#their face puts people off guard (which ironic since it's covered)

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hello! How was your day? I hope it's been good.

Could I request Zhongli, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley finding out their lover had been gushing over them to random people?

Zhongli, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley x gushing!reader

Zhongli

The ex-archon as usual goes for his daily work break for lunch and tea where Iron Tongue Tian told stories, sitting down and looking around to see one of the staff talking excitedly with another couple of patrons before seeing him. They seemed to light up upon seeing him and bid goodbye to the others, coming over to him and clapping their hands together. “So you’re the handsome man that Name’s been gushing about. Zhongli isn’t it? I’ve seen you around here often.” they said with a smile and noted down his order, waving their hands and assuring him they knew it was usual.

This was news to him. He hadn’t suspected that there’d be any reason for them to gush about him since to him it seemed it should be the opposite. “Hm, I have to say this is the first time I have heard this. “ he said and thoughtfully hummed. Color him intrigued. “Why don’t you sit here with me and have some tea as well? I would very much like to discuss more about what Name says about me,” he said with a smile and if someone looked close enough they could see the slyness behind it.

The worker immediately smiled and nodded, rushing off to get his tea and what he assumed was theirs as well. “Well, I can assure you they’ve never said anything but good things. If anything I’m not sure I have heard anything but praises and compliments about how great of a lover you are. They always talk about how kind and caring you are whenever they’re uncomfortable or feeling down. Another thing they really gush about besides how in their words you’re “sculpted like an archon attractive figure” is how you actually listen to them and hear what they have to say.” he was unfortunately surprised when they emphasized that he actually listened to them which must’ve meant that others didn’t in the past.

Zhongli was aware that some men weren’t the best but he didn’t think it was that bad and if Name hadn’t mentioned it then he wasn’t one to bring it up since he trusted them to come to him with any issues. It was comedically ironic that his lover had said he was handsome like he was made by the gods but he suspected that it was a cover partially for keeping his ex-divine status. Nevertheless, this was great information that he’d found out and he would let you bring it up if you chose to or more likely if they brought it up to you.

Neuvillette

Everyone knows that the melusines see Neuvillette as a sort of father and so when you both started dating or “courting” as your boyfriend put it the adorable group of beings started thinking of you as their mom of sorts. Since they were guards and workers scattered around the city of Fontaine, greeting you whenever they’d see you and having small chats. Many of which you’d gush and rave about all the great things about your boyfriend and how he was so sweet and caring.

Word travels fast but it travels faster among the melusines so when Neuvillette walked the Palais Mermonia to overview a big court case coming up he was welcomed by a joyful group of melusines who started talking all at once. He could roughly understand parts of what they were saying and how they were talking about his partner. “Slow down, slow down. Let’s go to my office first,” he said and ushered them all in, closing the doors and thankful they could talk about this in private. “Now, what is it that you want to tell me?” he asked and sighed tiredly. It was already 10 in the morning and already there was something urgently needing his attention.

Canotila came up to him with her hands clasped together and a wide happy smile on her face. “We are just so happy to hear that Name loves you so much! We knew you were such a kind and devoted person to both Fontaine and its people but we didn’t know how caring you really were. It’s truly admirable Monsieur Neuvillette!” she gushed and joined several others to say affirmations of what Canotila had said. The Iudex knew his lover loved every part of him even the parts he was reluctant to share with them but he hadn’t known they had been gushing about how great of a boyfriend he was.

To be completely honest seeing Neuvillette display any strong emotional expression was rare and the bright red blush spreading over his cheeks was a treat to see. He was extremely touched that you praised him to others for what you adored about him. He would talk to you later to possibly not tell others and strangers about the more intimate details of your relationship because of a few reasons.

Wriothesley

To some of the veteran residents, it wasn’t a surprise to hear that the Duke Wriothesley had a lover and there were very rare times when he’d freely be able to visit you as often as he’d like but you’d often come to the prison when you both wanted to spend time together and couldn’t wait. So the guards knew you well as well as the senior residents and greeted you in addition to also making sure no one else fucked with you if they saw you since you never treated them anything but kindness.

So it wasn’t surprising when one of the guards informed him that one of the prisoners he was particularly close to asked to speak to him and came in with a smile. “I’m letting ya know that your lover is here but I think you wanna hear when I overhead them telling one of the guards,” he said and waited for Wriothesley to let him continue if he wished which he did. “Well, seems like you’re quite the 5-star boyfriend which doesn’t surprise me since I’ve known you since you were once in here but Name wasn’t it?” he clarified and continued.

“They kept going on and on about how well you remember all of their favorite things even the littlest details like how they like their tea or favorite dessert. I feel like it’s not a surprise to hear that another major part of what I heard was about them going on and on about how doting and loyal you are not to mention how attractive you and your personality are.” he hummed with an amused smile and held his hands up, getting up and saying his goodbyes to the Duke.

[jade-efflorescence]

☕️ tell us more about your thoughts on twiyor? 🥰❤️

so glad you asked about this <33 twiyor was the first of my otps i publicly put out content for so they have an extra special place in my heart!

i absolutely love how right from the start, their relationship has been filled with a sort of refreshing uncertainty. twilight is caught off guard by everything yor is and isn't. he fully expects their dynamic to be strictly business, and yet her genuine kindness and fierce love for their little family opens up a part of him he always thought was burned away by the horrors of war and espionage. ironically in being so dedicated to the role of "family man," twilight offers himself more room to see yor as her own self and not solely a risk or pawn. he still has a long way to go before he can truly admit he cares for her, but his recent actions and thoughts viewing yor as more than part of his mission is a step in the right direction.

yor in turn encourages twilight as she gains strength from his words, caring for him deeper than she knows herself. in a way, they understand each other more than anyone else. they have both given up large parts of their life for others, haunted by the ghosts of their and others' pasts. they are both morally gray, and can be seen struggling under the weight of that: especially as being a forger brings them face to face with a future they feel they do not deserve to live. at their cores, they are broken, flawed people who put the idealized peace of others ahead of themselves. throughout all this, they find a steady bond in each other which i'm sure will be explored even more in the future.

some songs that remind me of them:

amazing and pluto projector by rex orange county (both from twilight's pov!)

must be love by laufey (this one is definitely from yor's pov! everything that laufey comes out with can remind me of twiyor honestly <33)

the best is yet to come by frank sinatra, covered by matt dusk (this little piece fits the 1920s aesthetic of the series perfectly, i could definitely see them dancing to this in their kitchen post reveal)

first time by lifehouse (@ari_gateau on ao3 first recommended this on the wise hq discord, and i haven't been able to get it out of my head since)

you are in love by taylor swift (this one is SO self explanatory it's not even funny XD)

thank you again for the ask!

[rendevousz]

freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

-

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

-

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

-

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

-

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

-

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

-

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg

[loousir]

[Oni] Stealing a Prince

Pirate Oni Male x Male Reader

Warnings: Smoochin, some desk pinning, the smallest sliver of booty grabbing, prince thieves, nothing bad really

Takumi

Masterlist

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

Ugh... What..?

Where am I?

Panic suddenly coarsed through your body as you got up from what you assumed to be a bed. The blankets fell to the floor and you quickly looked around the room.

Wood everything...

Circle windows...

Blue outside the window...

Wait blue outside the window?!

You quickly went over to the window, nearly tripping on the blanket as you did.

"Blue outside the window..."

The door suddenly flung open. To reveal a slim man wearing loose, slightly torn clothes. "So ya are awake!" You glared at him. "Who the hell are you. And why am I here?" The man laughs. "Boss likes em' fistey!" He grabs you by the wrist and drags out out of the room.

"Hey! Let-go of me!" You tried to get out of his grasp but for being so thin he was WAY stronger than he looked. Once he pulled you out of the room, several eyes were staring at you. He still held on to your wrist when another crew member went and knocked on a door.

You still tried to get out of the man's grasp and away from prying eyes. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal a tall and sturdy yet slim man wearing all black. He adorned a pure black pirate captains hat with a large black feather. You couldn't see his face at all and any skin was covered. You glared at the man and finally ripped your hand away from the one that held you, gently rubbing your sore wrist.

"Now now, Fisher, that's no way to treat our royal guest." He said, scolding who you would assume was the one holding on to you.

Why does he seem familiar...

That question was quickly answered. When he looked up to you. His golden eyes along with his cheeky smirk against that red skin of his. "Its been a while hasn't it?" You glared harshly at him. "Takumi..!" You ran over to him and practically jumped onto him, hugging him tightly.

He laughed and hugged you back, spinning you slightly. "I've missed you so damn much Takumi." You pulled back and looked up to his eyes. He smiled and looked to yours as well. "Sorry I didn't send a letter in advance. But I did promise I would steal you away." You shook your head slightly and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face.

Takumi removed his gloves and rested one of his hands on your cheek to which you leaned in to. Suddenly, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to look you in the eyes. "You stole me from the castle in the middle of the night." He smiles and rubs the back of his head. "I ah, may... Have?" You pushed him away and took a few steps away. "You fucking stole me in the middle of the night Takumi!?"

You looked back to him and he nods. "Well, I can't break promises... And plus your a heavy sleeper. You didn't wake up at all..." He mumbled out. A cough caught both yours and his attention, making both of you realize that his crew had just watched all that happened. You went over to Takumi and hid your face in his chest before he began explaining.

---

After the short while that Takumi had explained the situation, the crew seemed to understand the situation they were in. "Takumi, can we talk in private?" Takumi nods and gently grabs your hand, taking you to the door he emerged from not too long ago. He closed the door and turned around to you sitting on his desk, facing him.

"Do you understand how much trouble we will be in when that sun comes up fully?" Takumi sighs and takes his hat off, setting it on a hat stand. His mid sized horns that were the same colour as his skin stood out against his short back hair. He took of his other glove as he continued to walk over to the desk. "I know full well how much trouble we'll be in my Prince." He sets both of his gloves down on the desk next to you before pinning you to the desk.

He had you between his arms as he leaned into you. "But I am fully prepared to take on the challenge of running from your naval fleet for years." He smiled and looked to your eyes. "Plus it helps I have someone oh so familiar with them." You smiled as well and pulled him into a kiss. He pressed himself into you and placed a hand on the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth slightly as he grind his knee against you. Both of you pulled away for a moment of air.

"Takumi..."

He smiled and licked his lips. "I missed you so much. Ever since that day you helped me I've been falling deeper and deeper in love with you." He sighed and presses his face into the crook of your neck. "I can believe how much both of us have changed since our last meeting." Takumi breathed in your scent for a moment before kissing at your neck. "You have no clue how long I've waited for this. For us to finally be together. I know I might sound crazy but, I'm just so happy."

You smiled and hugged his head to your neck. "Takumi. I've never experienced someone like you." He pulls away to look at you with confusion, your hands rested wrapped around his neck. "Not in a bad way. I just... Love how different you are from everyone I've ever met. You captivated me the second I heard about you. Thank gods that guard couldn't keep his mouth shut around me. If it wasn't for him we never would of met."

---When They First Met--- (Past)

"Oh man, did you hear about that pirate kid that got caught trying to steal from the castle? What a wack! Who the hell in their right mind would try to steal from this place!"

"Idiot! Keep it down, you aren't supposed to be this loud in the middle of the night! Especially in front of the Prince's room..."

You heard the conversation from the other side of the door, you were about to sneak out anyway to go watch the night festival but this pirate kid seemed so much more, fun.

With a roll of your eyes, you checked the halls to make sure there was no surprise patrols before making your way down to the prison cells. There was a guard at the door but he was sleeping. You carefully snuck past him and looked around the cells for the pirate kid. You almost instantly noticed him. "Woah..." He looked up to you with scared yet fierce eyes. "What the hell do you want." His tongue was sharp. You didn't say anything and kept walking towards the cell he was in.

"Y-you're an Oni, right?" His eyes widened slightly before glaring. "Yeah? So what about it." You shook your head and leaned against the bars. "I've just... You're so... Woah..." He rolled his eyes again. "Is that all you can say? If you want to punish me or whatever then just do-" "No!" You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth and looked to the guard to see if they woke but fortunately they didn't. "Sorry I-" You looked back over to him to see he looked a bit shocked.

"I'm actually not supposed to be down here but when I heard that there was a pirate boy in our otherwise empty prison I was shocked. You have a lot of guts trying to steal from my family." His eyes widened and he crawled over to the iron bars. "Your family?!" You nodded. "Yeah. I'm the Prince." His jaw hung slack at your comment. You reached through the bars and closed his mouth. You could feel his face getting hot before pulling your hand away.

"As someone who had experienced it, having a fly land in your mouth is disgusting." His hand went to cover his mouth as he looked away. There was a moment of silence between you two when you decided to be a bit more ballsy than usual tonight. "Do you wanna go see the festival with me?" He looked back at you with eyes as wide as saucers. "And I promise I won't bring you back here once we're done. They won't ever know it was me who did it either. The guard will probably get punished but he's a... Uh..."

"A bitch?"

"Does that mean really rude, mean, and incredibly annoying?"

"Yes."

"Then y-yeah... A, b-bitch..."

The Oni boy smiled and you quietly snuck over to where the keys hung and found the one to unlock his cell. "Did I say a bad word?" You asked looking up to him. His face was shrouded in the moonlight, letting you see his bright golden eyes. "Words are only bad because people say they are. Bitch is a bAd WoRd." He said with a smile. You smiled as well and carefully grabbed his hand, leading him to put the keys back before whispering, "Stay close to me, ok?"

That night the two of you watched the festival in town with all the performers, lights, and just over all merriment.

"What's your name?" You asked, looking away from the fireworks to your new found companion. "Takumi." He said, looking to you as well with a smile. "I know you know my name but. I just want you to know me as (Y/n). Nothing more nothing less." Takumi smiled even more and tackled you into a hug, both of you giggling like school girls. Takumi pulled away and was hovering over you.

"Let's meet up here every festival." He said to you. "And I'll just say this now cause I know there will be one day when I stop showing up but... I promise I'll steal you away, and make you my co-captain."

---Present Time---

Takumi smiled and picked you up, holding just under your ass. He took you down a small set of stairs into a decently sized room. He laid you down on the bed before hovering over you. "Hey." He said, looking down into your (e/c) eyes. "Hi." You responded while putting a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing it with your thumb. You sighed and closed your eyes, getting comfortable in the bed before pulling Takumi down on top of you.

"Let's take a nap. I'm tired."

----- 1778 Maybe part 2

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 13: An Understatement

Warnings: blaster fire and descriptions of battle, mentions of injuries, Mando gets pretty hurt and the reader is a wreck (as usual)

Author’s Note: Enjoy Chapter 13!

Mando’s POV

All Mando could think about was you.

Did you protect the child? There’s no way you leaked their info to the Empire and betrayed them, right? Were you dead?

Somehow, the third option scared him the most.

As if this could not get any worse, Moff Gideon opened his mouth yet again.

“I have just received word that you seem to have a very valuable asset on your side,” he said, and Mando knew exactly what he was getting at.

He was referring to you.

Mando’s mind raced a million miles a minute. The Empire were after you, and they had to know you had the child with them. You could hold your own, he knew that, but against an entire regime of soldiers?

Mando knew you would rather die than get the child caught, he would do the same thing, but he wanted you alive. That’s all he wanted.

“It’s ironic, really,” Moff continued. “You put your trust in the Empire to get away from the Empire.”

Moff Gideon could insult Mando all he wanted. He could insult his religion, his creed, his past, but something about him referring to you as “the Empire” when you had worked so hard to get away from it rubbed him in all the wrong ways.

You had helped Mando start to put his violent ways aside, but you weren’t here now, and Mando wanted to kill the Moff where he stood.

“It’s time you face the fact that she will return to where she belongs. My side. I hope her betrayal does not hurt your feelings too bad,” Moff said, and Cara scoffed.

Mando’s last button had been pushed.

“She didn’t betray us, Cara,” he said sternly, and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re on her side? The Empire’s side?,” she responded, and Mando tried to keep his cool.

It wasn’t really working.

“We are on the same side,” Mando snapped back. “It’s time you realized that.”

You would not betray him. If you were any other person in the galaxy, Mando would start to give up now. But you showed him, in the very brief time you were together, that even people with the worst pasts can still have good hearts.

You made him feel like an idiot. Like a joke. He hadn’t genuinely cared for a person since his parents, but then the kid came along, and then you came along. It’s like the galaxy was showing him perfect prizes, but the game was impossible to win.

But the very worst part of it all, was that Mando was willing to try.

What had you done to him?

Your POV

To say this day did not go as planned was an understatement.

One second you are running for your life, the next you are being scooped up by a metal hand. It happened so fast you barely even had time to register you were lifted off the ground and placed onto a speeder bike.

Once you finally did register what had happened, you immediately thought it was the Empire’s doing, so you turned around and aimed your longspear at the driver.

“Please don’t,” the droid responded. “Me being dead would make this much worse for you.”

The nurse droid, you thought to yourself. From Kuiil’s house!

You were in such a haze of mourning and sadness those couple of days, you barely remembered meeting the droid. You even forgot it rode on the ship to this planet!

You relaxed a bit and lowered your longspear, smiling internally at the thought that a piece of Kuiil was still alive, but you didn’t put your guard down.

You hadn’t put your guard down in days, so it’s not like your overall body language changed that much.

You made sure the child was ok, and once your head finally cleared, you realized Mando was trying to reach you again.

“Kuiil, Y/N, somebody come in.”

The droid picked up the comm device before you could get it, and responded in a very monotoned voice.

“Kuiil has been terminated.”

That ought to make Mando feel better, won’t it, you thought to yourself.

You were going to take the comm device out of the droid’s hand, but you froze when you heard Mando’s tone of voice speaking through the comms again.

“What did you do?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the venom dripping from his mouth.

It always surprised you how scary Mando could really be when he tried.

“I am fulfilling my basic function,” the droid responded.

“Which is?” Mando asked.

“To nourish and protect.”

With that statement, the droid sped up the bike, and you held the child in your lap. He looked up at you with confused eyes, and you could tell he was asking why you weren’t going home.

“We are going to save him little guy,” you said with a stroke to his ear. “We will be home before you know it.”

You smiled lightly to yourself, and before you knew it, the speeder bike was roaring through the town and taking out every trooper in sight.

Blaster fire surrounded you and you tried to focus on what was ahead.

Mando was trapped…. But where?

Finally, you squinted your eyes and saw a regiment of soldiers ahead, and you knew Mando and the rest of the team were trapped inside the building.

“There!” you yelled, pointing to Mando’s cage, and the droid turned you and the child around for protection while he continued to fire.

It was slightly disorienting at first, because you honestly didn’t expect that to happen, but you felt better about the child’s safety.

This droid is no dummy, you thought to yourself. Kuiil did a good job.

Your heart pulled slightly at the thought of Kuiil, still laying out in the desert, but he would get his proper burial.

You just had to make sure Mando didn’t get one of those first.

The droid finally slowed down, and you took the opportunity to jump off the speeder bike and dive behind a pillar.

You got the child situated in your arms well enough so he could be protected, and started making your way out of your hiding spot.

You knew you couldn’t fight with the child in your arms, that’s just stupid, but you did reflect blaster shots from the troopers and took as many out as you could.

You had to start making your way to Mando somehow, but out of the corner of your eye, it seemed Mando was coming to you.

Mando charged out into the open with Karga on his tail, and he fired at will. He kicked and punched the troopers who were close enough to him, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced over your face at the sight of him.

You couldn’t see it, but Mando was smiling too.

You stuck close to the buildings surrounding you, slowly making your way around to where Karga was, but the chaos was insane. You could barely see where the shots were coming from, let alone where you were sending them.

You looked around to find some other way, but what you did see was way better.

Mando was running to a huge cannon, and you watched him rip it off the tripod and start firing it at the stormtroopers.

Your hopes were on the rise.

You saw a dark black death trooper place a detonator on the wall of Mando’s former cage, and you panicked when you realized Cara was still in there.

You started to make your way over there when the explosion hit, but you were far enough away so that you didn’t feel any wave from it.

You continued to make your way over to her.

Your senses were going so crazy, that you didn’t even feel Moff Gideon enter the scene.

What you did feel, however, was the pain Mando felt when the Moff fired a shot directly into his helmet.

It hurt like hell, and you heard Mando cry out in pain.

You turned back to where Mando was, and you saw him take aim at Moff with his canon.

This is it, you thought. Moff Gideon is dead.

You wish you hadn’t been trained in the force so well, because the very next thing you felt was the pride in Moff’s chest when he realized how to take Mando out.

Your eyes widened and panic struck you like lighting.

Moff is gonna kill him.

“Mando,” you screamed, but it was too late.

Moff Gideon had already fired at the generator next to Mando, and you had no choice but to dive for cover. You shielded the child with your body, and you were lucky enough to not feel the effects of the explosion.

But Mando felt it all.

When the dust cleared, you saw Cara dragging, his body back inside while Karga and IG-11 followed her in.

You didn’t care about anything in that moment. And if you would have known merely weeks ago that you would run across a battle field with no armour and a child in your arms, you would have smacked yourself silly.

But you did it anyways.

You made it to the door right before it closed, and you stopped in your tracks when you almost ran right into Cara’s gun.

It was pointed right at you.

“Get out,” she said, and you raised the hand not holding the child in surrender.

“Cara please,” you plead. You could see Mando laying on the floor behind her, and your heart was breaking.

He was badly injured. You could feel it.

“You can kick me out as soon as you’d like. I promise. Just let me see him,” you ask.

The tears were starting to cloud your vision and you tried not to let your voice crack. You didn’t want Cara to think you were trying to manipulate her.

But your Mandalorian was dying behind her.

“I promise,” you say, and she finally lowers your blaster.

“Thank you,” you respond, letting a breath out of your mouth as you do it, and you run to kneel beside Mando.

Of all the pain you’ve experienced in your life, you had learned a lot about it. You had learned that you personally deal better with pain when you have something to squeeze in your hand, like a pillow or the arm of a chair. You’ve learned that there are people in the world who enjoy making others feel pain, and no matter how many times you try, you just can’t understand why. You’ve learned that bacta shots work wonders for physical pain, but mental pain is almost impossible to numb.

But worse of all, you’ve learned that watching people you care for in pain is the worst pain in the world.

And this one hurt.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

[cinnamonest]

Razor with a fem teacher darling.

Some sweet lil cute lady in Mondstadt that teaches little kids. Older than our boy, maybe 30s, just old enough to be very maternal (and so that she’ll never see it coming of course). Conscripted by the knights to quit her day job and take on the task of teaching the wolf boy how to adapt to human society, how to speak and interact with others. They find that a normal approach overwhelms and confuses him, so they think your way of doing things would be best for someone... on his intellectual and social level.

They let him stay with her several hours a day and practice talking and teaching him things like the most basic words that he may need to know how to read, how to sign his name, basic addition/subtraction etc... He is like a kid in some ways, namely naivete and maturity, so you kinda deal with him as if he was, almost infantile, like giving him little mantras and poems they teach kids on how to remember basic manners/politeness, giving him stickers and other little trinket-y rewards for correct answers, which he cherishes quite a bit.

And he starts coming more and more often, doesn't want to leave, even stays sometimes overnight, and you let him, because you're glad he wants to learn about human life, so you let him sleep on your couch (although he often ends up just curling up on the floor anyway).

He becomes addicted to praise. Since you once taught little kids, you're used to that whole overenthusiasm people give kids, the "wow! Good job! I'm so proud!" And you give that to him too, because you wanna encourage him after all, and you figure he will only understand if you exaggerate the enthusiasm. He gets hooked on that and is constantly trying to earn your praise and approval, will do things and show them to you as he sits there expectantly, waiting for you to say he did good. Dips his head down expectantly, since you normally pet him on the head. Beaming smile and bright, wide eyes.

As such, the way you view him becomes... soft. Dangerously so, not that you’re aware of that aspect of it yet, but in your mind, he’s like a sweet kid, even ironically a bit puppy-like. He’s so sweet, you tell the knights when giving a report on your progress. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

And then he gets more... comfortable. As all people do in all kinds of relationships, they become less guarded, less careful, less afraid to be open and honest and allow their true self to come out.

You’re forced to become aware of the ways in which he is very much not a kid. Namely physically. One time you told him you had to go for the night and you'd see him tomorrow, but he kept saying you couldn't go yet, he just wants five more minutes! But you sigh and say no, you really have to go, and he huffs and pouts and grabs you by the arm and pins you down. Not yet. Just a few more minutes, he says. You genuinely fear for a moment that he’s about to unintentionally snap your arm, he grips so tightly. You pull, but he doesn’t even budge, you’re not certain that he even processes that you’re struggling, even though you use your full strength. You give a forced, scared smile and ask, hey, remember what we learned about selfishness? And how it's bad? How we can’t force other people do what we want? He hangs his head and says sorry, but seems sad about letting you go. The bruise he leaves lasts over a week. From that point forward, you’re acutely aware of the physical strength he possesses. But still, he didn’t mean to hurt you, he just didn’t understand, you think. He’s still so sweet. He just needs some time.

He likes your attention. That is, he likes to have it. He does not like your attention being given to other things and people. It took you a while to figure out why people would always look so uncomfortable and leave mid-conversation when he was in the room, you couldn’t see how he glared and scowled at people while standing behind you. Once you realize it, you don’t get mad, because it’s not his fault, right? You tell yourself to be patient, just like with the kids. You just have to explain that it’s important to be nice to people. Treat others the way you want to be treated, you say. And how would he want to be treated? Nicely, right? So be nice in the future, ok? He nods, but you get the sense it didn’t really sink in.

And for one thing, you learn he’s, well, appropriately curious about human... love. Relationships. Sex. Very, very curious, and very eager to ask questions. He actually understands and is familiar with quite a bit, you discover (he’s probably witnessed more sex than you have, really), he just doesn’t really know the words, and substitutes as best as he can before you teach him the right words for his... unique terminology, which he uses when describing the things he would like to learn the words for: The thing humans do where they hit each other with their mouths. When the girl-wolf is growing a baby inside and her stomach gets big. The thing mates do together. The white stuff the boy-wolves make, that comes out of their... thing, whatever the word is, tell him that word too, please. Not just wolves, he makes that white stuff too, he clarifies, because he has one of those things, just in case you didn’t know. You... handle it as maturely as you can. You tell him that yes, you’re aware he does, in fact, have one.

But you figure that curiosity is appropriate, he’s a sexually functioning adult, of course he’s curious. He’s fascinated by the female anatomy diagram in the textbook you manage to find in the library, looks at it quite a bit, and, despite your embarrassment, you figure you have a responsibility to make sure he understands. It’s not like it’s wrong, just awkward, so you willingly read the text when asked. Combined with the previous conversation, you soon realize a lesson in... appropriateness is probably needed. That is, since he’s started asking if you have those things too. Does it really look like that? Do those things really have milk in them? Can he feel them? The part of the book that shows the humans mating, why do they do it like that, facing each other? Do they ever do it the way wolves do? Have you done it before? You... have to tell him that he can’t go around asking other people questions like that. It’s not appropriate, you explain, and your job is to help him understand what is and isn’t appropriate. He doesn’t seem to grasp why he can’t ask things like that, seems hurt, like he thinks you just don’t want to, so you have to explain that it’s just... a human social thing.

You soon realize maybe you didn’t explain it well enough. When he keeps staring at your chest, you have to remind him it’s rude. And we don’t want to be rude, right? But he keeps asking why? Why is it bad? He doesn’t understand. When he has a very obvious raging hard-on and just sits there letting it visibly poke at the fabric, you awkwardly chime in that he might want to, uh, cover that up. But he tilts his head because he doesn’t understand why.

It’s only the beginning of such appropriateness conversations. Once when you’re working on something, he wants to show you the work he did, he practiced writing some of those important words. But you tell him to hang on just a minute, I’m working on something important. He doesn’t like that, so he shoves your work off the desk and sends it crashing to the floor. There, now you don’t have to look at all that stuff and can focus on him instead, see? Isn’t his writing good? Aren’t you going to say he did good? He doesn’t understand why you seem upset, but you, having developed an incredible patience in years of working with kids, keep your cool and explain why that’s not nice and why we have to learn to be patient, ok? But you reassure him it is good, put the cute sticker on his paper, and that’s all that matters, he seems happy. You feel like he didn’t hear the important part.

In fact, you were so impressed by the progress in his speaking and intellectual skills that you were a bit blinded to the fact that he’s showing a... concerning lack of understanding some of the more practical social lessons you’ve been teaching.

You swear you’ve said a hundred times now that you can’t just pick up things you want and take them, but he keeps doing it. You had to apologize profusely more times than you can count so the knights didn’t arrest him for theft, but you feel like they’re starting to get tired of the he doesn’t understand excuse.

And you’ve talked about being nice before, you swear, you’ve read several children’s books on the importance of niceness over and over, complete with pictures, and he seemed to like them. And he is sweet, precious even. ...To you. He just needs to work on applying those skills to everyone else, you always tell the superiors. To stop... scowling at people. To stop clinging to you, shyly hiding behind you like a child to their mother whenever someone new comes along. To stop ignoring when other people are trying to talk to him, and to stop interrupting other people who are talking to you when he decides that he wants you to be done with your current conversation and focus on him instead.

And most importantly, you tell them you need to work with him on the little... selfishness problem he seems to have. Stubbornness, rather.  He does not like the word no. He huffs and pouts like a kid, getting sad and sulky. Nor does he react well to being denied anything, and especially not being reprimanded in any way. He sulks quite a bit whenever you get frustrated at him. And he doesn’t exactly... listen. Sometimes he’ll heed your “no,” and sometimes he... does what he wants anyway. You almost get the sense that he thinks that listening to you is optional. As sweet as he is, you become increasingly aware that he very much likes it when things go his way, and can become rather pouty when he can’t get his way. 

It makes sense, you reason with yourself. Do what is necessary to obtain what you want. If you can’t get what you want, use force. Those are the laws of the wild, of survival in the animal world, are they not? He’s just... adjusting. He’s not used to such complex social constructs. Give him time.

He has to learn things can’t always go his way, especially since soon, you’ll have to return to your normal job, and he’ll be left to his own devices. They ruled that he’s improved enough that you’re no longer needed.

You do worry about that a bit. You worry how he’ll manage, and fear he’ll just go back to being a recluse in the woods, since the one thing he didn’t ever make much improvement on was forming bonds and socializing... well, with anyone besides you. You always tried to make him feel like he had a place he was loved and appreciated -- the same you do with the kids.

You always sensed a sort of lonesomeness in the boy. At one point you began to more carefully curate the books you would find to read aloud to him, being sure to leave the ones that featured families in the “don’t read” pile. He would get a sad look on his face and stare wistfully at pages whenever the story contained a mother or a family in any way. Sometimes you would find him flipping through old books at the pictures, looking out the window at children roaming the streets with their parents, and you couldn’t help but wonder how often he thought about what he could have had, if at all, and you wonder if he ever wished he could have had normalcy. You try to be something of a mother figure he never had -- loving, supportive. It’s the least you can do, right? You’ve done plenty of things that you sensed could backfire, but certainly that kindness would not come to be something you’d regret.

And you expected him to react badly to the news that your time together would be ending, but not this badly. You reassure him it’s ok, you’ll visit him all the time! He can come visit you when school isn’t in session! He still seems upset, even tearful. Why can’t you stay with him?

You choose your words carefully. He tends to hear what he wants to hear, rather than what you actually say, so you try your best to be clear. So there’s no confusion... so that he can’t twist your words.

It’s not your decision to make, it’s the board’s.

It’s their fault. They’re keeping her away.

He can visit you any time you’re not busy.

(y/n) will be too busy to play. Too busy with other people.

But you have to go to work, it’s your primary responsibility.

They’re more important than her than me.

He eventually gets quiet, sulks as he does. You sigh and hope he’ll be able to accept it.

... You get the strangest feeling of... premonition as you wrap up for the day. Like something bad is going to happen. You turn to him and remind him that... remember, doing bad things will get you in trouble, right? Hurting people and stuff like that... is illegal in Mondstadt, remember?

He actually becomes very alert at those words, like he’s having a realization. That’s good, you think, he gets it.

The realization was actually the... implication of the words “in Mondstadt.” It’s illegal and wrong... in Mondstadt. He’s not the brightest person in the world, but that gives him an idea. In his mind, Mondstadt isn't the whole region, it's just the city. So outside of the city... If he gets you outside of the city, then, it'll be ok to do anything he wants right? Yes, that makes a lot of sense to him.

So as your days together draw to a close, he asks for one more thing. He visited you so much. Can you come visit him, just once? He wants to show you his home. It'll be fun, you think, you'd genuinely like that. So you smile and agree. You have no reason not to.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[rainhadaenerys]

Since people in the ASOIAF fandom love to talk about how Dany used torture in interrogations (the wineseller and his daughters) or cruel punishment (the crucified slavers, Mirri's execution), I was thinking about listing moments in which the good guys of ASOIAF either considered to use or used torture in some way, to show just how normalized it is.

Catelyn tells Robb to let Theon die slowly in a crow's cage:

“So long as Theon Greyjoy sits in your father’s seat with your brothers’ blood on his hands, these other foes must wait,” Catelyn told her son. “Your first duty is to defend your own people, win back Winterfell, and hang Theon in a crow’s cage to die slowly. Or else put off that crown for good, Robb, for men will know that you are no true king at all.” - Catelyn II ASOS

Qhorin Halfhand tortures a Wildling to death to get information that this Wildling might not even know (and Jon thinks nothing of it):

“Perhaps,” said Qhorin, finishing the egg, “but there is more, I think. He is seeking something in the high cold places. He is searching for something he needs.”

“Something?” Mormont’s raven lifted its head and screamed. The sound was sharp as a knife in the closeness of the tent.

“Some power. What it is, our captive could not say. He was questioned perhaps too sharply, and died with much unsaid. I doubt he knew in any case.”

Jon could hear the wind outside. It made a high thin sound as it shivered through the stones of the ringwall and tugged at the tent ropes. Mormont rubbed his mouththoughtfully. “Some power,” he repeated. “I must know.” - Jon V ACOK

Jon considers using torture with the extreme cold to force Janos Slynt to obey him, and later, tortures Cregan Karstark with the ice cells:

“As you will.” Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—”

—and confine him to an ice cell, he might have said. A day or ten cramped up inside the ice would leave him shivering and feverish and begging for release, Jon did not doubt. And the moment he is out, he and Thorne will begin to plot again. – Jon II ADWD

~

Carved from the base of the Wall and closed with heavy wooden doors, the ice cells ranged from small to smaller. Some were big enough to allow a man to pace, others so small that prisoners were forced to sit; the smallest were too cramped to allow even that.

Jon had given his chief captive the largest cell, a pail to shit in, enough furs to keep him from freezing, and a skin of wine. It took the guards some time to open his cell, as ice had formed inside the lock. Rusted hinges screamed like damned souls when Wick Whittlestick yanked the door wide enough for Jon to slip through. A faint fecal odor greeted him, though less overpowering than he’d expected. Even shit froze solid in such bitter cold. Jon Snow could see his own reflection dimly inside the icy walls.

In one corner of the cell a heap of furs was piled up almost to the height of a man. “Karstark,” said Jon Snow. “Wake up.”

The furs stirred. Some had frozen together, and the frost that covered them glittered when they moved. An arm emerged, then a face—brown hair, tangled and matted and streaked with grey, two fierce eyes, a nose, a mouth, a beard. Ice caked the prisoner's mustache, clumps of frozen snot. "Snow." His breath steamed in the air, fogging the ice behind his head. "You have no right to hold me. The laws of hospitality—" - Jon X ADWD

Stannis tortures Theon:

Theon Greyjoy opened his eyes.  His shoulders were on fire and he could not move his hands.  For half a heartbeat he feared he was back in his old cell under the Dreadfort, that the jumble of memories inside his head was no more than the residue of some fever dream. I was asleep, he realized.  That, or passed out from the pain.  When he tried to move, he swung from side to side, his back scraping against stone.  He was hanging from a wall inside a tower, his wrists chained to a pair of rusted iron rings.

The air reeked of burning peat.  The floor was hard-packed dirt.  Wooden steps spiraled up inside the walls to the roof.  He saw no windows.  The tower was dank, dark, and comfortless, its only furnishings a high-backed chair and a scarred table resting on three trestles.  No privy was in evidence, though Theon saw a champerpot in one shadowed alcove.  The only light came from the candles on the table.  His feet dangled six feet off the floor.

"My brother's debts," the king was muttering.  "Joffrey's too, though that baseborn abomination was no kin to me."  Theon twisted in his chains.  He knew that voice. Stannis.

Theon Greyjoy chortled.  A stab of pain went up his arms, from his shoulders to his wrists.  All he had done, all he had suffered, Moat Cailin and Barrowton and Winterfell, Abel and his washerwomen, Crowfood and his Umbers, the trek through the snows, all of it had only served to exchange one tormentor for another. - Theon I TWOW

And Stannis also uses cruel punishment when burning people alive (this specific form of punishment - burning alive - is not actually normalized, and is considered cruel by people like Asha, but given that other characters like Catelyn think of forms of punishment to make people die slowly, it doesn't seem to me that it's all that different from what it's practiced in most of Westeros):

"He was dead," the weeping boy screamed, as the flames licked up his legs. "We found him dead … please … we was hungry …" The fires reached his balls. As the hair around his cock began to burn, his pleading dissolved into one long wordless shriek.

Asha Greyjoy could taste the bile in the back of her throat. On the Iron Islands, she had seen priests of her own people slit the throats of thralls and give their bodies to the sea to honor the Drowned God. Brutal as that was, this was worse. - The Sacrifice ADWD

King Jaehaerys I, the best king of Westeros, the Conciliator, uses torture to obtain information:

When word reached the Red Keep, Jaehaerys Targaryen himself rode forth to claim the body, surrounded by his Kingsguard. So wroth was His Grace at what he saw that Ser Joffrey Doggett would say afterward, “When I looked upon his face, for a moment it was as if I were looking at his uncle.” The street was full of the curious, come out to see their king or gaze upon the bloody corpse of the Pentoshi moneychanger. Jaehaerys wheeled his horse about and shouted at them. “I would have the name of the men who did this. Speak now, and you will be well rewarded. Hold your tongues, and you will lose them.” Many of the watchers slunk away, but one barefoot girl came forward, squeaking out a name.

The king thanked her, and commanded her to show his knights where this man might be found. She led the Kingsguard to a wine sink where the villain was discovered with a whore in his lap and three of Lord Rego’s rings on his fingers. Under torture, he soon gave up the names of the other attackers, and they were taken one and all. One of their number claimed to have been a Poor Fellow, and cried out that he wished to take the black. “No,” Jaehaerys told him. “The Night’s Watch are men of honor, and you are lower than rats.” Such men as these were unworthy of a clean death by sword or axe, he ruled. Instead they were hung from the walls of the Red Keep, disemboweled, and left to twist until they died, their entrails swinging loose down to their knees. – The Long Reign, Fire and Blood

The Arryns, who are considered honorable (like Jon Arryn) have the sky cells, that are a form of both psychological and physical torture:

It was cold in the cell, the wind screamed night and day, and worst of all, the floor sloped. Ever so slightly, yet it was enough. He was afraid to close his eyes, afraid that he might roll over in his sleep and wake in sudden terror as he went sliding off the edge. Small wonder the sky cells drove men mad.

Gods save me, some previous tenant had written on the wall in something that looked suspiciously like blood, the blue is calling. At first Tyrion wondered who he'd been, and what had become of him; later, he decided that he would rather not know. - Tyrion V AGOT

~

For that, Mord gave him a kick, driving a steel-toed boot hard into Tyrion's ribs on the way out. "I take it back!" he gasped as he doubled over on the straw. "I'll kill you myself, I swear it!" The heavy iron-bound door slammed shut. Tyrion heard the rattle of keys. - Tyrion V AGOT

The Manderlys (who are on the side of the Starks, the "good guys") have a torturer, Garth:

Once Garth brought his ladies by to introduce them to the dead man. "The Whore don't look like much," he said, fondling a rod of cold black iron, "but when I heat her up red-hot and let her touch your cock, you'll cry for mother. - Davos IV ADWD

And while the High Sparrow and the Faith Militant are not exactly "good guys", they are considered by the majority of people (the smallfolk) to be good and on the side of the common people. And they also use torture, to obtain information (Osney) or to force confessions (Cersei and Margaery):

Within, Osney Kettleblack hung naked from the ceiling, swinging from a pair of heavy iron chains. He had been whipped. His back and shoulders been laid almost bare, and cuts and welts crisscrossed his legs and arse as well. - Cersei X AFFC

~

"He will not even let me see them," fumed Margaery. "He keeps each of us apart from the others. Until you came, I was allowed no visitors but septas. One comes every hour to ask if I wish to confess my fornications. They will not even let me sleep. They wake me to demand confessions. Last night I confessed to Septa Unella that I wished to scratch her eyes out." - Cersei X AFFC

~

And they would not let her rest. Night or day, whenever the queen closed her eyes to sleep, one of her captors would appear to wake her and demand that she confess her sins. She stood accused of adultery, fornication, high treason, even murder, for Osney Kettleblack had confessed to smothering the last High Septon at her command. "I am come to hear you tell of all your murders and fornications," Septa Unella would growl when she shook the queen awake. Septa Moelle would tell her that it was her sins that kept her sleepless. "Only the innocent know the peace of untroubled sleep. Confess your sins, and you will sleep like a newborn babe." - Cersei I ADWD

~

Exhausted by her lack of sleep, shivering from the cold that stole into the tower cell each night, feverish and famished by turns, Cersei came at last to know she must confess. - Cersei I ADWD

With all that, I think we can see that torture is something pretty normalized in ASOIAF. People like Catelyn, Qhorin, Jon, Stannis and Jaehaerys all use it. Which is why it's so infuriating that only Dany is ever discussed when it comes to torture, not because what she did isn't wrong, but because it's only ever Dany that is held accountable to this. People always talk about Dany allowing torture for information, but never about Jaehaerys ordering torture for information, or Jon considering to use torture to force compliance. People always say that Dany crucifying the slavers or burning Mirri is cruel, but they forget that cruel punishments are completely normalized, like when Catelyn advises Robb to hang Theon in a crow's cage to die slowly, or when Jon puts Cregan Karstark in an ice cell, when Stannis hangs Theon from the wall, or when Stannis burns people alive. The double standards are infuriating, and you can see them everywhere in the fandom. As an example, if you go to the ASOIAF wiki right now, and look at their torture page, they mention the example of Dany using torture, but they don't mention Catelyn, Jon, Qhorin, Jaehaerys or Stannis at all.

[theghostofblackbunnymask]

Even A Devil Can Break- Chapter 1 (Y!Casino! Quackity x Female Reader

Even A Devil Can Break- Chapter 1 (Y!Casino! Quackity x Female Reader

Chapter 1 (Currently Reading) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (In The Works)

Summary Of The Story- Y/N was friends with Quackity ever since they were kids, but once Las Nevadas gets formed Quackity finds out about Y/N's greatest strength, which makes him use her for his own benefit, not caring if he traumatized his main obsession.\

Summary Of Chapter- Just small parts of childhood and the rest is when they’re adults.

Word count- 1,495

Warnings- manipulation, Blackmail, Schlatt (His character can be triggerng)

Author’s Note- This is based on the characters they play, NOT the people themselves

    Y/N walked out of her home with their torn up black and white bunny in their hands, their mother, Hope, telling them to be back before sundown. Y/N’s devil-like tail swung back and forth as she walked into the beautiful forest that was nearby. Her brother, Ben, older than her by 5 years, was in a nearby Village hanging out with his friends, and her mother and father were baking in the kitchen. Y/N sat at the beautiful stream that was far into the forest, watching fish and squid go by.      Y/N heard twigs being broken, and it was coming from a big tree next to her, she looked up and out came a yellow winged boy. The boy looked up and Y/N’s unreadable face and her tail swung in curiosity, her horns glowing F/C, and her small demon wings going up a bit.

“Hello!” The boy said.

“I’m Quackity! But you can call me Big Q if you want, what’s your name?” The boy named Quackity asked, Y/N pausing before responding.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N,” Y/N said, before looking back at the stream.

    There was an awkward silence after the two hybrids introduced themselves, and Quackity decided to break it.

“I have something cool to show you, wanna see?”

     Y/N thought for a moment, but was cut off by 1 of her 2 demons, Emotional.

“DON’T GO, HE’S GONNA KILL US!” The pastel colored demon exclaimed, black tears falling from his eyes, only Y/N could see them, which bothered her.

“Ok,” Y/N said, following Quackity while ignoring Emotional’s cries.

    They walked for about 30 minutes, getting deeper into the forest. Quackity moved a bush and showed Y/N a stash of weapons and potions.

“What are these for?” Y/N asked, confused on why he had so many.

“When you live alone in the wild, you can never be too safe, and also mobs.”

“Mobs?”

“Yeah! You do know what mobs are, right?”

    Y/N stared at him before slowly shaking their head, mouthing no. Quackity grabbed one of the iron swords and gave it to Y/N, along with a healing potion.

“Take these home and meet me here again tonight,” Quackity said eagerly.

“Why?” Y/N asked, confused.

“You’re going to fight some mobs!”

“Ok…” Y/N said, looking down at the sword as it showed their face.

    Y/N waved goodbye as the sun began to set, Quackity fastly waved goodbye until Y/N could no longer be seen.

“A friend…” ---------------     Y/N was in her middle school math class, her teacher, Mr. Harris, talking about lord knows what, while Y/N was starting to fall asleep, one of their friends, F/N, kicked the back of her chair.

“OW, what the hell, F/N?!” Y/N whisper yelled, her tail going straight to their friend's neck. “Look,” F/N said, pointing to the doorway to see Quackity beckoning Y/N to follow him.      Y/N sighed before lowering her tail and turned to look at F/N.

“Cover me,” Y/N said, before running out of the classroom.

“Y/N L/N GET BACK HERE!” Mr. Harris yelled.

“MR. HARRIS, Y/N has been really sick lately and they said she felt like she was about to throw up, so maybe that’s why she left.”

“Oh…” Mr. Harris said in embarrassment, before going back to teaching.

     Y/N grabbed Quackity by his shoulders before looking at him annoyed.

“What do you want, Big Q…”

“We’re skipping.”

“And, look at this,” Quackity said, pulling out an invitation.

“It’s from Schlatt,” Quackity said.

“He wants us to come to his party.”

“Ok…” Y/N said, uninterested.

“Q, are you sure he invited me? You’re friends with him, not me.”

“He said to bring you, see,” Quackity said, handing her the letter.

“Imagine how popular and powerful we’ll be if people see we’re hanging out with him,” Quackity said while Y/N read the letter.

“It’s just petty middle and high school popularity Quackity, it won’t mean anything when we’re adults.”

     Quackity looked at Y/N with a hint of anger in his eyes, before going back to normal.

“Y/N… It’s not just some ‘petty’ high school popularity, Schlatt’s family are pretty powerful, being friends with him can benefit you, Y/N,” Quackity said, putting his arm over Y/N’s shoulder, smirking sinisterly, but Y/N was too busy reading to see it.

    Sighing, Y/N agreed to go, before following Quackity off of school grounds.

“We’re going to be in trouble,” Y/N said.

“And?” Quackity asked.

“My parents have been saying they keep getting calls from the school about us sneaking out.”

“Hm,” Quackity said, amused. ------------

     Y/N walked down the halls of her high school while Schlatt and Quackity ranted about one of their classmates, Wilbur. Y/N couldn’t care less about what they were saying, she was too busy with their thoughts.

“You listening?” A gruff voice asked, in an annoyed tone.

“Schlatt…”

“Yeah, what do you want?”      When the trio turned the corner, the halls were packed.

“Rush hour…” Quackity mumbled.

“Yep,” Schlatt said.

    While the trio walked towards the lunch room, people turned their heads to look at the group. Y/N, Quackity and Schlatt were what people called a threat. And this made them the most popular kids in school, much to Y/N’s dismay and Quackity’s excitement. The trio noticed it got quiet all of a sudden and noticed people were staring at them.

“What?!” Schlatt said, making everyone run off.

“Freshmen…” Quackity said.

“Tell me about it,” Y/N agreed. ------------

      Y/N was with her pet fox, Ham. When she allowed Ham to run off, she sat down at a tree and sighed, putting her mask down as she looked up at the pitch black sky. When Ham came back running, she became on guard.

“What’s wrong Ham?” She asked, picking him up as she stood up confused.

“Well, Well, Well, long time no see.”

 Y/N lifted her mask up with a face filled with disgust and confusion. When she saw ram horns come into frame, her face turned into anger.

“What do you want, Schlatt? I told you I want nothing to fucking do with you, and you fucking scared Ham.”

“Ham? That’s a ridiculous name.”

“It isn’t that bad, Schlatt,” A familiar voice from the shadows said as the came into frame, Quackity.

“What do you two want, I know you didn’t go looking for me for any other reason than you needing something.”

“As you may not know, knowing how much you hate politics, I’m running for president of L’manburg-”

“Like you’re going to win.”

“Oh I will… But anyways, I have a proposition for you.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to be my assistant.”

Ham let out a laugh sounding scream while Y/N let out a wheeze.

“Like I would, I knew you were dumb but I didn’t think you were THIS dumb.”

“Oh, when did I say I was asking?”

“Huh?” Y/N asked, turning around.

“Quackity,” Schlatt said, sticking his hand out.

“Should we really do this? I mean-”

“Shut up. Give me the goddamn thing.”

       Quackity hesitantly handed him a file, which Schlatt snatched from his hands.

“There is something I found quite interesting about you Y/N.”

“Like what?”

“Your brother.”

        Y/N froze, her tail going straight up.

“Got her…”

“From the looks of it, you killed your brother during the war for L’manburg’s independence, completely by will.”

“How did yo-”

“It would be quite a shame if this were to, I don’t know, be told to the public.”

      Y/N gripped Ham as she looked down at the ground in shame. Schlatt grabbed Y/N’s face so she could look at him.

“So, if you want your secret between the three of us, you’ll work for me.”

“Fine,” Y/N said, yanking her head the other way before walking off, flipping the ram and duck hybrid off.

“Did we really have to do that?” Quackity asked as the two walked back.

“It’s worked in the past, why wouldn’t it work again?”

“You’re right.”

[sugar-petals]

:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊  includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion. 

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t. 

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better. 

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track. 

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks. 

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two. 

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house. 

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces. 

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar. 

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think. 

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front. 

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm. 

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined. 

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

[flosbelova]

they don’t know about us

i’m back with another story lmao. also, after writing this, i realized how ironic it was. whoops.

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

florence pugh x reader

summary: you and florence have been dating in secret. however, when she’s involved in a dating PR stunt to promote her new movie, you start to get worried and wonder if your relationship will ever meet the public eye.

fluffy with a hint of angst.

warnings: language, smutt-ish (18+)

word count: 3.2k+

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

you and florence have been dating for almost a year now. surprisingly, no one has found out. sure, the paparazzi have followed you guys around, but you were always careful not to look like a couple. but because everyone loves rumored romance, fans had begun speculating about your relationship. however, both you and florence have denied these “rumors” and state that you’re just “very good friends.”

but the thing is, it kills you every time you have to deny our relationship with florence.

you and florence met at an after party from an award show and instantly hit it off. within a couple weeks, she had asked you to be her girlfriend and you being a paranoid person, you told her that you’d think about it. she looked hurt at first and you felt stupid for turning her down the first time, but you came to your senses and finally said yes.

ever since then, you have both lived quietly in peace. you noticed that florence seemed to be content with the way things were: “secret.” and since it didn’t bother her that much, you figured that it shouldn’t bother you either.

when florence started filming “don’t worry, darling,” you would visit the set often and stay in her trailer. no one ever really batted an eye because you were usually in the corner and no one ever noticed you. when she wasn’t in a scene, she’d quickly run to her trailer and attack you with kisses. God, your make-outs felt like they could last an eternity. but they were usually cut short as a crew member would knock and tell florence that her scene was coming up.

fast forward to now, it’s time to promote the movie. however, because hollywood is hollywood, articles immediately came out stating that florence and her co-star, harry styles, were hollywood’s new “it-couple.” this killed you inside, obviously. but you chose not to say a word to florence because you wanted her movie to be big and for her to get more recognition.

press after press, magazines after magazines, interview after interview, photo shoots after photo shoots, articles after articles, you fucking name it. “harry styles and florence pugh: hollywood’s favorite couple.” God it killed you to see it. it was EVERYWHERE.

your family and friends that knew about you and florence kept messaging you asking if you two had broken up. you had to explain over and over that it was just for press and nothing else.

but then, you thought about it. was it really just for press? what if she started developing feelings for him? what if she actually leaves me for him? am i not good enough? why do we have to be secret? would it kill her reputation if we said anything?

these questions were racing through your mind like crazy. finally, after much thinking and trying your best to meditate on it, you decide to ask florence the question.

—

it’s sunday morning, it’s a rainy day in LA, what an odd sight. you get your coffee and take a sip, enjoying the sound of rain hitting the roof and windows. you loved the rain.

you hear footsteps coming from behind you and feel soft arms embrace you. florence rests her head on your shoulder.

“good morning baby,” she says in her adorable morning voice.

you turn your head to face her and give her a quick peck on her nose. she scrunches her nose and oh god, your heart might as well have jumped out your chest. she was so cute every single time she’d scrunch her nose.

y/n focus. you have important questions to ask florence. fucking focus.

you let go from her embrace in which you heard a whine from your girlfriend. you walk to the kitchen and put your coffee down on the counter and ask florence to sit down.

“babe, can you please sit down? we need to talk.”

you can tell that florence was caught off-guard with the expression on her face. she sits down across from you and looks at you with a worried smile.

“y/n, is anything wrong?”

you can hear your own heartbeat at this point. in fact, that’s all you hear. suddenly words aren’t coming in your brain. focus y/n. focus. you take a deep breathe and come clean.

“okay, i know we’re a secret and it’s fun being sneaky and all, but i gotta admit, it’s killing me. i also have to admit that this whole PR stunt relationship with harry is killing me. look harry’s a great guy and all but—“

“i know,” florence says cutting you off.

“oh,” you say feeling somewhat assured.

“y/n, you can’t hide anything from me. your face said it all,” florence says.

“your face said it all,” damn your expressive face.

“oh,” was all you could utter.

“i’ve started to notice when you started to get distant. in that moment i knew that it bothered you.” florence says afflicted.

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t think clearly. did i really get distant?

“y/n? are you gonna say something?” florence asked anxiously.

“um, what are we gonna do? i mean, what are you gonna do? are you gonna say something? it’s been two months since the movie came out and people are still talking about it—“ you ramble.

“y/n,” florence cuts you off again. “you know how this shit works. it’s the ‘hollywood culture.’ things like this aren’t gonna die down in just a couple of months, especially for something this big.”

“then what’s gonna happen with us?” you ask hopelessly.

“nothing will happen. we just have to wait until this dies down, sweetheart.” florence says, reaching for your hand, trying to sound reassuring.

you pull your hand back. it’s clearly shown in your face that you’re conflicted and angry. “florence, i don’t want to wait for this to die down. i’m tired of us being kept a secret. i’m exhausted of having to explain to my family and friends that we’re still a couple and that this stuff is just for press. i’m tired of having to worry if you’re developing feelings for him. i’m tired of having to worry if you’ll leave me for him. my heart aches every single time i see you both on the cover of a magazine when i go grocery shopping. i love you too much to let you go.”

florence furrows her brows and looks choleric. “why can’t you just understand that i love you? why can’t you understand that this stunt is JUST a stunt to me? maybe because you’ve been so busy being so distant and jumping to conclusions. y/n, i’m exhausted too. i really am,” she says, her voice breaking. “do you know how much it breaks me because you’ve been so distant? this past month, i’ll try to hug you, and you barely hug back. and when i try to make conversation with you, you barely respond. i miss you y/n.”

your eyes are filled with tears at this point and look up to see florence with tears falling down, clearly heartbroken and in agony. on instinct, you walk towards her and pull her into a tight hug. florence hugs you back and instantly breaks down in your arms. you stroke her hair and kiss her on her forehead.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quietly.

you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you made her feel this way. it’s true, you had been distant. you had been so caught up with worrying about the “what if’s,” and didn’t think for a second about what florence might have been feeling. this movie rested on her back and she had to do whatever she could to make sure that this movie was gonna get the recognition it deserved. even with this whole stunt, florence never questioned your relationship for one second. you did.

God, i feel like a dumbass.

you grab florence’s face and wipe the tears from her eyes. it pained you to see her cry, even when she was acting. only this time, she wasn’t acting. this was real. this was a real life situation.

florence smiled weakly at you and quietly said in almost a whisper, “i’m gonna say something soon. it’s about time that people knew.” she sniffs.

your heart dropped to your stomach. you started to regret even letting her know. i should’ve just kept my mouth shut.

florence clears her throat and continues, “it’s good that you brought this up. for weeks, i’ve been thinking how to bring this about to the public— i even confided in harry and asked for his advice,” she laughs softly.

you look at her with worry in your eyes and florence easily reads you like a book.

“don’t worry, darling. i got this handled,” florence says smiling. “also, pun heavily intended.”

you roll your eyes and chuckle lightly and hug her tightly once more.

—

a week after your conversation, you check your phone and notice that it’s filled with a couple notifications. you wondered why since your phone usually had tumbleweeds passing by. you noticed that your calendar had a very important notification. you went to check and oh shit.

how could i forget?

it’s your one year anniversary with florence and you completely forgot.

what the fuck is wrong with me?!

florence barges in the room with a big smile on her face and a tray full of food. she sets the tray on your bedside nightstand and kisses you on the cheek.

“good morning, baby! happy one year anniversary! look i made you pancakes with chocolate chips— just the way you like it— and look! i cut the strawberries to make them into hearts!” she squeals.

you looked at her dumb founded and all you could do was grab her face and kiss her passionately. she moans quietly and moves to straddle your lap without breaking the kiss. you move your hands from her face and move it to her waist and pull her in closer.

florence grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in much closer, breaking any other space in between the both of you. you feel her tongue run across your bottom lip to test the waters and you slightly open your mouth and let her tongue slip in. you let out a soft moan as her tongue touches yours. she breaks the kiss to catch her breath for a moment and proceeds to leave trails of kisses down your jaw to the crook of your neck. you feel her nibble on your neck and you couldn’t help but moan.

the sound of your moans have to be on florence’s top list of favorite sounds because what she did next made you jump.

as she continued to leave wet trails of kisses across your neck, florence slides her hand under your shirt and squeezes your boobs and runs her thumb over your nipple.

you move your chest more towards her, but as soon as you do so, she removes her hand and moves it back to your face and presses her lips gently on yours. she pulls back and looks at you alluringly.

you give her a pout. “damn we were about to get to the good part, why’d you stop?”

she strokes your cheek with her thumb, smiles, and shrugs. she gives you a quick peck on your lips.

“eat your breakfast,” she says to you.

“you’re a damn tease,” you say annoyed.

she winks at you and gets up from your lap. she leaves the room and you grab your tray and follow her to the kitchen. you took the plates from the tray and set them on the island table.

“why’d you get up? i made that to be eaten in bed! do you not get the concept of breakfast in bed?” she asks sarcastically.

“my bad. do you want me to go back?” you respond.

“no, you already made the effort to bring the food here, so we might as well eat.” she says.

—

“okay, i have a confession to make. i kinda forgot that our anniversary was today,” you say embarrassed.

florence chuckled, “i know.”

“well to make up for it, can i treat you out to lunch?” you ask nervously biting your lip hoping for a satisfactory answer.

florence had always been vocal about eating out because she didn’t want your relationship to be exploited. and because LA was always buzzing with paparazzi, you and florence usually chose to get food delivered or, florence would cook both your meals.

but to your surprise, florence says, “yeah. let’s do it.”

—

you drove to this restaurant in west hollywood that most celebrities were known to go to. they always had good services and their appetizers were scrumptious.

when you walked inside, you noticed how many eyes were on you and florence. you wondered why and then you realized… florence was holding your hand.

you tried to let go but florence tightened her grip and whispered in your ear, “it’s okay,” and gave your cheek a quick peck. you knew damn well people noticed that.

when you finally got to your table, you noticed how many heads were turning. your heart started beating fast, chills went down your spine, and your hand started to sweat.

after you got your meals, you nudged florence’s arm.

“baby people are looking.”

she looks up at you as she brings her food to her mouth and says, “let them look.”

you went back to your food and tried to focus on eating, but of course, you couldn’t. so, you checked your phone and you guessed it, your phone was buzzing with notifications from your friends and social media mentions.

“baby, put your phone down and eat. we’ll get out of here quicker if you finish your food quicker.” florence says, taking your phone and setting it next to her.

you sigh and continue eating.

after you both finish, you look out the window and noticed all the cars and people passing by. the view from the outside was so nice. the sky finally cleared up and LA was back to being sunny.

you didn’t notice it then, but florence had snapped a picture of you admiring the view from the restaurant window.

“alright, y/n, wanna get out of here?” florence asks.

“yeah, let’s go home.” you respond.

you insisted on paying the bill since it was your treat, and made sure to tip your waiter extra money.

after paying the bill, florence stands up and grabs your hand. your eyes widened for a quick second because she was holding your hand in public, once again.

that same night, florence posted the off-guard picture that she took of you and posted it on her Instagram with the caption: “my favourite view. happy one year my love.”

you decided to check your Instagram and saw that your photo was the first thing you saw on your feed. you did a double take because you couldn’t believe that florence had actually posted you.

you checked the comments and it consisted of avid fans who were excited, shocked, and in disbelief.

“OH MY GOD I KNEW IT”

“HOLY SHIT WHAT??”

“wait, what about her and harry??”

“i thought her and harry were dating?? i’m so confused”

“florence!” you scream out from the living room.

“yes, darling?” she screams back from the kitchen.

she walks towards the living room and as soon as she gets near the couch, you stand up, and try to hug her eagerly, but instead you both fall to the ground. you quickly get up and help florence.

“i’m sorry, but what the hell?” you ask in shock.

florence furrows her brows and looks annoyed. “what do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ you tackled me—“

“you actually posted me?” you interrupt.

she changes her mood and says, “oh that? yeah i did. i decided it was time, and believe me, i was getting tired of the stunt too.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you kissed her so quickly that she almost fell. “i love you so fucking much.”

—

the next day, your phone was still buzzing with notifications but this time, it was double the notifications. you decided to check your phone and saw articles supporting your relationship, saw other articles that explained hollywood’s infamous PR stunts, and unfortunately, you noticed that some articles were trying to paint florence as some sort of “cheater.” this angered you to your core.

why the fuck would they accuse her of cheating? that’s a whole wad of bullshit.

you get up from your bed and walk to your kitchen. florence was already there preparing coffee. she turns around and yelps.

“Y/N!” florence yells.

you laugh. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you walk towards her and give her a big embrace. once you pull back, you don’t let go just yet. you give florence a quick kiss and finally let go.

“my phone has been buzzing all morning” you say annoyed.

“yeah mine too,” florence says, looking defeated.

you notice her expression. you grab her hand. “baby what’s wrong?”

florence let’s go of your hand and waves off her annoyance, “i saw an article that called me a cheater and i’m not gonna lie it ruined my morning.” she turned around to the island table and took a sip of her coffee.

you felt your anger rise up, but you calmed yourself. you wrapped your arms around florence’s waist from behind, and hugged her until she felt better. as soon as you do this, she turns around and wraps her arms around you, returning the embrace.

“i’ll be okay. my publicist called me this morning and said that she cleared up any rumors or accusations.” florence says, sighing.

“okay, that’s good,” you say, stroking her hair. you gave her a kiss on her cheek. “is everything gonna be alright?” you ask.

“yeah. i’m sure they will.” florence says in a hopeful tone. “whatever happens, i’ll be okay; we’ll be okay.”

you kiss her gently and whisper, “i love you, flo.”

“i love you more, y/n,” florence returns, and presses her soft lips onto yours.

—

a couple of weeks passed and you and florence’s ‘incident’ was basically last year’s issue. magazines and articles had finally shut up and stopped accusing florence of being a cheater.

you had wondered why they would even call her that since the relationship between her and harry weren’t even real to begin with. almost everyone knew that it was a PR stunt anyway, and yet, they still called her that. fucking hollywood.

however, you had noticed that florence’s mood had improved more within the weeks since she was finally able to post you. any chance she got, she would post you. as much as it embarrassed you, you kind of enjoyed the attention. you enjoyed finally being able to go out in public, hand in hand with your girlfriend, kiss her, without a care in the world. you both promised to always tell each other anything, and both of you would do your utmost best to fix them. all was well in the world. you loved each other and didn’t give a fuck about what other people had to say. and that’s all that mattered. you both loved one another.

the end

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List /  Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure. 

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub. 

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family. 

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago. 

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive. 

And Salvation was where he needed to be. 

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here. 

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him. 

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands. 

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim. 

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's. 

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door. 

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures. 

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf. 

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses. 

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late. 

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it. 

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings. 

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring. 

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world. 

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond. 

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked. 

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point. 

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind. 

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses. 

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome. 

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear. 

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice. 

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes. 

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance. 

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat. 

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. 

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

[bigskydreaming]

Its always interesting to me when I see people saying Damian is just like Bruce, in a totally matter of fact way, like its just such a foregone conclusion to them, because I don’t really see it at all, lol. 

Like to be clear, its not that Damian doesn’t have ANY similarities to Bruce, I think all of Bruce’s kids share various attributes with him....I just think most of the ones Damian shares tend to be more superficial than characteristic, and there are others who are far more like Bruce than he is? Personally, I think Cass and Tim have the most in common with Bruce, albeit in different ways.....but tbh I think even Jason has more in common with Bruce than Damian does, for example.

Idk.....like for instance, I consider one of the key differences between Dick and Bruce being that Bruce’s sense of morality and ethics is clearly defined, exists as specific, hard-clung to views that he applies regardless of whom is involved in whatever situation he’s applying them to. To Bruce, ethics and morality exist outside of people, and are inviolate.....they’re not meant to change depending on who they’re aimed at or will be affected by them. In contrast, Dick is someone I see as having a morality largely defined by people. His sense of morals and ethics are more fluid....its not that he doesn’t have clearly defined views of right and wrong that underly his regular actions and choices as sort of a default benchmark, a starting point to work off of....its that Dick sees morals and ethics as meaningless if they don’t serve those he cares about or fights for, or if he has to sacrifice someone he values in service to what he views as an arbitrary moral or ethic that CAN be adjusted if he so chooses to adjust it....like that’s the thing HE’S not willing to do. Its like.....Dick sees individual lives as having more value than the abstract, which is what he ultimately considers a singular principle, and so he’d rather sacrifice the principle than the life. Bruce in contrast doesn’t view morals and ethics as being remotely abstract, and views them as the very things that GIVE individual lives value, so he’s not willing to sacrifice his values or principles full stop.

Or to put it another way: If it comes down to a choice between a killer and their intended victim, where it looks like the only possible way to save their victim is to kill the killer before they can kill instead....Dick will take the shot so to speak.....but since he does still believe killing is wrong and an absolute last resort and he’s been raised by someone who he very much does value and who believes that there’s always another way.....then Dick will self-flagellate for not having been able to find another way that didn’t involve killing the killer. Bruce on the other hand, will attempt down to the very last second to find a way to save both lives, no matter how impossible it seems.....and if he’s ultimately unable to, he’ll then self-flagellate for not having found a way to save both. 

The truly ironic thing IMO, is even in a situation where BOTH consider themselves to have failed, they’ll both still consider their failure to be the exact same thing....though for entirely different reasons and with different results. Both will view ‘not having been able to find another way’ to have been the true failure.....even though, one killed and one didn’t. Because Dick wouldn’t perceive having killed as his true failure.....because that’s the part he doesn’t actually regret, if it means that he saved the killer’s intended victim as a result. He still did it with intent, in this complete hypothetical, because he perceived the victim’s life as more important than his personal desire not to kill or view that killing is wrong. BUT he’ll still consider himself to have failed because despite having saved one life, he’d view the fact that he couldn’t find another way where taking one life wasn’t a NECESSITY in order to accomplish that.....that was his failure, in his mind. Similarly, but completely differently at the same time....Bruce will consider his failure to have been not having found a way to save both. BUT just like Dick’s true regret isn’t that he killed the killer, Bruce’s true regret isn’t that he DIDN’T, in order to save their victim. Its that he couldn’t find a way out of that box that made it a choice of one or the other.

Course, that’s just my perception of the two of them.

But as examples, this is I think WHY Dick was able to kill the Joker at all in Last Laugh, whereas Bruce will ultimately never bring himself to cross that line. (And while Dick wasn’t matter of fact about it by any means, its significant in my mind that his actual stated regrets about that were always that he played into what the Joker had wanted and thus let him win, and that he’d failed Bruce and let him down....never once was it actually that he’d killed the Joker, period.) Similarly, its why Dick’s a lot more willing to work with people he’s ideologically opposed to or more flexible....in fact, I maintain its specifically why Bruce was so convinced that only Dick could infiltrate Spyral. It wasn’t JUST about the logistics of Dick being believed dead after Forever Evil, or Bruce’s issues about having just watched Dick die.......because Bruce is great at undercover work himself, as Matches Malone, and he traditionally HATES delegating the ‘hard stuff’ to someone else, especially when the stakes are this high....even if he does trust that person absolutely. He believes that if its his responsibility, its up to him to do it if at all possible.

Which is why I think that ultimately, the only reason Bruce didn’t find a way to take on the Spyral mission himself, is because he didn’t think he’d be able to. Spyral was a shady spy organization that engaged in morally compromising work on a day to day basis. Deep down, I think Bruce was aware that there would be too many occasions in which he’d be likely to be sidetracked or frozen by his conviction that there HAD to be a way around whatever he was being asked to do for the sake of keeping his cover, that didn’t require acting against various hard-set morals....which more than likely would have cost him the mission and rendered it a failure.....with catastrophic results for his family and the rest of the hero community. Whereas he knew that Dick would be able to find a way to make it work, because despite having a very strong sense of right and wrong of his own, he knows Dick’s highest moral prerogative is that he WILL act on even something he does firmly believe is wrong, if he’s convinced its the price he needs to pay for the sake of loved ones. And thus, even though he wouldn’t be any happier about the moral compromising nature of a lot of Spyral’s work than Bruce is, he’d be less likely to find himself unable to act in a split second decision time, so long as Bruce uttered the magic words: this is an utter necessity for the sake of your family.

Also ironically, btw, I think one of the key ways that a lot of people perceive Dick and Bruce as different....I’d disagree and say is actually where they’re MOST alike. And that’s that people point to Bruce as closed off and tightly guarding his emotions, hurts, and vulnerabilities at the expense of getting close to people or letting them in.....whereas Dick is more of a people person. But honestly, I disagree. I think people overlook that Brucie Wayne is still as much a part of Bruce Wayne’s life as Batman is. Bruce is and always has been completely capable of being the life of the party and surrounding himself with droves, on a surface level. I think Dick takes it perhaps a bit further than that, he IS more approachable than Bruce in general, that sorta thing.....BUT when it comes to his most private emotions, hurts and vulnerabilities.....I think Dick is just as inclined as Bruce to keep those parts of himself closely guarded and he doesn’t LIKE giving them up. The actual difference between them IMO, again comes down to the role other people play in their ways of thinking.....as I think that the times and reasons Dick DOES open up about his most closely guarded thoughts or emotions....its for other people, because he’s convinced himself that THEY need this from him. Left to his own devices, or at least the perception that he’s the only one likely to be affected by whether he shares his most intimate self with someone else or not, I think he’s just as likely as Bruce to well, not.

And all of this is key to why I think that Damian tends to have a lot more in common with Dick than Bruce, whereas others in the family have more in common with Bruce than Dick. Because see, Damian, like Dick, is more likely to ACT as a result of other specific individuals rather than his own personal sense of right and wrong. Look at when he first came from the League of Assassins. He had a clearly defined view of right and wrong, an already formed morality of his own, even if it was diametrically opposed to most of the Batfam’s, particularly Bruce’s. 

Damian didn’t set all that aside because people succeeded in just uniformly shifting his paradigms to be more in line with their views of right and wrong. The changes to his moral code came as a trickle down result of him ALREADY adjusting his actions or behavior - even before he necessarily came to view them as wrong - for the sake of the connections he was building, with Dick, with Alfred, with Steph, and then from there with others.

Just like I outlined with Dick, where he’s more likely than Bruce or many others to act on even something HE believes is wrong, if he views it as a necessity for the sake of a loved one.....Damian is similarly likely to act in a way that completely flies in the face of everything he came to Gotham already believing....if he views it as a necessity for the sake of the individuals he came to value. Just like Dick, simply starting from a different point on the moral spectrum. The sense of right and wrong that they ‘betrayed’ for the sake of other valued individuals was different....not the reasoning for that ‘betrayal’ of their previously established moral code.

Similarly, while Damian is just as inclined to be closed off and guarded as Bruce is (and Dick. and well, most of the Batfam shares this part in common, lol) - like Dick, when he does open up, be it to Dick or Alfred or Jon or Colin.....its because he’s convinced himself that on some level its what THEY need, rather than because he actually believes that he himself needs to let them in.

Meanwhile, the reason I say Jason is actually more like Bruce than even Damian is, lies in viewing Jason as falling somewhere between Dick and Bruce on a lot of this. Basically, I think that Jason is more naturally inclined to be more like Bruce in how rigidly he holds to a particular sense of right and wrong.....its just that the particulars of what they both view as right and wrong are different. Same thing with it being more natural to Jason to be like Bruce in terms of guarding his emotions. But in both instances, he’s still ENOUGH like Dick, as opposed to Bruce, that he does still adjust his emotional behavior and how likely he is to act on or against his personal view of morality.....for the sake of valued individuals. It just doesn’t come to him AS....naturally, I guess, as it does to Dick, and thus he’s not AS fluid as Dick in these things....but he’s still MORE fluid about them than Bruce. And that’s why even though it takes a LOT to budge him from his view of the right and wrong approach to vigilantism, he IS still willing to put aside what he does still believe is a necessity or right....if that’s what it takes to have his family in his life, etc.

To be clear - I am trying to not cast any particular judgments on any of the approaches to morality here....simply just, not the aim of this post. I’m more trying to view things analytically here, so when I frame Bruce as being the most intractable of the lot here, the least likely to budge his morals or act against his personal sense of right and wrong for the sake of loved ones, its not because I’m trying to say that he DOESN’T love his family, or even that he loves them any less than Dick does, Jason does, etc. And I’m not even trying to suggest that he’s wrong for his approach. I’m literally just....exploring the WHY of it.

And for me, that tends to go back to the singular difference between Bruce’s later childhood, after his parents’ deaths, the period between ages 10 and adulthood.....versus the childhoods of his various children around those same ages, or after their parents’ deaths.

Because these are the ages when most of us most fully develop the....intricacies of our personal moralities, when we explore and shape how our behavior stems from that sense of right and wrong and when and where we act on our beliefs, etc. 

And the key thing about Bruce during this period of his life, IMO, is that at the time.....he had very few specific INDIVIDUALS who played significant emotional roles in his life and in his mind. Bruce cares about people. Absolutely. A lot. But for a lot of the period in which Bruce shaped a lot of his personal moral behavior, people were almost as much an abstract to him as morals themselves. That’s not quite the right way to put it, but I mean, its more like....there was a kind of uniformity to the way he viewed people as a whole, because there were less individuals specifically standing out from the rest, as PARTICULARLY significant to him himself....and thus likely to influence his growing moral code.

The other key factor is the people he DID have valued emotional connections to at this point, like....they had a kind of permanence that stretched back to early childhood for him. They weren’t NEW additions to his life. While I believe that his parents’ deaths absolutely was formative for him and left him with severe abandonment issues....for Bruce, these abandonment issues were specifically geared around fear of losing people to death. He was already rooted in the same place, same life, same people, that he was before his parents’ death, that part of his life didn’t change.....and thus the people who were left to play large emotional roles in his life and worldview, like Alfred and Leslie.....he might have been afraid of losing them the way he lost his parents, but he wasn’t especially of losing them for other reasons. Specifically: I don’t think Bruce grew up during this time feeling any particular fear of losing someone like Alfred - a staple of his entire life - to, say, Alfred judging him for his choices or his morals.

As a result, Bruce grew up shaping his personal view of right and wrong and resulting morality-stemming behavior, on pretty much nothing BUT those morals and ethics themselves. And there wasn’t any particular NEED to shape those morals AROUND the people he valued in life, or likelihood that he’d lose them due to differences in opinion or ideology, like....with all of this adding up to be the reasons HIS moral code and behavior is less fluid than even most peoples’. Because there wasn’t really any reason for it NOT to be. There were very few people and thus few occasions, while still DEVELOPING all this, that made him feel that he was maybe on the wrong track, or that he needed to make room for exceptions or the possibility that he might need to adjust his views or behavior in these regards.

In contrast......Dick, Jason and most of the others all came to Bruce after significant upheavals in their life that necessitated basically starting over in an entirely brand new environment with brand new people, etc. So they lacked the specific aspect of the PERMANENCE Bruce felt in regards to his own valued loved ones during this period of his life. So unlike him, where he had a bit more space to contemplate his moral code and behavior without being particularly afraid of getting it wrong or that his choices here might cost him these people.....Dick, Jason, et al like....they formed their moral codes and behavior with significantly more awareness that many of the people they valued already had fully formed codes of their own they felt very strongly about...AND at the same time, they had REASON to be....less secure about whether or not the choices they made here could potentially cost them these people.

Which is a perfect recipe for the kind of moral fluidity based around specific individuals, that I maintain most of the kids display to various degrees. In fact, you can almost kinda....chart the extent of their moral fluidity, via various factors like the QUANTITY of significant emotional attachments in their lives at this time. Like I maintain Dick is the most morally fluid based on people.....but that I think has a lot to do with the fact that Dick had the most attachments to....protect or preserve. Even though he was forced to live apart from his extended circus family, they still very much figured into his thoughts as people he cared about and valued, and then there were Bruce and Alfred, and then Clark, Barbara, the Titans, etc, etc. 

In contrast, look at how Jason came to Wayne Manor with very few pre-existing emotional attachments with anyone still alive.....and the fact that Jason during his time living with Bruce didn’t really even have occasion to form a large number of attachments outside of his immediate family, as he wasn’t on any teams unlike Dick, and he didn’t mingle all that much with other members of the hero community. Ergo, Jason’s LESS morally fluid than Dick simply for the reason that like Bruce, he had more reason to construct his personal morals around simply his own perceptions and convictions, and less people he felt this moral code and behavior needed to acccomodate, or be prepared to make exceptions for or around. 

Meanwhile, I’d argue that Damian is like Jason in that he had fewer people to build into his personal view of right and wrong and how and when to act based on that.....BUT a key difference here is that Damian didn’t have a lot of experience pre-Gotham with feeling valued and valuing other individuals in turn, like...at all. The connections he developed with Dick, Alfred, Steph, etc.....they were brand new to him, basically a revelation in a lot of ways, because before that we’ve seen how he was often taught to dampen his view of how valuable or not to view personal connections.....whereas Jason, pre-Wayne Manor, like......we know that he DID very much have a strong emotional attachment to Catherine that he embraced and was not hesitant to value, etc. So my point here being that the sheer NEWNESS of what Damian was feeling in regards to even WANTING to adjust his behavior based not on what he THOUGHT was right or wrong but based on the PEOPLE he was coming to value....this was a complete shock to the system to Damian in ways that it wouldn’t necessarily have been for Jason, resulting in a likelihood that Damian would feel an enhanced INTENSITY around all this that Jason might not, and thus despite both of them having similar NUMBERS of emotional attachments they shaped their changing and developing moral codes around, these people carried an additional weight for Damian, just as Jason’s few carried an additional weight that Bruce’s didn’t have due to the differences in THEIR upbringings in this period of their lives.....and thus resulting in Damian having an even more fluid moral code and behavior than Jason did....closer to being on par with Dick’s, just as Jason still has a more fluid one than Bruce does.

ANYWAY.

This was a LOT longer than I thought it would be when I started a little post about huh weird how I don’t see Damian the way a lot of other people do BUT SINCE WHEN IS THAT NEWS.

In conclusion, this has been a post.

Good day.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Kai Taking Care Of You In Prison (2)

Taking Care of Kai in Prison (Part 1) is here, if you want to read it first! You don’t have to as the two don’t link that closely, but it’s of course recommended!

Summary- Kai finds it unfair that you have been conditioned to do everything yourself, so he helps take some weight of your shoulders, and makes an interesting promise for next time. 

Warnings- Not much. Really really dirty. I mean, really dirty. Words- 2.2k

Enjoy! :)

----

Picking up a letter from the reception, you walk to Kai Anderson’s cell in the High Security wing. Since everything given to all the prisoners is checked prior, the letter is already open, so you push your finger inside the envelope and peel it back slightly, only to see a letter from Elite Genetics, with a small table saying Kai’s name and surname under “Alleged Father” and in the next column, 0%.

You take your hand out of the letter and take a deep breath at the bad news Kai is clearly going to receive. He had a habit of getting violent with other prisoners, only having not committed murder already because he’s on thin ice with the death penalty. When you buzz into the building and walk down the corridor towards with his cell at the very end, you tap the letter against your leg rhythmically, trying to hide and contain the slight excitement and arousal you feel from just being in his proximity. You were one of the toughest guards in this prison and you were not going to ruin your reputation and the respect the inmates had for you just because of one man, so you had to brace yourself.

You walk right into his cell and silently sit down opposite him. When Kai puts his elbow up on the table and straightens his pinky out, you fold the letter in half quickly and push it into your pocket to give him later. You link your finger with his and look him in the eye, desperate to hear what question has been floating around his head like a Windows screensaver. Since he sits in his cell for a vast majority of his day, he has nothing but time to think about you and ponder what he is yet to know about you. Honestly? There wasn’t much left.

“What one feeling fills you with dread?”, he asks. Your answers were meant to be as honest as possible, so you reply with the first thing that comes to your mind. Something that makes your stomach churn.

“Having to rely on other people, there was nothing I hated more in school that group projects”, you say with an almost disgusted expression. “I hate when people try to intervene when they don’t need to, I’ve always taken care of myself, I have to do everything for myself and I’m used to it, I know myself the best”

As always during your pinky power therapy sessions, you feel a slight relief after getting that out of you. Ironically enough, letting your emotions out and passing the weight over to Kai felt orgasmic, completely different than trying to deal with it yourself.

“It isn’t fair, is it?”

“No, just because you’re incapable of doing something yourself doesn’t mean I am”

“No”, Kai latches on straight after. “It isn’t fair that a woman like you should have to do everything herself, the world needs to stop being useless and learn how to help you”

You nod once in agreement, not sure how to interpret what he’s saying.

“Sit here”, Kai says before unlinking his finger from yours and patting the table in front of him. You hesitantly stand up and sit on the edge of the table, only for Kai to put his strong tattooed arms on your thighs and pull you closer to him. When you’re parallel to him, with your feet on his legs, he hums in approval and puts his hands behind you to pull your pants down, to which you comply. You lift yourself up off the table gently and he pulls your pants down, but leaves your bright red panties on, dropping your pants to the floor. When his eyes meet your underwear, he takes a big breath and slides his hands between your thighs, and tries to spread them.

“Let me do this for you”

He spreads your legs and takes a long look at your wettened underwear, before sitting back in his chair. You begin to get impatient as he simply sits and looks at your body, but finally when he looks deep into your eyes, your heart starts beating even faster.

“Touch yourself”

You bite the inside of your cheek and looks down at your thighs, before sliding your hands over them and squeezing them. Usually, foreplay and getting yourself turned on is the hardest part of masturbating, and you especially had troubles since your first sexual encounter with Kai. He set the bar so high that nothing you did to yourself could compare to the heavenly but rough touch from your first meeting. It was tough to admit it, but all orgasms since then suffered in comparison to the one after Kai made you ride his thigh. When you went home and thought about the lustful and forbidden love he gave you, your fingers didn’t have to do much to bring you over the edge, and even though the touch was yours, the orgasm belonged to him.

You rub your middle finger up and down your panties, making it instantly glisten, and look at Kai, hoping for encouragement, instead seeing him watch you impatiently with furrowed eyebrows.

“Rub your clit”

Every word that came out of his mouth turned you on, but still you questioned him.

“I don’t like being told what to do”

“No. You don’t like help. That’s very different”

His serious face was hard to say no to, and even though you didn’t exactly understand what he meant or where he was going, you still complied, and moved your underwear to the side. You place your fingers on your clit and rub slow circles, getting visibly more aroused when Kai looks down and watches. Masturbating wasn’t new to you but the feeling of being watched turned you on more than anything ever before. Already wanting more, you rub a little faster, cautious whether Kai will allow you to take control of the pace of not. You bite your lip as you touch yourself, your wetness dripping down, and making you hold in moans.

When your thighs almost close, Kai places his hands on them and grabs them tightly, spreading them wide open to his view. This encourages you to rub faster and though you feel hot with the impending orgasm, you wish with your whole body that he would take over. Just as that thought pops into your mind, Kai speaks up and his dark voice draws you in.

“Put a finger in”

You continue rubbing and hesitantly shake your head.

“I don’t like fingering”. Kai snickers at your response.

“If you don’t like it, you must not be doing it right”

You bite down harder on your lip when you hear that, aching for Kai to touch you, but to your surprise, he doesn’t and simply watches.

“Of course, I’d be more than happy to help”, Kai stands up and leans closer to you.

“But you don’t allow help, do you?”. His cockiness makes you shiver, and you struggle becoming fully submissive to him. The idea of begging was below you. But Kai knew the effect he had on you, and stood there with his eyebrow raised, waiting for you to break. It wasn’t a matter of whether you would, it was a matter of when.

“I’ll allow it”. You whisper to him, making him chuckle.

“You’re not doing me a favour”

You stop touching yourself, the feeling in your stomach long gone, and look away, not being able to look someone, anyone, in the eye and beg for them to help you. The weakness in admitting you can’t do something as good as somebody else was too much for you, no matter how wet you were for Kai.

“Please”. The pathetic sound was almost inaudible, but still clearly loud enough for Kai, who was a mere few centimetres away, to hear. But Kai isn’t going to let a chance to hear you beg slide. He leans closer to your ear.

“What was that?”

You breathe in a hitched breath and Kai cups your cheek to force you to look at him. His other hand remains on your thigh rubbing ever so slowly, making you implode out of impatience, and inches closer to your inner thigh. The burning feeling of his touch not where you want it breaks you.

“Please touch me”

Kai smirks and leans in to kiss you, brushing his lips against yours, making you desperate.

“Say it again”

“Please touch me, I beg”

Finally pleased, Kai leans back, spreads your legs and brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, making you put your arm around his neck, already knowing the long-lasting effects his touch will undoubtedly have on you.

“If you don’t like it, you’re not doing it right”

With that said once again, he plunges two fingers inside of you, and points them up, making you gasp and instantly try to close your legs. You fight against it, knowing how far Kai will go to prove his dominance. But he still notices, and wraps your legs around his torso, unable to shut, and thrusts his stiff fingers in and out of you. You hiss at the feeling and put your head against his chest, becoming completely lax and letting him do to you whatever he pleases. He curls them up and thrusts them faster, inviting the previous unfinished orgasm to return. You find yourself on the edge embarrassingly quickly, and when he places his thumb over your clit once more, you whine against his chest, hoping for him to tell you when to let go.

He puts his head on top of yours and moans in satisfaction at you clench around his fingers. He fingers you faster, eventually leaning into your neck, and using one word to send your body into bliss.

“Now”

You cum on demand for him, but he doesn’t slow his fingers, digging around inside of you, scooping all the wetness you give him and shoving it in and back out of you. You shake your legs around him and he holds one in his arm with a tight possessive grip.

Not giving you much time to recover, he forces you to stand up and spins you around. You put your hands on the table in front of you, covered in release, and Kai puts his large hand on your back and pushes you down, making you bend over the table. You ignore the cum inches away from your face, completely focused on the impending fucking you’re about to receive, bent over the table.

“Clean it up”

You try to look over your shoulder at Kai, but he pushes your neck further into the table, right in front of the pool of cum you left. You’re left baffled by his actions and furrow your eyebrows, trying to find the words to say, assuming that, surely, he isn’t insinuating that-

“Lick it clean”

“I’m not gon-”

Kai leans into your neck and barks, “You made the mess, you’re gonna clean it up”

He looks at you with his hypnotizing black eyes and an angry expression, before tangling your hair between his fingers and gripping it tightly. You look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to soften him up, before quickly accepting your fate, his eyes looking angrier by the second. Kai pulls your head up a little, holding his two fingers in front of your mouth. You open your mouth obediently, somehow not as grossed out by licking your cum off his fingers. He wriggles and thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, before slowly sliding them down, making you stick your tongue out to follow them.

He shoves your head into the table, cum immediately covering your tongue, and slides your head around. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, wanting to get it over and done with, and Kai mops up the mess you made by your hair, while your tongue remains frozen in place. When you’re almost done, he pulls your head up and pushes your tongue back in your mouth, covering your lips with his hand afterwards until you swallow. Which you do, almost instantly, avoiding as much of the taste as you can. He slowly lets go of your hair and smiles at your actions, while you straighten yourself out and look at him completely humiliated.

Kai nods towards your pants on the floor, and you pick them up and put them back on, looking the other direction. But Kai watches you get dressed, smiling at any negative feelings you may have. When you zip your pants up and run your hands down them to flatten them, Kai walks over to you and breathes into your neck.

“Maybe I can have a taste next time”

His words make your knees weak, and you nod at him, before promptly walking out of his cell and locking it.

Though the humiliation stays with you for the rest of the day, his words do too. The mental image lingers in your mind and you drive so distracted that you barely make it home that night. When you finally close the door behind you at your house, your mind still constantly on your special inmate, you get undressed slowly, feeling used and dirty but at the same time, ecstatic. Taking off your creased pants, you feel the pocket and a lightbulb lights up in your mind when you slither out the letter you were meant to give him. You mentally smack yourself for forgetting the one responsibility you had today, but your heart and thighs tingle, realizing you need to pop by his cell tomorrow.

--

Taglist- (dm me or comment to be added!)

@milly-louise @amourtentiaa @kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @therenlover @maria-akira @tatesimper @thxc0untessesgl0ve @mossybank @ahsxual @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan @kitwalkerangel @kitisagoldenretrieverboy

[dameronology]

one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

[littlesniggy]

Princess Part Two

Part Two of the Kid x princess reader and well...I might’ve gotten carried away a little but oh well. Thanks to @pure-kirarin​ for requesting this!  Btw, this plays either pre time skip or during the time skip since Kid still has both arms lol.

Part One is here!

Warning: 18+, smut, dirty talk, virgin reader

Word count: 4.4k

She was laying in her bed, her face still wet from crying the whole way back. Her clothes were dirty; she had slipped multiple times on and some scratches were visible on her arms and legs. She needed to cover them so no one would see them. Otherwise, they’d ask uncomfortable questions and she simply had no answer as to why she looked like this.

The sheets of her bed felt comforting and soothing but she couldn’t quite fall asleep; too many thoughts were running through her head and every single one revolved around Eustass Kid. To say her image of him and pirates in general had been shuttered was an understatement. Was he right? Had she been too influenced by all the stories she’s read? In them, pirates were criminals but in a charming way; they’d drink and have fun and play around with women but they never gave off that aura of danger. And still: some part in her wanted to know more about pirates, know more about their life, their ambitions, and motivation.

Kid said something about becoming the king of pirates; wasn’t this just a myth? Finding the One Piece? Gol D. Roger’s call to find it? She wasn’t sure but he seemed serious. And this part of him was the one that intrigued her the most. She closed her eyes and slowly but surely drifted off into a restless sleep, haunted by a certain bloodthirsty pirate captain.

It had been two nights since she encountered the Kid pirates and ever since she felt down and less ambitious. The prince, his father, and their entourage left yesterday. Finally, she had time for herself but it did her no good; her thoughts were still running wild, always returning to Eustass Kid. She even had a somewhat wet dream about him where she woke up breathing heavily and completely unsatisfied. She’s never been intimate before and her urge to be was rather non-existent – until now. Only the thought of him doing anything remotely sexual to her had little butterflies flying in her belly, making it incredibly difficult to focus.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of weapons clashing on weapons, loud yells calling to gather in front of the entrance and protect the king and the princess. She hurried to the big window and saw with horror how one guard after another got killed, their screams echoing through the night sky. She clasped her hands over her mouth but couldn’t move her eyes away from the horrid scene. The ones killing her people were none other than the Kid pirates. She saw weapons flying through the air and gathering around one person – Eustass Kid. All the weapons manifested into one huge weapon-arm he used to kill more of the guards.

She heard footsteps in front of her door and turned around, expecting pirates to storm in at any moment. But instead, two guards were rushing in, weapons ready to protect or fight. “Princess-sama! You need to get out of here! It’s too dangerous!” one yelled while the other one grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. “W-wait! What’s going on?” she demanded to know but followed the two guards down the stairs. “Pirates. They invaded the palace. Probably looking for treasure but we’re not sure. As long as they’re here you’re not safe, princess-sama.”

The stairs led down until they reached the dungeons where a safe-room was located. But they didn’t make it until there because in a flash the guard’s weapons were taken from them by what seemed like magic but when she turned around Captain Kid was standing there, a huge and sadistic grin in his face.

The guards positioned themselves in front of the princess but without any weapons they were defenseless. “Princess-sama! Please, keep going until you reach the safe-room! We will handle him!” the guard told him. The princess didn’t think twice before she turned around and ran through the long corridor. She didn’t make it far though because suddenly, she felt a hand grab her hair and yanking her back painfully.

“Just the princess I was looking for.” She heard a voice right next to her ear. “Let go” she screamed and tried to get free but his grip was like iron. “Stop struggling and be quiet. I only want your treasure, that’s all. If you’re a good little princess I’ll let you live.” He purred. “Y-you killed the guards! Why should I trust you?” tears were running down her face. This was definitely not how she had imagined their next meeting!

“Indeed, I have. But maybe I’ll make an exception for you? Can’t kill a princess now, can I?” it sounded sarcastic and she new he had no qualms killing her as well. “Now, tell me. Where do you hide your treasure? The sooner you tell me the sooner we’re on our marry way.” “How do I know you’re not lying?” “You just have to believe me.” He sounded amused at her question. “And by the way. Didn’t you say you wanted to join us? As a pirate you should be okay with robbing and killing people. That’s just part of a pirate’s life.” She pressed her lips together and felt stupid once again. Deep down, she had known this but she just didn’t want to accept it.

“So, tell me. Where is the treasure?” he repeated the question. “I-in the south tower, top floor, behind a huge door. Can’t miss it.” She pressed out and expected him to let her go. But Kid had other plans. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Let’s go.” And with a push she stumbled forward. He let go of her hair so technically she could run away but she knew he’d catch her. “Lead the way, princess.” He said while he followed her, his eyes running down her body while they were walking, appreciating the silky nightgown she was wearing which was running down her body like water.

The princess noticed but kept quiet about it. “W-where is my father?” she instead wanted to know. Kid shrugged, the grin still on his face. “Who knows.” He simply answered and she knew he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe he was already dead?

When they got to the entrance hall she heard yelling coming from all over the place but she couldn’t see her father. Kid pushed her forward with his hand, making her almost fall to the floor. “Keep moving, princess.” It sounded like an insult when he called her that but she wouldn’t complain. She heard him call some of his men who followed them up the stairs until they all reached the huge door guarding the treasure. The two guards were quickly disposed of and the princess couldn’t hold back a squeal.

Kid laughed at her reaction while the others opened the huge door, revealing lots and lots of gold, silver, jewels and precious gems. “That’s what I call a jackpot. Pack it up!” Kid ordered and shoved the princess with him to the side to not be in the way of his crew. Silently, they stood next to each other, Kid had his arms crossed in front of his chest, she looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. “Did we wake you?” Kid suddenly asked, his eyes still appreciating the treasure in the room. She stayed silent, not wanting to answer.

He turned his head towards her, his eyes wandering up and down once again. “You got a lot of those nightgowns, don’t you? You were wearing one two nights ago as well, weren’t you?” a blush creeped on her cheeks and she pulled her arms over her body to hide it from his few. “Don’t be shy! It looks good on you!” The red intensified even more and he could swear her head was about to pop like a tomato. “Show me your room.” He demanded. Shocked, she looked at him, eyes wide and mouth open. There it was again – the excited feeling in her stomach. Even though he had just killed more than a dozen if her men she still felt intrigued by him; his whole aura had her body drawn to him.

“C’mon. A little princess like you must have a huge room, right? Let me see it.” He insisted. There was no rational reason why she did it but she obliged. As if her body was out of rubber, she walked along corridors with doors to every side, legs daring to give in with every step. Kid walked behind her, she could feel his eyes on her body.

She stopped in front of the door, hesitant to turn the nob to open it. But Kid took over this part. His big hands grabbed the nob, turned it and opened the door. He pushed her inside and followed her right after. She heard him whistle but didn’t turn to look at him. Two clicks indicated he had closed and locked the door behind him. Now it was only the two of them, alone in her room, her only in her nightgown and underneath it only her panties.

“That’s a nice ass room. Being a princess has its perks, hasn’t it?” he passed her and took a look around her room. His eyes wandered over pictures showing her with her father, some friends and one with her mother when she was young. She expected him to ask about her but he didn’t. He simply didn’t care.

When he was done he walked towards her bed, sitting down in the mattress. His legs spread and his arms crossed in front of his chest. His grin was ever so present on his face and had her look away. “Why did you want to join us?” he asked out of nowhere. “I…I don’t know.” She answered truthfully, still not looking at him. “Bullshit! Did you think I didn’t notice your reaction? When I had my thumb buried in your mouth?” His grin grew even wider. “Did you hope for something more…filling?” he laughed at her shocked expression when she turned to look at him.

“Now is your chance, princess. I can almost smell your pussy from here and believe me she wants me.” He said cockily, way too full of himself. But he was right. Ever since he asked her to see her room she had thought about all the things they could do in there – and none of her thoughts were G-rated. “C’mere.” He demanded.

Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other and made her way over to where he was sitting. She stopped in front of him, her sight set on the floor. Even though she was standing was he almost as tall as her when he was sitting. “Have you ever knelt down in front of anyone else?” he asked. She shook her head no and received a dark chuckle. “Then it’s time you learn how to do it. Get on your knees, princess.” His tone was demanding and left no room for arguing.

With trembling limps, she got down, took her place between his legs. Pleased, he hummed. “That’s a nice sight, princess. You look good on your knees. As if you were made to kneel down.” “Stop saying that.” She whispered, completely embarrassed by his words. Kid laughed out loud at her wish. “But it’s the truth, princess. Now, get down to business.” He demanded but she didn’t follow his order. Kid raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you hear me? Go, suck my dick, princess.” He clarified but again she didn’t move. The princess bit her lower lip, seeming like she wanted to say something but too embarrassed to say it out loud. Kid grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. “What is it, princess? Spit it out or get going!” She averted her gaze but after receiving a slight slap to her cheek she answered.

“I….I have never been….intimate….with a man before.” She whispered, barely audible. The captain made a surprised sound but didn’t let go of her chin. “A virgin, huh? That’s rare. But I like it.” With his other hand he opened his pants, freeing his semi-erect member from its restraints. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through everything.” His thumb circling his huge mushroom head. The princess took a quick glance at his dick before looking away, cheeks blushed once more.

“You can look. It gets him excited, y’know.” Kid purred. She hesitated for a moment but then looked back at his dick which twitched in response, slowly becoming harder and harder. “Good girl.” He praised. He let go of her chin and instead took one of her wrists between his fingers and guided her hand towards his member. Before she could touch it, she tried pulling back instinctively but his grip was too strong. “Don’t be shy. Touch him.” He encouraged her and simultaneously pulled her hand closer until he wrapped her hand around his dick, his hand covering hers.

She gasped at the touch. It felt warm and…weird, as if it was some kind of animal. But it made her pussy wet at the same time, making her rub her thighs together. “You like how it feels?” he started to move his hand around hers so she was stroking him. He pressed his hand down, showing her how he liked it. Her legs kept rubbing against each other and she didn’t know what to do about her growing wetness.

“Touch yourself, princess.” His demand came out of nowhere. “What?” she asked bus his grin told her she had heard him right. “I said: touch yourself. I can see you want to.” Her cheeks were burning and she couldn’t move. “Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you haven’t!”

“W-well….n-not really.” God! This must be his lucky day! Fist the treasure and now this!

“Then let me teach you how to do it….Follow my orders, princess.” Her eyes were uncertain but he knew she would obey his orders. She was way too curious.

“Are you wearing panties?” she nodded hesitantly. “Good.” His hand kept holding hers in place, still stroking him.

“Move your hand between your legs and rub your index and middle finger over your panties where your pussy is.” Her hand slowly moved down between her legs and she gasped when she touched herself. “Tell me, are you wet?” his grin was now predatory. He leaned down to be closer to her face. The princess nodded shyly. “Good. Now move your hands in your panties and feel your cunt. Tell me how it feels.” She followed this order as well and a small moan escaped her lips when she touched herself. “How does it feel?” he demanded to know.

“W-wet….hot.” he grunted at her words, closing his eyes for a moment. “Good girl. Do you feel the little nub?” her fingers glid over said nub and she jerked away a little. “Circle it with your finger.” A whimper escaped her lips and she had to close her eyes at the sensation. She felt how her juice coated her pussy even more, making small sounds while she moved her finger over her clit. Kid squeezed her hand slightly and gasped at the feeling. “Do you feel how you’re getting wetter? Does it feel good, princess?”

“Y-yes.” She moaned. Kid picked up the pace at his dick and her hand between her legs followed his pace.

“Do you think you’re wet enough now? Are you dripping?” his voice filled her head and she could only nod. “Push your finger inside.” The princess opened her eyes and looked at him, stopping for a moment. “B-but what if-“ but he cut her off. “Just do it, princess.” His harsh tone made her whimper and her pussy clenched around nothing. Slowly, she moved over her slit and inserted one finger, making a slightly uncomfortable sound. “Try rubbing your clit.” It was difficult and she had her hand at a slightly awkward angle but managed to circle her clit with her thumb. Her legs opened wider when she started moving her finger in and out, the feeling of herself around her finger was weird and exciting at the same time.

His hand picked up the pace around his shaft once more and her hand followed suit. “When you’re ready put another finger in. Spread them.” “Ah!” another small moan when she entered a second finger, scissoring them and also curling them inside of her, moving them in and out of her pussy. The moans came out more frequently now and she hand to rest her cheek against his thigh, watching their hands pump his dick with hooded eyes. It was so hot, she didn’t know where to put her lust. Kid grunted, his eyes never leaving her frame.

“Such a good, slutty princess. Following a pirate’s orders to please herself.” He praised, making her moan again. She started moving her hips up and down on her finger, her moans getting louder and louder. Kid laughed at her action, licking his lips at the sight. “That’s right, princess. Fuck yourself on your fingers. Ride them like it’s my dick.” Another moan. Her movements became frantic and he knew she was close. It was now or never. He let go of her hand and put his hand on the back of her head. “Open up!”

She had no time to think before he pushed his huge dick inside her mouth, almost choking her. Her eyes were wide open and she tried to get away but he wouldn’t let her. “Breath through your nose, princess. And don’t forget fucking yourself.” The problem was not her breathing – at least not her primary. Her gag-reflex had kicked in and it took all her will power not to puke. Kid started moving her head between his legs, low grunts rumbling thorough his body. “Fuck.” He grunted.

The princess listened to his grunts and it somehow got her distracted from the uncomfortable feeling on her tongue. She also started moving her fingers inside of her again, soon getting back the feeling inside or her that indicated her coming orgasm. She moaned around his dick, entering a third finger. His dick moved in and out of her mouth at the same pace, his mushroom head bumping against the backside of her throat; spit was dripping down her chin, his pre-cum salty on her tongue. With two more pushes of her fingers did she clench around herself, cumming hard and coating her fingers.

Kid stopped his movements a little bit unwillingly when she came but he watched her come down from her (probably) first orgasm. He removed his dick from her mouth and grabbed her chin once more, making her look up at him. “Show me your hand.” He whispered. With a small whimper she pulled out her fingers and slowly raised her hand with shaky limbs. Her fingers were coated in her juice and kid licked his lips, then grabbed her hand and closed his lips around her fingers, sucking on them. His tongue swirled around them, licking up every little bit of her cum.

She could only watch in amazement, brains till a little foggy from her high. When he was down, he let her fingers go with an audible plop. “Slutty princess, making such a mess while masturbating. Dirty, dirty little bitch.” His grin took in almost all of his face, that’s how satisfied he was with her job. But he wasn’t done yet…

“Get naked, princess. The main part is about to start.” He purred. “W-what? But I just…I just-“ “I’m gonna make you come again. You’ll like it since you’re such a little whore.” His words made her clench around nothing once more and she knew he would be true to his word. She got up, legs still shaky but she managed to stand in front of him. Her hands moved over her body, down to the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up over her head, exposing her breasts, the nipples hard from her arousal. Kid hummed in appreciation and couldn’t help himself but grab her tits in his hands and fondle them quite roughly.

“K-Kid…” she moaned and leaned into his touch. He leaned closer and took one of her nipples between his lips, sucking and biting at it. She threw her head back and had her eyes closed. “P-please….be gentle.” He looked up at her, licking her nipple before grinning again. “Can’t promise that.” He said and dedicated himself to her other nipple while his hand massaged her breast. His rough hands felt incredibly on her skin and the excited feeling between her legs came back.

The pirate noticed and looked down at her still clothed sex. “Take it off. I wanna see all of you, princess.” His voice was coarse from arousal and had her shiver in excitement. Her hands moved to her panties and pulled the, down, exposing her wet sex. Kid licked his lips at the sight and just had to take a lick by leaning forward. She moaned because of the sensitivity but jerked her hips forward, pressing herself closer to his mouth.  

“So eager.” He murmured against her clit before teasing it with his tongue a little. The princess was afraid she might lose her balance and fall but Kid Kid wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her up, the other one grabbed the back of her knee and pulled it up to have better access. His mouth now savored her pussy, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh and having her moan above him.

“K-Kid! I-it’s too much!” she whined and moaned at the same time, not knowing if she liked it or hated it. Just in this moment a knock on the door could be heard. Kid grumbled in discontent. “What?” he barked. “When are you done, captain?” he heard Killer’s voice from the other side. “Fuck off. I’m in the middle of eating dessert!” her cheeks turned pink again but she couldn’t think straight when he sucked at her clit once more, making her moan.

They heard a Killer clear his throat on the other side and then his leaving footsteps.

“Naughty princess. Letting him hear you moan.” He teased. Kid pulled away from her sex and threw her on the mattress instead. She looked up at him, body heaving, legs slightly spread, exposing her wet pussy. “Such a nice view.” He complimented. The princess sucked on her lips, knowing what was about to happen. Should she really let a pirate take her virginity? She was promised to the prince, was engaged and about to get married. Should she throw this away? But Kid was already above her, his body like a blanket covering her own. He had lined himself up with her pussy, ready to push in.

“Take a deep breath, princess. This’s gonna hurt.” And with these words he pushed forward, sinking into her wet and hot pussy. A painful scream escaped her mouth and she clawed at his muscular arms, trying to find some support for her pain. But Kid showed no pity and pushed himself in completely. Her whole body was tense and she tried to push the foreign body away but the pirate was too strong. “Relax.” He huffed before he started to move inside of her.

“It hurts!” she pressed out, eyes shut tightly. “Stop whining. It’s gonna feel better soon!” Maybe. He thought to himself and grinned. Now was his turn.” His movements were sharp and hard, his dick moving in and out of her. It was a great feeling, especially since he knew he was the very first to thrust into her. Her face looked tense and he knew she was in pain. She was probably bleeding as well but why should he care? She had her orgasm and he wanted his. Well, maybe he could help her a little.

One of his hands moved down between their legs and started rubbing at her clit, making her jerk against his touch. “Good girl. Keep moving against me.” She whimpered, the pain slowly moved to the back of her mind thanks to his finger in her clit. She bucked her hips against his thrusts, making him grunt and curse with each thrust. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth at high speed, making it hard for her to keep up with his pace. She moaned, eyes closed and her arms were next to her head after she had let go of his arms. Her body was shuffled over the sheets, her body sweaty from all the feelings inside of her.

With each thrusts she got closer and closer to her next orgasm, her voice hoarse from moaning and screaming. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him closer to her and pressing him deeper inside of her. With a last, loud scream she came around his dick, clenching around his thick meat and making him groan in pleasure.

Breathlessly, she laid underneath him, slowly getting her breath back under control. Kid had stopped moving; he looked down at her, had watched her face twitch in pleasure while she rode his dick through her orgasm. It was really hot; he wouldn’t lie but he wasn’t done yet.

“Little princess cumming around my dick like a whore. What an exciting sight. I like it. But I’m not finished yet. Let’s see if I can make you cum a third time. After all, three’s the lucky charm.”

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Her whole body felt sore; her body was covered in dark bruises left by his mouth, her breasts and lower body was covered in his semen, dripping down onto the sheets. She felt used and dirty but at the same time completely satisfied.

Kid had left a while ago, the castle was silent. Before he left he had praised her for being such an obedient little princess who took in his dick so well. Alone remembering those words made her smile. She knew she would most likely never see him again but that was fine; after all, he taught her how to pleasure herself and that was enough. At least for now. Maybe she would teach her soon to be husband how to pleasure her.