#you've massacred my boy

[heavensbled]

Every time Zack does that little giggle I-

[acrylicqueen]

It's really tough being a fan of CATCF but absolutely

LOATHING

Johnny Depp's Wonka

[voxpraxis]

seb was born in scotland in 1874/5 but y'all make him look like he was raised with an iphone in his hand and plays american high school football

every time someone AI generates sebastian into a generic 2023 tiktok model hotboy, a part of my soul dies

[helloledena]

Uh-oh... I'm falling in love~

Synopsis: Kakashi though he had everything under control, especially his feelings. But one ninja from Village hidden in mist was enough to change that. Oh how wrong he was...

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader (but in Kakashi's pov 🙂‍↕️)

Content: fem! reader, slow burn, strangers to "something" to lovers, light smut, mention of depression, lot's of thoughts, lot's of confusion.

Word count: 8.3k (😬)

A/N: Kakashi's character is so complex and hot and hard to write and hot and tragic but hot, so yeah, love him so much *.*

pervert.

When the saleswoman at his favorite bookstore gave him a raised eyebrow, all Kakashi could do was smile while scratching the back of his head in a manner that reeked of humor.

"I understand why you wanted to read Make-out Paradise… but now even the other two books?"

"What can I say, it really drew me in."

"And.. you say you've read it..."

"Yes, I've read it three times already, I think it's time to find out what happens in the sequel, don't you think? Hahaha" he let his body wiggle a little, and his free eye rolled up into a smile.

"Pervert," the girl muttered as she slid off the counter and went to get more books.

The ninja tiredly scanned the other books on display on the counter. The well-known novel "Life of a shinobi: Honor or Death" caught his eye. With a soft sigh, he picked up the book, turned it upside down, and began to stare at the wall clock that didn't actually work.

He would never admit it out loud, but reading an erotic novel, in which the most exciting thing is actually the various lovemaking positions, had become his new favorite way to distract himself. The distraction from the dead bodies he was cleaning after massacre several months prior; from the feeling of total guilt of allowing Itachi, the boy with soft eyes and always a calm expression on his face Itachi, to go and slaughter everyone in his clan; from death of his friends..

Not to speak of it, he realized that nothing calmed him as much as re-reading the same book with the light and warm plot. The fact that he could relive what he knew would end well gave him a sense of comfort that he hadn't experienced in a long time. Life was bearable again. Just a bit. Just a little bit more, he didn't want to kill himself.

"Your books,"  mumbled the saleswoman into her chin, still clearly under the impression, as she quickly took the money from him "enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thank you. Be sure that I will. Ha! I mean... not in that way..." the now blushing girl looked at him as if he had gone completely mad. He felt his own cheeks slowly warming up "well, anyway... I'm going now. You! You have a nice day... really nice day..."

His smiling aura slid at a moment as he left the shop. He put the third part of “Make-Out” in his shoulder bag, while opening the second one as he walked slowly in an unknown direction. What is he gonna do now? Maybe he should go to get some ramen? But he failed to keep Obito's promise, he couldn't save Rin from death, his father wasn't there to see how much he had progressed. Perhaps he could go back to that cursed rock again. Yeah, that seems like better idea.

"Kakashi!!!" he heard Gai shouting for him from a distance "my eternal rival!!!! Come! Let’s see who can drink more sake before nightfall!!"

But he just continued walking, looking at the first page of the book. He reminded himself that if he does not get involved no one would die because of him. If he doesn't intervene, it wouldn't hurt as much if someone from them died. If he doesn't get involved, perhaps those damn stubborn people would finally realize how truly awful person he is.

When he reached the next corner between streets, he was about to run the rest of the way, but a melodic voice froze him in his tracks.

"Are ninjas in this silly village not taught manners?" He turned and saw a girl leaning against one of the buildings at the corner. How, in the hell, hadn't he noticed her presence before? He decided to let his visible eye wander into a something that seemed like smile.

"I really don’t know what you’re talking about…"

"Pfft" the girl continued to lean her head against the wall, staring at Kakashi with a smirk on her face; her relaxed body language contradicted the words she spoke to him, as if she wasn't intimidated in the slightest "The famous copy ninja Kakashi Hatake, known to all bounty hunters, his name written in more bingo books than can be counted... Yet, you appear to be even more of a creep than the old man who wrote that perversion you're reading"

Kakashi felt strange at her words, gripping his kunai knife tightly in the pocket of his pants. Was she an enemy? He quickly surveyed the area suspiciously as he seemed to be merely searching for a more comfortable way to stand. Hidden Mist Village headband... what the hell?

"Well.." now he was looking cautiously in the direction of the girl "you talk about manners, and you didn't introduced yourself... very hypocritical, don't you think?"

"Hmmm" the girl smiled again, and then pulled out a scroll from her pocket that opened in front of Kakashi "I have permission. And besides, I'm done with my work for now, so I’ll be leaving today. I was just wondering if you really are as cold hearted as everyone says..."

"And?" he looked away from the scroll, returning his gaze to the book that he still held open in his left hand "are they right?"

"I can only say that I'm disappointed" he felt the girl shrug her shoulders "well, see you next time, pervert."

He just hummed. Before he turned and continued walking towards that cursed, stupid rock, he heard the voice again.

"Oh, and did you hear," he looked and she was smiling very widely; something hot filled his stomach "that now the 4th part is being written? I mean, the creepy old man... you already know who I'm talking about."

She winked and disappeared from his sight as silently as she had come. As he continued to observe the now empty space where she had been a second ago, he felt feverishly lucky that he had not learned the girl's name. And if something happened to her, her name would not appear before his eyes in his nightmares.

mercy.

It was the 4th day of the chunin exams and Kakashi couldn't sit and wait any longer. The link with the birds that were relaying information about the happenings had been cut since Orochimaru had magically appeared, then disappeared. He felt nervous. He felt nervous and noticed that it came out in the way he peeled an orange, in the way he would grip the doorknob when he left the room to get some air, and in the way his leg bounced every now and then.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh with Iruka a few days earlier, saying that his students were now warriors. But he knew that if he had shown even a fraction of the insecurity he felt, his decision would not have carried the authority that now have. So because he wanted his ego to remain intact he left the company of the other jonin, who would probably feel his nervousness at any moment, then climbed onto the roof of the Hokage building and let the sun caress him.

They have the best chance to survive in the shinobi world if they ruthlessly face every obstacle. They have the best chance to survive in the shinobi world if they ruthlessly face every obstacle. I did not send them to their deaths. I did not send them to their deaths. Kakashi repeated those sentences to himself more than he would like to admit.

With big sigh he opened the 3rd book of Make-Out and stared blankly at the pages.

"Hahahaha, wait, wait, you're still reading that nonsense? How long has it been? 4 years?"

His smile curved beyond his will, though she didn't see it because of his mask. He didn't hear her when she got closer to him, like few years prior. How wonderful...

"And who are you?" he looked at her now with his head tilted to the side.

"Oh, that hurts, you know" said the girl with a sneer in her voice, sliding next to him "I know I'm not that *ultra famous* like you are, but we've already met. Plus even I have a target on my head now. These criminals' bingo books, blah blah" and Kakashi was aware of that. When he was in the Land of Waves on a mission with his team, about a month ago, he took Zabuza's bingo book with him. As he flipped through the pages he saw a familiar face, although for a moment he was slightly unsure if it was the girl he met a few years ago. The scar on her cheek was new...

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

Name: y/n

Rank: unknown, approach with caution

Village of Origin: A Hidden Mist village, Land of Water

Known Techniques: water manipulation, blood manipulation

Orders: wanted dead or alive

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

"Ah, many new faces lately..." he cooed while watching over village in those quiet moments. How the hell she keep finding him when he is alone? And he didn’t have much alone time since becoming leader od Team 7.

"By the way, your kids are holding up well there, as far as I could see" - now he looked at her "if I hadn't seen other things in my life, I would say that they are very young. But we both know it could have been worse. They'll finish the obstacle... they had that crazy determined look in their eyes about half a day ago."

"Search birds are not working for 3 days now."

"Ah well, we "watermen" don't use birds for surveillance. That's what you should have learned at your sweet little academy."

"The fact that you're not on the organizing team for this exams and yet have your own means of monitoring shouldn't surprise me?" Kakashi knew more than he asked. The ninja of the Village Hidden in the Mist were not at all interested in the official ninja ranking that the other villages held so dearly. They were ruthless warriors, deadly as soon as they left the academy, probably even then at chunin level. Now this is simply gathering information… he was aware of that from the moment the first registration from that village for the chunin exams in the last 7 years came. Only Kakashi wanted to know why…

"You know" the girl now closed her eyes and laid so still for a few minutes that the copy ninja thought she fell asleep "even though the rest of the ninjas in my village are furious because of what happened to Zabuza, I'm very grateful to you. I mean, I really wasn't the least bit touched by anything that happened to that... that.. him. But the way you treated Haku's body…"

Kakashi felt his stomach acid rising in his throat. Haku... another mistake of his. Another victim of chidori that shouldn't have been. Haku had a soul as pure as snow, Haku should have escaped... Haku shouldn't have ended up like Rin.

"In any case" now she opened her eyes, slightly teary, keeping Kakashi rooted in place "you showed mercy that our village has not experienced in a long time. Thank you for that. Especially since it was a boy who was kind."

Kakashi let out a soft breath although to his ears it was almost as loud as a scream. No one had ever seen him that way. No one had ever called him merciful... He felt dizzy... what the hell was this woman doing to him...

"Didn't you say last time that you made sure I'm cold-blooded like everyone says?"

"I think I actually said that I was disappointed. And by disappointed, I meant that I was expecting someone with a dirty aura, and I got something completely opposite."

Kakashi hummed, now loking at the village. But still feeling her eyes on him.

"And didn't you say you don't remember me?"

"Huh. Tushe."

stupid distraction.

Ever since he saw y/n at the time of chunin exams, Kakashi actually, even 6 months later, hasn't stopped seeing her. It turns out that y/n has actually been in high demand in the Lands of Water since last January, with a huge bounty on her head. Words circulated that with her blood manipulation, she forced the Mizukage's own brother to cut himself bit by bit with his blade until he died by his own hand in a pool of blood. Rumor has it that she left a letter written in his blood which said that his death was compensation for the rape of the girls from the Village Hidden in the Mist, one of whom is her cousin. Since blood revenge is completely justified in the villages of more southern longitude, the Mizukage made all the criminals of those villages duty to kill y/n on the spot or bring her alive. That's why she is in all bingo books.

He hadn't heard much about on whose permission she was in Konoha before, but when Tsunade came back and became Hokage she gave y/n asylum and declared her an auxiliary force. It turns out that during the chunin exams, she helped the village a lot in monitoring the enemy even though she didn't have to and therefore Tsunade befriended her very quickly.

What Kakashi really couldn't understand at the begining was how everyone got close to her so quickly. He found himself pretty often following y/n as she moved around Konoha, looking for anything that would make his suspicion justified. He watched when she stops by the market for fresh fruits and veggies, or talks to Kurenai in the street with a big smile, or when she practices her water control by the stream next to half a kilometer from the memorial stone. He wished he could just stand next to her and feel the warmth radiating from her up close again as she squirmed when she talked.

Which was out of the question now, sure, because she didn't want to talk to him anymore. But it certainly didn't stop him from being attracted to her warmth. Of course, it wasn't like that for the whole 6 months, it even seemed to him that she enjoyed being in his company for the first month. She kept popping up, each time making no sound as usual and going on and on about how Naruto had gotten stronger, how Kakashi needed to be more gentle with Sasuke, how maybe it was better for Sakura to learn 1 on 1 new techniques to help her reach personal, not someone else's potential. She told him how in her village she liked to go to the banks of the harbor early in the morning and look for children who were fishing by themselves and to use her "magic" to pull out a few fish. They would laugh and call y/n princess of the sea. With a very serious expression on her face she listed endless crazy reasons why Kakashi could wear a mask and swore in front of everyone present (even though they were actually alone) that one day she would find out what his face looked like. And when she talked she was beautiful.. actually, she was always beautiful. He mostly listened in silence, allowing the warm feeling in his chest to grow little by little with each of their conversations. He realized that he began to take the path to the memorial stone more often where there was a better chance of her jumping out. Once, she even came along with him as far as the stone itself, bowed and stood quietly for a while before whispering "at least you have a place to mourn your loved ones."

 However, that huddled routine that Kakashi looked forward to more than he'd like to admit stopped 10 days after Sasuke disappeared, and he ran into her for the first time after the failed mission. "You shouldn't blame yourself, you did everything you could" she was silent for a few minutes "I don't think you really could have stopped him.. you said yourself that Sasuke was stubborn. If you managed to bring him home, the question is whether he would still want to be a part of the team...". When Kakashi was still silent and tried to turn and leave she spoke again "When I lost my cousin I couldn't sleep for days, I blamed myself and wanted to die. But I realized that what was happening to us was inevitable, if she had survived then maybe the Mizukage would have sent his guards and...” “You trying to cover your guilt with failed excuses shows what person you are like.. I will not live in such a miserable field” when the anger came out of him with that sentence Kakashi realized how wrong he was and tried to speak again, but a cold "I got it, go bathe in guilt if that's what you want" cut him off with eyes that glared at him. Y/n left after that and didn't speak to him again to this day.

So he was left to watch her from a distance. In moments when he felt lonely he blamed her. He often let his frustration get the better of him and then tried to talk to others about his doubts and pin his ugly feelings on y/n. Unfortunately for him, everyone loved her, starting with Gai who was finally getting a talkback about the flower of youth and someone with whom his passionate level would be similar.Kurenai finally felt close to a female ninja and laughter could always be heard from Tsunade's office when she was in. Genma showed a closeness to her like he hadn't with anyone in a long time... Kurenai even mentioned that they went on a date after some difficult mission. Which is perfectly fine and didn't leave Kakashi choking on a feeling he hadn't felt before at all. Hot again, but not in a nice way, it even felt a little like anger. And now he was standing in the Hokage's office wondering how a ninja with chakra that was impaled on a water core could cause so much fire.

"Well Kakashi, it's time for another S-rank mission" Tsunade smiled at him, holding sake in her left hand. It was already dusk and her paperwork work was due in about an hour, so her advisors weren't in the room "I hope you had enough time to rest."

"And if I said I didn't, it wouldn't change the situation much" he wasn't looking anywhere in particular while keeping his hands in his pockets. He was on the last mission for a full 3 weeks. Of course he was chakra exhausted. Of course he felt tired. Of course he wanted to do nothing but sleep, read Make-out, and visit the memorial stone. And check out what y/n is doing…

"You know yourself that the level of missions has increased since the death of the 3rd Hokage and the destruction of the village. All our enemies strike us now because they're hoping to catch us in weakness. Unfortunately we don't have enough jonin to cover the steady increase in S rank missions...so there is no time for long breaks. This one is especially hard, so you'll get an escort."

"Ah, escort..." now he was looking at the ceiling, how interesting tiles... "didn't you say that sending couple jonin rank ninjas on a mission is a waste of resources? That it should be done only in exceptional cases? Or you've actually started caring about me? In that case my heart is about to break…"

"This is an exceptional case, Kakashi" Tsunade got up from the chair and sat on the table directly observing Kakashi "the fact is that many jonin go on missions with their genin and chunin and they consider it a kind of vacation, because all those missions are B rank at worst. However, that privilege has been taken away from you since Sasuke escaped and Naruto went to train who knows where with Jiraiya" when she noticed that Kakashi would not respond to her remark she sighed deeply and continued "since this mission involves going into enemy territory you will take escort."

"Enemy territory?"

"Land of Waves to be precise. Y/n was already notified this morning that she has been assigned an S rank mission and will need to be your guide and support."

"Y/n?!" Kakashi felt his anger spreading through his body, so he tried with all his might, fists clenched in his pockets, to calm his breathing; he spoke very slowly and quietly "y/n has a huge bounty on her head in those villages. Or did you miss that? They will kill her as soon as she gets close."

"The scroll that was stolen is very important to Konoha, Kakashi " she held the tip of the nose with her eyes closed "y/n knows the risk and she accepted it. It was her duty at the end of the day" as she looked at him determinedly "as it was yours to take orders from the Hokage. You have a mission to complete, and for efficiency you'll bring a guide with you, who, if I must remind you, is also a jonin who does S-rank missions. You will take care of each other."

"You can't send her with me" he couldn't stop his legs from getting a little closer to her "you can't send her there, it will only be a big distraction."

"The decision has been made" she handed him the scroll looking at him resolutely "the deadline for the mission is 1 week. If you do not return by then, help will be sent to you. All the details are in the scroll, I expect a successful report when you return. That's it, you can go."

"But, Lady Tsunade –"

"That's it Kakashi" a small crack was heard from the wood of the table that cracked under Tsunade's pressure "you can go."

Damn it he thought.

i’m so sorry.

"Of course you're late" y/n looked at Kakashi leaning against the wall of village gate, her bag on the floor between her legs.

"You won't believe what an infestation of angry geese was in front of my house" he smiled at her, scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, yes. Move then..." she just walked away leaving him standing there for a few moments staring at her. He wondered if she knew where he was going before every mission. He wondered if she could see through his acting with that haunting gaze.

-

After few hours passed, in not so pleasant but endurable silence, air was getting colder. Kakashi felt his fingers slowly tingle, frantically trying to warm them in his pockets.

"Fuck.." muttered next to him y/n holding a finger in the air that was covered in water and her chakra "fuck, fuck."

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, observing their surroundings. They were around 25 kilometers away from Konoha for a pretty short time because they were running most of the way wanting to reach the border of Land of Water by evening. It's only about an hour to the small town. They were currently in an open area and Kakashi desperately wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible.

"Once every few years Land of Water gets a period of so-called „false winter“"y/n blurted out through her teeth, keeping her gaze still on the water that was wrapped around her finger "you see? There is a thin layer of hoarfrost gathering on the surface. It's not cold enough to freeze, but maybe, in 2 days, it will be enough."

"And what do those winters look like? Should we expect snow?"

"Probably not. The problem with this winters is that they are very cold and wet. On the other hand they never last more than a week. But people freeze to death because winters come so suddenly, so we have to be very careful. And of course, to return home as soon as possible."

"Clearly..." Kakashi spoke in a moment, swearing at his fate. This mission probably couldn't get any worse.

He watched y/n wipe hands on her pants, and warming the hand she had attached the water to by slowly blowing into it. He couldn't resist the urge and slowly put his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with a look that almost brought him to his knees. Honest, clean, which allows the color of her eyes to completely come to the fore.

"Don't worry" he said quietly, now in some incomprehensible fear of not scaring her further, and with a huge desire to slowly dance his fingers on her face... to get rid of every concern "we will finish this mission successfully. Everything will be alright."

"Mhm" the girl in front of him uttered a falsely cheerful voice "and even if something happens, you won't have to swim in pool of pathetic excuses so I'm not even worried about you" she slipped out of his touch with the speed of an eye blink "it's time to go and find a room if we don't want to sleep in the cold."

"Y/n..." he tried

"Come on" she interrupted him already ready for a new round of running "don't lose sight of me."

-

When they arrived at the room they had barely rented as it was the last one in a shack at the very end of a famous town, within reach of a Village Hidden in Mist, Kakashi thanked every exalted being that existed for the 2 large separte beds in their room. As he made the beds, placed the maps on the floor of the room, took the food out of his bag, he listened to the sound of the shower coming out of the bathroom and suddenly he felt terribly hot. Although he had never been intimate with a woman... or anyone really, out of constant fear of getting hitched and that person dying, Kakashi actually often felt very lustful. It had appeared in flashbacks before, when he saw a pretty girl at one of his missions, when he passed a public women's bath, when he was reading his books... however he had never wanted something or someone so much that it made him act on that lust. The present moment, on the other hand, was driving him completely insane. Yes, he thought y/n was very very beautiful and her strong character was surprisingly attractive. He thought her smile was as sweet as honey and there was nothing warmer than her beautiful disposition. And yes, sure, one time when they happened to be together in a bar with mutual friends, not talking to each other of course, he got surprisingly turned on by one look at her bare legs. Although now he thought that that arousal could not even be considered arousal because what he was feeling right now was 10 times stronger. When he realized that if he continued like this he would either go crazy, or unwillingly go and do something.. with her, or cum within a full minute Kakashi went into deep concentration considering the mission.

After a few minutes y/n came out in a plain t-shirt and shorts, no bandages on her arms and legs so now he could see a lot of small cuts on the lenght of her arms. He felt that she could see that he was looking at her and he just kept his eyes on her waiting for her to speak.

"We have very hard endurance training as kids" y/n muttered noticing Kakashi is staring at her "they're not as gentle with us at the academy as they are with you. Especially if you are female."

"I understand" he looked at her with full attention "it must have been difficult for you."

"Of course it was" she threw herself on the bed with a sigh, letting her wet hair fall on the pillow "although we don't talk much about it. What happened happened."

"Does it bother you that I saw?" he left the question floating in the air. Her thighs were dripping with water that she hadn't wiped off. He wondered what it would feel like to run his lips over them.

"No" she fell silent a little and looked him directly in the eye "even though I don't agree with you about some things, I believe you. I've seen how you treat others. You always put someone else's life before your own and I really appreciate that. So the result is that I'm not ashamed of who I am right now. At least not in front of you."

Kakashi's legs walked on their own towards the bed where y/n lay. He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to kiss every cut on her body, he wanted to show her that she can show her vulnerable side. When she saw him coming towards her y/n sat down in a meditation pose leaving room for the ninja to sit on the other end of the bed which he did. When some time had passed Kakashi removed the headband from his other eye and looked at her with both eyes open. He noticed how the girl in front of him was trying like hell not to stare at his sharingan now, her eyes darting left and right as she paid attention to both eyes.

"I'm so sorry" mumbled Kakashi "I'm so fucking sorry for what I said the last time we spoked. If I could, I would do everything differently."

She watched him quietly. Then uncertainly reached out a shaky hand and touched his scar just below his eye which made Kakashi wince. What the hell was he thinking?! If she wanted to, she could have dug out his eye and taken it to the enemy!

"Sleep. Tomorrow is a tough one" he spoke harshly when, without looking at her again, he stood up and went to take a shower. Then hating himself, he entered the room again and saw her pretending to sleep with slightly red eyes from crying.

regrets.

The next day, they were already passing few small communites, moving through the Land of Waves. They only had a few more hours of walking left before they entered the Village Hidden in the Mist, and darkness was already slowly falling. Both of them had bought long coats on their way out of the city, so that the cold, which was slowly but surely getting into their bones, could be endured. However, Kakashi was feverishly aware of one thing – this all seemed too easy. They hadn't encountered a single ninja so far, there was no sign of anyone noticing who y/n was and the road was passable without control.

"Probably because of the cold " y/n mumbled trying to gather the cold mist into droplets on her palm when Kakashi shared his worries with her "I told you people doesn't handle it well enough in these parts."

"Hmm" he watched as the mist and chakra slowly danced and merged at the tip of her palm, making water "it would certainly be good if we didn't linger here for much longer. Considering how in demand you are here and how cold it can be."

"It's good that we left most of the things in that hut" now she let the water slowly drip from her fingers "being overloaded would only slow us down. And since sleeping in any hut here is not an option because of our bountys, and sleeping outside is not because of the cold, we can only finish the mission tonight and return to the hut tomorrow night."

"Sure thing, lady" he hummed.

-

It was the dead of night when they were half a kilometer from the base, which did not seem protected. Guards were probably inside because of the cold, Kakashi thought. The fog enveloped them and honestly suffocated him slightly even with the mask he always wore. When the wind blew, it would whip his face and make him shake for a moment. It was very cold. He watched as y/n looked at the white rabbit with small cut on right ear in confusion, crouching. He took out his kunai sorry little guy.

"No" she spoke quietly next to him "white rabbits are not always a distraction... don't worry."

"I hope you didn't trick me...trust me i will find out and it won't end well for you."

She glared at him, tilting her head to the side... a sarcastic smile moved to adorn her lips.

"How are you not ashamed?" she whispered, but because of the silence of the night he heard her very well "I sacrificed myself for your village in this half year than for mine my whole fucking life" she poked him in the chest with her finger "I was more polite to you than you deserve. And I would have fucking killed you in your sleep last night if I wanted to."

"You remained as fiery and hot as the last time I saw you" spoke a voice from the shadows behind them. Kakashi lifted his headband and grabbed the shuriken in his pockets. However a stiff y/n caught his attention more.

"Y/n" the copy ninja cracked "y/n what's going on?!"

"Shino..." she whispered confusedly looking into the darkness. How the hell do these swamp ninjas manage to be so damn quiet??

"What's up beautiful," out of the darkness, where y/n was looking, a tall ninja came out with the band of the village hidden in the mist hanging around his neck. His entire body except face was covered in bandages and a blade similar to Zabuza's was attached to his back… this is not good "you know I missed you."

"You tried to kill me" Kakashi watched y/n holding outstretched hand in front of her, chakra on the surface of her palm trembled slightly "I trusted you and you tried to kill me."

"Princess" a sneer was heard in his voice, he raised both hands above his head as if he wanted to show her that he did not want to hurt her "business is business, nothing personal."

"I loved you and you tried to kill me" her voice trembled as she turned her hand upwards and the ninja fell to his knees still with a smile on his face, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight

Kakashi tried to use the Sharingan to quickly assess the situation, but realized that there was nothing to be gained from it. The fog was too thick, the night was too dark and he didn't fucking know what to do. Should he summon Pakun? Should he kill the asshole on the spot?

"I see you still like bad boys, princess. But you yourself know that in the end you are regretted by everyone, in the end everyone sees how weak you are." Shino spoke with difficulty on his knees, a grimace on his face, probably due to blood manipulation "you still chose none other than Kakashi of sharingan. I'm impressed" he was looking at Kakashi now, a dirty smile returning to his lips "you know the redwater brothers want you dead ever since you killed Zabuza... that wasn't nice of you Kakashi."

"Ah, business is business, isn't it, nothing personal" Kakashi smiled with his eyes.

"Hah" Shino looked at y/n again "honestly, I never even loved you. What has to happen happens."

Then several things happens at once. Kakashi saw the ninja on his knees turning into water with his sharingan, and heard rustling behind them. Fucking water clone.

"Fucking shit -" Kakashi whispered furiously under his breath, quickly turning on his heels and activating chidori. A few seconds passed before he stood behind y/n shielding her back and pierced the spot where Shino's heart was with his chidori. The ninja fell from his hand, along with his blade with a dull thud. Kakashi turned to look at y/n who was looking at him with wide eyes and felt a searing pain in his chest. With a low curse he fell to his knees as he realised that he was almost cut open in half.

"No!" y/n shouted as she quickly knelt in front of him with her hands glowing with chakra "Kakashi, Kakashi, keep your eyes on mine."

Is this it? He thought as his head reeled. Although his eyes seemed to be open, he saw nothing. He only heard the soft sound of chakra vibrating somewhere nearby and shallow breats. Maybe some whimpers. But he wasn't sure.

"Kakashi! I will never talk to you again if you die now" a distant soft voice cracked "I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you."

"I l-lied" he spoke quietly, not sure if she heard him at all, but he tried anyway "you are very brave... so brave it scares me... So, of c-c-course you are not week. Of course you're not a dis-straction. Of course I don't regret going here with y-you."

"Look at me, I'm begging you."

The last atoms of power Kakashi focused on what appeared to be y/n's face. When his vision sharpened a little he saw a smile or a twitch, he wasn't quite sure, and the beautiful color of the eyes that he had come to love so much.

"You are so beautiful."

lavander.

When Kakashi woke up in a dark room that smelled of lavender he was sure he was dead. He tried to blink hard a few times and shake the sleep from his eyes before he managed to sit up. His mask was still there, though he was dressed in plain clothes and covered with a thick blanket. Although he was warm, the air in room was cold. He realized that he was in the hut where he and y/n had left their things before they went to the Land of Waves. When he turned to the right he saw lavender in a pot and a small letter. He took the letter and began to read.

By all accounts you should wake up before I’m back. I left medicinal herbs, tea and food on your table. Don't even think of touching the bandage. I managed to sew up the wound completely, but it's better that the bandage soaked with medicinal water stays until I return, just in case. Of the flowers in the local flower shop, there were only lavenders because of the winter, I hope you are not allergic. Hehe. I went to get that stupid scroll and finish the mission so I'll be back soon. Don't follow me. You lost a lot of blood and strength. Please wait. I'll be back, trust me.

P.S. I didn't peek under your mask. Pinky promise.

-

Those few hours in which Kakashi drank all the tea, ate all the food and thought about the best way to go after her, felt like days. He realized with great amazement that y/n had somehow managed to heal entire wound which now only itched, not hurt. He felt very exhausted as he looked out the window at the rain falling wrapped in a blanket. It must have been terribly cold outside. How many days did he sleep? How is y/n? Is she hurt? What if they catch her and kill her? What if she's already dead? How many days has she actually been out of the hut? If she is dead he will kill everyone who is responsible. But he is responsible... He let his guard down and let that jerk almost kill him and that's why y/n is out there alone now. He won't be able to live with himself if she's dead. He was too tired. He will rest for only half an hour more and then he will leave. Towards her. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

Knock knock.

Kakashi stood up with his heart pounding. They found him. But if they found him that means they will wait there for y/n to come back and then kill her easily. He took the kunai, opened the sharingan eye and cautiously approached the door. He wouldn’t let that happen. When he flung open the door he saw y/n with gentle eyes watching him, a scroll in one hand, a Shino’s blade in the other. She was wearing a normal ninja uniform and was soaked to the core. Y/n smiled widely at him but fatigue was very visible on her face. Her body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold.

"Oh thank heavens, you're awake" it came as sigh from her lips "I didn't want to drop any of this on the floor. Sorry if you had to get up. Everything went smoothly. Mission is complete."

He quietly helped her inside, took the things from her hands and put them on the floor. When he went to turn on the shower so that somehow hot water would warm up y/n he realized that there was no use because the water had frozen in the pipes.

"The shower doesn't work" he rasped and realized that it was probably the first thing he had said in days "change into something dry. We need to warm you up."

Kakashi then placed 2 blankets over each other on his bed and pulled y/n who was now only in a t-shirt and shorts (because that was the only thing dry) into bed with him. He hugged her tightly, limbs completely intertwined, his hands rubbing hers, trying to bring some warmth back into her body. All this with full awareness of how she was lying next to him in just shorts and a t-shirt. He fought the growing erection in his underwear, thinking about anything but the woman in his arms that he wanted more than anything else.

"I thought you were going to die" she spoke quietly against his chest, probably more to herself than to him, but he certainly heard her very clearly.

"You saved my life, Thank you" he mumbled against her hair.

Now she cocked her head hard and fast locking her eyes with his, fire in them, just the way Kakashi loved it.

"If it wasn't for you, I would be dead" she snapped angrily, holding his gaze with hers, now he kept his sharingan eye open "I just did one tolerable, but miserable thing."

"You are extraordinary. Really. I’m all heald now thanks to you. When I woke up today I felt like whole new person. Thank you" he lightly touched her cheek with his hand "And I don't know if that went through your crazy little head, but the last thing I want is to let people I care about die while I'm just watching from the sidelines. That very much includes you."

As if momentarily embarrassed, she looked away from him and brought her head back to rest on his chest. She breathed deeply.

When he noticed that the normal temperature was slowly returning to her body and the shivers stopped being so strong Kakashi let out a soft laugh.

"I don’t believe a thing you say,"

"What?" y/n cocked her head again looking into Kakashi's one open eye with a confused expression. That made him grin even wider.

"I don't believe you didn't look under the mask."

The girl in his arms scoffed looking at him with mocking eyes "My curiosity is big, but not so much that I want to play dirty. If i really wanted to see what's underneath I'd make you show me yourself."

"And?" Kakashi felt his breath slowly run out of anticipation "do you want to see it that badly?"

She looked at his mask silently then studied his open eye.

"You want to show me?" she asked quietly, and he just continued to watch her, with an unknown glow. She slowly removed both hands from the blanket and ran her fingers to the top of his mask. Her hands were shaking slightly and Kakashi realized with something, ah here it is again, very warm in his stomach that she wasn't shaking from the cold this time. Y/n slowly removed the mask from his face as he watched her carefully. When the whole cloth was finally removed, she sighed deeply. A soft smile graced her lips.

"Ah, what a disappointment" her gaze circled all over his face "nothing of the huge lips and horse teeth."

Kakashi felt his lips curl into a smile. He hugged her a little tighter.

"You are so beautiful. Gorgeous even." she looked him in the eye and now he was terribly, terribly hot all over. No one ever addressed those words to him. His body just moved closer to her until her lips were only inches away from his. He felt her breath brush his lips. He was waiting for her to do something… anything.. to give him the green light. Because no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't move on his own. Such tender and fragile moments were not frequent in his life, and suddenly he was terribly afraid of breaking this too. However when y/n pressed her lips to his all worries were quickly erased from his mind.

They kissed deeply and slowly as he ran his hands all over her body. He made sounds he didn't know he was capable of, but realized that nothing compared to her sighs and moans from the kiss. He slowly moved from her lips to her neck which he had been watching for so long as they talked months from now, taking deep breaths.

"How perfect you are" he murmured as she melted in his arms. She ran her hands first over his shoulders, then his back, finally letting her hands go under his shirt. He moaned burying his head deeper into her neck.

"Kakashi..." came out of her mouth like a plea, as if it was too much for her.

"I know y/n, I know," he breathed a big, hard sigh as he held her hips tightly so she wouldn't move against him anymore. It was very clear to him that she felt how much he wanted her. And he now wanted her to show her how much he wanted her "can I touch you?"

She looked at him with a warm look and red cheeks, then nodded briskly.

He let his hand dance from her neck, over her stomach, down to her lower abdomen where he pressed his hand firmly.

He kissed all over her hands, all the little cuts he'd seen just a few days before.

"Perfect. So fucking perfect. Lift your hips for me pretty girl" he whispered softly.

When he took off her shorts and realized how wet she was, he almost cummed In his pants at that moment.

He just touched her enterance briefly and she moaned leaning into his touch. Nothing has happened yet and he was so fucking turned on. Turned on by her smooth skin, maddening smell, her sighs, moans... This is 100x better than any erotic novel. He slowly kissed her clit, than licked it experimentally. Y/n closed her eyes and left her hands flying to his hair, hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

'Look at me, let me see you" he darkly whispered against her pussy, looking at her with his both eyes. He then licked and sucked her swollen clit, eyes never leaving hers, making her moaning mess.

"Fuck Kakashi, fuck" she cried pressing one hand against her mouth, than changing mind and letting that hand grip on his hair too "i need you now. Please."

He stopped for a second watching her.

"Are you.. -"

"Yes, yes, and don’t you fucking dare to leave now."

"Sure thing pretty lady" he smiled against her heat.

He took his time, exploring every exposed piece of skin now that he took her t-shirt off too. He blinked open the sharingan again and he was so damn happy that he could predict how she would react to every touch. He looked at her; sprawled out underneath him, with her face flushed, lips swollen.

"Have I ever told you that you are perfect?" he had that boyish smile now, looking at her lovingly.

"Pervert" she grinned while kissing him quickly.

"Ah yes" he left few kisses to her neck again "I remember you calling me that a few times" he put his fingers on her clit making her to squirm with embarrassment.

"Please Kakashi" her voice was so fucking sweet "I need you. Please."

"Need you too" he mumbled against her lips "so much. My beautiful girl."

Then all he could feel was her. She clouded all five senses and he felt like he was going insane. It was over far too quickly.

"Madness" he whispered in her ear and nuzzled her neck, thrusting deep and steady "you are madness."

He gave a few last thrusts and reached down with his hand to help her finish. It wasn’t long until she was writhing and whimpering underneath him.

He kissed the top of her head before he pulled her into him protectively, feeling sleepy. Enjoying the feeling of her skin flush against his, her sweet smell and now steady breaths he felt his body completely relaxing.

As he slowly drifted off to sleep he asked quietly against her hair "do you want to go out sometime?"

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[walpu]

Happy birthday Aventurine

...in which he finds himself enjoying his birthday for the first time after he lost everything

notes - gn!reader, was written with a stellaron hunter!reader in mind but it's not specified just know you're considered a criminal in this one, pre-canon, unestablished relationship with a flavor of pining, angs, hurt/comfort, no beta

Love my birthday boy

He doesn't celebrate his birthdays. Not since the day he lost everything. How can he celebrate the joy of his birth if on this day all the joy was taken away from him?

Born on the blessed day, he's Mother Goddess's beloved child. But why did she abandon her people then? Why it had to happen on the day they were celebrating her, on the day they were supposed to be saved? How can he see himself as something other than cursed, how can he see the day as something other than tragedy?

Anyhow, even if he would want to celebrate, for the first years after the massacre he didn't even have the opportunity to do so. And if he could, he would rather mourn his people, his family. But no, he can only focus on his survival, trying to fulfill the promise he gave to his sister.

Now, standing in the lonely hotel room, he can only smile bitterly at the sight of beautifully decorated cake Jade has send him. How ironic, wasn't she the one who told him to forget his name and his past? Perhaps she simply doesn't look at this the same way he does. "You can't change what happened but you can celebrate that you're still here", she would probably say. He envies her ability to brush off sentiments, really.

Now, when he is no longer Kakavasha but Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts, he was deliberately choosing to ignore this day. It has nothing to do with his new self.

He may still hold onto his mother's necklace, his father's shirt, the promise he gave to his big sis. But this day? He doesn't need it. He doesn't need another reminder of the moment he lost everything.

That's what he tells himself, ignoring the pain in his chest, trying to bury himself in the work, running away on a mission he insisted on taking, even if was supposed to be his day off.

Still, he gets the cake. This stupid reminder of the worst day in his life.

It honestly feels like a joke. He doesn't even have anyone to eat this with!

He knows Jade didn't try to mock him, she's pragmatic, not crue. But aeons, it does feel like mockery still.

So he sits with this stupid cake in front of him, not really knowing if he should just throw it away. Somehow it feels... wrong. Wasteful. He knows how stupid that thought is, both him and Jade are rich enough to buy thouthands of those cakes. Yet he can't help but remember how his mom and sister would go out of their ways to give him something nice for his birthdays, something that could be considered a treat, a gift. Now he can have everything he wants but... they won't be there to share it with him.

No one is there to share it with him.

... at least he thinks so. Up until the moment the window opens from the outside (eighteenth floor, mind you) and a very familiar figure jumps in.

He really can't help but smile. Not only out of habit but because your ability to sneak in anywhere you want is truly amusing.

"Oh, what I see? A wanted criminal breaking into the room of one of the IPC's most noticeable employees? Don't you afride of being caught, my dear? Or you've finally decided to end our partnership and get rid of me?"

He can't help but chuckle at your unimpressed gaze. Yes, he has told this joke more than once already. But it's not his fault it always make you roll your eyes in a funny way.

But he really is curious what brought you here. Showing up like that is very risky, for both of you. Something serious must have happened if you decided to visit him out of the blue.

... that's what he thinks until you pull out a small gift box from your pocket, throwing it his way.

"A little birdie told me today it's your birthday. I don't usually participate in the whole gift giving tradition. Nor do I celebrate something myself. But those things reminded me of you and I was nearby anyway" you say with a cheeky smile.

He doesn't even know how to react, honestly. His hands just automatically unwrap the box and... oh. It's a set of earrings. A very pretty set of earrings.

"They reminded me of peacock tails" you say, barely holding back a chuckle.

"How original you are. I'm a birthday boy, you should be nicer, you know!" he acts like it's just a small joke between you two but his voice is weaker than usual and his hands are a bit shaky. He doesn't want to overthink it, he really shouldn't do it, it's just a small gift, a joke.

You thought of him. You know his taste well enough. I came to find him. You're here with him.

He almost panics when you say your goodbyes and turn to leave (through the window again. He'll never know how you do it).

"Hey, hey, no need to hurry. Let me be a good host for my friend" he says with his signature smile (he always feels like you see right through it) while his hand is clenched behind his back (he feels like you see through this too).

Please don't leave.

When you sigh and turn back to face him, he suddenly feels relieved that Jade send him the cake. The thought of sharing it with a wanted criminal who caused nothing but headaches to the IPC is somewhat amusing.

"How about we visit a nearby casino after this, hm? I promise you won't lose with me by your side"

If he can have you by his side, mayve he'll have at least one memory of this day untainted by pain and grief.

[jiminiecrickets]

HEAVEN'S SHEATH. KTH / M!READER

summary. a wealthy lord's pacifist son finds friendship and affection in a poor soldier, unremarkable except for the fact that he is the lone survivor of a massacre. fate has different plans for them.

wc. 10k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, virgin!reader with a big dick (lol), reader is described as tall/strong, descriptions of blood/injuries/death, sex while injured (reader), riding, multiple orgasms, 2/3rds is only worldbuilding oops im just like that!!

a cloud of dust billows beneath the heavy black hooves of a friesian stallion, sturdy and strong-chested. the well-travelled dirt path swings over rolling green knolls, past flocks of white sheep herded into valleys and heavy brown cows grazing along the hillside. the untouched countryside is marked by clusters of tall green trees along the road and they shade the large river snaking through the vale. 

amongst the verdant growth, throned between the river and the hills, lies a large manor built strong with stone and brick. other buildings lay scattered around its feet, and life is most evident here – servants hurry about, ushering goats into their wooden pens and their young ones out of the way of the black horse's brisk high trot. the little children stare with big eyes up at the regal stallion's wavy mane, watching how it falls softly over its long neck with each step. it is a horse that carries great presence and elegance, and its rider is no different.

at the manor's grand front entrance, an older man stands in wait, both hands resting on a cane tipped at both ends with gold. his hair is almost fully grey. his steely eyes track the horse and the dust and pollen dirtying its fine feathering on the lower legs.

"you've been sorely missed, son," he says in an unreadable tone, light enough for politeness but darkened by his heavy gaze. "does wartime make for a better view?"

the rider dismounts, hushing the horse as it snorts and tosses its head, hooves stamping. it yearns for the freedom of the run. he pets its soft mane. his voice is deep and monotone with disinterest. "certainly. it's quieter."

the man's eyes narrow. "you left all the kitchen girls alone, who i know you've a fondness for. you should be at home to protect them, taehyung, not gallivanting off to paint your pictures."

silently, taehyung passes off the reins to the stablehand, and turns to stare up at his father from the bottom of the steps. he tugs off his kid-leather riding gloves and places them in the pocket of his navy blue coat. "what do i know of war and fighting? you were the general, not i. i'd say you are much better suited to protecting these frail women from suffering under the hands of conquerors."

"you are the son of a general," he replies sharply. "the youth must carry on what their fathers forged."

"hate and subjugation, of course," taehyung sighs, shifting his bag of paints in one arm and his canvas in another. "humanity's pinnacle."

"stay your wit, boy. you'll find no friends with it."

he slips past him through the open doors of the manor, his paints clinking in its leather saddlebag. "yes, my lord." 

upstairs in a large, sunlit room, he sets it all down with a soft huff. he glances around at the canvases lining the walls, leaning against cupboards and drawers full of paint thinners and varnishes. portraits of one woman dominate most of them – slender, pale, with dark hair, full lips, and a soft curving nose. in some, she sits primly on a chair amongst vases of flowers and goblets of wine, and in others, on chaises in simple dresses with a needle and thread in her hands, glowing with the early summer light blooming behind her.

these are the ones hung up or placed atop chests of drawers. not one touches the ground – that place, on the edge between floor and wall, is reserved for simpler landscapes and still lifes. 

"i remember i told you to take down those portraits. do you find joy in antagonising me?"

taehyung turns. his father stands on the threshold, cane by his side. after he returned from the last war with a limp and new scars, he has not worn any other colour but black.

he turns back to his saddlebags, indifferent as he slowly pulls his paints and brushes one at a time from the bag. "no. i find no joy in speaking to you at all."

his father's expression tightens. "i did not make her ill. it was chance and nature. your hatred of me will not bring her back, no matter how intense. it is time to move on, son. lingering on it breeds only worse things."

"'worse things'?" taehyung snaps, gripping a put of paint so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i am not one of your soldiers, so don't speak to me like one. i don't need your pragmatism, your war-bred heartlessness. all she wanted was you. all she asked for was you, and you never came."

he has had this argument many times over since that winter. it festers hot fury in his chest just thinking of it, and it has not burned dimmer with time. 

he turns and approaches his father, eye-to-eye. he is not a boy anymore. he surveys him for a moment. "war may have reforged you, made you richer and cleverer, but it burned away all that she loved. you never once held her again, felt her breath on your cheek." taehyung brushes his knuckles over his jaw. he shakes his head and begins to walk down the hall. "don't touch those portraits."

back for only a few minutes and taehyung already cannot stand the solemn weight of the air within these walls. he pushes open the front doors with more force than necessary and wanders through the large, walled estate, stone brick encompassing the major centres of activity. 

mindlessly, he travels past the cowherds and shepherds leading in the meat for supper, and the stablemaster tending to his friesian, and the beekeepers. he passes the wall and almost reaches the wheat farm. 

hushed whispers float up from the riverbank. he stops in his tracks.

by the water, the girls and women who work with the granary from the farm are crowded around something on the bank. the linens of their dresses are dark with water up to their knees, where they hold it back.

he notices the expressions on the girls' faces – bright with nervousness and fear, but tinged with… curiosity? they whisper amongst themselves behind their hands. 

he approaches, ducking under a branch of the oak they shelter beneath. "what is so interesting?" 

they startle, several sets of eyes turning towards him. one of the older girls, about his age, drops into a fumbled curtsy. "oh, young master—! we weren't doing nothin' bad, sir, but we was hiding from the sun when we found something the lord sir might need know. we found 'im caught up on the root branches here."

him?

taehyung steps past her. his eyes widen.

a young soldier, skin tinged grey, lies on his back on the riverbank, the water lapping at his calves. his boots have come off somewhere in the water. he wears an unfamiliar uniform: a mixture of thick fabrics to stave off the cold adorned with a strangely-patterned leather jerkin.

it is a poor man's armour, he realises, made of what he can scrounge up and what fits from the garrison's armoury. despite his lack of wealth, taehyung can tell he is a big man – tall, strong in ways only a life of hard work can create. he is fair of face, too, handsomer than many young nobles taehyung has met. perhaps a blacksmith's apprentice, or a baker's boy?

"which… which army is he from, master taehyung? can you tell?"

the question awakens him from his daze. he blinks. "ah – bring him higher on the bank, get his legs out of the water. let me closer."

he crouches by the body, pulling at the heavy cloth draped over the torso. at the neck, where the cloth is bunched and rolled to pack in heat, he finds a small red patch. 

taehyung sighs and presses the soaked cloth back into place. "this man is very, very far from home."

the girls glance at each other uncertainly. "what does that mean, master?"

"many years ago, his homeland was seized, and now his people are under southern rule. he was an infantryman. simple cannon fodder." with a soft exhale, he leans over the torso and pulls him onto his side to reach the lashes holding together his water-heavy coat. "perhaps i can bury him someplace high, so that his soul may be reminded of home."

the body jerks and chokes out a lungful of water with a ragged groan.

the girls yelp, stumbling back. taehyung would have had he not already been on his knees. his eyes widen as the soldier's face pinches in pain, eyes still shut. taehyung reaches for the oldest girl, gesturing frantically towards the manor on the horizon. "find my father and tell him what you've found! you've my permission to leave the farm and all of that – he's alive!"

—

it is dark. everything hurts. this is hell – this is punishment, eternal and unforgiving. this is deserved for desertion.

then – light. light rings against bone and flesh.

velvet. mahogany. silk and down.

there is a girl beside you, leaning over you. her linen dress is plain but clean with a white apron over it.

your side explodes with pain. you launch upright with a violent shout, gasping and clutching the hot ache under your ribs. cries of shock throb in your skull.

you blink, hard, eyes adjusting dizzily to the brightness of the room. your torso is wrapped in cloth, which you can feel flat and taut against your skin. your hand comes away clean, and for several unthinking moments, you wonder why. your thoughts are slow and heavy.

"you ought to relax, master," echoes a soft voice beside you. her vowels are round and elongated, the accent so different from your own that you barely recognise it, much less understand it. you stare up unseeingly at her youthful face, framed by dark curls held back by a bonnet. she steps forward, a damp sponge in her hand. that is why your limbs feel cold. "your injuries are quite severe."

"where am i?" you mumble, your tongue thick in your mouth. words are unfamiliar. "who're you?"

she glances up at the other maids, huddling by the door. she sets down the sponge and extends a hand, though you flinch from it. she does not try again. "you are in the northern highlands. hadria. my name is aemma."

"aemma," you murmur. the sounds are soft and round, like a river pebble. like a river, you realise, you are damp and naked, save for a single sheet of folded cloth across your lap. you feel your face grow hot and you clutch it close, folding your legs towards your body for security. "m-may i – where are my clothes?"

aemma gestures for one of the other girls, who quickly scoops up a folded pile of clothes from atop the chest at the base of the lavish bed. the rest of the bedroom is similarly luxurious, with a dark palette that soaks up sunlight to warm its wood. the walls are pale, though framed by polished wooden frames embracing the room.

"here," she replies. "the lord father has gifted you some riding clothes to wear in their stead. they were to be given to the young master when he turned of age, but…" she pauses. she shakes her head and curtsies. "you're to meet the lord father and his son shortly. we were to inform them when you were to wake eventually."

"eventually…" you trail off. "how long have i been here?"

"two days, master."

your head begins to pound. you cradle it, wincing, and reach for the offered clothes. they are clean and soft under your callused fingertips. "ah… i'm no lord, miss."

aemma smiles briefly, folding her hands over her stomach. "the lord father requires it, master."

you have no heart to push. in fact, you would much rather lay down for another two days, though knowing you are under the roof of a lord churns up too much fear to do so. if northern men were anything like southern ones, you would do anything to keep your name clean.

"i'd like to dress," you say softly, glancing briefly at the maids watching you from the corner of the room. "alone, if the lasses would allow it."

with another curtsy, aemma ushers the other girls out of the room and closes the door after them. you do not miss how they sent you curious glances as they left. she now stands where they once were, watching you with badly-disguised intrigue. 

you clear your throat and feel your cheeks and neck blaze, folding the cloth around your hips tighter. "i'm sorry. i meant entirely."

perhaps it is your imagination, but you think you spot a tinge of pink wash over her features. she finds sudden interest in the knots and grain of the floor. "the lord father instructed that you were not to be left alone in case you required immediate medical attention. you are evidently still in pain, so i must protest."

"ah." you swallow, and your mouth is dry. "p-perhaps… you could turn around, then?"

she glances up, as if to say something, but eventually nods, bobbing in a small curtsy before turning to face the wall. 

as quickly as your aching body will allow, you shuffle off of the bed and dress yourself in finer clothes than you have ever worn before. the cloth is soft and sits finely against your skin like a baby's breath. you are so used to abrasive linens that you almost feel more naked than before.

"you found my boots."

aemma turns around – she almost regrets it, spying the last sliver of skin before white cloth falls over it like the pull of curtains. it is more titillating than seeing the entirety of you bare. "o-oh – yes, one of the servant boys found them downstream."

"ah, thank you. and my uniform, miss," you glance up at her, leaning heavily against the bed poster to slip on your boots, "do you know what happened to it?"

"they're with the hold's tailor. i heard it took quite the beating."

"that could be said," you mumble, straightening up at last. your side twinges with pain, but you attempt a smile. "well, s'pose it's time to meet your lord. i've got to thank my saviours."

it is just turning to twilight, and the hazy golden sun on the horizon feels like little more than a memory. candles light the path past gold-spun tapestries and gleaming windows. aemma leads you to a grand dining room, reminiscent of castles and times long gone. she halts by the entrance, curtsies to you, and hurries away without another word, which you find strange as she had been a pleasant conversationalist when helping you through the halls and down the stairs.

"the soldier awakens at last. how do you feel?"

you glance away from aemma's retreating figure. at the head of the long dining table is an older man with sharp eyes and a natural severity about him. seated beside him is a younger man, around your age, staring into his plate with his hands folded in his lap. you step forward cautiously, and a male servant pulls out a chair on the older man's other side. the lord gestures at it, watching you carefully.

"well, milord; thank you," you answer, taking a seat and quietly thanking the servant who readied it in the first place. he bows but does not otherwise acknowledge you, his gaze on the ground as he slinks back into the shadows of the dining room.

"you were asleep for quite some time. my son doubted you would live." he gestures to the young man across from you, whose romantic dark curls are loose over his forehead. "i am glad you are feeling strong enough to join us for supper. i trust that the girls took care of you?"

"yes, milord," you reply, glancing over the table almost longingly. you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. silver platters are laden heavy with dark ox roasts, honeyed lamb shanks, roasted salmon fillets, sausages and baked potatoes, and braised vegetable stews steaming hot. ruby wine is poured into silver goblets. you have never seen so much food at once in your life. 

"the war has yet to touch us. we have plenty to share," the lord informs, his voice almost kind. "how long has it been since you have last eaten, soldier?"

your throat bobs before speaking. "ah… four days, maybe, including my time spent here."

the man's brow arches. "your general did not feed you before battle?"

"no, milord. they ambushed us before our rations were due." you glance at the young man. he has yet to look up, or indeed even move. "we… had issues with our supplies. weevils in the grain, rats in the captains' meat. we turned from two meals a day, to one a day, then one every two." you pause. "i don't think one more meal would have saved us."

the room falls silent, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the stillness. green wood pops in the flames.

"well, don't wait for me to begin," says the lord suddenly, shifting comfortably in his seat and reaching for a leg of ox, stabbing it with a knife and lifting it onto his plate. he piles his plate high with potatoes and mash. the action seems to spur on his son, who jolts into motion like a creaking old waterwheel, movements slow and measured. "tell us your name, soldier. i'd like to know the name and story of our guest. now, news comes to us slowly in this isolated place. how fares the war effort?"

glancing down, you realise exactly how many pieces of cutlery there are. knives and forks, spoons and little spoons, all slightly different in shape or size. you pause, hand hovering over the knives, nerves tightening in your chest. 

a soft cough. you glance up.

across from you, the son rests his delicate fingers on the outermost knife and fork, using them to carry a richly-glazed steak onto his plate. he chooses a large spoon, fingers lingering on it where it sits on the table, and places it into his bowl of stew.

his gaze lifts to meet yours and just as quickly, a butterfly's flap of wings, he glances away. his cheeks are dusted pink, the rosy colour like gold on his sun-warmed skin. 

you copy him. you take a slab of steak from the dish right in front of you. you are starving, but everything about this manor makes you feel small, and you fear taking more than you are offered. you give them your name, for it is the only thing you truly own in these foreign lands.

"the war?" you continue, trying to shake the tremor from your voice. "i wouldn't know, milord. the captains don't tell us much. it's all the same – i've fought in three different battles. this was the third. they give their speeches about king and country, and then we fight. it is noble," you say hastily, "but i am not a warrior. not many of us were. the enemy outnumbered us, outskilled us, and when the poppy fields lay silent, they piled the bodies of all our fallen and made pyres out of us."

"such would explain the scorch marks on your clothes." the lord nods. he leans in, and you fight the urge to lean away. "i shall ask the question we all ask ourselves, if you would not mind. how did you survive such a massacre?"

you glance at the son. he eats quietly, forking small chunks of meat into his mouth. you glance away. "i remember a spear. it was tipped… with a blue and white flag. it waved in the black sky as i looked up at it." you frown. "i'd never seen one like it before."

"the temerian lilies," he replies, almost approvingly. "you must have been some opponent – if the flagbearer loses his flag, it is a great shame to the army. it must be held aloft at all times. he would rather die than lose it to the enemy."

you lift a shoulder. the other aches too much to try. "they pulled it out of me after, then dragged me to a pile of corpses. i… don't remember much, but i remember them squabbling over another soldier's brooch for a while. i only wanted to escape the stench of death." you survey the feast laid out before you. "i s'pose i have."

"then we shall celebrate that," hums the lord, lifting his goblet of wine. "my son was the one who found you floating down the river. he said you were cold as ice and only recognised you from the flag you had sewn into your coat. it is brave to carry your homeland's colours when fighting for their conquerors."

"it was a small creature comfort," you respond as nonchalantly as you can. "they could punish me all they liked, but could never kill me. they needed every man in their ranks."

the lord raises his brows, and something like admiration crosses his features. he glances at his son and that admiration turns into a tiny downturn of the lips. he turns back to you. "not a warrior, you say, yet you stand with the united courage of a battalion. who was your father?"

you notice how his son stills, holding the steak on his tongue behind his lips for a long moment. he closes his eyes and with a deep inhale, resumes eating, as if unaffected. 

"just a farmer," you say, diverting your gaze. "dead, long past. my ma raised the rest of us – six boys. i was their second. when the army came knocking, askin' for sons, i went, gave them my name. my older brother knew how to count, how to run the mill. i couldn't let them take him, especially not from the little ones – after da died and ma got sick, he was all they had." you tap the edge of the silver plate with your finger thoughtfully. "i imagined i'd either die or be done after one battle, so i'd be brought home quick regardless. now… it's been four years."

then, the servants bring out a round white cake, slices set down around the table – what a perfect intermission. you have made it rather impossible to return to frivolity with your story, and you gaze down at the cake in front of you. you assume this is their dessert, so quaint and pretty on its little silver plate, but you have little idea of how to go about eating one. something so small must require a similarly-sized utensil. is it the tiny spoon? the tiny knife?

you lift your eyes to the young man across from you. he is already watching, eyes large and dark.  he picks up a small three-tined fork from the inner edge, tilting it towards you to show you its appearance, the little notch on the left prong. this time, he doesn't look away, and you have enough time to offer a grateful smile, however brief. he blinks owlishly, almost in surprise, before lowering his gaze again.

it is unfortunate. you would not mind looking at him more. he is undoubtedly beautiful, almost pretty, the sort of face people would immortalise in myths and paintings on temple walls – a kind of elven face, like those that turn goddesses to jealousy and gods to obsession. 

you spend the rest of the meal stealing glances at each other when you think the other is not watching. he is far more successful than you.

—

from behind a balcony's closed doors, taehyung gazes up at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, surrounded by pale stars glittering in the blanket of darkness. he cannot stop thinking about the shy farmer's boy, his accent unfamiliarly pleasant – the vowels are soft and blurred, with each consonant crisp and clear. it makes for a bouncing sort of melody to his voice, one that draws taehyung deeper into his song.

he sighs softly and turns away from the night's landscape, uncrossing his arms and meandering through the empty halls. most of the servants are already tucked away, and his father drowns himself alone in old letters and wine.

in loose trousers and a looser white shirt, the vee of the collared neck laced with string, he finds himself in his library, rich and warm from a hearth already lit. curious. he shuts the open double doors behind him quietly to keep the heat from dissipating into the night. 

his silent feet carry him through the aisles, where the shelves brush the ceiling with books and ladders. a walkway surrounds the room, essentially giving it a second level. 

silhouetted black against the white glow of the moon beyond the arched window, a familiarly unfamiliar figure stands in silence, gaze turned up towards the heavens beyond the lines of books and old tomes. 

standing in this still and quiet room, statue-esque in the way of classics, taehyung cannot help the journey of his gaze wandering up and down the planes of your body, painting to himself the sturdiness of your shoulders, the perfect balance between your booted feet. there is a severity about you he recognises in his own father – he sees it in your arms, tucked behind your back, and the practised way of standing that arches the spine just so to emphasise the broadness of the chest. yet, he knows gentleness when he sees it, and he finds it in the almost childlike awe in your expression, aimed up at his personal collection. 

he steps out, the shadows melting from him like the shedding feathers of a raven. "what are you doing in my library?"

you startle, and taehyung almost regrets interrupting you. coward that he is, he would rather watch from afar than bring you out of that handsome serenity.

"f-forgive me, sir," you stammer, twisting your hands together as you incline in an awkward half-bow, half-stumble, evidently having forgotten the extent of your injuries as your expression tightens and your hand brushes over your side. "i didn't know it was yours. the – the doors were open, and i—"

"invited yourself in," he finishes.

"i – yes, sir…"

before you, he stands perfectly still. you could fool yourself into thinking his heart does not beat, for he is pale in the moonlight and beautifully dark-haired, with eyes like midnight lakes and lips like a rose. 

you tear your gaze from his, breaking your trance. you begin to move past him. "forgive me, milord. i shan't interrupt you."

his hand darts out, wrapping itself around your wrist. serpentine, it slides up your arm and grips your bicep, forming creases in the cloth.

"you shouldn't move so quickly. you're injured." he turns his gaze on you. "you'd leave so soon?"

"ah…" you flounder, helpless. "if the lord wish it so."

his searching gaze strips your body bare. you feel it prod your soul when his eyes meet yours. his eyes scan your face, and he reaches up with his other hand, brushing it lightly against the slope of your jaw. his skin is warm and tender-soft. your breath hitches. 

"the maids missed a spot when shaving," he mutters, pressing his fingers against the patch of half-shorn stubble left on the soft underside of your chin. "a man would do it better."

all at once, he drops his hand and looks away. "i am no lord," he replies, his low, rich voice like waves lapping at the sides of a ship, almost careless. "just his son."

you hesitate, your heartbeat still in your ears. "th-then what should i call you, sir?"

he glances down where bandages hide the hole in your body. "just 'taehyung' will do," he says softly, eyes lifting again. he unravels his arm from yours, turning fully towards you. "you may stay – as long as you are quiet."

he moves away, so graceful he may as well have floated. his fingers glide over the covers like bumps of the spine, and they pluck a small yellow book from the shelf. he opens it, already turning to the first page even before he finds a chair to sit in. he curls up in front of the grand fireplace, the furry hide of a brown bear thrown across the floor in front of it. 

for a while, you simply watch him and listen to the crackling of the fire. his slim fingers glide across the pages to turn them, the edge of the page caught gently on the pad of his thumb. 

bathed in the yellow and orange hues of the fire, the lord's son is every bit as regal as northerners are said to be – hair like calligraphy ink, cheekbones fine, slim bodies tall and lithe. you could lose yourself in his cold, gentle darkness.  

that burbling feeling of being out of place rises to the surface, worse than when you sat before the lord at his table. you and your callused palms, your worn and labour-worked body. you should not be here.

"you know you can choose a book, yes? i don't mind." he glances up. "forgive the mess. i can help. what do you like to read?"

"i'm sorry, sir," you murmur, averting your gaze. "i can't read."

it seems he'd forgotten your roots. he blinks. "oh. my apologies. but if not to read, what interested you about my library?"

"ah," you chuckle, scratching your head. "i've just never seen so many books in one place. travelling merchants would display some, but never like this."

"i see." he surveys you intensely, then glances away and clears his throat. he shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. at last, he says stiffly, "if you'd like… i can… read to you."

the silence is thick with more than just the fire's heat. it is hard to know taehyung's hot face is not because of the fire, and he is grateful.

"if milord wishes to," you reply quietly, watching him for any twitch of his expression that may give him away.

"of course. i wouldn't offer it if i didn't." he gestures to the chaise beside him. "sit."

you step into the semicircle of light afforded by the fireplace, licked by tendrils of warmth, and ease yourself into the chair with a soft grunt, holding your side. "milord is as kind as he is beautiful."

his eyes flicker down to your lap. "i wish you wouldn't call me that," he says suddenly, a little sharper. "can i not be called my own name in my home?"

your mouth opens and closes. after a moment, you reply softly, "i meant no offence. it just feels… wrong."

slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes and his book. he places a hand over its cover. "all of my life has felt wrong. everything is wrong no matter what i do – who i wish to be, the company i keep, the fears i carry… the love i desire." he pauses, opening his eyes to your earnest expression. he diverts his gaze to the yellow-gold cover of the book. "what more can one last wrong hurt?"

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "perhaps i can start over." you straighten slightly, offering a crooked half-smile. "what do you want to read to me, taehyung?"

he does not disagree that his name sounds strange coming from another's mouth, but he cannot remember the last time it was used by anyone else. he hums and rises to his feet, coming to stand over you in front of the fire; his shadow cast over your body deepens the maturity of your features.

"when you said i was beautiful," he asks, "did you mean it?"

staring up at him, you can do nothing but tilt your head in bewilderment. "yes. you are fair and handsome."

taehyung chooses his next words carefully. "if… i were a girl," he decides, clasping his book over his stomach with straight arms, "would it be a different sort of beauty?"

you frown, shaping an approximation of a girl with taehyung's features in your mind. "maybe. but she would still be beautiful if she was you." you shake your head, dispelling morphing images of regal dark-haired daughters. you hide your warm cheeks behind an apologetic smile. "i'm sorry. i don't know much. i don't usually deal with such thoughts."

but it was enough for taehyung. slowly, as if not to frighten you, he lowers himself, grasping the chaise's rests and draping himself gently over your lap. he watches your face all the while, his heart beating faster at the shock and nervousness that cross your face in a single second. 

"is this… is this alright?" he whispers, placing his hand against your chest. 

your adam's apple bobs, your hands hovering an inch off of his body as if he is made of glass. gently, you place one on taehyung's knee and the other behind his back, and glance up at him.

"perhaps you can sit closer," you murmur, eyes wide and searching, "so you may not fall."

taehyung smiles, then – the first smile of his you have ever seen. it is sweet, and crinkles the corners of his eyes. it makes your heart swell.

he hides his smile in his chest, his knuckles brushing the corner of his lips. he lifts his eyes, and a sliver of hope twinkles in them. "shall i read to you, then? i will give you a synopsis of each story so you may choose your favourite."

"please," you murmur, settling back in the chair and sliding your hand higher up taehyung's thigh so he may be more comfortable. "do whatever you wish."

"'whatever'?" he hums, and with a flippant little kick, throws off his boots to the ground, where they thump carelessly. he meets your eyes and falls into a nervous smile, tucking his bare feet against your leg and resting his temple against your shoulder. his hair is still slightly damp at the ends from his earlier evening bath. "then you wouldn't mind this, would you?"

"of course not," you whisper, biting back a shy, embarrassed smile. you are too old to be acting like this, especially with the only son of a wealthy lord, but the rush of excitement from seeing such a reticent man blossom and show his petals to you is too much to keep you away. "i am only a farmer's boy, taehyung. anything with someone like you is… a dream."

at the mention of his name, his smile widens slightly and a pinkness warms the apples of his cheeks. he busies himself with opening the book and flipping through its contents to find the correct page. he presses his thumb against the spine between the pages.

"here." he taps the words on the page. "this story is one my mother used to read to me. a princess is trapped in a tower, guarded by a dragon in an ever-changing thorn maze, and a brave, handsome knight rescues her. they are married and live happily ever after."

he looks up at you, searching for a reaction, and you can only give a breathy laugh in return, still dizzy with the idea that someone like taehyung could ever be interested in someone like you. "are you sure you should be telling me these stories? i'm not a princess or a brave knight. i'm plain."

"perhaps. but do you know who else was seen as plain?" he taps your chest. "the dragon, disguised as a statue. and you, strong dragon, will protect the princess," he taps his own chest, "from all the boredom and politics of castle life."

"don't you have other, richer boys chasing you?" you ask, because you know your place. "your own knight? i don't see what i offer that they can't."

he licks his lips, setting aside the small book on a round side table and swinging his legs over your lap to straddle you. reading it is the last thing on his mind. "i do, of course. but it is like you said – they are boys. when their wooden sword chips, they get a new one." he trails his fingers lightly down the centre of your chest, wide and strong, and tentatively cups what is between your legs. he leans in, long-lashed brown eyes flickering down to your lips. "i want more than that."

"i—" your breath hitches as he squeezes gently, learning its shape and heft with deft fingers. "a-are we allowed to…? i am a stranger in strange lands with nothing to my name."

he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. his soft hair curtains your eyes. "allowed? no. but when a handsome soldier from far away falls into my lap, what else is a man to do?" he draws his thumb over your jawline, stroking your cheek. he lowers his lips to yours, hot breath sweet with honeyed treats. with the faintest thread of a breath, he whispers, "may i?"

with your heartbeat thudding in your ears, your head inclines, and taehyung wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes his lips to yours. 

his moan is sweet and starved as you kiss back to the best of your ability, your hands falling naturally about his waist. his lips are plump and warm, pillowy, and slicken with saliva as he deepens it, cupping the back of your head and pressing himself higher onto your body. he is desperate and dominating, sitting in your lap and rolling his hips into yours. you can feel his excitement through the cotton of his trousers. 

when you part regretfully, gulping down air, he cups your face, his eyes dark yet gentle. he licks his shining lips, parted to pant. "you seem apprehensive. have you ever done this with a man?"

you wipe your lips with your thumb, tongue swiping over them in an almost bewildered motion. your eyes are wide. "a-ah… no. not with… anyone…"

"not even a girl?" he cannot help the surprise that coats his tone.

you shake your head, face aflame. "i never… my older brother had my father's charm. he was the one they all wanted, strong but lean. i was too much of a bull. they had fantasies of princes, and he was closer to it than i."

deeply and tenderly, he kisses you again. "it only means i won't have to fight anyone to call you mine." he brushes his thumb over your lips. "that suits me just fine. i was never the fighting sort."

he sits up on your lap, thighs bracketing yours. his bare feet tuck beneath him under his knees. when his palm grazes the front of your trousers, your breath hitches in your chest, and taehyung gives you a soft, if coy, grin. "i'll be gentle," he promises. he tugs slightly on the laces of the waist. "may i?"

mutely, you nod, your words sinking into the whirling depths of his eyes. his deft fingers undo the laces with ease and he pulls the thick cloth down your waist, tracing the vee of your hips with a pleased breath. he reaches in, lifting his gaze to gauge your expression. your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your knuckles are tensed on the chaise's armrest. the other arm is tucked tightly by your side.

"don't be nervous," he whispers, stroking you gently in your trousers. it twitches in his palm. "place your hands on my waist, darling. good. very good."

hesitantly, your hands graze his hips, sliding up to grip his slender waist. you splay a hand beside his waist, measuring it against him with fascination. he is slim and lovely… like the city nobles' soft-palmed daughters. you had noticed his hands during supper but hadn't the room to mull over them then, though now you do. they are square, masculine, but slender and fine-veined. his nails are clean and cut short, with a thin crescent of white at the ends.

he could not have been more perfect if he tried.

he slides his fist up to the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb against the slit and the smooth skin. you are mostly soft, but still impressive – the number of taehyung's clandestine trysts have lent him a certain experience when it comes to men.

you have reinforced your place as his favourite. 

"i see why they call you a bull," he says slyly, squeezing your shaft as his fist sinks down on it. "they just don't know how to tame you."

your face floods with heat as you stutter meaninglessly. your grip tightens on taehyung's hips and a single slant of a thought marvels at how delicate he feels in your palms.

"be still, my darling," he murmurs, "and be at ease. you are no longer at war. you can close your eyes and hold me without fear. nothing will happen unless we want it to."

his voice, like syrup, melts the frantic whirlwind of thoughts in your head. you cannot help but want to believe him. "you make it sound so simple. i want to believe you."

"why can't it be?" he tilts his head, glancing down and stroking you contentedly. he swipes his thumb over the slit, where a bead of precome bubbles. oil – from a small bottle you only now spot in taehyung's palm – smooths each stroke of your shaft. "the world is so complicated. affection can afford to be simple." 

he lets go for a moment to step back, sliding his trousers down his hips and calves and tossing them aside on the chaise. he flicks his dark hair and tucks a lock over his ear as he reassumes his place on your lap, pressing his chest against yours and tugging your cock to throb against the curve of his ass. the silk of his white shirt is cool and light against your hot skin.

his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as his hips roll languidly. he whispers, "do you want this?"

do you want more? the question is unasked, but you hear it anyway.

"i do, yes. please," you reply immediately, your voice rough with desire. your hands trail over his hips and tuck beneath the long hem of his shirt to caress his warm, creamy thighs, a feeling that traps your breath in your throat. you force out a sigh, shaky, and rest your forehead against taehyung's shoulder. he hushes you and cups the back of your head, reaching with his other hand behind himself to ease you inside his warmth.

taehyung's head tips back with a slow exhale, shuddering as you pulse with heat inside of him. he watches you closely, committing to memory the way your brows pinch and your mouth falls open as your grasp tightens, trembling, around his waist. 

"do you like that?" he whispers, breathy. he bounces shallowly, grinding his hips into yours. "how do you feel?"

"good," you choke out through a groan. your hand slides down to the dip in his back, trying not to seem too eager as it cups his ass. "oh, fuck…"

"don't hold back for me," he murmurs, hips quickening. he moans in surprise as you buck up into him, thighs meeting his ass. the slap of your balls against his ass is obscene, and he scrambles to cling onto your shoulders for balance.

"wait – wait, wait," he gasps, lashes fluttering as your cock kisses that spot inside of him that burns pleasure through his guts.

you stop immediately, sliding your hand up his side. "i'm sorry! are you alright?"

he huffs a laugh, panting softly, and nods. "you're injured, darling. don't waste the good work we put into putting you back together. sit back – i will take care of you, understand?"

"a-ah…" your face burns with heat. "all right. whatever milord desires."

"very good." he presses down on your hips gently, his hands between his thighs. he lifts himself off of your cock until only the tip rests against his hole, then sinks down on it in one smooth motion. a strangled noise escapes your throat as you scramble to hold onto him. his heat grips your shaft like a vice, gummy walls clamping down around you with each drop of his hips. 

he moans when your fingers dig into the sensitive skin of his hips, sweat gathering in the small of his back. the fireplace crackles softly, the air warm and sweet with the smell of sex.

he gathers his shirt in his hands about his ribs, revealing his dusky cock, swollen with need. he takes your hand and curls your fingers around his shaft, his eyes fluttering and lips parting as you tighten it. your callused palms drag deliciously against his veins and he grips your wrist with a soft groan, bouncing on your lap in such a way that he thrusts into the warm tunnel of your fist. 

carefully, you stroke his cock, cautious about rubbing raw or tearing his skin. wealthy boys are a different breed – so much softer, easier to hurt. the smell of him, sweet and musky, hangs in the air around him, enveloping you when he draws close – crushed petals, herbs, leaves. it seems foreign, or at least the mixture does, for you cannot quite place your finger on it – then again, what do you know of luxuries like this?

"you are doing well," taehyung praises, gasping as you flick the head of his cock with your thumb. "oh, yes… f-fast learner, hm? oh!"

a jerk of your hips has him jolting forward, his cock spurting a sudden white rope onto your stomach. he purrs, bracing against your chest and slamming his hips down on your cock to slicken him with your pleasure. it works, and he seems unduly proud of himself when your cock throbs and leaks, forming a white ring around the hilt that thickens with each bounce of his ass. 

"milord – milord," you gasp, a tiny pathetic noise that does not match your appearance, "please – i'm—"

"let go," he demands, a breathy moan escaping his lips. he closes his eyes and lets out a punched groan as your cock carves into his insides, deeper than any other man had ever touched. his reddened cock throbs, slit pouring precome over his belly and thighs. the pleasure curls around his thoughts, his head spinning from it, and he feels your stomach tense under his palms.

you spill into him with a deep, satisfied growl, head tipping back as he arches against you. your hips roll up against his and the coil tightening in his belly snaps at the sight of you so wrecked from so little. he cries out, ropes of white streaking across your shirt, and his hips stutter and roll, milking your pleasure for his own like a succubus. he presses his ass into your lap, white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, and his eyes roll as the thick warmth fills him up to the brim. 

at last, he slumps against your chest, thighs trembling and tensing as he hums softly into your neck. he buries his nose in the soft, warm skin, and cups your cheek to place a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw. 

"mm… good," he purrs, smiling with tender satisfaction. "i – i shall bring you to your… mm… room. it is just down the hall from my own... should you wish to see me, you only need to knock." his breath hitches as he raises his hips slowly, hole twitching around your shaft, and when it pops out, a steady stream of come leaks from him, staining his tanned skin. he sighs, closing his eyes to the slowing of your heartbeat. "but i think i will stay here for a time, if you don't mind. just until i – until i regain feeling and control of my legs."

"is that… is that normal?" you ask, a tiny panting tremor in your voice. "to lose feeling like that?"

taehyung laughs into your neck, eyes crinkling. "sometimes, when i feel overwhelmed. it is no fault of yours – you are just… big. don't worry. i liked it."

he shifts in your lap to get comfortable but pauses as something pokes his thigh. a sly smile spreads across his fine features, his fingers lifting to trace your jaw and tip your gaze to his own. he purrs, "is that for me, love? excited again?"

you gulp, unable to tear your stare from his despite the embarrassment clawing at your throat. "i – i…"

"handsome and energetic. i'm a lucky man." he laughs softly, reaching behind himself and groping your hard cock with a low moan. "i myself have been told i'm rather voracious. perhaps you will be the first to keep up with me."

he lowers himself on your cock, head tipping back as he teases himself with the thick head. his dick twitches.

"what say you to a change of scenery?" he asks coyly, perfectly content with your ragged-breath silence. every word you might have said disintegrates on your tongue when he turns around, arching his back and pinning your cock to your stomach. shining precome smears along the cleft of his ass.

his body, carved out of shadows by the fire, rocks and rolls like a ship in the harbour when all its crew are asleep. with an encouraging smile, he takes your hands and places them on his hips, pressing on them to guide you to control his body. he hums softly as you squeeze his hips and spread his asscheeks, your breath shaky as he angles his messy hole against your leaking tip. 

he watches your face with gentle eyes as he sinks down on your cock, his warm, wet hole swallowing up your shaft like he was made for it. you jump slightly when his ass firmly meets your lap, taking you hungrily until the hilt, and if he were a lesser man, your expression alone would have been enough to tip him over the edge. he sears every line of your face, every edge and plane, into the backs of his eyelids. it will make for fine company on lonely nights. 

you speak for the first time in a while. "p-please…" you whisper hoarsely, blunt nails digging into his smooth, unmarred skin, leaving crescent moons in your wake. "please, move."

"ah, but you are badly hurt… i must take my time with you. mustn't alert the servants, either, for they'd certainly report to my father what they've seen." taehyung giggles to himself, gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to subdue his grin. he grinds down into your lap in circles, relishing in the pleasured, impatient groans that escape your throat. "he'd toss you out in an instant, and we cannot have that! i haven't yet had my fill of you."

"a-are you always so… playful with your men, taehyung?" you ask, voice slightly strained. you watch your cock vanish into him, over and over again. the sound that is made when he bounces on your lap is obscene and filthy. your heart stirs with desire.

"mmh – no. my past conquests have not been as – as alluring as you," he gasps, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing circles over the ridge of his tip. "mostly, they bore me. you, however – you're more than a cock i can use to please myself, if i may speak so crudely."

"i – ah – th-think i should be grateful, then…?" you reply uncertainly.

"yes. unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of game… but tonight is about simplicity," he breathes, his skin tingling where your rough palms glide over his thighs, soft as cream. "we have only so long until the sun rises and the servants wake. i want to spend that time with you – learning your homeland's ballads and epics, your favourite flower, where i can touch to make you melt…"

he looses an airy laugh as your grip tightens on his waist, his shirt folded up between your fingers to reveal the curve of his spine and ass. you drag him down onto your cock roughly and he keens, eyes rolling back briefly. "ooh, y-you like that, don't you? ah—!"

already he is so sensitive. nowhere else has he felt pleasure like this – where his body is treated as more than a means to an end. he had been completely content with that when he entered this library, agreeable to the idea that you might like him only for what he can give you. but he swears – he swears on the old gods and the new – that the way you press your nose into the curve of his neck, the way you stroke him thin and thick tight and loose – caring, properly, for his own high – means your attraction is more than fleeting. 

years of ending up alone in empty beds have made him soft. lonely. desperate. perhaps he is reading into things too deeply, as he always does – poor boy, always a poet. the backs of his eyes sting with hot tears as his tightly-controlled leash snaps, making him cry out, writhe, and shudder, knees and elbows buckling under the weight of his orgasm. 

you catch him in your arms before he can slip, pulling him backwards towards your chest. it is warm, your throat shining with sweat, and he can feel the burning fever of your body through your clothes. still, you do not let go, push him away – you cradle him close, your heart thudding through your ribcage and into his own. 

one of your hands tugs languidly at his cock, milking his pleasure from him. you watch quietly as it spills over your knuckles, your lips pressed against his sweat-slick shoulder, and help him lift his hips off of your cock. 

for the first time in what feels like hours, taehyung takes a deep, full breath of air. he cups your face in a hand and smiles, wide and content.

"i didn't believe you could be more beautiful," you murmur, words slightly clipped at the end from a lack of breath. "i've never been happier to be wrong."

he opens his eyes with a flutter of lashes, pleasantly surprised. "haven't i already let you take me?"

"what do you mean?" you ask with a frown, tilting your head. your thoughts are foggy with warm laziness. the fire's heat does not help. "taehyung?"

the sound of his name almost startles him. he sits up, and a pleasurable ache sparks up his spine. he sucks in a deep breath. "you really… truly think that of me?"

you blink slowly, like a cat, and the fire's flames dance in your eyes. "i am a simple soldier. lies are above a man like me."

"you're more than that," he replies immediately, turning around on your lap to face you properly. "if you were just a soldier, you would have died on that battlefield. forgive me, but you had all the time to die on your way down the river. still, you survived." his voice softens, and he fiddles with your collar, straightening it and folding it down. "i am glad you did. i am glad to have met you."

"ah…" gently, you tug his shirt down, allowing him the return of some of his dignity, though he does not seem to care. "that reminds me – i shouldn't waste much time here. i should report to the general."

"for what?" taehyung scoffs, and it sounds… hurt. he glances away. "am i so repugnant you would rather march thirty miles a day in mud-soaked boots than stay here with me?"

"no!" you protest, sitting up as best you can with the growing ache in your side. you had been too caught up in the moment to remember it, and now your body reminds you jealously. "t'ain't that, taehyung. you are intelligent and kind and if we were in my homeland, i wouldn't hesitate to ask your hand. but surely you have a girl you're supposed to marry?"

"no, not at the moment. despite what he says, my father still grieves my mother. it will be a while yet before he'll allow another woman into the house." he traces shapes into your skin. "i will free you from the servitude of the evil king who bound you, and together, princess and dragon will live freely, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs."

at first, you smile at the newfound softness of his voice, but freeze. "free… of servitude?"

taehyung watches you, draping his legs over the other side of the armchair, kicking his feet lazily. his eyes are dark and watchful. "as i know it, the king's oath swears that you are only relieved of your duty when you give your blood for his and fall in battle against his enemies. have you not satisfied these requirements?"

"i may be no scholar, but i'm near certain that to 'fall in battle' means to die in it."

"have you not satisfied these requirements?" he repeats, firmer. "our doctors and priests said you were dead when i brought you to them. they said you may have been alive when i found you, but somewhere between the riverbank and their stone table marked the spot where you died. as they proclaimed this, you coughed again, and nobody could deny me this time when i said you were very clearly alive."

"you are telling me that i died… and returned? like a saint?" you ask sceptically. 

"i only tell you what our doctors told me."

for a while, you are silent. determination creases taehyung's brow, and you cannot hold in the disbelieving laugh that erupts from you, though it morphs into a groan of pain in the middle. taehyung sits up and presses his palm to your cheek, his eyes so vivid and certain. 

"you have already died, and thus retain no obligations to the crown," he whispers. his gaze scours your face. "you are free. free to stay here. live here…"

with me.

your heart drops into your stomach. you grip his waist, shifting in the velvet chaise. "i'm…"

"agree. agree to it. even if i cannot bear your children, we will sleep in the same bed, take walks in the wheat fields, eat and drink every meal together. you won't fear for your life every day. and as soon as the war ends and they open the trade routes to your home, i shall book passage on a ship and take you there. you may stay, if you wish. i won't deny you."

"then why offer at all?" you ask quietly. "if you think i'll leave you the moment i can, why would you even try?"

"i can hope, can i not? by all accounts our kings have no desire to cease any time soon. perhaps you will learn to love me in time." he smiles, faint, and averts his gaze. "otherwise, i will be glad to help another soul. you will survive the war and return to your family, whole and healthy. out here, away from people, i have little chance to do something so good and noble."

"and if i grow restless? if i want to do something with my hands?"

he tilts his head thoughtfully. "how is your aim?"

"fair, i s'pose. haven't missed when it's important."

"the lord's hunter grows old," he proclaims. "he can teach you what he knows, and if you like, you may take up the title once he can no longer ride and shoot. besides that, there is always work to be done in the fields and granary – perhaps you'll find some comfort in the farms?"

you think about it, long and hard. in essence you would be a prisoner at his beck and call, though if taehyung tells the truth and is as earnest as he appears, perhaps you'll find freedom and enough work to fill your days with…

you give your answer, and taehyung's smile is like the sun.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

********

You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay? 

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants. 

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him. 

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place. 

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out. 

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did. 

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.” 

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away. 

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on. 

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?” 

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.” 

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.” 

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can. 

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.” 

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.” 

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!” 

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!” 

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.” 

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.” 

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm. 

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva. 

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“ 

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes. 

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp. 

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“ 

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases. 

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?” 

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak. 

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!” 

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?” 

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.” 

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass. 

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis. 

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted. 

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time. 

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock. 

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.” 

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob. 

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent. 

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.” 

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!” 

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy. 

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.” 

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?” 

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.” 

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.” 

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy. 

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.” 

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are. 

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?” 

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[myhamartiaishubris]

Ben Hargreeves is the worst written best character and I can prove it

This is a poorly organized meta/essay about my baby boy who got massacred. Originally posted in the discord server so some of y'all have seen it already.

Let me be clear: this is a love letter to my favourite Hargreeves boy. I could write him better. I could fix him (narratively).

Here's why Ben is a great character who, paradoxically, was very badly written.

Umbrella Ben

Listen. Listen to me. Ben Hargreeves was, from the moment I saw him, my absolute favourite character. He's already dead? Doomed by the narrative before the narrative even begins? Also, an East Asian character in the year of our Lord 2018?? I was on board. And Brelly Ben gets a lot of good moments! You know that scene where Klaus is in the motel closet, tied up, and Ben says something like, "How does it feel being helpless? This is how I feel, watching my brother piss his life away." Um, hello?? That's such a delicious line.

Because up until this point Ben's been kind of quiet, in that dead broody way, or we saw his young self being soft and reluctant. But suddenly we realize, oh, Ben isn't nice. In fact, he's kind of nasty to his addict brother, and you get this kernel of a glimpse into his character. This is a character who might have been soft-spoken in life, but death and the years since have shredded him down to all his razor edges. He's still that bookish little Ben, except he's not little and he's frustrated, angry, traumatized, and in pain.

And season 2 builds on this! He's willing to violate Klaus's personal boundaries just for a taste of life again. Holy shit that's so delicious. My problem is that, especially in season 2, this isn't explored nearly as much as it could be. Ben's possession shenanigans are mostly played for comedy, when in fact we could be delving into the implications of Ben's character and his relationship with Klaus. You have this character who's kind, who (from what we know so far) represented the "good" of the academy, who loves his brother so so hard and it hurts him so bad to see Klaus hit rock bottom every time. The little "I missed you guys" in season 2? Devastating. And yet despite his goodness he is capable of being a bad person, and he repeatedly hurts those around him (namely Klaus).

So surely this is part of his arc, right? This is going to be explored and resolved. Right?

The Season 2 Ending

So the thing is, I didn't immediately hate the way they had Ben move on / die to save Viktor. I was sad to see my favourite character go, but also excited to see where the writers would take that storyline. Because, obviously, it wasn't over. Right? Obviously Ben's arc isn't finished, he hasn't resolved his frustrations, his complicated relationship with Klaus is never fully untangled, plus the rest of the family never get a moment of real closure with him (except maybe Diego). So clearly, it wasn't over. Right?

Well, in light of season 4, I can confidently come back and say that killing Brelly Ben off here was a stupidass decision.

And here's why: you've effectively splintered his arc in half. Starting from season 3, Ben is an entirely different character, with an entirely different arc that needs to be built from the ground up. While everyone else gets 4 seasons of development, Ben only gets 2, both times. And I'm so not over the fact that his arc isn't over. We saw Ben do some reprehensible shit to Klaus, especially in season 2 with all that possession shit! And we just. Never hear from him again? That's bullshit.

But anyway, since we're here, let's make peace with being here. Hey, Justin H Min is still playing a version of Ben, and he seems interesting, if way different! Surely this will have some interesting implications.

Sparrow Ben

Oh god, Sparrow Ben. In terms of Ben's character writing, season 3 is... fine. Like I said, it suffers from effectively fracturing his arc in half and having to start over, and this isn't the complicated, kind but frustrated and prickly ghost Ben I originally fell in love with. But ok, I do like Justin, and EA rep is still a win to me, so let's go with the flow.

For the most part, season 3 does a solid job. We get some solid beats relating to Ben's ambition and inferiority complex being Number 2. There's a bit of overacting on Justin's part, but hey, that's camp. (I think. I have no idea if I'm using that word right. Am I hip with the kids?)

I really, really loved Ben's moment with Sloane as she's getting married, because it highlights the core of this Ben's character: someone who desperately yearns for family but has forced himself to be all hard shell and soldier. In a way, he's the other end of Brelly Ben's spectrum. (Like forsterite and fayalite - all Mg on one end, Fe on the other.) How much of this Ben is family softness, how much of it is defense mechanism and lashing out?

And then of course - the thing I've been craving so badly - the in-universe comparison to Brelly Ben. This was done... underwhelmingly, if I'm honest. I liked that Ben had a moment of crisis where he couldn't live up to the Umbrellas' dead version of himself, and his moment with Klaus was nice, but in light of season 4 it becomes clear that we could have had more. I wanted him to have an entire arc about it - after all, it's a pretty significant aspect of your character to be "the worse version of yourself from another timeline." (Refer to @vyther16's Gongye Jiwu fic.) I feel like there's a lot of meta you could pull from that, about how your siblings who aren't your siblings look at you and see someone different. Someone you won't be. Someone you can't be, even if you tried, so why bother trying? And they really don't dig through that at all, which is disappointing.

The tentacle samurai fight is badass, though.

Season 4

Oh buddy oh boy. There's so much dumpster fire here, but I'll start with the season 3 loose ends and then move on to season 4's own problems.

1) Sloane. Luther picks Ben up from prison, so I thought they might have an interesting bonding moment over Sloane - after all, they're the two people who cared most about her. But actually no, apparently Ben doesn't give a shit about the one real sister he actually had left at the end of s3.

2) The subway thing. Wasn't he in Korea? My grasping-at-straws ass truly thought that might have been Brelly Ben in the reset timeline, and we'd get a Ben-Ben confrontation or a battle in the minds thing. But I guess that doesn't matter.

3) The Jennifer Incident. So we all know that everyone forgetting about an incident they explicitly reference is stupid, right? Especially because the name Jennifer only exists because they reference it in s3. Ben obsessively draws Jennifer, and then he doesn't recognize or know her? Kill me.

The continuation of his arc is also just sloppy, if it even exists. No more identity crisis about being the worse Ben, no more secret yearning for family or inferiority complex about being a good soldier. Suddenly his arc amounts to, uh, being an asshole and getting hit with sex pollen so powerful it ends the world.

And look, there is a world where Sparrow Ben spiking everyone with marigold could parallel with Brelly Ben's consent problems with Klaus. There is a world where Sparrow Ben dying because of Jennifer could echo Brelly Ben's death in a haunting, tragic, destined kind of way.

But, uh, none of that happens. Here we are, finally getting a Ben-centric season, and it's this. Being relegated to a plot device in your own season. Looking back and realizing that you were always the plot device, even in season 2. Carrying all that tragedy in your little ghost body and being treated like Chekov's waterlogged gun.

And I can't help but look back at season 1, Klaus trying so desperately to prove Ben's existence, and contrast it with the literal next season where a single throwaway line from Klaus sidelines Ben for a whole season. And then he dies. And he dies again.

Fucking hell.

It feels like I'm being made a fool of. Oh, you cared about this East Asian character? You wanted him to have narrative weight and character presence instead of being a plot device for the benefit of his White brothers? Idiot.

Because you'll still be here anyway, right? You'll grasp onto your crumbs for a cool EA character, you'll let us run a character through a trash compactor and keep pretending he's a good character because you latched onto this one East Asian protagonist and you don't want to admit that maybe you should have let go years before.

[itsonlybaby]

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗℘

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒smut﹒fluff﹒angst

﹒ ◠ list under cut ! ͘ ౨ ⸝⸝ most rec ꒰ twt links

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　birthday wish - ModernAU! Throwing a surprise birthday for Murphy, but what happens if the guest of honor is late for the party?

　mine - Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. 　the moon, the sun - When Titus died you set out in search of a new fleimkepa, only finding Murphy; a misunderstood roach. 　full of hate - You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect him to awaken something in you.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　useless - you feel useless to the people of Arkadia, maybe Bellamy could help with that. 　wooden deer - you met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. 　divine - ever since the massacre of the grounder army he's been different, but you don't give up on him 　haircuts - bellamy noticed you have been losing sleep over your son, so he decided to help out. Only, he doesn't stop helping out.

　failed mission - Azgeda assassins are supposed to be stone-cold, and feel nothing, but what happens when a certain boy tries to gain your trust 　jealous meeting - bellamy calls a group meeting to decide certain defense plans and catch up with everyone, but his jealousy gets the best of him. 　longing dreams- you had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. 　flowers of you - when the second praimfaya hit you thought you were the last person on Earth, until the group came back down, landing in your valley. 　the wolf and the lamb - you stumble across a knocked-out person, doing the only thing you can do you save him; not knowing with that would lead to. 　pyramid - it wasn't uncommon for you to flirt with Bellamy, but it was unusual for him to flirt with you back. 　friends with benefits - you and Bellamy were friends, friends who often did each other favors.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　whenever you want - you've been crushing on Monty for years now, and you decide it's time to give him a hint, which doesn't go as planned

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　  loading. . . 

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐭 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　sneaky memories - You got captured in Bardo, and while Levitt was sifting through your memories he came across a more private one.

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ㅤ

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ incest ╰﹐siblings, parent/child, cousins

⸝⸝ pedophilia ╰﹐if the reader or character is a minor I won't do it

⸝⸝ inflation

⸝⸝ sexual assault ╰﹐this goes for cnc, and rape

⸝⸝ scat play ╰﹐piss, and shit

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ safe age gap ╰﹐they are still of age, but there's a gap

⸝⸝ stalking ╰﹐not yandere stalking

⸝⸝ twt smut visuals ╰﹐twitter porn I think matches a character's vibe

⸝⸝ anything else you can think of ╰﹐if I don't like your request, I wont write it, but that's rare

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

　just call me baby.

　i am 19 years old, this is my main blog that I've now abandoned but cant delete > @saturdaykrualt

　my discord is 'itsjustbaby'

　im really passionate about creative arts, such as painting, writing, and music.

　i have to listen to music while writing, here's the playlist!

　and this is my main playlist

ㅤ ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ ㅤ if you have any questions don't be scared to ask﹗✦

　

[mashmouths]

i hate him #notmylancelot

you ever grope a man you accidentally killed so good and so no homo that you bring him back to life

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[lampochkaart]

Kokichi is asexual and you can't change my mind (and Kaito is an ace too 'cause i said so)

Here is why i think that way

Disclaimer! This post is not created to judge or shame anyone. I created it to explain why i think about them in that way and maybe try to make this headcanon to be more popular. I might sound kinda salty at times here but in general I don't mean to hurt anybody.

It kinda confuses me why so often Kokichi portrayed a little bit too intrested in making sexual comments and jokes. I probably shouldn't be surprised, because I know that we live in a sex obsessed world. I'm kinda used to it at this point. But I think people kinda exaggerate it.

In actual game he doesn't make sexual comments and jokes THAT often and 90% of the time they are directed at Miu who is the MAIN sourse of them in game. I even think that he would not say so many of those things if Miu wouldn't be starting it first.

He even get's confused for a second when Gonta tells him he couldn't catch Miu for Insect Meet and Greet because his "face got hot".

And in bonus mode Dangan Salmon Team he isn't particularly intrested in that either. In most cases when the player chooses sexual option even though the game states that it was a good option Kokichi will often just change the coversation to a different topic. Yeah, they had fun, but they didn't really talk that much about initial chosen option.

"Let's read a dirty book."

"How about joining my organization instead?" *starts rambling about his organization*

And yes, I REFUSE to call this protag Shuichi. This is NOT my favorite protagonist. He would not fucking say this.

Look how they massacred my boy *cries*

One thing Kokichi also does very often is being sarcastic. I really like this scene. But surprisingly I've seen people taking his excitement as genuine and was like ??? How? Have you gone so crazy after you've seen his first phrase that you blacked out and missed part when he went "nope :)". He literally was like "Is that what you wanted me to say? You wish😊🖕"

I also like how sometimes when the protagonist say something sexual Ouma redirects topic from himself. And he often suggests Tenko as alternative. For a long time I couldn't understand why it was her specifically. And then I realised. It's because Tenko will beat up any man who says something like that to her. He literally indirectly tells player to fuck off.

I can't belive how often those moments are overlooked.

I think that's all my main points regarding Kokichi. Everything else is not very convincing and can be dismissed. But I just want to point out that his color palette basically resembles asexual flag, because I think that's a neat detail.

Now Kaito. I'm gonna be honest. The main reason I headcanon him as ace is because I headcanon all my favorite characters as asexual. But there is a reason I fully accepted him as ace.

The scene in Talent Development Plan where he's discussing "man's passion" with Leon and Teruteru. While they were talking about girls it turned out Kaito this whole time was talking about chasing passion in more philosophical sense. And by exploring "unknown worlds" he probably meant space (they really should've seen that coming).

That's pretty much it. I just saw 1 (one) reason to make it canon for me and immediatly jumped on it.

I think that's it for both of them. They're not the only characters i headcanon to be on the ace spectrum (and i also have some on the aro spectrum too!) but they're the ones I think about the most, so I thought I'd explain it.

[carveredlunds]

"I have a room on Divisadero": A meta on the shots in "Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape" and the female horror of Louis' apartment

So, I made a graphic comprised of some haunting shots from season 2 episode 5 of IWTV, and it accidentally helped me realise why I've not been able to get the episode out of my head, specifically the scenes between Armand and Daniel. I'm going to try to explain my thinking here.

From the moment we go from the Loumand scene in the bedroom, we're forced into Daniel's point of view. And the first thing we see? A "cellophane corpse on the floor", to use Daniel's own words:

It's right next to him, facing him, mirroring his own position lying on his side. As Daniel himself says, "Surely, I'm next". And this is then followed by a panning shot of what he can see, all filmed from this dizzying sideways angle where he's lying on the floor. And we're hearing Daniel in the present day list what he can see. "There's a TV in the corner near the corpse. Some kind of sock or shoe commercial? There's sheets of plastic tarp, some duct tape, bleach."

What does this call to mind? Well, obviously, body disposal, making people disappear, but specifically, for me, it brings to mind the monstrous serial killers of the 70s, specifically Ted Bundy, and Jeffrey Dahmer, the cannibalistic serial killer of teenage boys. The most (in)famous serial killers of the modern imagination operated in the 60s and 70s, and these shots immediately bring that to mind. We're in the point of view of a victim.

I'm convinced this is not an accident on the part of Stuart Howell, the DP (Director of Photography, in charge of cinematography) for this episode. These shots are jarring, dizzying, and disorientating. And when Armand walks in, we stay in Daniel's point of view. Armand casually walks past Daniel, not even looking at him, and we're still on the floor, looking up at him. It's honestly the most frightening he looks in the whole season, in my opinion. Just look at these shots.

The blurriness? The low-angled framing, making Armand look taller and imposing? He's looking down at Daniel, but we can't see him properly. Obviously, this is down to show how confused and injured Daniel is, having been attacked and lost a lot of blood. But it's also what happens when you've been drugged or hit over the head or otherwise impaired.

Also to note very briefly, that this whole scene takes place during the day. I can't go into the Daylight Horror subgenre in too much detail here because this is already going to be a long post, but basically it highlights the mundanity of horror, the fact that acts of violence and horror don't always happen in the middle of the night. Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a classic example of the Daylight Horror subgenre, and so is this scene. Just to go back to Daniel's quote:

There's a TV in the corner near the corpse. Some kind of sock or shoe commercial? There's sheets of plastic tarp, some duct tape, bleach.

It's the middle of the day, the TV is on, there's a shoe commercial on. All ordinary, daily, things. But there's also plastic tarp, duct tape, bleach, and a corpse right next to the TV. In this apartment. In the middle of the day. The mundane juxtaposed with the unimaginably horrific.

Anyway, let's move onto the next interaction, the torture scene. A lot happens, but I'm going to focus on certain aspects, otherwise this meta will be too long. The most important thing here is this horrific exchange:

Daniel: I can't move — Armand: Move your body? Daniel: Yeah. Yeah.

Again, this is bringing to mind being drugged or handcuffed, both common forms of restraint that serial killers use for their victims. Armand has "commandeered [Daniel's] body". It's mind control, but for all intents and purposes, it's basically possession. I've made a gifset on this here, but to summarise, possession is often a female experience in horror movies. The loss of bodily autonomy, being moved by forces outside your control, being bent to someone else's will. It's very feminine horror coded.

Daniel looks to the corpse on the floor beside him, and Armand follows his gaze slowly, and then they have this exchange:

Daniel: I don't want... Armand: To die? On that item, I think I know something you don't.

Throughout this whole conversation, Assad Zaman is truly giving The Performance of A Lifetime. He's barely blinked, and his pupils are pinpricks, and there's just nothing behind eyes. He's got this slight smile when he says "On that item, I think I know something you don't." He's saying here, "I actually know you do secretly want to die". It's such a frightening thing to say. There's just this insane gleam in his eyes. Words don't do it justice, just go and watch it again. You know what I mean.

Anyway, back to the mind control. What does Armand do to Daniel, with this power? Forces him to his knees. So, we have this truly nightmarish shot of the door closing on them both as Louis yells at Armand to leave Daniel alone:

As @molloyboi said in this post, "the horror of a door closing and unknowable violence occuring behind that closed door never ceases to horrify me". It's such a horrifying shot because of everything it implies. Daniel on his knees, his head bent, Armand leaning forwards with his legs spread, his hands clasped together. "You're going to teach me to be fascinating", he says, with that manic shine in his eyes. Truly the stuff of nightmares.

Very briefly on the torture scene itself. Armand puts Daniel in a stress position often used to extract information from the person being tortured. Only Armand didn't need to extract information from Daniel this way. He put him in this position and just pulled the information from Daniel's head anyway. And we have Daniel constantly trying to make it stop: "My legs are starting to cramp", he says, "I have Charlie Horse, left leg." But Armand doesn't listen. This isn't torture to extract information, this is torture for the sake of sadism.

And when Armand is done with him, he just leaves Daniel there, like that, crying and in pain, while he goes to dispose of the corpse. How long is he gone for? We don't know, because the next time we see the apartment, it's four days later. So, let's move onto that.

We've immediately lost time. We don't know what happened in this gap, or what Armand did to Daniel. And putting aside the Devil's Minion goggles for a second, this is objectively terrifying.

Daniel is obviously out of it. He looks like he's in shock, exhausted and vacant and just staring at the TV, with that disgusting bite mark on his neck, all crusted over. He hasn't showered in four days. We don't know how much he's slept or eaten.

(By the way, it is so interesting that Daniel in the present day tunes back in on this news report. "Spiro Agnew", he says in the present day, and then we smash cut to this TV report. Of course Daniel, a journalist, would be brought back to himself by this huge historical event.)

But anyway. He's not completely gone yet. The fight isn't completely gone out of him. How do we know? Because he's moving his fingers slightly, as he watches TV. This tiny, fragile, reminder that he's in control of his own body right now, that he can move his hand right now. That he's not being possessed.

And he nervously turns to look at Armand, as you can see here in this gifset by @loo-nuh-tik. It's the way you would watch your torturer, your jailer, the man who is probably going to kill you. But as soon as Daniel thinks Armand is going to turn to him, he turns away quickly and stares at the TV. You can see so much in his posture, in his slightly lowered head. Perhaps he's learned, in those four days, that if he just sits and stares at the TV, Armand leaves him alone.

So, he tries to escape the moment Armand leaves to go check on Louis, and even from the other room, Armand calls, "Rest", and Daniel collapses and hits his face on the wall. A pathetic escape attempt, but at least he tried something.

So we come to the "rest" scene. I could talk forever about the "rest" scene. I will probably meta about the "rest" scene. But, for now, I'll keep it very short, because this is already way too long and rambling. In the context of the Female Horror of the Divisadero apartment, I want to talk about two shots. Firstly, this one:

Again, we're in Daniel's point of view, staring at Armand in this creepy close-up shot. He's whispering, "Shhhh", and he's not blinking, and we're trapped in Daniel's point of view again, staring at the creature that's been torturing him for days.

Obviously, this parallels the first torture scene, where we were in Daniel's point of view, looking at Armand, who wasn't blinking and just pulling information out of Daniel's head like spools of tape, forcing him to relive these humiliating sexual experiences (by the way, I am not excusing the "paper bag" thing, but I don't have time to go into it here).

And the last shots I want to discuss are these ones:

Why? Because of the Feminine Horror of it, of course. Firstly, it reminded me of Hannibal Lecter cleaning and bandaging Will's knuckles in season 2 episode 10 of Hannibal (screencaps from here):

The horror of blood blooming in water, the intimacy of cleaning an open wound, the homoeroticism of it all. That's all there, but it also calls to mind an abuser taking care of their victim. Yes, they hit you, but they patch you up, afterwards. The hand that hits you is the same one that gives you a necklace to say sorry.

There's so much Feminine Horror in these shots of Armand and Daniel. It's finally here, the end of these several days of torture. And Armand is taking care of him, in the end. Cleaning his wound tenderly, leading him into this gentle, easeful death.

[thebongcloudopening]

i think half these kids and 20 year olds don't actually have autism

can i say something conservative