He finds comfort with animals as they can't lie to him. He can earn their trust and they'll remain loyal.

・❥・Because Sage is a dangerously loyal man. He still carries the loyalty of the hero's spirit, but it's amplified. Once you're his, you're his forever. Nothing can drag him away from you as he won't let it.

・❥・He's so loyal it turns from a positive attribute to a flaw. :)

・❥・He's possessive and protective and doesn't see an issue with it. Everything else has been torn from his hands but his fingers will be broken and bloody before he lets what's his go.

・❥・I bring up the animal thing just to say Sage gets a dog. You know that stable that closes down in the desert? And how all the stables have stable dogs? Well, this one follows Sage all over Hyrule. And if he goes in the depths thinking he's lost it, the second he's out the dog is sniffing his ass out.

・❥・Yes, he keeps the dog and feeds it the nicest cuts of meat, don't worry.

・❥・It's name is Droolius Caesar.

・❥・Timeline wise, let's talk about that.

・❥・So again, Bailey, and they're gorgeous fucking brain, brought up the idea of him being on a different timeline then Wild. I ran with it.

・❥・I don't see TotK falling on the timeline nicely no matter what we do. Not with the Zonai and not with the other game.

・❥・So what if it doesn't fall on the same timeline as BotW? The same events happen but now it's different.

・❥・Here's how it goes:

・❥・So when Time splits the timeline we get the normal one where, yay! he saves the day! and the other one where he doesn't. Call it the downfall timeline, the fallen timeline, the failure timeline, I don't care. For the sake of argument it's the Fallen Timeline here.

・❥・So there's an idea that the timelines merge somewhere between Wars timeline and Wild's. But let's say they don't. Because the Fallen timeline goes to Legend, then Hyrule. Then what if it doesn't fix itself and just continues. which is where it then leads to Sage's era.

・❥・Only this timeline is on hard mode at all times. Legend's adventures were difficult, Hyrule's era is absolutely brutal, so it makes sense that Sage's is just as hard.

・❥・We toyed with the idea that because this timeline is so hard, the heroes that reign from it are just that much more advanced. It's shown through Legend and then Hyrule, both of whom have wielded the full triforce at one point or another (I think). Somewhere between Hyrule's world however and Legend's, the goddess' didn't like this idea. They didn't like the idea of the hero having this sense of power, so they stripped it away entirely. They knew that somewhere the hero's spirit would be tainted and took away the power that could be used to dethrone them before it could manifest with Sage.

・❥・In turn, the hero's spirit carried on and grew stronger to overcome this. Sage still has the hero's spirit, but it's not like an actual spirit. No, it's more like the fallen hero carrying on and trying to amend for his sins.

・❥・Which Sage hates. He hates it so much, but it propels him before he can stop it. In the beginning of TotK? It's what propels him to jump in after Zelda. After however? The gloom is what finally kills that spirit. Rauru can save him, but fails to save the spirit.

・❥・And from there Sage evolves and arises into the rat we all know and love.

・❥・All of this to give my own lil headcanons on Epona.

・❥・So there's a theory that Malanya (Horse god) Is actually Malon and I like that. (Because she gave Link Epona OG and they sound similar) So in Sage's Era? Guess what?

・❥・Anyway, I imagine Malanya and Sage had a better connection because of this. Malanya goes out of their way to care for Sage and his horse because they feel they failed their Link.

・❥・So Sage gets an Epona in a way to apologize for their first failure.

・❥・Epona is a very good horse <3

・❥・So in the wise words of bailey to end this off,

The hero's spirit is dead. Long live whatever the fuck Sage is.