#who frankly this seems more directed towards

[dadsbongos]

a king, his advisor, and the betrothed

@toxycodone the fic is here fren

11 K words / warnings - reader has vag n wears a dress once, threesome WOAH, p in v + p in a sex, oral (m receiving), kabru is a fan of inappropriate workplace relationships

summary - Laios cannot find a suitor on his own, so Kabru is forced to summon an old... friend... for help.

~~~

“Just… someone you would like, then.”

“Someone I would like?”

“Yeah! If you like them, they must be good, right?”

“This isn’t about… ugh, fine.”

Kabru already knew exactly who to set up with Laios, but he wanted to grant himself a few more hours of delusion by drafting a list of desired traits.

.

.

.

A queen should be: diligent and humble, wise and patient. Honest.

Ideally, a short-lived king should marry from another short-lived race. Any children will therefore be short-lived as well, which Kabru considers highly preferable. Another tallman is his best option to keep infertility sparse.

Laios’ personality will need to be accounted for as well (Kabru finds that the longer he dawdles, the more fun he has hypothesizing Laios’ perfect match).

Laios, specifically, needs someone blunt and unencumbered by conformity -- the man seems to thrive when others feel comfortable speaking frankly with him. Someone from another royal court will not do, and especially not someone descended from direct nobel blood. Furthermore, Laios is clueless as to what his own title ensues, so he does little more for his countrymen than make appearances or pass budgets and bills. So for Kabru’s own sanity, someone intelligent and inclined to make Laios do his actual job is also preferred.

They must balance indulgence and sobriety for the man’s antics, as well as willingness to sit through Laios’ obscure personality.

Wait…

“No,” Kabru scratches that last half of his sentence, ink bleeding across the page, “What kind of matchmaker settles?”

They must like Laios, and Laios must like them. Laios is not a man Kabru can envision enduring loveless marriage, it’d be too awkward and the dolt would have it annulled.

Someone not petrified by monsters and intrigued by Laios’ strange personality, but also not so deranged as to be exactly like Laios.

Again, a single name comes to Kabru’s mind, but this time he does not put it off. He’s had his fun scheming, now he must draft a letter to the Northern Continent. To a village chief’s firstborn -- acquainted well enough with basic politics while also sharing a similar upbringing with Laios.

You’re perfect.

You’re also…

“An ex-party member?” Laios’ eyes skim over the contents of Kabru’s summoning letter, addressed at the top to you, “Cool.”

“Yeah, an ex-party member,” Kabru sighs to himself, imagining Rin beating him over the head with her staff right about now, “I think you should know, I briefly- ”

“Kabru,” Laios shakes his head, grinning, “I don’t care. If you trust them, I do.”

Briefly -- sure -- if an entire year and some months was brief. Kabru sighs louder and decides to let Laios find out on his own, since the king is so determined to look cool and easygoing.

In any case, you’ll be fond of Laios, Kabru’s certain.

Certain, and also dreading.

Year 512

“Where’d you find the space case anyway?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look!” Rin flings a gloved arm straight out, gesturing heatedly towards where the party’s newest member is staring straight at the first floor’s cracked ceiling.

Both hands squeezing the straps of your pack, you leave your throat completely exposed in order to gaze at a dark, faraway roof. The ease with which Kabru could slit your tender neck is comical, he finds it more concerning than charming. Any hoodlum or hooligan could rob and beat you blind and you’d be incapable of a proper defense.

“Let me handle it,” Kabru hopes to placate Rin with a soft grin, its success is limited because Rin’s known him long enough to push through his gushy exterior. She puts up no fight, thankfully, and let him approach you alone, “Hey!”

“Shh!” you hiss cutting your fingers along your jaw to silence him. His shock and horror at your rudeness must be visible because you wave that same hand around and smile, “Sorry. It’s just…”

Pointing up, your stare returns to the ceiling. Eyes wide and lips curled with glee. Kabru heeds and grimaces: glistening slimes the shade of clovers goop between gaping slashes in the ceiling. Pulsating and shivering as one beating organ, Kabru can’t think up a more disgusting sight.

“Slimes are sensitive to the heat we exhale, so the louder you are the easier they can find you.”

Blinking at you as inconspicuous as possible, Kabru asks, “Why stand right under them then?”

“They’re so weird. They don’t look intelligent, but they move around easily and developed such a scary way to trap prey. Pretty neat.”

Kabru has half a mind to cut you out of the party just for saying that, until you tack on a,

“Still super gross, though. We should move before they notice us.”

Kabru nods, watching you cross towards the rest of the party before following with a silent prayer that you’re not actually a monster fanatic.

His prayers are answered on the second floor -- your party is down, Holm and Daya crumpled over on opposite sides of the tree den. Kuro is strewn over a shaking, teary Mickbell with a bloody gash in his back. Rin has a similar slash, only deep in her gut and Kabru can tell she’s bleeding out fast.

While he prides himself on his wit and light thinking, Kabru is horrified by the sight of his party in agony. Planning so far ahead of himself he’s trying to scheme how to charm a passing healer into aiding Rin or reviving Holm, meanwhile he can’t even be certain he’s going to survive this attack. His own life is on the back on his mind, body stiff in preparation to swing his sword and cut off the chicken head of a charging Basilisk.

But how should he cut? It has to have a carotid artery, or a heart, but where? What if his strike is at a wrong angle and the snake side gobbles you all up.

Suddenly, the glint of your sword blinds him -- you snip the snake in half, exploiting the monster’s following stagger to round its body and stab through the Basilisk’s head. Tearing outward and splattering Kabru in blood as the beast drops.

He looks to you in silence, knees sore and wobbly and hands a shaking wreck.

Simply, you say, “The snake head is the real head, so if you attack that end first the chicken tail is distracted and easy to sneak up on,” then, you notice his trembling, “Oh, sorry…”

As if waiting for permission, Kabru’s body gives out once your hands find his shoulders. You smooth a palm over his back while shredding the loose material of your blouse to mop up the mess. Gently soaking Basilisk blood from his face with a frown marring your face, continuously murmuring apologies.

Kabru takes your wrist in his hand, blinking back his shock to sigh, “Thank you.”

Suspecting there’s more words jumbled on his tongue, you patiently wait that way: knelt beside Kabru as he squeezes your wrist.

“I think we should go back to the surface.”

You nod quickly. Much quicker than he’d assume you would given how directly you dealt with the terrifying Basilisk, “Do you want me to head back and get corpse retrievers? I doubt we could carry everyone up by ourselves.”

He takes note of how you specifically exclude Mickbell, presumably due to the young man’s hysterics.

The sharp tang of raw iron is filling Kabru’s nose, he chokes on it. He can’t stand to smell it a second more.

“No,” but inhaling through his mouth makes him taste it, rotting each bud on his tongue, “No. I’m the party leader, I should get them.”

Your eyes are lidding, no shock or awe found in the twinkle of your iris -- you were expecting this response.

“Sure, Kabru, I’ll wait with Mickbell.”

You don’t call him out on it, though.

Once the party has been revived and Kabru’s thrown the men their coins, you suggest the crew return a floor above.

“I’m sure nobody wants to eat where they died, so let’s have lunch up there and save instead of visiting a stall,” you gasp quietly and cover your mouth, then deferring to Kabru, “If that sounds good to you? Sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly like that…”

“No, you’re right,” even though he’s not looking to confirm, Kabru can feel Rin burning holes into his skull with her glare, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Secretly he’s glad no outsiders heard you make that call -- he isn’t ashamed to be bossed around by someone in a blouse, but he’s also not unrealistic. Others seeing that could threaten his meager status among the adventuring community. He’d be the wimp pushed around by his own members.

Interrupting his spiral, again, is you, “Okay, let’s get going then!” you clamp another hand over your mouth, “Right, Kabru?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it is just your party who only finds your zealousness comedic rather than an opportunity for mutiny.

Returning visit to the first floor proves you about as useful as the initial one did.

Holm and Daya are unpacking rations with Mickbell and Kuro straggling at the edge of the blondes’ conversation. Rin is fetching water. Kabru is watching you; and he knows he should be either helping Rin, or lecturing you to help Rin, but he keeps watching.

He cannot hear you, but he knows you’re speaking -- crouched to make eye contact with a pair of slight humans. Round cheeks and marblesque eyes tell Kabru they’re just scratching at maturity. Not even thirteen.

The shorter one, a boy with freckles, picks at tender plumes of skin around his nails, knees shaking. He finds no voice, but the girl beside him does. She squeezes the shirt over her heart and her brows furrowed with passion, he can barely make out the words: mage, fourth, corpse retrievers.

One of your hands is perched on your bent knees while the other grazes along the forsaken graveyard, your head tilts and if he really forces his ears then Kabru can hear you ask, “How did you get separated?”

The girl’s shoulders go lax, lip twitching down as she sputters a reply. The boy’s picking grows frantic, his head shaking and voice shivery (this time Kabru can pick up: without her, no chance).

Kabru’s gaze hones on you, dissecting each twinge in your face as you process the information. Daya and Holm’s voices become vague, like buzzing insects, even Rin’s agitated staring from the fountain is pushed out of focus. How will you react to these children?

It's a horrible story, he’s sure. He’s so sure it’s a truly heartbreaking tale about two little ones separated from their ward on a lower level due to a snap decision from fear. However, it could also be just that: a story.

Criminals banned from The Island’s coasts often seek refuge in the bowels of the dungeon. Kabru feels confident that as this dungeon continues to fester unconquered: criminals are beginning to raise their children here.

If you blindly follow them down, you’re a fool. If you hand over all your party’s gold, you’re a fool. If you do nothing, you’re heartless. Heartlessness can be worse than foolishness, at least fools have good intentions.

Fingers wrap around the stem of a limping flower and pull, cutting it clean from the floor and holding the plant for both children. You push your hand closer to the kids, waiting until the girl grasps the flower before speaking again,

Something long winded, and judging by the shudders racketing down the boy’s frail body something rather dismal too. Yet you’re beaming up at the children, then they’re smiling as well. Rising to your feet, you brush moss stains from your knees and wave the children off with a promise Kabru can actually hear,

“If my party finds any retrievers, we’ll send them down.”

With eager nods, the kids sniffle and affirm their bravery to you -- the girl cradling the plucked daisy to her chest. You return to your party’s camp and boldly declare,

“I think we should try reaching the fourth floor soon.”

Rin bonks you with an elbow to the side, “Where’s this enthusiasm when I needed help carrying the water?”

Rubbing the tenderized area, you laugh and accept her frustration, “Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Obviously,” Rin sighs, falling to her knees around the party’s temporary camp.

Kabru sits as well, still observing as you apologize to Rin again though your eyes trailing the kids as they heft food packs onto their shoulders and begin their trek.

Mickbell settles into Kuro’s lap, Daya has begun digging into her plate while Holm ensures everyone has a filling portion. Rin agrees to dissolve the tension, meaning you two can begin gaffing amongst yourselves. As if you never left, the party is normal.

Despite your itch to reach the fourth floor as soon as possible, you don’t mention the interaction whatsoever.

Overall, Kabru considers your first dive with the party a cohesion success.

Year 515

“Don’t speak over or interrupt. Got it?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious,” Kabru’s eyes widen a smidge, as if to force how pertinent it is that Laios absorbs this lesson, “I’m still upset about the meeting last week.”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t done talking,” Laios frowns, shrugging in an obnoxiously coy play, the worst part being that Kabru knows Laios does it in earnest. His stupid kicked-puppy stare is entirely genuine, “That guy takes long breaths, it’s hard to tell when he’s done.”

“Well try harder to tell now,” a wave of guilt hits Kabru in the chest, heart squeezing at the sight of Laios’ frown deepening, “I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I want this to go well.”

“I do, too, you know?”

Kabru finds that hard to believe, but Laios isn’t lying to him right now. He’d know otherwise. Whether Laios can make a positive impression will have to be seen, but the man clearly has no intentions of sabotaging himself.

For all his lackluster socio-political ambitions, Laios is still a good king: insightful to the experience of commonmen and quick to new ways of strengthening their country. He has yet to give citizens, or Kabru, valid reason to question his ability to rule.

“I’m sure,” Kabru turns in his desk chair, bracing his forehead with his palm, “Let’s get this finished then.”

“But- “ Laios hesitates when he’s shot an icy glare from Kabru, “But I’m so hungry…”

As if to punctuate his torment, Laios’ stomach grumbles. Loudly. Echoing through the informal setting of Kabru’s personal quarters.

“My poor royal majesty,” Kabru coos, inked with sarcasm, “Will you survive till lunch?”

Laios’ eyes go thin, arms folding, “Don’t demean me.”

“It’s one meal. You’ll hardly die. The faster we finish this paperwork, the quicker we can usher you to breakfast.”

“I want to go now,” Laios, with no sense of self, lays his lips into the crook of his advisor’s neck. Soft, plump flesh scorching Kabru’s pulse, then a cold flash of bone: teeth, “I’m starving.”

Bladepoint canines puncture Kabru’s skin, shock blinding him to the scathing scratch till after Laios has already pulled away. Saliva stringing them together before Laios snaps it, sloppily swiping the wrist of his sleeve across his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Kabru starkly avoids eye contact by glaring at the sheen of spit on his shoulder, cupping the inflamed flesh, “Go change your shirt now, it’s not a handkerchief.”

He doesn’t remember when he first felt comfortable being so venomous around Laios, only that it's easier than trying to be pleasant all the time.

“After I eat?” Laios prompts.

“After you eat,” Kabru massages his tensing temples, working away the headache as it builds.

Upon Laios’ exit, Kabru traces the shallow indents with his fingertips -- lashes fluttering against his cheeks at the resulting faint sting. Now he’ll be forced to find a new shirt of his own, one that hides his bruising mark.

Year 513

“As long as we don’t piss off any living armor, we should be able to get to the fourth floor, at least,” you nod to yourself, hands steady and body firm as you hold up your homemade map of the area.

Raucous groans follow your cheery assessment, and a cursory glance back shows your party in disarray: Rin and Holm have heavy, discolored bags beneath their eyes. Daya is leaning against her axe with quaking arms while Mickbell coils around Kero’s shoulders. Even Kabru can admit he looks worse for wear, or assumes he does because he certainly feels at his worst.

“Oh, unless you all want to head back?” you roll the map up and wave a hand dismissively, almost seeming ashamed of the previous suggestion. Cautious to maintain a soothing and even tone, clearly doing your best to prevent any of them from feeling coddled or mocked.

Not that he truly wants to, but Kabru agrees, “Probably for the best. We’re running low on food, so we should save what we have for the journey back.”

“Makes sense,” you don’t appear disappointed or discouraged, “There’s always next time.”

“Enough optimism,” Mickbell whines, “It’s making me all nauseous.”

“Be nice,” Rin chastises, then looking at you forlorn, “You could probably carry on without us.”

Her dejected lilt prevents any accusations of wanting you to go it alone.

“No way, I’d go crazy by myself!”

Kabru reads that instantly as a lie -- if your scrunching brows and fidgeting hands weren’t telling enough then perhaps you don’t remember confessing to him your days as a solo adventurer.

You could easily carry on without the rest of the party. Hell, you could even join a better, stronger party -- the Toudens, maybe. They’d chomp at your skills if they cared even a little about their fellow men. Kabru bets you would even be able to form a party of your own with ease.

“We’re strongest when everyone’s at their best, after all,” you reassure, turning your back on the dream to hit fourth floor this crawl in favor of aiding your party’s exhaustion, “As long as we can go that deep eventually, I’ll die happily.”

Kabru doesn’t bring up how rapidly approaching the date for you to sail back home is, he gets the sense you wouldn’t want him to.

“Well don’t go keeling on us as soon as we do,” Rin’s scowl loosens, only slightly, when you smile in return and loop an arm through hers.

“Of course, not, Rin. Who else would terrorize you if I died?”

Quickly, the mage’s dark eyes flick to Kabru before returning to you, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, duh.”

Her gaze lingers on the way you’re staring at Kabru and how Kabru stares back. She must read his fondness because her forehead wrinkles up and she tugs you forward, “Yeah, duh.”

Year 515

Kabru’s foot taps impatiently, knowing it’d be improper were he to rush over and help you down from the carriage himself. But forgive the man, he’s in a hurry to have you at his side again.

He wonders if you wear the same perfume.

He wonders if you’ll take to Laios immediately, or will it take the entire two weeks before your wedding ceremony for you to warm to him?

Most of all, he wonders if he can compose himself during the entire courting process.

“Hey!”

Kabru’s mind snaps back into the present at your call, you’re charging over with an ecstatic wave. He waves back, calmer and centered towards his chest.

“It’s great to see you again!” you effortlessly knock the polite handshake Kabru extends aside to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Imagine my surprise, the first time you send a letter is to try and marry me to a king!”

“I never found the time to write back when things finally got interesting,” Kabru bluffs, returning your hug. Warmth spreads between the both of you, if he focuses hard enough he can make out the dull thud of your heart, “Hopefully this makes up for it.”

“Definitely,” you pull back, rolling your eyes, “Father made my brother village chief while I was on The Island, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do there.”

“Perfect time to get one up on your brother. Even just marrying into royalty is better than village chief.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Let’s meet Laios Touden first. I remember he was kind of a weird guy, no?”

“He still is,” Kabru shrugs, turning to guide you into the main hall as men lug your bags towards the castle’s south wing, “He’s nice, at least. Wants to make living easier,” he glances back at you over his shoulder, “Handsome, too. You must remember what he looks like.”

“I remember he was big.”

“Strong, yeah,” Kabru slows to match paces with you through the rolling corridors, “Nice jawline, pretty eyes, and the slope of his nose isn’t terrible. He’s kind of an outstanding specimen, physically I mean.”

“Oh…” you press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at his rambling, “So his looks do the heavy lifting?”

“Just something to keep in mind,” he pauses outside a set of tall double doors, one hand braced against the hanging, solid black handle, and the other drawing circles into his temple, “His unique personality hasn’t faded with becoming king.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s a word for it.”

Laios is slumped comfortably back into his throne, sunlight complimenting his bored expression before he notices the pair pushing through his grandeur. Immediately, his eyes sink into you, scrawling from the top of your head to your feet in blatant observation. Staunchly, his gaze remains respectful to your modesty, indicating he’s purely sizing you up; perhaps confirming whether or not he could take you in a fight. Or to use you as a meager replacement for his monsters, studying your anatomy and mentally attaching tails and horns and heads where he sees fit.

“King Laios,” you politely remain behind Kabru. Your own gaze lurches over the king’s body as well, much less clinical than his examination -- you already know you could take him in a fight. What you want to imagine now, is if he’s the outstanding specimen that Kabru claimed, “So nice to see the Golden Kingdom for myself.”

“Prettier than the North,” Laios, much to Kabru’s unspoken irritation, scratches the back of his head without grace, “You’re from there too, right? How has it been? I haven’t been in awhile.”

“Oh, you know,” none of the men from your village look like Laios, despite their hard labor they aren’t built like him. Big. Beefy. Chewable also comes to mind; you could chew him up and be full of protein. From the little pouch of his stomach you surmise he isn’t cut or excessively defined, which drives you mad, “Same as usual. Cold and quiet.”

“Mhm. How about the monsters up top? I don’t think anybody from my village was willing to slay them,” he folds his arms, legs spreading as he readjusts for comfort, head ticking curiously, “I’ve been thinking lately that they could be overrun by monsters if nobody fights them off.”

Kabru’s irritation grows, having to claw at his thighs to restrain from choking the man. He may be older and bigger and more powerful than Kabru is, but Laios is the most painfully oblivious man in the world. He just has to be. He’s so focused on not attacking his king that Kabru almost misses how eyes scald his side at the mention of monsters overtaking the North.

“I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” and you mean that, the North truly is as boring as it was when you were growing up, “Maybe more acceptance for magic, but that’s mostly to combat the increase in ghosts.”

“Increase in ghosts,” Laios’ eyes bulge, posture straightening out in vivid excitement, “Do they know why there’s so many? Do they just wander around, or do they remain in cemeteries?”

“Ah, King Laios,” you try to hide the way your eyes bounce repeatedly towards Kabru’s rigid frame. His hands are balled, even shaking, and his stare is aimed over the king’s right shoulder, “Perhaps we could get some privacy before discussing such things?” you boldly step forward, correctly assuming Laios would take no offense at the intrusion, “We should get to know each other on our own.”

“Oh, right!” Laios waves a dismissal towards Kabru, apologizing for holding the man so long.

You don’t ask Kabru if he’s okay before he leaves, but you take one of his hands and squeeze it gingerly. Smiling tenderly and bidding him well. A soft halo of gold ringing around your head from sunlight pouring through glass panes.

“Don’t let- ” just as he’s apologizing for his king, you silence Kabru.

“I’ll form my own opinion,” you release his hand, still grinning, “You trust me, don’t you?” he nods, of course he does, “So trust me to gather my own thoughts, okay?”

Oh, God that cannot be a good sign.

Please, please, please -- he’s contemplating getting on his knees to pray outside the doors -- please don’t let his reaction to Laios’ monster obsession make you hate the king. You’re his only choice, the only one that will do!

You’re kind and strong willed and beautiful and he’d love to have you living under the same roof as himself.

Not that that has anything to do with his decision. No, no, that would be idiotic.

That would be the worst plan he’s ever planned in his entire life. So, he’s glad it's separate from his real motivation.

At least, he’s glad until that night. Alone in his bed with only moonlight shining along his pristine sheets.

For hours Kabru has been cooped in his room, and technically he’s been cooped in his mind even longer. Since the second a passing pair of guards relieved him from lingering outside the throne room, Kabru blindly stumbled through his messy thoughts.

Worse now than ever before is the desperation to know. Clawing him apart from the inside out. He needs to know.

To know what you’re feeling. To know what’s being said. To know why you two never came out, even hours after Kabru left. In explicit detail, he must know. What you like about Laios, what you don’t, what you find attractive, if you got hot in the face when you saw him, if you ever felt that way about Kabru, if you think Kabru’s attractive, if you accepted his invitation just because Kabru sent it or because you truly wanted to meet Laios.

He can’t just ask, so now he must meticulously set up a series of precision events to fish the information out.

Because your hesitance to emphatically accept the proposal confuses Kabru. You’ve never been particularly picky about partners, but you’re not the type for manufacturing attraction to spare a person’s feelings. So theory one is that Laios is not physically appealing to you.

Though not even that explanation makes sense. To be short, Kabru doesn’t understand how you couldn’t be attracted to Laios. Such strong, determined features demanded attention; and trust, the attention would be positive.

Broad shoulders and meaty thighs, Laios’ build is admirable on its own: Kabru could sink his teeth into Laios’ bicep and never cut bone. Aside from that is the healthy fluff of blonde hair his king keeps trimmed, as well as his face. Remaining clean shaven gives an air of proper hygiene and self-sufficiency that makes Laios seem more attractive.

Kabru cannot fathom how you’re not preparing vows yet.

That thought makes him shoot up in bed, eyes wide and a hand curled into his churning gut.

Why can’t Kabru fathom how you’re not preparing vows? Why does he find it so peculiar?

That type of questioning, this obsession -- it implies Kabru wants to prepare vows, doesn’t it?

With ragged grumbling Kabru collapses back into his mattress, letting his fried brain melt through his ears as he finally attempts giving in to sleep.

…

He wakes to a nightmare the next morning -- you and Laios are alone in the great hall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the end closest to the kitchen. Chairs pushed so close the armrests are peeling against each other, elbows knocking as Laios forgoes all table etiquette. Not once do you scold or demean him. Instead seeming too engrossed at the ear-nibbling of shapeshifter trivia Laios is laying down.

“Did you ever run into one?” Laios asks, eyes a little too glittery for someone who must’ve woken quite early for this private breakfast, “My dad had our dogs follow herds so we could spot them in the flock.”

“Dogs can tell which sheep are fakes?”

“Oh, yeah! Dogs can tell by the smell,” Laios taps his nose, “I wonder what the difference is, don’t you? Do they smell more sweet, like dirt? Or do they have no smell at all since their illusions?”

“Maybe a Kobold would be able to tell you? Their anatomy is dog-like, after all.”

“I thought so, too! But there’s not many Kobolds native to the North.”

“Well, hopefully you can find out one day,” then you bite for more monster facts, “I did always wonder what my own shapeshifter could look like. Don’t they read people’s minds to make their copies?”

Laios’ silverware clatters away, tinking loudly on the glass plate, hands flexing hysterically, heart jumping to his tongue, “They do, they take other people’s interpretations of you to confuse your company into keeping it around.”

“How thrilling,” you muse.

“It’s a shame I’ll never get to see or make another one,” he lifts his fork, pushing meat and eggs around his plate glumly, “Would’ve been fun to see what you look like in my memory compared to the real thing.”

“You can tell me now,” your palm bares his shoulder, leaning over your chair and towards his own. Laios’ honey eyes dip, tracing the shape of your lips which makes you lean even closer, “How is it that you see me, Laios? Would I be flattered?”

“I hope so,” he blurts.

Kabru backs away, rattling door hinges before slumping back into the corridor. Rotten thoughts of how lovely you are corroding his brain. You’re so lovely to nip at your betrothed’s interest wholeheartedly, no matter how unconventional.

You’re so lovely it's all consuming.

You’re so lovely he can’t remember when or why, exactly, he fell in love with you.

You’re so lovely he thinks he might have just always been your emotional pin cushion.

There remains to be a single thing Kabru could name that made him fall in love with you.

Kindness is much too bland of a trait. And you wanted the wellbeing of others, but that’s something Kabru expects from people. You are pretty, but that’s no reason to daydream about buying a house together. Perhaps it was a combination of all three that mixed lethally well with how much time you spent together.

That, with how detrimental party romances are to group fallouts, maybe made you more desirable? Could that be it?

You were a new, fascinating person he couldn’t pick apart as soon as he gazed upon you, and you knew exactly how to swerve his expectations. You loved listening to him mutter about the interlocked nature of humans: one man cheating on his wife in Kahka Brud undoing a port in Melini. But you stepped away from interpersonal Island gossip. You could rattle out seven variations of man-eating plants but couldn’t stand to even look upon the vegetation without grimacing.

Approachable with a thin smile and batting lashes, beautiful and quiet. Very quiet. You hardly ask anything of others. It should make you seem ominous or menacing, but no part of him feels endangered by you.

Kabru always felt so comfortable around you that, despite knowing his other party members longer, he found you the easiest to converse with. Before he could realize himself, you’d crawled over so many emotional walls without letting him bypass a single one of your own.

You’re his worst nightmare, he craves you more than oxygen.

Year 513

The tavern door opens with an outrageous squeal. If the mood were different, then you would probably make a humorous remark about the aged hinges. But the mood isn’t different. Things are tense and he just wants to go home now.

Even twinkling stars blink away to avoid giving his humiliation anymore attention. Moonlight rudely oozes over you both, though, reminding him how much he prefers the sun. The moon always seems to follow him when he’s whirled in his worst turmoil.

You step into the tavern first, holding the cranky door open for him. He’d thank you like the upstanding young man his mother raised… if only the mood were different.

Silently, Kabru trails behind you, cheeks blistering hot and palms moist, with his head bent. You two make it back to the table circled by your party, sans Daya due to a more pressing engagement with her fiance. Rin’s perma-scowl cracks briefly into blatant shock at his slouch before schooling herself into re-wrinkling her face. Confusion curling into the folds of her glabella.

“What happened?”

Per usual, you answer for Kabru, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” anger seems to flash briefly over her for a moment, a spasm so minute only Kabru can spot it, “Really?”

He’s not surprised she’s upset about him, shamefully, trying to woo you during a night out with the party. What surprises him is that her anger is solely directed at you.

At least until you nod firmly, “Nothing happened, Rin.”

Then pity laxes her irritation, she spares Kabru a flicker of eye contact before mumbling an ‘okay’. She ends up remaining largely silent for the rest of the night, only extending responses when directly prompted.

What else surprises him is the ease with which you lie. Something happened, just not how he wanted it to play out.

Maybe he didn’t notice because of his drowned mood, but Kabru swears you didn’t exhibit any of your usual tells when you spoke.

(the fact he harps on your physical tells will make him so mad he cries later tonight)

Year 515

“He’s going to burn their ear off, I’m telling you…” Marcille grumbles.

“I think it's cute,” Falin grins.

“Of course, you do,” Marcille sighs, though smiling fondly at the girl while scritching around her plumage. Falin chirps happily and nuzzles into Marcille’s shoulder, “He’s your brother, you never think he’s as weird as he is.”

Kabru speaks boldly, which he knows is unlike himself but he’s so eager to show that he knows you more than them that he cannot stop himself, “They can bond over the monster talk, at least.”

“Are they even into monsters?”

“Kind of?” he backtracks, realizing that he isn’t sure how to answer her question, “They hate monsters, but they know a lot.”

“Good on you for finding someone like that, then,” Marcille shrugs, “They might actually have a good marriage.”

Kabru tenses, even though he shouldn’t (because he knows why you’re here, so he can’t exactly get depressed when other people bring it up), “Yeah. They will.”

“For a while, I thought you’d marry my brother,” Falin says suddenly. Eyes sharp on Kabru’s figure.

Marcille guffaws, “Why would you say that?”

She shrugs before letting her eyes relax to their usual serene state, “They get along well. And Laios likes him. Laios doesn’t usually like people.”

“I guess you have a point,” Marcille waves a figurative flag before gesturing to the room around them, “But we’re not planning their wedding.”

“Yeah…” Falin sighs like she’s the one most disappointed.

Kabru says nothing, only returning to the list of ale and wine suppliers eager to vend for the upcoming royal wedding. His eyes skim names he’s heard various reviews for, but his brain takes none of them in. Rather, he’s fixated on what Falin said.

She could see it?

Could they have gotten married?

If Kabru forgot you completely, or even better never met you, could it be him stepping up to the altar? Would Laios have him?

Laios doesn’t usually like people. but in crowded meetings, it's solely Kabru that Laios searches for. And it’s the sight of Kabru that makes Laios sigh in relief. And it’s the sound of Kabru’s voice that Laios waits for before delivering a response.

At dinner, back when they ate together before you monopolized mealtimes, Laios always ensured Kabru had twice his fill before calling it a night.

(“Even though we’re not fighting in a dungeon anymore, I still think you should retain your strength.”

“You sound like you just like watching me eat.”

“Maybe that, too. You have a nice mouth.”

Kabru never responded to that, too petrified over the implications. Now he thinks he probably should have, maybe it would have meant he’d be marrying a king.)

Falin was right in that Laios doesn’t take to people easily, and he’s sure that’s all she meant. But Kabru knows that her statement is a criminal oversimplification of Laios.

Laios likes people so much he’s gone on potentially endless, potentially fruitless, endeavors for them. Laios likes people so much he makes them harpy eggs because they seem minorly interested in monster cuisine. Laios likes people so much he makes sure they’re treated with the utmost dignity. Laios loves people, and suddenly the thought of you becoming one of those select people is getting harder to grieve.

Laios’ love is not limited, but now Kabru’s forced to come to terms with the fact that Laios’ romantic love for him is--

“So, did you pick yet?” Marcille and Falin are swatching fabrics from the cushy loveseat of the main library, “I’ve heard of a roach outbreak in Smisson’s breweries, so I hope you didn’t get attached.”

Kabru jolts upright and shakes his head, saying the first dumb thing he can think of, “I heard of that, too.”

Falin giggles, “He’s the one that told you about it, Marcille.”

“Huh? You’re kidding!” a furious blush overtakes the elf, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot that!”

Kabru shakes his head again, swallowing roughly, “It’s fine.”

Really, it’s all fine.

Year 513

“Everyone wanted to be here,” Kabru chuckles quietly, as if raising his voice could somehow wake the entire Island.

“I’m sure,” there’s no hint of sarcasm in your voice, “They were with me late last night, so… I didn’t really expect anyone to see me off,” you giggle softly, a hollow sound he doesn’t take very kindly, “I’m surprised you made it.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you gave the party,” with no decorum he scratches the back of his neck, and avoids looking you in the face, “It’ll be harder in the dungeon without you.”

“I believe in you.”

His breath hitches. He looks at you. A barely-there smile and tired eyes. It may be the most honest he’s seen you. He’s tempted to ask how you meant that ‘you’, but doesn’t.

He doesn’t even speak until you’re boarded -- until he’s forced to raise his voice so you can hear him over a bustling crew and fellow passengers.

“If I send letters, will you read them?” Kabru silences you before you can open your mouth, “Will you respond?”

Then, you’re smiling wider, and your eyes are tight with joy. It isn’t the usual siren cant of droopy lids, it’s pure elation. You’re laughing at his question, shoulders bouncing gleefully. You’re nodding. You speak between chortles, as if he asked you what color the sky was.

“Of course, I will!”

You look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you before.

“Okay, I’ll write you, then.”

“You better!”

Your ship rocks as it sets off from the dock, but you don’t disappear beneath the ridge. In fact, you almost hang over it, torso flattening against wood and nails digging for purchase as you wave.

Kabru waves back. He runs down the dock like a fool, barely catching himself from tumbling into the lapping ocean.

“Bye, Kabru!” you’re still smiling, bathed in soft orange and soothing yellow -- your voice grows distant over crashing waves, “I’ll miss you!”

He keeps waving. He waves and he waves and he doesn’t stop until your ship is behind the horizon. Only then does his hand fall to his side, eyes sopping wet and chest squeezing.

He feels pathetic.

He misses you already.

Year 515

Days prior this morning, the grand hall was cleared out -- pews replaced the needlessly long cherry oak dining table. Flowers plotted in tall carved vases with white lace and silk choking the necks, a velvet track from the altar through open doors to the courtyard. People from across the continents were invented, diplomats to friendly nobles to acquaintances Laios does not remember to true friends to your father and brother and Falin.

(“You don’t want to invite your parents?” Kabru re-evaluates his list of guests, “Seems uncouth, no?”

“What do I care?” Laios’ legs are splayed, thighs pressing against either side of the gold throne, “A wedding is meant to be happy, why would I need people I don’t like there?” he knocks a fist back into Kabru’s chest, letting his knuckles linger over the man’s heart only as long as he can say, “I have you, and my betrothed, and my friends. Really, that’s all I need.”

“It’d be rude to- ”

“I get it,” Laios’ hand falls back onto his armrest, fingertips skimming the rounded metal edge, “This is why I’m leaving it to you, I trust you.”)

Out of all the tedious preparation, dressing Laios was the most tragic in that the king hated everything the handmaids and servants stuffed him in. Countless hours were wasted before they begged Kabru to help, only then did the king settle:

No crown, terminally unsurprising, since Laios abhorred the weight and feel of it on his head. Rather, he would adorn himself with that dreadful Winged Lion’s pelt, and a vermillion cotehardie reaching mid-thigh with gold trim. Leather belt tethered around his waist gave the fabric shape whilst holding up loose britches. Daggered teeth of various beasts lined his neck, which Kabru was privy to each and every complaint over the sensory nightmare they provided. He’s sure as soon as Laios can, he’ll be tearing the necklace off.

Dressing himself, regardless of Laios’ multiple emphatic encouragements, was a similar exercise in disaster:

It felt massively inappropriate to wear something so shiny and attractive as gold on another man’s wedding night, even as Laios insisted Kabru wear whatever he pleased. Still, Kabru chose silver earrings and accents. Sparkling and flattering, yes, but nothing so bold. He did splurge with a sapphire blue kirtie that made his eyes shine brighter, and a simple chain of pearls. He felt attractive, and joyous.

Joyous for tonight. Joyous for a wedding! Yes, simply so ecstatic for tonight’s marriage.

Truthfully, Kabru is so overjoyed for his king, he really could just fucking die.

From joy. And happiness.

Because what makes it even better is how you look happy. Actually happy. No low gaze or siren simper, just pure, carefree merriment as you link hands with Laios. Reciting vows from a flushed, teary-eyed Marcille. Neither of you has that gleam or honeydew sparkle of pure love, but Kabru is good at his job: zero doubt swims in his mind that you two will be a pair truly enamored with each other.

His misery must be unfiltered in the back of the grand hall, far behind the rest of the wedding party, because Rin’s dark eyes are piercing through the side of his skull. She’s frowning up at him, arms folded.

She murmurs, “You should’ve said something.”

Kabru grins at her sardonically, “I should’ve broken up their engagement? You didn’t even like us interacting when they were in our party.”

“That’s- !” her cheeks stain red, an annoyed huff rattling her whole body, “They never told you why they rejected you, right?”

Kabru’s silence is answer enough. It’s also more unsettling to Rin than any dungeon monster she’d encountered.

“They knew that I wanted you,” Rin clears her throat, embarrassment trying to choke her into silence, but she overcomes it for the sake of her friend, “So, out of respect, you were refused and never told why.”

Kabru loves Rin, as a sister. He loves her so much he’d kill for her, because she’s like his sister. He loves her so so so much that he cannot even be mad at her, because part of him always considered her somewhat to blame for your rejection of him.

For an agonizing, silent few seconds, Kabru just stares down at her with those crystalline eyes. Blinking himself from his stupor, Kabru asks the dumbest question he could think of, “Did they want to say yes?”

Rin’s frown deepens, forehead wrinkling, “Is that something you really want to know?”

Laios is a terrible kisser, and out of respect you cover your mouths with a hand as he maps out your lips with eyes clenched. Kabru told him not to close his eyes too early, and naturally Laios did not listen. Thankfully you’re there, hiding Laios’ possible humiliation with one hand and guiding him with your other on his jaw.

“No,” Kabru sighs, “Not really.”

That’s the biggest lie he might’ve ever told Rin.

Still she pats his back sympathetically, even laying her head against his shoulder.

Celebration begins, food laid free for grabbing and wine flowing like water -- especially into Kabru’s gaping maw. It's sour on his tongue, but as far as he’s seen it's him alone that scrunches his face and shakes out his hair at the taste, which only has him feeling crazier.

.

.

.

“Isn’t this foul?” Kabru scoffs, slumped over one of the many strewn tables in the general ballroom, cramped posture making him seem smaller. Ordinarily this is embarrassing. Ordinarily he’s not drunk.

“I don’t notice anything,” Chilchuck swigs from the clear chalice in his hand.

Marcille takes a civilized sip for herself, unspoken concern that their friend’s taste in alcohol is not utmost dependable, “I don’t notice anything either.”

Kabru swirls his wine, staring into the dark spiral and wondering if a bug of some type sensed his grim mood and decided to drown itself and poison his cup.

“I’m going to get a new drink, then,” Kabru rises, bidding the pair well as he guns for the barrels of frothy ale.

People cheer and clack maizers, spilling various toxic cures onto the floor making his shoes stick with loud clicks. Something he doesn’t bother with knowing Laios will seek him out once the stains are discovered.

Laios, Laios, Laios: speaking of.

Kabru’s gaze floats across the party to find his king, who is staring off with hands fidgeting in the drape of his Winged Lion’s pelt as your father speaks. An unfortunate sight, one he’s itching to rectify when a lengthy gown flows into his vision.

Dashing and soft and yours.

Sage fabric glides along the floor, intricately sewn floral trim skittering along the ground. Flowers of lace and yarn decorate the bust and sleeves, even a crown of colorful buds blooms atop your head. Rings of gold link around your fingers. Hair swept away to unveil your face, coiled and braided with, unbelievably, more flowers dancing between the tresses. Faint lavender and tangerine lingers around you in a hypnotizing haze, culling lovestruck head-turns of men and women with your every step.

“Your husband’s alone with your father.”

“They’ll come out alive, or we’ll hear them killing each other,” you pull out a seat at the longest central table and gesture to the chair directly beside you, “Sit. We never got to properly catch up.”

Kabru sees you have wine. He suddenly craves the sour grape flavor (maybe all he was missing was the sensation of licking it off your lips). From what he remembers, Laios was holding wine as well. Kabru considers stretching out to steal a second taste.

Although, sugary enough is the sound of your voice, suddenly his fresh mug of ale is entirely forgotten.

“Kabru?”

You’re so pretty, Kabru could tear his eyes out now and not miss a single greater sight. Especially when you’re -again- bathed in the pouring gold sunlight through grand windows, tranquil beside him at the long table. As if there isn’t a single other spot you prefer, you sit right next to him with a chalice of the worst wine he’s ever had.

“Hey, Kabru…”

His hands shake with the need to hold you. Chest raging with his uncontrollable heartbeat. His head hurts with the knowledge that there really isn’t a place he prefers more than by you (even if he’s forced to drink alcohol so foul it's comparable to sewage).

“Kabru,” your touch startles him, pout and knitted brows capturing his whole attention, “You’re not even listening to me!” you laugh, shaking off his incompetence so easily it makes him want to thank you with a kiss, “Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” he lowers his head into his hands, “Yes,” he lies to you, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Poor thing, I thought you were better at holding your liquor.”

“Your memory is fading…”

“Oh, well, suppose me and the king will have to tuck you in. Make sure you get to bed safely without bumping into anything expensive.”

Kabru gags, pushing himself up from his seat and dashing towards the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach (wine, mead, beer, and beer’s good brother ale).

Tears sting his eyes, snot beginning to leak from his nose as he spits into the toilet bowl. You and the king. The king and you. You and Laios: married. Perfect union. And Kabru did it all to himself. He wanted so desperately to drink himself under the table to forget, and you just had to go reminding him.

You are the worst person he’s ever met, and so is Laios! Your commitment to respect is disgusting, and Laios’ trust in him is an absolute travesty. You two should just hurry up and keel over instead of shoving your romance in Kabru’s face; and if either of you ever thanks him for setting you up then he’ll gut you both that very instant.

Laios and you are terrible, awful, no good devils -- and he wants you both so bad he’s vomiting in the bathroom on your wedding night.

Maybe he can send you both off on a honeymoon? Yes, yes. And while you’re away, he’ll drown in responsibility by day and pretty faces by night. Upon your return, he’ll have forgotten he was ever smitten.

No, who is he kidding? That would be a pointless venture.

You’d be so giddy to tell Kabru allllll about your trip while Laios would show off trinkets he picked up with that charming smile, Kabru would fall right back here. Puking and crying. He should just resign totally. Rot away in bed and die so he never has to see either of you again.

How cowardly.

How unbecoming.

Kabru could kick himself.

Rin was in his position more or less (...less, though, definitely less) and still had the nerve to face him every day for years. She didn’t run away, and she didn’t make her party suffer because of her feelings -- so how could Kabru extend the kingdom’s wellbeing over his? Without him, Laios would socially drown with a village chief’s firstborn as a life preserver.

You’re smart and well-versed in reading others, but you’re not Kabru for God’s sake. You can’t apply half of what you know, not to mention you don’t even care to learn.

Wiping off his mouth and flushing the toilet, Kabru stumbles toward the doorway with a prayer in his pocket to find water soon.

Returning to the chipper scene, Kabru can instantaneously spot Laios flagging him down, with his spare hand curved into the base of your spine.

He dodges you both and retires to bed. Lightheaded and miserable, he’s asleep quickly.

Then, suddenly, he’s not.

.

.

.

He’s outside Laios’ room.

Did his feet carry him here subconsciously? How pathetic…

Kabru is fully prepared to turn back and amble to his room when there’s a sound from the other side of the door. A sharp gasp and whine, then your giggling, and Laios’ voice pleading for you to be nice to him. More murmuring, then a soft moan. A lofty sigh.

Song of a consummation.

Foolishly, Kabru hadn’t thought that your sex life was something he’d have to encounter directly. And despite knowing he should step away, if not out of honor then at least to preserve his own heart, Kabru’s curiosity bolts him to the floor.

He’s never seen Laios fuck.

He’s never seen you fuck, either.

He feels compelled to study -- how does your subdued front mesh with Laios’ eager hands? Which of you takes control? With his bigger size and more powerful title, one would assume Laios, but Kabru bets it's you. Will you make him wait? Would he dive between your thighs with fervor? How will the lip stain your ladies painted you with look slathered across Laios’ pale skin?

Despite knowing what it says about his character, Kabru stays. On some level to get it through to himself that you two are together and off-limits; and on a deeper, truer level because he’s sick in the head.

As was the plan anyway, until a booming, “Hey!” echoes from down the dim hall. A guardsman fast approaching from his patrol route. Kabru’s face is hidden by the dark, figure easily mistaken for a passing servant. But even if the guard could recognize him, would it matter?

What reason does the royal advisor have for lingering outside his king’s chambers so late into the night?

Lies fly through Kabru’s brain as the guard bristles closer, none of them plausible. Finally, the idea of killing this man cycles through his mind, and he reconciles with the fact that must be his only option to avoid an obscenity charge.

“Oh, you came!” a soft hand lands between Kabru’s shoulder blades, voice floating past him and to the guard now two feet away, “Thank you for your faithful service, but don’t concern yourself with him. Our king summoned him,” your laugh soothes Kabru’s tensed muscles, “I wasn’t sure he’d make it because of the hour.”

Kabru stares at you, not bothering to hide his confused, jaw-hanging stare as the guard retreats to his typical patrol.

A thin silk robe drapes over you, loosely tied at the waist and exposing much of your chest.

“I never took you for a pervert, Kabru,” such a mellow voice makes even your scalding accusation sound sweet. You whirr him around by the arm and lug him into yours and Laios’ newly shared room. All proprieties trapped outside but trepidation slithers through, lodging in his gullet.

Laios lays on the bed, exposed completely. Tousled sheets bunched between his hands and under his thighs. Cheeks flushed redder than the head of his cock, hard and slapped against his stomach. Wide spread thighs and heaving chest bountiful eye candy.

“How’d you know it was him?” Laios sounds devastatingly breathless, eyes low and ruby lips swollen.

“Hunch,” you answer plainly, petting down Kabru’s arm until your fingers lace with his.

Kabru murmurs your name, wide eyed. You knew?

Of course, you knew. How could he have thought anything else? Your calm nature about the whole ordeal solidifies that you must’ve known for a long while. Longer than him, even. When would you have figured it out?

“He’s beautiful,” you perch your chin on Kabru’s shoulder, cooing into his ear, “You were always so focused on his face, you’ve never gotten to see anything beneath his clothes, have you?”

Oh, right. The very first day you got here, obviously.

Laios rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, brows pinching in frustration, heated gaze straying from Kabru to you, “He’s going to touch me, right?”

“Depends,” your hands skim up Kabru’s spine, nudging him forward, “Kabru, do you want to touch your king?” one arm glides around his front, fingers toying with the band of his trousers, “And myself?”

“Uhhh…” can he be honest with himself? Can he lay himself bare before not one, but two people? Two people he’s interested in above all else. Heat laps from the barrel of his chest, scorching from cheeks to ears to forehead as sweat beads along his hairline and the back of his neck.

“I asked a question. I need a response.”

Laios’ cock twitches against his abdomen, throat croaking around desire.

“Yes,” Kabru exhales, heavy, barbed, and thorny, cutting him up inside until he’s too weak to stand. Sinking onto the mattress by his knees, “I will.”

Laios’ eyes flick from Kabru’s face down to his weepy erection.

He wants Laios in his mouth. Wants the warmth slapping his tongue, burrowing towards the cinch of his throat. He wants to grope the bulge his king forces through his neck and feel your hands buried in his dark hair. The latter need is fulfilled, your fingers combing through dark curls to push him into your husband’s crotch.

“What a pretty mouth, Kabru, you love to run it,” you climb onto the bed beside him, holding Laios steady by the base, “Try something new, hm?”

“New is- ”

“Try it, Kabru. Now,” regardless of the choppy demand, your voice remains dulcet. Pillowy and fluffy. He could melt into your sound.

His tongue lolls to slather the underside of Laios’ cock with hot saliva, enveloping the man in his mouth. Cheeks hollowing and lashes batting wetly up at the king, crimson deepening on Laios’ face. Behind him, the mattress dips and shakes, Laios’ eyes jumping from baby blues to over Kabru’s back, hips jerking against his chin.

Your hand lifts from inky hair, curls slipping between your fingers in vain attempts to tether you against his skull. Now both your palms run up Laios’ chest as you mold against his side. Your thighs spread around one of his arms and robe nowhere to be found, painted lips smear rouge up Laios’ neck and cheek before you claim his lips.

One of Laios’ hands cradles Kabru’s head, not rudely pushing nor wrangling his hair, just an affectionate reminder of whose cock is in his throat. Meanwhile, the hand between your thighs crooks towards your heat, middle finger ringing your clit -- earning a jump and heave from you.

Laios coaxes Kabru off, winded as he requests, “Can you two kiss? Please?”

Kabru gives the king no time to abjure before he’s spearing you with attention, not that you’re more patient; hurriedly cupping his cheeks and legs spreading to welcome him between. Sat up enough to give Laios a proper view, Kabru fondles your ass as you happily cram your lips to his. He wonders if your lip stain wipes off on him as well. He hopes it does.

“So beautiful,” Laios muses stroking his cock, casually flicking his wrist and thumbing the head, as you reach for Kabru’s.

Kabru’s lips sear down your neck, urged to bite. He does not.

“Soft, right?” Laios lays his head against your shoulder, poking obnoxiously into Kabru’s space (not that he minds), “Still sweet with wine.”

You taste better than the fucking wine.

Does Laios?

Your lips curl, drifting away just to whisper against his lips, “Would you like to kiss the king?”

“Can I?”

Before you can reaffirm, Laios snatches Kabru by the chin to kiss him.

Laios is not sweet like wine, he tastes like beer and salt and iron from a raw lip, and yet Kabru cannot drink him down fast enough.

Hands, big and calloused and sweltering, brand Kabru’s hips -- spinning him around to face the door as you unwork the man’s nightshirt. Tossing the flowy cloth aside, you press a final kiss to Kabru’s lips, before laying out beneath him.

Kabru’s eyes hone on the honeydew slick glossing your slit, hands scrambling for perch on your bracketing thighs as Laios’ settle on his ass. Anticipation builds and flows out of his mouth, rich and thick and in the form of a lashing tongue. Broad and cozy, Kabru sweeps up your cunt, thumbs parting you for the purest taste. Audible sighs fan over your pelvis in time with Laios burying his spit-slick fingers into Kabru’s hole.

A groan vibrates through your hips, Kabru’s electric eyes flashing over the quiver in your thighs as you grind onto his nose. Both hands knotting through his hair.

Fingers prod inside you, curling toward your stomach before scissoring apart just to noisily slurp out leaking wetness.

Burly hands rearrange Kabru again, manhandling him until he’s got his back against Laios’ chest with legs thrown out across the bed. Exhilaration surges through Kabru’s whole body, extremities jittering and whines dribbling down his lips. Slowly, he’s lowered onto Laios’ cock with teeny rasps inspiring you to grab him by the shoulders. Again, sweet lips meet his, but he realizes the ploy quickly: torturous pleasure rips through his gut as you push him back to prime for riding.

Laios’ hand finds your chest, tweaking your nipple while snapping his hips up. Pounding into Kabru’s clenching hole in time that you sink down on the poor man.

Over Kabru’s shoulder, you and Laios swap spit with noisy kisses and if he weren’t sweating ecstasy then maybe he’d find the power to be embarrassed over his desperation to join. Regardless of getting his brains ground into mush by your combined, incessant pistoning, Kabru finds himself giddy to be involved further.

You’re purposeful and elegant; excruciating, tantalizing bounces with nails digging into the meat of Kabru’s chest. As if you could easily tear him apart, only dangling in front of him like a carrot-drawn-horse.

Laios is frantic and overwhelming; hips unrelenting and thick muscled arms belting Kabru against him. Skin clapping skin, moist with sweat, and fat rippling from the impacts of Laios’ fucking. Each thrust into Kabru sends him rocketing further inside you; bulging deep, deep in your squelching cunt.

Contrasting in all ways -- your hands pet and scratch while Laios’ anchor and tug, you moan and mewl while Laios groans and growls. When you’re not kissing your husband you impress downy lips upon Kabru’s chest while Laios tears bruises from his neck with full teeth.

Passion swells each suck and stroke and pap, pap, pap until Kabru’s bursting from the inside out. He keens, body tensing.

“Breathe,” Laios huffs into his ear, voice low and crackling, “Breathe, it feels better when you don’t tighten up.”

Kabru heeds, blowing hot air across your bare chest as he cums, and you coo, “Good boy.”

A slush of your combined juices cascades, soaking and matting Kabru’s pubes. Wetting his and Laios’ balls. Three hard rams and Laios is spilling inside Kabru as well. Pants and gulps echoing around the room.

Reclining against the headboard, Laios slowly pulls your exhausted body off Kabru before slipping his cock out of the man. Each of you is fully aware the hygienic option is to wash yourselves, change the sheets, and maybe even comb through messy heads of hair.

None of you do, though.

Laios, grinning bright and alluring as the sun, has an arm nestled around both you and Kabru to keep you flush against his sides. Your head finds a pillow in your husband’s chest, Kabru copying the motion. Swamped exhales pass between yours and Kabru’s blissed out faces, but only measured breaths pull a serene rise and fall from Laios. Drool even leaks from the corner of Kabru’s mouth, he groans in disgust but can’t manage the strength to wipe it away. Neither can you, exhaustion poisoning you from the knees up.

A careful thumb dabs the spittal away, only to grossly end up smearing it across Kabru’s shoulder when Laios replaces his hand on the man’s bare arm.

“How…” Kabru shudders for breath, “Why…” his eyes flutter drowsily, “Not tired…?”

“I didn’t do much,” Laios reasons (whether he genuinely thinks that or is bluffing, nobody can be sure), voice low as he notices you’re beginning to drift asleep, “Wore yourselves out, though.”

“Still…” Kabru huffs defiantly, yawning against the moist valley between Laios’ pecs, “I… more stamina…”

“Ass,” you drowsily pitch in, eyes closed and lashes stark against your cheeks.

“Ass?” Laios looks down at Kabru.

“Ass,” Kabru yawns again, now capable of slurring full sentences together with his breath sufficiently caught, “First time taking it in the ass. Probably took more out of me than I expected…”

“You should’ve said something,” Laios lours, “Even monsters like Orcs that have sex for pleasure stretch their partners more than I did. It helps prevent tearing. I wish I could’ve seen more mating rituals before getting cursed.”

“You could read more…”

Kabru’s too tired to negate your yawn of a suggestion. He doesn’t need to before Laios mutters again, seconds away from passing out altogether,

“I’ve read about them a lot, I just wanted to see it for myself.”

Year 515. Some days later.

Laios suddenly turns in his throne, angling his body towards Kabru, “You think I can make polyamorous marriage legal?”

“Why?” Kabru’s sure he knows exactly where the king’s head is, he just wants to hear the man say it.

Sticking out his thumb, index, and middle finger, Laios scrunches the digits towards his palm twice, “Aren’t we all getting married?”

“You’ll have to ask your real spouse about that first.”

“I did.”

“Huh?!” that makes Kabru’s heart explode, blood and meat blowing through his orifices. Teasing Laios is easy now that he more clearly understands the man’s motives, but you?

You’re intimidating even after he’s been inside you, he doesn’t know how Laios can so casually ask you something like that (he does though, it’s due to Laios’ many loose screws).

“I already asked about us marrying you.”

“And…?”

“They thought it was a good idea!” Laios shakes off, as if Kabru should have just known you would go along with your husband’s insanity, “So, can I legalize it?”

“Probably,” Kabru settles a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart (or what remains, anyway), “I’ll look into it.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

~~~

kabru miserablism POV my beloved

beast laios and fae reader and treasure kabru imagery makes me so hard

[ericscroptop]

Smokey And Sweet

✧ pairing: neighbor! lee jeno x fem! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of food and eating, mentions of death (no actual people die/have died), smoking from jeno & reader (cigarette), cursing, teasing, car sex, semi-public sex (oops), missionary, big d!ck jeno, fingering, protected sex, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praising, pet names, some drool & spit, kissing, shy reader when it comes to godly men like lee jeno, slightly bad-boy jeno but more so his aura, reader & jeno are in their early 20s

✦ word count: 11.6k words (i literally couldn’t stop)

✧ synopsis: new boy next door takes an interest in you and decides to take you as a warm welcome into town.

ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

Winter had said its goodbye weeks ago, and now, it has fully transitioned into Spring.

With Spring having sprung, the environment has come back to life and everything is blooming once again.

You can now enjoy hearing the sweet songs from the birds chirping proudly every day. You can savor the sunshine and natural light for much longer now due to the time being pushed forward an hour. And, the weather isn’t bitterly cold anymore so you could actually go outside having your skin exposed without your body tingling, stinging, and shivering.

Though, there were still downsides to Spring that you loathed— such as torrential downpours, freshly awoken wasps and bumblebees, and random sneezing fits from pollen. But on days like today where the air felt so fresh outside and you frankly had nothing better else to do, the outdoors called to you.

You desired to spend your leisure time this evening outside. Maybe you’d even decide to buy a treat from the ice cream truck that drove past your neighborhood almost daily now that the weather was warmer. You relish in just the thought of enjoying your first ice cream this season from the cute truck. You’d definitely buy one.

With the weather just right, you chose to wear a simple oversized t-shirt and your pair of frilly-ruffled, black and white polka dot shorts, along with your go-to comfortable footwear. Perfect for lounging out in the breezy and warm weather.

Deciding to sit on the tailgate of your dad’s pickup truck while you wait, you scroll mindlessly through your phone with your wallet by your side.

Although your face was trained on your phone instead of enjoying the outdoors peacefully, at least you were outside instead of cooped up in indoors.

In the midst of the sounds of nature, from wind blowing the trees to birds singing, you hear the sound of your neighbors’s door swing open. Though, you refrain yourself from allowing your eyes to follow the sound, trying to ignore their presence even though curiosity fills you.

This past week, a new family had moved into the house next to yours. It had been vacant and up for sale for awhile, as the previous owners decided to relocate elsewhere.

You’ve seen the movers and had your fair share of brief glimpses towards the house, but you tried your best to ignore and avoid them.

Although your whole life your neighbors have been unproblematic and greet your parents every-so-often, you weren’t someone who enjoyed small talk and acted ‘neighborly.’ You lived in your own bubble, and were too shy in even sparing a greeting to your neighbors.

That may seem a bit bitchy, but you just felt awkward and never really knew what to say. It felt easier just minding your own business.

You probably should work on your social skills. Maybe then you’d actually have something to do instead of sitting alone outside like a loser waiting for some ice cream— at your grown age.

With your attention directed towards your phone, you don’t notice that it is a boy that comes out of the door.

Said boy walks out of his house and lets out a deep sigh with both hands on his hips as he stands on his porch.

Honestly, Jeno didn’t really know how to feel about the move. His parents had decided to move out of the big city he’s known and loved his entire life, and ditch it for this unknown-small town he has to call home now.

While he’s in his early twenties and fully capable of living on his own as an adult, he just graduated college and rent was fucking expensive these days. For the time being, it was easier to move and live with his parents until he found a job and could start saving for his own place.

There was nothing wrong with adults living with their parents, anyways. There were upsides and downsides to it— as there were with practically anything. But it’s what will work for now.

It just sucks that he had to leave everything he’s ever known behind and start over. But life’s all about growing and new adventures— at least, that’s what the older adults say. He just has to learn to adapt to his new environment and embrace change.

He’s been unpacking boxes and organizing his new room all day. It was now around 6pm, and he’d been in the house all day doing labor and cleaning. After being stuck indoors all day, he figured it was time for a break to go for a short drive or maybe get food someplace.

As he stepped out his front door and stood on the porch, he looked towards his left and noticed your figure.

A girl, he thought. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to even notice any of his neighbors or surroundings fully, as he was too immersed in helping his parents settle into their new home and couldn’t keep his attention on anything outside of moving in.

From his porch he could see your figure swaying your head faintly from side to side, legs swinging back and forth in the air over the cracked concrete of your driveway. You were in your own world, phone in hand and sat by your lonesome self.

How cute, he thinks. He probably looks like a freak just staring at your form, but he glances around the street fleetingly and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is out right now. You don’t seem to notice his presence watching you— or at least, maybe you’re pretending you don’t.

You peak his interest suddenly. He wonders what you’re like and from this distance, he can see that you’re definitely an adult like him. Maybe you’re around his age. He could use a friend or at least, know someone in this foreign town.

He gives himself an internal pep-talk of confidence to walk up to you. You’d start seeing each other almost daily now that you’re neighbors, and he doesn’t think he can stay unacquainted with you. So he strides his way towards your house to introduce himself like a gentleman.

While engrossed in whatever nonsense you’re watching on your phone, you begin to detect movement from your peripheral, as well as hear shoes scraping against the concrete.

Your eyes slightly widen at that, sensing a complete stranger coming towards your direction. It wasn’t everyday someone decided to approach you suddenly. Your body stilled and you found strength to raise your head, locking eyes with what seems to be a handsome man.

He brings a hand up and waves, continuing walking up to you until he’s like only 6 feet away.

“Hey— sorry to bother you, but I came to introduce myself. I’m Jeno. I just moved in next door.” he shoots you a smile.

“Oh— hey! Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you awkwardly get up to stand on your feet and extend an arm out.

“I’m Y/n. Welcome to the neighborhood!” you put on your best smile as he takes your hand to shake it firmly, practically blacking out mentally as you cannot believe this is a real scene playing out.

You’re left utterly dumbfounded once you took a good gander at this guy.

There was a contrast to him. His skin was pretty much bright and his beauty could light up darkness and draw irresistible attention to him, but he was also kind of shadowy in a way. Although he greeted you with a smile that reached his eyes, he seemed to have this intimidating presence to him.

Maybe you’re just saying that because anyone who’s attractive to you intimidates the fuck out of you. But he seems to ooze natural confidence and appeal. His features were sharp, and he just had this indescribable aura to him that made you weak. You couldn’t pin point what it was.

It didn’t help that he was cool enough to rock an undercut, seeing it peeking through slightly from his right side of face. Not to mention, you couldn’t help but shift your eyes down for a second to look at his almost-exposed chest, first few buttons of his dark flannel left undone.

His dark eyes, dark hair, and dark shirt contrast with his light blue baggy jeans and kind smile, making your skin heat up from his presence, even in the midst of a breeze passing through.

But anyways— your new neighbor is a hot man that decided to come over and greet you. If that’s not a moment in history, then you don’t know what is.

The smile on his face doesn’t falter one bit as you greet him back, feeling your smaller, slightly wobbly hand shaking his own, and sees the slight tint of pink coloring your cheeks. Was it from the weather or his abrupt approach? He’s not sure. And neither are you.

“Thanks. I— uh, actually noticed you were sitting out here alone. Figured I’d come introduce myself. Since I’m new to this town, I don’t know anyone.” he admits.

Your lips parted as you attentively listened to his every word, arms crossed. You let out a chuckle as he finishes, “To be honest with you, i’m not really familiar with anyone else in this neighborhood— and i’ve lived on this street my whole life.” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you look around at nothing in particular sheepishly.

Your words and quiet laugh only makes his smile bigger. “Yeah? Maybe I could be your first neighbor-friend.” Jeno smirks at you, his hands shifting around in the pockets of his jeans.

The dopamine releasing from your brain causes you to feel giddy and it feels like butterflies are fluttering inside your stomach from excitement and coyness. You’re gushing internally at the fact that God himself has sent you a cute neighbor— one who had the urge to come over and is showing interest in you.

You only know his name and your delusional-self is already mentally planning your future with him.

“I could definitely use a friend.” your smile is genuine as you tell him, showing courtesy to your new neighbor.

You see the smile reach to his eyes again, meeting your gaze before he looks down at his own feet while grinning, making you look away shyly.

God, you felt like a teenager again.

“Do you care if I sit out here with you? I don’t really have anything better to do.” Jeno speaks. He really wants to get to know you and waste no time. You seem very sweet, and like he said, he actually doesn’t have anything better to do. (He still had some unpacking left to do unfortunately, but he needed a damn break.)

You can feel your heart rate increase and a flash of heat hits you at his words, feeling flustered that your peaceful evening has unexpectedly taken a turn.

“Of course! I could use someone to keep me company.” you say, still feeling flushed.

You pushed your rear back onto the truck’s tailgate and Jeno follows suit. He takes a seat next to you, making you hold back a giggle at how the truck lowered for a moment due to the extra weight now added.

“So… you were just out here chilling alone?” he queries with both arms outstretched behind him, leaning back a bit and making himself comfortable.

“I actually came out ‘cause I wanted some ice cream. Now that it’s warmer out again, a truck usually passes by everyday.” you begin to swing your legs like you were earlier as you continued. “I’m grown as hell waiting for the ice cream man by myself. Can you believe that?” you laugh.

Jeno finds your demeanor endearing. How you’re just out here innocently waiting for some ice cream. And the way that you seem like a ball of sunshine. You’re unintentionally stirring his emotions with sudden fondness and attraction towards you.

“Hey, that’s cute. And, now you have company to wait alongside you.” he states, his eyes stuck on you as he spoke.

Your cheeks must’ve been permanently stained pink since he’s made himself known. His natural charm and solely being in the presence of an attractive male has your palms sweaty and senses tingling.

“So why’d you move here?” you attempt to make conversation, trying to push pass the fact that he basically called you cute and is sitting directly next to you.

He inhales some air and huffs it out deeply before speaking. “Parents wanted to settle in a smaller town now that they’re getting older. We lived in the city my whole life, but my parents wanted a change. Plus, my dad runs an auto repair shop, and he had the grand idea of extending his business here, so… yeah.”

“I just graduated college a while ago, too. You’d think that I would have my own place and not be packed up alongside my parents, but i’m trying to figure out what I wanna do. Rent’s too expensive in the city, anyways. I have friends I could’ve moved in with to split rent, but since we all graduated, we all are doing our own things and they have their partners and stuff.” he continued.

“S’ry for rambling. I’m just dumping all this shit on you.” Jeno shakes his head, scoffing at his own rant. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s looking for pity and seem lame.

“Nooo— it’s okay. I asked you a question and you answered it. Sounds like there’s so much change in your life recently. It would only be natural to feel sour or uncertain about your current life. I know it’s probably not ideal, but I hope you adjust well here.” you offer him an empathetic smile, trying to assure him that his feelings are valid.

Jeno looks at you, intrigued and taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with something that suddenly made his heart stir.

He isn’t one to get sappy or ever seeks for people to comfort him. He wasn’t even asking for sympathy. You were just kind enough to offer him some touching and uplifting words.

The ends of his lips curl at your tenderness. “Wow… do you always say such nice things to people you barely know?” he decides to tease you.

Your face grows hot, laughing nervously as you speak, “What? I’m just telling you what I think.” you pause for a couple seconds before continuing, “Moving can be mentally and physically taxing. Change is never easy. Especially as a young adult, we’re still trying to figure everything out. So I feel for you.”

“There you go again.” Jeno can’t help but smirk, eyes falling to his own lap, hands clasped together.

“You majored in psychology or something? Your words are naturally comforting.” he chuckles.

You scoff at that. “I’m actually in community college— and undecided.”

He hums at your response, finally learning something about you.

“Well, i’m sure you’d be good in any career field. You sound very mature.”

You pursed your lips to the side, feeling flustered at all these small compliments he’s throwing your way. He’s probably just being nice, but he’s probably thinking the same about yourself towards him. Though, you were a very compassionate person. Your words were earnest.

And his own words carried much weight to your brain, especially because it was coming from a man. A very attractive one, at that.

“I dunno, I was just being real.” you brushed his comment off.

“Nah, you’re definitely a smart girl. Come on now.” Jeno tilts his head at you, staring at you attentively.

He’s wondering what goes on in that pretty little head of yours. He has the urge to figure you out. Jeno isn’t stupid and realizes the effect he has on girls merely from his looks. Call him cocky or whatever, but it’s not a secret that girls easily gravitate towards him.

Though, you’re currently bringing him a different vibe. He’s already gathered that you’re sweeter than a Pop-Tart. And a bit bashful.

Girls are usually so quick to be flirty towards him. Not that he doesn’t like that— he actually loves when girls are bold and quick to get things swinging. But you’re offering him something new, even within the couple of minutes you’ve known each other. He’s definitely interested in you.

You can sense his pair of eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your vision lies straight ahead, trying to remain composed after hearing him compliment you as you stare at the house across from yours. How is this man still talking to your ass? You wondered.

You can’t even come up with a response before your ears pick up on that familiar tune of the ice cream truck, sounding closer and closer every second.

“It’s coming,” you lift yourself off the tailgate, wallet in hand as you approach the end of your driveway towards the road.

Jeno follows your lead and trails behind you, joining you as the truck comes to a halt in seeing you both.

He watches as you greet the driver and look over the menu momentarily, eventually deciding on a regular-sized Italian ice— flavor of your choice.

You then turn to look at Jeno, smile taking over your features charmingly.

“Do you want anything?” you ask him.

Jeno secretly does have a big sweet tooth, so he refuses to pass up on a treat of his own. “Yeah, i’ll have the same as her.” he announces and smiles at the worker.

You fiddle with your wallet, scrambling to fish out a couple dollars while your treats are being prepared. Though, it seems like you’re beat to covering for the both of you, eyes looking up to the sight of Jeno handing the worker some cash.

“I got it.” he says like nothing to you, happily paying the man in the truck.

You’re left confounded, not expecting him to even have his wallet on him.

Your mouth is slightly parted at his sudden act, ponderously putting your money back in your wallet. You can’t even protest as the transaction was already made.

Jeno hands you your treat with a spoon and grabs his own, both of you thanking the driver and walking back to your dad’s tailgate as the ice cream truck drives away, music now growing distant.

“I was gonna pay for us, y’know?” you say as you sit back down, Jeno doing the same.

“It was only a couple bucks. Plus, i’d never let a girl pay.”

You look down at your Italian ice in hand, poking at it with your spoon in other hand.

“Yeah, but we just met. You’re the new neighbor, shouldn’t I be the one treating you?”

“Your company is more than enough.” he simply replies before bringing his spoon to his mouth, head turned in your direction.

His words make your heart begin to thud erratically in your chest, heat rising all-throughout your body, and you’re left tongue-tied.

You’re still twiddling with your semi-frozen treat, mind and body fuzzy. You’re focused on his comment, the fact that he paid, and the innocent moment of you two enjoying ice cream next to each other here— outside your house.

You feel like you’re squirming on the inside, not knowing what to do with Jeno’s kind presence. He’s your neighbor now. How are you supposed to live now that you have an incredibly beautiful and charming man living next door to you?

“You like playing with your food before you eat?”

“Huh? Oh— my bad.” Jeno rips you away from your ruffled thoughts about him, now feeling embarrassed at how your head is already spinning and going dumb from someone you just met.

A nervous chuckle leaves your throat, finally digging for your first bite while Jeno was on his nth spoonful. You pop the spoon filled with ice cream into your mouth, tastebuds absorbing the deliciously creamy and smooth consistency.

“How is it?” he asks, eyeing you as you enjoy your first taste.

“It’s so sweet. Really good.”

“Definitely.” Jeno says, nodding his head in agreement. Though, he’s not sure if he’s referring to the ice cream or you.

You guys finished up your treats and talked about various topics, slowly getting to know each other better. You even started to loosen up a bit more, feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable the more you two conversed.

“You know, I’m a real huge car guy.”

“Really? I’m honestly not surprised.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it seems like every guy these days is a ‘car guy.’” you sneered.

He scoffs after listening to you. “Well, since my dad’s a mechanic, he’s taught me almost everything I need to know about cars. It’s practically in my veins.”

“Trust me, I am practically infatuated with cars. I used to dream of becoming a F1 driver.” he clicks his tongue.

“Woah, what?! So with cars, do you like the mechanics of it all, or do you really just like showing off how fast you can go?” you cock your head at him, asking curiously with a hint of tease in saying the latter.

“Both. I like working hands-on with cars and having the knowledge to perform car maintenance. It also feels personal cause’ since my dad’s a mechanic, he passed down his love for cars to me.”

“I also love the control I can have while driving. It can be exhilarating when you’re going hella fast. Especially when your car’s all nicely polished and sleek— it’s the best.”

“Damn. You really are passionate, huh? That’s actually really dope.”

“I am.” he smirks, amused that you’re interested in hearing about his interests. Like, you actually are having a conversation with him and are seriously listening to him.

Meanwhile, it’s such a breath of fresh air for you to listen to him speak about his passions and have personality to him. He wasn’t dry or giving you half-assed anything— and he was respectful, making you swoon and happy to have met someone like him.

The sun was beginning to set as you two got loss in conversation, the sky painted in a warm hue.

“Let me go throw these away.” you gather your now-empty foam cups and plastic spoons, grabbing them and getting up to throw them in your trash bin.

“Thanks.” Jeno gets up shortly after you do, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I should be the one thanking you— for the ice cream.” you now stand in front of him, arms crossed behind your back with a hand resting over your wrist.

“It was only a couple of bucks, no biggie like I said.” he assures you.

You smile, the apples of your cheeks more prominent as you can’t hold back in how wide it becomes due to his kindness. You stand meekly, figuring that this is the part where you bid one another goodbye and go inside your separate homes.

Although he literally lives next to you and you’d be seeing him frequently, you don’t want your time together to end just yet. He’s pulling you in like a magnet. You’ve felt lonely lately, and Jeno’s company was the best unexpected gift you could ever ask for.

And it seems like he’s thinking the same.

“Hey— I was thinking now would be a perfect time to drive around for a bit. I’ve been stuck at home all day and could go out for a bit. Would you like to come with?”

Your brows lift slightly, caught off guard by his invite. You didn’t expect to spend your evening with a man outside your house, and now, said man is asking you out for a drive.

“Only if you want to, of course. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or—“

“No!— let’s do it.” you interrupt him, rather eagerly. You stare at him with a twinkle inside your eyes, mirroring Jeno’s own, eyes dreamy as he looks at your figure.

You might be some trouble for him, and you’re definitely feeling the same about him. The magnetism between you two is strong. Each of you look at one another in admiration and thoughts about anything else are practically nonexistent. It was purely curious attraction. Like a moth to a flame.

You’re honestly not sure if it’s the smartest idea to be getting in a vehicle with a guy you haven’t even known for 24 hours. You know your parents would literally be up your ass if they knew, and the anxious side of you is lowkey freaking out internally, already playing out multiple scenarios.

But you oddly trust Jeno. He seems to find solace in your presence. You each agreed that you were friends now. You hardly got out of the house anyways— you definitely needed this. And you’re an adult, so who cares?

“Alirghty then, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, i’m good to go.”

With that, Jeno leads the way into his new property. His left hand digs into his left pocket and pulls out a pair of keys, walking to the driver’s side of what seems to be his car.

The sight of his car definitely confirms that he’s a serious car guy. You’re not too familiar yourself on the technical terms or remember model names, but his car is black, windows were tinted, and it’s glossy. It looked almost brand new, smooth and sexy— dare you say. It suits him well.

He unlocks his car and lets you know you’re able to get in, and so you open the passenger door and seat yourself inside.

A subtle musky fragrance fills your nostrils immediately as you settle in. The interior of his car smells clean and fresh, mellow undertones within the scent. Not strong, but pleasant and fitting.

Jeno also settles in his vehicle, starting up the engine as you each put on your seatbelts.

“Don’t worry. I know I said I like going fast, but I follow the law. It’ll be a nice drive.” Jeno suddenly says, looking over his shoulder as his right hand takes hold of the gear shift. He puts the car in reverse, using his left hand to steer the wheel.

You sit idly as he cranes his neck slightly to look behind, making sure the street is clear as he makes exit from his driveway. He smoothly reverses, and begins to drive down the street.

Your hands are folded in your lap, and you begin to play with them out of suspense from what is to come during this drive with Jeno.

You’re fortunate that your parents are out of town right now, so they don’t really have to question your whereabouts.

Though, you’re thinking about how you’re alone in the car with a guy you just met. It had been so long since you hung out with a male like this. You couldn’t help but already feel some type of way towards Jeno. Your senses heightened within his presence. Maybe it’s because you still don’t really know too much about him, but you also think it’s because his attractiveness daunts you.

Perhaps you’re already developing a crush.

“Got anywhere in particular you wanna go? I don’t really mind; I’ll let you take the reins.” he halts his car at a stop sign, then turns to smile at you.

“Honestly, there’s really not much to do in this town. People usually go goof around the grocery stores for entertainment. That’s how dry it is here.” you tittered.

“Though, there’s a school a few blocks away from our street that I walk to occasionally when I want to clear my mind, and I usually just roam leisurely around there. Since it’s practically right next to a nice neighborhood, lots of people go on walks or bike rides around, and kids play after school hours.” you internally facepalm yourself once you finish talking. He probably is gonna think you’re so lame and that you clearly don’t go out much. A school? Really?

“We can go there. Sounds chill to me, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah! I’m good with that.” you’re relieved to see that he seems on board with your idea. He seemed to be pretty laidback and easygoing, leaving you feeling safe.

You direct him to the location, and he notices that there’s no music currently playing.

“Wanna connect your phone to play some music?”

“Oh no, that’s okay. You can play whatever.” you kindly smile.

“I listen to the same songs practically everyday. It’s getting old. How about you put on something, I could use something new.”

You feel a bit shy in sharing your music taste, but you see that he won’t take no for an answer. You give in and he helps you in connecting to the Bluetooth. A R&B playlist is what you settle for, as most of the songs in your curated playlist were comforting, catchy, and relaxing.

As the music’s going, you feel flushed and can’t reject the smile that creeps on your face as a favorite song of yours comes on. You notice from your peripheral Jeno nodding his head to the beat of the track, making you fix your attention to simply staring out the window to avoid him seeing how blushed and smiley you are.

After just a few minutes, he pulls into the school grounds, parking in the lot and you two unbuckle your seatbelts. There seems to be hardly anyone here. There’s maybe one or two cars parked, but nobody’s inside. There also aren’t any children on the playground or playing basketball like there normally would be. It seems a bit ghostly out.

With you two now sitting in the car in the practically-empty lot, you begin to wonder maybe this really was a dumb idea of yours.

I mean, what are you guys actually going to do?

With you two in this setting, wouldn’t people expect you two to be doing something shady or sketchy? Especially as the sky’s only growing somber by the minute.

“Do you care if I smoke a cig?” Jeno’s question interrupts your overthinking, making you turn, facing him.

“Go ahead.” you give him the green light to do so. It was his car after all.

Internally, you grimaced at now knowing the fact that he’s a smoker. You weren’t a fan of tobacco or nicotine, but if someone wanted to smoke, who were you to stop them?

Jeno rolls the window down halfway and reaches his hand into his door pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the stick in between his mouth, allowing his lips to hold it as he brings the lighter to the end.

He flicks the lighter and the click hits your ears. Your eyes stay hooked on him once you hear it.

Jeno took a few quick breaths to ignite it, and it lit with ease. He sucked and held the smoke in his mouth for a moment, then removed the cigarette from his lips, letting the hot chemicals cool down before releasing a steady stream of smoke into the air towards his lowered window.

He immediately feels the buzz of pleasure from the nicotine rush to his brain. The warm air embraces his lungs like a comforting hug, allowing him to relax after a long day of unpacking.

Meanwhile, you weren’t in favor of cigarettes. You don’t understand the appeal in smoking something that in the end, is probably going to lead you closer to death by shortening your lifespan and bring trouble to your body. The aroma it left was harsh and acrid, and even eye-watering.

Though, even with how strongly you felt about smoking cigarettes, why was Jeno making it seem attractive?

Your attention is captivated on the erotic bittersweetness of the sight next to you. He made it seem so effortless, like it was second nature to him.

He seemed so carefree and rebellious in this moment. He obviously doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. The habit was hazardous, but the youthful, handsome man with strong features smoking in a dark car was glamorous in your perspective.

Jeno has to refrain from grinning as he notices your wonderment. He takes another drag before shooting you a question.

“Have you ever smoked before?”

“Not a cigarette, no.”

He suddenly moves his right hand with cigarette in hold in between you two, towards an empty tray you just now were made aware of. He taps the ash off the cigarette onto the ashtray, and to your surprise, gestures it towards you.

“Wanna try?” his voice husky.

Your mouth falls barely agape, caught off guard by his question.

You have to admit, even though you strayed away from cigarettes due to the long run danger they pose, you can’t help the burning curiosity fueling inside in trying it at least once.

Jeno made it look oddly satisfying, even in the midst of the now tarnished air and molten stench.

One puff wouldn’t kill you.

“Sure.” you reply, eyelids blinking at the stick in between his fingers.

Amusement is written all over Jeno’s face. He had a hunch before you even said anything that you’ve never smoked a cigarette before. You just seemed too sweet for that.

He found it mirthful that you want to try for yourself, and with him. There was something exciting in the fact that he’s about to watch you take your first ever drag. Knowing it was your first, there was a high chance you were going to be appalled by it. But it was going to be fun to watch, almost like he was corrupting your sweetness.

He brings the cigarette towards you and you carefully take it pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

The smoke envelops your nostrils, and you feel clammy all of a sudden with the cigarette in your hold and Jeno focused on you.

You were already overthinking the way you probably looked to him right now, so obviously amateur. And it was going to be humbling when you’re left coughing or can’t do it correctly.

Jeno can practically hear your worrisome thoughts turning, and is quick to kick them to the curb. “You don’t have to do it just because I am.”

“I actually want to try at least once in my life— for the plot, y’know?” you chuckled.

“Okay then. Just know I won’t tease you. Nobody’s first smoke is perfect.” he simply smiles, immediately bringing you support.

You don’t waste anymore time for the cigarette’s sake and wrap your lips around it, hollowing your cheeks as you take a shallow drag.

Your throat instantly feels irritated and on fire, feeling tight with the smoke you’ve just inhaled. All the toxic chemicals blaze your throat and lungs, leaving a bad taste to your mouth and it feels almost-suffocating.

A couple coughs rip from your throat, and you attempt to cover your mouth with your free hand and turn your form slightly towards the right, trying to shield yourself away Jeno from your embarrassing coughing fit.

You each let out a different curse word due to your actions, making the both of you laugh— of which, lowkey makes your throat feel even worse. Jeno quickly reaches over and removes the cigarette from your hold, dumping the ash on the tray and he keeps it between his fingers as he rummages around his car for a possible drink he may have lying around.

Luckily, he finds an unopened water bottle in his backseat. It unfortunately is room temperature and he doesn’t know how long it’s been in his car, but he doesn’t hesitate in opening it and offering it to you, which you gladly take.

“God! I fucking hated that.” you huff out after taking a few sips, now feeling calm. The ashy taste still was lingering in your mouth, making you slightly frown. The scent of the smog was definitely going to cling to your clothes— thankfully, your parents weren’t going to be home tonight to be greeted by it.

“Everyone’s first cigarette is terrible.” he chuckles before taking another drag, looking graceful and natural in doing so.

You can’t help the ping you feel in your heart from how you two now practically shared an indirect kiss, him choosing to continue smoking the cigarette instead of putting it out. You’re starting to feel hazy.

“I don’t think i’ll be smoking that ever again.” you scoff, taking another sip of water before reaching for and screwing the cap back on, placing it on one of his cup holders.

“That’s good, it doesn’t really suit you.” he says before enveloping his lips around the stick again.

Your eyes squint barely as you feel slightly offended from his comment. After blowing out the smoke, he notices your expression, and adds on to his words.

“You’re too sweet for that.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“You’re a pretty girl with frilly polka dot shorts who waits outside for ice cream and has a sweet nature. You just seem like you don’t do bad stuff like that.”

Warmth climbs from your neck up to your cheeks, not being able to maintain eye contact once ‘pretty girl’ rang in your ears. Pretty girl? Fuck, why would he say that.

“Duality exists. People can have multiple sides to them.” you voiced, trying to dismiss his comment from before off your mind.

Jeno nods his head in agreement, “Can’t argue with that.”

“Smoking isn’t good for you, though. You should stay away from it.” he utters, about to take another hit from his cigarette.

An incredulous expression takes over your face. “Well look who’s talking.” you teased, shaking your head slightly.

He pauses at your words, not being able to help the breathy laugh that escapes his throat.

“Indulging in cigarettes is like a hobby to me. It’s too late for me. I’m locked in for life.” he twirls the cigarette around his fingers, then brings it to his lips once again.

“So then should I stay away from you?” you mindlessly say, making you clutch the bottom frills of your shorts for comfort as you await for his response.

Jeno blows out smoke towards the window and turns to you, your fingers playing with the fabric of your shorts. He can’t help how cute you look in his passenger seat. You look so delicate, even in the dark interior of his car, even in the thick of the secondhand smoke air.

He’s torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to tamper with you. He could get a cavity just by looking at you. You were delightful and so new and sweet to him. You can be timid but you’ve been so open to embracing your new neighbor. You were a ball of sunshine, and he was the kind of guy parents hated just based off his looks alone.

Like you had said, there can be multiple sides to everyone. Just because someone seems to appear one way on the outside, or you base their personality off one side they’ve shown you, doesn’t define their entire persona.

Jeno really wants you two to get close together. Call him desperate, but he can already feel growing chemistry between you two. You barely met, but Jeno can’t help how he’s already so drawn to you.

And he intends to get to know every part of you.

Your fingers continue to fidget with your shorts, thighs pressed together, suddenly feeling small and hyper aware of your own existence within his presence.

“I kinda don’t want you too.”

“I already like you too much, think I could use someone like you in my life.”

Your nervous system is a whirlwind currently, the opposite of calm. Blood rushes to your head in hearing his response, ears becoming warm. A tight-lipped grin stretches across your face while averting your eyes from Jeno.

You can’t help the nervous giggle that comes out of you, unable to contain your emotions. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and it’s not just due to the smoke floating around.

Fuck. You don’t even know what to say to that.

He grins at your figure, his words clearly stirring something inside you. You avoid his gaze, pupils suddenly finding your lap more interesting and easier to look at than to meet his own eyes as you feel bashful.

Your fingers run along the goosebumps that now decorate the bit of exposed skin from your thighs, coy and still unable to think of a response. He makes you feel so silly and dumb, falling for his charisma.

Jeno’s eyes fall into your lap, following your small movements. You were visibly fidgety. He couldn’t help in wanting to reach over and place a hand protectively over your thigh. He then wonders what it would be like to hold your hand, or to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, or to kiss your lips.

He wants to act on instinct. The attraction and desire he has for you is too much for him to bear with you next to him in his car— in an empty parking lot.

He abruptly rolls up his window and reaches for the water bottle you drank out of from the cup holder, opening it and using a tiny bit of water to carefully add it to the ashtray, to stub his cigarette out properly.

You finally look up towards him because of his movements, watching and locking eyes once he’s finished.

“Y/n…” Jeno begins, head cocked slightly to the side, swallowing before continuing. “Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” he practically whispers.

Your heartbeat feels like it pauses and sinks for a moment when you process his words.

Who would’ve guessed you’d be put in this position today?

Jeno’s eyes carry passion and intensity, awaiting for your permission or any answer. He’s craving for your attention, and he can’t deny the carnal desire within him to make each other feel good right now.

“I’d really love to kiss you.” he mumbles, eyes falling to your lips, head still tipped slightly, like a puppy concentrated on you.

The outside world and any miscellaneous thoughts are drowned out by the intention behind his eyes. The tense air and his admirable stare makes you feel a sense of vulnerability. Your own lips are trembling and heart flutters.

You’re lost from his eagerness and interest in you, caught off guard that he felt some attraction towards you while you’ve been trying to ignore how handsome this man was.

It’s been long since you’ve had any ounce of intimacy with another person. Loneliness has consumed you lately. With Jeno showing up in your life out of the blue, confessing that he wants to kiss you even from the little time you’ve known each other, it makes you feel validated and enchanted.

You peer down at the ashtray and center console, being a barrier between the two of you.

It would be slightly discomforting to kiss him over the compartment. But you really did want to kiss him.

Given the fact that you were parked in a parking lot during the late evening, you wondered in the back of your mind secretly of the possibility of him wanting to fuck you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be opposed to that idea in the slightest. A hot guy like Jeno wanting you was generating intense euphoria in your brain.

You were definitely nervous and timorous but fuck, you wanted him to feed your desires and take you heatedly.

“Would the backseat be more comfortable?” you finally manage to speak, viewing him with doe eyes. You knew what you were implying— a bold move for you but you now know that he wants it, too.

Patience never really was your thing.

Jeno’s lips curl upwards, sending you a knowing-look in response to your comment. He gestures with his head to the backseat, “You wanna?”

You merely swallow and nod your head, eventually letting out a faint ‘yes.’

Excitement charges him up in how fast things turned. He opens his own door first, with you following and opening yours a second after, making your way to the backseat on your respective sides.

Frisson is present within the pit of your stomach as you move to the back. Your body hairs are raised due to the tingling sensation rippling all throughout your skin.

You were excited but apprehensive. You were suddenly taking a leap into a new adventure, which was you about to get fucked by your new neighbor in the backseat— in a school parking lot. It was definitely indecent, but lust persisted.

Your pupils flickered around nervously as you each sat in the back, growing sweaty with every second that passes, wondering how this was going to play out.

Jeno takes note of your body language and immediately speaks up. “Are you okay with this? We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable.”

“I’m okay, just a bit awkward.” you sigh out with a slight laugh.

He smiles and looks down at the decent amount of empty space in between you two.

“C’mere.” he says, signaling towards his lap.

You take a breath as you slip out of your shoes and move closer to him. Jeno stretches his arms out, pulling your weight to seat you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your body stills, in disbelief that you’ve found yourself in this foreign position.

Although patience wasn’t your thing, this situation was unfamiliar to you. About to get fucked by someone you barely met was crazy for you. You craved him, but you were also scared something was going to go wrong, whether it was from you or him.

Jeno’s left hand rests on the small of your back, drawing circles with his thumb over the fabric of your t-shirt. His other hand slowly reaches towards the apple of your cheek, rubbing it carefully with the pad of his thumb.

Your tummy flutters wildly from his small touches and the desire emanating from his eyes as he scans you.

“Relax for me, pretty.”

“Can you touch me, hm?”

You don’t verbally respond. You pupils go back and forth between his face and neck as you hook your arms around the thick skin. Your lips parted in being careful with your movements, still in disbelief of this current moment. He called you pretty again.

He smiles at the feeling of your arms around him, and lowers his thumb down your face until it reached your lips, playing with your bottom lip, eyes hooked to something so inviting.

Your own eyes seek his lips, watching the tip of his tongue slip out to give his own a lick, making you force to resist in shifting in his lap out of anticipation or letting out a whimper.

He’s the one to rip the tension by seizing a kiss from you. He gently pulls your face in, and as his lips meet yours, your only focus was on the heat that ignited within you.

The kiss was warm and smokey. It was intense with the way his lips moved jointly with yours.

While you didn’t care for nicotine, the taste of Jeno’s lips was a drug you could see yourself becoming addicted to.

As more seconds pass, the kissing becomes increasingly passionate. You’re practically melting, and it intensifies even more with his scintillating touches.

He protectively keeps a hand around your back, keeping you in place and subtly pushing you in closer towards him. HIs other hand holds your jaw, keeping your face slightly angled and steady.

You can’t help but rub down your clothed crotch against his own, surprising you when your movement draws a deep moan from Jeno, making you quietly gasp.

“Fuck.” he breathes out before he meshes his moist tongue into your hot mouth, making you produce a moan in feeling the wet muscle explore your sensitive erogenous zone.

Your eyes are clenched shut and fingers suddenly find themselves messily fiddling through Jeno’s locks, mind and body lost in the rush of how you’re locked by his lips.

There’s a growing hardness felt through the lightweight material of your shorts. It’s a signal that he wants more, each of your endorphins going nuts by merely making out.

He pulls away from your swollen lips, breathless, hushed gasps filling one another’s ears. Jeno then maneuvers a hand to cradle the back of your head, and brings his face towards your left ear, simultaneously beginning to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Let me take care of you.” his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

His hands redirect to either side of your waist, feeling you up as he brings his face back and scans your face, awaiting for a verbal response.

“Please.” you whisper, warmth spreading across your skin.

“Please what?” he teases.

“Please undress me. Touch me— my body and pussy. Want you to.” you slip out, swallowing your pride. It was a bit embarrassing to say such things aloud in front of your new neighbor, but fuck it. He wanted you equally as bad.

Fully blushed and flushed out, your eyes fall down to stare blankly at his chest. Jeno is filled with amusement though, and hums in satisfaction at your words.

He smoothly reaches for your jaw and tilts it up so that you’re looking at him properly, bringing a buzz to your pussy from his dominance.

“You’re gonna be so good to me, sweet girl.” he says, caressing your face like you’re made of glass.

He brings you in for a couple more deep kisses, savoring how perfect your lips felt and tasted against his own.

He then confirms again with a nod if you’re okay to proceed further, to which you nod back, allowing him to remove your shirt. He also helps you shimmy out of those cutesy shorts of yours, tossing the clothes somewhere up front.

Although you still have your undergarments on and you agreed to do this, you feel so exposed and vulnerable now. Jeno was still fully clothed while he began to fiddle with your bra strap, which made this feel unfair.

“Let me take off your shirt.” you whined and batted your lashes at Jeno, causing him to halt his attempt in wanting to remove your bra next.

He can’t help but smile as you grab onto his flannel shirt, waiting for him to give you the signal to remove it. You were so fucking cute.

“My bad, pretty. I’m all yours.” he kissed your cheek before allowing you to do so, which made you burn inside with all kinds of sensual emotions.

He watched you in awe as you shakily started to undo all his buttons, entertained in seeing the curiosity behind your eyes of unveiling what lies beneath the fabric.

With his shirt now open, he fully removed it himself by pulling off the sleeves and threw it in the growing pile up front, leaving his entire torso bare.

Now uncovered, you can’t help the admiration beholding your eyes as you view his exposed skin.

It shouldn’t have been such a shocker that a handsome face like his had the perfect body to match: hard chest, sculpted abs, and lean waist that contrasted from his broad shoulders.

You really lucked out.

“Like what you see?” Jeno can’t help but snicker, aware that he had this effect on people. You just boosted his ego even more.

You can’t help but giggle at the cliche line, eyes timidly flying away from his torso. Unfortunately he doesn’t get a verbal response from you, but he knows how you feel inside.

“For the record… I definitely like what I see.” he traces the edges of your body, appreciating your skin and details.

Your eyes redirect to his face, watching him eye you hungrily, his fingers beginning to delicately feather over the lace detailing of your bra. Your breathing slows, air tense with you seated over him and his vision glued heartily on you.

His eyes find yours with his fingers still over your bra. You pump your chest out a bit, gesturing to him that you want things to proceed and to remove the rest of your garments.

He immediately leads his hands to your back, unhooking your lacy bra. Your mounds spill out as he removes it and tosses it to the side, the sight making his cock so pumped, full of blood.

“Beautiful girl.” he mumbles, then latches his mouth onto the underside of your ear, making you angle your face to give him better access.

The open-mouth kisses he leaves activates the nerves around your neck. It tickles for a second, but he hits that sweet spot of yours, making you melt.

You’d give into any demand of his with the way his warm lips suck and nibble over your delicate skin. You grind down into him, arms hooked around his neck, clutching for security or else you’d probably melt away.

Your sex only covered by thin panties rutting against his cock straining through his jeans has him groaning into your neck. He zealously continues to suck on your neck, adding gentle bites and hot licks in between, making you arch your neck to the front and moan out of pure bliss. You secretly hope he’d leave a mark or two, so you’d have a visual reminder of this heated night for a few days.

His kisses meander to your throat and chest, tongue sliding out to trace all around one of your areolas, lips then enfolding over the nipple.

Squeals of delight reign free from your throat at Jeno’s foreplay, continuing while he engulfs and sucks both your firm nipples.

“You sound so pretty for me, girly.” he rasps out, dragging his lips over your fleshy, supple breasts.

The nickname sends lightning straight to your core, making you whimper in neediness.

Jeno ends the fun with enjoying your tits to start the pleasure awaiting for him from your cunt.

His left hand holds you while his right hand travels down your tummy, until it reaches the bit of skin below your navel.

There’s a dark appetite visible in his orbs. He looks at you for any sign of uneasiness while his hand goes down. Your breath only hitches, pussy tingling with a quiet gasp from your mouth once his fingers rubbed down to your panty-covered cunt.

It’s so damp and warm down here, he thinks to himself.

“So horny, aren’t we now?”

The way he talks to you alone makes you ignite within.

He decides to pull your underwear to the side, his fingers now coming in full, bare contact with the outside of your pussy.

You’re practically holding your breath at this point, waiting for him to play with you, anticipating the feeling.

“Me too.” he utters, answering his own rhetorical question before he starts running his fingers slowly around your clit.

His touch on your swelling bud causes another hushed gasp to come from you. He’s beyond pleased by listening to all the noises your voice produces due to his sultry touches.

His finger tips slid over your clit and then inched down, feeling the outside of your sex and letting you grow accustomed to his touch.

He ends up sliding one finger up your hole, leaving your mouth ajar and body to quiver from him inserting it in.

Jeno’s tongue licks around his teeth while he fingers you, your walls so tight around his finger.

“Relax for me, hm?” he leans in to kiss you, easing your body to the feeling.

His lips continuously colliding with your own makes you lost for a moment, body fuzzy and loosened up until he decides to squeeze in another finger.

The jolt of pressure wrenched a moan out of you, making Jeno draw back to bite his lip and laugh quietly. It was such a turn on for him to listen and see the beautiful noises and faces you make— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

He was prepping your pussy for his own length, already salivating in thinking of you taking him whole.

His long, thick fingers curl into a ‘hook’ motion, causing your legs to shake in lust and a shiver runs inside your core that tingled.

“Mhmmm…” you mewled, starting to subconsciously grind and meet the movements of his fingers toying with your moist and velvety sex.

Watching your responses to his movements feels so good to Jeno. He can feel you start to clamp around his digits, making his own mouth open and turn into a smirk. His cock is painfully hard, begging to be free and feel that clamping sensation that his own fingers do. He really hates to rip you from nearing your climax, but he’d rather you both cum together, your body underneath his.

With that, he halts his movements and removes his fingers. A broken whine rips from your throat at the feeling of him leaving your needy cunt. You could practically cry. Desperation clouded over you.

Jeno quickly quiets you down with now inserting those sticky fingers of his inside your mouth, causing you to hum around his digits, eyes wide and then closed shut.

The fullness and heaviness from his fingers and your own essence weighing over your tongue has your pussy clenching over nothing. You eagerly suck your wetness from his fingers, not bothered that he was just in you. This was all so racy.

“Such a good girl for me— fuck.” he groans, watching you suck his fingers in, your teeth faintly raking over them, cock twitching at how dirty this sweet girl was.

“Gonna make you cum from my cock, don’t worry.”

He removes his fingers from your mouth, pulling you off his lap, motioning you to lay back down.

Your heart rate picks up as you carefully lie over his backseat. He traces the delicate curves of your hips and finds his way to the band of your underwear, you each sharing a nod of consent for him to remove them.

He tugs them down and off, tossing them and he gets you to pull your knees up, allowing more room for Jeno within this limited space.

He mentally whistles at the sight of your princess parts and the position you’re in, waiting for him to take you in the back of his car.

He doesn’t waste anymore time and hastily gets rid of his confining jeans and briefs, his cock immediately standing proudly once his underwear is pulled off.

The sight of his big and thick, towering manhood has your breath stuck in your throat.

While he moves and reaches over to dig for a condom in his glove compartment, your palms become sweaty in the thought of him squeezing his length inside you.

He looked absolutely delicious, but you weren’t sure if you could handle someone as big as him.

Jeno finds a condom, ripping the plastic open with his teeth and flings the wrapper out of sight. He stretches the rubber over his length, precum already leaking from his tip.

As he inches towards you, you can’t help but voice your concern.

“Will it fit? you shakily breathed.

Jeno can’t help but tilt his head, staring at you intently. His lips can’t help but curl, offering you a reassuring smile.

His lips suddenly find themselves over your knees, pressing a gentle kiss over both of them, making your heart pump with fondness.

“We will make it fit.”

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? Don’t want you in pain, pretty.”

“Okay.” is all you say, still sweaty, but ready for him to enter you, core aching to be touched again.

He massages the inside of your thighs with care, trying to ease you up some more. He grabs his length and rubs it along your folds— especially dragging the tip past your clit, making you moan at the sensation.

He finally takes it upon him to prudently push his cock into your entrance, his mouth open while he starts to stretch you out.

Your legs immediately hook around him and rest on his lower back, meanwhile your arms decide to cling onto his beefy biceps for support. You cry out a moan from the pressure.

“It’s okay, girly, I got you.”

“You’re safe with me. Gonna take care of you.” Jeno’s breath fans over your face before he captures your lips with his. His hips slowly begin to roll as you kissed him back with enthusiasm, a burst of adrenaline racing through your bloodstream.

Your walls practically swallowed him, cock fitting so snug inside you. His left hand brushed into your hair, running his fingers loosely around your locks, making you relax from his touch.

“God! You— you’re so big.” you blatantly puffed out, starting to feel his thick cock brush past your walls.

“Yeah? You can take it, pretty— right?” the blood in Jeno’s body starts to boil due to the warmth encompassing his length, and from the sense of pride filling him from your reaction to his size.

He begins to start a steady pace with his hip movements, sliding his cock in and out— not all the way, but enough to stimulate your sensitive walls.

He falls into a natural pattern as your body accepts him well. Your vision darts upwards towards the roof of the car, beginning to lose yourself to his fat cock.

Though it quickly lowers again when his head dips into your right breast, tongue slipping out and starting to twist around your erect nipple.

A mewl jumps out of you, hands redirecting to his muscular back with your nails pressing tightly into his skin.

“C’mon, talk to me.” Jeno rasps, making brief eye contact with you for a second before he briskly attacks your entire right breast with his mouth. He ferociously makes out with your mound and marks you, painting you with reddish-purple splotches and leaving the flesh sheening in spit.

His hunger for attention and to get you both off is ardent. Every other thrust into you is rigid. He was pacing himself at first to start off, but now his rhythm increases to fuck you hard and his length travels into you deep. He has no intention in holding back his horniness.

Lack of words from you aside from the whimpers and moans has him moving a hand to touch and toy with your clit. His calloused fingers alternate between softly pinching and sliding his fingers in a back-and-forth motion along the puffy bud.

“Oh— God! Jeno!” the attentiveness he shows to your aching clit while ramming into you has you scream his name. It has you automatically canting your hips up to meet his thrusts into you.

Your reactions and hearing his name from your voice drives Jeno wild. Breathy grunts leave his mouth, hips continuing in chasing both of your highs.

The current setting and moment is electrifying. Fucking in the car in a school parking lot was obscene and limited compared to bed space, but it was still extremely mind-numbing and euphoric sex.

Your frame caged under Jeno’s ripped body is like a dream. You felt so helpless in this position, but couldn’t possibly wish for him to stop. It was so hot seeing and feeling his figure fuck you into oblivion.

Your body rocking over the leather car seats only amplifies your feeling of sensitivity and arousal. God, how amazing it felt for Jeno to be pleasing you in this way was. You can’t even imagine how good it would be to fuck in other ways— in other places, with him.

His relentless efforts has your mouth stuck open. The arousement increases the amount of saliva within your mouth. Surprise catches you when some of it seeps out the corner of your mouth.

Your tongue lolls out in attempt to catch the drool before it fully falls, failing miserably as it rapidly trickles down from the corner, to your chin. Quickly, you wipe it off messily and then place your hand back over his skin, but it’s obvious that Jeno sees what just happened, as he’s right over you— much to your embarrassment.

Though, his cock surges in amusement, and so does his other head. You were literally drooling over his cock. How fucking sexy was that? Wonder how’d you look on your knees giving him the messiest head. Oh how he hopes to have that thought come to life one day.

“Mhm. So hot— fucking my cute, pretty neighbor. You like that too, hm? You like the feeling of your big neighbor on top and inside of you?” he teases you, watching your pretty figure being ruined beautifully by him. His filthy words mix with his dirty, animalistic movements.

“Feels so full and good, Jeno!” you choke out. You’re blissed out, feeling like the band in your core may snap soon.

There you go saying his name again, making Jeno groan repeatedly in ecstasy, dragging his cock deep into you, his weighty sack occasionally slapping against your bottom.

“Yeah? So full of me, pretty.”

“Taking me so well, like a good girl.”

Heat swells in your cheeks from his comments and the hot temperature and pressure felt as he fucks you. As much as you savor it, it’s becoming too much. The finish line is coming close to being ripped apart.

The thrill in the pit of your stomach has it churning. His long, deep strokes, each of your various moans bouncing off the tinted windows, his gruffly voice, and his finger-work over your sensitive bud— it’s all captivating you to feel an abundance of dopamine rush.

A shiver in your core tingles consistently. You’re beginning to lose control. It’s like you’re stoned and can’t focus on anything aside from the intensity of that tingly pressure present within you.

“Gonna cum, Jeno.” your voice cracked while your muscles tightened.

“Fuck,” he hisses at the tight grip of your walls swallowing him from the tip to base.

Your eyes rolled back behind your trembling lashes, and he watches with a keen stare and relishes in your smutty sounds. It all only encourages him to keep persisting to reach the peak.

And then, you finally break.

Your fluid expels from your pussy, lubricating your walls and leaving you a whimpering, wet mess.

Jeno pushes through your spasming, feeling the warmth spreading in your heated cunt through his condom. His own muscles can’t resist in clenching hard. He pushed you over the edge and possessed your mind and body with euphoria.

It’s practically heaven. His balls tighten and eyebrows push together with hips starting to slow down as strings of cum begin to fill his condom. It’s so relieving that a few guttural moans come out from his throat.

His hot seed falling into the condom is so fulfilling, sack emptied. All this activity has left him sweaty all over and mouth dry. His chest continues to heave and he carefully pulls out of you.

You shake and shiver now that the tension is dying down, and your muscles try to relax after the satisfying orgasm.

Jeno is quick to remove his used condom and tie it, abandoning it in a random spot in the car. He’ll of course, clean his car later.

He reaches towards the front of the car to search for his shirt, and then edges back to you.

“Hey, you were amazing, sweet girl. Let me help you.” Jeno spoke softly to you while the back of his fingers stroke one of your shaky thighs.

He began to use his shirt as a rag for any wetness seeping out and around the outside of your cunt.

You couldn’t help but flush at the aftercare he shows you, even while in a car and not hesitating to sacrifice his shirt to wipe your spills. Seems like chivalry isn’t dead after all.

“Thank you.” you say to him when he’s finished.

He just smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he sticks out a hand for you to grab, and helps you sit up next to him.

Still both fully naked, you still feel flushed and exposed now that the sex was over. Your breasts hanging out and his cock lying limp over his thigh was too hard to ignore. Jeno notices, and quickly gathers your t-shirt for you and his briefs for him, making you thank him once again.

You don’t know what to say now and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s obvious now that you two have an attraction to one another. But, where do you two go from here? Will this be a one time thing? Or maybe a friends-with-benefits type of deal? Guess you didn’t need a label right away, you barely know him. But you know you needed more of him, in any way— sexual or not.

In the midst of each of your silence, Jeno decides to reach for your hand, clasping his fingers with your own under his. He gently squeezes your hand, causing your own legs to squeeze together, beginning to feel a sense of giddiness inside.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, thumb beginning to soothe you as he drags it back and forth the side of your hand.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” the words leap out of you, making you cringe as soon as they come out.

Mortification washes over you. Why the fuck would you ask that? What are you even implying?

Your sudden question makes him chuckle and grin, especially now that you already fucked. You guys are just now having this conversation.

“No Y/n, I don’t. I’m one-hundred percent single.” he smirks at you, thumb still tracing your skin.

His answer is pleasing to your ears. You try not to show how obviously happy you are with that. A faint smile is all you allow yourself to show.

“You don’t have a boyfriend now, do you?” he tilts his head at you, eyes playful.

“I don’t.” you spoke softly.

Just like you, Jeno finds himself content with your answer.

“Good girl.”

ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki [TEASER]

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, comfort ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 6-10k (est.)

⭒ RELEASE DATE -› IT'S HEREEEEEEEE YAYYYY

⭒ REN SAYS... spiderman niki is a need hes so cute i love riki sm 😕🫵 also poll voted for this and tbh i just wanna write downbad riki LOLZ | LIBRARY

“God, I don’t think you can look at her any more down bad than you already do right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he watches you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last night. Let me have this before I die in a week.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair. “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up to her balcony in my suit. Do that cheesy upside kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spiderman thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, his eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” Is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah- whatever confidence he had 37 minutes ago really isn’t serving him well in this moment, because frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it, really- because you don’t really have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to someone I know- someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from overthinking if he keeps wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM ☐ talk to ____ regularly ☐ don't make it awkward ☐ be..cute?

THERE IS NO OFFICIAL TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC, join my perm taglist to be notified when this fic comes out!

if you’d like to proofread this, i’d love for someone to join my chaotic half done doc and offer some feedback/advice!

permanent fic taglist (send ask to be added) : @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog

[yagis-pile]

to be fair op is addressing high schoolers

and just because something is legally protected doesn't mean your rights won't be illegally violated. what are they gonna do? pursue legal action on mom and dad's pocketbook?

it's not quite representative of an oppressive state, more of a stupid school, but I'd say it's still something to resist authority figures that want to pretend they live in/support a transition to a truly oppressive state

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

[angelwonie]

ME AND THE DEVIL || coriolanus snow

PAIRING: coriolanus x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, slowburn, enemies to lovers, angst (if you squint)

SUMMARY: Coriolanus Snow is a difficult man to please. And yet you have overtaken his mind—you, the only person in the academy who seems to have no interest in him. But he is also a persuasive man, and he usually gets what he wants. There's only one problem: falling in love wasn't a part of the plan.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degradation, praise, overstimulation, manhandling, edging, crying, breeding kink, brat taming?, coryo is mean but down bad], canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and guns, morally gray coriolanus

It started with a change of seats.

In the academy, students were assigned a study partner meant to last throughout the year. The partners were to sit together in the lecture rooms, write each assignment together and support the other in weakness. The goal of this premise was to keep all students attentive and growing—the academy hardly accepted laziness and not at all incompetence. In the top class which consisted of, as the name suggests, the academy’s finest students, the hunger for success stood stronger, and tolerance for failure—lower. Therefore study partners were as close to a lifeline as a student could come.

Coriolanus had no problem with that. Working with others, as vexing as it could be, brought on more pros than cons, especially when he was allowed to take the lead. And if anything went wrong, he was free to blame someone else for the outcome—though Highbottom never really believed him. 

The Problem, which currently he referred to with a capital P in his mind, had begun when Dr. Gaul suddenly announced a change in the seating arrangement. 

It came as a shock to everyone and frankly, turned the whole orderly system on its head. Livia was moved away to sit with Festus; Gaius with a clearly disdainful Arachne; and he—with you, a girl just recently having joined the top class and taken the spot of a guy who had moved down in ranks. 

Originally, you had seated yourself next to Sejanus, in the only empty seat in the room. When Dr. Gaul walked into the room, they all stood. She told them not to bother sitting again and began reading the names of what was to become new partnerships.

Coriolanus could hear Clemensia letting out a groan of frustration upon her name being read out alongside Sejanus’. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop his smile from spreading at the misfortune he had evaded.

But it didn’t last long, this state of contentment, because soon his own name was read aloud—with yours. 

Your face, as he noticed upon looking in your direction, had no distinctive emotion written across it. Your brows were ever so slightly raised, the corners of your mouth straight. You spared a single glance in his direction—glimmering eyes meeting his blue ones—then, without much reaction, strolled towards the seat which Clemensia had yet to vacate. 

“I think you’re in my seat.”

It was the first time he heard your voice. It was far from gentle, but not exactly rough; clear, but not exactly loud. You were standing with your back straight, your bag at your side. 

The sound brought Clemensia’s attention to your figure for a solid second before she turned to Coriolanus, brows furrowed. 

“This is so stupid. Why would she separate us when she knows how well we work together?” 

He didn’t have time to answer before you took a step closer, this time letting your lips spread in a smile. It revealed your teeth, but no cordiality. “You’re still in my seat. You can question the authority of our teachers another time, right?”

Clemensia, a little stunned, stood unmoving until Dr. Gaul shouted at her from the other side of the room. She took her things and with a last look of disbelief cast Coriolanus’ way, moved towards her own designated seat.

You placed your bag by the desk and sat down, legs crossed at the knees. Coriolanus did the same, although his eyes drifted to his right just a little. You looked a bit like a Greek statue, with your posture and expression so much like his own. 

Dr. Gaul clapped her hands anew. “Well, what are you waiting for? Introduce yourselves!”

Coriolanus cleared his throat and you turned to him, a somewhat bored look in your eyes. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” he said, extending a hand. 

You didn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.” 

You didn’t speak to him any more that day. Or the day after that. Or the next.

All he had was your name and the (maybe feigned) looks of boredom you seldom sent him. And a growing annoyance which came about each time he politely told you good morning and you replied in a dull tone. 

Nobody knew much about you, which resulted in what students do best when met with lack of information—they make up their own. Livia Cardew claimed you were from district 1. Clemensia whispered to Coriolanus about how your place in the academy was most certainly bought by your parents. Festus Creed was utterly convinced your arrival was a test to see how long they would last alongside a girl who showed no interest in anyone and yet walked with her head high.

But the only rumor which held any truth to it at all was Arachne’s hesitant scoff about how she knew you before. 

Livia immediately picked up on the statement and leaned forward in her chair. “You did? So she isn’t from district one?” 

“No. But she might as well have been.” Arachne looked to the rest of them for a dramatic effect. “She’s a total bitch, anyway. That’s all there is to say.” 

That ended the discussion. 

One day, perhaps a week after you and Coriolanus had become study partners, you walked into the academy wearing the tiniest skirt he had ever seen. It was the academy’s uniform, only altered to be shorter and tighter, framing your hips perfectly and ending just about halfway of your thigh.

Coriolanus heard Clemensia scoff from where she stood by his side. 

“Attention seeker.”

“Is that even allowed?” Festus asked, though it was unclear whether he meant vandalizing the academy uniform or how otherworldly your legs looked in the skirt. 

Whichever it was, the answer was probably no. 

On a daily basis, you were already pretty. He knew it and he was well aware the other boys also knew it from the way they eyed you like hawks when you weren’t looking. And, let’s be honest, you were never looking at any of them. So there was a whole lot of staring which Coriolanus caught every time, while you remained either oblivious or too stubborn to acknowledge the attention. 

Now, he thought, you must be aware of it—at the very least.

He, personally, was painfully aware of it. Like an embarrassing Victorian man whose mouth waters at the sight of a woman’s ankles, he felt his pants were suddenly too tight. It was in a state of panic that he adjusted himself, clearing his throat. His hand squeezed the desk he was leaning against as he mumbled an incoherent reply that was just enough for Festus and Clemmie to continue their conversation without his input. 

From over Clemensia’s shoulder, he could see Volumnia Gaul and Casca Highbottom strolling into the room. 

“Dr. Gaul’s here,” he said, pointing with his jaw.  

“Oh, right.”

The two of them walked away and Coriolanus closed his eyes, rubbing his nose bridge. 

Once he opened them again, he was met with your frame approaching—and he almost jolted in surprise. Your hair was hanging loosely down your shoulders, pinned back on one side to reveal golden earrings. You took a step in his direction and he wondered what for—the distance between you was close to nothing. 

“Move.”

Taken aback, he fought the urge to look around and see if anyone else had heard. But no, you were too far and class was almost starting; everyone was busy with themselves. 

“Sorry?” he asked with a strained smile.

You sighed, looking vaguely annoyed. “You’re blocking my way.” 

He grit his teeth, moving aside. You sauntered past him and into your seat, which he only now realized he had been standing in front of. Your skirt flowed behind you; when you bent down to place your bag on the ground he almost caught a glimpse of your panties. Almost. But what he saw was enough to fill him with rage that didn’t subside for the rest of the lesson—along with his boner. 

“I personally think she’s nice,” Sejanus offered when Coriolanus mentioned your poor behavior towards him during lunch. Of course, he said nothing of his dick hardening—oversharing wasn’t his forte. 

“Well, you don’t sit with her.”

“I did. And she was nice to me.” 

He sent Sejanus a death glare which worked effectively to shut him up. 

Coriolanus didn’t really care about your demeanor. It didn’t mess with his work—when you had to be cooperative, you were. And outside of class, Clemensia was more than happy to cling to his arm like a koala. The same went for Sejanus. What bothered him was that look—of disdain, boredom—the lazy way in which you displayed your distaste, like he wasn’t even worth an effort to hate. Because you didn’t hate him.

You just… didn’t care. 

You terrified him. You made him see red. You made him react physically, for God’s sake. And he had spoken to you all of twice. How pathetic was that? Enough to stay forever in his thoughts, that much was certain. He was never going to say a word about this to anyone. 

But worst of all was this: you liked Sejanus. 

Whenever he saw you talking to anyone, it was either your friends from your old class or him. Sejanus Plinth, from district two, with nothing but irritating opinions and a fortune to offer. He saw you laugh at his half-developed jokes, look at him in total focus while he spoke. 

One day, about a month after it all, when Highbottom showed no signs of letting them switch seats ever again, he decided to ask you about it. Dr. Gaul was currently strolling about the lecture room, monologuing, which gave him enough time to lean to the side, towards you. 

“Seems like you and Sejanus have gotten quite close,” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. 

If you registered his words, you made no signs of it. His eyes trailed lower, to your tiny, tiny skirt and the plushness of your thighs which he was free to look at but not allowed to touch. He clenched his jaw and tried again. 

“What is it you want? His money?”

At this, your head whipped in his direction. His cool, blue eyes bore into yours and he could see anger, clear like black on a white piece of paper, in your gaze. Your shoulders were tense, lips barely parted. But this only lasted a brief moment—a glitch in your composure—before you straightened your back and grit your teeth into a feigned smile.

“And you? What do you want from him?” 

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Dr. Gaul’s piercing voice. 

“Miss L/N and Mr. Snow! Perhaps the two of you will answer my question since you’re so deep in discussion.” The woman looked at the two of you sternly. “What is the point of the hunger games?” 

You looked at Coriolanus, who seemed perfectly content in his seat. He had no intention of answering. Bastard. You folded your hands into fists and stood up. Everyone was looking, but only Coriolanus’ gaze made your heart thump against your chest. It felt as if you had something to prove. 

“To keep the districts at bay.” With a glance towards Sejanus, you bit the inside of your cheek. “In a highly unethical way, of course. It hardly takes killing twenty-three children to prove a point.” 

“District children. Remember that,” said Dr. Gaul. “You may sit.” 

You obeyed, suppressing a sigh of relief. 

At least it was relief until you felt a hot breath on the side of your neck, paired with Coriolanus whispering, “Liar.” 

You looked at him, seemingly unphased, and let out a soft scoff. “If you didn’t like my answer, you should have said something instead.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, just that it was a lie. Don’t worry, though, I don’t think Sejanus can tell.”

Your jaw tightened indiscernibly. The boy whose curls were falling into his forehead gave a smirk, eyes trailing to where Sejanus was sitting and then back again. You just looked at him, unwavering. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“And you know nothing about me,” he said, lips spreading to reveal his teeth. “Now we’re both liars.” 

***

On the third of the month, the Plinths threw a party.

It was a large gathering, consisting mainly of the academy’s students and their immediate family. The occasion was unclear—unofficially, it was said the Plinths wanted to scout the students to see who was fit to win the Plinth prize. But it was just rumors. Officially, it was a celebration of the academy’s fiftieth anniversary.

After all it had endured—the rebellion, the war, Coriolanus Snow—a party seemed in order.

On the topic of Snow—you were terribly irritated by the way his words were swarming around your head like bees. Somehow, you had managed to remember his voice down to every shiver and for whatever reason, your brain wouldn’t let go of it. Even as your mother, with her eyes fixated on the mirror, smoothed out the length of your silky dress and asked if you liked it. Even as the two of you left the apartment. Even as you exited the car and walked up the steps to the academy’s ballroom. 

“Nervous?” your mother asked. 

“No.” 

She pushed the doors open. 

Coriolanus had showed up to the party in a fitted, dark suit along with his grandma’am right on time. Upon his arrival, he had scouted Sejanus somewhere in a corner with his overbearing parents, while Clemensia stood with Livia and her sister. You were nowhere to be seen as far as his eye could reach. His grandma’am dragged him around the room in search of conversation partners and somehow ended up deepening into a discussion with Mr. Plinth, leaving her grandson to fend for himself with Sejanus by his side. The farce lasted for about half an hour; he felt himself growing weary. 

Then, you came in.

Fashionably late, as always, with your mother at your side, you strolled in like the entire party was thrown in your honor. And truly—he might’ve believed you if you said so, with the way your strapless dress sat around your curves.

In his peripheral vision, he could glimpse Sejanus swallowing hard. Coriolanus fought the urge to outright laugh at the ludicrous hope swimming in the eyes of his ‘friend’. He was reaching too high. Way too high. 

“Y/N! What a relief, you’re here!” 

It was the voice of Strabo Plinth that made you turn your head in the direction of their little clique. A smile spread over your face, but disappeared as soon as your gaze landed on Coriolanus. He watched carefully as you approached with your mother, the pearls on your neck glistening in the overhead light. Sejanus was still staring like a fool; Coriolanus felt his blood turn the slightest bit warmer, the tips of his fingers tingling. 

“Mr. Plinth, Sejanus.” You sent the two of them a sweet smile, then cast a look at Coriolanus with your lips pulled tight. “Coriolanus.” 

He nodded at you. “Sweetheart.” 

You didn’t comment on his choice of word, but he could see your jaw tightening and your chest fluttering, pressing against the restraints of your dress.

Thankfully, it seemed nobody else had heard—Mr. Plinth was too busy gushing over yours and Sejanus’ friendship to notice anything else. Coriolanus’ shoulder bumped into yours and you shuddered. The conversation dragged on until Mr. Plinth was beckoned over by another group of people who looked like politicians, and wandered off with a cranky Sejanus in tow. 

Left alone with Coriolanus and his grandmother, you began to plot your and your mother’s escape. 

“Look, mom, there’s Livia. We should go say hi.” 

You had taken less than five steps before Dr. Gaul’s voice reached your ears. 

“Not so fast, miss L/N,” she said, a menacing smile on her face. She waved you and your mother over to where she was standing—right between Snow and his grandmother. “Surely your mother wants to meet the only gentleman whose grades are as good as her daughter’s.” 

Your mother took the bait immediately, forcing you to follow her back to where you wanted so deeply to escape. “Oh, gosh, really? Coriolanus Snow, is it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He bowed his head, sending your mother one of his disgustingly gorgeous smiles. 

“Now, Coriolanus and Y/N are my best students.” Dr. Gaul, more enthusiastic than you had ever seen her, pulled you and Coriolanus to either side of her, squeezing your shoulders. “And study partners, too. They work so well together. How about the two of you go for a dance?” 

“Oh, I don’t dance—”

“Yes, Y/N,” your mother obliviously interrupted, “don’t let those five-year dancing lessons go to waste.” 

Your face formed into a half-smile, half-frown. “Right.”

Coriolanus sent you a triumphant smile as he stuck out an arm for you to take. You hesitantly snaked yours through it, heart hammering as he led you onto the dance floor.

The song playing was irritatingly slow, and Dr. Gaul’s smile too wide for all this to be a coincidence, but you decided to let it slide—it wasn’t like you really had a choice. Coriolanus positioned you in front of him. From over his shoulder, you could spot Sejanus, to whom you mouthed a silent plea for help, but the boy proved useless when all he did was send you a smile and a shrug. 

Coriolanus placed his hands on your waist appropriately and you hesitantly placed your own atop his broad shoulders. Although you made sure not to touch him more than you had to, the hardness of his muscles was prominent against your fingertips.

The distance between you vexed Coriolanus to no end—especially when he had seen you in a skimpy, tiny black dress all pressed up against Sejanus at Arachne’s birthday party. His fingers harshly tugged at your waist and he smiled in satisfaction at the way your body pliantly molded into him. A gasp threatened to escape you, but you held it back, instead swallowing quietly. 

It turned out both of you were excellent dancers. Coriolanus sensed exactly when you were to make an unexpected move and was always able to maneuver you however he wanted. 

Finally, you decided to speak—a five-minute song danced in silence would last an eternity. “Clemensia’s staring daggers into my back. Am I in danger?” 

The blonde smiled. “Not at all.” 

“How come?”

“I’ll protect you.”

You smiled incredulously, shaking your head. “I hope you have a knife underneath your blazer, then, because she looks dangerous.” 

“I could snap her neck in half with one hand.” 

The way he said it—no hesitation and total seriousness—made you choke on the laughter that was supposed to come out, replacing it with a burning sensation somewhere in the depths of your stomach. His hand, on the small of your back, fiddled gently with the lacing of your dress, then lazily moved back to your waist. 

You cleared your throat. “I heard your father was a great man.” 

“Yes.”

“I’ve also heard he was a terrible person.” You tilted your head to the side, putting on a curious expression. “So, which one is it?”

“Are the two mutually exclusive?” 

At that, you laughed. Real laughter, with your head tipped back—laughter he had never heard before, not even when you were around Sejanus. Something swelled proudly inside his chest. 

“Only you could say something so bizarre. But no, I suppose they’re not.” 

He swayed his hips along with yours, then brought your hand up, signaling he wanted for you to spin. Whilst he swirled you around, you felt the tips of his fingers against your cheekbone, tucking something behind your ear. Once you were in front of him again, you brought your hand to touch the soft surface that felt like a flower. 

“What is that?”

He raised one corner of his mouth. “A rose.” 

“And why, pray tell, are you giving me a rose?”

He swirled you again, this time his fingers grabbing at the flesh between your clavicle and throat, pulling you against him. You felt his very fingertips, cold and soft, against your muscle, his hot breath against your left ear. 

“To mark my territory.” 

With that, he swirled you back and resumed the ordinary dance, with a deadpan expression and shining eyes, emitting an unidentifiable emotion. 

Your cheek trembled, although you tried to hide it by tightening your jaw. “It’s picked from your garden, then, I suppose.” 

“Grandma’am’s.”

“Really?”

Before you could do anything, he leaned forwards so the tip of your nose grazed his pulse. You stood stunned, taking a breath and being met with the strong smell of roses. You caught a glimpse of his collarbones, peeking out from underneath the two buttons he had undone in his shirt. He drew back before you could think to push him away, lips spreading into a smile. 

“Those are also from our garden,” he murmured.

“Coriolanus…”

He liked the way you said his name this time.

Not arrogantly or carelessly, but like it was the most important thing in the world; a bar of gold in your hands. And the shiver in your voice—the thought it must’ve been the most delightful thing he had ever heard. He wanted— no, he deserved to hear it again, but it would have to wait. You were looking up at him the way he yearned you would, like he was impossible to ignore. 

“Hmm?”

You smiled a strained smile, chest heaving. “The song has ended. I believe I should go dance with somebody else.”

Without awaiting a response, you released yourself from his grip and turned your back on him. He stood in somewhat of a silent shock.

And he felt it again, this immense anger because how dare you wrap your arms around Sejanus and convince him to a dance, when he’s standing right here, ready to rip anyone’s throat open to feel your body against him again. 

After your dance with Sejanus, you scurried off to the bathroom, silently inspecting the rose sitting neatly in your hair above your ear. It was a piercing red, matching perfectly with your dress. You sighed into the mirror, rolling your eyes. 

The rest of the evening was spent drinking champagne—too much of it, definitely, but who was counting the glasses which you picked up and later discarded?

Coriolanus, of course, but he was much too embarrassed to say anything and much too agitated and proud to even consider asking Sejanus to look after you. No, he’d rather see you pass out drunk than have Plinth take care of you—he could do that himself. But he didn’t. Not that day, anyway. He left the party somewhat early, assisting his grandma’am down the stairs although she claimed she didn’t need his help.

“What has gotten into you today? You’re too eager to help and you’re looking around like a lost district child.”

“I’m not, grandma’am. Get into the car.” 

But before he could follow in her footsteps, he heard laughter—the same laughter he had heard for the first time just an hour earlier.

He turned automatically, without much thought, and felt rage well up in him as he saw you and Sejanus leaving the hall shoulder-to-shoulder, your respective parents in tow. You were clearly drunk, your steps unsteady. 

Sejanus said something to you, apparently something you found funny, because you slapped his shoulder and laughed again. Unfortunately for you, the heels you were wearing weren’t exactly wasted-proof and gave out from underneath you when you moved your ankle to the side. 

It took the slip of a second for you to tumble down the remaining four steps of the stairs, and another two for Coriolanus to catch you, his arms knitting tightly around your waist. 

“Coriolanus,” you mumbled, at a loss for anything better to say. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, but he went out of his way to sit you down on the stairs and inspect your ankle anyway. 

“Stupid girl,” he said, landing a barely discernible slap to the side of your thigh as he stood, having concluded you were alright. “Why drink more than you can handle?” 

“I have a habit of getting in over my head.” 

He looked down at you, the disheveled hair and still present rose which you hadn’t taken out yet, and smiled. Slowly, Sejanus and the rest of them descended down the stairs and Coriolanus turned to get in the car. But first, he sent you a smirk over his shoulder. 

***

Dr. Gaul’s experiments were always interesting.

In the best cases, they were innovative and in the worst—fatal. None of the academy’s top class knew which one this one would turn out to be when they followed Highbottom into the laboratory. 

“What if she kills us?” Livia, who wasn’t particularly fond of you but neither did she feel a particular distaste for you, whispered.

“She won’t,” you whispered back. “We have the president’s son in our class.”

“Right.”

The lot of you walked inside, scattered randomly until Gaul reminded everyone to stick to their partners. You heard Clemensia let out a prolonged sigh upon Coriolanus escaping her grip and approaching you instead. 

He smiled self-importantly. “Y/N.”

“Snow.” 

The smile faded marginally.

Dr. Gaul ushered everyone closer. A servant dragged off the thick, two-meter long piece of fabric covering what at first sight looked like an aquarium, but later revealed to be a cylinder of rainbow-colored snakes. Someone gasped.

You furrowed your brows and took a glance at Coriolanus, who in turn looked back at you. You were quick to avoid his gaze, but not quick enough for him to miss it. 

Dr. Gaul sent you a half-enthusiastic, half-manic smile. “Now, everyone give me something of yours. Come on, I don’t have all day.” 

Coriolanus moved first, which you didn’t mind until he grabbed hold of you and pulled you along. 

“What are you doing?”

“What, are you scared?” 

His eyes twinkled and you tore away from his grip. But it was too late; the two of you were standing right in front of the open snake habitat. You swallowed hard.

He reached into his pocket and fished out a pencil—golden and engraved with his last name—before handing it to Dr. Gaul. You followed suit, albeit hesitantly, and handed her an embroidered handkerchief. 

The rest of the class did the same. Dr. Gaul received all the items, stacked them and instructed everyone to sit. Then she gathered it all into one big pile and threw it into the cage. Immediately, the snakes swarmed around the items, licking and slithering. 

“These snakes,” Dr. Gaul said, “are lethal only when met with a taste they don’t know. Meaning right now, when they’ve touched your things, they are harmless. Come say hi.” 

Nobody, including you, moved a muscle.

Obviously, everyone was busy figuring out why this was even an experiment if they were harmless—from what Dr. Gaul said it sounded more like a visit to the zoo. Next to you, Coriolanus furrowed his brows and stared the cage down with his icy eyes, inspecting. 

“No volunteers?” Dr. Gaul sighed. “How about Y/N and Coriolanus?” 

You froze, looking at Coriolanus with wide eyes. “You first.” 

He tilted his head. “Ask nicely.”

Forcing a smile, you swallowed your pride.

“Please.” 

He stood from the seat and you forced yourself to disregard his grin and the way his uniform strained around his back muscles. 

Just then, as your eyes followed his steps, you saw something by Dr. Gaul’s feet, something shimmering in gold. You squinted at the object. It was barely visible, currently hidden in Coriolanu’s shadow. Coriolanus walked up to the cage and the overhead light fell onto the object, revealing what looked like something engraved. The letter S. The letter N. The letter… 

“Coryo, wait!” You shot up from your seat. Coriolanus looked at you in bewilderment as you grabbed his wrist roughly. “You can’t touch them. Your pen isn’t in there.” 

“What?” His gaze dropped to the golden pen at your feet. 

You looked at his face, as if to make certain he was whole, then at his wrist in between your shaky fingers. How embarrassing, the way your body had grown so hot and how tragic, the way you had made a scene. You wondered what Coriolanus was thinking, with his mouth parted and eyes on you. 

Dr. Gaul clapping her hands together brought you back to reality. “Quite impressive, miss Y/N. I must admit, your reaction time was even faster than predicted.” 

You turned to her in disbelief and maybe a bit of anger. “You did it on purpose? Why?” 

“Why, to see if you were willing to save Mr. Snow here.” 

“That’s absurd, I would have done it for anyone!” Your face grew hot as you ripped your hand away from Coryo’s wrist, as though burned by his skin. “And what if I hadn’t noticed?”

“Then I would have known I made a mistake letting you into the top class. Regard this as a little test, if you will.” She sauntered happily over to you, where she stopped to whisper in your ear: “And for your information, miss Y/N, yesterday these snakes got familiar with mr. Snow through an assignment. I would never put him in danger, so calm your heart.” 

Dr. Gaul proclaimed the class dismissed and left—left you to stand in utter shock for at least ten seconds. Then, before any words could escape Coriolanus’ mouth, you followed in her footsteps, practically running out of the room. 

After this incident, you avoided him.

He noticed immediately, the lack of you in the hallways when he walked through them and the tenseness of your expression in class. Every time you showed up in those tiny skirts and paid him no mind, he resisted the urge to throw you over his shoulder. You had to be put in your place, certainly so—with the way you were messing with his head. A threat, but he chose to look past that, just this once. What he couldn’t look past were your plush thighs, pretty lips and addicting aura. 

Once, after school had finished, he cornered you in an empty classroom in which you were rummaging through your bag, clearly searching for something. 

“Looking for this?”

You jolted back, looking at him over your shoulder and at the kays dangling from his fingers. As your face grew hot, you turned your back to him again, suddenly not so keen on finding the keys. 

“They must have fallen out of my bag,” you mumbled. 

He inched closer, until his chest was against your back and he could drop the keys into your bag. They rattled—the only sound in the room spare for your breathing. 

He craned his neck to mumble against your earlobe, “How come you’re avoiding me, my sweet?”

You turned again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” You huffed at him, raising your head high. “Why would I avoid you? I simply don’t care for your presence.”

The side of his lips twitched. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I have class. I need to go,” you said, before realizing in terror that you’d both just had the last lesson of the day—of which he was fully aware. “I mean…” 

He took a step and you went silent. His hand cupped your jaw harshly, pointer finger and thumb on each respective side of it. He pulled you closer by his grip. 

“I thought I told you not to lie,” he said, squeezing your cheeks. “Did it not register in that pretty head of yours?”

Your lower lip trembled deliciously, eyes tinted with a hint of fear. “Coriolanus…”

“Call me Coryo. Like you did that day with the snakes.” 

There was a change in your expression: widened eyes turning normal again, lips curving into a soft smile as you pried his hand off. He let you, god knows why. Maybe because everything turned uncalculated when he was around you or maybe because he wanted you to listen to what he said. 

But you just said, “I’ll call you that when you earn it.” 

His blood boiled. 

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, sweetheart.”

“Sejanus is waiting for me outside, Coriolanus,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder teasingly. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

He grit his teeth. “Do you think this is a game?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Is it?” 

He held his outburst enough for you to leave—then, he punched the nearest surface and let out a loud groan. A threat, definitely. A dangerous one. But he’d tear it out of you—these sensations similar to his that he knew you felt.

And how could you be of real danger to him when he was just as much of a threat to you? 

***

When Dr. Gaul and Casca Highbottom announced an ‘educational school trip to district eight’, everyone thought they were joking. 

They were, in fact, not. They took the train for almost ten hours—by the end of it, everyone was weary and irritable. Dr. Gaul told everyone to pay special attention and care to their partners and make sure they were safe, and despite the tiring trip, Coriolanus took on his task with the utmost importance. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him as he, for the third time, slung his arm around you to pull you away from passing wagons. 

“Protecting you, like Dr. Gaul told us to.” 

You snorted a laugh. “I’m sure she didn’t mean from horses.”

“Horses can be dangerous.” 

You just rolled your eyes. His arm stayed draped around your shoulders for the rest of the walk. When you arrived at the inn, Coriolanus leaned close to you abruptly and placed a kiss on your cheek. Before you got the chance to even think of protesting, he was gone. 

The next day all of you were to join Highbottom in his speech in front of the district people.

It was a simple stage made of wood—the people stood spread out on a small square in front. There were almost too many to fit. 

You, as students, were not supposed to do anything in particular other than stand there and look pretty. Coriolanus made the effort to assure you you were splendid at it already, his fingers fanning over your waist. It sent shivers down your spine, and he smiled in self-satisfaction. You cursed him for his perceptiveness as the two of you walked onto stage. 

Coriolanus was far from relaxed as his eyes scanned the crowd. You just had to wear that godforsaken skirt in front of a bunch of starved men. If he could, he’d tear all their eyes out. Starting with that brown-haired asshole in the first row. As Higbottom began his speech, Coriolanus walked up to you and stood purposefully a bit in front, as though to cover you. 

“Is it not impractical to wear a skirt today?” he asked, sending you a pointed look.

“It’s quite warm,” you replied, blinking up at him. “Do you not like it? I wore it for you.” 

He clenched his jaw, heart swelling in pride. Of course he liked it—a little too much to be considered appropriate—but not for everyone to see. He leaned down almost indiscernibly, but you felt his hot breath fan your lips. 

“When I’m president, nobody is going to see you in that skirt except for me.”

You grinned. “When you’re president? What exactly is the extent of your ambition, Mr. Snow?” 

“You are.”

His pupils were expanded, fingers snaking to hold you by the waist. If anyone noticed, he didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter anyway. His fingers found their way under your uniform and he observed attentively as your eyes widened, teeth sinking into your lower lip when he caressed your bare side. 

“Okay, everyone, let’s go,” Highbottom said, signaling his speech was finished. 

Coriolanus let go of you. The lot of you moved, surrounded by peacekeepers until you reached the truck ramp. You walked first, carefully placing your steps. 

But you only managed to take three of them before something—someone, to be precise—pulled your leg to the side and you fell.

Your brain barely registered the pain of your bare knee hitting the ramp before you were no longer on the ramp, but the ground. An ache spread along your side. Coriolanus shouted your name as he jumped down from the ramp, despite Highbottom’s screams at him to stay but.

The man who had pulled you down, who Coriolanus recognized as the hungry-eyed man from the first row, pulled out a knife from his pocket. He lounged just as you froze, unmoving spare for the trembling of your lips. Coriolanus grabbed him and pushed him down; but not before he had managed to sink the knife into your calf. He heard you scream. 

“Help her!” he roared at the peacekeepers, who had their weapons raised at the man who was trying to get up from the ground, but weren’t firing. 

Coriolanus, enraged, ripped out the gun from one of the peacekeepers’ hands. He heard some words of protest but ignored them entirely as he pulled the trigger. And again. And again. And again. Until the man was more holes than flesh. 

“Help her, for fuck’s sake!” he roared again; this time they listened and gathered around you. 

He spared only a glance at your bleeding figure, then turned to the rest of District eight’s crowd—the part of it that hadn’t thought to flee the scene—and fired again. He heard Sejanus shouting, he heard Highbottom shouting, he heard Dr. Gaul shouting, and the peacekeepers gathered around him like flies, but he listened to none of them. He fired and fired until the magazine was empty and someone tore the weapon out of his hands. 

“Coriolanus,” you whispered. 

Only now did he fully look at you, at the cut in your leg and at your frightened face. He ran over, relieved nobody tried to stop him, and kneeled next to you along with a clearly useless peacekeeper. There was blood on his white shirt, but not on his fingers when he ran them over your thigh gently. It didn’t look like a deep cut, but it was bleeding a lot. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you hear me? Listen to me!” He grabbed your tear-stained face with one hand and turned it so you were looking into his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay. Don’t close your eyes.” 

When you didn’t reply, he shook you a little bit. “You’re alright, okay?”

“Okay, Coryo,” you said meekly. 

He nodded and tore a piece off his shirt to wrap it below your knee. He was angry, unbelievably so, and felt if he didn’t look at your face now and then he might kill all of them: the peacekeepers, his fellow students, Highbottom. He bore a hatred for them all. But you were the priority; you needed saving.

He heard you whimper, using one hand to hold at his shoulder. 

“Why did you…”

He cut you off. “Don’t talk. I’m gonna fix this. You’re okay. Keep your eyes open.” 

You obeyed for as long as you could, for as long as it took for the medics to arrive and carry you away; then, you let yourself drift off. 

***

When you first woke up, you were met with Coriolanus’ perceptive eyes staring back at you.

“Coryo?” you asked. 

“How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

You wanted to answer, but your mouth felt as if it were made of lead. Coriolanus shouted for the nurses to bring you water, yet before he had even turned his head to you again, you were fast asleep. He sighed. 

***

The cut wasn’t deep. 

That’s what the doctors from district eight said, their heads hung low in shame. You were alone upon waking this time, spare for the nurse they had left to take care of you. 

“Coriolanus,” you said. “Where is he?”

“He just left to get some rest, ma’am. We sent him away for an hour fifteen minutes ago. He’d been sitting here all night.” 

“I want to see him.”

“It would be unwise to deny him his sl—”

You stood up and walked out, much to the nurses’ dismay. 

After a ride to the inn in which all of you were staying, you walked into the hallway that you knew belonged to the boys.

You had no idea where Coriolanus’ room was, but thankfully you met Sejanus just as he was leaving his room. 

His eyes lit up as he saw you. “Y/N! You’re okay, thank god. I was so wor—”

“Where is Coryo?” 

He stopped, smile falling the littlest bit. “Last room to the left.” 

You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

You knocked on the door three times and stood silent, waiting. After half a minute, you heard his voice—husky and deep—telling you to come in. 

He was standing by the window, looking out at the desolate district eight. The back of his new shirt was just barely holding out the strain his muscles created as he crossed his arms. 

You cleared your throat. “Coriolanus.” 

Clearly not expecting it to be you, Coriolanus turned on his heel, sporting a smile as he saw your face. You had changed clothes—another tiny skirt and shirt adorned your body. You were walking without difficulty, just like the doctors had foreseen, perhaps even more confidently, with your head high.

He expected you throw yourself into his arms, or maybe pull his hair and kiss him, but he absolutely didn’t expect you to cross your arms over your chest and ask him: 

“Have you lost your mind?” 

“Sorry?” he asked, frowning. 

You took a step back, biting the inside of your cheek. “What have you done? What have you done, Coriolanus?” 

He looked into your eyes in search of disgust, terrified, but found only worry. You were worried for him. Not them, not that man, not your reputation and the rumors—you were worried for him.

His gaze flicked down to your bare legs, no scar left from the incident, and then up to where your stop was squeezing your tits together. Did you come in here to scold or seduce him? He really could not tell. 

He took a step in your direction, reveling in the way your resolve was starting to fade, lower lip trembling. “I was protecting you.”

“You didn’t have to kill him! You didn’t have to kill them all like animals!” 

At this, something switched. He snorted, almost mockingly. Against your will, you felt your panties getting sticky when he walked closer and closer, until he had you backed against the wall. One of his hands rested next to your head while the other he ran over your cheek, stopping to cup your jaw. 

“You don’t think he would have aimed higher if he’d gotten the chance? You don’t think you’d be dead if it weren’t for me?” His hot breath landed on your lips and you swallowed. He dragged his finger along your lower lip and you opened your mouth obediently, making his lips curve into a smile. “Now be a good girl and say thank you.” 

Your legs rubbed against one another subtly. “Thank you, Coryo.” 

“For what?” He slapped the inside of your thigh, making you jolt. 

“For protecting me.” 

His fingers crawled up your thigh to soothe the place he had slapped, rubbing small circles against your sensitive skin. It was embarrassing, how damp your panties were and how you had to press your lips together in order to avoid letting a whimper slip. The poor lighting cast shadows on his face, blonde curls falling just above his eyes.

He was devouring you even though he’d barely touched you. 

“You’re trembling,” he said, eyes twinkling. 

“It’s the cut.”

He tsked, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “Liars don’t get rewards, sweetheart. I thought I’d made that clear.” 

He saw your nipples straining against the thin fabric of your shirt and tightened his jaw. You were here to seduce him, definitely. His desperate little girl. Funny how you had such a dirty mouth until his hands were on you—then, you seemed to go entirely limp and thoughtless. One of his hands snaked to the back of your head, the other stayed touching your thigh—too far away from the place you wanted it to be. 

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, standing on your tiptoes to reach him, but he just pulled you down by your hair. 

“No. Not until you beg me for it.”

You scoffed shakily, reclaiming the very remnants of your dignity. “I won’t beg you for a kiss.” 

He pressed his chest against your sensitive tits, pulling at your hair so your noses were touching. 

“Don’t I deserve it after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do it.”

“But you liked it,” he remarked, sliding his warm hand up your shirt, until he could fiddle with the hem of your panties. His fingers tapped against your clothed pussy only once, making you jolt, before returning to the spot between your hip and leg. “You liked having someone kill for you. Just as you like when I touch you and when I care for your attention.”

“I don’t—” 

“I think you’ve had a little too much being a brat, though. Now it’s my turn.” He slapped your pussy through the fabric and this time, you didn’t manage to hold back a whimper. “Beg. Me.” 

“Please,” you whispered, face hot. 

“What was that?” He pretended not to hear, leaning down even more. You wanted to punch him for his self-importance, for his cruelty, but it was what you craved, too—you’d take everything he gave you, although you’d never say it out loud. 

“Please kiss me.” 

His hands left you entirely before they cupped either of your cheeks. Your heart hammered in excitement watching Coryo’s eyes feeding on the sight of you. He lowered his head slowly, connecting your lips so softly you almost didn’t feel it. You tried to grab his collar and bring him closer, but then he just pulled away and sent you a pointed look which made you retract your hands. 

Then, he kissed you again—this time pressing harder against you, making your eyes flutter shut. His fingers held you softly, as though you could break any moment, but his lips enveloped yours like he had been waiting for the opportunity for years. 

You opened your mouth immediately as he licked at your lower lip and he hummed in appreciation. His fingers tilted your head as he slipped his tongue inside. He was hot against your own tongue, swirling and exploring, not letting you breathe out anything except small, timid whimpers. He smelled like roses, tasted like them too.

Your hands wandered to his broad shoulders, then down his clothed chest, his solid muscles against your fingertips. They flexed underneath your touch, a throaty groan of Coryo’s disappearing in your conjoined mouths. Your mouth watered at merely the thought of seeing them bare, seeing him. 

Coriolanus pulled away only when he had to take a breath—angry at this humane obstacle in his way but soothed upon seeing your swollen, parted lips.

“You’re nothing without me,” he rasped out, trapping your jaw between his thumb and pointer. “Say it back.”

You looked at him through hazy eyes. “I’m nothing without you.”

He pushed you against the wall, lips against your jawline. He sucked a mark into your neck and you mewled out his name, tangling your fingers in his hair. His tongue ran over your throat, then swirled around your collarbones as he pressed wet kisses to them and your stomach. 

Once he reached the waistband of your skirt, he dropped to his knees, looking up. You felt something turn in your stomach; the heat between your legs intensified tenfold.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs languidly. Once gone from your body, he picked them up and dangled them in front of your face. You tried snatching them from him, but he just stuffed them into the pocket of his pants. 

“For later,” he said, smiling. “To remind me what a desperate little girl you are.” 

“I’m not—”

He cut you off by bunching your skirt up around your hips. The cold air made you shiver lightly, but his eyes set on the most intimate part of you like he was about to eat you didn’t really help, either.

Before you could look away from embarrassment, he dragged his nose through your slick folds. You let out a choked gasp as he came in contact with your clit. His hands slid up to your upper thighs, squeezing and prying them apart so you weren’t in the way for him to take his time. And he did take his time—painfully so. 

After almost five minutes of aimless fingers trailing over your cunt but never touching for too long and never on your clit, you let out a loud whine, legs fighting against his grip to close. To no avail, of course—Coryo was much stronger than you and very intent on keeping you in place. 

“Be patient,” he murmured into your heat. His eyes flicked up as a warning and you instantly stilled. 

His tongue finally touched you in the form of small kitten licks on your clit that made your breath ragged and fists tighten. He saw you tightening around nothing, heard you whining pathetically for more and mercifully let his tongue enter your warmth. You clenched around him immediately. 

He pulled his mouth off of you momentarily to look up at your pretty face twisted in clear rapture. 

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” 

When you didn’t answer, he brought down his hand to swat at your clit disapprovingly. You squirmed at the contact, slick practically dripping out of your cunt. His eyes met yours and you quivered, suddenly afraid he’d stop. 

“Yes,” you whimpered. “So much.” 

As a reward, he pushed two fingers into your pussy, watching as you gasped for air, furrowing your brows. He scissored them a little bit, then dipped his thumb into the arousal coating your cunt and let it rub small circles into your already puffy clit.

Your legs felt weak already and he must have sensed this, because he grabbed your thigh and positioned it on his shoulder. This way, he could curl his fingers enough to hit the spot which made you whimper so loudly it was shameful. 

Soon, his thumb was replaced with his mouth that sucked your tiny clit into his mouth.

He heard you moan his name and felt his pants tighten significantly. Part of him hoped everyone could hear the noises you were making, while another part of him felt the urge to murder anyone who dared even overhear these sounds that were innately his possession.

From his position, he could see your tits brushing against your thin shirt and cursed himself for not being in a spot that would allow him to play with them. He’d have to settle for playing with your cute little cunt. 

Your legs started shaking when he added another finger to pump in and out of your dripping hole. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, hips bucking into his face. “Feels so good, Coryo, thank you.” 

A guttural moan of his vibrated through your body and you cried out his name. A warm coil began tightening in your lower stomach. It was clear you were close—from the way your whimpers had grown unabashed and squeaky, the way you clenched around his long fingers, the way your hips stuttered against his tongue. 

“Oh my god, Coryo, I’m so close— Can I come?” 

So polite, he thought. Shame you only acted like this when his tongue was flicking at your clit. 

His eyes glimmered as he looked up at you. “Only if you ask nicely.”

“Please, please, let me come, please, Coryo.” You let out a broken moan as his teeth grazed your clit. “Please.” 

Your legs spasmed around his head as you felt it close, so close, and your eyes fell shut in pleasure.

But then it was ripped from you, this bliss, as Coriolanus pulled out his fingers and retracted his tongue, leaving you empty and stunned. You stared at him, lips parted, and at the self-satisfied smile adorning his features. 

“What, you really thought I’d let you come when you’ve been acting like a brat?” He licked his fingers and something throbbed between your legs. “Stupid girl.” 

He stood up, turning his back on you. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was silently counting the seconds it took for you to protest against the treatment. Finally, you retrieved your consciousness in full and pushed yourself off the wall. 

“Wait, Coryo,” you pleaded, grabbing his arm. “Please. I’m sorry.”

He turned, raising his brows. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a good girl now, I promise.” Your lower lip quivered; he saw the promise of tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m gonna make it up to you, okay?”

At this, you sank to your knees—a sight which made his adam’s apple bob. But he was getting impatient; his cock was aching painfully and when you looked at him with eyes widened and teary like this, he was willing to give you anything in the world. 

“Get up,” he demanded. 

You did as told, thighs trembling slightly, and his hands cupped your cheeks. Coriolanus led you to the bed in the middle of the room, hovering above you with his forearms on either side of your face. His hardened cock rubbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his pants. He laid it against your plush thigh for relief, but all he got was a slutty mewl from you and more precum leaking from his tip. 

“Sejanus is next door, you know. You don’t mind?”

“No.” You shook your head eagerly. “I don’t care. Just want your cock.”

The side of his mouth lifted as his hands slipped under your shirt. You gasped as his fingers found your nipples and pinched them, tantalizing your poor clit to start throbbing harder. He pulled the skimpy shirt over your head and threw it away somewhere, letting out an audible groan at the sight of you. Next to go was your skirt. 

He stayed staring at you for some time before he suddenly landed a slap to your cunt, making you jolt with a whimper. Then, he leaned to press open mouthed kisses against your throat, sucking the skin that covered your pulse into his mouth. 

His lips grazed your jaw. “You want him to hear, then? Is that it?”

“N-no,” you whispered shakily, feeling the tips of his fingers teasing your perky nipples. “No, Coryo, just want you.” 

“Say it again.” 

“I want you, Coryo, only you. I’m yours.” 

Coriolanus let your fingers slip under his shirt, letting out a shaky breath as you traced his abdominal muscles. He helped you pull it over his head, then he pulled down his pants and briefs as well. You watched hazily at his cock free from its restraints, certain if he’d tease you anymore you would start drooling for real. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t in the mood for teasing—he slapped his dick against your clit once, twice, watching you squirm, then positioned himself at your entrance.

Your foreheads touched as he pushed inside agonizingly slowly.

“I’m yours, too,” he whispered against your mouth. 

He was decently thick and longer than average—even lying still in your cunt, he reached places your fingers couldn’t dream of. Your eyes had a hard time staying open in facing the fullness which came with having him inside, but he was having none of it. 

“Look at me when I fuck you,” he said.

“But you’re not even fucking me.” 

You felt his cock pulse inside you before his hands roughly grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your chest. This newfound angle was overwhelming in itself—when he additionally began thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt, you saw stars. You let out small noises, but he paid them no mind, leaning forward to have a good look at your face.

“Who knew the academy’s best student was such a fucking slut?” he tilted his head, ignoring your nails clawing at his biceps. “Guess words aren’t enough, hmm? I need to fuck that arrogance out of my sweet girl?” 

You didn’t reply; he didn’t expect you to. His cock found that spot that made your toes curl faster than you could have expected. When he hit it for the first time, you let out a whimper close to a shriek in volume. Instead of slowing down, he just went harder, his hips slapping against yours in the otherwise silent room. He thought Sejanus probably was able to hear it all. 

It was easy for him to slip his thumb between your parted lips; even easier to coax you with a gentle slap to your slack jaw to suck on it. Your mouth wrapped around it and he groaned, pushing your thighs further against your tits. He saw your eyes glossing over, felt your poorly suppressed moans against his finger.

And god, you were so compliant to his touch, so perfect. 

“Spread your legs,” Coryo said, moving his hands away.

You obeyed to your best ability, practically letting your thighs fall limply at your sides. He spread them further and sank deep into your dripping pussy. Your slick had made a mess of the sheets below, creating a small puddle in the white material.

His fingers grabbed both of your wrists and placed them on your lower stomach. One of his hands kept them in place while the other played with your sensitive nipples, twisting them until a couple tears escaped your eyes. 

“Don’t move your hands.” 

When you nodded weakly, both his hands grabbed your waist, guiding you back and forth to meet his relentless thrusts. He could see the vague outline of his cock in your stomach, your tits bouncing deliciously before him with each abusing rut into your cunt. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled, lightly tapping at your clit. 

Your walls sucked him in like it was all you were made for, fluttering around his cock and leaving a creamy ring at the base of it.  He wanted to fill you up—not only with his cock, but with his cum, wanted to watch it leak out onto this bed, wanted to hear you beg him to stop. Him, only him. He wanted you forever. 

Coryo leaned down to connect his lips to yours, teeth napping at your lower lip. You were whimpering, mewling his name, and he tightened his grip on your waist. He pushed you further down on his cock, again and again. 

“How does being the first lady of Panem sound, huh?” 

You just nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks in reaction to his cock bullying the gummy spot in your cunt.

“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, rubbing tight circles into your clit. “I’d give you everything you want. You hear me, sweetheart? Everything.” 

His hips rutted into you so roughly your vision was hazy, but clear enough to grab at his sturdy shoulders. You had disobeyed what he said, but it seemed he was unaware, chasing his own high.

His cock was thrusting into the right spot repeatedly, fingers maneuvering your clit so that you almost screamed, slick practically gushing out of your hole.  

“Fuck,” you whined out, feeling your pussy pulsating. “Coryo, I’m—”

“Yeah, I know. Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You let go and so did he—seed spilling into your cunt as you clenched around him. You sobbed his name and in an attempt to soothe you, he planted kisses along your collarbones. He let you ride out your orgasm against his hand before he pulled out.

Vaguely, you could see his cum spilling out of you and onto the sheets. 

Before you could even make an attempt at calming down your heart rate, he stuck two of his fingers into you again. 

“Too much,” you whimpered, but he paid you no mind, stuffing his cum back into your swollen cunt. Too tired to move, you let him do it, only mewling his name softly from time to time.

Once he was done, he licked his fingers clean and smiled alluringly. You scooted closer to kiss him—he tasted of you and him combined. His hands cupped your face as you both lay down, facing one another. 

“You’re nothing without me, either,” you said, running your finger down his exposed chest. “Mr. President.”

His grin widened. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

TAGLIST: @peterpan-neverfails @urfavevirgoo @sayyysss @hwajin @hoshiseon @atrwriting

also big thank you to kathy, kiza and lex for being my enablers! ilyy

[annabelle--cane]

so um. I think I accidentally figured out who my hater anon is. saw a post by happenstance that pinged my "hang on this sounds familiar" alarm, searched a keyword on their blog, and found a couple of posts with almost exactly the same wording and overall syntax as the anons I've gotten, made on the same days I received them. not sure what to do about this one, I don't think that would be enough evidence for a proper harassment report even if staff weren't running on a skeleton crew, and I am not too keen on the ethics of publicizing their url, but. uhhh. I might? if they don't back off?

so, as a final peace offering, an open letter to my weird hater anon:

from what I can tell, your problem is not actually with me, it is with how tma is written, and I just happen to like and frequently talk about the parts you hate the most. we have a fundamental disagreement about a work of art that we're both invested in, but That's Fine, we can and should just block each other. heck, I think I've had your main blocked for like two years maybe, and hey presto you stopped passively annoying me with your posts until you started regularly directly harassing me in my inbox and serially block evading.

you seem to be motivated, at least in part, by a desire for people to treat addicts with more sympathy. that's great! love that for you. I also wish people would treat addicts with more sympathy, this is a matter on which we can both agree. the problem is, you are directing all of that desire for sympathy towards a fictional character who does not exist and cannot ever feel pain or suffering while continually insulting and belittling me, a real life human addict who can feel pain and suffering, whenever I talk about the themes of addiction I enjoy and relate to as they are presented in that fictional character. you clearly receive my analysis of this piece of fiction as demonizing of addiction and condoning violence against addicts, and I as the person who is me shrimply know that is not what I have ever said nor thought, because, and I really cannot stress this enough, I am an addict, and have been since I was fourteen of god's own years old. I do not believe that I, or anyone like me, should be "put down like a dog" for having disordered patterns of substance use, and I find it frankly offensive that you would repeatedly accuse me of advocating for that both in my inbox and in a series of vagues on your main.

I am usually much more didactic and direct in anything I say about real life human non-allegorical substance addiction, but, to be as fair as is possible, you might have missed most of what I've posted on that topic in the recent past, as I talk about it considerably less than I did 2-3 years ago. this is because when I talk directly about it without the oven mitts of metaphor, people are usually very quick to inform me that they think I'm not human and should be put down like a dog. believe it or not, I don't really enjoy this. even when it's coming from easily blockable faceless anons, there was really only so much of that I was willing to voluntarily subject myself to before deciding to be a bit more judicious about when and where I talk about addiction in public online spaces.

I tell you the above for two reasons.

1. to let you know that I'm intimately familiar with the kind of dehumanization you keep accusing me of and appear to believe that only you can truly understand. for realsies, I am sorry that anyone has ever made you feel like that, that feeling is the kind of awful and insidious that's hard to ever fully shake, and I'm doubly sorry that you feel like no one else gets it and the world is uncompassionate to your experience. I profoundly get it, if I went into any of my offline history with addiction in my mid teens then this would become unpostably upsetting, and I know that kind of thing makes one liable to be prickly and lash out.

2. to explain as clearly as I can that your harassment does not come in isolation, and why I take such an issue with it. I can't make bland-ass PSAs about treating substance users like human beings without people coming into my inbox with stories of abuse and explanations of why this makes it okay for them to hope all addicts die alone and in pain, I can't make casual personal posts about addiction without people coming into my inbox with graphic accounts of loved ones' overdoses and demands to know why I'm encouraging substance abuse, and now, because of you, I can't even talk about. fucking. jon podcastman's metaphorical addiction-like character arc about peeping the horrors and feeling like the torture sphere had a sort of "je ne sais quoi" without risk. it is very hard to exist as an addict on tumblr dot edu, and you are singlehandedly making my one relatively low-stakes outlet for talking about it like 5x more inhospitable. you are one arm of the great machine making this site hostile to me and people like me.

so, like, maybe you still hate my fiction podcast analysis posts and the ideology you read them as conveying, that's your right, so block me, add my url to your content filtering, and move on. you cannot be honest with me and tell me again that you think I believe addicts should be summarily executed because of, and I say once more, my fiction podcast analysis posts, but the great news is that there is no malevolent entity out there forcing you to tell me that over and over again. you can just hit da bricks and Stop.

after many attempts at blocking you that you have repeatedly bypassed, I am explicitly laying down the final boundary that I do not want you ever interacting with me again.

you are thirty-two of god's own years old. give it a rest.

[nsfwruru]

pussydrunk manon from katseye x reader??

idol!manon x surfer!reader

oh my days brother, just think about how much of a fiend she is when it comes to surfer!reader she met while filming the music video for “debut” in Columbia. like she leaves abruptly during her part of the MV, just so she can be between your legs. just absolutely devoting her time to you— oh and don’t you worry that won’t be the last time!

cw: obvious smut (r!receiving, cunnilingus, semi!public sex, foul mouth reader, fingering), porn with some plot, fem!reader, reader is somewhat a tan queen, reader is a Spanish speaker, not proofread

There was just something about you to Manon, it wasn’t anything extraordinary, you just happen to catch her eyes constantly, maybe it was the Columbia air, or something about you just looked so good. Even when her other members tried to snap her attention off of the beach where you stood, zipping up your wetsuit ready for another casual surf on the beach, Manon was unable to pull her gaze away.

It had been about maybe, 6 even 7 reshoots of one specific part, give or take, where she constantly messed up her part of the choreography, because she was still hung up on you. At every moment she got, she trailed your body as you came out of the sea soaking wet, your hair damp, and your skin glistening, it made her miss every single beat. Truly, it wasn’t until her leader, Sophia, had quite literally knocked her to her senses, for her to actually get her part right. It was so bad to the point Sophia had to pry Manon away from the camera’s to scold her, telling her that if she didn’t get her act up, that someone would have to eventually cut her out of the MV.

“Come on’ Manon. We are all trying here, so whatever is going on with you and the beach you keep looking at— just get it together alright? You know what, just take 5’ alright, get your thoughts together, and then we’ll call you over okay?” Sophia spoke sullenly, it was clear to Manon that her poor leader was exhausted, and it made her conclude that there was only one way to solve this issue! If she were to be able to talk to that person who’s been catching her attention for hours at this point, maybe she’ll forget about the whole ordeal and focus.

Biting the bullet, and reassuring herself that she would miss all the shots she doesn’t take, she scurried her way over towards the beach. Searching around to see your figure whom was walking out of the communal showers after getting out of your wetsuit, and your regular dry clothes, it was apparent you were about to leave. Manon, who had no intention of letting such a bronze beauty go, pounced over to you, her face lighting up when she inched ever so closely.

“Ah wait— you! You there!” She called out, pointing her hands over to you as she ran closer, of course, since you really just came here to surf, you where taken aback by such a beautiful woman strutting her way over to your vicinity. “Ay— I mean… Tú ahí! Ven aquí!” The woman spoke in her very clearly broken Spanish.

Pointing at yourself, you looked around the area to see if she was referring to anyone else, but it was mostly likely directed at you as it seemed like she was running towards you. “Ah, me? You…you’re talking to me?” Manon nodded at your inquiry when she finally caught up to you, with your surfboard still gripped in one hand, and your other equipment in one hand, you tried your best to wave back at her.

She was out of breath, like she ran a marathon, Manon let out a long winded sigh, before fixing herself up. “Oh you— you speak English!”

“Well yes, but may I ask why you’re calling for me? Did I forget something on the beach, mi meil?”

Manon, who was now dancing circles in her head, regrading her composure after being completely whipped for you, not wanting anything more, (not to be crude or anything) but to be between your legs right now. She doesn’t waste anytime, knowing that sooner or later she’d have to back on set filming the music video that quite frankly, she didn’t care about right now.

“No it’s uh, it’s not that. You’re just so stunning I couldn’t get my eyes off you for awhile now and…”

Abruptly cutting her off on that comment with a light chuckle, finding it quite humorous that’s all she had to say, but quite in awe at her lethal face card, you too, unknowingly didn’t want her to leave your sights so soon. “Well thank you so much pretty girl, I could say the some about you! So, you, your single?”

“Yea!— I mean, yes I am, why may you ask?”

“You look, interested in me? Ah I mean— sorry that may be wrong, but people here are very straightforward, so I assumed you may had intend the same.” You admitted, not wanting to come off as snarky or insensitive, but truly meaning no harm to your words. Luckily for you, Manon was an expert at picking up social cues, and somewhat understood what you were putting down.

“No your completely right, your gorgeous, I wanted to just get your number so like, I could have some way of contacting you. You catch my drift?”

See that’s how it started, it was innocent, and you hadn’t minded spending your time with a beautiful woman for a few days in a row because she could only stay in Columbia for so long. Everything was slow, until it wasn’t, from what began as a friendship turned out to be nothing but a way to relieve her stress after another day of shooting.

Manon was so sweet in the beginning, offering to bring you over to the set while she was filming, showing you the inside and outs of the music industry. Even letting you be a backgrounder for a main shot which included her and her other 5 members, always making it apparent that she wanted to be near you every waking moment. Which was both endearing and suspicious as you’ve only met her for maybe 5 days at maximum.

It was all friendly really until you offered to stay with her alone at the backstage during her one off break, where things truly took a turn. She had finished a shoot and wanted to have another lighthearted conversation with you, without all her nosy members butting in, which had lead you to be in the makeup room that was all the way in the back of the building the company she worked for rented.

Manon, who knew her time was limited with you, had grew tired of waiting for you to make the next move again, and wanted to hurry this up so she could regain into her focus once more. As you spoke about your tales at sea, and dangerous waves you conquered by sheer luck, you dismissed the way her hands slithered around your inner thigh.

You tried to wave it off like it was just your hormones talking, but sadly you were unable to deny the heaving in your chest as she brought her face closer towards yours. It wasn’t long until you were sitting on one of the vanity desk, pinning up against a mirror and Manon, kissing her lips hungrily like it was the first meal you’ve had in days. Both of your hungers consumed each other, as suddenly you allowed entrance of her tongue into your mouth, dancing with hers as fisted a bundle of her shirt.

She needed to feel every inch of you so badly, she wasn’t even trying to pry off your jeans as this point, she just swiftly slid her fingers to unbutton and unzip as best she can before gliding her fingers into your undergarments. She rubbed your bud for a bid, creating a decent amount of slick from her fingers. “Hah, you’re a lot more easy than I imagined you’d be.” Manon giggled to herself before prepping you for her fingers, slowly inserting two, in a very agonizing pace, almost as if she was teasing you.

Gripping onto her shoulders in a mix of discomfort and anticipation, she could’ve swore you were digging so far deep into her skin to either leave cute or dents from where you held yourself. She found the way you winced your eyes in pain almost like a spectacle to her, finding it more amusing as she slowly, but surely made her way into fucking both her index and middle finger into you.

The sounds of your moaning and squelching of her fingers gliding in and out of you so easy was music to her ears, she wanted to hear more, she needed to feel more. She quickened her pace at unbelievable speeds, being a dancer and singer really did something to her stamina and speed as she didn’t slow down one bit. Fucking her fingers into your delicious tightness, she didn’t know where to focus, whether it be the way your hips buckled and grinded to the rhythm of her fingers, or how your body arched more and more when you came undone. (Maybe even when your body writhed whenever you’d suck her fingers up so quickly.)

It was all too much, it would be an understatement if you said it was just good, “Yeah good girl baby, you can come.” She would whisper foul words just like that as she’d let you unravel yourself all over her digits, fucking you through your high continuously as she wanted to see how tour faced looked again while she fingered you towards your high.

But knowing her, that wasn’t enough, she needed more, to taste how delectable you were. Manon, who had the stamina of course, of a dancer, didn’t even let you calm down from your high as she slid her fingers out of you with a sharp pop, reaching over to her fingers seeing the mess you made all over her.

Putting her fingers into your mouth to muffle your quiet mewls, she brought her face down at your bud, and gave it gentle kitten licks. Loving the taste of you as you just finished, making it all the easier to taste you, as your hips buckled by the sensation of pain from the previous high, you tried connecting your thighs together to stop her from licking. To no avail as she dug her nails into your plush thighs and spreader you open once more.

It took her no time to eat you out as your gripped onto the edge of the vanity to form some sort of stability between the both of you. Grabbing her knotless boho braids, trying to pry her off of you gently, but not enough to mess up her newly done hair, knowing you’d be told off by her from how long she spent getting it done. You pleaded with her to stop as you felt tingly and it hurt a lot, and that you were sore or whatever.

“Wait— hah— Manon! Stop, I can’t—“

She had no regard for your soft feelings, her mind was absolutely drunk on the taste of your pussy, she needed every drop you could give her, and wasn’t leaving until she got what she wanted. Her tongue exploring the deeper into you, feeling like you were about to burst as she had no indication of stopping. She even went as far as to reach her hands out and cover your mouth with her index and middle finger, and rub your bud once more, letting you come undone quicker.

To her surprise it actually worked, she watched as your face twisted from sheer discomfort to immense euphoria, feeling like you where on cloud 9. The way her tongue swirled all around as she rubbed her thumb across your lower region, it was once again, all too much. Causing you to arch your back and release another wave of pleasure, this time atop her tongue.

She couldn’t believe the sight that was in front of her right now, pulling away from your sweet cum dripping cunt, she didn’t want to leave so soon. She wanted so much more, but noticing how the time flew by so quickly, she probably had maybe 2 minutes before Sophia, or maybe even Megan would burst inside and interrupt her. Finally deciding to pack it up as she left you a mess on the desk, picturing seeing you in different places with the same expression, she sighed as she spoke.

“Shit girl, you taste fucking good, I’ll meet you at your place after shooting. I can’t get enough of that.”

You nodded breathlessly at her comment before trying your best to put everything back onto your body, your legs in a complete state of soreness, comparably worse to when you first started surfing. She was amazing at what she did, and god did you both enjoy every single moment you got together before she had to go back to Korea.

god manon twin, I’m sorry if you ever have the indecency to ever see this😪 this was my most shameless moment I hope you forgive me anyways lol… i love tan!reader 😫😫

[arathejedi394]

that meme of bucky with the twitter post saying "the winter soldier having flashbacks of gay sex and not knowing why"

“I think I’m gay,” Bucky announces abruptly.

Sam chokes on his beer. Bucky claps him on the back, looking pensively into the dark water. Sam gets a breath, then clears his throat several times before licking his lips.

“What makes you say that?” he asks casually.

“I remember having gay sex,” Bucky answers ponderously. “A lot.”

"A lot?" Sam repeats, now bewildered.

Bucky just nods slowly, his gaze distant. Sam blinks several times, wondering what the hell he's imagining.

“With who?” he demands, looking at him with eyebrows high on his forehead.

Bucky just frowns. “I don’t know. A couple of guys. A big one and a little one.”

Sam looks out at the water, too, mouthing under his breath about how fucking stupid this man can get. Then takes Bucky’s cigarette and drags on it. Bucky snatches it back.

“You’re not a super soldier,” he snaps. “No smoking, kid.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies. “I mean, about – About not remembering… Hm… Oof. That’s, uh, that’s rough, buddy.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder with a grimace for their friend, the one who was little but now is big and is now retired so he can paint large blue watercolors of some vague masculine figure over and over again, that friend. He faces the water again and blows out his breath. Idiots. Jesus Christ man.

Bucky sighs, wistful, then drags on the cigarette himself. The boat rocks behind them.

“Did I hear you say you remember having gay sex?” Steve calls from behind them.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You know anything about that?”

Sam looks at Steve, raising his eyebrows. Steve’s lower lip wobbles for a second and then he just smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” he then says quietly.

Bucky nods, turning back. Sam drops his jaw at Steve, who just lowers his gaze and sits down on a bench, hands in his lap and head down. Like a kicked puppy. Sam blusters, half gesturing between the two of them, but Steve shoots him a glare and Bucky doesn't notice. Sam looks between the two of them for over a minute, just watching these two idiots standing five feet apart because they’re not gay.

“Okay,” Sam declares, “that’s it! I’ve had it up to HERE with the homoerotic tension on this boat!”

Bucky looks up, frowning. Steve jerks his head up, too, his eyes wide. Sam points with both hands at Steve, but looks at Bucky.

“He knows somethin’ about you being gay for sure!” he snaps. “Frankly, I think he knows more about it than you do! Double frankly! I know that for a mothafuckin' fact!”

Bucky opens his mouth, looking bewildered, then glances between Steve and Sam. “Huh?”

Sam slaps himself in the face with the hand not holding his beer. Bucky frowns at Steve. Steve blushes and looks towards the stern of the boat. Bucky suddenly gasps, jerking a hand up to point.

“I fucked you!” he shouts.

Steve blushes harder, bright red behind his beard, as he look down into his lap, then he nods, seeming speechless.

Sam smacks himself on the forehead again, making a face at their stupidity. Then Bucky shoves his cigarette back into his hand, and he storms right up to Steve and hauls him off the bench by the back of his shirt. Steve squeaks adorably for a man of his large size, but Bucky starts dragging him off the boat.

“Okay?” Sam calls after them as Steve stumbles to keep up with Bucky. “Bye, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Steve says.

“I’m fucking your face in that alley over there, sweetheart,” Bucky announces. "Then I'm coming all over your beard."

“I did not need to hear that!” Sam shouts back. “Didn’t need to hear that! I expect to be both of y’all’s best man at your wedding! And the officiant! And I’mma give both of y’all away, too!” He turns, then pivots, jabbing his finger in their direction. “And it better be a destination wedding, gay ass dumbasses! I wanna go to Bali!”

Steve waves his middle finger behind him as he skips, eagerly, along behind Bucky down the pier. Sam shakes his head, turns, and puffs on the cigarette again.

“Gay ass dumbasses,” he mutters, “one looks over, the other’s already looking away. My ass.”

[honeyscara]

❝ just kiss me ❞ – Yamaguchi. T

-haikyuu

Synopsis: you've liked him for a while but Yamaguchi seems to think you like Tsukishima. This changes one night when you decide to prove him wrong.

C/w: fem! reader x timeskip! yamaguchi, blowjob, yams being a sub leaning switch, markings, fingering, protected sex, mentions of aftercare,yams being a gentleman, reader being dom(?), tsukishima being tsukishima, 18+ MDNI

~4.2k words

Yamaguchi’s eyes drank in the sight of you at the party, his fingers tightening slightly around the cup in his hands. You looked stunning—your short black dress hugged every inch of your curves, the low V-neckline teasing just enough to make his throat dry. Your hair was loose, framing your face in a way that made his chest ache.

You had always been on the curvier side, something most guys wouldn’t typically go for. But Yamaguchi? He fucking loved it. He always had—since middle school, when his crush on you started and never really faded. But he had been too shy, too scared to ruin your friendship, especially when he convinced himself you had feelings for Tsukishima instead.

And yet, when you turned toward him with that bright smile, your eyes full of warmth, all the thoughts in his head blurred.

“Yams, lighten up and come dance with me and Tsukki,” you urged, tugging at his arm playfully.

He forced a small smile but shook his head. “It’s okay. You have fun.”

Your smile faltered for a second before you let out a small huff. “You better join us in a few minutes.” Then, with one last tug at his sleeve, you turned and walked toward Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi watched as Tsukishima barely hesitated before resting his hands on your waist, pulling you close as the music shifted into a slow, intimate song. His stomach twisted at the sight. It hurt. He hated feeling this way, hated that he was jealous of his best friend, but how could he not be? Tsukishima was taller, cooler, and always knew what to say. Who wouldn’t like him?

Trying to push the feeling down, Yamaguchi swallowed a deep sip of his drink and looked away.

What he didn’t notice, however, was the way your smile had disappeared.

You were upset.

Yamaguchi was so damn convinced you liked Tsukishima, but he was completely wrong. You had never seen Tsukishima that way—he was like a brother, nothing more. The one you had always liked? The one you’d been crushing on since middle school?

It was Yamaguchi Tadashi.

And Tsukishima, being the ever-observant asshole that he was, had known it all along. He had spent years watching you and Yamaguchi dance around your feelings, and frankly, he was fucking sick of it.

So, while swaying slightly with you on the dance floor, he leaned down and muttered, “Why don’t you go talk to him? You’re both miserable right now.”

You sighed. “Tsukki, he’s been so distant. I feel like… I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like me that way.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “He doesn’t?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Let’s test that, then.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Head back with Yams,” he suggested, glancing toward where Yamaguchi sat, gloomily staring at his drink.

“What? And what about you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving you off. “I’ll come back later.” Then, after a pause, he added, “But in the meantime… make a fucking move, since he won’t.”

Your face heated instantly. “Tsukki—”

“There are condoms in the second drawer in the living room, by the way,” he added with a smirk.

You gaped at him in horror. “Why the fuck do you even have them there?”

“I might’ve fucked around. And I’m seeing someone,” he said, completely unbothered.

“YOU WHAT?! WHEN? WHO?” You fired off question after question, scandalized.

Tsukishima only chuckled. “Save the interrogation for later. Right now, your priority is Yamaguchi.” He nudged you in Yamaguchi’s direction. “Go.”

You hesitated for only a moment before exhaling sharply and nodding.

“Fine.”

“Good.” Tsukishima’s smirk widened as he watched you take a step forward. “Now go get your man.”

You shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, you took a deep breath, turned on your heel, and made your way toward Yamaguchi determined to finally do something about this damn tension between you two. Yamaguchi barely had time to react when you slid into the seat beside him.

"Come back with me," you said, your tone light but firm.

Yamaguchi blinked. "What? But—"

"Tsukki said he’ll come back later with the other guys from the club," you cut in smoothly. "So it’s just us for now. Come on, I don’t wanna head back alone."

He hesitated, eyes flickering to where Tsukishima was still lounging by the bar, watching the two of you with an all-too-knowing smirk.

“…Are you sure?”

"Yams." You gave him a look. "Yes, I’m sure. Now, are you coming or not?"

With a sigh and a defeated chuckle, Yamaguchi downed the rest of his drink and stood. "Fine, fine. Let’s go."

The drive was quiet.

You stared out of the window as Yamaguchi focused on the road, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested near the gear shift. The hum of the engine filled the silence between you, but your mind was too full to enjoy the peace.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that you finally turned to face him.

"Hey, Yams," you started, voice softer now.

"Yeah?"

"Do you… like anyone?"

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel just slightly before he let out a breathy laugh. "Nah. I don’t really have time for that right now. I just wanna focus on my studies."

Your heart sank.

"Oh," was all you managed to say, trying to ignore the sudden weight in your chest.

Still, you forced yourself to push forward, your next question lingering on the tip of your tongue.You took a slow breath, gathering the courage to ask the question weighing on your mind.

"Then… what would you do if I liked someone? And… I started dating them?"

Silence.

Yamaguchi’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. His stomach twisted painfully, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. That was the one question the one fucking question he never wanted to hear from you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing a weak chuckle. "What sort of question is that?" He flashed you a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Of course, I’d be happy for you."

It felt like something inside him shattered.

And from the way your shoulders tensed, he wasn’t the only one dying inside.

"Idiot," you mumbled under your breath, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Then, without another word, you turned away, resting your head against the window as the cool night breeze hit your face. Your expression was unreadable, but there was a sadness in your eyes that made Yamaguchi’s chest ache.

Why were you acting like this?

His eyes flickered to your reflection in the glass, watching the way your fingers clenched slightly against your lap. You looked… upset. But why? Did his answer disappoint you? He wanted to ask wanted to understand but the words died in his throat.The rest of the drive was painfully silent.

By the time the two of you arrived at your shared dorm, Yamaguchi let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stepped inside.

"Well," he started, voice a little awkward as he turned to you. "You should get some rest. Sleep well and—"

Before he could finish, you suddenly grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, pinning him in place.

Yamaguchi barely had time to react, his breath catching in his throat as your hands pressed firmly against his chest. Your expression was filled with frustration—your eyes burning with something he couldn’t quite place.

His heart pounded in his ears."...W-What—?"

Your hands tightened against Yamaguchi’s chest as you stared at him, frustration burning in your eyes.

"Why?" you demanded, voice sharp. "Why are you so unaffected? Why don’t you care if I date someone?"

Yamaguchi swallowed hard, his brain scrambling for an answer, for anything that wouldn’t betray how wrecked he truly felt. But in his panic, he let something slip.

"Of course, I would be happy for you and Tsukki," he said, forcing a small, strained laugh.

Your entire body stiffened.

"Tsukki?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. But it wasn’t soft—it was dangerous, laced with disbelief and rising anger. "You really fucking think I like him?"

Yamaguchi's breath hitched as you leaned in closer, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"You fucking idiot," you hissed, your voice trembling slightly, but not with hesitation. With frustration. With emotion. "I like you. I fucking like you, Tadashi. And only you."

Everything you had bottled up for so long—every glance, every touch, every moment you held back came pouring out.

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in shock. "R-Really?" he stammered, his voice so small, so unsure, as if he still couldn’t believe it.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips against his, kissing him with a hunger that had been buried for far too long. You kissed him like you had been dying to—like this was your only chance, like you had been waiting years for this moment.

And Yamaguchi?

The second his mind caught up, he kissed you back just as hard, just as desperate—his hands finally finding their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.He had waited for this, too.

You finally pulled back, breathless, your heart pounding so hard you swore Yamaguchi could hear it. His face was completely red, flushed from his cheeks down to his neck. But then again, yours probably was too.

His lips were slightly parted, still wet from your kiss, and his wide, hazy brown eyes stared at you like you had just turned his entire world upside down.

You swallowed, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you tried to steady yourself.

Then, without thinking, you spoke.

"Tadashi…" Your voice was lower now, almost a whisper. "I want you."

Yamaguchi stiffened under your touch, his breath hitching. His hands, still resting on your waist tensed slightly, his fingers digging in just a little.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with both hesitation and something deeper.

You nodded, breathless. "For fuck’s sake, Tadashi, just kiss me."

His eyes darkened instantly, fingers gripping your waist tighter before his lips crashed against yours. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure, unfiltered hunger. His lips moved against yours with desperation, his tongue sliding past your parted lips as he deepened the kiss. He tasted the wine lingering on your tongue fucking delicious.

Yamaguchi’s hands slid down your thighs before gripping them firmly, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your fingers burying themselves in his soft, greyish-green locks, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. He carried you to the couch, lips never once leaving yours, only breaking apart long enough to lay you down. His breath was heavy, chest rising and falling as he took in the sight of you beneath him—flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, lips swollen from his kisses.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, swallowing hard as he unbundled his belt, tossing it away.

"Tadashi let me" you said as your hands reached out to his pants, pulling them down. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed against his clothed erection. "Shit," he moaned, the sound barely above a whisper, but filled with so much want. His hands fisted at his sides, trying to hold himself together, but you had him unraveling too easily.

"You look so fucking cute" you say as you pressed against his rock hard erection, enciting a whimper from him. so fucking cute.

Your fingertips tugged at the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down to free his erection completely. As your hand wrapped around his member, he shuddered under your touch, groaning when you licked his tip that was leaking precum.

"So big" you commented as you gave his tip kitten links. His hands tangled in your hair as he tried to maintain a steady breath. Yamaguchi was already dizzy with it, hands gripping the couch for some sort of stability.

"Please…" he groaned, voice strained, body taut with tension. "I-I can’t…" he begged as you took your time teasing his cock, enjoying his pleas.

"so needy,why didn't you confess sooner yams?" you replied before taking his member in. He hissed, pushing into your warm, wet mouth. Yamaguchi bucked his hips forward as if he were begging you to go faster, to suck him harder, but you wanted to enjoy each little moment together.

You gagged a bit, tears forming in the corner of you eyes as you bobbed your head up and down his length. He drank in the sight of you, biting his lips to muffle a moan. God you looked so fucking gorgeous with your messy hair and tears at the corner of your eyes as you sucked on him.

His head tilted back, a shuddered breath leaving his lips. "Fuck, Y/N…"

He was close. "can i?" he let out and you nodded, knowing what was about to happen next. Your mouth remained open as he pumped gently into your mouth, eyes shut tightly. A shaky sigh left his lips before he pulled out, cum spilling onto your face and lips.

"Oh god," Yamaguchi whispered as he collapsed on top of you, arms wrapping around you protectively. "I love you so much.…" You smiled softly at him but Yamaguchi sat up straight, his arms pined your wrists to the edge of the couch.

"Let me make it up to you now," he murmured, his voice lower, rougher—filled with something dark and unshaken. A shiver ran down your spine. This was new. A different side of Yamaguchi, one you hadn’t seen before, and god, it was intoxicating.

He didn’t give you a second to process it before his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His hands roamed your body with purpose, mapping out every curve, every inch of you, as if he had been dying to do this for years.

You let out a shaky moan as he sucked on the soft skin near your neck. You wanted him so badly, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. The way his lips moved against your flesh sent shivers down your spine. His hands gripped the straps of your dress pulling them down till your chest exposing the soft flesh. You shivered when the cold wind hit your bare skin.

"f-feels good-" you breathed out as he squeezed your pert nipples between his thumb and index finger while sucking on your collarbone.

"You're so fucking pretty" he whispered pulling away to discard his shirt while you unzipped your dress completely. You gasped as his tongue trailed over your breasts.

"y-yams.." you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist as he sucked on your mounds. A yelp left hour lips as he sucked down a little too harshly. "be gentle"

"I'm sorry darling" Yamaguchi said softly, pulling away just a little to make sure you were okay before peppering kisses lower to your stomach. Your breath hitched as he trailed his fingers against your inner thigh. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes as he continued kissing lower, savoring each and every moment.

Your hips bucked forward as he slipped his fingers in your panties and pulled them down. The cool air brushed across your exposed clit making you squirm. Yamaguchi licked his lips as he stared at you hungrily, his hand tracing circles on your inner thigh.

"God, you're so beautiful" he rasped, sliding his index finger into you, causing you to gasp louder than before.

"fuck atleast warm me" you whimpered, as he pumped his digits in a slow rhythm.

"ah–sorry" he said and gave small pecks on your face. You hummed as you felt his thumb swirling around the sensitive bud.

Your head fell back against the hand rest of the couch, grasping onto the cushions tightly. "faster please" you whined quietly and Yamaguchi nodded before sliding another finger. It was rough, but he still managed to be gentle. You felt the familiar pressure building in your belly and arched your back as he pushed two fingers inside of you. Just as you were about to reach the climax of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out, licking them. "So sweet"

"Yams, what the hell—" you whined, frustration thick in your voice, and that only seemed to amuse him.

He chuckled, low and teasing, his fingers tracing along your skin. "I thought you’d want this more," he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence, his movements deliberate.Your breath hitched as he positioned himself at your entrance, the weight of the moment settling in.

"Wait—Tsukki said the condoms are in the second drawer," you stammered out, your voice shaky, mind fogged with anticipation.

Yamaguchi scoffed, running a hand through his messy green locks. That bastard. Of course, Tsukishima had planned this.

Muttering something under his breath, he reached over to the side table, pulling the small packet from inside. His fingers fumbled with the wrapper before he brought it to his teeth, tearing it open effortlessly.*That was hot.* You swallowed hard, your body burning under his gaze.

He groaned as he slide the latex on his cock, positioning himself at your entrance once again. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good” he rasped

"oh god– fuck" you cried out as he pushed in slowly. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you steady despite how much you trembled beneath him."It's okay baby, I've got you," Yamaguchi assured you, his voice a soothing murmur as he thrusted slowly.

"ah—" you moaned, barely able to form a coherent thought, your mind clouded with nothing but him—his touch, his heat, the way he fit against you so perfectly.

Your thighs tightened around his hips, desperate to keep yourself grounded, but it was impossible when every roll of his hips sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you.

His eyes never left yours. That unwavering, intense gaze made your breath hitch, your heart race, your body burn. He wasn’t just fucking you—he was devouring you with every movement, every deep thrust, every flicker of raw emotion in those eyes.The way he looked at you with so much love, hunger, and need made your body tremble. It was intoxicating, dizzying, and it only made you want him more.

"i—tadashi fuck, so fucking good" his name rolled off your lips, breathless and wrecked as he drove his cock a little faster, until you were gasping desperately, tears pricking your eyes. He knew you were close. "Cum for me darling" he drawled, his tone so gentle yet so commanding.

You squirmed a bit before coming undone with a long, drawn out moan, your nails digging into his skin and holding him close as your pussy clenched around him, your release coating the latex condom.

"you're so fucking good" Yamaguchi choked out a moan as his own climax finally hit. Dropping his hands to his side, he pulled own slowly from your throbbing cunt. He tossed the condom into the bin before collapsing beside you on the couch, his breathing still heavy, his body warm against yours.

Without a second thought, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance. His fingers brushed back the strands of hair sticking to your damp skin, his touch gentle, reverent.

"How did I get so lucky?" he murmured, his voice soft, filled with awe. "I can't believe you chose me"

You let out a tired chuckle, pressing your face into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "You’re such an idiot, Yams," you muttered, a weak smile tugging at your lips.

He only tightened his hold on you, burying his face in your hair. "Yeah," he sighed, content. "But I’m your idiot now." Yamaguchi let out a satisfied sigh, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head before shifting slightly.

“You must be exhausted,” he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm. “Let me run us a bath so we can clean up and get some sleep.”

His voice was gentle, but there was a quiet insistence in his tone, as if he wanted to take care of you in every way he could. Slowly, he sat up, stretching before glancing down at you with a soft smile.

"Stay here, I’ll get the water ready," he said, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling himself off the couch, disappearing into the bathroom.

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶ ︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

The next morning, you woke up before him, the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the curtains. Yamaguchi lay beside you, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted as he breathed steadily in his sleep. He looked so peaceful—his messy green hair falling into his face, his freckles standing out against his warm skin.

You smiled, propping yourself up on one elbow as you watched him, admiring the way his bare chest rose and fell with each breath. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, while you were wrapped up in his oversized t-shirt, the fabric hanging loosely over your frame, barely covering the marks he’d left on you the night before.

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. He blinked up at you before his lips curled into a lazy smile.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the way his shirt draped over your body, the way the collar had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the dark bruises he'd left on your skin. His cheeks flushed slightly, but there was admiration in his gaze.

Before he could say anything else, the door suddenly swung open with a loud bang.

"Get up, lovebirds," Tsukishima's deadpan voice filled the room. "I made some soup."

Yamaguchi groaned, burying his face into the pillow while you scrambled to pull the blanket up over yourself.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe with an all-too-knowing smirk. "So," he drawled, eyes flicking between the two of you, "you two finally got down to it, I'm glad my plan worked"

Yamaguchi choked, immediately sitting up. "Tsukki—"

The blond ignored him, instead zeroing in on the fresh marks blooming across your neck and shoulder. His smirk widened. "Damn, Yamaguchi, you really marked her, huh?"

Your face burned as you instinctively tugged Yamaguchi’s shirt higher, shooting Tsukishima a glare. "Tsukki, get out."

Just as Tsukishima was about to leave, a thought suddenly crossed your mind, making you sit up.

“Wait, Tsukki.”

He stopped in the doorway, turning his head slightly, already looking irritated. “What?”

You smirked. “Remember last night before we left the party? You said you were fucking someone and seeing them.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, suddenly more awake. “wait what!! tsukki you never told me.”

Tsukishima visibly tensed, his hand gripping the doorframe a little tighter. “Didn’t think it was that important.”

“Oh, but it is now,” you teased, leaning forward. “Who is it?”

Yamaguchi grinned, clearly enjoying the rare moment of Tsukishima being the one on the defensive. “Yeah, Tsukki, you better spill. Someone from campus?”

Tsukishima exhaled sharply, adjusting his glasses. “It’s… someone from the college prep classes,” he muttered, clearly annoyed.You and Yamaguchi exchanged a look before bombarding him with more questions.

“Wait, who exactly? Are they in our department?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Are they the reason you’ve been staying out late?”

“Does she wear glasses? I feel like you’d go for a glasses girl.”

Tsukishima’s eye twitched. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, muttering something about how he definitely should’ve just stayed quiet. You and Yamaguchi burst out laughing.

“That definitely got under his nerves,” you said, grinning.

Yamaguchi stretched, then leaned over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “We should freshen up and go have that soup. And, you know…trouble Tsukki more.”

You smirked. “I like the way you think.”

[caughtthedarkness93]

Not to do more Furiosaposting (and SPOILERS AHEAD), but a couple more things I noticed on a second viewing:

• I think Dementus is being honest about how he lost his family when Furiosa confronts him about it, and that's a big point the film is making. Furiosa isn't like Dementus when she finally chases him down. But she recognizes that she could become like him - a vile, cruel warlord who uses his own pain as an excuse to run roughshod all over the wasteland, smashing everything in her path, using her pain as an excuse to take from others. By that point, she's already a part of Immortan Joe's war machine. She is already complicit. And he does say to her that killing him won't give her what she wants. She resists the idea, but ultimately, it sure seems like she realizes he's right. And ultimately, that leads to her big choice - make a positive change rather than simply trying to hurt the people who hurt you. Granted, she still does do plenty of hurting the people who hurt her (Nice face you got there, Joe, be a shame if something happened to it). But the big, real legacy she builds is taking the Citadel in the name of a greater cause than fueling Immortan's cult of cruelty.

• Praetorian Jack is also complicit, honestly. And it's something he seems to recognize. He outright says that he's looking for a righteous cause. There's a lot we don't know about this man. He tells us very little of his history, nor do we know why he chooses to ride for Immortan Joe. But we do know that after meeting Furiosa, he wants to do everything in his power to help her. She becomes his righteous cause. So the whole film, Furiosa is kind of pulled between those two directions - Dementus, and Jack. Do you defeat the pain you carry by throwing it back to the people who gave it to you? Or do you seek a righteous cause to build it into something positive?

• Perhaps one of my biggest takeaways is related to Jack's death. It's not until Dementus kills Jack that Furiosa gets really set on revenge. Like she clearly loathes Dementus before that. Her first time meeting him as an adult, she goes straight for her gun. The camera highlights their relationship a lot, and I'm pretty sure her vengeful drive towards him has its own musical motif - listen for that driving, distorted noise that you hear sometimes. But revenge doesn't become her biggest driver until after Jack dies. Even as she feels clear hate and rage towards this man, she's still set on getting home all that time. But when Jack dies, she goes out of her way to try to kill him. And, relatedly, when Jack dies, she loses the arm that has her star map tattoo on it. So to put it another way, when she chooses to commit to vengeance, she loses her way.

• We need to consider perspective and narrator here, as this isn't like Fury Road where it's from the point of view of Max, who was directly there. Because this film's opening shot isn't of Furiosa. It's of another character - it's of the History Man. The first line belongs to him - "As the world falls around us. How must we brave it's cruelties?" The closing narration is his as well. Something that sticks in my head more and more is Dementus' ultimate fate. What gets me about it is that it feels implausible. Not only for Furiosa as a character, but for the way the series usually handles injuries. So George Miller was a paramedic before he was a filmmaker. In fact, his work as a paramedic is what partly inspired the first Mad Max film and what funded it. And in these films, Miller has put his medical knowledge to use. The characters' injuries are usually handled in a realistic way, with a few flights of fancy for people to make it through frankly absurd car wrecks. You see this especially in Fury Road, which takes the time to establish that Max is a universal donor twice so it makes sense to have him give a blood transfusion to Furiosa at the end. It talks about the ultimate effects of her collapsed lung and how to treat it. The injuries in these films feel realistic in a way movie wounds often don't. Dementus' final fate does feel a little complicatedly cruel for someone as pragmatic as Furiosa, but what really gets me is how medically implausible it is. We're supposed to believe that Dementus has been stuck in the citadel with a peach tree growing out of him for five years without dying? I...kinda don't. Why does this matter? I think it signals that aspects of the story fall to unreliable narration. These films are campfire stories from a world that fell and rose again. Always have been. But this one has a more direct narrator. The History Man is telling this story. It is filtered through his perspective.

• And that adds another layer to things, considering Furiosa and the History Man's backgrounds. We see the History Man, we see a guy who is clearly horrified by Dementus' actions. When Furiosa's mom is getting executed, he cries. He tells Furiosa that she needs to make herself indispensable - likely because he feels that it's the best way to protect her. But he still does Dementus' bidding, often without question or argument. In a word, the thing that ultimately separates the History Man from Furiosa is that where he was complicit until the very end, Furiosa chose to rebel.

• And I guess if I had to boil it all down, I think there's a great big takeaway from this film. Don't seek hope. Become hope.

Man, I love this movie.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 40 MY LOVE ALL MINE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, jealousy

Jaemin would be lying if he said he wasn't excited. Well at least he was.

The sound of Y/n's voice, usually music to his ears was no worse than nails against a chalk board today, and he couldn't help but hope she'd stop talking. Quite frankly, he couldn't stand it.

She had been talking about Jay all day.

Even now, as she explained how she'd ended up somehow managing to burn a pot of pasta and had to call Jay to help her save it, he fought the urge to stuff his fingers inside his ears and stop listening.

Despite his usual patience, Jaemin felt himself growing more frustrated.

The tickling feeling in his stomach had quickly been replaced by a deep churning, bubbling inside of him, simmering, ready to boil over.

Small details he otherwise couldn't have cared less about, the heart next to Jay's contact name, the sweet texts he'd accidentally caught sight of, the fact that Jay and Y/n had so many pictures together that it was hard to find anything else in her camera roll. Jaemin pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. It irked him.

Her eyes lit up with every mention of his name, her smile seemed just a little brighter and her mood seemed to lift, like everything about Jay made her feel at ease, like he was perfect.

Jaemin wanted it to be him.

The giggles, the sparkle in her eyes, the pep in her step, God, he so badly wanted it to be for him.

For a moment, he almost forgot everything he had planned, things already not going the way he hoped. But still, he persevered. The day wasn't ruined, not yet. He could get over it. All he had to do was direct the conversation away from Jay.

Easier said than done when the man himself had magically appeared in front of him and Y/n inside the mall. Jaemin's fingers curled into a tight fist, teeth clenched together, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Jay lean in closer to Y/n a little further ahead of him.

A knot twisted in Jaemin's stomach.

He could see the girl’s smile, her eyes sparkling so much brighter now that he was in front of her.

That oh so familiar feeling bubbled up inside of him, hot and consuming, as he fought the urge to stride over and interrupt their conversation. The warmth of the room was suffocating, and Jaemin could feel his face flush with a mix of frustration and helplessness.

His mind raced with thoughts, replaying moments where he could have said something, done something differently.

But the wave of insecurity was fleeting, and as he marched over, there was just one thing on his mind.

Jaemin was a man on a mission, and he'd be damned if he let it all go to waste over something so trivial.

He moved quickly, with an indescribable urgency, reaching out for Y/n's arm, not caring who was watching.

"Hey Y/n, let's go." he had a grip on her wrist stronger than any other, not even wasting his breath to acknowledge Jay who stood opposite her as he dragged her away.

"But Jaemin I was talking to Jay." Y/n's retort fell on deaf ears, Jaemin's only focus being on making their way outside. Though he didn't fail to miss the way she apologetically waved goodbye. He rolled his eyes.

"Jaem, I was talking to him." She continued, softer, trying to pull her wrist from his grip, was he always this strong?

If he wasn't so focused, then perhaps Jaemin would've found the slight furrowing of her brows adorable, confused at his actions.

"Jaemin are you even hearing me?" she asked, growing restless in his grip as they finally reached the car park.

He sighed, letting his grip fall loose as he raked his fingers through his hair, huffing.

"I've been hearing you all day long."

Her heart dropped, his tone so much sharper than she'd been used to recently. His stare was piercing, his jaw set in a harsh line.

Y/n felt hot under his gaze. And her heart dropped when he exhaled, shortly and with the click of his tongue.

For a moment it was quiet, and their eyes locked. Jaemin's chest was rising and falling faster than ever before, the usual soft aura that surrounded him nowhere to be seen. His presence strong.

Y/n stood opposite him, perhaps just a few feet away, with her lips slightly parted as she stared at him in shock. So many emotions filled the air between them, each of them struggling to find the words to approach the situation.

"Do you like him?" Jaemin finally snapped, sick of the silence consuming them.

"Huh?" 

Jaemin scoffs.

If she wasn't before, Y/n found herself absolutely taken aback now. Jaemin had never acted like this before. It was weird, how he was being so... brash

"Do you like Jay?" he asked again, this time giving her no oppurtunity to respond,, "Because it's driving me insane. The way you speak about him like he's the only thing that matters, the way you look at him like he's the only one in the room. It feels like a punch to the gut."

Confused, Y/n parts her lips to speak, a sinking feeling in her chest at the slight crack in Jaemin's voice.

"What's wrong Jaem, what do you mean?"

She inched forward, taking his shaky hands into her own. Jaemin didn't protest, melting into her touch. But the fire in his eyes is far from extinguished.

"I mean, seeing you with him makes me go batshit crazy. When he looks at you with hearts projecting out of his eyes, I wonder if you like him the way I like you." Jaemin's cheeks burned, the words echoing in his ears, unravelling and honest. He hadn't expected it to play out this way. "I like you so much it hurts. And everything I've ever done, ever felt, it feels like it falls down the drain the second you smile at him. I'm jealous, "

He says, not lacking confidence for even a second, punctuating his words with harsh ragged breaths.

"I'm so jealous. Because I wish it was me you laughed at that way or me you called when you burn the new pasta recipes you try out. I wish it was me, I wish it was us who filled every corner of your camera roll. Forget like Y/n, I love you, and you never seem to see it."

When he's finished, Jaemin takes a moment to catch his breath but his eyes don't leave hers once— like he's studying every detail of her face, committing it to memory.

"Jaem.." she trails off, and Jaemin desperately holds onto his hope, praying that just this once, things would work out. His eyes bore into hers, searching, though hes not sure what for.

Her eyes had always held the world, always so open and honest yet right now, all Jaemin saw was the glow of his reflection staring back at him.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she pauses, as if to find the right words to say, but Y/n doesn't think she can, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

When Jaemin looks up, averting his gaze, she can only reach up, caressing his head with the utmost tenderness and care before guiding it back down. Her touch is feather light, almost like he's delicate, a vase ready to shatter and break with one wrong move.

Even now, as their eyes lock, faces barely even centimeters apart, Jaemin feels it, the rush of electricity that sparks through him. Like he's on fire.

His voice came out in a whisper, and suddenly that raw, gentle, caring side of Jaemin was stood in front of Y/n again, his presence warming.

"I was scared" A shaky breath fell from his lips, "I thought we would crumble, that we wouldn't be able to handle it. That we'd end up like before" he sighed, feeling so incredibly stupid as he heard his own words. "I thought we'd be over, for good."

A mix of vulnerability and fear shines in Jaemin's eyes, his heartbeat echoing.

He feels like he's on a tightrope, teetering, ready to fall and break with the slightest movement. But God, he's holding on for dear life.

"I didn't think y-" Jaemin cuts Y/n off, the tension palpable. He needs to know her answer. He needs to know now.

"That's the thing, Y/n, you don't think. I'm standing here pouring my heart out, and you're just... suprised? I need you to see me, peach. To really see me."

Her heartbeat raced, and for the first time ever, Y/n truly, genuinely and really found herself conscious of the way her cheeks flushed at the sight of the man in front of her.

His hair tousled in the wind, the tips of his ears turning pink— that was his favourite colour, hers too— his eyebrows were strong and arched. She realised everything she loved was held between those features, his compassion, his care, him.

That was it.

Despite all the people she'd loved in her weird and wonderful ways, it finally made complete sense. Why she never realised.

It was so hard to put Jaemin into words, because she loved him in a way she had never loved someone else.

Because Y/n didn't look at Jaemin and see just a boyfriend, a partner, or a lover—Y/n looked at Jaemin and saw forever.

Her forever only.

"I love you." She speaks with full surety and a big smile, tears welling in her eyes.

"Say it again." Jaemin holds his breath, needing to hear her once more before he lets himself go, to become truly vulnerable in front of the one person who meant everything to him. Forever.

"I love you, Jaem."

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NOTES | I hate writing confessions I've come to realise, but its here guys, jaemyn is official ‼️ i also don't fw writing do u wanna be my gf/bf bs so you're gonna have to imagine that i just CANNOT do it without gagging, total me problem but it is what it is , maybe I'll grow up and write it into a bonus chapter or something 🤷‍♀️

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[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (5) - Bad Medicine

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part (Finale)

Word count: 6.5k

-Your love is like bad medicine, bad medicine is what I need-

The afterlife was so damn random. Your first experience with afterlife was an office with a bunch of tall men with shrunken heads. Some of them had only one eye! And not in the eyepatch kind of way, but in the one big eye like a cyclops way! And one of them was dressed exactly like Beetlejuice, and that was the most normal thing in this entire office! “What the fuck,” you whispered as Beetlejuice turned to the one dressed just like him.

“Bob, you and the boys stand guard! Nobody gets through,” he then turned to Lydia “Let's go, honey,” well you were already here so there was no going back. Why were you doing this again? Oh, yeah, because Astrid went and got herself into trouble. You went after him and Lydia only to be met with even more randomness and the utter bizarre feeling permeating this entire world. You realized everything was tilted, the floors, the walls, absolutely everything in this place was at an angle and it wasn't even consistent! If it wasn't for this kind of circumstance, you would actually marvel at the architecture of all of this.

“We’re like Bonnie and Clyde, you and me, without bullet holes,” Beetlejuice pointed out almost giddily as he led you and Lydia down the halls.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Lydia wasn't having any of it.

“You go right down the hallway, three rights through the ninth door right,” he pumped his fist. “To the Soul Train,” Beetlejuice instructed you and it made it sound like he wasn't going with you.

“Where are you going? Lydia asked immediately, for all her dislike of the whatever Beetlejuice was he did seem powerful, and if you were going to save Astrid from the clutches of death you might as well have someone powerful on your side. Someone who actually knew where you were supposed to head after you rescue her.

“I’m gonna go to the little boy’s room first,” why did a guy that was probably a powerful demon or spirit of sort and probably very, very old, just use that phrase? Why was he so immature? Just why?

“Fuck it, let's just go,” you ran through the halls following the directions Beetlejuice gave you and soon enough you could see the crowd forming on your path. “That’s a good sign,” you told Lydia and she nodded. The crowd did slow you down a bit, but not by a lot, they seemed more interested in dancing and having fun rather than actually getting to their destination. Well, if after life was for an eternity then you guessed they didn't really have anywhere to rush, they would have all the time in the world.

Unless there were something you didn't know about and ghosts could die and now your head hurt because you were thinking about too many things that you didn't need to think about right now! You entered the train station that looked kind of like a disco themed train station and the music playing kind of gave it that feel too. You looked over the crowd from the stairs looking for Astrid but all you could see was a lot of dead people.

“Astrid!” Lydia yelled from the stairs and then you caught sight of the two people dragging someone in a dress that looked a lot like what Astrid was wearing for Halloween.

“There,” was no way you would mistake anyone for her. “There she is!” you pointed your finger towards her and jumped over the fence running through the crowd as quickly as you could, pushing through the ghosts just as Astrid was pushed on to the train. “Damn it!” you cursed trying to keep your sight on the doors they pushed Astrid through. “Astrid!” you yelled as loud as you could, for the first time ever saying her name, though that didn't even cross your mind, and you pushed through the door where she stood, frozen in fear and clearly panicking on the inside. “Come on, let's get out of here,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the train just as Lydia caught up to you.

“Astrid!” Lydia quickly pulled her into a hug and Astrid immediately wrapped her arms around her mother. There was no hesitation, or resentment Astrid carried up until now, there was just pure happiness at seeing her mother.

You smiled, happy that you made it in time, though you would still have to find the bastard that tricked Astrid into trading her soul. You should have known things were going too easy. Not only did the guys that pushed Astrid into the train came back due to all the commotion you made, but there were also some guys dressed like police officers pointing toward you and Lydia. “We need to run!” you yelled and all three of you looked around for an exit that wasn't blocked.

“Over there,” Lydia pointed at the door to your left.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” you muttered to Astrid as the three of you began running.

“Save it for later, Barnacle,” she hissed at you, but you could tell she knew this was still a really bad situation. For all you knew you would be running right into another trap and you had no idea how to reunite with Beetlejuice so he could help you deal with the rest of Astrid’s problem.

Since you reached it first you forcefully pushed the doors open, only to stumble forward and fall face first into the sand from way too high. How were you not hurt? Sure, the sand cushioned your fall, but still…

A shriek from above made your eyes widen and the next thing you felt was a body falling right on top of you and not only knocking all the air out of your lungs but also managed to fill your mouth with sand.

“Sorry,” of course it was Astrid that fell on top of you.

You just spat out the sand that got into your mouth and sighed, at this point you should have been concerned about your safety and health, but from the looks of it, working for Delia made you free from such petty burdens. Still, unlike falling onto the sand, this one hurt, like actually hurt, and you just knew you would be feeling it for a long time. “Forget the chihuahua you are much heavier than that. You're an entire pack of chihuahuas!” you groaned, and accidentally missed the smile on her face as she patted you on the shoulder.

“At least you've softened the fall for me, Y/N,” did she just say your name? You must have hit your head. That was the only explanation.

You laughed mockingly. “That's exactly what I intended. My life's purpose is now fulfilled, and I can die in peace,” sarcasm dripped from your voice as you stood up with a long, audible, groan. You were 95% certain you would end up with back pain for the rest of your life from Astrid falling on top of you.

Astrid groaned and smacked her forehead. “You didn't just say that. Right here and right now,” she sighed, and well, you supposed this was a really bad timing.

No regrets though! In fact, you were rather satisfied grinning with pride.

“And you regret nothing, of course you don’t,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, but you swore you could see a smile on her face. Astrid finally looked around and you felt absolutely lost, after all, all you were seeing was all the sand and more sand and endless sand around you. “Hey, where are we?” Astrid asked what probably all three of you were thinking.

“I don't know,” Lydia admitted and you just shrugged. Geography really wasn't your strongest suit but it didn't look like any desert you were aware of.

“Is that Saturn?” you followed Astrid’s line of sight and the direction she was pointing at, and sure enough… there was a fucking planet right there! “So, we must be on one of its moons? I swear the afterlife is so random!”

“You can say that again,” you said, you definitely weren't guessing that from just the planet but now that you looked at it, it really did seem obvious. Still, damn this girl was smart.

All of a sudden the sand close to you began shaking and looking like it was rippling, like something underneath it was moving.

“Maybe we should just, you know, run!” there was no way that was a good sign and you weren’t about to wait for Astrid and Lydia to get the message, you just pushed them away from the sand and began running away from whatever was moving under the sand. From the looks of it, it was big and you did not want to risk becoming a dinner for some afterlife monster.

And you made a good decision as something emerged from the sand and you looked back. “Holy shit!” you cried out. It was some kind a huge worm and it was easily bigger than any animal aside from a whale that you ever saw.

“Sandworm!” Lydia identifying the creature wasn’t helping, but now you would at least know you got eaten by a sandworm if you failed to escape.

“Got any idea how to escape?!” you glanced at Lydia. She was the expert, surely she had-

“None! Just keep running!” yeah, great, that would work, especially when the sandworm caught up to them much faster than they were running. And then by some miracle a door opened above you.

“Take my hand!” someone yelled, and at this point you didn’t care if it was a demon, or police, or anything, as long as it wasn’t this sandworm. You and Lydia let Astrid up first, and then Lydia pushed you to go ahead next. You were not about to argue with her, so you let the man pull you up and then helped him bring Lydia up as well and he closed the door right as the sandworm collided with it.

You dropped down on the floor and took several deep breaths. There would be a lot to unpack here if you survived. And the worst thing about it? If you told any of this to roughly 99% or even every single psychiatrist you’d be sent to an asylum.

“Dad,” Astrid whispered and you finally glanced at the man that saved you. Actually, now that you looked at him, you could see some resemblance, especially if one ignored the color of his skin and the fishes attached to his body eating his flesh. Well, at least someone was making some good memories in this damn world. The best you had this far was Astrid falling on top of you, and that would probably leave long-lasting consequences on your back. Astrid and Lydia hugged the man and you just sat back, letting the family reunion unfold undisturbed by your presence.

~X~

Astrid's dad let you all into an office of sorts and poured coffee into the mugs as Lydia and Astrid sat at the table you stood back not really sure how to act and not wanting to intrude on the family reunion. Besides, there was another issue, as much as you could see that Astrid needed some closure and a moment with her dad you also knew your time was ticking. Not to mention there was some kind of police after you and Lydia for entering this world while still being alive, and there was also the bastard that stole Astrid's life to be dealt with. So, as much as you understood Astrid needed to have this moment with her father you also knew you just had to go.

In fact, you had to leave five minutes ago.

“Marie Curie, after the radiation poisoning. Right?” her dad asked, and you finally took a better look at her. You didn’t dare to ask her what her costume was when she was leaving and now that you looked at her properly and her dad pointed it out, well, it was obvious…

Like hell it was!

Who would look at that dress and immediately go: ‘Oh, yeah, Marie Curie!’ and sure, it was pretty much as close to her dress and hairstyle from one of her most well-known photos, but still! How many people would remember the exact dress right away?

“Learnt from the best,” but Astrid did look proud of herself, so you figured you should let the chihuahua be delusional.  

“We made a great kid,” Astrid’s dad turned to Lydia and no matter what you did less than an hour ago you were very tempted to disagree.

“I know you can't see me, but I check in on your both all the time,” okay, that was actually really sweet. “And I don't want to be the reason that drove you two apart, you need each other, you make each other better. Always have,” you blinked a few times, taking in the image of the happy family hug.

This was too wholesome for your own good. This was not the side of Astrid you needed to see!

Damn it!

When the family separated Astrid glanced at you and froze for a moment before smirking. “Don’t go soft on me now, Barnacle,” she just had to call you out, didn’t she?!

Blood rushed to your face, and you were sure steam burst out of your ears. Considering how crazy and absurd this whole place was, maybe it did happen. “I am not! And quit wasting time, we need to get your soul back, you damn chihuahua!” you swiftly left the room. You would get Astrid’s soul back, leave this afterlife world, and never see the damn chihuahua again!

Astrid walked out after you, with her parents right behind her. “Come on, before our cantankerous Barnacle gets lost,” she said it with a strange sense of cheerfulness in her tone, but that was the least of your worries.

“Can-Cantan- I’m sorry, what?!” you stammered, not even remotely capable of figuring out the meaning of that word.

“Cranky, grumpy,” her dad provided, and you finally figured out where she got it from.

“Fucking chihuahua,” you felt your eye twitching as she just laughed at you.

“Come on,” while still laughing she actually went and grabbed your forearm, pulling you along. “Which way, dad?” she asked, turning to her dad as you focused on her hand wrapped around your forearm.

“Right down the hall, we need to stop him before the transfer becomes permanent,” her dad took lead, and you could feel Astrid’s grip on your arm getting tighter and it finally made sense to you. She needed a sense of normality, so she provoked you, so she could, at least for a moment, forget her life was still on the line.

~X~

You followed Astrid’s dad through the halls, having no idea which way you were going but according to him you would need to intercept the bastard that tricked Astrid before he got his passport stamped and made the transfer permanent. Why was it so easy for him to accomplish his goal while you, frankly, had no idea how to get the process reversed.

You didn't know what you could do to stop him, sure you could catch him, but what then? “Hey, how do we make him give Astrid’s soul back?” because you doubted a monster like him would just hand it over.

Astrid’s dad stopped for a moment. “I'm not sure, we’ll figure it out after we catch him,” he turned to Astrid. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart, I promise you.”

“Dad,” Astrid whispered now uncertain what the outcome of this would be.

“I promise,” he repeated even though all four of you knew that deep down maybe this was an empty promise.

And it damn near was just an empty promise.

You reached the entrance of the officers only to see the guy smirking smugly. He was too far away, you couldn’t reach him. “Don't stamp that passport!” Astrid’s dad yelled but it was too late whoever was behind the counter stamped the passport.

“You're too late, man,” he said and your eyes widened as you, instinctively rather than through a conscious effort, caught Astrid as she slumped back. Your heart beat wildly inside of your chest, how could you have let this happen? You looked at Astrid and you couldn't even apologize. You all failed her, the transfer was complete and she would die right here. You just didn't make it in time.

But then as if by some miracle the floor opened beneath the man and he just fell through into the flames. Then you saw what happened, the one who put the stamp on the transfer was Beetlejuice. A sense of relief flooded you, but you could not ignore how useless you felt. If he wasn't there you would have failed, this would have all been for nothing.

There wasn’t time to celebrate though. “This way!” Astrid's dad led you once more, after all, you still had the police after you and Lydia to worry about. He led you until you reached a small room with a crooked ladder leading through an opening in the ceiling.

“OK, this is as far as I go,” Astrid’s dad said and immediately Astrid hugged him.

“I love you,” she whispered wanting him to know that because there was no telling when she would get the chance to say it again.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Have an amazing life,” he held her as tightly as he possibly could before letting her go and looking at both her and Lydia. “Take care of each other, I'll see you later,” he told them both.  

The three of you climbed outside and it turned out you were back at the cemetery, somehow. “I'm not even going to question anything,” you sighed, at this point learning to accept that the things around this family were just going to be weird and you had no control over it.

It definitely felt good to breathe in some fresh air. Even if your back hurt. ‘Yup, this is going to keep hurting,’ you thought and frowned as you massaged your lower back.

Astrid turned to Lydia. “Thank you for saving my life! I'm so sorry I never believed that you saw ghosts and, I’m just sorry for all of it,” Astrid was crying for the first time since you met her, she apologized with all of her heart to Lydia, and you looked away not wanting to interrupt the moment.

It just crossed your mind that you had no place in any of this. You were, at best, Delia's assistant who just happened to be there. You had no connection to either Lydia or Astrid other than the fact that you and Astrid did not exactly like each other, so being here actually felt uncomfortable.

Now that the adrenaline was gone and Astrid was saved you caught yourself wondering why you even went after Astrid. Lydia could have done it herself and you went and risked your life for someone you claimed to hate, and it was the most ridiculous decision you could have made.

“Oh my God, my wedding!” Lydia’s shout broke you out of your thoughts and that was the last thing you expected to hear from her right now, but here you were.

“Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight you know you don't have to do this, right?” Astrid went after her mother and then she realized you weren't following her. She turned to you grabbed you by the hand, pulling you along.

“Wait, Chihuahua!” you protested, but you really should have known you weren’t going to accomplish anything.

“Come on, please. After all of this I can’t deal with this wedding alone,” she admitted and you sighed, deciding to leave the feelings related to whether you should or shouldn't have gone after Astrid for later. At the end of the day, you did the right thing. You wanted to save her life consequences be damned, you had no intention of feeling guilt over that. And the feeling of her hand wrapped around your made that decision much easier.

“I might as well deal with this stupid wedding as well,” you shrugged, ignoring how your heart speed up when she smiled at your words.

Satisfied that you were coming with her and still holding your hand, Astrid turned to her mother once more. “Are you sure about this?”

Lydia was not sure, you could tell that. but she probably figured that if she didn’t do it now she would just get cold feet later and give up on the wedding altogether. Which would be a smart thing to do but you doubted she would reach that decision that easily. “Rory loves me and that's gotta be enough,” there was definitely something about her Rory loved, and you really believed it wasn’t what Lydia thought it was.

The three of you went into the church and the relief on Rory's face looked genuine, which was actually surprising, but then you heard the crowd already filming the event sitting on the pews and it all made sense. “Oh my God, I thought you got cold feet.”

“No, blame me. She just saves me for my date from hell,” Astrid sad and you probably couldn't describe what happened to her in a better way. A date from hell has never been so literal.

“Who are all these people?” Lydia was understandably confused as she looked at the people Rory invited, and you could tell she didn’t recognize any of them.

“Just a couple of influencers. Nobody under 5 million followers and I think we have a Netflix executive in here,” and Rory found nothing wrong with that. He had his ideas and he was not going to compromise them for the sake of Lydia’s comfort, and you know for a fact that she said she didn't want too many guests, that she wanted this to be private.

“Damn you're an asshole,” you shook your head, only now realizing Delia wasn’t here, and sure, she could be self-absorbed at times, and she disliked Rory, but she wouldn’t miss this. “Where is Delia?” you asked.

“Right here! She’s helping me calm down before the wedding,” and Beetlejuice was right here, probably to collect on his part of the deal with Delia somehow right with him.

How did that even-? You weren’t even going to bother anymore. You thought the madness would be over by now, but no, the show was still going on.

You patted Astrid on the shoulder and just slumped against the wall until you sat down. “Look, I’m just gonna sit here and rest for a bit, I need a moment,” was there a way to get therapy and avoid being sent to an asylum for the rest of your life?

Astrid had a strangely compassionate look on face. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for being here, and I mean it,” somehow you trusted her, even with all the banter and fights between the two of you. She crouched down so she was at your eye-level. “I mean it, Y/N,” you definitely trusted her and you smiled nudging her lightly toward her mother.

What followed was the back and forth between Beetlejuice and Rory that you frankly didn't care about much but what really got your attention was when Beetlejuice just randomly manifested a syringe with something inside of it and injected Rory with it. And apparently what was within it was some kind of a truth serum.

Rory looked like he was trying to stay silent, but then he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I always thought your whole act was bullshit! I never believed in ghosts, spirits or any of it,” well now you were kind of happy you didn't go back to the house because seeing this emotional manipulator get his just deserts was worth it.

“What? All this time? Why did you want to get married?��� Lydia had the most reasonable reaction to Rory's confession, but you honestly had to wonder just how he managed to trick her so well she.

“Money! I knew I could make more as your husband than I could as your manager! Oh, and I never had a dead fiancé! I just went to that survivors retreat so that I can weak women and exploit them and I hit the codependent lottery when I met you!” he was truly, absolutely a scumbag. An ever bigger one than you imagined.

And then Beetlejuice continued to defy all the laws of logic and the nature and created a boxing glove on Lydia's right hand, which somehow gave Lydia enough strength to punch Rory across the church.

“Okay, that was satisfying to see, but what the hell is going on here? Just how?” you asked blankly, just for a moment wondering why you even bothered trying to reasonably explain things happening tonight.

“Beats me, we got to see Rory flying,” Astrid pointed out and well you couldn’t see the flaw in that logic. “Say, what would you confess if someone injecting that into you?” oh no…

“I can arrange that,” Beetlejuice said before you could react and one second later you felt a needle pierce your neck and off you went just like Rory did.

You weren’t even trying to fight it. “I don't hate you, at all. Actually, I kinda like you. I mean, you do annoy me, but I like you. Uh, thanks for you know, fixing my drawing and I'm really impressed by your vocabulary, and that really infuriates me because I have to Google a lot of words because of you,” you took a deep breath and just sighed, not even capable of looking at Astrid right now because of how embarrassed you were. “And I think you are really beautiful, and damn that thing really works… Oh my God, this is a nightmare,” you glanced at Astrid and saw she was completely red in the face. “Well, at least seeing you blush makes it worth it,” you had to shut your mouth and make a genuine effort to keep more of how you felt from spilling out.

“Barnacle,” at this point that was turning into a pet name more than an insult, so you fired right back.

“Chihuahua,” the two of you had the strangest nicknames for one another that was clear by now. “I actually don’t mind that you call me that,” you admitted, still under the effect of the serum and smacked your forehead. “Fuck!” you cursed.

Astrid looked away, still blushing. “Noted,” she muttered, but you could see the smile on her face.

Finally, you looked away from Astrid and immediately saw horror that would haunt you for the rest of your life. At this point you could make a rather long list of those things. But this one was at the very top, as the people who Rory invited were being sucked into their phones. You were tempted to just leave but you weren’t about to leave Astrid here. Even if you were mostly sure she wouldn’t be hurt.

And then you must have been transported into a fever dream because Lydia suddenly changed into a red wedding dress, Beetlejuice’s clothes changed as well, music started playing and there was this huge melting, kind of disgusting looking, cake and you were all forced to dance and then the police zombies showed up.

And then, just as randomly as you were forced to start dancing you just stopped. “Is it finally over?” you asked no one in particular, though Astrid and Delia were the closest to you.

“Knowing this guy? This is just the beginning,” yeah Delia really had a way to console you and make you feel better.

The door slammed open suddenly all of you could see a woman, covered in stitches, standing there menacingly, and you had no idea who she was but something about her made her seem dangerous.

“Beetlejuice!” oh, yeah, he did start mentioning an ex before you interrupted him. That felt like a lifetime ago at this point.

“What the fuck?” oh, you were absolutely fucked if Beetlejuice of all people… or well, ghosts or demons or whatever he was, said that.

So, you did the most reasonable thing you could and stood in front of Astrid just in case this woman decided to turn her attention toward her. “What are you doing?” she hissed at you, but she did grab onto your shoulder.

“I don’t know, we are surrounded by supernatural beings and I clearly have a death wish, because I’d rather get between you and that, than let you get hurt,” oh, you were still under the effect of the truth serum.

“I'm back,” the woman declared.

“We can se-“ you were about to speak, but Astrid quickly put her hand over your mouth.

“Maybe that truth serum wasn’t worth it,” she groaned, pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

“You think?” your voice came out muffled by her hand, but you still said what came to your mind. “Look, if that guy looks afraid, I think we need to be afraid too,” you whispered, and Astrid nodded and as subtly as she could pointed toward the book near the three of you.

“Cover me,” Astrid said and you weren't sure how you were going to do it, but seeing as Beetlejuice was trying to talk his way out of whatever trouble he was in you figured he had you all covered.

Astrid came back to your and Delia’s side with the book in hands and flipped through the pages until she found the part about the Sandworms. “Can you get me something I can draw with?” she asked, and you were never so happy you always had a pen at your disposal.

“Here,” you handed it to her. Astrid nodded, drawing the square on the floor before knocking and then she pushed you and Delia away from the square, and just in time as the sandworm broke through the floor.

“Astrid, you are- I don't even have the words,” you could only watch as Beetlejuice directed the worm toward Rory and the woman and made it eat them. Which was somehow not even the most bizarre thing that happened tonight.

“OK, can we just go now?” you asked and from the looks of it everyone seemed to agree with you as you, and Astrid, Lydia and Delia all began heading for the exit.

“Hey, we had a deal!” Beetlejuice reminded Lydia, with the contract she signed held in his hand.

Much to your surprise, Astrid stepped forward. “She doesn’t have to marry you. You violated code 699! Yes, you illegally brought my mom into the afterlife,” she lifted the damn book up. “According to this book that contract is null and void,” Astrid explained. Did you ever admit that you actually really liked this girl because you did and she just rescued her mom back.

“Truth serum still works,” Delia snickered next to you.

“Fuck!” you cursed, knowing full well you said that and that, given you were merely half a dozen feet away from Astrid, she heard you.

Lydia stepped closed to Beetlejuice. “Look I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, but the six hundred year age gap was a little bit too much for me. Beetle-“ he began hissing but she just raised her finger. “Beetlejuice,” he began inflating as Lydia for his name, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice” Beetlejuice just popped like a balloon. That was it, he was gone. This was probably over now.

Hopefully.

There was still a chance you would jinx yourself right here and now and another bullshit would happen.

Police officers from the world of the dead unfroze and their detective began yapping about forensics and keeping the media away and he even posed so you could all take a selfie, and you were doing your very best to ignore him. That is until he reached over and just grabbed Delia. “Sister you're coming with me,” he said.

“Hey wait, she belongs here,” you went to stop him, consequences be damned, but before you could reach her Delia just shook her head and you halted, confused by her reaction. She was just fine when you last saw her, but then you saw them, the bite marks.

“What? Delia what did you do?” Lydia asked, exasperated.

“I fell for a scam and I'm counting on you to claim a refund,” the snakes, the damn snakes.

“The snakes were actually poisonous, weren't they?” Astrid voiced what you just realized.

“Yeah. So, I died of embarrassment,” yeah, sure you could go with Delia's explanation.

“Whatever makes you rest in peace,” you grinned at her for a bit, but the smile fell as quickly as it appeared. She was dead, and you came to really care about her.

“Your work is gonna go up in value,” and Astrid was joking as well or rather finding the brighter side and the entire situation.

“Oh well then,” and at least it made Delia happy.

“Oh, Delia, I’ll miss you,” Lydia reached over and touched her stepmother.

“No you won't! I'll find Charles and we'll haunt you all until you beg us to move on,” Delia promised and you were sure she would keep her words, and then she was taken away leaving only you Astrid and Lydia in the church.

“Well, this was… an experience,” you had no idea how things would continue from this point on. Was Rory dead? Were all the people he invited just gone? This was too much of a headache, a fever dream you were hoping to wake up from.

Wait…

Delia was dead!

“Fuck! I lost my job!” you cursed only for Astrid to pat you on the back.

~X~

The next morning you woke up still under the effect of what happened the previous night and all the things you learned saw and experienced. In your mind that was supposed to be an unknown and now you knew what happened after death. Now you knew how things were once someone dies and from the looks of it now you could see ghosts just like Lydia and Astrid. And then there was Astrid… and all the things you said under the effects of that damn truth serum.

Slowly, with a frown on your face and some pain in your back, you got out of your bed and got ready for the day. You were actually surprised you even slept last night, but maybe you were just that exhausted.

You went down the stairs to find Astrid sitting there. “Hey,” she actually greeted you first without snide remark or an insult hurled toward you she even had a small smile on her face. So, the last night really did happen. If the pain in your back wasn’t enough of a proof this definitely was.

“Hey,” neither of you seemed eager to actually have a conversation after everything that happened. You understood, she damn near died so if you were in her shoes you probably would have tried staying in bed for as long as you possibly could. You'd probably start avoiding every single person fearing they might try to trade their your life for their own, so she was handling this a lot better than you would.

“You aren't the ghost, are you?” she tried to joke but at this point you understood why she questioned absolutely everything.

“Unless everyone I've been interacting with is also a ghost, no I am alive. Are you?” you fired back the same question, though it was absolutely a joke and she, luckily, chuckled a bit

“Yeah, I don't think we need another proof of that, after I nearly lost my life,” she had a point there and you both just grinned at each other. Where were you supposed to take this? All of this?

“Did you sleep at all?” you asked after a bit of actually comfortable silence.

She just shook her head. “I couldn't. I can't stop thinking about everything. There are so many things on my mind I just couldn't fall asleep,” you noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes which you originally guessed where the remnants of her costume but now that you were a bit closer to her you realized it was just from not sleeping last night. “You?”

“I did, somehow. I think I was just exhausted,” your whole world changed and you couldn’t tell if it was for the better or for the worse. But even with all those strange experiences you would absolutely need therapy for it still wasn't as significant or big as the change Astrid just went through. After all while you believed in ghosts and didn't really think about afterlife Astrid actually denied them, believed it was, well you didn't know what she believed in exactly, but you guessed she believed there was just nothing after death.

“I get that,” she agreed and finally looked you in the eyes and you just saw the question at the tip of her tongue. “Why did you come with my mom? Why did you come to rescue me?” and that was bothering her too. She couldn’t explain it.

“I don't know,” that wasn't exactly true, but you really didn't know the entire reason you took such a big risk. Liking Astrid wasn’t all there was to it. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “I guess I just couldn't stand by when someone I know got tricked into losing her life. I just didn’t want you dead, Astrid,” you admitted.

“That's the third time you said my name, you know? In all the time you've known me,” she smiled softly, and she was right, it really was the third time you said her name. It felt kind of strange, almost unique on your tongue, because you've never really mentioned her name to other people either. You just either called her by her last name or simply chihuahua so saying Astrid would take some getting used to.

“I guess I did,” you looked at the table. “I was thinking, and you can say no, but would you like to start over? Maybe try to be friends or maybe you know go out for a coffee? I mean I imagine whatever I come up with won't be as bad as your first date so you know, we could make it a friendly date and fix the impression on dating you probably have right now? And now I'm rambling but you get the point!” you were ready for her to decline, to say that, while she can tolerate you now and maybe doesn’t want you to die either, she just wasn't interested in building any kind of friendship with you, much less going on a date.

But instead she actually smiled and looked down a little bit shyly. “I'd actually like that. We can go on the date, an actual date, I mean if that's not too fast for you,” she lightly scratched her cheek in embarrassment. “Looks like I kind of have a knack for rushing things,” she laughed and you laughed with her.

Date it was.

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[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go. Diving into Nicaragua, and beyond…

Song Inspo: “Who’s Crying Now” by Journey

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Violence, implied torture, heavy angst (and a twist ending).

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Part 8: For Whom the Bell Tolls

March 1984

When you got into Payback, you didn’t sign up to be part of a war. You knew you weren’t a soldier, and frankly, the rest of you had no business being here either. This was a CIA base, being run by a no-nonsense officer, Grace Mallory. You had no intention of getting in her way.

Nicaragua was hot and surrounded by jungle, not exactly conducive to a leather suit. You kept to the shade by yourself and watched Swatto, Ben, and Gunpowder makes fools of themselves after Grace tore them a new one. You respected anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Ben without even flinching, especially as a non-supe.

Then again, he had poured on his usual “charm.”

“You know, with a figure like yours, you are wasted down here,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. Grace didn't even give him the time of day. Stan chimed in, presumably to explain Vought’s apparent “partnership” with the U.S. military for this mission. Ben walked away from her, barely glancing in your direction along the way.

That suited you just fine. Things had been frosty between you two for the past month, but as long as you stayed out of his way, he didn’t butt into yours.

Days later, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Sleeping in a tent was not your bag, and especially not using the restroom outdoors. Would it be considered desertion if you booked a flight home right now?

You escaped your tent with a huff, swatting mosquitos as you went. You’d tried to take an afternoon nap, but who could sleep in this heat?

“Not exactly a luxury suite, is it?” Black Noir said. You jolted, realizing he was standing just a few feet away without his mask on. It was refreshing to see his face, but you were still a bit sour toward him.

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?” you said dryly. You began walking toward the mess tent. Noir joined you.

“Well, it looks like you’re done playing your little game,” he said, raising his brows meaningfully at Soldier Boy. He seemed to be trying to chat up Mallory again.

Good fucking luck there, you thought. She already looked bored.

You turned to Noir with a flat look.

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing. Noir covered you when a grenade blasted the ground just a few feet away from you.

"You okay?" he asked in concern. You nodded shakily. He steadied you with a reassuring hold on your arms.

“Come on!” he said.

“What’s happening?” you exclaimed over the noise. You were terrified, and you definitely weren’t trained for this.

You let Noir lead you through the camp. When men in faded green uniforms came at you with guns, he took most of them out. You managed to duck under a man’s gun and touch his face, compelling him to sleep.

“There you are!” said Countess. She had the TNT Twins and Mindstorm in tow. For once, you were relieved to see them.

Finally you made it into a clearing where Ben was fighting with his shield at the ready. He punched out another enemy soldier who fell to the ground. He turned to see you, and then the others in your team beginning to surround him. You frowned in confusion and looked at Noir.

“What’re you doing?” you asked in worry. He glanced at you, but didn’t answer.

“What the fuck is this?!” Ben said angrily.

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago, you piece of shit,” Noir said, his tone icy and determined.

The TNT Twins attacked first. It managed to knock Ben to the ground. You were frozen in shock when Countess and Mindstorm joined in, along with Noir.

“Stop!” you said, but no one heard you. What the fuck is happening?!

They had Ben going for a minute, as their triple teaming managed to keep him on the ground…just not for long. With a grunt, he shoved them all away with a show of strength.

“Sirena!” Noir finally called to you, his gaze imploring you to help them. 

“No, stop!” you shouted back. You couldn’t watch this fight happen again. Because this time, Ben would kill him. He’d kill all of them.

You headed for Ben and Noir, but a gloved hand stopped you. It grabbed your wrist and turned you around, right into Countess’s waiting fist. You cried out and stumbled, but you found purchase on one of the stone walls. Before you could recover, she grabbed your shoulders and kneed you hard in the stomach.

Shit… You tasted blood when you went down, heaving for breath. She packed one hell of a punch in those little gloved fists.

“Been waiting for this, bitch,” she hissed from above you.

The second she got close enough, you grabbed her by her long hair and punched her as hard as you could in that fake-ass nose. Then you kicked out with both feet into her stomach. She doubled over and fell back on her ass.

You managed to roll and stumble onto your feet. You glanced over quick and saw that Ben was beating Noir within an inch of his life.

“Ben!” you shouted, wanting to stop him, but that was when Mindstorm stepped in front of you. His eyes met yours, and it became a battle of wills as he tried to shove you deep into the darkness of your inner world.

You could play mind games too though. You fought his hold, with every scrap of your consciousness, and you even managed to take a few steps forward. If you touched him, it would be over. As a man, he wouldn’t be able to withstand your own powers.

And your plan might’ve worked, if Countess hadn’t walloped you hard from behind.

When you woke, the bare room was bright with florescent lighting and cold beyond belief. You shuddered. You were no longer wearing your supe suit. Instead, you’d been dressed in some kind of gray hospital gown and a pair of woolly socks, stripped of even your boots. At least you still had underwear.

You uncurled yourself from the thin cot you were laying on. The room held little more than a prison cot, a toilet, and a sink. You let out a shaky breath.

Where the hell…

You got up slowly, mindful of your aches and pains throughout your body. The back of your head was throbbing too, courtesy of Countess, you slowly remembered.

That fucking bitch.

There was a door with a small glass windowpane. You tried to twist the handle, but of course it wouldn’t budge. You peered out of the window and saw a long hallway. There was a door just like yours on the opposite side with a small window.

“H-Hey!” you shouted. “Is anyone there? Hello?!”

A moment later, you heard Ben say your name, calling out to you. He sounded angry, but you were close enough to sense his relief at hearing your voice. You were relieved to hear him too, at least.

“Ben!” you said, as tears sparked in your eyes. “Where the hell are we?”

“The Russians got us,” he said, though it was heavily muffled through his door and yours.

Oh shit…

“After those cocksuckers fucking betrayed me!” he shouted. You heard a banging sound, like his fist meeting the wall.

“Did you know?” he asked in anger.

“What?” you said incredulously.

“Did you fucking know what they were planning?”

You were shocked, both at his audacity, and at the way he really thought you could do that to him. To anyone.

“How can you ask me that,” you said tremulously, “when I’m the only one who tried to fucking help you?”

It finally hit you then, where you were and why this was happening. You laughed without humor, wiping manic tears from your cheeks in vain.

“Well, look where that got me,” you said. You shook your head. “God, I wish I’d never met you.”

You almost wished you could see his face. He would probably try to be stoic, but even through the walls, you sensed the discordant impact of your words. It affected him, more than he’d probably ever show.  

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said sharply.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

That fell heavily between you. You didn’t regret it. It was high time this man knew the truth, about everything.

No more games.

“Oh, really. You included, huh?” Ben said. “I didn’t do shit to you.”

You gaped. “You shoved me to ground! I had bruises for days. Or did you conveniently forget that part?”

“You got in the fucking way!” he retorted. But then, he simmered down slightly. “Besides, you know you weren’t the one I was aiming for.”

And that just reminded you of Black Noir, with no small measure of guilt, and just how badly Ben had beaten him before you two were captured. You didn’t doubt that Ben had killed him.

“But you still did it, and you couldn’t even look me in the eye and apologize, like a man,” you said. “Instead, you fucked a pack of whores.”

You shook your head and tried to calm your breathing. You wiped under your eyes.

“But I guess I did bring it on myself. I knew what you were the second I met you,” you said coldly. “In fact, the only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

That blow landed as well. You felt his shock, deep inside.

“Is that so?” he said, less angry then. More resigned. “It was all an act, huh?”

New tears burned in your eyes. They slid down your cheeks, one by one.

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

With a shaky breath, you turned your back to the door and leaned against it. You ignored the painful lance in your heart that threatened to overtake you, along with your panic.

For a while, there was silence. It gave you a reprieve, but it also forced you to be alone with the tumultuous thoughts circling in your head.

Suddenly, the door opened. You backed up all the way to the far wall. In stepped a man in a gray lab coat, as well as two armed guards. One of them was holding a straitjacket.

“Good morning,” said the lab coat. His English was heavily accented. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Who are you?” You tried to sound firm and unshaken, but there was no mistaking your fear as your eyes darted from man to man.

“Eisenstein Sergei. I am a geneticist, by trade,” he said. He gestured at you with a smile that made your skin crawl. “You, beautiful one. You will be part of evolution.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you said, even as your voice trembled.

Eisenstein gestured at the guards, who drew near you. The second you opened your mouth to sing, to scramble their minds, one of them produced an extendable stick with an electric prod on the end. He tased you until you passed out onto the floor.

As you soon discovered, Dr. Sergei Eisenstein was fascinated by supes. He wanted to figure out how they ticked, on a molecular level. So he and his team had made a deal with Vought to acquire Soldier Boy for experimentation. You were an added bonus.

For months, the doctor and his team poked and prodded, cut and burned you, testing the limitations of your advanced healing and pushing your body often far beyond its capabilities.

But they were careful. The straitjacket ensured you couldn’t easily compel any man who drew near to work on you. They all wore gloves, so they didn’t touch your skin. In some ways, their wariness was to your benefit. You were always gagged when they worked on you though, so you couldn’t sing. Eisenstein also once threatened to paralyze your vocal cords if you tried. You were too afraid to tempt him.

As rough as you had it, you were sure it was only scratching the surface of what they did to Ben.

The man was stronger, more durable. The doctor had more leeway to play with him, knowing his toy wouldn’t break.

They now kept him on the other end of the compound, since he’d broken through his first containment unit. They had gassed him with something that made him drop like a stone, putting him to sleep. You weren’t sure what was powerful enough to do it, but you didn’t want to find out.

The first time you heard him screaming, it brought tears stinging in your eyes. Your lips had trembled, and you’d rocked yourself in your cot. You couldn’t help him, let alone yourself. You were surprised to realize that you wanted to help him, even after everything he did to you—after everything you’d seen him do.

It slowly made you realize the truth in your own heart; things you hadn’t wanted to take out and examine, like muddy glass after a storm. Now, with the debris washed away, you could see what you had become, and what all your work, your scraping, your lies and manipulations had gotten you.

Nothing.

It also made you realize that you weren’t as good of a liar as you thought you were. At least, not to yourself. Not when you remembered the quiet moments between you and Ben; the times you wordlessly craved each other’s company, and you laid tucked against his side on the couch with a book while he watched a football game. Or late at night, the times when you gave into sharing a bed with him, and he stared up at the ceiling with a blunt in hand, the two of you lying naked and talking about everything and nothing until you feel asleep.  

Yes, you remembered blood and violence, callousness and cruelty toward Noir and the rest of the team. You knew that was who Soldier Boy was. That was Ben.

It was just hard to reconcile that monster with the man you’d come to know. The man who actually tried to comfort you, even though you hadn’t wanted to be comforted after that accident with a Crimson Countess fan. The man who saved you after you were beaten by a thug, and nearly worse. The man who could be funny, and charming, with hints of gentleness and affection in between.

You supposed you would never know what part of him was real.

But most of all, you remembered the things you’d said to him. You surprised yourself by feeling pinprick needles of guilt up and down your spine.

“I hope I never have to see your face again.”

 You had a feeling that you’d get your wish.

It was six months in before Eisenstein experimented with the first serum. You vomited blood.

It took his team three more years to revise. 

You started to hear voices in your head, snippets of thought instead of just sensing energies. You lied to the scientists, keeping the knowledge to yourself. They had no way to know, so why give them more ammunition against you?

The thoughts you heard were always male, whoever was in close proximity. Your powers seemed to translate them into English, but you almost preferred it to be gibberish. Mostly the thoughts were bland, disgusting, or cold and frightening in their scientific detachment, and even their entertainment…mostly when they worked on Ben. 

It made you sick. You wished you could reach out to him, if just for someone familiar to talk to. You hadn’t learned how to do that just yet. You didn’t even know if you could. You were still figuring out how to just tune it all out when you were sick of the chatter.

Regardless, they kept him too far away, so you rarely heard his thoughts. When you did, they were mostly angry and murderous. You couldn’t blame him. 

Sometimes, just being able to feel his presence, hearing the scraps of his thoughts was enough.

You were left entirely alone with your own.

April 3, 1994

You read the date on the magazine they’d brought for you with bland porridge for breakfast. The publication was in Russian, but you’d begun to pick up on certain words they said, and on the structure of numbers you saw them scribble in their notes. 

Ten years. You really couldn’t fathom it. It didn’t feel real…

Well, actually, it did today. You were almost done with the porridge when the doctor and three guards came in, one with your usual straitjacket.

“Finished then?” Eisenstein asked, nodding at your near empty bowl. “Good. Get her up.”

The command was in Russian, but by now you understood it. You still struggled. You always did. It was no use though. Soon they had you fitted in the jacket and a gag tight around your mouth, with just a couple of cattle prod stings to your side.

They dragged you down the hall farther than usual. You were confused when they passed the usual lab they so often took you to. Instead, Eisenstein opened a metal door.

Inside the room was Ben, strapped to a metal slab against the wall. He was bound in every way, and fully naked. He also had a long, unkempt beard, but you’d recognize that face even in your sleep. Your eyes widened when you met his, your breath caught in your throat. His face slackened in surprise as well.

You hadn’t seen him since before the beginning of the nightmare.

He’d barely aged at all.

The spell of it broke when you were slammed down onto a cold, shiny table. It felt hard as titanium, and you cried out at the impact.

You managed to raise your head. “Ben!”

It was muffled through the gag, but you knew he understood you. His brows furrowed. He looked up at Eisenstein in a glare.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

“You have impenetrable skin, yes? Hard, like a diamond,” he said to Ben. “Even inside your holes, it is…perhaps more sensitive, but still strong enough to stop further experimentation.”

Ben’s lip curled with a sneer.

“But there must be a way to get inside you,” Eisenstein said. He grabbed the back of your neck tightly, making you whimper. He held up the syringe. “Tell me now, or I will give her the serum we had prepared for you. There is good chance it may…let’s say, liquify her insides, but we will have to see. Won’t we?”

He gestured at one of the guards, who tore open the back of your gray gown to expose your back and shoulders. You screamed around the gag and struggled, even with the men holding you down. You fought Eisenstein’s grip to look up at Ben. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and angry.

You had tears in your eyes; they already began to slip down your cheeks. You implored him wordlessly. Ben stared back at you through furrowed brows.

Getting nothing but silence, Eisenstein sighed through his nose, and he turned to you with the syringe.

“Hold her steady.”

You struggled and thrashed in vain.

“Wait!” Ben said, through clenched teeth.

Everyone in the room paused.

Ben lifted his gaze from you and directed it at the doctor.

“My eye,” he said lowly. “Inject it in the corner of my eye.”

Eisenstein’s weathered face broke into a smile. “Ah, clever. Thank you, Soldier Boy.”

Then he pressed the needle into your shoulder, emptying its contents into your bloodstream. You uttered a pained sound at the needle going in. Again, you looked up at Ben in panic.

He tensed in an incredulous anger. “What—”

“Do not worry. It’s just a sedative,” Eisenstein shrugged.

Within seconds, you breathed out a whimper as your eyes closed on you. You went limp. The guards peeled you off the table and dragged you out of the room. It left the doctor with his favorite patient.

Ben wanted to rip the man’s arm from his socket and beat him to death with it. And that was just the latest fantasy on how he’d take the good doctor apart.

“What’ve you been doing to her?” Ben asked, in a tone that demanded. It was the first time he had spoken of you, the first time he had the courage to ask the question that so often plagued his mind.

Eisenstein sighed. “She is not as strong or durable as you, but! She has been able to withstand a good many experiments that have borne fruit.”

Ben’s glare darkened. “You’re a sick fucking bastard.”

“I am a visionary,” the doctor countered. “Can you imagine what your mutations could unlock for science? In biomedicine? Her healing abilities, though limited, could provide the cure to any number of diseases and ailments. Your longevity of life could do the same… Or if not, you will make for Russia’s greatest weapon.”

He stepped back and ushered in his assistants. One of them came with the true serum. Its contents had a light red hue. It looked like poison. Ben struggled in his constraints, grunting and resisting the hand that reached for his face.

“If you do not stay still, we will go to her next,” Eisenstein warned.

Ben panted through his nose. His hardened gaze flicked between the doctor, and the needle coming for his eye.

You heard Ben screaming before you could even open your eyes. You felt it in your chest. In your spirit.

He saved me, you realized, as tears once again stung behind your eyelids.

You also tasted cotton in your mouth. You realized it was because they had thrown you face-first onto your cot. You managed to turn your head so you at least could breathe, but you couldn’t move any of your limbs. Your enhanced healing was the only reason why you were even awake.

Ben…

He broke free.

The pain was too much. Adrenaline was surging through him, and he was able to grab one of the assistants and crush his throat. His furious gaze was set on Eisenstein next, but the fucker ducked out of the room quick.

Ben padded forward on slightly unsteady feet, ripping away the rest of his restraints from the cold metal. He stalked toward the door. Before he could reach it, a hissing plume of Novichok gas flooded the entire cell. 

His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell to the ground. All the while, the serum was working inside him, bubbling and brewing red hot in his chest.

You were lying unmoving in your cot when Eisenstein came in to check on you.

“How is the little bird, doing?” he asked in his native tongue.

He ventured over to you carefully. In one of his hands was a cattle prod, just in case.

“They were careless,” he remarked. He set down the cattle prod to grasp your shoulders, and he rearranged you until you were lying on your back. You were still unresponsive, when the doctor knew for a fact that you should be awake by now. He had your reaction times to certain chemicals perfected to the minute.

He frowned and reached out to hold a gloved finger to your neck, measuring your pulse.

That was when you opened your eyes.

You raised up and headbutted him as hard as you could. Eisenstein cried out and fell to the ground. You followed him there and straddled him. Your hands were still bound by the straitjacket, so you had no choice.

You bent down and distracted him with a disdainful kiss to his lips.

When you next open your eyes, they were glowing violet.

You took control of his mind.

AN: 😬😬😬

Also, get ready for a whopper of a chapter in Part 9. (My favorite one of the series!)

Next Time:

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 9

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[selarina]

Gojo Satoru who’s working undercover at a florist shop. He doesn’t know much about flowers, but he hardly thinks it matters, for this obscure florist shop had remained unvisited since he got here a week ago.

It’s nestled in a quaint corner in the city, hardly noticeable — its inconspicuousness being its very shield as it conveniently found itself in the direct eye line to the building he was assigned to watch.

He thinks Yaga might have sent him here out of spite really, but also he thinks that anything could happen, and he would hate it if he was right so he played his part, if only to thwart the satisfaction of Yaga's potential correctness.

And to really hone it in, it starts raining, the clamorous beats of the rain runs on the roof akin to a cascade of hard stones, ensuring that no soul would venture in at such an hour.

Then, like a shifting scene in a play, the bell above the door chimes, and you enter. You flit through with a slew of apologies about your wetness and the rain. And frankly, you’re really pretty so he couldn't care less about the clean-up.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, a practiced smile forming, one he knew appealed to many. "Hey," he says, threading a casualness into his tone.

"Hi," you reply, gracious in demeanour as you offer a nod to your accompanying greeting.

You bend down, carefully balancing your closed umbrella against the door's ingress, before your eyes start wandering, scanning the shop as you advanced toward the counter.

"How can I help you?" Gojo inquires, upholding the same practiced smile, despite his unfamiliarity with the florist's etiquette.

"Right. Um — I need some roses,” you say, mirroring a smile — courteous and formal. His discerning eye catches a wave of shiver that passes through you. He wishes to offer a coat or warmth of any kind but it remains unfulfilled; he had nothing.

“Of course! Any preference in—" And then his eyes flit to the rose section — stashed with only red today. "Color...?" he concludes, somewhat disjointedly.

Amusement twinkles in your eyes, as they come to meet his. "Well, red, I suppose?"

"Red it is!" he quips, moving with haste as he rushes to get them. He reaches for a fist full of the bunch, promptly placing them on the counter before him.

He catches you staring at the other flowers as he works, your drenched appearance only seemed to amplify how pretty you seem to look.

He smiles, as he talks again, breaking the silence, “So who are these roses for? Parents? Sister? Grandmother — Aw, she's not sick, is she?” He frowns, with a look of pity and you stare back with your eye brows raised — concerned and cautious.

As your silence persisted, he made another attempt. “Um, or are they for a friend?”

An internal chant commenced — Please don’t say boyfriend. Please don’t say girlfriend. Please don’t mention a partner. Please. Please. Please — but he knows he’ll do nothing of it. It’s odd, really. This senseless chase of his.

"Actually," you say, your tone finding a precarious balance as you squint in response. "They're for my boyfriend."

“I hope he dies,” the mutter that leaves his mouth is immediate, and shocking even to him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" you blurted.

Acting swiftly, he retraced his words with fluidity, “I hope he likes... the flowers,” he recants, like the liar he is.

A pregnant pause ensues, a silence ripe with tension.

"Right. Thanks," you managed, your mask of politeness only slightly marred by the odd exchange.

"For valentine's day, ah? Perfect choice," he quips again, with a smile as fake as his enthusiasm.

You don't know what it is that prompts you to speak up but you do. "More of an apology, actually," your tone softening as the confession escaped your mouth.

He responded with a mere hum, as his attention resumed its focus on the flowers before him.

A few beats pass.

"Should you really be working here this late?" you ask casually, your gaze assessing the store for another person, a mentor perhaps. "You seem young."

"Well, you're young too," he retorted. "Should you be out here at this hour?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Nah, Mom's going to kill me, but young love and all that. Sacrifices must be made."

Something twinges inside him — will he ever experience this? Young love? Does he even want to?

"Well, I hope this guy appreciates the gesture if you're going through all this trouble," he adds.

"Yeah, fingers crossed." Your chuckles fluttered after your words nervously.

His fingers reached for satin ribbons, his hands moving deftly, crafting delicate arcs to bind the bouquet tightly.

He held his hand out to you with the bouquet now, wrapped in a simple gossamer wrap, "Well, here you go. I hope they do the trick."

"Thank you," you responded, reaching for your purse. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just a moment," he finally says, disappearing into the back of the shop. He returns with a small card, slipping it into the bouquet with practiced ease. "Here you go."

"Thanks again," your smile was a touch more authentic than the first time.

He smiles, and waves you a little goodbye as you make your way out after paying him. The rain seems to be cleared out and you start making the trek down to your boyfriend's place. And as you walk, there's something within you that nags and nags and urges you to do it.

You pick up the card placed inside the bouquet by the peculiar man you just encountered.

You turn it over, and you notice flowery calligraphy presenting a number, alongside a message: "In case your boyfriend doesn't appreciate the roses. Call me :P"

You could only laugh out loud, like a madman on the street. The sheer audacity of it all.

However, you don't seem to realise how you end up pocketing the card instead of throwing it out at the nearest bin.

Part 2

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

I sometimes see the opinion that MXTX took the clichéd tropes she'd critiqued in Scum Villain, and played them straight in MDZS. But though a lot of them appear in MDZS, I'd argue that none are actually played straight at all!

The main point of MDZS's tropes is subversion. Yes, WWX has a 'tragic backstory', even an arguably overused one (orphaned by his parents at a young age, forced to live on the streets with nobody to rely on, etc) – but how things differ in how it's used. Tragic backstories are normally used to build sympathy for a character, to make us care and get invested in them. But... we're never actually shown any of those street days, we're never shown and never dwell upon how much he suffered during them. They're only really mentioned in passing and whenever dogs come up! If the goal was to make us feel bad for WWX, this would be very ineffective writing. But what's actually important here isn't that WWX went through tragedies – it's how he doesn't let the tragedies he went through define him. He doesn't dwell on them, the narrative doesn't dwell on them, it's never used to earn sympathy points... because what defines WWX is his choices and how he chooses to act, not a backstory completely out of his control. What gets us invested in him is his personality and the character writing of MXTX, not tragic events used as a substitute for identity.

And this trope treatment fits extremely well with WWX's personality itself – he's someone who 'forgets the pain as soon as the wound has healed'*, but also who actively chooses to focus on the present because you can't change the past; someone who holds the belief that 'gains and losses [should] remain uncommented on' when choosing what to do.

The use of the tragic backstory isn't the only thing that's subverted, either – the other main thing is the 'blackening' of the protagonist, and its impact on the protagonist's fall. After being thrown into the Burial Mounds, on a surface level it does seem like this blackening has occurred: the first thing we see when he returns is his gruesome torture of the Wen cultivators; he's 'forsaken' traditional cultivation in favour of an 'evil but more powerful' path; and frankly, Sunshot-era WWX is terrifying. But MDZS is not a blackening story, and so the events of the Burial Mounds aren't used as a catalyst for that purpose. Though it's true that WWX's not entirely the same person he was before (because how could be be?), underneath it all, his morals, worldview and core** stay the same. Though gruesome, his revenge is directed towards the ones who wronged him, not those past that and certainly not the entire world. His experience in the Burial Mounds doesn't lead to him being some evil, blackened overlord... like everyone says he is at the start! That's subverted, because again, WWX's values and choices are more important to the story than genre conventions.

But the most crucial thing? What leads to WWX's downfall isn't any blackening! It isn't any vengeance or morally dubious actions***– he was praised for those things during the Sunshot Campaign! No, what leads to his downfall is something completely unrelated to that, something which would've disappeared had the trope been played straight. It's him doing what's right by defending the Wens, it's him following his moral code when it opposes the world's, it's him standing up to the injustice of others – not others standing up to the injustice of him. That's the subversion here.

(Also, once again, the fall of Lotus Pier, the Burial Mound, etc, aren't used for sympathy points – and if it was relevant, they wouldn't have been used to excuse any actions, either. Using tragic events as an excuse for doing bad things is critiqued many times in MDZS, through characters like Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao. And that's not exactly a trope subversion, but it is a critique of badly handled 'excuses'.)

These are by no means all the tropes MDZS subverts – the nature of guidao vs the usual nature of modao being another very major one – but they're the main ones that feature in Scum Villain.

So, though at first glance MDZS seems to play the tropes MXTX critiqued there straighter, it's not a simple case of using them as cliches, and we see that by how they're used to impact the narrative, and how that differs from what they're traditionally used for. MDZS doesn't fall back into clichés Scum Villain satirised – it's the subversion to Scum Villain's exploration and critique.

--

*Which I know is generally used negatively, to describe someone not learning a lesson from a punishment, but it really describes WWX in general, too. He doesn't dwell on that pain, he does his best to move on from it.

**...heh

***And, because it's often debated – whatever the morality/culpability of Nightless City is doesn't even matter! The events happened at a pledge conference against him that was already taking place. WWX's actions there didn't make people want to kill him because that was explicitly happening beforehand.

[flemingsfreckles]

Yapper

Synopsis: Jessie is a yapper, way more chatty than you ever expected. The only problem is it seems she’s chatty with everyone except you.

Warnings: none, small argument but nothing else

WC: 1.5k

A/N: hi, I was inspired to write this little thing off the fact that Jessie seems to be quite the chatty person in reality, this was a very quick, single sit down a write kind of thing, once again I’m sure there’s a few errors, but my brain is exhausted from work and quite frankly I can’t manage to reread this but I want to post it. I’ll give it another read once I have some rest and fix my errors :)

It had been unexpected to you, learning the fact that the rumored shy and quiet Canadian was in fact chatty, a jokester even. You noticed it on the first day you transferred to the club, Jessie in the locker room wandering around chatting with a few of her teammates before coming over and introducing herself. She quickly moved on, returning to talk to your other teammates.

She talked with everyone, everyone but you. You figured it was because you didn’t know her well, she didn’t know you yet, maybe she was shy, but that thought went out the window when a few other new transfers came in, Arnold, Turner, Hirst, and Jessie quickly made friends with all of them, chatting with them just as much as anyone else.

You decided maybe it was you. Maybe you had been too quiet toward her, you were timid the first few days, maybe you had made a poor first impression with her. Maybe she assumed you didn’t want to talk to her. So your next step was trying to talk to her.

The two of you sat side by side on the bench, she had been subbed out at the half, you shortly after. As you grabbed your bib you slid it over your head and plopped down next to Jessie.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“You played well, the long ball you had, beautiful pass by the way.” You say, smiling and turning toward her.

She turns quickly to look at you, “oh, thanks,” her response is quick before she turns her attention back to the game. She keeps her gaze forward for a minute before leaning over, away from you to talk with a couple other players, never speaking directly to you.

She felt cold. She never voluntarily spoke to you, only out of necessity.

You wanted to talk to her. You found her intriguing. She carried herself with such confidence and yet never came off cocky. She was incredibly intelligent both on and off the pitch from what you had heard. You also couldn’t ignore the fact that the way her cheeks flared red after she ran around wasn’t adorable to you. You couldn’t ignore how you found yourself staring for an extra second when she’d adjust her shorts, how when she laughed you immediately found yourself smiling and looking to see her happy face. You thought Jessie was cute, you wanted to get to know her. But it seemed she was doing everything in her power to prevent that.

It took a couple weeks of debating in your head, do you confront her, ask what had happened, where you went wrong, or did you leave it? You got your answer after a long and grueling training session, a training session where Jessie had said all of three words to you, despite the two of you being paired for multiple drills. You couldn’t hold it in anymore as the team headed in to the locker room.

“Jessie!” You shout at her, she turns around as does Weaver who she’s walking beside. They both stop walking waiting for you to catch up. “Can we talk really quick?” You point in the direction away from where the team was headed. Jessie looks hesitant to respond, looking at you and then Morgan. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard and nods at you.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” She says and Morgan turns to head to the locker room.

She watches as Weaver leaves before turning back to you.

“Hey did I do something wrong?” You didn’t want to come off accusing her of ignoring you, maybe you had done something to upset her, make her mad, make her feel uncomfortable about you. Maybe this was just all your fault.

“What?” She looks confused, eyebrows pushed together, her nose scrunched slightly.

“Did I do something, did I upset you?” You look at her eyes, finding yourself trying to place the color, they were brown and yet in the light of the sunset, nearly golden.

“Why would you think that?” Your attention is pulled from her eyes at the sound of her voice. She blinks hard at you a few times, head cocked to the side, nose still scrunched.

“You talk to everyone, everyone except me, we’ve hardly had conversation beyond the day you introduced yourself and yet you talk and talk to everyone else. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t do something to upset you.”

“I talk to you.”

“Only if it’s necessary Jessie, we sit next to each other on the bench and you hardly say a word but you talk non stop to whoever is on the other side of you. We’ve sat at the same table for dinner, you barely even look at me.” You can feel your throat starting to grow tight, you don’t want to cry over this, it felt stupid but here you were. “It’s just, I feel like I did something wrong.”

“No, no you didn’t.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me, or hell even look at me.” Your voice coming out higher, your frustration beginning to show.

“You make me nervous!” Jessie aggressively shakes her hands out in front of her. You’re taken aback by the raising of her voice. You hardly register the words she said until she repeats them again quieter, “You make me nervous, that’s why.”

“Why?” Your first instinct is to laugh, unsure of why the Canadian would be scared of you, but then nerves set in. Maybe you had tackled her too hard a few times, maybe she wasn’t a fan of how you carried yourself on the field, you were quick to argue a call or stand up for yourself or teammates if crass words were being thrown around.

“You just, you.” Jessie gestures an arm up and down the length of your body. “I, you,” she stutters again for a moment before looking at you with soft eyes. “I, I think you’re really cool, and pretty and uh, I’d like to get to know you better, which obviously doesn’t make sense because I don’t talk to you, but you just, you make me nervous so I’m not even sure how to have a conversation with you.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to prevent the rather cocky smirk from showing on your face. “Are you trying to say you have a crush on me?”

“That makes it sound childish.” Jessie kicks her shoe into the concrete below you both.

“I mean, isn’t avoiding me because you have crush, childish?” You question her. You watch as Jessie’s face falls at your comment, quickly making you realize your poor choice of words teasing her.

“Forget I said anything.” Jessie says as she dips her shoulder to slide past you, heading back down the tunnel.

“Jessie, wait, that’s, no, that came out wrong.” You try to plead with her.

“Just forget it.” She doesn’t turn around but waves her hand behind her back waving you off.

“I have a crush too.” The words stop Jessie in her tracks. She keeps her back to you for a minute. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Jessie to turn or run or laugh, you have no idea what to expect.

She turns slowly, then stops, not walking toward you. You can feel your hands shaking, they’re clammy, you’re sweating and not just from training.

It feels like forever that the two of you stand just looking at each other. Jessie’s expression doesn’t tell you much. She’s blank faced, but you have a feeling your face looks the same. You feel frozen in your body and frozen in time unable to think about anything besides the confession you just gave. You’re not sure why but you decide to repeat it, make sure she hears you.

“I have a crush too.” You say before adding in, “on you, Jessie.”

She still doesn’t say anything, but she lets her head fall backwards, looking up at the ceiling. She lets out a huge puff of air before returning to looking at you, only now a grin is present.

“Really? You have a crush on me?”

“Yes, that's what I said.” Subtly you try to wipe your hands onto your shorts, trying to get rid of the clammy uncomfortable feeling they had.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” You pause for a minute letting your weight shift between your feet, leaning from left to right. “Would you want to get dinner sometime?”

She takes a couple steps forward. You do the same until you’re just a few feet apart. “Yeah, dinner sounds nice, I’d like that.” She nods with the same grin across her face.

“Sounds good, Sunday night?” You’d have a free afternoon and evening Sunday after the home game Saturday, it would be a perfect chance barring any of Jessie’s potential previous plans.

“Yeah, Sunday.” She nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The two of you start walking side by side down toward the lockers. You stick out your elbow, finding Jessie’s side and giving her a kind jab. She looks at you. “Just so you know, a dinner date will require you to talk to me.” You say with a wink before running ahead of her, turning back after a few steps to see the Canadian roll her eyes playfully at you.