#sorry ill stop talking about it now i was just pondering

[dykementality]

the thing is and i genuinely feel like most active bs bloggers are constantly disclaiming this. the black sails fandom and show have a serious racism problem. the only reason why this doesnt show up more is because just like ofmd the majority of the fanbase is white americans and the show is way less popular. but comparing the amount of times this has been discussed to the amount of times people have hated on or made fun of ofmd fans for no reason its pretty obvious to realize this whole thing was very much contextual. its not a competition of which show is more fucked up (even though i think its disingenuous to say theyre equally as flawed. maroon arc is mostly shily constructed and poorly executed but max’s narrative is completely dependent on her being a black woman and it is impeccable) but more of how the fandom chooses to talk about it if they do talk about it. what was weird was that when it was just funny playfighting (funny tags and etc) people were already getting disproportionately vexed so when the racial aspect of both shows came up and everyone started acting crazy and defensive… thats a little suspicious right? its a little weird and it warranted the arguments. if it was me in their place and someone said “a vote for stede is a vote for slavery” id just take it as regular tumblr poll shtick and say “yeah? and flint was in love with a colonizer for years”. normal. like a normal person who isnt afraid of talking about these topics. ​im just saying this because i saw someone say that it felt like race was brought up manipulatively and i dont think that was the case this time. its just a fact that its way easier to ignore these matters while watching ofmd than it is while watching bs and that reflects on the viewer demographic 🫶🏼

[written-in-flowers]

Her Tamer: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader | side pairings: Yunho x OFC, Yunho x Mingi, demonline x Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: demon au

Word Count: 12k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: Following the death of his father, Yunho ponders over Hell's obvious unfair class system. When you make numerous attempts to get him in bed, he decides to try correcting your bratty behavior.

Tags: poly relationship, established relationship, bisexual sex, mentions of death/loss, mentions of illness, general angst, class separation, rough sex, brat taming, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation, cuckquean, light bondage, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, breast play, exhibitionism, pet names (slut, bitch, whore, good girl, baby), facial, cum swallowing, panty sex, "just the tip", edging. Yunho simping over his actual woc!gf, Yunho generally being pissed at rich people because we should eat them.

Previously on Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady Masterlist

****

He never hated a sunrise before. The orange-yellow rays gradually pushed the night back up into the sky, breaking through and over the trees in the distance. The front courtyard remained dimly lit, though in a few hours its splendor would be in full light. Yunho used to hike up the mountains back home to bask in its warmth. The hot air would blow in from the molten lake where natural gold endlessly churned. His kin would come out from the main grounds, carrying metal poles and large vats to collect gold nuggets that washed up onto the lake overnight. They’d be turned into coins to be put in circulation. Yunho didn’t work at the mint, but he’d sit and watch them work until it was time to go. 

Like today. He stared away from the window to the uniform hanging on his closet door. Black and white, he wore the uniform every single day since he arrived at The Black Keep. Every morning, before sunrise, he’d bathe and fix up his appearance before pulling on the uniform. He’d go down to the kitchen where he’d snag a quick breakfast, then set about scheduling everyone's duties for the day. By the time anyone else arrived, he’d already have the chore chart finished, and be ready to get to work. Yet, today he could not bring himself to do it. 

“Yunho?” Mingi’s deep voice came from somewhere behind him. “Is everything okay? You weren’t in the kitchen.”

“Sorry. Overslept.”

“Overslept? You? Impossible.”

Yunho hardly slept at all, to be honest. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Hey,” a hand touched his shoulder, the warmth radiating through his thin nightshirt, “I know it’s been a rough few days for you, but at least it’s over now. Your dad’s at rest. He's not suffering anymore.” 

Yunho didn’t want to talk about it. He stared down at the letter on his desk. The creases in the paper became more pronounced from him constantly folding and unfolding it, but the ink was bolder than ever. 

‘My dear Yunho, 

I’m afraid this is my last letter to you. As you know, the holy pestilence I caught in the mortal realm has finally taken its course. The doctors tried all kinds of treatments and methods, but no amount of magic will undo what that priest had done. Don’t worry about me, my boy. Your Pop has lived a good life here in the old mountains. I may not have been a rich demon, but I lived as well as we could. 

I love you, Yunho. You are my greatest achievement, my greatest treasure, and my greatest love. Everything I have done was to try giving you a better life. I wanted you to have the things I never did, and I like to think in small ways I accomplished that. You left our home and went on to be more than I ever imagined for you. You got out, son, and that alone makes me proud. 

Please, do not mourn me, Yunho. Celebrate me. Go buy the good stuff and enjoy a few drinks. Buy a rare hunk of meat, cook it in some fancy elegant sauce, and eat it. Hell, go to one of the nicer brothels and splurge on the high price girls. Buy that girl of yours something pretty. Buy everything and anything you want. Bet money on winning horses or hounds. Don’t mope or cry about me. I didn’t get to live, so I want you to do it for me. 

Love forever, 

Pop.’ 

He received the news of his father’s death shortly after the letter's arrival. A messenger came to give him his father’s belongings, which wasn't much, but now sat in a box in the closet. He planned on selling the house to someone or perhaps renting it for some extra cash. His father wouldn’t have wanted him to hang on to the past. Sadly, the past kept wanting to hang onto him. 

Yunho has been working for most of his life to keep himself and his father fed. Despite his father's title of ‘Lord’, the family fortune had been squandered centuries before Yunho had been born. The only treasures left to them were their old decrepit mansion and a few family heirlooms. After years of scrubbing floors and cleaning clothes, he had the opportunity to work in a lord's household as a footman. From then he became a serving man, a butler, assistant, and finally a household manager. He moved from house to house serving the elite who looked down on his family. When he came into Seonghwa’s employ, his father couldn't have been happier. 

“Hey, my boy is going to work for the son of Asmodeus! Ain't that something?”  

He’d made good money. Very good money, and most of it went back home to his father. Unfortunately, his father's gambling problem took hold of him, causing him to own more money than he's worth. From what his cousins told him, a lord offered him a job possessing souls in the mortal world. Yunho wished he'd been told beforehand; he could have talked him out of it. Possessions aren’t easy, and only the well trained can perform them successfully. He told Yunho it was good money: fifty gold for every soul brought down. Yunho said his father was too old; he'd be going to his “nap” soon. His father argued that he still had it in him and to not worry. Things had been going okay, from what he’d told Yunho, until a priest got in the way. 

He doesn’t know what kind of magic the priest used, but it’d landed his father in the hospital. The doctors told Yunho that holy magic is deadly to their kind, just like holy weapons, and it would kill his father. He liked to think that he’d at least get paid for the gig. He didn’t. The lord who sent him never planned on paying him, but instead passing off his father’s hard work as his own. Yunho would have killed him were he not high born. 

“You should get ready,” Mingi said. “The Masters haven’t woken up yet, so you still have time. That big ball thing starts tonight, so they said they want to get to the hamlet early to get settled in for the weekend.”

Yunho groaned at the realization. Today was the first day of Prince Asmodeus's private ball. The Passionate Heart Ball was simply another excuse for the nobility of Hell to get together and indulge in all sorts of debauchery. Servants are not allowed to attend on a guest level, but do accompany their masters to serve. Seonghwa normally let Yunho stay behind to manage the keep, and he'd take someone else, but this time he insisted Yunho join them. He claimed the house didn’t feel right without Yunho there. His father would say that having a lord's trust comes in handy in the long run, but Yunho did not see how. Leaving the window, Yunho went to a wash basin by the mirror. He splashed cool water onto his face to soothe the heat rising inside him. 

“It wasn’t as if he was a young demon, Yunho,” Mingi said, watching him change out of his nightshirt. “Your father was four-hundred centuries old and close to taking his Big Nap; he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. He shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with possessions at his age.” 

“Don’t blame my father for falling victim to the greed of high borns.” 

“I’m not,” he said, “But I am saying that your dad’s in a better place, somewhere, maybe. I don’t know where we will go when we die.”

“Neither do I,” and that scared him. 

Picking up his uniform shirt first, Yunho thought about when he first heard what happened. He had been wrapped up in Mingi’s arms, enjoying his warmth and closeness after a long day, when Linette came into his room. Anxious, the young demon told him he had a phone call. It was his father. Yunho remembered how frail he sounded; his deep voice croaking and weak from his drained powers. He’d assured Yunho he’d be alright; that with some medicine, rest, and proper care, he’d be back on his feet in no time. The doctor Yunho spoke to disagreed. 

‘The magic stayed in him too long. He should have come straight to us after the exorcism, but he went home instead. We don’t know how long he has, but we’ll do our best to save him.” 

Yunho never felt so helpless before. Seonghwa gave him leave to be with his father without question, but that had been the worst part. Seeing his father, a strong demon of greed, so sickly and frail tore his heart in two. He’d thought to ask the lord who gave him the job for assistance of some kind, but he didn’t even answer Yunho’s calls. When he visited him personally, he was rejected with laughter. It was the least he could have done. It was another example of how the rich exploited and abused the poor without a care in the world. 

He checked himself out in a nearby mirror. His uniform fit him like a glove, since he’d paid to personally have sets tailored. Tailored clothes were an unheard of luxury back home. The clothes normal people wore either came from secondhand shops or were made from cheap fabric. Looking over the small corner dresser, a ring caught his eye. His father's opal and silver ring sat on the top, and his heart dropped. His most expensive possession, it had been passed down from Jeong to Jeong for hundreds of years. It was the last symbol of their status. Yunho slipped it onto his ring finger, fondly recalling the first time he ever saw it. 

“This has been in our family since before Lucifer. I would never give this up. Not for all the gold in the world.”

“Don't you look good,” said Mingi, likely trying to lighten his mood. 

Were he not plagued by his own thoughts, Yunho might have playfully flirted back. Not today. Not when the world felt so lifeless and grey. He may have not been the best parent, but Yunho did not hate his father. They had ups and downs as all families do, yet hate never crossed his mind once. Not even when his father gambled away his money on hounds and horses. He couldn't envision himself hating his father. Mingi’s arms went around his waist, and he rested his head on his shoulder. Yunho felt a lump swell in his throat, threatening to burn his eyes with tears. 

“He was a good man,” he whispered. “A good man who they took advantage of.” 

“I know,” he said softly, kissing the crook of his neck. “We should eat,” Mingi said, idly playing with his dangling earring, “Maybe a bit of-”

“-Did you know he was a jester before he was forced into Possessions?” Yunho said bitterly, tears glazing his eyes. “He was a jester for Lord Authos, this demon in the mountains. The man used to make a complete fool of my father, forcing him to perform tricks and jokes for the entertainment of others. I remember once seeing them throw rotten food at him in a game.” Yunho recalled the memory so vividly, it might have happened yesterday. “They thought it’d be funny,” he said, hate in his voice, “To see who could get the most hits. My father…” the resentment burned deep inside him, “He had to stay attached to a wheel and take the humiliation because those high born scum-”

“-Easy, love, easy,” Mingi soothed him softly, rubbing his arms and nuzzling his neck. “Not all high borns are like that. Our masters wouldn’t do anything like that-”

“-Yes, they’ve done worse,” he said. “Before YN came, they used to feed servants to the beast in the greenhouse. Hongjoong carries around a fucking whip to remind us who is in charge, and that he could whack us whenever he damn well pleases-”

“-He doesn’t do that anymore-”

“-I don’t care,” he spat, hands curling into fists. “Let’s not forget the demons who get thrown into the arena to die for the entertainment of the rich. They have to fight for their lives just to get back to freedom.”

“They were criminals, Yunho-”

“-Then why not punish them as criminals should be punished? Why is a man who stole a loaf of bread forced to fight his way to freedom? Did these bastards ever stop to wonder why he stole that bread?” 

“Yunho, please, calm down,” Mingi said again, still comfortingly. 

“And her,” the word came in a hiss through his teeth, “That woman treats us like playthings.”

“That isn’t true, Yunho,” he said a bit more firmly. Yunho forgot; he is your bodyguard and very fond of you. 

“Oh no? The woman is constantly flaunting and flashing her body at me, hoping I’ll give into my weakness again and fuck her brains out,” he said, remembering the last time he indulged you. He’d wanted it, of course, but after his father’s death, a high born woman is the last person he wishes to pleasure. “I’m surprised she isn’t pregnant with all the times she’s ridden cock.”

“Yunho, that’s enough,” Mingi said, moving away from him. “I know you’re angry and grieving, but don’t you dare start on her. She’s been nothing but kind to you. Okay, so she gets a bit horny, but who here doesn’t get like that? We’re all incubi and succubi, if you’ve forgotten. It’s in our nature to be that way. I recall you not saying ‘no’ whenever she managed to get you in bed, or were you pretending to make her happy?” 

“Of course not. I won’t deny I enjoyed every second, but…we are nothing to them,” he said, keeping the thickness from his voice. “We’re toys for their amusement. We can be disposed of, dismissed on a whim, and punished for the smallest infraction, and nothing would be done about it. Nobody would raise a hand or speak a word. We might not wear collars, but we’ll always be slaves to them.” 

It was true. His father proved that over and over throughout his childhood. When Authos saw his father’s potential in the coin factory, he brought him into his household as the jester. Yunho remembered every punishment he witnessed whenever his father did not perform well. Seonghwa and his brothers might not engage in the same amusements, but they never spoke against it either. They went to the arena, enjoying the benefits of their station. They did not protest when they witnessed poor treatment in front of them. If they did, it was said with annoyance or boredom. 

“Let’s get something to eat, huh? Otherwise, we’ll be starving when we get there.” 

“I don't think I can.”

“Just try.”

Yunho supposed he could. The pair left the servant's quarters for the kitchen, which was starting to come to life. Other servants walked around in their uniforms, preparing for The Masters and Mistress to wake up for their usual routine. He saw Cook and Linette already arguing across the island counter, and the footmen fighting about who gets to drive the Masters to the hamlet. The laundress stood near the scullery, scolding a maid so harshly the girl might burst into tears. Yunho did not have it in him to intervene in any of these spats. He walked by Cook and Linette to a cupboard pantry, where he normally fixed his own breakfast, but couldn't find the desire to eat. 

“-Master Seonghwa asked for a special breakfast,” Cook's rough voice reached from behind him, “And that's what I'm making. She's going to just have to swallow it.”

“Lady YN doesn't want the prefixed breakfast. She wants her own.”

“Master Seonghwa is the Duke, so his orders trump over hers,” he retorted. “Yunho,” he called him, “Come here and tell this Imp-”

“-Imp?!”

“-That I ain't taking special orders today. Master Seonghwa has requested a pre-fixed menu, and that's what I'm following.”

Yunho sighed deeply, pinched the space between his eyes before finally turning around. “What does Lady YN want?” he asked Linette. 

“French toast with strawberries, hashbrowns and eggs,” she answered. “She doesn't want to eat what Master Seonghwa has picked.”

“Too fucking bad,” hissed Cook. “She can't get her way all the time. There's rules in this keep, last time I checked!”

“Cookie, enough,” Yunho said, patting his shoulder. “Linette, Cook is right. Master Seonghwa asked for a specific type of breakfast, and Cook has already gone about preparing it.”

“She's not going to-”

“-I'm sorry, but Cook is starting to fix everything,” Yunho said, trying to keep himself calm. Why did you have to complicate everything? Why couldn't high born people make everyone's lives easier and take what they’re given? The rest of them have to. “She will have to eat whatever-”

“-She's the Mistress of this-”

“-Tough shit,” he nearly snapped. “Master Seonghwa is the Master, A Duke of Lust, and an Heir to Asmodeus’s throne. His word is law around here. Even with the title she holds now, she's going to have to come to heel once in a while. If she has an issue with that, she can take it up with one of the Masters.” 

Takenaback by his response, Linette did not speak at first. “She said-”

“-I don't care,” he cut her off again. “That's my final word on the subject. Franny!” He called the laundress, “Keep shouting at that girl, and I will give you something to cry about! They are just sheets! They can be washed again!” He turned to the four footmen near the back door, “Edgar, you are driving Master Seonghwa, Hongjoong and San. Mingi will be driving Mistress YN. Daniel will valet for the Masters, and Joseph will valet for The Mistress. If I hear any more bickering, everyone is getting a whipping from me personally!” He looked to the room at large, “It is six o'clock in the morning, how can you all have the energy for this nonsense? Am I running a house staff or a nursery?!” 

He left the kitchen without another word. Yunho began wishing he had not left his room. He squeezed his eyes tight, his instincts carrying him to Seonghwa’s bed chamber, as he pictured his father’s last moments. He’d told Yunho to go home. He said he didn’t want him to see him this way. His aunt and cousins stayed behind to watch over him for Yunho, and called him regularly now that they had a phone. He pictured his father, broad and strong, laying brittle and pale in his bed. His usual warmth, Yunho remembered, slowly turned cold and stiff as time passed. It sapped life from him slowly. That lump came back to his throat and he forced it down. 

He couldn’t help thinking of the lord, Lord Authos, who was part of Prince Mammon’s court. Clearly wanting to gain favor with the Prince, he offered the possession job to low income workers who wanted to earn some extra money. Authos could easily have done it himself, but he felt himself too above such work. All nobles did. It’s why they didn’t do their own housekeeping or cooking. 

He walked into Seonghwa’s apartment, and already sensed a shift in the air. Yunho moved to the bedroom doors where he heard your soft moans. Of course. When are you not throwing yourself at the nearest person? It was likely with some kisses and teasing, you'll get your own breakfast and disrupt everyone else's routines. You didn't care. Why should you? An inconvenience to one is not an inconvenience to a lord or lady.  

He stopped himself. You weren't to blame for his father's death. You didn't even know. He hadn't told anyone aside from Mingi, Seonghwa and Linette. Mingi was right. You might be a bit overzealous with your desires, but you never forced yourself on him even with your new abilities. You’ve always treated him with respect and compassion. You’re certainly different from other ladies he’d served, and he shouldn’t take his anger out on you or any of his masters. 

But, a part of him simply could not help it. 

Yunho decided to tidy the room instead. He had no desire to interrupt and possibly be drawn into the act. He only wanted to push away the thought of his father lying helpless in a hospital bed. When he heard your final climax, he stopped fluffing pillows and knocked on the door. 

“Enter,” Seonghwa panted from behind the door. 

As expected, both you and Seonghwa laid tangled in one another. Fully nude, neither of you bothered covering yourselves when he entered. Not that he expected that. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in your shape and size from afar. The usual urge to fondle and kiss you came to him, but he’d learned long ago how to control those impulses. If he stopped to indulge every time he felt a trickle of arousal, he’d get no work done. He didn’t have all the time in the world like some people did. 

“Good Morning, my lord, my lady,” Yunho bowed. 

“Morning, Yunho,” you smiled at him. “Ooh, I like the ring. It’s new.” 

“I thought I’d try accessorizing today,” he half-lied. 

“It looks good. Is that a real opal?”

“It is.” 

“Greed demons only wear real gems,” said Seonghwa. “You’ll never catch one dead in imitation stuff.”

“What did Cook say about my breakfast, by the way?” you asked, sitting up and stretching. “I sent Linette to ask him about it.”

“What breakfast?” Seonghwa asked before Yunho could respond. “I already sent him a menu for today.”

“I saw it,” you said, “But I’ve been craving french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar lately and thought it was a good day to have them.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Cook only prepared the ingredients and supplies for Master Seonghwa’s fixed menu,” Yunho said. “He doesn’t have all the ingredients to make anything off that menu.”

“Well, can’t he just get it? The market isn’t that far. He can send someone to get the stuff, and he can make it.” 

‘Or you can stop being a brat and eat what you’re given.’ He thought sourly. 

“He doesn’t have anyone to spare,” Yunho answered honestly. 

You left Seonghwa’s side to kneel in front of him. In the morning light, your divinity glowed. He swept over your naked breasts, following a trail to your center where you kept yourself trimmed. Having just had Seonghwa, he spotted a distinct wetness on your inner thighs. When he met your eyes again, you gave him that typical flirtatious smirk of yours. A high born woman was the last person he saw himself pleasing today. No doubt you’d now use your seductive powers to get what you want from him. 

“But, surely with all your influence around here,” you said, reaching for his hand, “You could just talk to him for me? You’re one of the only people he actually listens to.”

“Because we respect the chain of command,” he replied, “Which is what we’re doing here. Master Seonghwa made an order, and we’re only following it.”

“I’m the Mistress around here. I think I have a bit more power than I used to, right?” You massaged his hand delicately, giving him a small pout. “I shouldn’t have to beg a servant to get what I want.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he slipped his hand from your grasp, “But unless Master Seonghwa changes his mind, then there’s nothing we could really do for the situation.”

“But Yunho,” you brought him close, your naked body against his clothed one, “Aren’t I your goddess?”

He knew you’d use that line. The image of you taking advantage of him crossed his mind. You’d undress him, kissing down to his crotch where you’d eagerly suck him. If he couldn’t enjoy Linette’s lovely body or Mingi’s soft lips, he’d at least get yours. It’s not as if you’d say ‘no’. Everyone in the keep knew you could go for much longer and didn’t mind multiple lovers. But, he thought of the work he had to do downstairs. 

“You are,” he said, though it wasn’t your face that came to mind these days, “But goddess or not-”  

“-Kitten,” Seonghwa cut you off, “How about you start a bath for us? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Or Yunho can do it with me,” you suggested, “Like he’s supposed to.” 

“YN,” his voice came more firmly, “Go, please.” 

You gave a short huff of contempt, but then slipped from the bed. 

Yunho busied himself tying back the curtains behind him when Seonghwa spoke. “It’s not her fault.”

“You spoil that girl,” he said, roughly tugging on the golden chords. “She might be a lady, but there’s a hierarchy around here, and you’re in charge. Not her.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “Try telling her that.”

“I’ve never understood the point of having a set routine if it is constantly broken,” he said. “She never eats when or what everyone else does. She never dresses accordingly. She never-”

“-Yunho, she isn’t to blame,” Seonghwa said harshly. “As you said, she’s a Lady of Eden-”

‘A whore of Eden, more like.’ 

“-And you’ll respect her.” 

‘Why? She doesn’t respect herself.’

He stopped himself again. 

“I’m sorry about your father, Yunho, but he entered into that agreement. He knew the risks before he went up there.”

“The man didn’t even pay him,” Yunho seethed. “He risks his life going up there to collect souls, and the bastard doesn’t pay him. He laughed. He fucking laughed.” His voice cracked, thinking of the highborn lord's wheezy laughter. “I asked him to pay up, and he laughed.” 

“Authos is a demon of greed.” 

“He knew my father could not disobey his orders, and took advantage of that for his own gain.” 

“Again: are you really that surprised?”

“It doesn’t make me any less angry.” 

“I know it doesn't, but lashing out at others is not going to heal anything. It’ll only fuel your anger more.”

“Good. Somebody should be angry.” 

“Carry on with your duties, Yunho,” he said with a sigh. “I want everyone on the road by nine o’clock. The hamlet is far, and it’ll take forever to get there. See that Cook makes YN’s breakfast, please.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

He bowed and left the room. Seonghwa didn’t understand. He has never had to answer to anyone, not even his lecherous, indifferent father. If Yunho’s father had refused the task, he would’ve been whipped or worse, and then forced to go. Authos knew his father needed the money. He knew about his father’s gambling debts; he knew about the loan sharks that constantly dogged him, and how deep in the hole he’d gotten. Yunho’s salary combined with his did not make the cut. None of them understood that. Right as he walked out of Seonghwa’s apartment, a high voice called out to him from nearby. 

“Yunho,” Master Hongjoong stood by his open door, tying his black robe around his waist. Cherry red hair slightly tousled from sleep, he still had the bleary eyed look of having woken up. “Yunho, make sure Cook brings out the riesling for breakfast. Seonghwa prepared a light breakfast, from what he told me.”

Wine for breakfast? “Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, then escaped back into his room. 

It wasn’t long before the third master of the house appeared. A towel draped over his shoulders, sweat matting his black hair, Master San grinned at him happily. “Yunho, glad I ran into you,” he said, dabbing his forehead. A morning run. How nice to have such leisure time. His father would be getting ready to amuse the lords right now. “Can you make sure that Cook makes my eggs over medium? Over-easy is too runny for me.”

“I’ll let him know right away, my lord,” he bowed. 

“Thank you, Yunho.” 

At least he gets a ‘thank you’. He never received that from other lords or ladies. Yunho knew, as he walked back to the kitchen, that he was incredibly lucky. If he worked for any other lord, he’d be whipped on the spot for his attitude. Seonghwa might sympathize after his childhood in the slums, but he was still part of the upper class. The nobility. The people who made other peoples’ lives miserable simply because they could. One would think that kind of treatment would be given to sinners and mortals, not their fellow demons. 

“Cook,” he approached the demon by the stoves, flipping bacon on a flat-top grill, “Master Seonghwa has approved of Mistress YN’s breakfast order.”

“What?!” he growled at once, cutting up the bacon with his spatula, “You’re toying with me, boy.”

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to send someone to get the ingredients for it.”

“I don’t have enough hands,” he gestured to the four cooks around him. “The market is an hour away from here. Tell him I can’t.”

“I’ll send one of the servants, then. Master Seonghwa is the Master of the House. He gets what he wants.”

“Hmpfh, they all get what they want,” he grumbled. “Back in my day, the women did what the men told them or else got a black eye. He lets that little nympho-”

“-Cookie,” Yunho said sternly, “Don’t get riled up again or you’ll irritate your hip.” From what he knew, Cook sustained his lifelong injury from holy magic centuries ago. It never healed right. 

He took the chopped bacon off the grill, “Alright, alright. What did she want again?”

It won’t heal his wounds, but it could be fun to see their faces. “She said french toast with blueberries and cream.” He then added, “And don’t shoot the messenger, but Master Hongjoong asked for chardonnay with his breakfast wine and Master San wants his eggs over easy.” 

He growled, fangs flashed for the briefest moment. “Any other special requests while you’re here, Jeong?”

“No. Everything else stays as is.”

He gruffed, then went back to the grill. Yunho walked to the coffee station where the servants prepared their own drinks. He mused over how his father loved coffee, and what a luxury it was to the lower classes. One might think greed demons draped themselves in precious metals and gems, wore fine designer clothes and drove flashy cars. The ignorant thought they drank fine wines and ate rare and exotic dishes. It might be true of the wealthy, but not the poor. Not like him and his father, who had nothing. Yunho worked hard to get the things he had now, while people like Seonghwa and his brothers simply received it. Stirring fine sugar into the rich, dark drink, he recalled what his father once told him. 

‘Enjoy the finer things slowly, Son. We don’t get them very often.’ 

He’d said this when he caught Yunho greedily shoving chocolate in his mouth. Another rarity. Yunho normally lets his resentment float away in the air, but not today. 

****

The feast disgusted him. Standing by the kitchen door, he watched maids take plates of food upstairs. Chilled fruits, fresh baked goods, steaming breakfast potatoes, sausages and bacon, and various types of jams and spreads went by him on silver platters. Fresh squeezed orange juice, cold milk, and hot coffee were carried up in carafes. Seonghwa, San and Hongjoong would be eating a special kind of frittata with zucchini and fresh herbs, accompanied with rations of bacon and crusty bread. His father usually ate a hunk of bread or a bowl of cornmeal mush with mint tea. Hardly the food of kings. 

Or dukes. 

“The wine Master Hongjoong requested, sir,” a servant said to Yunho, showing the bottle for his inspection. 

“Perfect,” he grinned. “Thank you, Diana.” 

Yunho typically then worked with the housekeeping staff to tidy up the apartments, but instead, he went upstairs behind the maids. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. He saw the masters and mistress sitting at their dining table, a table decorated in a fine cloth and real silver candlesticks with fresh flowers. This dining room was larger than the poor mountain shacks back home. He watched the servants put down the trays around the table, then the magic began. 

“Um, Yunho,” you said first, staring down at your plate, “I’d asked for strawberries and sugar. This is, like, the opposite.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

In front of you was a stack of fluffy slices of french toast with cream and jam in between, topped with blueberries. He knew people who’d be more than grateful to have such a sweet, filling breakfast. Yet, you pouted over the slight change. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. “Cook must’ve misheard me. He’s been distracted lately. His hip must be bothering him again.”

“Then Cook must be really off, because I asked for my eggs over medium,” said San, who examined his eggs. “Didn’t you tell him about it, Yunho?”

“I did, of course, sir.”

“He also got the riesling and chardonnay confused,” said Hongjoong, who sipped the drink from a wine glass with a silver stem. Real silver, not painted wood. “But, no big deal. It’s still just as good.” 

Your disappointment healed something inside him. “I guess this is okay,” you said, cutting into it and taking a bite. “It’s amazing either way. Like, Cook is a genius.”

“The man’s been around since before Lucifer’s fall. He worked for Beelzebub before our dad hired him. It's why he gets away with everything.” 

“Tell Cook thanks,” you told Yunho, “And that I hope his hip gets better. He’s a mean ol’ grouch, but he’s our mean ol’ grouch.” 

You took a big bite of the french toast, cream ending up on the sides of your mouth. Seeing the mess brought images of the last time you put him in your mouth. It’d been sloppy and rough, involving him choking you with it. He had indulged you because you’d kissed him beforehand. You’d learned how to control the dosage of your kisses, knowing light pecks only lasted an hour while deep kisses kept one going all day. Yunho did see the downsides even if other people did not: it was physically taxing and draining. He didn’t have the time for that. 

Not with you, anyway. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, my lords?” he asked the family at large. 

“No, thank you, Yunho,” Seonghwa answered, picking up the newspaper he’d been handed. “You may finish packing up.”

He left the staff to clean up after breakfast service, and started preparing for departure to the meadows. While the family went off to enjoy their day, everyone else kept working. His father never had a day off. Jesters are meant to be “on” every day from sunup to sun down. He only stopped when his masters went to sleep; the same fate his son shared now. The only difference was Yunho got Sundays off. 

Such was the life of the lowborn. 

“On a scale of one to ten,” Mingi said when he approached the carriage outside, “How disappointed are you that your little plan backfired?”

Yunho sighed, “About a three. In the end, it was childish and petty. Deep down, I shouldn’t be blaming them for what another demon lord did.” 

“You're lucky Master Seonghwa can’t read your mind. You'd be in trouble for sure.” He then said, “How about you, me and Linette get a drink tonight when they've gone to sleep? Asmodeus has the best bartenders who can sneak us the good stuff.”

“Alright.”

Everyone got into their places when the front doors opened and the four masters came out. Seeing them in their tailored clothes and expensive jewelry, smelling of fine perfumes, his resentment for the higher classes grew. He watched Hongjoong and San slide into your carriage while Seonghwa rode alone. What sort of change had you demanded now? He didn’t care. He’d be riding with Linette and some of the staff. At least, that was what he thought. 

“Yunho,” you called to him sweetly, “Come ride with me.”

He noticed the short sundress you'd thrown on, and couldn't look away. The deep V neck line plunged between your breasts, making them more noticeable to him. The last time he touched them came to mind, your hard nipples being teased by his tongue. Linette had been there, stroking him while you both shoved your tits in his face. 

“Oh, I'm already riding with-”

“-And now you can ride with me,” he saw the glimmer of flirtation in your eyes. “I know you got my order wrong on purpose,” you said with a sly smile. “You can make it up to me in the car.”

“He's already riding with me,” Seonghwa poked out his head from his carriage window. 

“But Seonghwa-”

“-He is my butler. He rides with me.”

You huffed, and walked off. Yunho couldn't ignore the pang of disappointment. He watched your dress swish along the backs of your thighs. If he couldn't have Linette and her sweet lips, he could at least have enjoyed yours instead. 

“Yunho, come along now.”

Unable to refuse, Yunho climbed inside the carriage. He'd been looking forward to riding with the others. There are so few chances for down time in their line of work, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He hadn't spent much time with Linette, and he would've liked to be with her. Seonghwa pulled out a deck of cards as the carriage began rolling. Yunho’s lip curled slightly knowing how this ride would end. 

“She can be incorrigible,” he said, expertly shuffling the deck. “I suppose the railing I gave her wasn't enough.”

“She is part succubus, sir.”

“We're both incubi, Yunho, and we can control it just fine.”

“She might still be trying to control that part of herself. It's hard to learn that when everyone enables her.”

“We enable her, hm?”

“Yes, my lord. If she is accustomed to getting what she wants, then she'll  see no reason to control her urges.”

“Is that why you're always rejecting her?”

“I reject her because not all of us have the time in the world. We have work to do.” 

“But when you have no work and are stuck in a carriage with her for a long trip?” he suggested, a knowing glint in his eyes. “She loves big ones, and you're…considerable.”

“Well, if that were the case, I wouldn't mind indulging her.” He'll admit, the idea of you half naked, moaning and bouncing in his lap sounded nice. Though, Linette sounded so much better. “She's…”

“A horny nymph that knows exactly what to do to lure you into her bed,” Seonghwa finished amusedly. 

“Yes.”

“You should have seen her when you left,” he said. “She whined that she wanted you to join. I explained to her what has been going on with you, and she stopped after that.” Seonghwa eyed the ring on Yunho's finger. “That is a nice ring though. Where did you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” he answered. Glad to have a topic aside from you, he grabbed at it. “It came with my father’s things. It belonged to one of my ancestors; I don't know which one. It was the most expensive thing he owned.”

“It must’ve been hard for him,” he began dealing out cards. “Greed demons love money and gold.”

“But not all of us have it,” he said, picking up his hand as it came. “I sent him money every payday to keep him at least comfortable, and he gambled a good chunk of it away. He was drowning in his debts, and always needed money.” 

“What about your mother? You never talk about her.”

Yunho’s heart ripped another hole. “She was killed by an angel,” he said. “She was a demon of wrath.”

“I thought you were pureblooded.”

Yunho shook his head, “They told me they met in the inner city at a gambling den. She was a guard; my father was a jester.” 

“Well, that explains your strength ability,” he huffed, putting a card back and picking up another, “Can that be the reason you leave my Kitten so sore when you’re done with her?” he smirked. “She tells me you become a different person when you’re hard.”

“I suppose. Her kisses only make it worse.”

“Ha, that they do,” he snorted. “She knows the power she holds and isn't afraid to use it now. It’s how she gets her way.”

“That and that she has you wrapped around her fingers, sir. I never knew a Son of Asmodeus to cave to his submissive’s charms so easily.” 

Seonghwa smirked, “She’s very persuasive, as you well know. You oblige her.”

“She’s my mistress. I have to cater to her every whim.” 

“Then, you can cater to her at the party. I'd like you to come with us,” he said next. He hissed when Yunho showed his winning hand, and took back all the cards. He started shuffling again as he said, “My father's butlers are fine, but they don't know us the way you do.”

“I'm not going to be a toy,” Yunho said sternly. 

“You won’t be,” he assured him. “You’ll be there to serve, not to entertain.”

“Both are the same thing to that crowd.” 

“Not with me. Now,” he started dealing the cards again, “Let’s put in bets this time. It makes things more interesting.” 

By the time they reached Asmodeus’s territory, Seonghwa lost a ring, a watch and most of his money. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t play against someone who can block me from their mind,” Seonghwa said, chuckling at his misfortune. It must be nice when one doesn’t have to worry about going broke. 

The sun shone high above the flowery meadows that stretched for miles, smelling of wildflowers and fresh air. It made for a romantic, tranquil sight as they drove through the dirt road. He imagined the flowers might carry some sort of alluring enchantment to draw people closer to his massive mansion in the countryside. They would be travelling to the countryside home reserved for the three masters. A hamlet set on the side of a large lake, there were two distinct areas: the main house, and the servant’s house. Yunho couldn’t help noticing the much larger main house could easily fit more people, while the servant house was smaller. 

Clearly, the royal ego needed the extra room. 

“I forgot how gorgeous this place is,” Seonghwa softly grinned. “When was the last time we were here, Yunho?”

“Four years ago, my lord.” 

The ride from the keep gave him a chance to cool down, so now his exhaustion finally hit him. But, there was work to be done. His own belongings would have to wait until the family was settled in. Immediately, Yunho began directing the footmen on where the masters’ luggage belonged. Seonghwa took the bedroom that overlooked the gardens; Hongjoong preferred the lakeside view, and San favored the room facing the meadow. Since it’s meant to house guests, you took up the room beside Seonghwa. No doubt he will discreetly tell you about the hidden door connecting the two bedrooms. Yunho unfortunately knew about the servant pathways behind the walls. To avoid disturbing the family and their guests, servants used these paths to get from one part of the house to the other without being seen. Cook told him the ones back in the keep were used for that before Seonghwa took over. 

He spent the afternoon preparing the different bedrooms, and then went to the kitchen for lunch service. He’d been inspecting the produce for bruises or rot when Linette appeared in the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare come to me with any special requests, girl,” Cook warned from the large walk-in cooler. “The menus are already set.” 

“She just wants a snack tray for lunch,” Linette said. “Green grapes, sliced ham and turkey, those little cheese cubes, and some crackers. Don’t say you don’t have them, because you do. She put it on her list.” 

“What’s wrong with what I am serving?” he asked, affronted. “It’s going to be a masterpiece. How could she want a silly snack tray instead?” 

“She isn’t that hungry after the breakfast she had,” she shrugged. “Can’t you just do it? She’s our mistress, and we have to go along with her wishes.” 

“Damned woman,” he grumbled, grabbing his apron and going back into the walk-in. “All the work we have to do and now I have…never in my years have I…should’ve stayed with Beezelbub…” 

Yunho felt her eyes fall on him, and he ignored her gaze. He pictured those big brown eyes surveying him from afar, likely trying to read his mood. If anyone other than Mingi stirred something inside him, it was Linette. 

“Yunho?” she walked over to him, “How are you?” 

“I’m well.”

She came around the counter to stand next to him. Yunho sometimes forgot how beautiful Linette really was. Enchanting and charming, the natural light highlighted her golden dark brown skin, and gave her curls a shine. She’d worn it back in a high slicked up ponytail, letting the curls fall freely at the end.  He gazed over her full lips, recalling their sweetness from the lip balm she wore, and thought of kissing them. He thought of holding her smaller frame in his large one, drowning his senses in her. Everything in his heart weighed him down, and he longed for a quiet moment with her. 

“No, really,” she said. “How are you feeling? I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since your father passed.” 

“I said I’m well.”

“Yunho,” she drew closer to him, “Please, don't shut me out.”

Yunho paused, feeling her warm hands on his arm. “It’s a lot,” he admitted, putting the apples in a bowl. He swallowed back the lump again. “I’d rather not get into it right now.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. “We can talk later tonight then? Mingi wants to get drinks from the bar. The three of us could drink together and catch up.” 

A smile broke his stone face, cheeks getting warm. “Catch up, hm?”

“You can call it that, if you want,” she smirked. “I personally call it a bit of stress-relief,” she said in his ear, lips brushing the outer edge. “Your girl has been extra good lately. Shouldn't I get a little reward for that-”

“-Don’t,” he cut her off, “Or you might get it sooner than you intended.” 

She smiled, “Is that a promise?” 

He finally turned to see her. She no longer wore the black and white uniform of the rest of the staff. Hers was a light lavender that ended around her thighs. The first three buttons remained unopened, and from the right angle he saw her ample cleavage. When he really looked, he noticed a golden chain just beneath her collar. His heart warmed knowing that she wore the ring even under her clothes. Golden with the words “my beloved” engraved inside, it had been his mother’s wedding ring. She wore it in a necklace since it might get lost with the type of work she did. Yunho didn’t mind. Her simply wearing it made him happy. 

“Will you be entertaining tonight?” he asked, unable to control the slight possessiveness he felt over her sometimes. 

“Mistress YN said I could if I wanted,” she said. “There will be a lot of good looking lords and ladies there, but I don't want any of them.” She paused, “Will you be going or staying here?”

“Master Seonghwa wishes for me to go,” he replied. “On a serving basis only, not entertainment.”

“Shame,” she pouted, “I thought we could sneak away once they all start drinking and have our own party somewhere.” She glanced at Cook, who had his back turned, and leaned in closer, “I miss you in my bed. Mingi comes to me still, but I miss having you. It’s not the same.” 

“I haven’t been in the mood.”

“Even for me and Mingi?”

“Yes. I haven’t…felt up to it, that’s all. It isn’t you,” he added when he saw her frown. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, it’s that…”

“You’re still upset,” she finished for him. “I understand. It’s why I haven’t bothered you, but after I saw you explode in the kitchen,” she smiled bashfully and looked away, “I’ve been kind of turned on.” 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you break like that before,” she said. She looked back up at him, “It was sexy. You’re usually so cool and calm even when you’re angry. Seeing you be so open turned me on a bit.” 

“If your mistress keeps pushing my buttons, you might see more of it.” 

“Maybe I can push them too?” 

She moved to press against him, but then a ringing bell caught their attention. Yunho saw the bell in Seonghwa's bedroom ringing, and wondered what he could possibly need now. 

“Later?” He turned to Linette. 

“Later,” she said, “If our mistress doesn't swipe you from me first.”

She tiptoed to kiss his cheek, then walked back over to Cook. Yunho put off his work to go to Seonghwa’s bedroom. Standing outside the door, he heard voices rising. 

“-I told you not to bring that thing with you! I specifically said it! I said ‘Kitten, bring whatever you like except that beast’!’”

“Oh, leave her alone! She's not hurting anyone.”

Yunho knew right away what Seonghwa referred to: Minnie, the miniature version of Octavius you'd created. The untrained plant slunk around your bedroom, being treated more like a dog than a plant. It hissed and growled at everyone except you. She bit and nearly strangled one of the footmen. She liked tearing up furniture, leaving her slimy trails everywhere, and eating everything in sight. Seonghwa warned you to keep her under control and properly train her. From what Linette said, it was not going well. Yunho didn't think you'd bring her with you. 

“She tore up my couch cushions, YN, and nearly killed one of the footmen,” he replied firmly. “I can't believe you brought her when I said not to.”

“I can bring her wherever I want,” you argued. “She's my baby.”

“She's a menace,” he retorted. “Look, she's eating my boots!”

“Minnie, no! Bad girl!”

Yunho heard a low growl be soothed into a soft purr. “She doesn't know any better,” you said. “She's only a baby.”

“A baby who needs proper training.”

“I have been training her. She's a work in progress.”

“I don't want her here. I told you to leave her at home.”

“I'm not a slave anymore. I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to,” you'd remarked. You sounded like a child. Yunho told him it was a mistake to let you keep it. “It's too late to send her back. I'll keep her in my room, I promise.”

“Fine,” he said defeatedly. “Just get her out of here before she eats the rest of my stuff.”

Opening the door, you stood slightly startled to find him there. In your arms was the bulbous green and purple plant with its thin vines acting like arms. No eyes, Minnie used the long tendrils to feel her way around. Yunho once told Linette he didn't see the beast lasting long. Either it wilts away and dies, gets lost or finally hits the masters’ last nerves.

“Yunho,” you said, taking in his presence, “Can you see if Cook has any spare meat for Minnie? She's hungry.”

“Yes, my lady.” The damn thing was always hungry. 

“Awesome, thanks! You can just bring it to my room.”

You beamed appreciatively and walked away. Yunho entered the apartment to find Seonghwa flopping down into a chair. He immediately went to work fixing a drink for his master, who took it gratefully. 

“I can't believe she brought that thing with her,” he groaned. “Now it's going to destroy the house.”

“I'll ask Jongho to keep a close eye on it, my lord.”

“I specifically asked her not to,” he continued, taking a drink. “She never listens.”

“Perhaps you should start reigning her in more,” he suggested. “You are the Master of this household. Not her. She should at the very least listen to what you have to say.”

“Are you saying I should spank her more often, Yunho?” he leered. “Or would you like to do it yourself?”

“If you wish to pass the job onto me, then I will do it, my lord.” The thought of you across his lap, weeping and whimpering as he spanked you hard crossed his mind. “She could use one.” 

He imagined you, so high and mighty, kicking your feet and wriggling as his spanking grew harsher. You'd get wet, no doubt, seeping from both holes as your arousal grew. Unlike his masters, he wouldn't give you the pleasure you needed until you earned it. A proper lesson isn't learned if there's a reward at the end. 

“It'd be a delicious sight, huh?” he asked. 

“She's…” 

“Been teasing you all morning. I've noticed. You're the hardest one for her to get into bed. I imagine it bugs her.”

“I have work to do. Was there something you needed from me, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said, drinking from his glass, “Can you make sure lunch is served in the garden? It's gorgeous outside and I'd like to enjoy the view.”

That was all? He called him away from Linette for that? “Yes, sir.” 

He bowed and went back towards the kitchen to relay the order. With everyone busy working on lunch service, Yunho went into the walk-in for strips of beef for the plant. He thought of giving the order to Linette or Jongho, but they were busy attending to your room. He put a few slices on a silver platter.

“I know you aren’t taking my Grade A, prime beef up to the beast, boy,” Cook said as he chopped onions. “That's dinner.”

“I only took a small portion,” Yunho said. 

“Why can’t you just find a hellcat or a bird and use that?”

“I’m sure it’ll find one eventually. Cook,” he sighed defeatedly, “I don’t like this any more than you. We must make do with what we have on hand.”

“Hmpf.” Despite his reaction, Cook knew he was right. “Back in my day,” Cook gruffed, pushing the onion aside, “Ladies had hellcats and hounds, not plants that eat everything in sight.”

“Oh, that’s not true and you know it,” Yunho chuckled, walking past him. “Mistress Minyoung once had a two-headed snake that kept strangling everyone, remember?”

This lightened the old demon’s mood somewhat, and Yunho went back upstairs. 

Entering your room, he should have known what he'd really be walking into: you half naked on the chaise couch by the window. You'd stripped off your dress to reveal the hot pink lingerie underneath, showing off the body he drooled over. 

“Ah, you brought Minnie's food,” you smiled, strategically laying on your front, hugging a pillow so he saw your whole figure. “Minnie, baby! Lunch!”

Minnie slunk from a leafy bed in the corner towards Yunho. She hissed, baring sharp fangs and waving her tentacles, and went for his ankles. Yunho nearly kicked her before tossing the food away. When she went towards it, he scowled before turning back to you. His eyes lingered on your chest again. He already knew of their softness and sensitivity. He loved flicking his tongue on them to hear you whine his name. Yunho could not help worshipping you every time he indulged. The only woman whose body beat yours was Linette, whom he adored. 

“Thank you, Yunho,” you said, making a point to grind as if getting into a comfortable angle. “You're always so helpful.”

“It's my job, my lady. If that is all, I have work.”

“You work too much,” you said, “That's not good. All work and no play?” 

“Not all of us have the luxury of getting to play all day,” he said as calmly as possible. Why did you all insist on wasting his time? “If you need nothing else-”

“-Not even a few minutes for your Mistress?” You pouted as you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs. He could see your shaved cunt through the flimsy underwear. “For your goddess?” you teased, giggling at his rosy cheeks.

He stepped forwards, walking to where you sat, “That depends…” Yunho suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, keeping you in place on the couch, “Do you deserve it?” 

“Yunho…”

“Because sluts like you should work for what they want,” he said, his other hand going down your body to your center. Long fingers danced up and down your slit, prodding through the fine fabric keeping you apart. “If the masters won’t do it, I’ll gladly take up the task for them.”

“Yunho,” you said, surprised but not displeased, “What's gotten into you?”

He bent down to you, then said in a low voice, “You. You have been teasing me all day,” he traced lazy circles over your center which caused you to wriggle under him. “You've been flashing those tits of yours at me. You've been suggestive and forward. I bet if I'd ridden with you, I would've been the one getting a ride.” He gave your sex a light tap, sneering at your reaction. “Pathetic little slut,” he said, tapping it again, “Sex is all you think about, isn't it? Hm?”

“Yes,” you murmured, breath getting heavier as your arousal built up. 

“Well, so do I,” another smack, “And you don't see me dropping my pants every two minutes to get off. Some of us don't have the privilege of such free time.” He slapped your pussy once more, harsher than the last. “We have to work. We have things to do,” he gave another slap, “You should be more aware of that.”

“Yunho,” you whined, “Stop. It hurts.” 

If it truly did hurt, you would've forced him off you with your vines or sic your pet on him. Yunho knew you did want it. You'd been wanting it all morning. 

“It's supposed to hurt,” he said, rubbing your stinging center soothingly. “It's a punishment. I mean a real one, not what Master Hongjoong does. You're not going to get any dick from me. Only good sluts get my dick in them.”

“But I'm your-”

“-Right now, you're a bratty bitch who needs to learn her lesson,” he smacked your pussy again. 

He then roughly rolled you over onto your front, and lifted your ass into the air. Your soft giggle and surprised yelp told him you wanted this. If he truly sensed you didn’t, he would stop. Even if he resented your social class, he’d never hurt you on purpose. 

His large hand holding your wrists behind your back, he began landing hard spanks to your buttocks. Your cries sent blood pumping to his cock. They were the pathetic, childish whines that spankings produced; you wriggled around in every spank, but did not do much to escape him. Yunho grew harder seeing your cheeks move to the quick, hard hits. The feeling of his fingers hitting it felt good. The movement gave him that power he desperately wanted over you. He knew you'd be positively wet when he finished, begging to be touched at the very least. He wouldn't give into you.

“I'm not your boyfriends,” he said. “I won't fuck you just because you want it. You have to earn that with me.” 

The room became louder with the sounds of your painful cries and his hand meeting your ass. Touching it with the back of his hand, he felt the tender heat coming off them. Hongjoong always kept his spankings short nowadays, honestly holding back more than he did with regular maids. Yunho wasn't like that. Everyone received the same punishment the same way. He smacked your ass and the backs of your thighs a bit longer before stopping. 

He slackened his grip and gazed over you. He saw you laying there breathless, and eyeing his bulge. You must think you’ll be getting him now, but he’d love to deny you that. Not even Linette received a single inch when she misbehaved with him. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, hand smoothing over your tender ass. 

“I’m telling Seonghwa,” you cried, sniffling softly. 

“I asked you a question: have you learned your lesson?”

“I’m your mistress. You’re supposed to do what I say.”

Yunho shrugged, “Clearly not.” 

His hand fell down faster, swatting each cheek until you were wriggling away from him. Whenever you drew too far up the couch, he dragged you back down. Seeing your wet panties, he pushed your legs apart and started slapping it again. This caused you to jump, quaking from the lighter smacks he put to it. 

“Now?” he asked, rubbing your swollen sex and feeling it throb on his finger tips. 

“It’s not fair,” you sobbed into the cushions. 

“It sounds more than fair to me,” he replied, “Maybe I should do it in a way that you’d understand.”

Tugging off his tie, he bound your wrists together with an intricate knot. “Stay still,” he said, giving your thigh a smack when you shimmied away from him. He withdrew his cock from his pants, feeling it pulsate in his hand, and pressed it to your flimsy underwear. “If you even try to cum, I’m stopping,” he warned, softly groaning at your swollen lips against his tip. “This is for me to enjoy, not you.”

“You’re supposed to do what I say. I want you to fuck me.”

“And you’re supposed to stay still,” he spanked you once more, “Or I leave and give my cock to somebody else.” 

“It’s mine!”

“No, it’s not.” 

He rolled his tip around your clit, tapping it lightly and tracing it. You quaked under him, and he heard your frustration. It didn’t bother him at all. 

“Your masters are going to punish you,” you cried, sobbing when he smacked your ass once more. “Really, really, bad, for what you’re doing to me.”

“Psh, are you kidding me?” he chuckled, enjoying the light feeling of your panties on his cock. “They’d probably stay and watch. You asked for this.”

You kicked your feet, nearly escaping him before he maneuvered you to have your legs together. This folded you in half, him straddling your legs to keep you in place. He continued teasing you through your underwear, wetting his cock in the process. He’ll admit, he was tempted to stick himself inside you, but he knew better. That’d be giving you what you want, and you wouldn’t get that here. Once they were wet enough, Yunho pushed his tip into your hole. They only let him go an inch or so inside, but that was enough to please him. 

“Yunho!” you cried, “Please put it in.”

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You have to do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” 

When you tried pushing back into him, he stopped. “What did I tell you?” he slapped the side of your thigh. “Huh? What did I say about staying still?”

“Keep going!”

“What did I say, bitch?” he asked more harshly, “Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Seonghwa!” you called out, and that only made him harder. “Yunho’s being-”

“-Your boyfriend isn’t going to help you,” he said. As much as he didn’t want to, he pulled away from you. “If you’re going to keep being bad, you’re not getting anything now.”

“No!”

“I told you what would happen, and you continued to be disobedient. There’s consequences to bad behavior.”

“San! San, help!”

“Keep calling him, nothing’s going to happen.” He got off the couch, “Maybe I should leave you here to think about your behavior. I’ll come back when you’ve understood it better.”

“Hongjoong will punish you for me. You’ll see,” you spat back, still playing with him, “He’ll whip you for doing this to me.”

“You talk too much,” he sighed irritably, grabbing his handkerchief. He roughly stuffed it into your mouth, “You should learn to keep your mouth shut. Good girls speak when they’re spoken to. Now,” he began putting himself back in his pants, “I’ll be back after lunch. We can continue this then.” 

Right as he planned to leave, someone else walked in. Linette, holding your snack tray, stood in slight shock as she spotted you on the couch. She took in your puffy eyes and guessed what might have happened. 

“Yunho,” she said, her eyes wide, “What are you doing?”

“Mistress YN has been a brat. I’m simply correcting that behavior.”

“You could get into real trouble for this. Mistress, are you okay?” She put her tray down and walked over to you, removing the handkerchief. “I promise Yunho isn’t like this really. He normally asks first or knows if you want it. Please, don’t feed him to Minnie or send him to the greenhouse. He’s been going through a lot lately, and-”

“-Linette, it’s okay,” you sniffled, giggling. “Really.”

“It is?” she asked. “I…Um, okay…Well, let me untie you. Your lunch is-Yunho! What are you doing?”

He sometimes loved his strength. Lifting her from the floor, Yunho placed Linette on the coffee table next to the chaise. On her back, he had full access to her body. The arousal she’d likely been feeling all day flared up at the touch of his hands. His dick hardened even more once her tits were in his hands. 

“What are you doing?” she asked again, laughing softly at his eagerness. 

“I’m going to show our mistress what good girls get,” he said, kissing her neck. 

“Yunho!” Linette giggled, but doing nothing to stop him as he tore at the buttons of her dress.

Soon, he saw the white bra covering her soft breasts. He roughly tugged it down to start sucking and licking her dark nipples. The smooth skin slowly tightened at his tongue, which he moved along with slow swirls. Yunho glanced over to see you watching with a frown, biting your lower lip as the sight kept you going. It felt good. For once, a high born wanted something from him and not the other way around. He kissed further down Linette’s body, feeling her soft stomach and thighs to discover her bare sex inches from his face. 

“No panties,” he growled, kissing her inner thighs as he knelt at the other end. “Such a good girl.” 

“I wanted to make it easier for you,” she said, her back arching when he licked at her clit. “I’ve been wanting your dick in me all morning.” 

“So has your mistress,” he kissed the spot of essence coming out of her. “She’s been teasing me since I woke her up today.” He looked over at you, “Good girls don’t tease. Only bratty girls do, isn’t that right, Linnie?” he went back to licking her folds as she answered. 

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, propping up on her elbows to watch him eat her out. 

“I’m telling my boyfriends what you’re doing,” you said, pouting. “Then they’ll tell you that you have to fuck me.”

“That’ll only be after they’ve each had their turn,” he replied, enjoying Linette’s sweet taste. He chuckled when she squirmed at his rapid flicking. He held her in place as he continued, licking her in swift circles. “Linette never gives me sloppy seconds,” he said, “Not even with Mingi. She lets me have the first round, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” she whimpered, biting her lower lip. “I always fuck you first, sir. I love your cock so much. Please, can I have it now? I’ve been a good girl.” 

“You always are.”

He stood up, pushing her legs far apart and plunged into her. Yunho gazed over at you, and saw you become breathless. In your position, you couldn’t do anything to stimulate your pussy. You could only watch and imagine it being you. Yunho lifted Linette’s legs so you saw his thickness stretching her out. It reminded him of the first time he saw you with someone. It had been with San in his apartment, where he took you on the dining table. Yunho knew then he’d do anything to have you wrapped around him, but you’d belonged to his masters, so you were therefore unattainable. 

Then he looked down at Linette. Panting and whining, she played with her breasts while he thrusted. While sex with you was fueled by your kisses and touches, Linette’s was natural and meaningful. He bent down to capture her lips, opening them to brush on her tongue. His arousal burned deep inside him the longer her walls dragged along his length. She felt so good. You felt equally good. Were it not your punishment, the three of you would be on the couch together. 

“I need you,” he whispered to her, kissing her neck and kneading her tits. “So badly.”

She started pushing down to meet his hips. He stayed still as she tightened her pussy and easily milked him. Euphoria pumped through him like a drug. He started pumping Linette faster, relishing in the sounds she made as he angled himself to hit her g-spot repeatedly. 

“Turn me around,” Linette pleaded, legs resting on his shoulders. “I love it when you fuck me from behind. You go so much deeper that way.”

When Linette guided him back inside, he grabbed her full, round cheeks. She cried out at the sharp smack he gave, and she knew what to do. Hands flat on the table, legs spread apart, she stayed still as he continued his steady pace. He turned to see you watching, slightly squirming as your arousal continued. 

“You see, YN,” he said, “This is what good girls get to have.” He made long, slow strokes that made Linette claw at the table, “They get to have every inch of my dick inside them. No teasing. No edging. Just each inch and every drop of cum I can give them. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He chuckled when you nodded, “So, you'll behave from now on?”

You nodded again. He noticed something crawling in the corner of his eye, and he instantly stopped. “That thing is not fucking you,” he said firmly, despite the Linette’s whining. 

Minnie had slunk to your couch, likely smelling your juices, and wanting to feed from you. It had already made its way up one leg to your center, wriggling a tendril at it. You shivered as the creature’s vines tore off your panties with ease. 

“Minnie, no,” you kicked at it, “Bad girl. No feeding.”

Minnie growled, angry at being denied, but persisted. She strapped herself to your thighs, then slithered a tentacle over your cunt. In your compromised state, you couldn’t reach to rip her from you, so Yunho did it. The beast hissed and tried biting his arm, but he tossed it away before it could do anything else. 

“That’s the first good thing you’ve done since I walked in here,” he said, still pumping into Linette. “Maybe you are learning.” 

“See? I can be good too,” you whimpered. “Can I have it now?”

“Not yet,” he said. He looked down at Linette, “Linnie hasn’t finished yet.” He grabbed both her arms to hold behind her, effectively bouncing her on his cock, “Such a sweet girl,” he grunted, mesmerized by the sight of her ass meeting his hips, “A sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy.” 

“And it’s all yours!”

“All mine?”

“Yes!”

“Good. As it should be.” 

“Please, Yunho,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on. I won’t tease you anymore. I’ll give you my pussy only when you ask. I’ll do whatever you want. Just come fuck my tight, wet pussy, please.” 

“But, I have Linette right here,” he said, slamming into her to prove his point. “And her pussy is the best I’ve ever had.” 

“But mine is good too,” you shook your hips for him to see your glistening sex, “Even if it’s just the tip again. I want it so bad.” 

“Stop whining. You’ll get your turn.” He continued pumping into Linette, watching her ass ripple whenever his hips hit hers. “Linnie was good first. So, she gets it first.” 

“Sir, can I cum, please?” she asked through her whimpering.  

“I don’t know, can you?”

She grunted, almost laughing, “May I cum, sir?” she corrected herself. 

“You may.” 

He loved hearing her orgasms. He drowned you out for a moment to savor the loud moans she released. Her warm cum thickly coated his cock, the tightness clenched as it sucked him into her. Yunho held her to him closely, his fingers working her clit until she finished. After a few more pumps, Yunho went back over to you. With your panties in shreds, he had no trouble plunging inside you. He showed no tenderness with you. If you didn’t moan loud enough, he smacked your ass until he heard you cry again. If you whined or pleaded, he stopped. 

“Do you promise to be a good girl from now on?” he asked you, lifting your head from the couch by your hair. 

“Yes,” you sobbed. 

“Yes?” He started being rougher, tightening his grip and pounding faster. 

“Yes, sir! Yes, yes, yes, sir!”

“That’s a good whore,” he smiled, changing his angle when he heard you getting closer. “That’s it. Make me cum,” he forced your head back onto the bed, “Tighten that hole and milk my cock…There you go. See? That’s not hard, right? You can be good when you really try.” 

He kept going, the sensitivity working through his entire length, and he looked over at Linette. She’d remained on the coffee table, on her back with her legs spread. Yunho’s jaw dropped seeing her so exposed, biting her lower lip and teasing her nipples. This offering couldn’t be ignored. Once he felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed deeper. 

“I know you’re not cumming before me,” he growled, slowing his pace. “Good girls don’t cum without permission. I thought Master Hongjoong might’ve taught you that.” 

“I ca-an’t help it,” you cried, “It feels so good.”

“Then you better learn how to help it,” he said, going back to his previous pace. “Because you’re not getting a drop of cum if you do. You want my cum, don’t you? I know you love cum.”

“I do, but…oh my god, fuck, that feels…”

“Don’t do it,” he warned, but not slowing down. “Don’t you dare…”

“Fuck, I’m so close! I can’t stop it! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

Thighs shaking, fingers gripping the tie around your wrists, you couldn’t stop the waves coming over you. Yunho felt your sex tightening, milking him as he pumped in and out of you. His cock became coated in you, the movement making your juices thicker and whiter, and he thought he might cum from seeing it. Yet, he kept himself in check as you finished shuddering. In a few final twitches, you slumped against the back of the chaise and took deep breaths. 

“Yunho,” you breathed when he pulled out, “Cum in me.”

“Good girls don’t get my cum…” 

Linette came over to him when he sat on the edge of the couch. She didn’t need to be told what to do. Mouth on his tip, she sucked and licked while stroking his length with both hands. The twisting motions combined with her lips brought him to climax in seconds. She moaned at the thick streams filling her mouth, slurping and swallowing them greedily. Linette never left a single drop behind. Yunho’s hands curled around the edge of the couch, his knuckles turning white as his body tensed. Her mouth and hands elongated the sensitivity coursing through his shaft and tip; he groaned through his teeth, jaw clenching and hips thrusting up into her. When he finished, he took in how beautiful she looked. 

“Show me,” he said, and grinned when she opened to show her empty mouth. “Good girl.” 

Gently, he untied you and let you uncurl from your position. He took you to the bed where he rubbed your stiff muscles and bottom with a healing salve he kept on hand. As he smoothed the aloe-concentrated paste on you, he muttered sweet praises and soft kisses to soothe you. You gradually fell asleep in his arms after being stuffed by your snack tray. Finally leaving you to rest, Linette cornered him outside the bedroom. 

“I really enjoyed that,” she whispered, arms going around his torso, “I think I like hard Yunho. He makes me a bit scared and extremely horny.” 

“Does he now?” he smirked, holding and kissing her softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A thought came to him, “Let’s go to my room. I’m exhausted.”

“What about lunch service?”

“Cook will manage it for me,” he took her hand in his. Going to a large portrait in the corner, he revealed the secret passage behind it. “I just want to be with you right now.” 

Her smile made his heart flutter and he kissed her again. An afternoon wrapped in his favorite person sounded so much nicer than tending to a bunch of high borns. 

They could make do without him. 

****

A/N: Aaaaand it's back! Sort of haha I really like Yunho and Linette, so I hope you guys do too. Feel free to reblog and like <3

[semisolidmind]

I’m sorry if this was already asked but is MK in the twice as bad au? Since Peaches is immortal, she would probably find MK first or she finds him while her husbands are looking for her outside the palace. They find her outside playing with a little boy. Wukong didn’t think twice about adopting him, especially when he saw MK lift his staff, and Macaque loves telling him stories.

(it was, but ive been thinking about TAB mk lately so ill talk a lil more about him

so I think the last time i talked about mk in the context of this au, it was in the version where reader is killed while she and the boys are on the journey, and the boys go into a violent depression slump for the next thousand years. in that timeline, wukong finds mk as a toddler and raises him like his son (with macaque standing by for uncle duty). mk becomes an unstoppable force of nature under the monkey bros tutelage; enough so that any of the foes that posed a problem for him in the show are child's play in this au.

reader being present for mk's upbringing is one of the better timelines for him mentally. he gets to have a mom, for one. and instead of having just the brutal philosophy of the monkey warlords taught to him, he's also taught to have empathy and compassion. instead of just killing his enemies, he tries to show them mercy. it's a better outcome for everyone involved, honestly.

there's a few posts of mine that explain this modern iteration and reader's place in it, but let's talk about your scenario.)

reader goes on a morning walk. a rare occurrence, given her husband's love of sleeping in and their usual refusal to let her out of the pillow nest. but, they had an early appointment today, so reader took the opportunity to shirk her queenly duties and go visit some of the scenic mountain locals. whilst on her walk���

she finds a little monkey demon boy. just wandering the jungle, seemingly in awe at everything around him. reader isn't sure what to make of him. she takes notice of his unkempt state.

reader doesn't want to believe any of the monkeys would willingly neglect or abandon one of their children, but the boy is covered in dirt, his fur somewhat matted, and he has no clothes to speak of. perhaps he's just lost? he is very little. maybe his parents just lost track of him...regardless, reader feels the need to take him back to the cave to ask around and see if anyone can identify him.

when she calls out to him, he looks over at her, but doesn't respond. when she approaches him, he just...looks up at her, following her movements when she kneels to be closer to his height. reader asks for his name, and the boy doesn't respond. but he does step closer, his little tail twitching curiously.

reader cautiously reaches out to brush some of the matted dirt from his fur, moving the overgrown mess away from his face. he has amber-gold eyes, not dissimilar to what wukong said his looked like before the furnace. while reader ponders the similarities, the boy suddenly climbs into her arms. she instantly embraces him back, surprised but knowing that baby monkeys like to be held nigh constantly. poor lil guy, she thinks. probably missing his mama. the way his tiny hands grip her robes breaks her heart a little.

reader decides that she'll take care of him for now; he needs a bath, some food, and proper clothes, at least. reader takes off her overcoat and wraps it around the lil guy before hefting him up into her arms; he's pretty heavy for someone so small.

reader turns and heads back to water curtain cave. the little boy settles against her, tiny hands curled against her chest and his head in the crook of her neck. reader holds him close. she reassures him that they'll find his family.

after politely waving away a few embarrassing questions from some well-meaning monkeys along the way (no, he isn't her baby, she didn't leave for an hour or two just to have a baby, please stop saying that—on that note, do you know who his parents are), reader makes her way back to the cave.

she supposes she can see why they'd think that the child in her arms might be related to her; the boys' fur is a similar shade to her hair, though slightly darker (and the likelihood of her children being demons like their fathers is very high, should they ever have any).

as they get further into the cave, and closer to the palace, reader is stopped by a group of servants wondering about the child. reader explains as the monkeys (a small group comprised of aunties) look the child over, mulling over who's baby he could be. maybe this family? no, none of them have that fur color, and the face shape is different. perhaps he's from this village, on the east side of the mountain? no, none of them have had any babies yet this season, and the children they do have are all older than this one. they go back and forth like this for a while.

while reader talks, the boy suddenly perks up. he sits up and his eyes focus on something in the distance. reader turns to glance at what's gotten his attention.

ah, she sees.

her husbands have just finished their meeting, and one of them is now headed this way.

that's the king, she tells the boy. the boy says nothing, and stares at the approaching monarch.

reader understands why. the king is wearing his armor today, the gold plating glinting off refracted light coming from the waterfall. his cape and vestaments flow behind him as he makes his way toward them. he's the very picture of a noble ruler.

riiiiiight up until he notices that reader is carrying a child that looks suspiciously like her. his entire expression morphs into surprise, then gentle curiosity.

the king stops short in front of them. reader can almost see the gears turning in his head. he sees the gold eyes, the fur color...perhaps he's having a similar thought as his many subjects about the child's origins.

wukong steps into reader's space, a hand on her arm. his eyes are searching, a question on his face. where did this child come from? reader explains how she found him, and how she has yet to find any of his family or anybody who recognizes him. wukong assures her that if he has someone looking for him, they'll eventually turn up at the palace.

in the meantime, he may stay here, the king decrees. he can see that reader's gotten attached, and doesn't think separating the child from her would be a good idea. the little boy clings to reader like she really is his blood.

reader takes the child inside, getting him a bath and clean clothes, then takes him to kitchens to get him something to eat. wukong joins them, and attempts to get the boy to speak. reader feels her heart soften just a tad every time she sees her husband interact with the mountains' children.

---

no one ever claims the boy.

so, wukong and reader formally adopt the child, and give him the name xiaotian. he is soon accepted as first prince of flower fruit mountain.

wukong begins to train xiaotian to become a warrior as soon as he sees the boy lift his staff with suspicious ease. once he's old enough, he takes xioatian with him to the dragon palace. wukong won't give up his signature weapon, but he will steal another pillar for his son to weild. he trains the child to be as much of a threat as he is. despite his rigorous training regime, wukong is a very caring and playful father.

macaque becomes another guiding figure, and finds that the child loves to listen to stories. every night before xioatian settles next to reader's side to sleep, the darker-furred demon regales him with tales of his and wukong's exploits. reader chimes in occasionally, calling him out whenever he embellishes.

reader remains a comforting figure for xiaotian. he goes to her when he feels lost or upset, knowing that she could give him a gentler perspective on his problems. she's his rock whenever he's unsure. he knows that if he gets caught up in the politics of demon-dom, she'll be there to be a calming presence. he's very cuddly with her when he's small, and goes to her for hugs once he's bigger. he's very glad to have her around to help him.

xiaotian becomes a very cautious person as he grows, the ideals of his adopted sires pushing him to believe that most immortals, demons, and mortals are not to be trusted. however, reader teaches him that not every problem needs to be solved with violence.

his life is very different than what it could have been.

[isatswap]

(isat spoiler, its technically act 4 i think? but ill say full game just to be safe)

also this is a short one as well because uhhhh something something idea drought

Mouth Shut

TTOS version of Bad Touch from ISAT

(Mirabelle is here, probably pondering what favor to ask the Tree.)

Loop:

"Mira."

(Stay silent.)

"Hi Mira, I need to do the Favor Tree thing!"

Mirabelle: ... Mirabelle: Oh! Loopie! I didn't see you there! Mirabelle: Anyway, I was looking at the Favor Tree? Isn't it beautiful?

Loop: (Cue joke.) "Yeah, it is."

Mirabelle: Glad you agree!

Loop:

"One could say it's so beautiful..."

(Stop there.)

Mirabelle: Uh huh???

Loop: "...it's LEAFing me speechless."

Mirabelle: Pfft! You're so silly, Loop!

(You both laugh.)

(You wait for her to ruffle your hair.)

(Why do you have to wait? Why do you have to wait? Why do you have to wait?)

Loop: (...)

(Keep waiting.)

(...)

(Suddenly you realise a very basic thing.)

(She will never do it. She will never be your friend. You will be stuck here forever.)

(Stuck in your yearning.)

(Unless you're the one that breaks the cycle.)

(She could be your friend. She is already, basically. You can confide in her. Tell her about the loops.)

(You just have to say it.)

(You just have to say it.)

(You just have to say it.)

(You just have)

Mirabelle: Hey, Loopie, whats wrong?

(?)

(!!!)

(You haven't noticed but)

(you're crying.)

(Mirabelle quickly removes her hand.)

Mirabelle: I'm sorry! I really am! I didn't know you hated touch this much.

(!!!)

(Wait, no! Please! That's not it!)

(She thinks you hate her now!!!)

(Just say it, stupid! Stop crying! Just )

<Short loopback>

Loop: "Hi Mira, I need to do the Favor Tree thing!"

Mirabelle: Oh! I'm in your way then, aren't I? I'll skeddadle then, see you at the Clocktower!!!

<Moving to the Favor Tree>

Siffrin: ...

Loop: "..."

Siffrin: What was that about? Can't even tell her, huh?

Loop: "..."

Siffrin: And I thought you were friends.... Can't hide the truth from your friends, you know! Otherwise what kind of friend are you?

Loop: "Shut up."

Siffrin: ...

(He, surprisingly, does.)

Siffrin: I get it. It's hard to share your struggles. But you can't run from it forever. Mark my words. Siffrin: ...That's enough fee-fees talk from me. Siffrin: ... Siffrin: You also got a Memory! I'm not gonna do the usual thing. You wouldn't want me to.

Siffrin: Anyway, how can I help you on this wonderful loop?

Memory of Weakness.

"Can't even say anything." [Reduces all Skill damage of the wearer by 50%]

[an-obsessed-cactus]

I think i may be asexual?!

(okay this got longer than expected and i wanted to stop talking cuz ppl won't read it if it's so long and then i realized I'm not here to please anybody and i just wanna process some stuff so. yeah. also i come to realizations farther down that contradict some stuff from the beginning but I'll just leave my whole thought process here)

fun. um. I've realized I'm not straight two years ago and then started learning more about all things LGBT related and think myself educated enough on this topic but.

I've been pondering my sexuality and gender identity again more in recent days and. today i randomly stumbled across a yt video where the author (are you an author on yt? my brain is glitching rn)(also the 'author' in question is @jaidenanimationsofficial wonderful videos love the animation and the humor) talks about being aroace. few hours pass, my stomach hurts like hell so i go to lay down and sleep a bit, wake up and have a realization.

i googled again what asexuality is and read some more on this. i did this before and i guess i didn't see myself in it? so i kinda crossed it off the list of possible identities. i guess because i do want to have sex. i think. I'm not opposed to it and i get horny lmao. but that's only with fictional characters and works? like i just think: that was very sexy of you. but in a platonic way?! sex doesn't cross my mind. (also can you get aroused by music? or a good written work? or movie? like not even the characters but the work itself?) sorry i dunno I'm confused.

anyway i got a bit off track. what i wanted to say was that i suddenly remembered a convo i had with my sister a while ago where we talked about what is the difference between friendship and a romantic relationship. and she said it's that u wanna have sex with them and i was like ... i don't really think that's it...

and like. i get crushes i think. but I've never experienced this want to have sex with a particular person at least that i could remember. like a want to have sex? i guess yeah i mean not rlly sth i think about much but it's not unprecedented(see: i get horny)

honestly I'm not even sure anymore if im not aromantic as well. cuz queerplatonic sounds more like my jam?

like i felt(feel?) like omnisexual described me well because i think I'd be attracted to who the person is at their core. what if ur straight as a girl, date a boy, and then it turns out he's trans? i dunno i feel like gender isn't this fixed thing which then kinda creates problems when labeling urself with a certain sexuality. aaaa people came irl and i lost my train of thought. um. i feel like labeling myself anything other than omnisexual would feel limiting. even if i never developed a crush on a girl for example (i did), i still feel like i could potentially. like there's nothing stopping me. why shouldn't I?

OKAY SO

that was written yesterday. it is now today and i have a whole lot of new thoughts and realizations.

I had a bit of a marathon with @jaidenanimationsofficial videos and i came across an older one she mentioned in the previous one i watched about being aroace(ik it's a mess) about how she couldn't understand why when romantic feelings are not mutual people don't just continue being friends. and i was like EXACTLY WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! and um. ahem. do u really see it as a problem? I guess if everyone does. but I'm starting to seriously consider if I'm aroace as well which woah there. this happened in a span of a day and I'm not sure it's real and it doesn't feel real? some time will have to pass for me to check out this theory cuz. ppl often say they felt like there was sth wrong with them and then they discovered these terms and were like aHA that's it! that explains everything! and I didn't... have that? and I'm not sure to what extent i identify with aroace because reasons(ill talk about some of it below). and I'm not saying that not having this realization moment or not feeling like sth is wrong with me through my life devalidates my orientation and stuff but it makes me doubt i guess?

i also came to an important discovery that aroused and horny are not the same. who would have thought?! I said above i get horny but apparently being horny means to want to have sex. and i just get the physical part aka arousal. fun. someone help pls im so confused.

okay for the last part(which prolly won't be the last part but one can hope right?)

i said i realized i wasn't straight two years ago. that was when i realized i like my best friend as more than i friend. well it wasn't exactly that simple. tbh i think Lucifer(the series i am NOT a satanist) helped a lot with that? like i knew about some lgbt stuff before because I'm alive on this planet but it kinda made me think about a lot of stuff, and between that stuff was my sexuality as well. idk. it's not like i had a crush on any of the female characters. just got me thinking for some reason. like why is having sex with people you're not romantically involved with wrong? why is prostitution wrong if u enjoy it and get money for it and it's well managed and secure? but that's beside the point.

well anyway I didn't know what i felt towards my bff(I'll say bff cuz bf also stands for boyfriend so it feels weird) but it felt like more than friendship. didn't feel like sth romantic tho. then i discovered queerplatonic relationships exist and i was like i think that's it! and then new school year came i saw her again and doubts flared up. again there was never i wanna have sex with her, but there was an occasional i wanna kiss her. and she was so important to me so it has to be romantic love right?! romance is the highest form of love one can experience afterall! nothing whatsoever can compare to it!! it feels ✨magical✨ when you find you will finally be completed!!! anyways.

it felt like romantic love was the only thing that could justify me feeling this way. i won't go deeper into this because i already have a draft where i do(i have like 16 drafts with uncompleted rambles so...) I'll try to post it but. i told her and we're still good friends! it actually made me closer to the rest of my friend group(which i was only a part of on the paper before)(i was so focused on my bff before I didn't really do group) because i felt a bit distanced from her for a while(she's a people pleaser like me and even tho i think i can read her well im paranoid and i thought she may feel weird?). anyways i got close with 3 other amazing ppl in the meantime and my friendship with my bff hasn't suffered!

but between my feelings being kinda realized and me telling her a whole year has passed and in the end i wasn't even sure what i was feeling anymore just that i didn't want her not to know. idk.

now im wondering what it was. even back then half year pre confession i was thinking if it was just because someone was finally paying attention to me. i didn't really do friends before (i kinda had them but there were no deep convos or shared secrets) and then there was suddenly this person who genuinely enjoys spending time with me! and listens to my problems! and weird obsessions! this sounds kinda sad put like this ngl lmao. but this was the first time I had that deep connection with someone. two years in my confused feelings came. geez i got off track again. point is i thought i was straight up until then and then had a crisis cuz i thought i only liked her cuz she was giving me attention cuz i was straight goddamit! ANYWAYS.

this post has lost all direction. it is a frustrated ramble of a very confused person. let us continue

i will just sum up how i feel about genders and people because I'm a chronic oversharer. oops doops.

men: find them aesthetically pleasing, all celebrity crushes are in this category (there's only one really but if i found a celebrity attractive like not objectively but to me it was a man), i would also get kinda crushes on boys my age when i spent 5 minutes with them. don't ask. i think it's dopamine mining(i suspect i have adhd). im not used to male company and i kinda don't like it that much but the the ?butterflies? are still there. tbh i don't really know what to do with men. doesn't stop me from having crushes tho. i don't have any real desire to be in a romantic relationship with men. i don't exclude the possibility but i haven't found one i would want it with. i also don't know now to interact with them. let alone flirt. actually flirt in general. it feels like it would be cringe and belongs in bad movies.

women: freaking amazing!! love them! no celebrity crushes, one irl crush which might have moved beyond crush(i suspected the L word for a while) to friends or it might have never been a crush in the first place! help! now there's another friend outside of my friend group who i may like. or i just enjoy her company? im not used to this yet. i forgot i think im aroace. this is killing me.

nonbinary/other genders: I haven't met any yet. there are some on discord servers im a part of but I don't really interact much just lurk there. i think irl experience would be different anyway.

someone please explain sth to me. you have sexual attraction okay get that(not really but that's not the point). but then there's romantic attraction. how do you separate that from friendship? just this intense feelings of wanting to be with them at all times? okay myb myb let's say u can separate them from friendship. what about queerplatonic? guys??

i am starting to dislike labels. this is confusing.

also i gotta figure this romantic thing out cuz im writing a fantasy series and there's romance involved lol.

okay so i guess i am at least asexual cuz i don't see ppl and go 'i wanna have sex with them'. i am not yet thoroughly convinced im aromantic as well but we'll see about that ig. because i still don't understand what the difference between romance and deep friendship is. aghhh

although if i can't tell the difference myb that answers the question.

also how does someone who is asexual but romantically attracted to all genders label themselves? like omnisexual ig doesn't work cuz it omnisexual.

i went to google aromantic and.

"demiromantic people have romantic attraction only after forming an emotional bond with another person."

HOW ELSE DO YOU HAVE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION??? Isn't this about who the person is?! Do you just see them and go: oh this must be such a good person. what?

like i understand sexual attraction when you see someone ig. but romantic? i really need someone to explain this to me in depth. i haven't even been asking the right questions.

"Quoiromantic people can't tell the difference between romantic and platonic attractions." Welp i guess i have a new label i can stick on myself. also the name is killing me. (quoi=what in french💀)

(edit: well this thing just posted itself. I DIDN'T HIT POST WTF. but it's out there now. ig it had enough of me adding new and new thoughts. im inclined to agree)

[jounosparticles]

au where the hunting dogs disband and jouno and tecchou join the agency together (they both need some purpose, some sense of justice to act out and they don't know where else to go). tachihara returns and stays with the mafia, and brings teruko with him because they don't want to separate. i feel like she'd hate being a mafia agent (i know nothing about her, i haven't watched season 5 and i last saw 4 when it released) so maybe she just lives with tachi. i wonder what jouno and tecchou would do if they were on a mission to stop the mafia and encountered tachihara again....

sorry for the long ask btw i wanted to tell someone this and all my friends are asleep #heartbroken

also ill give myself a sign off because iv sent you like 3 asks atp but im too terrified to remove anon

- 🗡️ aka literally jouno again :3

DONT BE SORRY!!! i love getting asks this is so fun to me :) idk who u are but you seem cool and id always love to hear your ideas !!!

i also super recommend checking out season 5 whenever you can :)) call me biased because i am but i think it’s a great season :)

ANYWAY

first i’ll talk about teruko. i do not see her going into the mafia however i can her sticking with tachihara. i wonder if it would create some sort of tension or if they’d just let each other live? hmmm i’ll have to ponder that idea. i do 100% see tachihara going back into the mafia though, he found his place there.

jouno and tetchou joining the ada would be really fun i think. i could see maybe some tension due to what happened in the whole "dogs hunt dogs" episode, however since it was a misunderstanding i can see them being forgiven easily as well.

i feel like jouno would have a hard time adjusting. he has a low temper with tetchou i can just imagine how short he would be with some of the ada members. i could see him arguing with ranpo and dazai a lot. and possibly getting along with kunikida since he wouldn’t be an ass.

id like to see jouno and dazai talk normally though. their pasts parallel each other a good bit! i feel their conflicting morals would make them not particularly get along however it could make for some interesting interactions. i will go on about that in another post eventually

i feel like overall jouno would rather stick to tetchou as well as anyone who will treat him as a superior instead of the others.

as for tetchou. literally all i want is for him to mentor kenji. like they’re basically friends now, they’re similar in morals/principles, and are both very direct with everything they say/think. that combined with them having similar physical capabilities i could see tetchou training kenji well and taking on a mentor/older brother figure.

i also feel like kunikida would like tetchou. he’s very direct and i doubt he’s a disruption, they’d get along well.

in contrast i feel like junichiro would probably be intimidated by him. not sure why, just how i feel.

i also don’t think dazai would have much fun with him, since he probably isn’t easily bothered by the silly antics dazai likes to do.

unfortunately i don’t know how this would work if the hunting dogs require surgery to live still. jouno and tetchou would probably be fine since they’re still affiliated with law enforcement but tachihara would likely die. that’s a post for another time i suppose.

OH! and encountering tachihara. huge angst potential here that sounds really hard to do. i could see them trying to bring tachi back since he has proven himself to be good before? i don’t know if it would work but even tachi said before the hunting dogs weren’t bad either. he just needs a place to be himself

but anyways i really like this idea!!! i love imagining how the different characters would interact w/ each other :)

[mihai-florescu]

enstars analyses uhmmm i think we should spend more time talking about what dreams mean to characters ^^ it is In The Name. but i mostly think about how ritsu's issues with emotional dependency and wilfulness, all this stuff where he plays up his emotionality (??) are both result of and like an.. acting out of ... trauma from being u know. a chronically ill kid. with an absent family? and literally like two people who would visit him? and the isolation he would understandably feel; and the dependence he would have on those only points of connection--and he can't control those--i think it's interesting and i love ritsu. it's like, sometimes he acts like he chose to be how he is but a lot of it is out of his hands. hi i hope the rest of ur day goes well :>

Disclaimer post writing an answer, my mind drifted away while writing and i ended up just kinda Pondering and Rambling. Im sorry if it seems a bit scattered and all over the place, that's my mind rn. Ok, let's see what i actually said now.

Sometimes i think about how the war wouldnt have played out the same had rei never left ritsu to try to find doctors and cures for him (which led to breaking the promise of staying with ritsu that ultimately changed everything in their relationship forever). I wonder if rei would have ever even been in the cemetary and met keito had he just stayed to take care of ritsu. I also wonder if keito and rei would ever bond about having someone dear to them be sick. And had rei stayed, ritsu wouldnt have been upset and willing to give eichi advice on how to take him down. Would there had even been a war if Keito hadnt met Rei, or if the student council hadnt figured out how to send rei away. Would rei even be a protagonist if he hadnt left ritsu, if he had just stayed home in obscurity as well (i dont think so, and the story is built on the existence of these extraordinary characters, by the characters who arent, but are willing to make their way into the narrative nevertheless and achieve their dreams) One action's ripple effects etcetc.

Sorry i realise this was got way off topic from your original ask. I think i will continue to be off topic because i cant stop the train of thought ive embarked upon at this tardy post midnight time. I think eichi and ritsu are an underrated duo... they helped each other take steps towards their dreams afterall. During checkmate eichi giving a harsh wakeup call to ritsu in regard to being in his brother's shadow unless he does something himself to prove he's alive (top 10 eichi mean moments where he's also projecting onto the other person his own issues... not that he was wrong, but still). And in black tea, ritsu advising eichi on the war preparations during tea club (a serene setting in what was otherwise a hellish place, a piece of an everyday normal students life, which eichi craved so much his whole life. And ritsu also needed the club, interacting with new people, let alone another chronically ill kid).

Im thinking about your last sentence and how ritsu clung to the vampire persona the family adopted, the way to cope with the hereditary disability. As opposed to rei who changed his persona and struggled with the way he was perceived as a monster, when he was a human just as much as everyone else and tried to ignore his disability even? I dont think ignore is the best word. Downplay. It was always the acknowledgement that ritsu had it worse, despite the fact that rei also had it, he was looking for a cure for ritsu instead. First instance and development of his habit of helping people when they dont necessarily even ask for it. But yes anyway millions of tangents aside, ritsu clinging on to the vampire persona tighter and more consistently in his character, as a coping mechanism with a condition he didnt ask for, that is outside his hands. The one thing that was in his power was choosing to play into the vampire persona.

I havent even touched on mao... to be fair i dont think im the most qualified person to speak on him, or his relationship with ritsu. I am still figuring out my thoughts on them. Im glad they grew to find their own dreams in yumenosaki (heh), in the same realm, but not tied to each other where it gets suffocating.

I wouldnt call anything i said analysis as i wouldve probably ordered things better and had, well, an actual point, but i hope my stream of conciousness was as fun for you to read as it was for me to just think and type

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The first few pages read like journal entries]

"Day 1.

I have come across this small chest, which gives off very bad energy. As a studious person, I could not help myself, and opened it. After a few tests, I am well aware I am cursed, and have taken it upon myself to study the contents. I have found a small doll resembling myself inside, and it seems to whisper to me when I look at it. There's a few pins, and another doll, resembling my childhood friend. The one of me wants something from me. But I'm managing"

"Day 3.

I cracked. Only slightly. The doll wanted me to kill something. I kept down the urges but... it liked it. It was simply a rat. The doll has greatly changed in appearance, now grinning at me, holding a small dagger, resembling the one I was gifted by my friend. Speaking of. That doll has seemed to vanish." [The rest is scribbled out, with scratchy notes, and tears in the page]

"Day 15.

I feel unwell. I am ill, and hungry. Starving. The doll watches me, it's eyes follow me through the room, and it feels almost alive, squirming in my grip. I tried to lock it in the box, but it made me let it out. I don't know how much more I can take, it's angry. I'm not a violent man, I'm not a violent man." [The page repeats that over and over]

"Day 19.

I killed a kid* and ate it. The urged were too strong. I feel like an animal. I am locking myself in my home until further notice" *"I mean a young goat." [It clarified that in red ink]

"Day... whatever

I slept too much, time keeps passing but I struggle to keep track. No point in studying this anymore. If you're reading this, I'm sorry. It tries to talk t e, i hear it. It never stops talking. It's mad at me. It's so mad... I want it to forgive me. What can I do?"

>[The notebook continues in rather rambly pages... but there's several drawings, depicting a visibly angry doll, and shaky, bloody hands. The worst one depicts a man hunched over, needle in his back, pinning the doll onto him. He's contorted, teeth sharp. Blood and viscera scattered throughout the image. "IT WANTS ME" is written everywhere]

(î) > Completing the notepad, you stare at the hard cover. So. . . It has been a cursed passed down from host to host. And given ho there was no concluding notes on how to stop it, your heart sinks in fear. Now you finally grasp the severity of the situation at hand. As long as you're stuck here, you risk killing your brother.

(î) > Probably eating him, if the writer's misreading was corrected. You ponder to yourself for a moment on what to do. Killing your brother was not an option you were going to follow through, even if it killed you. But you also risk losing your brother as well if you forfeit your life now. You hate feeling trapped like this.

(î) > You decide to wait. . .

(î) > It's now night time in the complex, your brother is sleeping on his bed, keeping that filthy doll close to him. There's no point in harming it now. Moving to the bathroom, you pull out the stolen drawer key for the bottom lock. Quietly you unlock it to find the said doll and a pair of blood rusted scissors.

(î) > Nothing comes out of your lips as you pick up the two items and close it once more with your foot. Making your way to the large exit doors, you dress yourself to be a little more presentable, almost like before when you first arrive, minus your cream button up. Knocking come to the door, and immediately you force a smile.

> "Hey! It's you newbie! God, you took forever to answer. I was beginning to think you were dead in there or something! Hah!" > "Right. . . Sorry, it's been a long week." > "If it's alright with you, would you mind going out with us for drinks? We need to talk."

(î) > You're restricting as much of your facial expression as you can when 'he' talks. God looking at him makes you physically sick. It just reminds you of how much your brother dotes on this pathetic lump of meat in front of you.

> "I would kill for some beer right about now. Sure! Why not! Let's get going then. . !"

(î) > In truth, you're scare to do this alone. Normally you'd make Colleague do everything for you, but now that's not possible. Now you have a sense of responsibility. For once, you actually feel like a big brother, even though you and Nigel are the same age.

(î) > You suffered enough as is. Nigel doesn't need to see such a grusome end for you. If you're going to carry this curse, your going to die fighting it.

(î) > Even if it means abandoning your younger brother for his safety.

[lire-casander]

#36 feeling bad when the other is having a hard time

feeling bad when the other is having a hard time original prompt list here

Robert’s health is rapidly deteriorating. Everyone can see it, and now even his daughters are aware of it. Apparently, Owen’s brother had told them before their trip to attend the wedding, and they’d taken to the news quite well.

Probably, Carlos thinks, because they hadn't seen until that moment what Huntington’s disease does to a person.

It’s not just the deterioration of Robert’s physical condition — the tremors that are harder to hide and the difficulty in remembering certain things. It’s also that, some time along the way, and not that far from that very moment, Robert will cease to be himself, becoming instead a ghost of the man he once had been.

But the disease is also taking its toll on Robert’s family. In the short time he’s known her, Carlos can tell Sydney looks exhausted; it’s the caretaker curse, he thinks. The girls don’t seem to understand what the illness is doing to their father’s health to its full extent, but Carlos is sure they will soon enough. Although it’s not only the girls he’s worried about.

TK thinks he can hide his pain from Carlos, but he’s got a trained eye on soul battlefields. He can tell when TK’s hurting, and this is one of those times. They’ve talked a lot in the past few weeks, ever since they found out about the hereditary condition Owen’s estranged father had gifted them all with. Finding out both Owen and TK should have been a relief, but TK hadn’t really looked happy about it. Instead, Carlos has noticed that his fiancé doesn’t really finish his food anymore and that he fidgets much more than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks one night, the day before their last family dinner as fiancés.

“Talk about what?” TK answers without another question, raising one eyebrow at him.

“About what’s stressing you,” Carlos says, pointing at the way TK’s been pushing his vegetables around his plate. “And don’t tell me it’s wedding jitters. I know it’s deeper than that. I know you.”

TK takes a moment to himself, as though he’s pondering whether or not he can trust Carlos with whatever this is. And to Carlos’ utmost panic, he suddenly drops his fork and begins to cry.

It takes Carlos a second to stand up and rush to TK, pulling him into his warm embrace. “I’m here,” he whispers into TK’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

He rocks TK back and forth gently as his fiancé cries, TK’s tears wetting Carlos’ shirt where TK’s face is pressed against Carlos’ chest. It’s an almost unbearable feeling; Carlos’ heart breaks a little with each tear that TK sheds. He resorts to humming the song his mother always sang to him when he was a little kid and he was hurting, but not even that stops TK’s wails from echoing through the loft.

“I’m sorry,” TK hiccups. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“I think you do,” Carlos says softly, “but you’re scared to tell me.” When he feels, more than sees, TK nodding, he continues, “I’m here. I’m your soulmate, remember? You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just—I’m relieved that I won’t develop Huntington’s,” TK confesses. “But I’m so mad at myself because of that. Because my uncle is dying from it, and my cousins will have to grow up without a father, and he will never see them graduate from college, he will never walk them down the aisle, and they won’t be able to call him whenever they have a problem and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Carlos cuts him off. “Breathe, just breathe. “It’s okay to have conflicting feelings, baby. It’s a difficult situation.”

“I just think life’s so fucked up sometimes,” TK sniffles. “I’ve just found out I have extended family. Uncle Robert is so cool. And Aunt Sydney and the girls. Why do they have to go through it? I know what it’s like to lose a parent, I have a brother who’s growing up without his mother and it kills me. How am I supposed to be here tomorrow night and smile at them and act as though nothing bad’s happening when he’s dying? When he wants to die?”

“I know your father has told you this before,” Carlos says after a moment. He chooses his words carefully through his own pain. “But we all have a death sentence hanging over our heads. We’re not promised tomorrow. So we might as well enjoy life to its fullest while we can. That’s what your uncle is doing.”

“But he’s asked Dad—”

“We can’t judge his decision,” Carlos continues, ignoring TK’s attempt at interrupting. “I know you don’t like it, but we have to respect it. We can’t understand anyone until we’ve walked a mile in their shoes, TK. But I get it,” he says softly, holding TK closer and tighter. “You have every right to be upset.”

TK nods, sniffling heavily until his crying resumes; he grabs a handful of Carlos’ shirt in his fist and squeezes, grieving for what could have been and mourning for what will never be.

After what seems like an eternity, TK’s crying subsides; Carlos tries to move back to see TK’s face, but his fiancé holds on for dear life, his grip almost hurting him, so Carlos does the only thing he can think of.

He holds on right back to TK.

[charlie-fabray]

Charlie tried to take mental note of all the movies. "I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't even heard of any of those movies. I think I've been apparently living under a rock. Maybe I should get a list of recommendations from you. Or we could trade gardening lessons for movie afternoons." He laughed lightly. His expression turned even softer when Kyle spoke about the people he'd had to 'leave behind'. "You'll see them again. I'm sure of it. There are times in life when we have to be away from the people we love, but then you get to reconnect with them. I didn't see my brother for a few years before he came to school here. It's been amazing getting to know him as the men we've become from the boys we were. You know?" Kyle couldn't know it but questions like that awakened his garden nerd. "Oh yeah. Absolutely. In the case of a fruit tree it's called vernalization. The cold forces the tree to flower. There are other processes that are kickstarted by temperature and even the length of the day. It's fascinating." He covered his face. "Oh my God. Sorry. If I don't stop now I'll talk your ear off about acclimation and cold hardening all day." He considered Kyles pondering and had to agree. "I think they must. I mean I only know about being a submissive, but we all have uncertainties and it's such a life changing thing." Charlie nodded. "I can tell."

It was quite clear that the guy was very much overthinking all of this. He was moving his hand under his own, but it seemed so uncertain and unnatural. When he began to go soft, Charlie realized this was all very ill-advised. However he had to deal with it in a compassionate way. He had to make it ultimately a good experience. He gently tucked Kyle away as he put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh. You didn't ruin anything. This is how things go sometimes. You just got here and found a guy humping his hand in public. Kind of natural to have a reaction, but that doesn't mean something has to happen. I don't want you to overthink it, okay." He chuckled and moved his finger away before gently tapping his temple. "I can hear your gears moving." He laughed warmly. "Listen, you're just starting this journey and you're going to learn so much in the next couple of years. You have so much time to explore who you are and what you like. You're not supposed to know already." He chuckled. "You should have seen me when I first arrived." It was true, he was hopeless and he wasn't even nearly as sexually innocent. "Tell you what, how about we take a quick breath and then I'll show you the garden?"

“Yeah, I agree. But to answer your question, I recently saw The Beekeeper and I thought it was really good. There’s a few I really wanna see. I heard Abigail was good, even though the trailer looked kinda silly. I also heard good things about Lisa Frankenstein!” Kyle recalled. “That’s an interesting way to look at it. I can’t help missing those people, though, and think about them often, and like wish they were still here.” Kyle put a lot into friendships, so they meant a lot to him. It wasn’t easy for him to let them go. “I didn’t know warmer climates made it longer for fruit trees to grow. I imagined it would be the opposite.” Kyle did get the vibe that Ivan was a genuinely nice guy with a kind soul. He pondered Charlie’s words for a moment. “I wonder if that’s something everyone goes through with their first claim. Even the Doms.” He chuckled a bit. “I do that too, sometimes.” 

Kyle nodded at the instructions. Despite his reaction to the kiss, the young guy’s excitement was brewing inside him. He could have ‘me time’ almost three times in a day, so to have someone else doing it was going to be great. His eyes remained closed, as he felt his dick set free. Kyle’s smile showed his eagerness. When his hand was licked, he didn’t imagine it was for a specific reason. He just thought Charlie enjoyed licking hands or something, so he let it happen. Then suddenly, he felt his damp palm wrapped around his dick. All by the other’s motions. He opened his eyes then, just so he could see what he was feeling. He was slightly confused until Charlie spoke once again. “Okay.” He cleared his throat and nodded, moving his hand down slowly. The younger guy closed his eyes once again, keeping a slow, awkward motion in his wrist. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he was just jerking himself off, with another dude watching and touching him. Moreover, he was overthinking his technique. Is this how he usually did it? Didn’t he usually play with his balls too? Should he be doing that? Would that be weird? Ultimately, the overthinking started affecting his hardness. He opened his eyes once again to see himself softer than before. “I think I ruined the moment, didn’t I?”

[cherievol6]

hey, neighbour!

this isnt proof readddd. sorry if there’s mistakes and/or it’s bad. it moves kind of fast but i kind of like it tho. also just wanna say: AS IT WAS SUPREMACY. love you all, gonna go to sleep now, good night.

please like/reblog if you enjoy!!! 

harry is your insufferable, yet slightly hot neighbour.

word count: 2.8k (slay)

warnings: swearing, sexual references (not smut), illness (mild), Wicked slander, cuteness, more cuteness, ...thighs

.

Harry found you insufferable. He just did. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you blasted music too loud in your flat, or how loud he could hear you talk when he was sat by his Juliet balcony. Either way, he’d dread the moments when you’d leave your flat doors at the same time and share the same stinking look at each other, occasionally issuing your weekly complaints. It was a shame you were such a cow, he always thought, because he thought you were pretty. Like, really pretty. Almost too pretty, and he found himself having to stop wandering off in thoughts about you.

It was okay, though. You thought was Harry was a bit of a prick…an attractive prick, at that. You simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the evenings you’d reach your doors at the same time when you got a glimpse of his rugged-work-day look. Or when you’d catch him before his morning run, kitted out in short shorts and your favourite muscle tee of his.

You both wordlessly agreed to not mention the night you were coming home on a late and saw him getting handsy in the corridor with a leggy blonde. Although, you’d be lying if you didn’t try to picture his glossed over eyes and flushed cheeks sometimes when you were alone.

Sadly, his personality somehow cancelled out his attractiveness. You’d experienced the brunt of his bad moods just as much as his sly comments, specifically one morning last week.

“-I mean seriously, if you’re gonna rattle my fucking bedroom wall with your music, at least play something good.” Harry’s voice had filtered back into your daydream and your eyes re-focused, zeroing in on his frustrated expression and his hand white-knuckling his doorknob. You really worked this guy up, it was quite amusing.

“I have no choice, Styles. I mean, if you didn’t nearly break the plaster of the wall with your bed frame every night I wouldn’t have to,” you grinned, shoulder leant on your doorframe as you observed him, “that reminds me, tell your lady friend to keep her voice down next time.”

“That’s funny, I haven’t heard a peep from any visitors in your flat recently. Dry spell?” He mirrored your taunting smile, dimples poking out annoyingly.

He could dish it and take it, which was something that made your dynamic so good. Harry was chronically miserable, and you were looking for a bit of entertainment during the day.

Just to prove him wrong, you’d invited a guy from a club back to yours the night after to finally break said dry spell. Unfortunately, the guy had been obnoxiously vocal…almost too enthusiastic. The mood was ruined when Harry’s door slammed and you heard him sprinting out into the hallway before he banged on your door, screeching: “You’ve got to hear this. I think someone in the building is conducting an exorcism! Get up, you need to get out of there before the spirit inhabits your body too!”

Safe to say you weren’t ever seeing that guy again. And Harry had ammo indefinitely. You’d actually considered ending your lease early and moving out.

.

“So, how’s nightmare neighbour doing, still shagging anything with a pulse?”

You laugh loudly at your friend Saoirse, tapping the ash off your cigarette as you lean on the tiny railing of your balcony.

“Still the bane of my existence. Although I haven’t seen him in a while, I’m wondering if he’s away or something.” You ponder. You’re met with silence as you blow smoke into the muggy English air. You’re about to call your friend’s name when you hear her speak again.

“Oh my god. You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” You screech, prompting one of your neighbours to obnoxiously slam their window to make a point of your loudness. “I don’t like him at all, I’m just missing winding him up until he looks like a beetroot.”

“You miss him, hm? You mean you miss drooling over his ‘wonderful thighs’ as I so clearly remember you describing them last night.”

“Saoirse!” You scold, grabbing your phone and turning it off speaker, dropping your cigarette and traipsing back into your flat. Your friend cackles down the phone at your chagrin. Yes, you may have gone on a bit of a tangent about how Harry was a bit of eye candy, but had you said something about his thighs? You were a bottle of wine deep last night, so your memory was hazy. You act on the defensive, nonetheless.

You hadn’t seen Harry for nearly a week, and you were admittedly starting to grow slightly curious. You didn’t miss him; you were just nosy. At least that’s what you say to sleep at night. You didn’t see him outside stretching before his run; you didn’t see him coming back from a late night at the studio with a dark shadow around his jaw. He was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly you were finding your socked feet padding out into the hallway to investigate.

A parcel and a couple of letters lay abandoned on his doormat, and you were met with silence on the other side of his door as your ear pressed up to it. Maybe you were crossing some boundaries, but for the sake of your sanity, you held you ear there for a few more seconds. Your knuckles rap a few times on the door.

“Styles, ever heard of collecting your parcels? Nearly cracked my head open tripping over one this morning.” You jest, but no-one provides any answer on the other side. You knock again, getting impatient and also cold, and maybe also a tinge worried about his wellbeing. He would have swung his door open by now and cursed you away, so you knew something was up.

Taking a deep breath, you rattle the door handle with your hand gently, surprised to find it open, as it clicks and creaks inward to his flat. You’re met with a cold breeze and a soft light coming from what you assume is his living room, his flat laid out identical to yours.

“Styles? Harry? It’s-um. It’s me. Just wanted to check you’re alright?” You stammer, moving further into the flat until you hear a weak call of your name.

“I’m in here. Why the fuck are you in my flat?” His voice says scratchily. You pad down the hallway and find him sprawled on the sofa, blanket tucked all the way up to his chin and a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel placed diligently on his forehead. He looks as white as a sheet, and you think you can see his cheekbones even more.

“Thought you were dying. Clearly I was right.” You sigh, removing his makeshift ice pack and feeling his forehead, him immediately saying ‘piss off’ and trying to swat you away.

“Maybe I am dying. Maybe all of the physical and emotional toll of your presence has finally knocked me off my last legs.” He mutters, immediately shivering after the sentence and tugging the blanket even tighter around him. You frown.

“Definitely smells like you are in here. How long have you been trapped on the sofa?”

“Who knows. The days are blending. I think I can taste colours.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, marching into his kitchen and demanding he tell you where his medicine cabinet is. He simply replies that he doesn’t have one, and you have to refrain from telling him off for being so careless.

“So, you’ve been holed up for what you think is nearly 50 hours without taking any painkillers for your fever? Have you even been eating?” You scold.

“Does bread count? I’ve just been eating the slices out of the pack. I haven’t had chance to go and do a shop, you div.” He weakly manifests a crumpled pack of bread from the duvet over his body, and you stare at him agape.

You always envisioned the nights spent with your miserable neighbour would never go past the extent of a few snarky comments in the corridor and some volume-wars when you both played your music, but never did you expect to be standing over his bed-bound self trying to treat him for his fever. Here he was, trying his best to keep up his arsehole act in his worst state.

“Call me a div again and I’m out that door—”

“No! Please. God I can’t believe I want you here, I must be ill.”

“Okay! Bye, Harry…” You say saracastically and wander away; he weakly grabs your hand. You ignore the tingles shooting up your body. He pleads that you stay, and you agree, retrieving him some painkillers from your own flat and grabbing your period water bottle, gathering a few more supplies that you deem fit for his symptoms. He looks like a kid on Christmas when you bring him a Sports Drink and a sandwich, too, making a comment about how you were ‘turning soft’. You refuted this, “I just don’t want to be a suspect in your suspicious disappearance.”

From then on, things definitely simmer down between the two of you, and it’s shocking to say at the least. He stops scowling at you 24/7, and almost stops the comments everyday; it feels like you’re living in a simulation. Who was this Harry and what happened to the old one? One morning, he even offers you a cereal bar on his way out, claiming he didn’t want to eat right before a run. You decided to ignore the fact that he never usually has a cereal bar in hand in the past mornings you’d seen him.

“I think I broke him.” You say, swiping your bronzer brush across your face rapidly and glancing at the clock on your phone in the top left-hand corner. Saoirse’s face contorts into amusement over facetime at your comment.

“You’ve got him all sappy for you. A bottle of Lucozade and a hot water bottle is the way to a man’s heart apparently.”

“Oh, Sersh, you should have seen him. Looked like death warmed up, he did. Maybe the fever gave him amnesia, he’s forgotten that he doesn’t like me.”

“Or maybe he liked you this whole time and tried to hide it through angst and fake-hate.”

“You read too much modern romance, babe,” Your right hand props your phone against your desk as the left tugs your dress down to your mid-thigh. You crouch to fit into the Facetime screen, and Saoirse lets out a stream of praises and compliments, making your cheeks heat under your makeup. Someone you knew from home had texted saying he was in town, and to your surprise had invited you on a date after a bit of flirty back and forth. You felt like you deserved this, although a very tiny part of your brain couldn’t help but feel different.

“You look fit. God knows if you’ll make it to the restaurant.”

The irony of that statement sits comfortably on your shoulders an hour later when you’re still waiting outside of your building for him to come and pick you up in the pouring rain. Maybe he was in an accident, you thought, although people in accidents don’t usually have time to block your phone number and all of your socials.

You can’t help but feel slightly defeated as you clamber up the flights of stairs back to your flat, heels in hand and tears threatening to spill at your seemingly horrendous luck with men. And just to top it off, Harry is stood outside of his door leant against the door frame, checking his new post.

He never checked his post outside, you thought. You put the thought to the back of your head.

“Wow, you’re dressed up. What happened to you?” He says, a hint of a smirk creeping on to his face. You ignore him rifling through your small handbag for your key. He shuffles on his feet and clears his throat.

“You’re quiet.” He tries again, and you look up at the ceiling in frustration when your fingers conveniently cannot find your key. He mutters a ‘never mind’ and gathers all of his post in his hand, heading back into his flat. You let a little cry out thinking he’s gone, but he’s paused in his doorway, now looking very alarmed.

You sniffle, tears now streaking down your face rapidly. His breathing is staggered, and you can almost hear his brain whirring, before papers are dropped to the floor and a gentle hand is on your forearm. This makes you cry harder, and he tugs your arm over his shoulder, embracing you semi-awkwardly, but comforting, nonetheless. Your nose buries into his neck and you can smell his aftershave that usually coasts past you in the hallway; it’s woodsy yet homey.

“This is so embarrassing.” You wail. He laughs and you feel the sadness lighten from your chest.

“Maybe. So, who was this guy anyway?” Your ears think they pick up on a hint of jealousy in his tone.

“An utter prick. Probably drives a shit car and calls women Females anyway.”

“Damn, now that you mention it…I think I was supposed to pick up this Female for a date tonight. I hope she’s not waiting for me…she kind of seemed like a psycho anyway. The type that blasts the Wicked soundtrack at 3am.” You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of your mouth as you pull away and swat his chest, earning a proud grin from him at his joke.

“Maybe you dodged a bullet with that one.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He mumbles, swiping his thumb under your eyes. Your chest twists and sparks with giddiness at his implication.

“Why are we being so nice to each other now? it’s weird.” You frown, dropping your heels to the floor and leaning against your door. He takes a few steps forward.

“It is kind of strange. You just do that to me, I guess.” You’re shocked at his boldness. Forever you’d been in this weird in-between stage of enemies and friends, and now he was possibly implying that you had some kind of effect on him. It made your head spin.

The air feels slightly muggy as you close your eyes, feeling the heat of his body radiating to yours. He goes to speak, stepping slightly closer but you place your hand on his chest.

“Can I kiss you, Harry?” His cheeks redden and his eyes bulge. You tip your chin back and place your head against the door. You aren’t sure exactly where you wanted this to go, but you’d been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him for a long time and now felt better than ever. His arm presses into the door beside your head as he breathily mutters ‘please’, igniting you into action. Your hands grip his plush hips as you kiss him, all teeth and tongues, all hot and bothered. He whimpers, completely divulging in the searing kiss you were leading him through, and you could feel your body light up with heat almost everywhere. You stay like that for what feels like eternity, barely coming up for breaths as he now presses you flush against your door, hands wandering, breaths heavy.

“Fuck.” Is all he says once you both pull apart, barely, as Harry keeps his lips hovering a hair away from yours as his eyes dart all over your face. You smile, biting your lip to try and hide it and he grins back, fingers trailing over your collarbone.

“Glad that’s over, felt like kissing a fish.” You say, and he gapes, pinching your waist and attacking your neck with lovebites as you laugh loudly.

“Shut up. I think we should be more concerned about the fact that we’re neighbours. Neighbours who just snogged. And it was, like, really good.” He says breathlessly, hand carding through his floppy hair. You shrug.

“If you’re so concerned then lets just end our relations here, hm?” You tilt your head, patting him on the cheek and attempting to enter back into your flat. He makes noises of disapproval and drags you back, kissing you again.

“Nope. You’re not getting away that easily. Want to spend a little more time with you tonight.” His words make your stomach flutter, and you feel slightly warm. Your hand goes to tug at the curls on the back of his neck.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Hm. Not sure. I have some running shorts to wear for you…I’ve heard they’re a fan favourite because they show off my gorgeous thighs. Maybe a bit of the Wicked soundtrack—”

“Oh my God. You heard that?” Your voice is shameful and small as you try and hide your face in his neck once again. You hear his ‘mhm’ hum in his throat and you groan.

“I may have been sofa-bound and deathly ill, but I still had working ears and an open window, beautiful.” He winks. You groan again, face in hands.

“Are you put off now?” You sigh, rubbing your arm with your hand and looking at his nervously. He doesn’t respond verbally, kissing your mouth gently for the third time before lacing your hands together and guiding you towards his still-open flat door.

“Nothing can put me off. Kind of been into you from the day you moved in.”

[goldenlikedaylight013]

Glimpse of Us

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: im not good with summarys so ill not do one. read the a/n to understand the story better.

warnings:angst and not feeling loved

a/n: i am quite excited about this one even though is not as long as i wanted it to be. i love angst so much and after i read  @hey-kae ‘s fanfic called “secrets he’ll keep” (go check it, i cried a lot) i got extremely inspired to write. this is base on a joji’s song called “glimpse of us” bc that is some amazing music and i cant stop listening to it. also, im still learning how to write stories so please tell what you think so i can improve and english is not my first language so if you see any errors lmk :).

you and charles had been dating for a while now. you have been best friends since your teenage years. you really knew and cared about each other so, after the most awful breakup of your life, charles was the one to console you. that was also when he confessed his feelings for you, feelings that had been bottled up inside his chest ever since he met you and, after seeing you in such a painful state, he couldn't suppress those feelings anymore, he couldn't just sit there and wait for another jerk to break your heart again.

after that you found yourself in such a sensitive state that you just decided to receive his love and not fight against it. charles didn't know that. charles didn't have to know that.

it was not like you didn't love him, you indeed did, it was just a different kind of love and, after trying and trying, you just couldn't make yourself love him the way he loved you.

you were in his apartment, laying on the couch while he was in the kitchen grabbing a snack. this was a part of your routine now, going to his apartment so you wouldn't be left alone with your own thoughts but, here you were thinking about how you used to go to your ex boyfriend’s house just to be with him. charles never liked him, now you kind of know why. he used to say that he didn't deserve you, that  he was no good for you, and that was all true, you knew that but, still, you loved him.

charles sits beside you on the couch taking you out of your pondering. he smiles at you while coming closer. you give him your best fake smile but, that's not enough to fool him.after that you realize he backed off a little, not sitting as close to you as he usually does. “charles…” you start being immediately interrupted  by him “no, y/n. im not stupid, i know you dont love me” charles begins “i've tried to pretend that i don't see it, ive tried to pretend that you actually want to be with me but i cant keep fooling myself” he continues as tears start to stream down his face. you try to come closer to hug him but he just backs off “please don't do this to me, y/n. please stop pretending like you care about me when you're only thinking about yourself” now you are the one crying. the idea of hurting charles made you feel disgusted about yourself. “ i'm so sorry…” tears and more tears from the both of you “...i can't love you as you want me to…i truly don't know why and i can't change how i feel, i've tried and i've failed…im so sorry,charlie.” charles didn't stop you this time, he just sat there crying in silence. “i can't love anyone else,y/n i only love you” he said, breaking the silence. “charles…” “please, don't say anything else” after a moment of silence he stands up “would you like me to take you home?” he asks, not looking at you “yes, please” you say while trying to stop crying. after that nothing more is said. he drives you home, you leave the car and he goes back to his apartment. no goodbyes, no kisses, no hugs, no talking, just a painful silence and probably the last time you'll see each other. that was exactly what charles most feared, the end of you.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

chamomile, chapter eleven  

A/N: the gif in the moodboard is by @fightingdragonswithwho

summary: it's time for everyone's mandatory grief assessment. Y/n's doesn't turn out how she predicted...

warnings: references to 6x20, tw miscarriage, hospital, thinking that your symptoms are just an average illness, crying, blood, shock 

word count: 935

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You squinted, fumbling for a paper towel to dry off your face. Splashing it with cold water hadn’t really helped you feel better. You still felt like shit. Was it the flue? Maybe something you ate? Who knew. Right now you just needed to take it one moment at a time. Get through tonight and just tonight.

Crumbling up the paper towel, you tossed it in the bin on your way out of the bathroom. Walking into the dead quiet bullpen, you stopped when you saw Rossi walk out of Hotch’s office, having him swiftly follow after to bid the older man goodnight. 

Catching your eye, he waved you up and you followed, giving Rossi a tight-lipped smile as you passed him. 

“Have a seat,” Hotch motioned towards the dark couch in the corner of his office.

Once you were settled, he sat down in the chair opposite you, folding his fingers in his lap, “so, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you sighed, trying to ignore the light dizziness you felt now that you’d sat down. 

“Are you?”

“I mean, of course, it’s sad, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really feel like I have the right to truly feel, or express, that loss because I didn’t know her as long as you did. You all should have the space you deserve to grieve.”

“Just because you didn’t know her long doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to grieve her,” he leaned forward a bit.

“I know, I know, I just-,” your sentence was cut short as the soreness in your abdomen turned into a piercing pain. Hissing sharply, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried again, ”I, um, I,” you struggled.

“Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m-,” you slurred, breathing heavy, “I’m sorry, I think I’m coming down with something.”

Forcing your eyes to open once more, you saw your boss looking like he was either ready to call an ambulance or draw his gun. 

Supporting your weight on the armrest, you wrestled to stand up. 

Seeing Hotch’s eyes glide down your body as you stood, he got the same alarmed, yet calm face he always got when talking to a victim. 

“Y/n,” he reached out, ready to catch you if you fell, “you’re bleeding.”

“What? No, I’m fine, I’m-, really I’m fine,” you looked down at yourself and saw the crimson lines, staining your inner thighs, “I’m… I…”

“Y/n?” he called your attention and caught your hand, “you’re gonna be okay.”

“What? I am okay, I’m fine, I just…” 

“Y/n, please let me drive you to the hospital.”

“No, no, I’m fine, I- ouch,” your knees almost buckled at the sting of that one. Clutching onto your stomach, you pondered if you weren’t actually just sick. And getting your period out of the blue had never come with these symptoms. Just because you hadn’t had it for a hot minute didn’t mean you’d completely forgotten-… wait. When was the last time you’d gotten your period? Oh no… oh no.

Looking up into his eyes, his visage began to blur as tears started to well up and hinder your vision. “Hotch?” you whimpered. 

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Here,” the doctor passed you a small paper cup with a little white pill at the bottom of it, “this will help your body pass the tissue.”

You were numb. Still in pain, but you were completely numb. 

Not even thinking about it, you swallowed down the pill, washing it down with the icy cold water they had given you. 

“Again, I’m so sorry, but there was nothing to do. It started out like this.”

Looking down, you turned the small cup in your hand, then bend and crushed it lightly. 

Gently laying a hand right next to where your foot was swattled up in a scratchy blanket, the doctor hummed, “I’ll be right back with your discharge papers.”

Silently watching as they disappeared behind the curtain, it didn’t take long for it to be drawn again, this time it was your boss who poked his head in.

“Hi,” he gingerly stepped inside. 

Looking anywhere but his face, you slowly breathed out, “I didn’t know.”

Taking a seat in the small chair situated beside you, he didn’t say anything, just sat there.

“I didn’t know,” you echoed, lip quivering. “Sir, I think… I just need a few days. The doctor said that it would take a little bit of time before…”

“You take as much time as you need.”

Finally looking him in the eye, you felt a few tears roll down your cheek, “thank you.”

“Please, don’t thank me,” he laid his hand on top of yours, “Y/n, I am so sorry this happened to you. And if there’s anything I can do to help, anything at all, you just let me know.”

“Could you-, I don’t know how I’m gonna get home.”

“I’ll take you,” he squeezed your hand. 

“No, it’s already late and I live on the other side of town compared to you. You should get home to Jack-”

“Y/n,” he interrupted, “I’ll take you.”

Turning your hand so that your palm was against his, you sniffled shakily, “okay, okay, okay.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but is there someone you’d like me to call? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell him. He was your boss, you couldn’t tell him. Yet you couldn’t seem to answer him, you just sat there and bit your shaky lip.

Inhaling deeply, he looked down at your hand and breathed out, “okay,” nodding slowly.

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[reidsnose]

tally marks

overview: the team cant help but notice reader and spencer's obvious affections towards eachother, so they start keeping track.

genre: fluff

a/n: i think this is cute can u tell i love mutual pining lmaooo but yeah this is a short one sorry anyway lmk if you guys like it :)

masterlist

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everyone had their little thing that stayed on the jet. go bags come and go, hell, even agents come and go. but for their time being, everyone had a jet item that never left the plane.

for morgan it was his soundproof headphones. for hotch it was a very specific notebook. for you it was a small pillow that you adored. so on and so fourth

for spencer it was his blanket. his and only his because everyone has icky germs and a blanket lays all over someone when they sleep its a microscopic bloodbath. and he did not need any of that. he kept it on his unassigned assigned seat and would take it with him to sleep on the jets couch seat. so it really only ever touched him. it was his blanket that he never ever shared with anyone ever.

except for when he shared it with you.

one time, after a case that was particularly draining for you, he insisted you take the long seat on the jet so you could try and get some decent sleep. and you were out like a light but it looked to be a very uncomfortable slumber. your face was contorted with worry and your shoulders shook slightly every so minutes when a shiver would run down your spine. the jet was pretty cold and you looked like you could really use a comfy, warm blanket.

he pondered it for a second. did he mind your germs? no, not really. should he mind them? yes. but he doesn't. for whatever reason he would even be completely ok with you using him as your own personal blanket. he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of being so physically close to you.

wordlessly, and selectively oblivious to the confused stares he was receiving from the team, he walked over to you and draped the blanket across your body; pulling it up to reach your neck and ensure maximum warmth. after all, humans lose 90% of their body heat through their head and neck. immediately the shivering stopped. you snuggled it closer and he couldn't help but smile watching you quickly find peace and comfort.

jj nudged Emily who cocked an eyebrow at Derek who smirked at Rossi who tapped hotch and they all took a second to watch the scene unfolding at the front of the jet. they could tell Spencer was already smitten before he even figured it out himself. they had their suspicions for a while, and morgan now owes prentiss $5, because this act of affection was confirmation enough for all of them.

Spencer felt a warmth grow in his chest, something he really only felt when he was around you. or thinking of you. or talking to you. basically, having anything to do with you. so he stifled his smile and went back to his seat, opening up his book and trying to ignore the teams eyes boring into him.

when you were shaken awake you were warm and safe and everything smelled like Spencer. and then you recognized Spencer's blanket had been draped across your body and you were holding one of the corners close to your chest. smiling at the mere thought of spencer, you looked up and were met with a smirking Derek.

"come on pretty girl, you're the last one on the jet again," he chuckled, helping you up.

"you can go without me i need to grab my things," you yawned.

he nodded and walked off leaving you alone with Spencer's blanket. you folded it neatly before placing it on Spencer's usual unassigned assigned seat.

the next time you guys were heading home on the jet you could tell Spencer was visibly very tired. a perfect coincidence set up by God himself to help you repay him for letting you use his blanket. you watched him scrunch up his cardigan countless times trying to make it a pillow comfortable enough to sleep ok but it just was not working. though, it was adorable watching his curls bounce around with each movement of his head, you wished some peace would grace his features once again.

you simply couldn't watch him struggle anymore so you walked over to him, gently lifted his head, and placed the pillow beneath it. he looked up confused but when he saw it was you and realized what you were doing he gave you a smile that made you melt.

the team once again took notice of this and started keeping a track of you guys in hotch's notebook. anytime you two did something couple adjacent, a tally mark would be made and bets were even placed on how many tallies it would take for you guys to realize your feelings. Derek told Penelope about it when they landed (because she was originally the one who had been trying to set you two up together from the moment you walked into the bullpen) and she had to be lead into another room to squeal. she was given an update on the tallies after each flight and often gave her own observations when you were all in office.

and so, they watched as you gave each other the blanket and pillow, brought one another coffee, read to each other, left work together, listened to each others none sense ramblings, hugs lingered, hands touched, smiles radiated, eyes met. they were rooting for you nerds to finally realize you were in love.

after one case, you had gotten a little bit injured. nothing major, just a cut on your hand after tackling the unsub, but it was enough to make Spencer fret. it was dangerous, and you shouldn't have been there alone. it could have ended so badly. but he couldn't even be mad at you. so you sat next together on the jet, silent and thinking, just glad to be in each other's presence. Spencer saw your eyelids drooping, looking more adorable than ever to him. he took the blanket that was bunched up next to him and draped it over the both of you.

you smiled at him, taking the pillow from behind your head and handing it to him.

"no you were using this." he whispered.

"its ok ill use your arm instead." you sighed sleepily, snuggling into his arm.

the two of you were bright red and absolutely soaring from being this close. dopey smiles were etched on both of your faces.

"how many is this?" prentiss asked, looking expectedly at hotch.

"this would be number..." he scanned the pages in his notebook, "87"

"for a couple of profilers they sure are bad at seeing the signs," Rossi chuckled.

they looked over and watched as Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head before resting his own on it as you snuggled closer to it.

"make that 88."

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams

[messers-moony]

Moony Wants, Moony Gets | R.L

Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Moony has a natural wanting for his mate making his possessiveness visible the closer it gets to the full moon. 

He was always jealous. Blame it on the wolf in him, if you will, but Remus Lupin was highly possessive. Especially over what’s his - maybe not even what’s his but what he wants. She was gorgeous and his perfect mate—long tuffs of h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes that glittered in the limelight. There was one problem with her, though—one major flaw in her mess of perfection. 

Y/n L/n, cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and charismatic. 

That was the problem. Y/n was a Slytherin, and Remus was a half-blood Gryffindor. To make matters worse, her closest friend was Regulus Black - Sirius Blacks brother. Remus’ best friend's brother. But Remus couldn’t help it. Her voice was like a siren's call, and her beauty was a rival to Aphrodite, but she had the wisdom of Athena. Y/n was a perfect balance of everything. 

Closer to the full moon, his possessiveness became more of a problem. Sirius was noticing the low growl that would erupt from Remus whenever someone stepped close to Y/n. James saw the lingering glares left on any male within a six feet distance of her. Even Peter observed his green eyes turn a shade darker as if someone mixed black paint into his usually bright eyes. 

Y/n sat at the Slytherin table, a cup of coffee beside her as she spoke intently with Regulus. Meanwhile, a Gryffindor across the Great Hall was glaring daggers at the younger Black brother's head. Sirius nudged him, grabbing his attention. 

“Mate, you’re growling again.” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ cheeks turned pink, “Am not.”

James gave an unconvincing grin, “Mhm, totally.”

“I was not growling.”

“I think you were.” James replied, “Definitely was.” Sirius added. 

Remus sighed, pushing his plate away to lay his head on the table, “What’s got Moony all wound up?” James queried, Remus, deadpanned looking at the laughing girl across the room. 

“I think I know.” Sirius simpered, “Do you now? Don’t be a tosser.” James stated teasingly. 

“Turn around. Slytherin, talking with Reggie.” 

He turned and looked back at Remus with his jaw dropped, “No- fucking- way.”

“What?”

“She’s the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, you tosser!” 

“Oh…”

James snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

“Looks like Moony found his mate.” Sirius winked, and Remus groaned, “Shut up about it, will you?”

“Never.” 

It felt weird. James wouldn’t shut up about how brilliant Y/n was, how the Slytherin’s Quidditch team was able to make plays that no one else would’ve even thought about. Sirius wouldn’t stop offering to talk to Regulus to see if maybe he had any intel on her. Strangely enough, Peter was silent but had a guilty look on his face. Guilty sufficient for Remus to comment. 

“Why do you look guilty, Wormtail?” Remus inquired, and Peter's cheeks flushed pink, “She- Y/n isn’t- um….” 

“What do you know that we don’t, Peter?” Sirius queried, his voice harsh, “She isn’t what you think. That’s all I’m saying.” Peter stammered out nervously. 

James tilted his head at the blue-eyed boy, “And you know this how?” 

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Woah! Hold on a second!” Sirius exclaimed in shock, “When did this happen?!”

“Back in fourth year.” Peter informed, “She seemed nice enough until you start to get serious with her. Y/n’s sharp-tongued and extremely ill-tempered.” 

Sirius sniggered, “Sounds like Moony.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

“So, what does this mean for Remus?” James questioned further, “It doesn’t mean anything. Just be careful. I don’t care if you date her. Means nothing to me.” Peter replied, putting his hands up in innocent. 

Remus stared at Peter with curiosity swirling. How much did he truly know about Y/n? How did he manage to date her? Nonetheless, it didn’t mean anything to Remus because Moony wanted her. What Moony wants is what Moony gets. Later that evening, after prefect patrol, he padded into the library to dismiss any working students. But there were only two students inside. They sat in a secluded corner of the library. Regulus Black and Y/n L/n. 

Was it envy? Was it jealousy? He didn’t have time to ponder. Y/n had her head laid on Regulus’ shoulder and both her arms wrapped around his one arm. Regulus had leaned his head on top of hers, wavy black hair intertwined with her h/c hair. Both their eyes were closed, apparent they were asleep—potion and Transfiguration books placed on top of the wooden table along with an open sketchbook. 

What was he supposed to do in this situation? Wake them up? If it was just Y/n, perhaps he could’ve, but Regulus was with her, and Regulus wasn’t too fond of Remus for being friends with his older brother. Madam Pince had already left for the night, either choosing not to disturb them or didn’t notice them. Remus saw the inkpot beside the Potions book, almost empty. It was Y/n’s inkpot because the ink wasn’t black. It was a deep grape color. 

Remus sighed and grabbed the ink from his bag, charming it the same color. Discretely he took hers and swapped it out with his. Leaving a piece of parchment on top. Remus left the library without another word. Waking them up was a risk he’d rather not take. But now, he laid in his bed wondering how she’d feel about the new ink on the table. 

The sun began to rise, and Y/n’s body felt stiff. Carefully she began to stir awake after noticing a body beside her. Opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry, but after blinking a few times, she recognized the library books and the person's scent beside her. Regulus, her best friend. Y/n yawned and pulled away from him, about to begin packing their belongings, but she noticed a piece of parchment that lay on top of her ink. 

“Noticed you were out. You can have mine.“ 

Y/n hummed appreciatively. She didn’t know who gave her their ink, but she was eternally grateful for them saving her a trip to Hogsmeade. Y/n poked at Regulus’ right side, and he eventually stirred awake. His curls disheveled and his body just as stiff as she was. Regulus opened his eyes and met her e/c ones. 

“Did we fall asleep?” He groaned, and Y/n scoffed, “What do you think, dingus?”

“No need to be mean this early in the morning, Merlin.” 

“Someone saw us last night, though.” Y/n stated, and Regulus noticeably jumped, “Who?”

She shrugged, “Not sure, but they left me a new pot of ink.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Both best friends cleared their table. Y/n put her Potions books away, and Regulus put his Transfiguration books away. Y/n stared at the writing on the parchment she had received earlier that day. The handwriting was almost unrecognizable. It was messy and sprawled. Whoever this was did not have good handwriting or was in a rush. But the day carried on. In Potions, Y/n sat in the front while the Marauders sat in the back. Remus stared holes in the back of Y/n’s head. 

“She’s gonna notice if you keep staring at her like that.” Sirius muttered. 

Remus sighed and continued to write his notes. If he tried hard enough, he could make out her elegant purple ink from here. It always baffled him why she chose purple over traditional black - suppose it wasn’t really any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The familiar sketchbook sat on top of the desk as well; he could see doodles in the same deep purple color. Occasionally Regulus - who sat beside her - would nudge her to pay attention, gaining an annoyed groan. 

Potions class always smelt weird. It was a mixture of glue, seaweed, and salt. It was also constantly humid. It brought shivers down Remus’ spine. He noticed it doing the same to the Slytherin girl at the front. Remus craved nothing more than to wrap his robe around her, but he was too late. Regulus was already doing the action, which earned him one of her jaw-dropping smiles. Unconsciously he began growling again. This time, James smacked his arm. 

“Mate!” 

“Sorry…” 

Dinner was even worse. Y/n had yet to remove Regulus’ robes leaving him in a button-down white shirt and the usual uniform. Sirius was surprised at his younger brother's chivalry but didn’t speak much. The full moon was that night, and as dinner progressed, Remus only gained more possessive. James and Sirius gave up on trying to scold him. It was apparent Moony wanted - no - needed her. Slytherin captain be damned, Y/n was going to be Moonys. 

A dry winter night. As usual, Remus walked to the Whomping Willow with his three friends following him. Tonight was normal in the sense of his friends turning into their animagus,’ but the odd thing was letting him out of the shack. The werewolf and the dog ran around the forest together. The rat and stag lagging behind, allowing the two animals to play together. But a stick-breaking brought the attention of the werewolves to the new person. 

He could smell them. Hear their blood running through their veins. Their heart pounding at a standard rate. The dogs barking could be heard, trying to distract the werewolf. The scent was female, and she wasn’t scared. Instead, the girl approached with confidence sticking out her hand to the wolf. Padfoot barked loudly. Prongs backed down, looking nervous. Wormtail squeaked loudly. But she came with confidence and assurance. 

Moony growled, “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She cooed, “You’re safe with me.”

The h/c haired girl knelt on the grass, “No need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Moony hesitantly put his snout in the girl's palm, making her grin. His fur was soft to the touch, and his eyes turned soft. Her smile was beautiful, and Moony nuzzled his hand into her soft palm. She chuckled and patted him more. Padfoot barked excitedly and ran to her, but the werewolf started to bare his teeth again. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m yours.” 

The wolf seemed to calm down at her words allowing Padfoot to approach her. Smiling brightly, she pet both animals, “It’s okay, love.”

“My name’s Y/n. I didn’t know that there was a werewolf here.” Y/n greeted as Moony curled up beside her, his head on her thigh, Padfoot doing the same on the other side.

She caught sight of the other two animals and whistled for their attention, “C’mere.”

Prongs and Wormtail approached nervously, but Moony gave no sense of protectiveness. Y/n’s words resonated in his head over and over again, “I’m yours.” The wolf fell asleep beside her, Padfoot doing the same. Prongs approached, and Y/n patted the top of his head. Wormtail sat in front of her knee. They seemed at peace. It was the first time Moony ever felt at ease. They’d be lying if it didn’t make them happy. 

Y/n stayed up all night with the animals. Despite the animals not knowing, Y/n knew that the stag, rat, and dog were animagus’. The werewolf was unknown to her. The following morning when the stag turning into James, rat into Peter, dog into Sirius. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find out who the werewolf was. When he turned back into a human with his clothes tattered. Y/n continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slept. 

“Morning, Marauders,” Y/n commented. 

“You’re- you-“ James stuttered.

She laughed, “Apparently, your moony really likes me.”

“Would you mind petting me again?” Sirius teased, “Maybe.” Y/n retorted, winking. 

Sirius laid down on her other thigh that Remus wasn’t laying on, smiling; she ran her fingers through their hair, “You’re a godsend, lemme tell you.”

James and Peter sat in front of Y/n, “What made you want to take a walk in the forbidden forest last night?”

“Just wanted some air.” Y/n answered. 

Remus groaned and began pushing his head onto Y/n’s hand, “Morning, Remus.”

The Marauders and Y/n had never seen him jump up that fast, “What- you- I- uh-“

“Didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

“I- uh…”

“Sirius, for the love of God, get off her lap.” James interject, slapping the boy on the head playfully, “But it feels so good.” Sirius drawled. 

James grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the grass. In the process, Sirius got a mouthful of dirt and grass, “You wanker.”

“Did I- erm- hurt you?” Remus questioned shyly, “Nope, I'm completely unscathed.” Y/n smiled reassuringly. 

Remus turned to his friends, “Nope! Y/n saved us all.”

“Are you hurt?” Y/n inquired to Remus, who took a quick look at himself, “I- I don’t believe so….”

Sirius blew a raspberry, “Thank Merlin! Dragging you to the hospital wing is bloody exhausting.”

Silence filled the forest until Sirius smirked, “You know, mate when you were talking about Moony wanting her. I thought you were joking. Turns out you weren’t.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, Merlin…”

Y/n chuckled, “Well, Moony is rather cute if I’m honest.”

Remus’ cheeks blasted with pink, and Sirius laughed. James shook his head with a big grin, and Peter looked amused with Y/n’s confession. Without hesitation, Y/n leaned over to kiss Remus’ cheek, making him hide his face flustered. She stood up and ruffled Sirius’ hand, gently rubbing her nails across his scalp, making Sirius try to lean into her palm. They all stared at her except for Remus, who was equally embarrassed and flustered. 

“If you’re looking for a fifth Marauder, I know the Slytherin common room password.” Y/n winked as she walked to the castle. 

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.