#they also tend to get so loud around him to the point where he’s visibly stressed and covering his ears

[hilaom]

neurotypicals stop forcing low functioning autistic family members to hug / kiss you challenge (impossible apparently)

[alastair-1205]

Ok ok ok so. God this movie. I have 2 details I don't think anyone else has pointed out just yet, the first one being about Goldie. (And please excuse my shitty pictures idk how people are getting high quality screenshots without the website going nuts about sharing stuff but whatever)

This one's pretty small but in this scene here where Goldie is a kid, she's humming some thing that I'm pretty sure is actually part of Puss' "theme song". This could have certain implications about timelines and how much time passed between events depending on how you look at it. Really I just it as proof that Puss would have a longer lifespan than a normal cat since he was really only established as a 'legend' after his first movie and even if Goldie was a kid during the Shrek movies (which would be ignoring some things from the first Shrek) that's still a fairly long time.

2nd detail is during the big fight right before Puss' panic attack. Something I've never really seen anyone bring up is just how overwhelming that fight probably was for him. It's more dangerous than the one at the pie factory since they're trying to save Perrito and not just retreat with the map, there's a lot more people, and a lot of those people are literally dying around him

The confetti from Jack's men blowing up is making Puss sneez and is visibly disorienting to him, not to mention that being so close to that much death is probably freaking him out even if he's not fully aware of that until Death shows up.

When he hits the ground here right before Death starts whistling, Puss' ears are already ringing from the impact and how loud everything is. Also, he's a cat, so I can't imagine the sensitive hearing and sense of smell and such is helping him in that moment lol.

I bring this up because I think Puss being overwhelmed combined with Death showing up is what pushed him past the line into full blown panic attack territory when before and after that moment in the movie he tends to just run away while in his panic. I think the overload on his senses is what made it so debilitating that time around.

Anyways detail rant over. This movie is fucking amazing I've seen it like 5 times and I love it so so much and I'm glad it's getting that attention it deserves.

[nicolesainz]

take it off and maybe we’ll get along (cs 55)

Carlos Sainz x f!reader

Warnings: smut, sexual themes, sub reader x dom carlos, minors dni, foreplaying, angst, 2% of fluff

Summary: things tend to get heated when your and his favorite team play against

“Mi amor, are you coming down soon? We’re going to be late!” Carlos shouts from the living room as loud noises echo from the television.

“Okay! I’m ready. We can go now” I show up from our room, with my bag on one hand and my hoodie on the other.

Carlos and I have been invited to a bowling game that Charles organized with Lando, George, Alex, Lily, Pierre and Kika. We agreed that it would be nice for the boys to take some time out and for us girls to have fun altogether.

Carlos stands up, closing the Tv. As he turns around his smiley face darkens and turns into a serious, deadly one, as if I had done the most unearthly crime ever.

“Cariño, what are you wearing? He comes closer to me and I can clearly understand why he asks me that question, following his sudden change of expression.

“What? Don’t I look nice? I thought, since we won’t watch the game, I could root for my team by wearing my jersey” Carlos’s eyes scan me from head to toe, with flames flaring out of them.

At some point his eyes get fixed at the place in my chest where the badge of the team is standing. His index finger starts tracing it slowly, whilst his eyes rise and lock with mine. The soft brown that used to light has been taken over by a darker shade, sending shivers all over my body.

“What are you doing?” I let out with a shaky breath, almost whispering the words as he continues to shape each letter that is on my shirt and hits beneath my chest. His hand goes back up and lands on my heart that is currently beating very rapidly.

“What makes your heart beat faster? A single touch of mine or a glorifying win of your team?” At this point my nipples had gone hard, even through my bra and they were visible enough to his eyes. Also me tiptoeing to reach his height made my answer more clear.

I couldn’t utter a single letter and only deep breathing would come out of my mouth. Carlos knows that under certain circumstances has me wrapped under his pinky and I could never say no.

“How about, we took this shirt of yours off and test my theory, huh?” Before I even replied, his hands had gone under my shirt, caressing my skin. My eyes were shut and enjoying the sensation of his fingertips leaving tingles and sparks.

“Carlos, we need to-“ his mouth softly landed on my neck, started leaving wet kisses and sucking my skin, caressing with his tongue the spots he would leave his mark on.

“How about, you let me take care of my baby for tonight?” He whispers breathing deep on my neck and causing me to let out a soft groan. I didn’t have to agree or say anything. This was more than a confirmation to him.

“Wonderful” Carlos picked me up with one hand and with the other removed my shirt, pulling it from the hem and tossing it away. His lips attach to mine in a hungrily way, as both of his hands now, make their way towards underneath my thighs, holding me firmly.

I can feel his arousal growing against me and my excitement skyrockets. Breathing seems like an unnecessary task when all I could do is kiss him until my very last moment.

We reach our bedroom but instead of landing on the bed, he guides us to the bathtub. He helps me land back on my feet and starts playing with the hem of my leggings. His finger grabs the lace of my underwear.

“Strip for me amor. Strip until I fall on my knees for you. Strip until you start begging for forgiveness” he commands and I place my hands on my thighs, slowly pulling down my leggings. Carlos unbuckles his trousers and tosses them next to the bed. I have never seen him remove his Real Madrid jersey so hastily.

His beautifully strong built body, is a sight for sore eyes. The v-line showing off makes my eyes roll and I am slowly unbuttoning my bra, leaving myself exposed and extremely aroused.

“Leave them on baby. I wanna have the pleasure of striping you fully” he refers to my underwear, as he places me on the stand of the sink, separating my legs from one another.

His mouth lands on my thighs, kissing and licking them furiously, until he reaches the hem of my panties. His eyes make their path towards mine and as I am trying to control my breathing, Carlos exhales softly,

"I want eyes on me cariño. I want you to see how good I can make you feel. Until you drop on your knees for me" the seductiveness in his voice sends tingles all over my spine, causing me to bend more and open up my legs.

His teeth grab the hem and fiercely pulls down my panties, revealing my full names body to his eyes, which are sparkling once they take a good look of my embrace. The only person that can make me feel good about myself is Carlos. His words, his touch and kisses are my addiction, that I never want to give up.

"Qué belleza eres" (what a beauty you are). Do you remember our safe word, amor? I need to make sure I can worship you properly. And that consists any possible ways of fucking you and making you cum" my brain almost shuts off by his words, expecting the unexpected from him.

His fingers slowly creeped inside my already wet core, making me bite back a moan I was holding on for dear life.

“Oh how I adore this wetness of yours. Always ready for me” he mumbled against my lips, as his tongue was attacking mine, dancing softly against each other.

The pace became faster and faster making me clench even harder than before between his fingers. It was just the beginning and I needed more.

“Oh my darling, what do you desire?” Carlos took another quick look at my nakedness and flushed cheeks because of his touch. A smirk was shaped on his lips, casing my eyes to roll back again. I was trying to catch my breath but my fists were too occupied with the bedsheets.

“You. Forever you” I managed to let out, when I felt my hands being removed from the sheets, and being placed onto Carlos’s bare ass.

“I want us to cum together. I want you to touch me and be in command” his words shocked me as he usually was the one with the upper hand.

I kissed him once more softly, deepening the moment as much as I could, whist my hands were running all over his cheeks and thighs, pushing him inside my womanhood, wanting to fill my pussy at its maximum.

“Fucking hell. Keep up Y/N. I need you baby” Carlos breathed out as he was forcing himself even deeper inside of me, hitting my soft spot, earning a loud moan of his name that echoed through the room.

“Oh my word! Carlos!” I was in the seventh heaven, with his fingers playing with my aroused and hardened nipples. My fingers though were running through his long hair that had grown since the last Grand Prix.

“I’m so close cariño. You’re making me feel so good” he groaned in between licking my nipples and I was on the verge too. Love making with Carlos was one of my favorite things to do with him.

“I need you to get up and look at me” he commanded as his thrusts were getting faster and faster, because we couldn’t keep up anymore.

My legs were curled against his waist and I could feel his entire length inside me, filling me up with with every single of his juices, while I was covering his cock with my cum.

Carlos’s hands roamed through my hair, before landing back on my cheeks, caressing then softly with a kiss along the way. I always loved this version of Carlos. Soft, tender and angelic.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you, my love. You were amazing” his eyes were full of concern and my heart fluttered against his chest.

“You could never Carlos. You’re only making me happier as days go by!” I gift him a big smile and he wraps my entire body into a an equally big hug.

“I think we missed the date with the guys” I let out giggling, seeing all the texts from Kika and Lily worried as to where I am.

“And I think that we found a better way to spend our afternoon. One that we both enjoyed much more” Carlos winked at me playfully, earning a final giggle from me, before we restored to our calmness and peace against each other.

[lexirosewrites]

(Here's the kinda long Slick Sunday ask I promised before!!)

So, Lady Kailitha has a fic where Steve is a "golden Omega", which just means that he isn't able to have pups normally, but in exchange his possibilities of getting pregnant during a heat skyrocket.

Now, I was half asleep when I thought of this, but!! Dark omegas.

They are as unusual as they're rejected, physiologically there's nothing different about them, psychologically...

Let's say that they're kinda intense.

These kinds of Omegas imprint on an Alpha seemingly at random and will stop at nothing to get with them.

Of course some omegas have shown more self restraint in these sorts of situations, each individual might vary in their willingness to commit crimes, for example, some omegas might commit murder if their chosen alpha mates someone else, some others might choose to take their own lives, others might lock themselves for the rest of their lives, etc, etc.

When they successfully mate their beloved these omegas tend to be the sweetest, nicest people you've met... Unless they feel you're a threat to their bond.

No one is actually sure what triggers this kinda instincts, as the studies have shown they show up no matter the demographic, income or lifestyle.

Enter Steve. A packless Omega suffering of isolation sickness meets Eddie, a nice dude who was just trying to help the guy who looked about to kneel over and, coincidentally, an Alpha.

Steve gets one(1) whiff of Eddie's scent and his Omega instincts go overdrive, deciding in that exact moment that this random guy is going to be their mate. No. Matter. What.

So it starts small, with Eddie taking care of Steve for a bit, just until the omega feels well enough to get home, but before he leaves Steve asks for the Alpha's name and phone number. (And if Steve leaves that interaction with a new hanky for his nest? That's nobody's business)

And Eddie is a weak man in the face of a pretty guy, so he gives it to him.

Then Steve starts inserting himself into Eddie's life under the excuse that Eddie saved his life (not that he's wrong.....), so Steve MUST pay him back, with cookies!

Eventually it gets to the point where Steve actually gets to meet Eddie's friends, a few guys that are also in a band with him, all of Eddie's sheepies.

Omg, imagine one of the hellfire guys is a Omega and Steve is going insane(/neg) about it, he low-key wants to murder the other guy, but knows the dude is like Eddie's brother (even if his instincts disagree), so Steve calms himself down by breaking into Eddie's trailer and Scenting every piece of fabric he can get his hands on, but he gets so engrossed in his task that he misses when Eddie gets home, only to find Steve, on his floor rubbing his clothes to the Omega's scent glands, Eddie is both endeared and horny about it.

Eddie's entire room now smells like a mix of both of their scents and a bit like Omega Slick, Steve clearly enjoying his task, even if he's not bothering to stop.

So once Steve finally realizes Eddie is there, he immediately gets upset bc Eddie smells like another Omega, and Steve hates that, Eddie is HIS Alpha, and his inner Omega is in so much distress he actually says some of it out loud, so Eddie of course does the only reasonable thing and allows himself to be thoroughly scented by Steve.

And maybe that's when they start courting, and Steve is overjoyed, so much so that he immediately starts getting making bold, visible claims over Eddie so everyone else gets discouraged.

(Maybe the next day Eddie tells the corroded coffin guys like "isn't Stevie the cutest 🥰🥰" while the band is like "😰😰 Eddie no"

From then on Cc fears Steve just a bit)

After he begins hanging out with Eddie and friends Steve is clearly happier than ever, and it's around this time when a bunch of middle schoolers (one of them was even his ex's little brother, life is so weird....) get attached to Steve.

Steve's Omega is thrilled to have so many pups around him. And soon begin the jokes about Steve and Eddie being the pups parents, which are doing nothing for his obsession, if anything, it's making it worse.

(This is just like, a piece of info that occurred to me later on, and I was like. This isn't going to be knowledge for the characters, this is for my own need to know™ but I think the Dark Omegas! Psychological response is basically an attachment to the first alpha they "imprint" during isolation sickness, a moment when they feel extremely vulnerable and could literally die.

So imagine, isolation sickness is something that can happen to anyone, but most of the time it happens to omegas, who don't realize they have it because it's not a widely spread knowledge, most of the time it gets misdiagnosed as something different.

And most of the Omegas who suffer from it commit suicide out of sheer despair or just pass away from the sickness.

Most alphas find easy cures because their society favors them, while Betas don't have that much propensity to it.

So imagine Steve is the Omega son of a beta pair, so when he asked for affection his parents told him he was being too needy and annoying, so Steve found affection somewhere else in the form of Tommy and Carol, and then all the girls he dated, until he presented while dating Nancy Wheeler, his first love who dumped him not long after.

And now Steve is completely alone, his parents are on a vacation on god-knows-where, Tommy and Carol left soon after Nancy disapproved of them, and Nancy had left him for a different Omega.

Hence the isolation sickness.)

And idk, I've been brainstorming this thing for like 2 weeks now, and I'm getting sick of looking at it, so I hope you enjoy it.

I support omega rights, but more importantly, I support omega wrongs🥰 Steve should get his alpha, no matter the cost to anyone else!

[sullustangin]

So ridiculous question: Did Valkorion ever come out while Eva and Theron were having sex?

This made me laugh out loud! Thanks for the larf; I've needed it due to IRL stuff. <3

Ok, so, the short answer is NO. Valky is repulsed by Theron and tends to go mope in his prison in Eva's head whenever our favorite spy shows up. He wants NOTHING to do with her private life. Theron is icky to him, and he'd rather gargle razor blades and iodine than get an eyeful.

~~

The slightly longer answer in my universe: I imagine that Valkorion screwed up when he picked Eva to be his host. At the time, a Force User made sense, but he's done that before -- booooring. Plus there's no crueler way to further fuck up your not-favorite son than to create a vessel that can kick his ass -- and can't even use the Force naturally. Smugglers are greedy and weak-minded -- this will be easy.

Valkorion didn't anticipate that the vessel could not only hold him but trap him. He thought he could just take up residence, upgrade Eva's arsenal and give her Force abilities, then take the Throne back. No biggie, even if Arcann did chuck her in a freezer for five years. ....but then Valkorion found that he couldn't just take control. He couldn't do what he did on Ziost.

Is he weaker? Is she stronger than Jedi Masters (at least the Hero of Tython in Act 2 and the Sixth Line)? In my universe, it's a bit of both.

Valkorion picked the most stubborn, Force-null, immune-to-manipulation criminal in the galaxy. This is known in the game since we see at least 2 instances (one on Tatooine and one in an FP) where the Smuggler laughs off an attempt to influence them, much to the Sith's consternation. Combine that with the loss of power that the Emperor had when the Valkrion body was slain; I don't think all of the Emperor's power went to the Outlander in a 1:1 transfer.

Valky lost something when he died, and Eva is particularly resistant to the Force. She can tossed around by it, like any visible object, but her own presence in it isn't particularly strong. I've headcanoned that Force Users can't just sense her Life Force, reach out, and grab her; Miraluka have trouble perceiving her and extensive cyborgs like Arn (another headcanon of mine). Direct line of sight in the same room? Yes, she can be acted upon, but it's not as easy as it could be. Force Users also can't do stuff like Force Choke her across a commlink, like Vader does. Eva is difficult to act upon, if that makes sense. Valkorion can talk to her, but it takes a lot of effort; this is why he's sometimes there, sometimes not.

We see in KotFE several instances where Valkorion exerts himself to save the Outlander's life -- because it saves his life. I imagine that he does exhaust himself in these expenditures, which causes him to go silent for much of the six months between KotFE and KotET. As much as Eva is stuck with Valkorion in her head, Valkorion is equally unable to leave, and he is NOT HAPPY about Eva's lifestyle overall.

Valkorion is not going to waste his energy and make himself want to drink bleach by interrupting sexy time. Also, if he was going to do a body hijack prior to the Throne, the last person he'd do it in front of would be Theron. Theron may be an inferior being for lacking the Force, but he is perceptive. It's a combination of Theron being brilliant at analysis and observation (spy and operations manager), but also the love factor. I do imagine Valkorion loved Senya at some point, and people in love notice their partner -how they move, what they do when they're in a mood, etc. Valkorion is just smart enough to know Theron would catch on fast if Eva wasn't herself. He was human, once, after all.

[animeyanderelover]

Bleach embarrassing moment headcanon when Ichigo Kurosaki, Orihime ( separately) were sort on a date and his/her darling completely forgot that she had her ringtone up on high volume in the yanderes bedroom. The darling was in a major panic when realising and almost dropped her phone on the floor when she tries to turn it off...the darling apologised for her impolite behavior afterwards. The darling promised the yandere that she would teach her/him how to cook and that happened when she almost sliced her finger with the knife when the phone rang, loudly...(thankfully the yandere was nice about it)

https://youtu.be/t4aeNBX3jm0 (That was the ringtone of the phone)

Alright, I expected something much worse as a ringtone but this is low-key relaxing.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsession

I forgot to turn the volume of my phone down!

Kurosaki Ichigo

🧡Honestly, it’s a nice little date up until the moment where you start panicking because of your ring tone. You two decide to meet in Ichigo’s house where you have promised him to teach him how to cook. It isn’t like Ichigo is a bad cook but he thinks that you’re better than him and that’s why you’ve decided to teach him a bit. You’re currently cutting some vegetables and he’s watching you so he can try right away too when suddenly a loud music fills the house. For the split of a second Ichigo is confused what that music is. His darling on the other hand does a visible jump when hearing the sound, the knife she was previously using to chop vegetables cutting dangerously close to her finger.

🧡It’s enough to startle her again as she curses before storming to Ichigo’s room. Ichigo, still confused but also slightly worried because of your reaction, follows you, asks you what’s wrong. When you slam the door to his bedroom open, search hastily in your back and pull out your phone, he realizes that the loud noise is your ringtone. You curse under your breath as you try to turn the ringing off, nearly drop your phone before fumbling around to catch it. When you finally manage to turn your phone off you turn to Ichigo who is just looking at you…and then proceed to apologize for being so rude and forgetting to turn off your phone.

🧡You’re so embarrassed, it’s written all over your face. Ichigo just stares at you as everything that just happened kind of finally processes inside his mind. And then he suddenly tries to suppress his laughter which earns him your confused glare. This is why you were suddenly so panicked? Don’t worry him like this, he thought this was something much more serious. Ichigo finds this whole situation a bit hilarious, especially you getting so worked up over your ringtone to the point where you nearly cut your finger. He tells you it’s nothing to worry about and proceeds to go back to the kitchen with you so you two can continue where you stopped. He’s likely to tease you a bit for your comedic reaction though.

Inoue Orihime

🧚‍♀️You know that your girlfriend tends to mix together a rather peculiar mix of food and whilst you know it’s part of her adorable quirkiness, you want her to be able to cook some healthier food too. So you two decide on a date where both of you buy groceries and then head to her apartment where you will teach her some simple and healthy dish. Orihime loves dates between you two and finds the idea of cooking together and then enjoying the meal romantic and cute too. She really wants to do well, you see how hard she’s concentrating because she wants you to find her food yummy. It’s such a peaceful atmosphere with a few giggles in between until this melody starts playing out of the blue.

🧚‍♀️Inoue looks up confused but quickly turns around when she hears your surprised and shocked gasp, turns her gaze around quick enough to see how the metal of the knife barely misses your finger. Or maybe not, it all happens way too fast. Because the very next moment you’re sprinting to her bedroom, seemingly don’t hear her worried question if you just sliced yourself with the kitchen knife. Your girlfriend runs behind you, quite worried by your sudden panic that overcame you. She expects something bad when she reaches her room shortly after you. You on the other hand pull our your phone quickly out and nearly drop it in the process before catching it and typing wildly around on it.

🧚‍♀️Then the melody stops and you let out a relieved sigh. Orihime is still confused but you’ve busy apologizing to her for a reason she is still unaware off. She cuts you off, asks you what has happened just now. Then you finally explain to her that you forgot to turn your volume down and that for that reason your ringtone was way too loud. You feel bad that you’ve disrupted the date like this but Orihime reassures you that it’s fine. She tells you that if the call was from someone important you should call back and also wants to see your finger to see if you’ve really hurt yourself. She won’t make fun of you for it either. She actually mentions that she likes your ringtone.

[that-one-dork]

Letter ask meme!

@vaudeville-moggie

M: when it rains/snows/storms

E: sharing a drink

Fandom: TMNT (VIY AU)

Timeline: sometime in a recovery period

(This could potentially count as a spoiler I guess? Definitely later than the point the story is at now though lol)

(Also I did not reread to fix possible mistakes so sorry if things are odd or something!)

___

The first crack of lightning struck an outside tree and charred the thinner sections of it. April gazed out the window of the farmhouse and watched blackened leaves disintegrate into the night. She glanced over at Casey, who was asleep on the couch. Outbursts and accidental clawing have worn down the furniture quite noticeably. Screws and boards and stuffing could be seen wherever she looked.

One of those cartoons with an odd amount of fourth wall-breaking foreshadowing was playing on the tv. Mikey was seated on the floor, slit-pupil eyes trained on the illuminated pixels. He rocked back and forth slightly. He’s been quieter since…the incident. Perhaps self conscious of his lesser control over his hissing of the letter ‘s’. Or…something else, anything else, really. It wasn’t like he was going to open up anytime soon. April looked at the floorboards in front of his spot and took note of the scratches dug into the wood. The once-smooth floor tended to feel the consequences of the more exciting series’s.

The surveillance of everyone couldn’t be ignored, but exhaustion was beginning to creep up. April yawned and ran a hand through her hair. Looking at Casey again, she decided to let him sleep. She trudged to the kitchen with coffee on her mind. A torn blue bandana laid on the table, a clawed hand resting tamely on the cloth. “Hey, Leo,” April greeted the mutant, who nodded in response. She studied his slouched form. “Why don’t you get some rest?” she suggested.

“I, egh, I need to train more. I need to better control this.” His resting hand curled around the torn mask.

April frowned. “Cmon, you need sleep, too. You can’t heal mentally or physically if you don’t give yourself time to rest.” She studied her friend’s expression and faltered upon noticing the lasting resolve on his face. “…Will you at least let me make you some tea?”

Hesitantly, Leo nodded, and asked, “Do we have the lavender tea?” April walked to the cupboard and gave a thumbs up upon spotting the little labeled box. She pulled out a semi-translucent tea bag as well as a canister of instant coffee grounds. She placed down the metal canister but held onto the tagged bag. A hand found the container of evaporating melatonin pills and discreetly slipped one into the leafy mixture. She shook it slightly to hide it and placed the tea bag on the counter with the canister.

Upon placing the kettle on the heated stove, it didn’t take long for the metal device to whistle with steam. April turned off the burner and set two porcelain cups on the counter. She carefully poured boiling water into each and added the two mixes. While waiting for the tea to steep she stirred the coffee grounds around to speed up their assimilation with the water. After a few minutes the soggy bag was removed and thrown out. Leo watched as April placed the two cups in their respective spots. He softly gave a “thanks” with a small nod of his head and proceeded to sip the herbal liquid.

Thunder crashed overhead with a loud reverberating boom. Leo jolted with a startled gasp. Steaming tea spilled onto his hand. His yelp fused with a hiss and he aggressively shook his hand to get some of the hot liquid off. Scales became more visible across his body and his arm seemed to shift in form slightly, his pupils shifting to pinpricks as momentary pain and panic took hold. April shot up from her seat and grabbed a paper towel. She wetted it under the sink faucet and hurriedly placed it where the tea was burning Leo’s hand. The mutant looked up and they held a gaze for a few seconds. Leo relaxed a little and glanced away. He removed the damp paper towel and simply shed away the reddish and mildly burned area.

Quietly the two continued to drink their beverages. April glanced up from her cup occasionally to check for further agitation, or, alternatively, tiredness. Thankfully only the latter appeared to be the case. Leo seemed to be calming down and relaxing. She got an idea to get him to voluntarily let himself rest.

“How about…” she started, pausing to sip her cooling coffee, “…you do some meditation? Like Master Splinter did. A healthy, rested mind, er, makes a healthy ninja.”

Leo slowly blinked at her and she grimaced as she realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to mention the parental figure right now. He gently placed his cup on the table. “…He…would, most likely want us all to do…slower exercises,” he agreed, then quickly added, “in- in moderation, of course. We still need to train, be- be fit ninjas, and all-“

“Yeah, I understand,” April replied. She really wanted her friends to allow themselves a break. They all needed to recover. Leo had such a problem with just…chilling. She watched as he finished his drink.

“I’m gonna go upstairs. See you in the morning, April.”

“Mhm, good night.”

The human watched her mutant friend place the cup on the counter and make his way up the stairs. She sighed and closed her eyes, listening to the soft pattering of rain smacking the farmhouse’s roof.

Things will be okay.

[crimsononiarataki-archive]

The woman’s head was spinning and pounding as she opened her eyes. Solomon's sake-- what happened…? The last thing she remembered she was watching someone do some experimental magic…and the next thing everything went dark.  Rubbing her head she pushed herself up into a sitting position before getting to her feet; looking around Aya didnt recognize the area. The buildings were relatively familiar but it was so much lusher than Kou..and the clothing was rather strange. Though she wasnt really one to talk; barefoot and clad in an off shoulder white and gold top and a white skirt tied at her hips  on the sides; leaving her legs bare. Once she realized she had no idea where the hell she was, she decided to ask someone. Approaching what seemed to be a local. “Hey! Could you tell me where I am?” Unfortunately the person just hurried away from her. Making her huff in frustration...oh well. Instead of dwelling on it she started to look for either someone else to ask or a hint as to where in the world she could have ended up.

The Oni was out and about by himself, his Gang back at the hideout for the time being. He didn't leave them behind because he didn't want to hang out with them or anything absurd like that, but rather because he wanted to find some Onikabuto.

"Ooh you look like a winner. Come're little guy."

He'd hold his hand out and allow the little bug to crawl onto it, eventually just moving the beetle to where it rested upon his shoulder as he started to head back toward the hideout. He had to pass through the lower part of the main city, which is likely when he'd find someone hurrying away from the general direction in which he was heading. Given that he was a Youkai, the people tended to leave him alone for the most part. There were times where they didn't, of course, but that was beside the point and absolutely NOT on his mind at the moment.

"I wonder what's going on."

Rather than stopping the person trying to flee toward their home and asking them, the Oni would merely begin walking in the direction they'd fled from. He'd eventually spot the oddly dressed Outlander and quirk a brow. It'd been a while since an Outlander had stepped foot in Inazuma. He'd stop a few feet from her before speaking loud enough for her to hear, but not so much so that it sounded like he was yelling.

"Hey there, Outlander, did you get lost lookin' for somethin'?"

Should she not be looking up, she'd likely spot his geta clad feet, sharp black toenails visible. His manner of dress was likely going to be odd for her, but that's how it was for Outlanders, usually. He also had black claws on his hands, and then there were his horns.

[thedoubteriswise]

okay so. I am a smart adult with many important responsibilities. I have good taste and care about things that matter. for this reason, I’ve been trying to identify where in cql canon wangxian manage to fuck.

because they definitely do; I like a good post-canon getting together fic as much as the next guy, but it’s just not realistic.

allow them. it’s already been so long.

(just like this goddamn post turned out to be, let’s do a cut)

right. so initially it looks like you could place this right after the time skip in episode 33, because it shows us that wwx is with lwj in cloud recesses. we know that he spent the night in the jingshi because he wakes up there the next morning before he goes for a nostalgic tour of his old school.

and also visits the cold spring, where lwj is mostly naked. nice.

but wait! wwx is surprised by the scars on his back and chest. that seems like something he would have known about if they’d already been naked together the night before, so I’m going to say they did not fuck immediately upon wwx’s return to cloud recesses. okay, fine, they’re taking things slow, that’s cool.

maybe they could work it into the next night, then. oh wait, lqr is injured and... staying in the jingshi? for reasons?

I don’t know why. he must have his own house in cloud recesses, and it’s probably at least as comfortable as lwj’s, but here he is. he lives to stop his nephew from getting laid, I guess.

the next day they do some Q&A with the kids and determine that they need to head to qinghe to figure out what’s going on with this sword thing. great! we love a romantic road trip, plenty of alone time. but they also have to do their jobs, and then jin ling needs to get rescued from a wall of dirt, and jc is unfortunately there being himself, and then they have to grill nhs about his tomb full of angry sabers, etc. etc.

with all that going on, their next obvious chance is at the inn immediately after interviewing nhs. this evening has already included:

wwx gazing lovingly at lwj from afar

lwj carrying wwx on his back

lwj pawing at wwx’s robes trying to deal with his cursed leg

lwj helping wwx up the stairs, serving him wine, fixing his flute, and generally being at his beck and call

a very sexy and homoerotic duet

and now they’re alone and drooling over each other as usual. this seems like a plausible spot, right?

it does! but no. after they go back to the nie basement o’ swords and hear the backstory on nmj’s death, we see them walking in yueyang and lwj asks wwx how the curse mark on his leg is doing. wwx says it’s almost healed, which may or may not be a lie, but his inner monologue says:

he’s more concerned about the wound on his arm from the sacrificing curse, which lwj doesn’t know about, because wwx won’t tell him and they still haven’t been naked together.

also, this silly teenage shit doesn’t make much sense unless they’re still dancing around each other.

you guys love the sound of opportunities as they go flying past, don’t you?

right after this, lwj gets drunk. I’m aware that Stuff Happens in the novel scene that inspired this bit, and they do incorporate some of that into the show by having lwj commit petty larceny and admit that he “likes rabbits” as part of the softest and most loving conversation in human history oh my god

but lwj goes to sleep right on time, and the next morning, wwx is laughing and reassuring him that nothing happened.

after this, it’s time to go on a fucked up field trip with the kids in yi city, so they don’t really have any time alone for a few episodes until they’ve finished that and everyone is back at yet another inn. I wonder if they learned something about wasted chances and poor communication from this miserable songxiao story?

maybe! look, they’re being cute and domestic. there are currently no material barriers preventing them from having sex, nor will there be any specific evidence later on proving that they didn’t.

but they’re still firmly in mystery-solving mode and the juniors and lxc are floating around. the vibe isn’t quite there. if I were to pick the most solid reason why I think they’re saving room for jesus at this point, it would be the tension that happens when wwx again asks how lwj recognized him. lwj asks why his memory is so bad, and wwx replies that he wishes he had a bad memory. even though they’re comfortable and happy being together, there’s still some fundamental distance remaining. there’s no sense of romantic resolution. that was actually a point against all their previous opportunities as well; they’re all very sweet, but none of these feel like the place in a story where the romantic leads Officially Get Together.

okay, off to koi tower! shit is getting extremely real. everyone’s busy insinuating that they recognize wwx, but no one is saying it explicitly. wwx isn’t supposed to be here. the guy he’s pretending to be also isn’t supposed to be here. he and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s brother are trying to figure out if his boyfriend’s brother’s boyfriend is a murderer. no one is comfortable and the political intrigue leaves no time for fucking in front of anyone’s salad.

I guess there’s plenty of time to make dozens of armed guards and like half the people they know wait while they have a romantic moment, though.

could they be more in love? And that sure feels like a romantic resolution that might be followed by narratively-earned sex.

ah. no, unfortunately wwx gets stabbed again. this certainly sucks, but it does have the helpful consequence of making lwj take him back to cloud recesses, where they are mostly alone and as safe as they can be in the circumstances. now there’s even more tenderness and also some plot-justified touching and skin exposure. plus, lwj just made a very public declaration of love.

too bad wwx has probably been unconscious since he started coughing up blood in the forest near lanling. he’s also still visibly in pain. fresh abdominal wounds tend to kill the mood.

but hey, the injuries on this show are only as serious as they need to be to move the plot forward and facilitate gentle h/c scenes, so by evening he’s looking perfectly healthy and walking around under his own steam like nothing’s wrong. I guess that problem can be ignored moving forward.

lxc then offers the the most devastating highlights of lwj’s backstory, like, all at once. it’s nice that he includes a flute solo to give wwx a second to process this mountain of terrible information. what the fuck.

there he is! the most devoted man in the whole world! turns out they can actually be more in love after all.

and then the following scene... look, I’m lazy and I don’t know how to make gifs, but screenshots cannot properly convey how good it is. you all know. the hesitant way wwx approaches, the slow and gentle piano version of wangxian, the two of them watching the snow together, it’s. ugh.

remember how I was talking about how the last scene with no material barriers was an unlikely candidate because of the lack of romantic resolution?

well, here’s wwx still being cagey at the beginning of this conversation.

and here they are in the middle of this conversation, having some epiphanies about the course of wwx’s life - I love this shot for a lot of reasons, but I extra love it because it shows wwx out in the snow, with lwj as the safety and warmth waiting behind him, god this show goes hard, holy shit

they both recall their vow to live with a clean conscience and internally say some very corny things about each other because they are both So Much, and then,

ah, what the hell. he can say it out loud after all. romantic resolution accomplished.

and then the camera slowly pulls away as wuji plays.

a slow zoom out? swelling music? listen, I am a connoisseur, I know a tasteful fade-to-black indicating a sex scene that won’t happen on camera when I see one. at last, we have a winner!

now you may think this post is finally over, but I actually have one more piece of evidence for you - the next scene shows the two of them the morning after, meditating behind a screen in the hanshi while lxc is waiting for jgy to show up.

before wwx got de-cored, he was a pretty powerful cultivator, right? the chances that he’s just bad at meditating or that he can’t stay focused on this task seem slim to me. so why does he keep falling asleep?

well. he had kind of a late night.

[aggravatetheaxe]

And it begins...lol.

I checked and saw that your asks were limited, so I won't blow up your inbox or anything. But I've been having a bit of a hard time lately in terms of my depression flaring up and scrolling through your blog and reading your posts made me feel a whole lot better.

As for my ask, I read that Courney lives up in the mountains...so I was wondering if I could have some headcanons about how Courtney would react if his S/O wandered off and got completely and utterly lost in the forest? Just lowkey in the mood to see a more protective side of Courtney, I hope that's alright?

Sounds good!

Who tf is Courtney?

***

Lost S/O Headcanons w/ Courtney

Courtney is very perceptive, so he's probably already observed and come to an understanding about your habits. So when he doesn't find you where he expects to, he'd be confused but not necessarily concerned yet.

From there, he'd move on to checking places you might be - the lodge, the grounds, any trails you frequent. The truck isn't gone, so he knows you're not in town. At this point, he begins to worry.

His worry is plenty justified, considering the fact that the woods around the lodge are blanketed with traps meant for both human and animal. One wrong step and you might get hurt, or worse. There's also the lesser possibility that you were taken hostage by a hiker, fell prey to an animal, or wandered into a neighbor's property and got shot. But the neighbors are so far away, the last one seems unlikely.

Still, it worries him greatly, so he'd set out to start looking for you, no matter the time of day or weather conditions.

He has considered that you might have run away on your own. Maybe you decided this place isn't for you anymore and made a run for it. That thought scares him more than you getting hurt. If you're hurt, at least he can fix it. If you've left, you're gonna be a hell of a lot harder to find (because you won't be crying for help), and you might tell someone his secret.

Courtney is an expert tracker - it kind of comes with the territory - so as long as there hasn't been any massive change in the terrain since you left (from like high winds or a mudslide for example), he'd be able to follow your trail. He knows exactly where he's set up all his traps, so there's very little danger of him getting caught up himself.

He's usually a relatively silent hunter, considering he's gotta sneak up on his target. But once he's determined that you got lost rather than made a run for it, he'll call out your name in his deep, raspy voice. He can be loud if he has to be. No better time than this.. The forest goes silent at his voice - just for a half second.

Either by hearing you or tracking your footprints, hopefully, he'll eventually find you. It will be a lot easier if you stayed in one place, and more time consuming if you wandered.

When he sees you, he relaxes visibly, shoulders lowering. With a huff, he stomps through the deadfall to you. Unless you're obviously injured, he'll look you over for any wounds, then tend to them as best he can on-site. If you are unable to walk, he'll carry you, probably over a shoulder so he has a free hand just in case. If you can walk or just need assistance, he'll go as slow as he must, silent the whole way home. He's definitely wondering how you came to be in this situation, but he prefers quiet while moving through the woods. Alertness is the name of the game.

Once home, he'll strip you, tend to your wounds, give you a bath, feed you - whatever it is you need to recover, he will do it quietly and methodically. He is very focused.

He'd prefer you just tell him what happened than have to ask. But he will ask if he needs to, later that night, probably in bed. Especially if you're freaked out about something you saw, or heard, or whatever, he wants to know what the deal is.

If you are uninhured, as soon as he can, he will impress upon you that these are not woods where you can just leave the trails. They get thick and confusing fast, and you were lucky not to get caught in a trap and seriously hurt yourself. If you are injured, he gives off an "I told you so" vibe but doesn't say anything. He assumes you've learned your lesson. If you want to wander off so bad, at least do it with him.

He doesn't know how to tell you that you terrified him, but he's a lot clingier the next couple weeks.

[mellowyandere]

One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 1

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead) 

Summary: Shouta loves a good game of cat and mouse, unfortunately for you the game’s a little rigged. This is somewhat of an experiment to try and write a smut scene from the male POV. Disclaimer I am not a man so uh yeah lmao. 

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect. 

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink

Aizawa Shouta was a rational man. He did his best to adhere to logic, and to never waste time with unnecessary action. And yet despite this, he absolutely loved watching you try to escape. You were pretty clever, even without him “accidentally” forgetting to lock the second story window that just so happened to be above some forgivingly soft shrubbery. 

You probably would have figured some way out on your own, but something feral inside him didn’t want to wait around for you to act. Normally it was his ever-loud husband Hizashi that fell flat when it came to the notion of patience, but today he would relent to his own selfish desires. 

Toshinori would have been utterly distressed had he been aware of the sleepy pros scheme. The number one was a man of swift action, seemingly never thinking twice before charging fist first into danger. He would not be happy Shouta was playing with you like this, but Toshinori and Hizashi wouldn’t be made aware of his little game with you. After all they had no idea he set this up, so they might genuinely try to punish you. He’d keep it quiet once he caught you and pretend it’s your little secret. Maybe you’d even be a little grateful if you believed he was saving your skin.

He rationalized his behavior by telling himself you seemed so bored, truly this was the perfect way to stimulate your mind and body. So when he heard the telltale sound of a body landing in bushes on the back side of the house he simply started a timer for 20 minutes to give you a bit of a head start. 

Was it cruel to get your hopes up like this? Perhaps, but he’d make sure to fuck you senseless to alleviate the disappointment. After all, if you were a good girl you’d have settled into your life with them already. But you really did enjoy testing them, which brought out the side of him that wanted to put you in your place. 

Giving himself a once over he made sure he had everything he would need for your inevitable return home. Well, now that you were basically quirkiness, all he needed was his capture weapon just in case you put up a struggle. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to fuck you when he caught you, or if he was going to haul your cute ass home first. 

Thinking about plowing into you with adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the hunt had some blood rushing below his belt. Well he could always just do both.

The shrill ringing of his phones alarm brought him back from his wandering thoughts. With a sadistic grin stretching wide across his face he headed for the front door.

-----

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks trapped inside that house with three insane men. Sure they might not beat you or starve you, but the constant belittling, undermining and infantilizing was about to drive you to insanity yourself. You almost jumped for joy when you noticed an unlocked window on the second floor in Hizashi’s and Shouta’s room. The blond man had a bad habit of using too much cologne, and his dark-haired counterpart was always having to air out the room when the radio star went overboard. 

Eraserhead was normally very diligent about ensuring the window was sealed tight, but last night Toshinori had come home in a flurry of smoke and blood, sending his blond junior into hysterics. It was nothing serious, unfortunately, but Shouta had been the one to calm Hizashi and tend to the number ones injuries. Amidst all the ruckus he had left the window unlocked. 

You knew Shouta would soon realize his mistake and lock the window down tight, leaving you with a small time frame to enact your grand escape. It wasn't ideal, but the best you had been able to do was wait for both blonds to leave, trapping you in the house with Shouta. Normally he let you be during the day, opting to nap and grade what appeared to be homework. Hopefully today would seem like just another day, and he wouldn’t think to check on you until dinner approached. 

You found yourself perched on the window sill, ready to take flight. All you had were the clothes on your back, not wanting to make any suspicious noises that would tip you off. On the count of three you braced yourself and pushed off from the ledge, landing on the bushes below with a thud. 

Fuck, that was a bit louder than you had anticipated. Ignoring your growing anxiety, you made quick work of escaping the clutches of the now flattened bush and took off into the woods on the back half of the house. 

Your heart was hammering like mad in your chest as you sprinted as fast as you could. It was hardly fair that it was your first time outside in three weeks and you couldn’t even slow down to take it all in. Thankfully it was spring, meaning you wouldn’t have to worry about the cold. All you needed to do was find someone to get this stupid quirk canceling collar off and then you could safely recede into the background, making sure the three pros never found you again. 

Easier said than done when one of those pros was All Might, and the other two were just as formidable, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. You did your best to not leave a trail behind, but knew once Shouta figured out you were gone he’d have no trouble tracing your tracks. It was the unfortunately shitty reality you were dealing with. 

Were you really going to be able to escape? Even now as you ran as fast as you could it felt like a fruitless endeavor. There were too many variables that had to line up perfectly in order for you to pull this off, and as you ran directionless through the woods no viable solutions were coming to you. Hell, even now your lungs were burning from exertion, legs begging you to stop. 

But if there was one thing that you were it was stubborn. Stubborn to a fault sometimes, and so you pushed onwards. After what felt like an eternity of non-stop running you slowed to a walk. The forest seemed never ending, taunting you with its sprawling army of trees and shrubbery. You decided to be more mindful of the tracks you were leaving, veering off course in a way that would hopefully go undetected. 

Now no longer running you simply kept your steps quiet and ears alert in case Shouta had already discovered your absence. He was good at his work, but even he had limitations. 

-----

Shouta had to give credit where credit was due, you were better at this than he thought you’d be. If you were his student he’d be proud, but you were his prey so he was a bit annoyed. At first your tracks had been sloppy, easy to follow and incredibly straight forward. At some point though you had changed your approach, footsteps almost vanishing as you adopted a new tactic. 

He found himself crouching low, inspecting leaves to see which you had accidentally broken. There were no more snapped limbs as you carefully maneuvered through the woods. If he wasn’t a pro at hunting people down you probably would have been able to evade him, but this was his livelihood. 

Ever so carefully he followed your almost invisible trail. He had you beat in endurance so you’d have to settle somewhere eventually, and without food and water you were at a distinct disadvantage. Everything was lining up in his favor as he intended, even if you were making this a little harder than expected. 

The anticipation of catching a glimpse of you, of watching you realize he was there and taking off, made his heart beat faster. The longer you evaded him, the more time he had to come up with a fun punishment for you. 

-----

The sun had been directly overhead at the beginning of your escape, and was now kissing the horizon. Oranges and reds were thrown about the woods as the creatures of the night began to wake from their slumber. You listened to see if you could hear the chirping of frogs to find a water source but no luck. 

There was no doubt in your mind that Shouta was 110% aware of your absence by now and was probably hot on your trail. You were zigzagging a bit, trying your best to not disturb the forest floor while making it harder to track you. Dammit this was the fucking worst, it had to have been at least 6 hours in these woods, and without any food or water you were famished. 

And yet despite wandering about for 6 fucking hours you had yet to see anything besides the woods. Maybe you should just give up, sit down and accept defeat and whatever punishment you had awaiting you. You couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the fear of what that would entail. 

As dusk quickly turned dark you debated on whether or not you were going to rest for the night. Visibility would be lower, giving you a slight edge, but Eraserhead was a night owl meaning you were entering his domain of peak performance. There was also no guessing if he was the only one looking for you. All Might could move faster than you could even comprehend and Present Mic was fine-tuned when it came to noise location. 

Sighing in annoyance as your wayward thoughts shot holes through your confidence you decided to find somewhere to try and lay down for a bit. If all three were out hunting you down they could take turns and overlap the time so you never got to rest. As busy as they should be with hero work they always seemed to find too much time to hover around you. 

Spotting some dense shrubbery, you crossed your fingers that any creepy crawlies would keep to themselves and carefully began to conceal yourself. Perhaps one of them would pass by and you could gain some intel. If you were lucky they’d write this area off after not finding you and search elsewhere. 

Settling as comfortably as one could in a bush you closed your eyes and did your best to focus on the sounds around you. The melodic chirping of crickets was the most overwhelming of all the sounds. Skittering of small forest animals echoing around as well. Your mind began to desensitize to those sounds, the lack of adrenaline that pushed you along at the start of all this causing it to dip into unconsciousness. 

That was until you heard the distinct snap of a branch. Eyes flying open you were on high alert as you kept still. You tried to hear if there would be any follow up sounds, knowing something of a decent size had to have broken the branch. If it had been a deer they would have simply kept moving, which made you all the more anxious. 

“No more tracks kitten, I know you’re here somewhere. This little game dragged on a lot longer than I had anticipated so it seems there won’t be any way to hide this from Zashi and Toshinori.” 

You wanted to scream. Even though you had tried your best it simply wasn’t enough against Eraserhead. 

“If you come out kitten I’ll give you one last shot to run. Those bushes over there look like a mighty fine hiding spot for someone of your size.” His voice was pointed directly towards you.

FUCK. You couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not at this point but he knew you were here, might as well come out with some dignity before he dragged you out kicking and screaming. 

The bush rustled loudly as you forced your way out. You were tired, famished and most of all so frustrated you wanted to cry. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he had a condescending smirk plastered to his face. 

“There’s my pretty kitty, did you have fun outside?”

Shouta knew just what to say to strike a nerve, but you held your tongue. “One last shot to run. You said so yourself. Ditch the capture weapon and catch me like a man, I mean unless you don’t think you can. I’m already quirkiness which is your gimmick on a regular day, so really you're just beating on someone while they're already down.” You looked up now, glaring at him as his smile grew in amusement. 

“I’m going to have to be a lot more physical without it you know, I’ll have no choice but you manhandle you.”

“I’d rather take my chances.” You knew even without his capture weapon you didn’t stand much of a chance of escape. Your only goal now was to try and see how much he was willing to handicap himself. 

“Gonna give me a head start or are you going to just run as soon as I do?”

At this Shouta had to keep himself from snarking back at you. He had already given you a head start, but if he told you this was all set up you’d probably lose the will to fight on. “Five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes to run as far as you can and then I’ll come after you,” he said while pulling out his phone. 

“What about Toshinori and Hizashi?” 

“At the house. I told them I’d handle this, Toshinori will be coming to get us though once I tell him game over. We’re pretty deep in the woods and I don’t feel like walking back for six hours.”

You nodded at his words. So it was just the two of you then. Your combat skills were nothing to write home about, but maybe if you fought dirty you could gain the upper hand. 

“Alright, tell me when.”

“Oh, I already started it. You have 4 minutes and 17 seconds.”

Fucking asshole. You took off sprinting, running as fast as you could, only opting to slow to a jog once you thought you were out of earshot. You wanted him to believe you’d be trying your damndest to put distance between the two of you. But you knew you’d never outrun him. Instead you were going to continue jogging for a bit, counting down the seconds in your head so you didn’t lose track your timer. 

Once your remaining time was up you were going to lay low and try to ambush him. He wouldn’t be paying as close attention to your trail since he knew he could easily catch up. 

After the remaining 4 minutes had passed you found a decent sized tree to hide behind and worked on slowing down your breathing. It felt like your heart was going to chisel its way straight through your bones, your limbs trembling with anxiety. It wasn’t often you were hunted back when you were an anti-hero. Not many people knew who you were which made it incredibly easy to be looked over. 

Scooping up handfuls of dirt you waited. You heard him before you saw him. He wasn’t bothering to take it slow, seemingly eager to get it over with. He ran right past you, noticing you a second too late as dirt and debris were chucked straight into his face. 

He yelled out in surprise, hands reaching out to grab you but you jumped out of reach. True to his word his capture weapon was nowhere in sight. Screaming in anger you lunged at him, nails attempting to claw his face but his own larger hands were working on wiping off your dirt assault, effectively blocking you.  

He stumbled back a bit, unprepared for your hostility, before steadying himself and turning the tables back on you. In one swift motion his fist collided with your gut, forcing the air from your lungs. Your arms came down to protect where he had hit as you wheezed pathetically. Seconds later his larger frame came crashing into you, easily knocking you to the ground. 

You cried out in pain, head hitting the ground a bit too hard as stars danced behind your eyes.

“Not very smart of you Y/N, I mean it beats trying to outrun me, but really? Dirt? It’s like you want me to punish you or something.”

“GET OFF ME!” 

Placing a hand on the back of your head he pushed you down while his other arm pulled the lower half of your body flush against him. You could feel his erection pressing up against your ass.

You were a snarling sobbing mess at this point. All your emotions crashing down at once as you thrashed below Shouta.

“Easy now easy, calm down kitten. You did really good, better than I thought you were going to. If you calm down I might be willing to reduce your punishment, but you have to stop throwing a fit first.”

Despite his words Shouta was enjoying almost every second of your thrashing. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was knowing how disappointed you were right now. Anyone would be after coming so far. Now was his chance to make it up to you before giving Toshinori the go ahead. 

As your struggles subsided the only movement from your body was from your gentle sobs. Shouta for his part was slowly grinding his hard cock against your ass as he softly shushed you. 

“I know you’re disappointed kitten but I’ll make you feel better. If you’re a good girl for me I’ll be willing to look past that little dirt tactic. You’re such a smart girl though, you really did catch me by surprise.”

Leaning down he began to whisper into your ear, removing the hand from your head and bringing it down to your clothed pussy. 

“You always were resourceful, it’s one of the things I fell in love with about you. If only you were a hero, but then again if you were I wouldn’t have had the fun of hunting you down.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words. All three of them enjoyed reminiscing about how they first saw you and all their subsequent actions that lead to your imprisonment. The effort they had put into bringing you “home”. It was beyond disturbing. 

“Please Shouta, not here. Can we, can we just go home first?”

“Maybe if I had found you 4 hours ago, but right now you’re treading on very thin ice. Be a good girl for me and I’ll make sure Hizashi and Toshinori don’t punish you too harshly when we get back.”

His large hand was pawing at your clothed sex, black hair draping over your own face as his body curled around you. He slowly rutted against you, excited huffs of air ghosting across the side of your face. You could practically feel his heart vibrating against your back he was so worked up. 

He gently rubbed his stubble against the side of your face, composure slipping a bit. While Shouta absolutely loved how feisty you could be, nothing compared to when you submitted to him. He craved the feeling of your tired body giving in to his ministrations, but he needed more. 

His hand quickly slipped between your pants and underwear, index finger eagerly aiming for your folds. He couldn’t care less that you were sweaty and dirty from the hunt. Right now all he could think about was the softness of your exposed flesh, and much to his delight, the slight wetness to your outer lips. 

“Seems like someone likes being caught more than they let on hmm kitten?”

He couldn't help but taunt you a bit, loving the way you sniffled and whimpered beneath him. You knew when to behave yourself, when to be good for him. Arousal was flooding his veins. The way it felt to rub himself against your perfect ass, even through layers of clothes, had his mind blanking out. 

Your core was warm, even without him dipping a finger inside. Gently he began to delve deeper, gathering up your arousal to spread around. Your pants were starting to bother him a bit, retracting his hands he made quick work of not only your bottoms, but his as well. You remained still for him, opting to sulk like a child as he prepared to ravish you. 

You were too cute like this, and with the lower half of your body on full display he couldn't help but groan in delight. Bringing a hand down he slapped your ass hard, mesmerized by the way your flesh gave way. You yelped in surprise, body rutting forward. His cock twitched as he palmed your sore flesh, cooing softly in apology. You glared back at him, pretty little face set in a pout.

As much as he wanted to slap your ass until you cried for him to stop he restrained himself. Although this was a punishment, he had set you up. He would go easy on you, not forgetting his promise to himself to help you forget the frustration you were feeling right now. 

Whenever you got angry you opted to stop talking, instead waiting for a moment of weakness to strike or quietly accept your fate. Judging by your defeated expression he could safely assume the latter 

Folding himself over you he brought his hand back down to your pussy, thumb working slow circles on your clit while he middle finger delved deeper. Your entrance was a bit tight, but with gentle persistence he worked his way inside. 

Your velvety inner walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t help but rut his aching cock against your bare ass as his mind drifted to the feeling of you clamping down on his arousal instead. Your whines of protest only further spurring on his overwhelming need to be inside you. 

Adding a second finger he began to pump into you with a bit more urgency. Your slick was quickly coating his hand as he hit all the spots he knew would work you up to your orgasm. Groaning in delight he brought his lips to your exposed neck, sucking and nipping at your soft flesh. 

He loved when he could tell you were getting close. Your warm walls would clamp down on him, breathy mewls and moans escaping your soft lips. You were rocking back into him, uncaring of the fact that you were grinding against him as you chased your release. In these moments you abandoned your resolve to fight against him, and he happily took advantage of that. After all, if your body knew what you wanted, surely your mind would catch up one day.

Your moans were more audible now, hands grasping at the forest floor. Your back was arched into him, desperate to use him. So close, you were so close he knew it, and right before you could finish he pulled his hand away. He laughed as you huffed in frustration. 

“Shouta pl-please.” Fuck, he loved it when you begged. It didn’t happen often with how stubborn you were but when it did he knew he had to comply. 

Instead of verbally responding he opted to do what he wanted to all night long. Lining up the tip of his cock to your entrance he groaned at the heat radiating off you. Pumping his hand along his length a couple times to lube himself up with your excess fluid he pushed the tip in. You stilled beneath him, and in one swift movement he fully sheathed himself. 

His mind went blank as you cried out in pleasure, wet walls convulsing around him as your orgasm tore through you. He held still, opting to gently pet you while cooing softly down at you. Before he met you, even with Hizashi, he had never been very vocal during sex. But now he couldn’t stop himself from babbling a bit, praising you for being such a good girl. 

As your body stilled in his arms he continued to plant kisses along your delicate neck. Your soft sniffles made his heart clench a bit, how was it possible for you to be so damn cute? 

“Alright kitten now it’s my turn. No pulling anything stupid, I won’t take long.”

This whole hunt had been one giant tease, working him up in a way he normally wouldn’t allow himself. Pulling out he groaned at the feeling of his cock sliding against you. Moving his hands he grabbed your waist, eyes transfixed on where you were joined. Your back was arched as you braced yourself on your elbows, presenting yourself to him. 

His mind clouded over, blood opting to drag his attention elsewhere. He began to push back in, desperate to feel you surrounding him. Setting a tempo he pulled about halfway out before slamming back in, loving the way your body moved as you bounced off him. 

His hands dug into your supple flesh, possibly leaving bruises. He could feel the oncoming of his own orgasm, the muscles in his lower abdomen pulsating. He was panting, heart racing in his rib cage as his eyes rolled back into his head. He didn’t have the patience to edge himself today, he needed this, needed you.

He loved hearing the way your breath was forced from your lungs when he fully sheathed himself inside you. He knew he was overstimulating you a bit, but the part of him that needed to find his own release didn’t pay that fact much mind. All he could think about was the way it felt to be one with you, lost inside your soft warmth.  

After only a couple more minutes of relentlessly pounding into you he couldn’t hold it back any longer. A wave like sensation rushed through his body as his hips stuttered. He folded over you, wrapping his arms around you as he felt his hot cum rush through his cock and fill your body. The emotions rushing through him as he released into you, the woman he loved, were indescribable.

It didn’t take long for his muscles to relax, euphoria swept away by the need to take a nap washing over him. You had long since stopped crying, remaining motionless beneath him. He wondered what was going through your mind as he held you flush against him.

“Sho-Shouta.” So meek, so quiet. His heart fluttered a bit. “Can we go home now... I want to take a shower.”

Chuckling softly he pulled himself out, groaning a bit at the feeling of overstimulation as your warm walls dragged against him. Leaning away he smiled as his cum leaked out your pussy. 

“Yes kitten we can go home. I’ll make sure to clean you up.”

You groaned in protest, hating when they insisted on washing you. He knew you liked your privacy but Hizashi and Toshinori were still going to want to punish you. He’d keep close by to keep them from being too harsh. 

Pulling up his pants he fished his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at the sheer quantity of missed calls from the two aforementioned. Poor little kitten, it didn’t look like you’d be getting off easy. 

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

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

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

[loth-wolffe]

If you are still taking requests from the song list, I believe it was 41, but if not I know it was “They Dont Know About Us” by One Direction.

And I was wondering if you could do it for Crosshair perhaps?? Like reader and him are in a relationship and the rest of the batch doesn’t know because they up hold an “I hate” cover around them still??

-🌪

hIYA! (a million years later, sorry @ 🌪️), bUT HERE IT IS. also, I think it took an different turn from the actual ask at the end?? and I don't know if this is what you had in mind, but I tried to keep the feeling of the song more than trying to use the actual lyrics, so uh,,,,,,, I hope you like it!

They don't know about us

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Prompt: 41. They don't know about the things we do, they don't know about the I love you's. - They don't know about us by One Direction

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: none. just a trashy ending as usual 😌

It's always sneaking around with him; in the middle of the night as the others sleep, either on the Marauder or back in Kamino, he would always find a way to get to you, quiet steps making their way to you in the darkness, as if every path would lead to you.

Cold hands always holding you from behind, close to his body, either on your way to the 'fresher or in the bunk of your quarters, and he would inhale your scent, the smell sweet shampoo he always took a moment or two to breath in, and he would whisper in your ear a "hi" or a "miss me?" before pressing the faintest of kisses on your temple and turning you to face him, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss that would leave you breathless, an ardent touch, so needy and urgent that made you sigh and feel like jelly as your fingers get lost in the short locks on the nape of his neck, sometimes tugging, sometimes scratching oh so softly, grunts and empty promises leaving each other's lips.

You could swear every time he kissed you, you died and came back to life in the blink of an eye, in the smallest of breaths, in the quickest way possible only to find him again, and again, and again, in the very same position, hearing the same words, feeling the same touch, and yet again, never seeming to get tired of it, of him, of how he feels pressed against you or how long, calloused fingers left goosebumps in their wake, how your knees felt weak with every exploration of his tongue and how intoxicated he left you, making you dizzy and heart pounding wildly in your chest, two beats away from leaping out and fall straight into his hands.

But he always left you wanting more, having to wait till the night fell, and leaving before the sun rises.

It was only in the shortest period of time when you could have him, in the dead hallways or in the darkness of your room, away from prying eyes and whispers that might know what you two are up to, afraid they find it was nothing but a facade how you two acted around each other when the sun shone bright.

A never ending bicker over the simplest of things, eye rolls and tired huffs thrown at each other along with sarcastic comments, an act in which the two of you played your part so well since you met no one could think it was just that, an act, and neither you or Crosshair knew how to stop. And when it was for your eyes only, you showed something else, a vulnerability and a kindness people could only joke about you two having, whispering confessions on each other's skin so low and so soft sometimes you don't believe you heard them right.

Still, there were times where you wanted to say them out loud, scream them at the top of your lungs as you held his hand on the way to the Marauder or maybe just confess it in a murmur as you kiss him goodbye, whisper a be careful followed by an I love you when you had to stay behind. Wishing to place your head on his shoulder as you fell asleep after a hard day and for him to kiss your forehead while muttering a sweet dreams, I'll be here when you wake up and have the certainty that he will.

"We could tell them." You had muttered once, when his head rested on your chest and your fingers played with his hair.

"Sneaking is fun, though." You hummed, mind absent as you think in the possibilities.

Sneaking is fun, and there is a thrill you can't get so easily from other things, the rush and adrenaline you get from the mere thought of being caught is something else, truly, but there's an ache too, of a secret that burdens your heart because all it wants to do it's to scream out loud that it's taken and in love.

He met your eyes, and you kissed his forehead.

"We'll get in trouble if anyone finds out."

And you know that, so you kept from saying anything else, there's no way around this, much less with trying to change Crosshair's mind, so you just nodded.

"I know."

But you end up forgetting, breaking the unspoken promise of keeping it for yourself, exposing it all without second thought, an action so natural that you didn't notice until the tense silence caught up with you, Crosshair's little smirk assuring you it wasn't as bad as what you thought it would be if anyone ever found out, eyes glinting with a special something that let you know you were good.

He was close to the breaking point too.

A kiss is what betrays you.

It happens after a mission, when you thought everyone but Hunter were in the cockpit, and you were tending an ugly cut in Crosshair's chest.

"You need to stop moving," you say under your breath as you try to apply bacta on his chest.

"I would if you stopped moving." He grumbles, and you sigh, giving him a look, and it's just the beginning of another silly argument with him.

"I would if Tech did a better job piloting."

"Well, that's not my fault."

"Neither is mine!" But before he can make a remark, Hunter passes behind you.

"Cut it off you two," Hunter orders as he passes to the cockpit and you roll your eyes along with Crosshair, a smirk making its way into both of your lips and you shake your head.

"You heard the Sarge, cut it off." And his smile widens, eyes narrowing in a silent challenge and you know the action well and what comes with it.

"Why don't you make me?"

And you look at him for a second, forgetting for a moment where are you and who's around you, his amber eyes and light smirk overshadowing every coherent thought as you take the bait.

In your defense, you did think you were alone, so it's what pushes you to smile to yourself while murmuring a "you asked for it" before sitting on his lap, his hands flying to your hips by inertia and you don't see his smug expression before you kiss him hard, sloppy, taking his breath away with the action as he lets a surprised gasp on your lips and you try to hold back a triumphant smile.

When you pull away, his eyes shine with adoration and something you can't place just yet as you smirk, pecking his lips before going back to apply bacta on his wound.

There's a loud "finally", you that makes you freeze, head snapping towards Crosshair, alarmed, but he only looks relaxed, a cocky expression on his face as he shrugs, as if it was something destinated to happen, and glances to the person behind you, you turn your head to the side to find the four boys looking straight at you.

Wrecker looks disgusted, Tech's not impressed and Echo and Hunter have the smugest smiles you have ever seen.

Your cheeks heat up and you'd do anything to leave right then and there or maybe if you could just simply disappear, but Crosshair's grip is keeps you in place, not letting you move from his lap. If anything, he tightens his hold.

"We don't know who you tried to fool, you weren't exactly subtle." Echo says, but you were subtle, and it makes you wonder, before you can ask about it, Tech quickly continues as he tries to reassure,

"But don't worry, we won't tell anyone if that's what you were afraid of."

Your face reddens and your voice fails when you say thank you, and Crosshair gives Tech a sharp nod, and there's a conversation unknown to you as they look at each other that ends with the others nodding as well.

"We're happy for you," Hunter eventually lets out, understanding flashing through his eyes before he adds, " but next time avoid the whole make out session, we don't need that." And the smirk in his voice, makes you groan before hiding your face in Crosshair's neck while he chuckles softly.

"Yeah! It's disgusting!"

You visibly cringe and that's the last you hear before everyone begins to scatter around the ship, Crosshair tires to soothe you with making lazy patterns on your back with his fingers and he kisses your temple before your eyes meet, he brushes your hair from your face as he mutters the quietest you've ever heard him,

"No more hiding."

With a fluttering heart, you grin widely.

"No more hiding."

Taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @murdertoothpick @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @weirdcharacter

[blossom-hwa]

Time and Time Again - CHANGBIN

I cannot believe this is finished??? I feel like I say this every time but genuinely I didn’t think this would get done until maybe bin’s birthday in August but I somehow finished it the second day of January?? Anyway, I really loved this (the concept LITERALLY came to me in a dream), and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :)

(The idea that prompted this response to a @quillstarters​ challenge is the same one that inspired this story :D)

Pairing: Changbin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

Triggers: death, mentions of suicide, blood (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 10.8k

A vengeful god curses one hundred lifetimes of your love.

SKZ Masterlist

In your first life, the life that starts it all, your mother knows magic.

She’s a healer, one whose patients come from all walks of life, all over the world. From that first lifetime, you remember the heavy, comforting smell of dried herbs, the softness of her hair tickling your face, the shimmers of magic emanating from her practiced fingers into bubbling pots.

You sort of remember a father, hazy memories of a smiling man who wasn’t home very often but when he was, liked to pick you up and swing you around the room. He isn’t around by the time you’re six, maybe seven, though.

You know not to ask about it. The first time you did, your mother’s face just turned sad, an awful sort of sad that looked more like regret and repentance and anger and desolation. It takes a few more slip ups, but eventually you learn to ignore your curiosities. For though your mother never outright dismisses them, they upset her, and you never get a straight response.

Until the god arrives.

They appear in a shower of blinding light. Cold, white sparks burst into brilliant rainbows that fade in the air. You watch, mesmerized, even as your mother drags you away.

The god is beautiful. Fine, androgynous features, red eyes as soulful as song, lush locks of hair that tumble around their shoulders. But it is the severity in their face, as well as the bloodred bow and the bone-tipped arrow nocked in their hands that tell you who they are.

“You hid yourself well, disciple of Hekate.” Cupid’s beautiful lips curl in a mocking smile that doesn’t even attempt to disguise the anger in their eyes. “Eight years. I applaud you.”

Three slow, ominous claps echo loudly in the room.

You look up at your mother, heart about to leap out of your chest. Her face has gone pale, devoid of color. It only scares you more.

Cupid’s eyes flicker to you, clutching your mother’s skirts like a toddler. They freeze you in place. “So she never told you.”

Told me what?

“You never wondered where your father was, child?”

All the breath stops in your throat.

My father?

The god shakes his head disapprovingly. “It’s the least you could have done, sorceress.”

“What would you have me do?” Your mother’s voice brims with desperation and anger – though aimed at whom, you aren’t sure. “How could a child ever understand?”

“You should never have made the mistake in the first place.”

Understood what? Your eyes flit between the god and your mother. “Mother?” you whisper, tugging at her sleeve. “Mother, what do they mean?”

The story spills out in broken fragments. Your father had a liaison with your mother and she found she was pregnant with you. She loved him, but he didn’t want to stay. So she dabbled in forbidden magic. Gave a love potion to a man who did not care for her.

You were born. He realized, eventually, what she had done. Then he left, leaving you without a father.

You can’t even try to speak when the story is over. It feels as though you can’t breathe, can’t feel, can’t see anything beyond the god’s blood red eyes. Fingers cling to your mother’s skirts numbly as you attempt to process the flow of words that just passed through your ears.

Dimly, you register your mother pulling free from your hands to kneel on the floor. “Do with me as you see fit,” she whispers.

“With you?” Cupid laughs. The sound tears at the silence in the room. “What use would that be? No, I think your child will pay for your crimes.” They pin you under their gaze. “Yes, I see many lifetimes of pain in these eyes that would suffice.”

You don’t understand. You can’t understand. What does the god want with you? What have you done to anger them? It was your mother who committed the error, not you. Why must you pay for it? Your heart pounds faster and faster as their eyes refuse to waver.

“Yes.” They nod, finally satisfied. “A heart broken one hundred times will pay for your crime.” Cupid lifts their bow and arrow, aiming at your heart.

Your mother’s head snaps up. “You would condemn my child’s love to centuries of turmoil?” Her voice shakes with barely controlled anger. “You would punish my child for my mistakes? Take me instead!”

Cupid’s cruel eyes flicker between you and her. “Love is hardly fair, as you should well know,” they snarl. “By meddling in my affairs, you have secured your child’s fate.”

Their gaze fixes on you with the intensity of a thousand suns. You shrink under their glare, even as their eyes gain some semblance of softness. For a moment, it seems as though the god will take pity on you.

Then the arrow sinks into your chest, exploding into a shower of the god’s cold sparks. No blood flows but your chest throbs.

Through a dim haze of pain, as though they speak through water, you hear the god speak their final words.

“A hundred lifetimes will pass before I will allow your love to rest.”

. . . . .

It takes years, really, for the information to sink in. You don’t fault your mother entirely for her actions – raising a child alone is hard, you come to know as you grow older. But at the same time, you can’t find respect for a man who would abandon a woman he had a relationship with over the birth of a child. You can’t understand why your mother would love such a person, can’t quite understand love in general. You know you love your mother, of course, but what does such an emotion really mean?

You learn the meaning at age twenty in your first life when you meet Seo Changbin.

Your mother rushes into the house that day, almost collapsing under his unconscious weight. You immediately zero in on the huge gash on his leg that’s still leaking blood, despite the makeshift bandage, and start pulling down the necessary salves and potions.

He doesn’t wake up for a week. Other patients filter in and out of the little hut as the days go by and you dutifully do your best to treat them all, gently treating scrapes and brewing tonics. There’s something about the man lying unconscious and feverish at the back of the hut, though, that draws you in like a moth to a flame. Day by day, you sit by him when you can, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with cool cloths, forcing brews down his throat and dabbing creams onto his leg to fight the infection.

He doesn’t look like one of the gentlemen that sometimes come to town. He doesn’t seem like he has the stately grace of Hwang Hyunjin, the lord’s heir, nor does he exude the cold elegance of Choi Chanhee, the magistrate’s son.

So this man is probably a commoner, if your deductions are correct. But you know almost everyone in the village – they’ve all come to the healer’s hut at some point and met you – and this boy’s face is new. You don’t recognize him, not at all.

You wake up to a soft crash in the middle of the night, then the sound of a loud curse. For a moment, you lie back down on your pillow. Probably Mother.

Then you sit bolt upright. That was a man’s voice. Not your mother’s.

Thieves?

Then you realize.

He’s woken up!

Large, terrified eyes glow in the flickering light of your candle when you enter the healing ward, carefully holding your hands in a purposeful gesture of surrender. “Hello,” you say, trying not to fixate on the beauty of the boy’s eyes. “My name is Y/N. My mother found you in the forest with an infected wound and brought you to our home for treatment.”

He glares at you, still distrustful, but speaks. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week.”

The boy visibly tenses. “One week?”

“Yes.” You step forward. “And I would advise you not to leave for at least another two, given the condition of your leg. Wherever you’re going, if you go now, the infection will kill you before you get far.”

“How long will I have?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you suicidal?”

For several tense seconds, you stare at each other, neither backing down. Finally, the boy lowers his gaze. “Fine,” he says, the fight leaving his voice. He smiles a little, apologetically. “I’ll stay. Thank you for treating me.”

“You’re welcome.” You help him back onto the cot. “Now try to sleep. I’ll come back to check on you in the morning.”

Just before you fall asleep, you think of large, brown eyes and petulant lips. For some reason, they make you smile.

. . .

His name is Changbin, you come to learn after several days of pained grunts, spilled salve, and muted conversation. He won’t tell you where he comes from, but a name is far better than nothing. At least you have confirmation that he isn’t a local, and he smiles too much for you to suspect him as a murderer.

That would be unpleasant.

And Changbin is the opposite of unpleasant. He has this smile, a smile that no matter how small, is bright enough to light up the room. He’s so smart when it comes to life but he’s also a little dumb, really, telling bad jokes that make you roll your eyes but laugh anyway. He snorts when you tell your own stupid stories and insulting jokes and as a result, you think of more and more for him, more tall tales and bad puns just so you can hear that beautiful laugh that sounds like a cross between wedding bells and a pig’s snort.

He stays for your recommended two weeks, then another, and another. Your mother doesn’t mind, only smiles at him like he was her own son. Changbin isn’t useless, after all – he helps you tend to the herb garden, chops wood for the fire, and is receptive to the eventual lessons you give him on the basics of healing.

(And if you stare at his muscles when he lifts heavy pots over the fire, what of it?)

The boy your mother found so many weeks ago in the woods lights up your life in a way you’ve never experienced before. Even though it makes you feel guilty, sometimes you’re glad that Changbin injured himself in the forest. Otherwise, you might never have met the boy who sits with you shoulder to shoulder on the bank of the river that runs through the woods, laughs ringing through the trees.

“Y/N,” he says on one of those quiet days by the river. When you look up from your feet dangling feet in the swift current and when you look up, you find Changbin staring at you with something so soft, so deep in his gaze that you can’t decipher it.

(It makes your heart thump.)

“Hm?” You pull your feet out of the water, feeling almost shy as you meet his eyes.

“Have you ever been kissed?”

When Changbin kisses you that afternoon under a green canopy of leaves, golden light showering his dark hair and tanned skin, you can’t think. There are no thoughts of anything in your head (and certainly none of Cupid’s curse) except the euphoria of his lips against yours. With his mouth pressed softly to yours, you feel like you’re flying, drifting on the breeze without a care in the world. It’s bliss, pure bliss.

Your mother knows when you walk back into the hut, suppressing an uncontrollable smile. Her gaze remains carefully neutral for the rest of the day, but when Changbin has gone outside to chop wood, she speaks. “You know about the curse.”

Dread mixes with the bliss in your heart. Your head hangs over the herbs you’re grinding. “Yes, Mother.”

“Darling, look at me.” She turns you around, and you see the tears building in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

There’s bitterness in your chest and mouth, tingeing the tip of your tongue, but this is your mother, the woman who bore you and cared for you alone for so much of your life. Though angry words rise in your throat, they never make it past your lips.

“It’s okay, Mother.” You brush the tears away, valiantly holding your own back. “I can’t blame you for a mistake you made in the name of love.” Blind, blind hope rises in your chest. “Maybe the god forgot. Maybe they will have mercy.”

Your mother just looks at you with dreadful eyes, eyes haunted by the knowledge that your words will prove false. But Changbin’s already coming back inside and the fluttering happiness in your heart from seeing him expels all negative thoughts from your mind.

One year passes in domestic bliss. Your mother never brings up the curse again, and you push any thought of it to the back of your mind. Changbin’s kisses do much to dispel any worries of yours, anyway.

Late one night, curled in a blanket next to the fire, Changbin tells you the reason he came. “I left because of a family dispute,” he says, almost ashamedly, staring into the flickering flames. “I had a falling out with my father, and he told me to leave. Even though I knew he really didn’t mean it, even though my mother pleaded with me to stay, I… I left anyway.”

You hold him closer under the blanket, comforting him with your warmth. In the light of the fire, his eyes look ghostly against the dark.

“I’m telling you this now because I want to go back.”

Your heart freezes.

Back? He wants to go back to his village, go back home… and leave you behind?

But Changbin’s smiling now, slightly. It settles your heart a little – he couldn’t speak of leaving you forever and smile in the same sentence, could he? You look at him, eyes pleading with him to continue.

“I want to go back to apologize,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I want to go back to make amends. But I’ll come back to the home I have here.”

“Can I come with you?” you can’t help but ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer.

He shakes his head, and your heart sinks. “No, I think this is something I have to do myself. But I won’t stay, I promise you that. I’ll come back home.”

“Promise?” you ask, voice barely a whisper over the crackling flames. Your fingers clutch his desperately. He has to come back, or you’ll go with him.

“I promise.” He lifts a thin silver chain from his neck, a necklace he’s never taken off since he arrived, and loops it around your throat. “That’s my promise, all right? I’m leaving this with you because I know I’ll return. And when I do…” He sweeps one of your hands out of the blanket and places a gentle kiss on it. “I’m going to marry you.” A note of uncertainty enters his gaze. “Unless you… uh, unless you don’t want to?”

You tug your hand out of his and punch him in the arm. “Are you stupid, Seo Changbin?” you ask over his yelps of mock pain. Eyes turning shy, you smile. “Of course I do.”

Your heart explodes in bliss when he kisses you, the fire’s warmth dancing on his lips.

. . .

“No more than two months,” he promises you the day he leaves. “I’ll come home.”

He keeps looking back and you keep waving as he starts out into the forest, green leaves beginning to shroud his path. The last you see of him is his bright smile as he disappears between the trees, the gentle pressure of his lips still a memory against yours.

One month passes, then two. You wait outside the hut eagerly every day, waiting for a sign of his returns.

Then another month goes by. And another. Winter settles in, heavy snow coating the forest in cold, white blankets.

“Perhaps he was held up,” your mother says, guiding your shivering body back inside the house. “He couldn’t travel in the winter, so he’s probably staying somewhere for the time being.”

You want to believe her. You really do, with all your heart and soul. But Cupid’s curse remains in the back of your mind, twisting and turning in its depths, whispering to you that Changbin is gone, that he will never return.

Winter has passed and a month of spring gone by before you decide to find Changbin’s family yourself. It takes several months because really, you don’t have any guide other than the name of his old village, but eventually, exhausted and almost losing hope, you find them.

A stooped woman answers the door with a confused smile on her lips. “Hello.”

“Um, hello.” You swallow. “Is this the Seo residence?”

“Yes, can I help you with anything?”

You pull the necklace from under the collar of your shirt. “Did Changbin come visit some months ago?”

For a single moment charged with hope, you see the widening of the woman’s eyes and believe that she will say yes, that Changbin came and is just having a hard time returning.

Then she shakes her head, and the world begins to crumble at the edges.

. . .

You stay just long enough to tell Changbin’s family who you are and what he set out to do, then flee back home as fast as you can. Tears stain the forest floor and when your mother opens the door to the hut so many months later, it only takes one look for her to fold you into her arms as you begin to cry on her shoulder.

He could be alive, you desperately hope. He could be somewhere, lost, unable to find his way back home. You know your Changbin would never break a promise to you, not if he could help it.

One year. Two years. Then three. The months pass with no sign of his return.

And you know, dead or not, he isn’t coming back.

It hurts. Everything reminds you of him, of Changbin, of what could have been and what should have been. You curse Cupid, cry for the god to come down so you can scream obscenities at them face to face, but they never answer your pleas.

The silver chain Changbin left you burns around your neck, but you can’t bring yourself to take it off. It’s the last thing you have of him, the only thing you have of him. You clutch it on your worst days, imprinting the tiny chain links into your palm when you fall sick, wasting away without a desire to live.

This is what it feels like, you think, delirious with fever, to have lost your entire world.

Your crying mother stays by your side as you wither, sponging your forehead, feeding you soup, whispering apologies into the blankets she covers you with. In moments of lucidity, you clutch her hand and tell her it’s not her fault. That you understand, now, what it means to love someone with the force of the universe.

Weeks pass in a feverish daze until winter seizes control of the earth. Numb with cold and sweating with warmth, you pray to the heavens above to release you from this pain.

The day you drift away is bitterly cold. You’re wrapped in at least five blankets, your mother shivering beside you as she grips your hands, trying desperately to warm them.

There is one brief moment of absolute clarity. You sit up, eyes wide, and cup your mother’s cheeks between cold, cold hands. “I love you, Mother.”

She kisses your forehead. “I love you too, my darling child.”

Her tears drip onto your cheeks. You don’t remember anything more.

In your first life, in the dead of winter, you die of a broken heart.

. . . . .

Your second life begins in a poor family, though happy. Sixteen years of life pass in ignorant bliss, with no knowledge of soulmates or vengeful gods. A week after your birthday, hope filling every step, you set off for the nearby village to try your skills at sewing. Luck paves your path and you find a kind mistress who values your quick fingers and eye for color. The village is bright and cheerful, you’re making money to send back to your family, and life is peaceful.

Then the dreams come.

The first vision is barely there, just a quick glimpse of green trees and a disappearing smile wedged between the scenes of your mind’s musings. You wake up, an uneasy feeling in your chest, but the image is already fading. You shake the discomfort away and get to work.

The second dream is longer, more vivid. You hear a voice, feel a gentle touch, see a mop of dark hair and a pair of gleaming eyes. In the moment, you feel happy, so happy in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure, this happiness, something so deep that your entire body feels warm when you wake, even as a chilling breeze seeps in through a crack in the window.

The dreams continue for several days, and each morning, you only grow more curious about the strange man who keeps wandering into your mind. Who is this man? you wonder as you sew, poking your fingers with the needle more times than you’d like to admit. Who is he, and why does he make me so happy?

Why does it feel like I should know him?

After a week of lovely, warm, but deeply unsettling dreams, it hits you all at once.

Needle in hand, you’re about to push the sliver of metal through a silk shirt, ready to begin embroidering the next leaf on a flowering vine. Taking a second glance at the embroidery you’ve already done, you blink in confusion.

This kind of vine doesn’t exist in your little village. In fact, you’ve never seen it before. But each leaf, each flower is so perfectly stitched that it doesn’t seem possible that you just made this up on the spot.

Oh.

Green leaves, sturdy trunks, water rushing down a river. Firm muscle, a flowering vine curled into a crown, fingers placing the circlet upon your head. A brilliant smile, bright as the sun, and a peal of snorting laughter that sounds like wedding bells.

One name hurtles through your mind, the name of the dark-haired, lovely-eyed boy who, by now, is a frequent visitor in your dreams.

Seo Changbin.

The needle embeds itself in your palm.

. . .

It’s hard to explain away your frazzled state when your mistress comes into the room to see you staring at the embroidered silk, palm dripping blood onto your clothes. Voice trembling only slightly (and you’re proud of yourself for that), you tell her that you just made a mistake, really.

Never mind the fact that the needle stuck itself far enough into your hand that you really have to pull it out, releasing a small spurt of blood that raises your mistress’s eyebrows so far they look like they’re about to jump off her forehead.

Shakily, you get back to work. Years of practice have steadied your fingers so that the stitches remain even, but as you sew, your mind races with memories. Memories of a trembling mother, a red-eyed god, a gaping leg wound festering on an apothecary table. Memories of boys you’ve never met in this life, a Hwang Hyunjin and a Choi Chanhee, but most importantly, a strong young man with sweet lips and a raspy, whining voice named Seo Changbin.

“Seo Changbin,” you murmur, testing the words between your lips. Just saying his name sends a rush of warmth through your chest and brings a small smile to your face.

The smile disappears, though, when you remember how the story ends.

Night brings dreams again, full, vivid scenes that begin with joy and happiness and warmth. You see your mother from another life, smell the comforting scent of herbs wafting through the air in the hut. You see your love, Changbin, feel his arms wrapped around your body, see the flush in his cheeks when you press your lips to his in a kiss.

The day he leaves is vivid, too. Sharp greens against a bright blue sky devoid of clouds, his smile disappearing into the forest as he begins his journey home.

A journey that you know he will never finish.

You know what will happen next and you don’t want to see it. You beg yourself to wake up, to stop these visions before your heart breaks, but sleep pins down your limbs and forces you to watch, to experience, to live the turmoil of emotions that flooded your heart those last few years of your life.

The next morning, you look so ill that your mistress forces you to take the day off, despite your pleas that you can work, you really can. The last thing you need is more sleep, after all, more time for vengeful gods to replay past lives for their leisure.

So after sixteen years of blissful ignorance, you know. You know of your love, you know of the curse, you know of the life that began it all. Sick emotions mix in your heart, syrupy and viscous and heavy, hope for a love as deep as your life before and terror for the heartbreak that will inevitably come.

And this time, you don’t have a loving mother who knows of your predicament.

You imagine Cupid laughing in the heavens as you face his wrath once more.

. . .

It happens by chance, purely by chance. On your days off, you sometimes like to visit the marketplace, see if you can find some fun trinket to send back to your family or to keep for yourself. Today is no exception.

Something makes you pause in front of a jewelry stand, a stand you don’t usually visit because your apprentice’s pay, though enough to support your family, doesn’t allow for expenses on jewels. However, a thin chain necklace catches your eye as you walk past.

It’s silver, shiny, not a hint of rust on the metal. A small black stone hangs as a pendant and you’ve never seen it before, but you can’t shake the suspicion that this is a necklace you wore in a past life.

A necklace Changbin gave you in a past life.

Uneasiness grows in your mind the longer you look at the chain. How did the jeweler even get this chain? Who took it away? You’re pretty sure you wore it until your death, and you don’t believe your previous mother, based on your dreams, would have taken it away.

You think you want it back.

Pointing at the chain, you look up at the jeweler. “How much is this?”

“Eight gold pieces.”

Your heart sinks. A day’s work gives you five silver pieces, and there are twenty silvers to a gold. Most of your money goes back home, leaving you with only a little pocket money of your own – certainly not enough for a piece of jewelry worth eight golds. Lips pressed thinly together, you nod before beginning to walk away.

A voice stops you, a familiar voice you’ve never heard before. Not in this life, at least.

“Wait!”

You turn around, slowly, slowly, as Changbin’s voice asks the jeweler, “Eight gold pieces, you said?”

It’s him, you think faintly. It’s really him. Different hair, skin a shade lighter, but his eyes… his eyes are the same. The absolute same.

He doesn’t look at you with any recognition, though, and he’s dressed in silk, indicating high status – at least, higher than yours. So you politely avert your gaze, trying to calm the pounding in your heart.

Eight golds appear on the counter, exchanged for a small silk pouch with the necklace inside. You’re about to walk away – why did Changbin stop you, anyway? There’s not a single chance he would give it to you – when the pouch appears in your line of vision, held by a familiar hand.

You blink once, twice, then look up from the pouch to the man holding it in his palm.

Only one thought runs through your mind.

There is no way, in two consecutive lives, that Seo Changbin would offer me the same necklace.

Your confusion must show, because he laughs. “It’s for you,” he says (and oh, gods, his voice makes you want to just sit and listen to it forever). “It looked like you wanted it, no?”

Thankfully, your vocal cords remember how to speak, even if your mind doesn’t. “I couldn’t possibly take such a gift, sir,” you say, stepping backward slightly. “You paid for it – it’s yours.”

“Then it is also mine to give. And I believe you would appreciate this much more than I.” He unstrings the pouch, slips the chain into his fingers. “May I?”

For any other person, you would have said a polite no before speed walking into the crowd, hoping to disappear between the stalls. Now, though, you stay in place, rooted to the ground under Changbin’s steady gaze.

You nod.

His hands are gentle in their feather-light touch against your skin, clasping the chain around your neck. The pendant hangs at the base of your throat, cold at first, but slowly warming with the afternoon sun.

It feels right.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he’s finished, sinking into a low bow. “Thank you so much.”

Changbin smiles, loosely taking your hand. He drops a butterfly kiss to your knuckles and you physically have to restrain yourself from gasping too loudly, because – oh, because –

The spot where his lips touch your skin sends warmth spreading throughout your body.

“It was my pleasure,” he says, still smiling. “My name is Changbin.”

I know.

“May I know yours?”

“Oh.” You smile, hoping your lips don’t tremble too much. “I’m Y/N.”

His smile widens at your words, making your heart flutter in shy embarrassment. “I hope to see you around once more, Y/N,” he says.

A sudden burst of courage turns your smile a little teasing. “Just once?”

Changbin’s laugh – it’s shy, it’s a shy laugh, your heart can’t take it – makes you want to melt into the ground. “Maybe not,” he finally says, ears red. “Maybe many times more.”

. . .

He keeps his promise of many times more, appearing again on your next day off, then again, and again. If possible, you seem to fall in love with him even more than you did in your previous life, his laughs tickling your heart, his smiles like sunshine against your skin.

Deep down, you know this won’t last. If Cupid took your love away so harshly in your last life, he won’t hesitate to do it again, possibly with even more malice. But Changbin is intoxicating, pulling you toward him like a leaf on the wind, forever fluttering in the breeze, only resting when the air does.

It’s not even just Cupid. At least before, you and Changbin were on equal footing – one a healer, the other a poor runaway. There was no status difference. Now, though, Changbin wears silk while you clothe yourself in homespun fabric, finer perhaps than a peasant’s, but homespun nonetheless. No matter how daintily you embroider the cloth with leftover threads from your work, it will never match up to the rich, gorgeous clothing of the nobles with whom Changbin must walk.

Such differences inevitably drive a wedge into a love that could have been.

It starts after you go to the market once, twice, three times, and Changbin doesn’t meet you at any of the stalls. It feels empty, walking around with no one by your side, and you’re just wondering if something’s happened when you receive a note written in your love’s handwriting, asking you to meet him at midnight where you first met.

He arrives a bit later than you, footsteps softly padding across the empty market. For a moment, you only stare at each other, faces lit just barely by the light of the moon.

Changbin breaks the silence. “I’m getting married.”

The words send a knife into your heart, but you try to ignore the pain. It was expected, you tell yourself, expected of someone with Changbin’s high status. The two of you could never end up together, not a sewing apprentice and a member of nobility. “I see,” is all you say.

For the first time since you’ve met, Changbin looks broken. It hurts your heart and you want nothing more than to hold him close until that expression disappears, but you can’t. You’ve barely even touched – you don’t have a right to hold him the way you’d like.

“I don’t want to be,” he says.

Your hands shake slightly with your reply. “Why?”

“Because…” Changbin’s voice almost fades into the silence. “I think I love you.”

His words should make you feel happy, should make fireworks burst in your heart the way they did when Changbin kissed you in your past life. And yes, a small part of you jumps for joy. But a larger part withers with disappointment, with pain, with the knowledge that none of this will come to good.

“Y/N.” His voice turns insistent. “Don’t you… don’t you feel the same?”

You swallow. Take a breath. “I do.”

A lovely brightness enters Changbin’s eyes, hope filling his face. You hate yourself for having to crush it. “But you have a duty to your family.”

“We can run away,” Changbin says, taking your hand. You want to melt yourself into his touch, rest in his warmth forever. “We can run, Y/N. We don’t have to stay.”

Only the greatest force of will allows you to pull your hand away. “I have a family, Changbin,” you say, trying not to focus on the light that’s fading out of his face with every second. “I have to support them. And you… you have a duty to the village.” You swallow. “We can’t run. It’s too selfish.”

He doesn’t blame you, you know. He understands what you’re saying, has probably already thought of it himself. Still, it doesn’t stop pain from breaking the glass in his eyes, gaze becoming fragmented as he nods once, twice. “I know. I just thought…”

Changbin never finishes his sentence. In fact, you never speak again. He walks you back to your mistress’s house that night, squeezes your hand once under the moonlight, then disappears back into the darkness.

And with that disappearance, he leaves your life forever.

Over the years, you hear stories of Changbin’s lovely partner, her flowing hair and vibrant face and pretty smile. You hear stories of how much they love each other, the children they have, how well they watch over the village together.

It doesn’t matter how much your heart hurts, you tell yourself every time you hear one of those stories. It doesn’t matter at all, not even when his wife commissions a dress from the shop you now own, years later. It doesn’t matter when Changbin comes with her and stands in the main room silently as you take her for fitting, and it doesn’t matter when his eyes linger slightly on you when you lead her back out.

You exchange no words that day, but you’re certain Changbin sees the black gemstone still resting at the base of your throat. He makes no obvious expression, but when his eyes flicker over it, their light dims the slightest bit.

In this life, there are no kisses, no hugs, none of the passion you shared in your first life. Instead, you love through vivid conversations, knowing smiles, and in the end, the barest brush of his hand against yours before he leads his wife out of your shop.

In the end, you never marry. Instead, you spend the rest of your life sewing until your eyes go blind, leaving you all too much time to contemplate everything you’ve lost.

Which is worse, you wonder, losing your love to death or to societal pressures and another woman? Which is worse, never knowing how Changbin suffered as he died, or knowing that he’s doing well without you?

Which is worse, having your love die in a land unknown, or having him live so close, yet so far away?

. . . . .

It continues, over and over again, endless cycles of living, remembering, loving. He’s a thief and you’re a merchant. You’re a shop owner and he’s a soldier. Both of you are orphans, living on the street. None of it matters, not gender, not occupation, not social status – no matter what, you end up apart.

With every lifetime, the dreams grow more vivid, as though to make sure you don’t forget a single instant of the love you experienced, the love you could never see to the end. You’d think that the lines between each life would grow blurred as each one passes, but they only grow sharper, more defined. It’s impossible to forget how many lives you’ve lived, not when Cupid forces each one to remain in your mind, endlessly playing in your dreams time and time again.

On your twenty-ninth reincarnation, you experience a month’s worth of dreams in your silken bed, the bed of a noble heir who can have nothing to do with the boy who stays by their side day and night as a bodyguard and nothing more. You wake up every night stifling screams resulting from twenty-eight lifetimes of broken hearts, muffled cries and tears that bring Changbin running into your room, asking if you’re all right, reminding you that you’re safe.

Physically, you agree. You trust Changbin entirely – he’s proven more than capable of protecting you after multiple attempts on your life – but mentally? Emotionally?

How can he protect you from a god’s wrath, a wrath he doesn’t know of, when you can’t even protect yourself from that same wrath you’ve known of for twenty-eight, soon to be twenty-nine lifetimes?

You try to harden your heart, speak to Changbin a little less, spend more time focused on your lesson books and less on Changbin’s lovely face, but it’s impossible, you find after several months of this forced silence. It’s impossible to ignore the allure of your guard’s lips, his entrancing eyes, impossible to ignore the gentleness of his strong, roughened hands guiding you through life.

But with every chaste kiss, with every stolen hug or brush of skin, you know, deep in your heart, that something will befall your love. Something will tear you two apart.

When he dies, stabbed in the chest by a traitor to your family, rage drives you to take the knife that fell out of your love’s hand and shove the blade into the attacker’s heart. It drives you to cry, to weep, to wail to the sky as Changbin’s skin grows cold, the remnants of his last “I love you” still hanging on his lips.

Watching your love die in front of you, you decide, is the worst punishment of all. Nothing, absolutely nothing could be worse than this, knowing that Changbin died because of you, for you, without a singular doubt in his mind as he did it because he knew you would do the same for him.

Moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating Changbin’s blank face and the blood on his chest. As people begin entering the room, pausing at the carnage next to your bed, you raise your head, tears still flowing down your face.

“YOU SELFISH GOD!” you scream at the cold moon, resisting the arms tugging you away from the body of your love. “YOU SELFISH GOD! I GAVE YOU TWENTY-EIGHT LIFETIMES OF MY LOVE, AND YOU WANT MORE?”

Someone’s speaking, trying to make you hear their words over the raging of your voice. You don’t care, violently wrenching yourself out of their grip to stay thrown over Changbin’s body, tears mixing with his blood. “COME DOWN AND FACE ME!” you gasp. “COME DOWN AND TAKE MY LIFE, DO ANYTHING, I DON'T CARE! FACE ME, YOU COWARD!”

Strong hands, too strong, containing none of the gentility Changbin used to show you, begin pulling you away. You thrash in their grip, still staring at the moon. “I WISH HE NEVER MET ME!” you scream as they drag you out of the room. Blood stains your nightclothes, sticky against your skin. “I WISH HE NEVER MET ME, NEVER DIED FOR ME, DO YOU HEAR?”

. . . . .

The god grants your wish.

. . .

You regret it more than anything in all of your now-thirty lives.

. . .

To know of your love, but to never experience any semblance of it in your entire life? To know of a certain Seo Changbin, but to never meet him, never know how he is, never see him once in over fifty years of living?

Torture.

. . .

From your sixteenth birthday, when you begin having the dreams, until your death well into your fifties, there’s only pain, endless pain, marred by a piece of disgusting hope that rests in your chest, a piece of hope that keeps you praying that you will see him just once in this lifetime, that you’ll know his face and he’ll know yours.

. . .

It becomes so clear as you grow older that you will never know the Changbin of this lifetime, if he even exists. You will never touch his skin, see his smile, bathe in the glory of his laugh. You’ll never kiss, never experience even the briefest joy of seeing his face.

But your heart hopes, anyway, even though your mind sees reason. It prays, refuses to accept the truth.

. . .

Hope, you decide, is a weapon. A weapon far deadlier than the sharpest sword or the heaviest club, a weapon wielded by only the most intelligent of tyrants.

. . .

Apparently, you go mad towards the end of this life. You can’t blame those who eventually put you in an institution, over fifty years old and withering away. They don’t know who Changbin is. They never will.

You never will.

. . .

You blame the dreams. If you didn’t know of your previous lives, if you didn’t know Changbin existed, you might have lived happily – well, maybe not happily, but you’d be content, at least. You wouldn’t be wishing you were dead every minute of your existence.

. . .

You die in that institution, supposedly of a wasting disease, but more accurately of a broken heart, a heart even more broken than the one Changbin left behind that first life when he never came back.

. . . . .

Your forty-sixth life is first one in which you end the love with death, not Changbin. Looking back, it was probably better for you, you suppose, because you didn’t have to feel the pain of losing your love. Maybe this was Cupid’s laughable attempt at some sort of mercy.

You loathe it anyway, loathe it almost as much as the lives – yes, plural by now, which automatically cancel anything Cupid tries to do to make up for it (if the god is even trying) – where you dreamt of certain sparkling eyes and a lovely smile but never met them face to face. It’s not quite as horrible, but nearly.

To know that your love had to deal with any measure of the pain you’ve felt for so long, the pain you wouldn’t impart on even your worst enemy, is unimaginable.

It’s ironic, too, considering your occupations in life. You’re a healer on the battlefield, wearing the strip of blue silk on your arm that denotes your immunity to the opposite forces. He’s a soldier on the same side, though he has no protection other than his skill from enemy swords.

You are sworn to heal. He is sworn to kill.

Isn’t it strange, then, that fate wills you to die first while forcing Changbin to live?

You weren’t supposed to be killed in war. Your healer status, that piece of blue silk tied around your arm, was supposed to protect you from enemy blades. But some unsuspecting enemy soldier, perhaps not seeing the blue amidst the dust of the battlefield or genuinely just not caring for the rules of war, drove their blade into your back as you knelt over a fallen man of your side.

Within minutes, you had succumbed to darkness. The pain of dying, the blade in your back wasn’t even the worst part.

All you could think, after all, as you lay there gasping, was that he would have to learn of your death from finding your body, that you wouldn’t even get to say a proper goodbye.

. . . . .

It’s a pitiful, desolate figure who sits on a clifftop fifteen lifetimes later, blankly staring at an expanse of open ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below, contemplating every single one of the sixty-one lives you’ve lived so far.

You married Changbin in this one, this sixty-first life. You married him for the first time in sixty-one lives, made your vows with him, kissed him under a shower of flower petals.

It didn’t change your fate, not even when, unable to have a baby of your own, you adopted your first, then your second child. It didn’t change anything, not when Changbin had a duty to this village that you couldn’t interfere with. It didn’t change anything, not when pirates came ashore and massacred the village population, killing your two children and half of the rest of your family.

Changbin threw himself from this very cliff, you remember, threw himself to a watery death rather than die at the hands of the pirates who came to raid the town so many years ago. He was brave to the last, fending off invaders even when countless others had thrown down their swords, and he never lived to see the defeat of the pirates whom he died fighting.

You hug your shoulders tightly, staring down at the waves crashing against the rocks. With all that’s happened to you over sixty-one lifetimes, who would blame you for tipping off the edge the same way Changbin died, albeit much less heroically? Who would blame you for giving up in this life, giving up in every life if you knew just how badly it would end every time?

“You’re right,” a rich voice sounds behind you, a voice that you once heard in person, many centuries ago. “Who would blame you? Not even I would.”

Your eyes slam shut, refusing to gaze into blood red. You don’t speak.

A sigh passes from the god’s lips, breath puffing softly. Where the air hits your neck, you feel your skin curdle with disgust.

“It’s no use not speaking,” he continues, a hint of amusement tinging his voice that makes your hands curl into fists. “I can hear your thoughts.”

A snarl twists your lips. “They must be very loud,” you snap, words dripping acid.

More silence.

“You hate me,” he finally says.

You breathe in, out, in, out. Calm, you tell yourself.

“Why wouldn’t I.”

A pause.

“Perhaps you can elaborate.”

For the first time since they appeared, you turn around, eyes blazing, to stare into the red gaze of the wrathful god who cursed you. “I would rather throw myself off this cliff,” you seethe, “than relive my lifetimes in front of you.”

Is it remorse that glitters in ruby eyes, pity that rests in their shadows? Whatever it is, it makes you smirk without mirth, lips curling without cheer as you turn back around to watch gray waves crash against the cliff. It doesn’t matter how a vengeful god feels after lifetimes of revenge. Apologies from the curser mean nothing to the spite of the cursed.

“I made mistakes,” the god says simply. “I acted rashly. I should not have taken my anger out on you, and certainly not with so harsh a punishment.”

You want to snort. “I am ever grateful you realize after sixty-one lifetimes of wrath,” you say, acid practically burning a hole in your tongue. “Now quit with the blather.” You don’t care that you’re staring at a god who could smite you down a thousand times over with a single flick of their finger – they’ve already hurt you too much for it to matter anymore. “After so many years of never answering my calls, you finally come, unbidden. Tell me why you’re here, or I will jump off this cliff.”

“I’ve come to offer an exchange,” they say. “It is impossible to erase a curse, but I can impart it on someone else.”

In a flash, you’re standing, staring the god dead in the center of their bright red eyes. “You said you could read my thoughts,” you snarl. “Tell me, God of Love, what I’m thinking right now.”

They raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want it,” they say calmly, though surprise coats their words. “You have no one, then, on whom you would impart this curse?”

“When I tell you,” you snap, “that I would not wish this curse on my worst enemy in all of my sixty-one lives, I do not lie. That –” you take a breath – “that is how much you have hurt me.”

Astonishment shows itself in the god’s gaze. “I don’t understand,” they say, for the first time looking bemused. “I have given you everything, dying first, dying last, watching him die in front of you, never seeing him in a lifetime –”

“You don’t need to remind me,” you cut him off. “I know it very well.”

“Then you would not even give this curse to me?” they ask. “Not to the god who has shown you so much pain?”

That almost gets you, almost. The desire for revenge claws its way through your chest, begging to be released in a monstrous cry of pain, but you rein it in with a scoff. “For a god of love,” you say, turning back around, “you really understand nothing of it.”

More silence.

“I will leave you with two gifts,” the god finally says. “Two gifts to try and make up for what you have lost.”

You suppress another snort.

“Your love will remember you on your one hundred and first lifetime,” they continue. “When the curse is over, your love will remember you, will know how you have lived one hundred lifetimes without him.”

The words, acerbic with derision, fall from your lips without missing a beat. “Will I remember him, then, or will you take that away from me too?”

A short pause. The air seems to grow slightly warmer, as though the god has been angered, but it cools quickly. “You will remember him,” they reply, voice thinner with a tinge of frustration.

You smirk.

They clear their throat. “The second gift you will find when you return home.”

You give no response to that, only stare resolutely at gray waves, feeling the ocean spray tickle your skin. The god must disappear at some point, because when you finally turn around to return home, they’re gone. But once you enter your empty house, there’s something on your table, something that sparkles in the last glimmers of sunlight peeking through the window.

You pick it up, eyes narrowed, and almost immediately drop it.

A thin silver necklace, polished to shine, with a small black gem as the pendant.

Though there’s no way to prove it, you’re sure this is the very same piece of jewelry that Changbin gifted you so many centuries ago, two lifetimes in a row.

The chain trembles on your shaking fingers as you place it back down, carefully, so carefully, like it’ll explode any second. You go to bed that night wondering if the necklace will have disappeared by morning, but when you wake up after a fitful rest, it’s still there, glittering on the table.

You wear it for the rest of this lifetime, hiding it beneath your clothing so no questions are asked. And when you feel you will die soon, you carefully place the chain in a small box and bury it just outside your home.

You’ll find it in your next life. You’ll find it in the next, then the next, time and time again until the end of your hundred-lifetime punishment.

It’s a small comfort, that simple silver chain with the little black jewel, but it’s a comfort nonetheless, a piece of your love to carry with you until the end of your times. Even if it was given back by the god who cursed you.

. . . . .

Years trudge along, years of waiting and waiting and more waiting for the torture to end. More death, more illness, more societal pressure to drive you two apart. In five lifetimes, you die first. In the others, Changbin either leaves you to face the world on your own, or you never know him at all.

It seems that even though Cupid may have felt some remorse for your curse, that didn’t stop the god from finding new ways to hurt you.

At some point, the lives finally begin to blur together. There have just been too many. If you tried, you could probably piece them all together, work out the details of how the two of you lived and how you were ripped apart, but after seventy, then eighty, then finally ninety lifetimes of broken hearts, it becomes too painful to relive.

(As you near the ninetieth lifetime, if you’re lucky enough to be born to a family who cares, someone always comes running in for months to the tears that stain your cheeks through dream-filled nights. You must have helped send so many people to an early grave with the endless screaming they would wake up to on the nights you dreamed of particularly painful lives.)

There are two saving graces to this pain, and as much as you hate to admit it, they came from Cupid. The god never deigns to meet you again (something you’re grateful for), but their gifts keep you from losing all hope as you near the end, the blissful end of your punishment.

One, the necklace. In every lifetime, no matter how painful, no matter whether or not you find Changbin, you find the thin silver necklace from your previous life. And no matter how rusty the chain gets, how dull the jewel becomes after years of wear, it shows up shiny and polished the next time you find it.

Two, the knowledge that Changbin will recognize you that first lifetime your punishment is over. You don’t have to keep track of your lifetimes, don’t have to count them until the hundredth has come and gone, don’t have to live any unnecessary lives with the fear that Changbin will be taken away from you suddenly and horribly.

As much as you loathe saying it, these gifts give you the slightest bit of hope that keeps you going.

So you trudge through lives, living as a tailor falling for a shoemaker, a nurse who comes to love a bedridden patient, a rich socialite who wants to marry the son of your family’s sworn enemy (this one’s interesting, quite like Romeo and Juliet, really. In your next life, when you dream of it, you wonder if Cupid met Shakespeare after the playwright’s death and decided to have a sick laugh at your expense). Seventy passes at some point, then eighty, then ninety.

By your hundredth life, you aren’t entirely sure what number you’re on. You think it must be ending soon, what with all the dreams your seventeen-year-old self had to suffer through, but it hurts too much to pick them apart and count. When Changbin doesn’t recognize you, though, a student at the same university as you, you resign yourself to several more lifetimes of heartbreak. It’s too much to hope for at this point, too much to hope that you’re on your last cycle of punishment, that the next time you live, you will be able to love Changbin wildly, freely, without a care in the world.

The dreams come once more in your hundredth and first life. It makes you despair that your punishment isn’t over, not even now (because though you don’t dare to freely pray, hope still buries itself deep in your chest, allowing Cupid to wield it like the monster he is).

Cupid assured you on his second and last visit that you would remember Changbin when you met him, though. You don’t like it, but hope only grows when you recall his words. Blind, blind hope.

It’s a cold morning, bitterly cold, when you roll out of bed to go to work. Eyes blinking blearily, you fumble around the cabinets for a package of coffee before remembering you ran out yesterday.

Just my luck, you think, scribbling “coffee” onto the grocery list on your refrigerator. You shove the piece of paper into your pocket, hoping you remember to go shopping later for whatever’s on the list. Your roommates are out of town, so you can’t rely on them to get anything this time.

Bitter wind slashes at your face as you walk to the small café just down the street for your daily fix of caffeine. By the time you’ve reached the shop, your nose is already stiff with cold, and the steaming cup of coffee the barista presses into your chilled hands only briefly warms your skin before you have to step back into the cold.

The bus will be coming soon, you note, checking your phone for the time. Steps quickening, you bend your head into the wind and set off for the stop.

So focused on your destination are you that you don’t notice the person until it’s too late. You smack right into them, sending them lurching into a nearby pole. They fall to the sidewalk as you spew apologies from freezing lips, holding out a hand to help them up.

They take your hand, squeezing with a grip that seems a little too familiar to be coincidental. A familiar sensation of warmth, a lovely, dreadful warmth, spreads through your body, emanating from where the stranger’s hand touches yours.

You freeze, eyes hardly daring to look up and gaze into someone who might be Changbin, who might be the love of one hundred of your lifetimes. You don’t even know whether to hope it is him, because if it is, will he finally recognize you after so many cycles of pain? Or will this just be another love that ends in heartbreak?

Slowly, slowly, your gazes meet.

It’s him.

It’s him.

It’s him.

Lovely brown eyes, eyes that throughout twenty, fifty, ninety years of pain, have remain unchanged in their depth and gentleness, stare into yours. Your breath catches. The coffee in your hand drops to the ground.  

It’s really him.

Belatedly, you realize he’s still on the ground and give a quick yank to pull him up. You try to apologize, both for hitting him and for the coffee that’s spattered onto his shoes, but your vocal cords won’t work. All you can do right now is stare.

He doesn’t recognize you. He hasn’t reacted to your touch, hasn’t given any indication that this is anything more than a chance meeting, an everyday occurrence where a stranger bumps into him (albeit a little harder than normal). You’re about to retract your hand, to force your vocal cords into giving an apology for smacking into him, but then he opens his mouth and speaks words you never dared to believe you would hear.

“It’s you,” he breathes, gripping your hand even more tightly, almost involuntarily, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded to the earth. His eyes, now wide with confusion and awe, search your face greedily. For what, you don’t know, but you’re doing the same, even though you’ve seen his face millions of times by now over a hundred lifetimes.

“It’s you,” he repeats once more, raspy voice breathless with emotion. “It’s really you.”

Finally, your throat manages to choke something out. “Changbin?” you try, words small and soft, conveying all of your disbelief in that one single word, that one single name. “Changbin?”

He says your name, then, says it once, twice, as he keeps staring into your eyes. It sounds like honey on his lips, sweet in a way that makes you heady with bliss, and only the biting wind keeps you rooted to the present, reminding you that this is real, this is not a dream, that this is real, completely real.

Slowly, naturally, one of your arms curls around his waist, just as his hands rise to cup your cheek. His fingers are cold against your bare skin but you lean into his touch, pulling him closer, closer, until your faces are only inches apart.

“It’s you,” Changbin murmurs, still as though he can barely believe it. “It’s really you.”

A strangled sound escapes your throat, something between a sob and a laugh all at once. “You remember,” you choke, eyes beginning to fill with warm, salty tears. “You remember, Changbin.”

He cups your cheek with an ungloved hand, cold skin brushing against yours with a gentleness that makes you want to melt. “I do,” he replies, voice almost cracking with emotion. “I’m only sorry I didn’t remember before.”

In your previous lives, time and time again, you kissed Changbin’s lips. It was always lovely, absolutely lovely, lovely in a way that made it feel like a field of flowers blooming in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. But there was always a lingering desolation on your part, a despair born of the knowledge that this love would not last, that Cupid would not allow you to see it to its natural end.

Today, Changbin’s lips taste of sunshine and honey, dew on green grass on a summer morning, the excitement of a first snow, nothing reminding you of a lingering heartbreak to come. You can’t even feel the bitter wind with him pressed so closely to you, lips molding against yours as his hands cup your cheeks.

The last walls on your heart crack down, walls formed with the knowledge of your hundred lifetimes of punishment. From the broken walls springs a new warmth, a sparkling warmth that you can’t even find the words to explain, a warmth that spills through your body and makes you feel full, happy, joyous in a way you’ve never felt, not once before in your hundred lifetimes of heartbroken love.

When you break away, tears are streaking down your cheeks. Changbin’s eyes glitter, too, but the smile on his face is radiant as he gazes at you.

Cupid’s punishment was cruel, you know, crueler than it had to be. It was harsh, evil, almost wicked in the pain he inflicted on you. But even though the vestiges of that pain still line the edges of your heart, it’s easy to ignore it in favor of staring at your love standing in front of you as a wobbly smile of the purest joy finally begins to curve your lips.

Is this real? you wonder to yourself. Is this truly real, your punishment finally ending, Changbin remembering who you are and the lifetimes you’ve shared? This bliss, this love, this warmth… it all seems too good to be true.

As though he can read your thoughts (and perhaps he can – a hundred lifetimes of love have probably given him a window into your soul, the same way it’s given you one into his), Changbin grins, vibrant, radiant, warm even in the bitter cold. “This is real,” he says, lovely lips curved into a brilliant smile.

“It is?” you ask, soft, wondrous, childlike, hardly daring to believe.

He brushes away a tear on your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with the gentlest touch. “It is,” he whispers. “As real as your love for me, and mine for you.”

Time and time again, you burned your heart for Changbin, burned it with the love you felt for him over one hundred lifetimes of a curse. Time and time again, you swore at love, swore at the god who inflicted the curse on you without so much as an afterthought until sixty-one lives had passed.

But now, as you crush Changbin close, fitting your lips to his once more, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind and lose yourself in a kiss finally free of pain.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 slap in the face for Cupid fuck them)

[belliesandburps]

Our Favorites Handling Bellyaches - Part 2

I received plenty of asks about other characters responding to bellyaches, and so, here are another eight based off the characters requested!

Shoto Todoroki (My Hero Academia):  Todoroki is canonically pretty gluttonous, just not ravenous.  So he won’t rapidly stuff his face like Bakugou or Kirishima, but he’ll steadily eat a lot and keep going with that neutral look on his soft face.  I imagine, for the most part, he doesn’t get stomach aches because he doesn’t overdo it often nor does he really change up his eating habits too much.  But from time to time, he’ll try new things which won’t always agree with him or eat just a wee bit too much.  If something he ate isn’t agreeing with him, he’ll be very subtle but blunt about it.  He’ll have this mild yet notable look of strain on his face while using his cold hand to rub his belly.  The cold side always helps to ease his stomach, which was what his mom used to do whenever lil Shoto got a tummyache as a kid.  This might cause a few gas bubbles to gurgle up his throat, but he tends to muffle those in his mouth.  Now, if he overate, he’s kind of winded.  Todoroki will head to his room and huff breathlessly as he tugs his shirt up and exposes his taut, rounded belly, feeling up just how drum-tight it is beneath his hands.  He’ll use both hands to massage his stomach in that instance; hot and cold, and try to use those abilities to ease his gut while he massages the overstuffed cramps away.  When he’s especially full, his burps get much deeper and louder.  If he muffles them, they rumble quite loudly in his cheeks, or if he really needs to get it out, he’ll throw his head back and expel a DEEP belch, which always leaves him huffing with relief after and muttering a small ‘excuse me.’  He tries not to bother Midoriya, but he absolutely loves it when Midoriya rubs his belly.  Midoriya’s touch is always deeply comforting for him and not only eases his stuffed stomach but also makes him feel safe and secure.  Plus, he finds a little amusement in how flustered Midoriya always gets rubbing his tum.

Tamaki Amajiki (My Hero Academia):  Given the way his ability works and the sheer anxiety he feels, Tamaki is incredibly prone to tummyaches.  Canonically, just thinking about something will make his stomach hurt.  Anxiety-induced tummyaches leave Tamaki whimpering and shivering fearfully as he crumbles to the ground cradling his gurgling gut, and whining that he wants to go home.  It’s...kind of the cutest freakin’ thing ever.  But given how his quirk relies on food, Tamaki will very often try new and exotic meals or eat things that don’t agree with one another, which gives him a really gnarly stomachache.  When that happens, Tamaki’s stomach is pressing out noticeably and rock-hard to the touch.  He’ll groan with a notably nauseous look on his face and find himself stifling a series of wet, gurgling belches, some of which he can’t hold in.  He gets very embarrassed about burping in public, but in these circumstances, he’s too nauseous to get anxious and nervous.  Instead, he’s resisting the urge to throw up, and desperately rubbing his belly to settle it down.  Fatgum or Mirio always suggest he drink some ginger ale to settle his tum down.  Problem is, ginger ale makes Tamaki burp REALLY loudly, and even if he’s nauseous, if he ends up letting out a HUGE burp out in public?  He may literally die from embarrassment.  Tamaki’s also a really hungry lad too, so he tends to overstuff himself from time to time.  If he does, he can sport a pretty sizable belly which he won’t admit feels REALLY satisfying, but less so if he overdid it and is suffering some seriously painful grumbles.  When Tamaki is full to the brim, he’ll whimper at the realization that his belly is very visibly bloated and everyone can see it.  He gets even more embarrassed when anyone wants to touch it or even rub it, making him whimper about wanting to crawl in his room and never leave.  But when he’s packed to the brim, he’ll use the powers he gained from whatever meat he consumed to more rigorously rub his belly, especially octopus tentacles.  Doing so works wonders for settling his stomach, but also makes him incredibly burpy.  He’ll try his best to stifle them but many will roll out of his mouth and be both throaty and surprisingly big.  Tamaki generally is a pretty burpy lad, simply because of how his stomach works to intensely process everything he eats for power.  And it’s part of why he dreads eating out with anyone.  But Kirishima and Fatgum are always amused or trying to top him, while Mirio just laughs and tells him he’s got skills.

Dabi (My Hero Academia):  Dabi’s canonically got a weak stomach.  He actually felt sick dealing with Spinner’s driving and complained about having a pretty bad stomachache.  Like Natsu, I think Dabi gets motion sick very easily.  He admits he doesn’t do well in cars, so I think the bumpier the ride the worse off he gets.  If the league is in a van together, Dabi will be in the corner, doing his best not to groan miserably while his stomach churns deeply and unpleasantly from how turbulent it’s getting.  He’ll be muffling really wet belches behind his fist, groaning after each one and mumbling that he feels like shit.  Sometimes, he’ll burp so hard that his stomach lurches and he has to clamp his mouth shut to keep from throwing up on the spot.  A good few times, the league has had to pull over so Dabi could rush out and puke off to the side of the road.  If he throws up, Dabi gets really pissed out and starts shouting at Spinner for being such an awful driver or getting mad at Shigaraki for not having Kurogiri transport them to where they need to be.  He hates showing weakness around the other villains, which is why he shows a lot of anger instead if he feels queasy.  As such, if Dabi overeats or drinks too much and gets full to the point where he feels sick, he’s less annoyed and just groggy.  He’ll slump back on his couch and unbutton his pants to give his belly some breathing room and really knead into his tight, bloated gut with both hands to try and settle it down.  When he’s full, he tends to have really deep burps, which he freely and shamelessly lets out.  Sometimes, he’ll slap the side of his bulging belly as hard as he can to let out the biggest burp he possibly can in an effort to bring whatever relief he can manage.  Dabi knows how to burp on cue, so he’ll often gulp down air and belch it back up to try and ease a lot of the pressure festering in his gut.  He also loves having his belly rubbed for any reason, so running your hands across his taut, distended middle will always help settle it down and leave him humming softly to your touch.  If he’s relaxed enough though, that can also get him ‘riled up’ for NSFW shenanigans.

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland):  Idia is both canonically gluttonous and canonically works himself into getting some pretty gnarly tummyaches all the time.  The mere thought of having to be around people twists his poor tummy into knots that can make him sick.  When he works himself up, poor Idia will whimper and cradle his stomach while it gurgles in discomfort.  He’ll actually tear up a little bit and whine about needing to hide out back in his room, unless Ortho drags him back into place.  The little robot will offer to rub his big brother’s tummy to make it feel better or suggest they get something from Sam’s shop to help settle Idia’s stomach.  Idia will be a whimpering, whining mess either way.  He also tends to give himself really bad hiccups when he’s anxious and nauseous.  He gives these loud, adorably high-pitched hiccups that leave him whimpering and covering his mouth, tearfully worried that someone’s gonna get really annoyed with him for being so loud.  When he’s overstuffed because he ate way too much without even realizing it (as he tends to), Idia will groan and sit down on his bed, massaging his bulging belly and feeling it gurgle and churn heavily beneath his hand.  Idia’s natural warmth processes what he eats faster than most people, which gives his tummy a much softer, sloshier feel to it when he’s stuffed to the brim.  So when he rubs, he’ll actually knead into his temporary belly fat, crooning at how good it feels.  But being stuffed also makes him pretty burpy, especially when he’s just binged on a bunch of sweets, junk food or soda.  Any time he ever eats, he’s in his room. So, if he’s alone and he ends up letting out a huge burp, Idia will cover his mouth but actually giggle with amusement.  But if the Prefect is in there with him rubbing his belly when Idia burps, he’ll whimper and apologize profusely.  If he knows the Prefect likes ‘em, he’ll still whimper because he’s embarrassed about the way the surface of his soft, plush belly ripples when he burps really loudly.  The Prefect will insist that they like that too, and Idia be flustered because he’s not used to people being attracted to him, so he’ll try and hide behind his sleeves adorably or bite on his oversized sleeve anxiously. 

Venom (Spider-Man):  Venom is a ravenous eating machine, so there’s very, very, VERY little that can upset that perpetually hungry belly of his.  But one thing we canonically know doesn’t sit well in Venom’s stomach is other symbiotes OR extra spicy stuff.  So if Venom gobbles up another symbiote, he’ll store it in his belly trying to absorb it, but the thing will savagely thrash around inside of his belly, seeping out to the surface.  Doing so will make Venom very gassy, and he’ll end up burping uncontrollably while fighting to keep the rogue symbiote back down.  Sometimes, Venom will burp so hard that the symbiote will partially spew out of his slimy maw, only for Venom to grossly slurp it back up before it can escape.  If he has to hold it in long enough, it will make him very nauseous, to the point where his burps grow wetter and he ends up looking miserable and whining at Eddie to do something, which Eddie will just exasperatedly tell him this is entirely his fault.  When it comes to overeating, Venom literally can’t eat too much food to make himself sick.  Sooooo, the only overeating he does is if he ever tries to eat more than one person at once, or tries to eat a REALLY big enforcer.  So, if Venom has two dirtbags squirming and thrashing in his belly or just a really really REALLY big guy, Venom will be immobilized.  He’ll be sitting on his thick rump, groaning with his slimy tongue hanging out of his maw while his massive boulder of a belly thrashes around violently.  And the end result will leave Venom groaning and belching hard enough to shake the ground itself.  And if you think Venom has it bad now?  Wait til Eddie has to sleeve it off and wakes up to the mother of all bellyaches in the morning.  Venom is usually good about burping up the bones of his digested prey before letting Eddie take over, but Eddie will still be unbearably bloated and feel utterly nauseous when he awakes to this huge, taut belly that almost makes him look pregnant.  When that happens, Venom’s tendrils will slither out and rub Eddie’s aching belly all over to try and settle it down with Venom assuring him that they’re okay.  Eddie’s only response will be a record-shattering belch and a miserably groggy groan while Venom cackles and says he’s not too shabby for a human.

Rin Matsuoka (Free!):  This shark-toothed lad has an appetite to spare, and also gets stomachaches a lot from not being careful about when he swims after eating.  The latter has seen him throwing up from time to time.  But when he gets cramps from swimming too fast, his stomach feels harder and gurgles a very thick, acidic-sounding gurgle.  When that happens, Rin becomes a nauseous mess, groaning and muffling really wet-sounding burps, some of which he’ll just let out carelessly, too sick to care.  Haruka and or Makoto (dealers choice) usually try to help by rubbing his aching stomach sensually.  Sometimes, this helps quell the ache in his gut, sometimes, it’s too great to prevent him from spewing.  But he’ll always moan and lean into their touch, desperate to have his belly rubbed, even if it’s in vein, because it still feels amazing.  If Rin ate too much, his belly will be surging out and resting heavily against his pelvis, churning intensely and leaving Rin practically weighed down by his own gut.  Rin has a serious stomach capacity and he can be pretty shameless.  So when he’s overstuffed, Rin tends to burp a lot.  He’ll knead his bulging belly and push out some huge, rumbling belches that force their way up his throats for a good few seconds straight and end with him moaning with relief.  He’ll actually have a lot of pressure stored up from overeating.  So after one really good burp, a good few throaty ones will follow back to back after the biggest one, and usually end with a really long one to punctuate his fullness.  When that happens, Rin just smacks his lips and gives his belly a resounding slap of satisfaction, just feeling relieved at getting the pressure out, and no shame whatsoever.  He’s also a giant tease, so if he sees his partner blushing, he’ll flash them a wink and ask them if they enjoyed the show.

Shiki Granbell (Edens Zero):  The precious friend-loving boi is wild to his core and extremely excitable.  And since he’s a gravity-defying powerhouse, he doesn’t get motion sick at all.  He DOES, however, make the mistake of eating too much and flipping upside down.  When that happens, poor Shiki’s tummy will be giving him all manner of grief.  It will feel rock hard and visibly bloated, and Shiki will be a mess, whimpering and burping in his fist while whining about how much his belly hurts.  When he does, he’s practically begging Rebecca to rub his tummy.  Soon as she does, he’ll turn into a freakin’ puppy, the way he smiles and rests against Rebecca’s sides.  That look of happy contentment on his face is all the reason Rebecca needs to gently massage his aching belly, no matter how many times she warns Shiki to stop and think before using his powers after eating.  He’s also a very hungry lad, and as such, has overstuffed himself time and time again.  This usually leaves his belly big and rounded, sitting heavily on his lap and sloshing heartily from how hyperactive his digestive system is.  When he’s stuffed, he tends to get really big, rumbling burps that leave him huffing after they end, but he’ll still whine about his belly hurting.  Rebecca will remind him that it’s his own fault for eating so much, but all he has to do is whimper pitifully to unwittingly win her over to start rubbing his belly.  Like before, he’s very docile and contented when her hands are on his stomach.  But if he’s stuffed, Shiki tends to burp really loudly to relieve the pressure in his rounded stomach, which always leaves Rebecca staring blankly and asking Shiki to excuse himself.  He’ll just shrug and complain that he can’t help it.  And then he’ll usually punctuate it by thumping his chest and letting out a HUGE burp that leaves him sighing with relief.  But when he sees Rebecca’s eye start to twitch, theeeen he’ll sheepishly mutter a small “s’cuse me... ^^;”

Inuyasha (Inuyasha):  Inuyasha’s a bit of a shameless, greedy pig.  So he tends to overeat often or eat things he shouldn’t.  In the latter’s case, Inuyasha’s stomach will be very noisy, churning up a storm and leaving him grimacing with discomfort.  He’ll complain about his gut hurting, really kneading into his stomach, then telling Kagome to rub his belly...before faceplanting when she barks at him to “SIT!” for making demands.  After that, he’ll growl but groan at how much worse his stomach feels from the sudden smash he was forced to do because of his beads.  Then he’ll groggily yet begrudgingly ask “very nicely” if Kagome can rub his belly.  When she does, despite his crass attitude, he’ll pant happily, letting his tongue hang out at how good it feels having his hard, churning stomach tended to by Kagome.  If he overeats to the point where he gives himself a gnarly bellyache, he’ll be stuffed with a huge, medicine ball of a belly, one that’s forced his robes open while it weighs heavily on his lap.  In cases like that where Inuyasha is full to the brim, he’ll knead his giant belly with his palms and claws and work up some of the largest belches he can manage.  Kagome will get annoyed and tell him to stop being so gross, but Inuyasha will complain he can’t help it, he’s too full and needs to ease the pressure somehow.  He’ll really knead and press into his belly too, making his fingers sink into his soft, currently sloshy gut to force up some huge, throaty belches.  In fact, if Kagome complains that Inuyasha’s being gross, he’ll make it a point to make himself burp louder and more frequently just to troll her, especially since he knows if she uses the curse against him when he’s that bloated, he may be sick and even she doesn’t want that.......she’ll totally get back at him after he finishes digesting his heavy meal though...

And that’s your lot!  If you guys have any more characters you wanna see write ups for, hit up my ask box!  :)

[valdemart]

Valdebreed Part 2

Us: *votes for courtier content*

Nyx Hydra: Yeah we’re not gonna actually do that lol

I tried to keep Valdemar as in character as possible but honestly? Fuck cannon. If Nyx Hydra isn’t going to feed us, I am! Come get y’all lunch!

NSFW ValdemarxReader Consentacles, way too much cum, dirty talking Valdemar, breeding kink, ruined furniture, pet names, after care probably a rushed intro but fuck it.

After pulling yourself together and freshening up in a very well-earned bath, you made your way back to your room where Valdemar waited.

The fire place had been lit. It was also the only light in the room. If it hadn’t been your own room, you might have bumped into something as you made your way over to where you could see Valdemar.

When you first moved in, there had been a chair in the library that you had fallen in love with. It was an oversized arm chair, big enough to curl up in, made of burgundy velvet. You sank into it like a spoiled house cat and read for hours at a time. Valdemar had found you napping in it at some point and shortly after you had found it had been moved to your room. That’s where they sat now. Naked.

 Valdemar never disrobed. Ever. Honestly, you had wondered a few times if their clothing wasn’t part of their actual body. This wasn’t their ‘real’ form, after all. You wouldn’t have been totally shocked to learn that their coat was just their true form’s arm or something, molded to look like clothing. Apparently, you were wrong. All of their skin was the same olive hue as their face and hands, the only other skin of theirs you had really seen before. They were a rectangular shape, their waist only dipping in slightly beneath their ribcage before fulling out to their hips. Their ribs were almost all entirely visible, the shadows cast by the firelight highlighting each groove and protuberance. And sitting on those ribs were the tiniest handfuls of breast tissue, with such perfectly symmetrical shape and nipples that they very obviously weren’t ‘human’. You’d only ever known breasts to be perfect mirror images of each other on statues. You could follow their legs up to their lap, but then all you could make out was shadow.

They were breathtakingly and horrifyingly beautiful.

“I think I’m…overdressed,” you said, your voice so thick with anticipation that you had to pause to swallow before you could finish your sentence.

“For now. I thought this particular situation called for some vulnerability on my part. Disrobe, Little Mouse.”

You slid off your robe and let it pool at your feet, leaving you as bare as they were.

“Come to me.”

You were before them in an instant, desperate to be near them. On them. Filled with them.

“Sit.”

You straddled their lap slowly, knowing the extent of their strength, but still slightly put off by the sight of their ribs. Parts of your brain seemed to have mistaken them for human.

You shivered as your chest pressed against theirs and your nipples hardened against their cool skin. You noticed quietly that theirs were still unerect and soft against you. Their hands wrapped around you gently, their fingers somehow sliding perfectly into the spaces between your ribs where they connected to your spine. If they squeezed, they could probably collapse your whole chest cavity. You had seen them crush a femur in their fist like it had been made out of sugar.

“We’re you ready to begin the experiment, Mouseling?”

“Kiss me first?”

Their lips were cold and thin and they felt so good against your heated skin.

There was loud crackling noise, too loud to have been from the fireplace, followed by a grotesque, wet sound. It sounded like someone was butchering a chicken right in front of you and you would have fallen back to the floor in surprise if Valdemar hadn’t been holding you.

You only saw it for a second but, in the firelight, you saw a cleft on Valdemar’s sternum that started to split open further like the skin was being retracted. You yelped and Valdemar reached out to grab your chin and hold your head upright.

“Look at me, Mouseling. Look only at me.”

They released your chin but your eyes never left theirs. You watched the flames behind you flicker in their red eyes as something unimaginably horrible was happening right below you. The sound traveled downward until it stopped where their genitals would be. Then it was quiet again. You could feel the dark energy emanating from just a few inches below you, but your eyes never left Valdemar’s and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or servility.

“Such an obedient little thing,” Valdemar praised as they brushed your hair off your face. You were sweating despite the chill of their skin and your head was swimming. Their magic tended to do that to you. Asra’s magic and your own magic never made you sick, but Valdemar’s always did. You weren’t sure if it was because it came from a different source or because it was too strong for you. Asra said it was a much older, much darker magic, and that even he wasn’t completely sure he understood it. That had upset you at first, and you tried to argue with him that Valdemar wasn’t evil and you were sick of everyone’s constant comments about it, but he merely placed a finger to your lips to silence you and said ‘I said dark energy, not evil energy’. To Asra’s credit, he handled your relationship with the doctor better than most people had.

But what would he think about a baby?

“Allow me to show you just how satisfying that which you fear is.”

Several appendages the width of a finger started to caress your body, making you jerk away against them, but Valdemar held you steady and your eyes never left theirs. They stared at you, unblinking and smiling softly, as their little tendrils fondled your stomach and legs. They were wet and soft like small tongues, and they left trails of moisture wherever they lapped. While they were a little unnerving, the sensation was like nothing you had felt before. Especially when they found your breasts. They flicked against your nipples flatly before wrapping around them to tug lightly. Your clit pulsed desperately with each little caress and your wet hole clenched around nothing, leaving you feeling desperately empty.

You groaned softly and bucked forward, trying to guide even one of those tendrils to where you now needed it most.

“Impatient?” Valdemar asked, knowing damned well the answer to their own question. “We have the rest of eternity.”  

Still, the tendrils descended then. Some softly pulled your lips apart, exposing you, while others tasted you. Two alternated flicks against your clitoris while three or maybe four slid into you at varying depths.

You keened and bucked into Valdemar’s lap, but you knew nothing you could do would change anything they had planned for you.

“Let’s get you nice and prepared to take my seed.”

It didn’t take long for the appendages to lubricate you, perhaps excessively so. Your body was wet now, and it caused you to shiver against the air.

The tendrils working your body withdrew, and you whined pitifully.

“Hush, Pet,” Valdemar said softly, though clearly unannoyed.

There was a singular tendril then, thicker than any of the last ones. A blunt head prodded you gently for a moment before sliding fully inside. Its girth stretched you, but whatever Valdemar had covered you in took away all resistance.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and, for a moment, you were worried they wouldn’t come back. This was so much more than anything Valdemar had ever given you. You doubted Valdemar had an established phallus, especially since they shapeshifted every other part of their physical form. This huge thing inside of you was made specifically because they wanted you helplessly full, pinned from the inside.

“I c-cant…Val…”

You weren’t asking for them to stop. No, this was delicious. You need this. But it was so, so much.

“You can. And you will.”

The phallus withdrew slowly to the tip before sliding back in just as slowly, all while Valdemar didn’t move a muscle. It was so typical of the demon, to wreck you without any indication of physical response on their end. They were going to fuck you and anyone watching would think they had nothing to do with it.

Valdmar’s…cock? For lack of a better comparison in your mind fucked you in the uniform way Valdemar did anything. While it lacked human variation, it was unrelenting in its endeavor to impregnant you.

“I can feel your little cunt milking me. Your body’s as desperate to get pregnant as you are.”

Your head dropped with a heavy moan and Valdemar shifted back, taking your full weight against them. If this dicking didn’t kill you, them talking like that certainly would. The heat inside of you was becoming unbearable. All you needed was a little bit more.

“Can you go faster?” You asked softly as you jerked your hips forward into their thrusting.

“Weren’t you just saying you couldn’t handle things as they were?”

You whined pitifully at their teasing.

“Please? Please? Please?”

With each beg you humped yourself harder. You could feel your climax mounting and all you wanted was to finish with Valdemar this deep inside of you. You weren’t above begging.

“Of course, Duckling. We need your orgasm to move my ejaculate to your womb.”

Their weird medical speak should have been embarrassing, but your walls fluttered around them.

One of their hands found the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist. When Valdemar pushed back into you, it was a sharp, hard thrust and you cried out before you fell forward. You moaned loudly into the fabric of the chair and Valdemar held you against it.

“I have you.”

The tentacle started to piston in and out of you, the speed of the penetration through both of your fluids making the most unholy of sounds, like someone drowning in mud. Your body jiggled and shuddered against Valdemar as they remained perfectly still while they kept you caged to them.

“Val! Val-d-de-mah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

It was right there. You could feel yourself about to snap. Just a little more. Oh, please just a little more. Oh please oh please oh please oh please

A few of the small tendrils from earlier reappeared to lap at your clit and you screamed into the chair. As you contracted around the still thrusting phallus, you could feel it erupt. The fluid coming out of it wasn’t hot or cold, but there was a ridiculous amount of it. It squirted inside of you before you felt it leak out around the two of you, quickly causing a puddle to form in Valdemar’s lap. Despite this, they were still moving in and out of you, fucking their cum back inside of you as it came out.

Too spent to try and wiggle away from the overstimulation, you whimpered for mercy.

“ ‘S too much. Val…”.

“I’m only trying to make sure you’re completely inseminated. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Despite their teasing, their tendril retracted out of you. You shuddered, both thankful for the break and grieving the loss of fullness.  

“Val…That was crazy…”

“Science often is.”

It wasn’t hard for Valdemar to maneuver you onto your back in their lap, despite you being completely dead weight. Hooking one arm under your knees, they elevated your lower body and cradled you.

“You’re being too wasteful with my sperm, Little One. You need to be more grateful.”

Finally able to look at yourself, you saw that you were bathed almost completely in black. It started around your breasts where the tendrils had played with you and you grew darker the further down yourself you looked. Of course, Valdemar came black. You doubted anything viable in terms of offspring would actually come of this, but the closeness, the intimacy, that was what you had really needed. The brain melting orgasm hadn’t hurt either.

“I love you.”

Valdemar hummed in acknowledgement before softly running a finger down your stomach, through the gummy pitch they had covered you in, before tracing small circles around your womb.

Every time the fire flickered, the lighting on their face changed, making them look like they were morphing briefly. You couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re going to have such cute kids.”